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Today marks the 30th anniversary of the Harrods car-bomb attack in which three police officers and three civilians lost their lives.
Inspector Steven Dodd, who was 34, was extremely close to me at the time. He was badly injured in the IRA attack. I am extremely grateful that two members of the public stayed to comfort him, despite the threat of a secondary device.
Sadly Steven died from his injuries a week later on Christmas Eve 1983. However, knowing that members of the public sometimes do wonderful things is very hart warming.
Below is some text from the BBC archive written by the man who stayed with Steven - a total stranger who, like Steven, put his own life at risk to help others.
Kind regards,
A
Stephen Foote was about to meet friends in a Knightsbridge pub and was crossing the road to get some money from the cash machine when he heard the bomb blast.
I could see a plume of smoke rising above Harrods, from the Hans Crescent end of the store.
I thought the bomb was further away, but when I came to the end of Harrods, a cracked window suggested that the explosion had been closer than I thought, and nothing prepared me for the sight that greeted me as I turned the corner into Hans Crescent itself.
The scene was one of utter devastation: the street was full of smoke, broken glass and debris.
You see the video on TV, it is all very sanitised - even now there are images of such atrocities shown on TV, but they bear little resemblance to the reality of the situation.
There was the smell too, acrid burning smell, but as I walked slowly down the street armed with wound dressings that I had taken from a policeman, it looked as though there were no injuries.
Then I saw some people covering up two bodies at the end of the road.
As I came closer I found a very severely injured police dog handler and his dog lying in the gutter.
He was pleading for help - what could I do for someone so badly hurt? He was still conscious, I left him and found another policeman lying in the middle of the road.
He was in an even worse way, and there was no one tending him. So I went to him to see what I could do.
He was terribly wounded, and the dressings that I had were unnecessary - when the body is so severely traumatised as his was, there isn't a lot of blood. The body just shuts down.
The guy was replaying the minute before the explosion had changed our lives. He was talking into his walkie-talkie - his call sign, and something about a suspicious car.
The car was strewn all over the street - the roof of it was hanging off a flag pole.
Half-naked mannequins leant out of the broken windows of the Harrods store.
A man in a suit hurried out of the store followed by two secretaries - it was a totally bizarre scene - he was shouting to everybody to clear the area saying there was another bomb inside.
I didn't budge. If there was another bomb, then it would take me with it. I was trying to keep this man alive.
Another person had joined me, she didn't move either. Then the ambulances arrived.
Five people died that day, and the policeman that I was helping died a week later.
The dog handler lost both of his legs, and the dog died.
What is it about these people that they take innocent life of ordinary people? Who knows. The terrorists can sue the police, but the police and the innocent victims cannot sue the terrorist. Isn't that weird?
Inspector Steven Dodd, who was 34, was extremely close to me at the time. He was badly injured in the IRA attack. I am extremely grateful that two members of the public stayed to comfort him, despite the threat of a secondary device.
Sadly Steven died from his injuries a week later on Christmas Eve 1983. However, knowing that members of the public sometimes do wonderful things is very hart warming.
Below is some text from the BBC archive written by the man who stayed with Steven - a total stranger who, like Steven, put his own life at risk to help others.
Kind regards,
A
Stephen Foote was about to meet friends in a Knightsbridge pub and was crossing the road to get some money from the cash machine when he heard the bomb blast.
I could see a plume of smoke rising above Harrods, from the Hans Crescent end of the store.
I thought the bomb was further away, but when I came to the end of Harrods, a cracked window suggested that the explosion had been closer than I thought, and nothing prepared me for the sight that greeted me as I turned the corner into Hans Crescent itself.
The scene was one of utter devastation: the street was full of smoke, broken glass and debris.
You see the video on TV, it is all very sanitised - even now there are images of such atrocities shown on TV, but they bear little resemblance to the reality of the situation.
There was the smell too, acrid burning smell, but as I walked slowly down the street armed with wound dressings that I had taken from a policeman, it looked as though there were no injuries.
Then I saw some people covering up two bodies at the end of the road.
As I came closer I found a very severely injured police dog handler and his dog lying in the gutter.
He was pleading for help - what could I do for someone so badly hurt? He was still conscious, I left him and found another policeman lying in the middle of the road.
He was in an even worse way, and there was no one tending him. So I went to him to see what I could do.
He was terribly wounded, and the dressings that I had were unnecessary - when the body is so severely traumatised as his was, there isn't a lot of blood. The body just shuts down.
The guy was replaying the minute before the explosion had changed our lives. He was talking into his walkie-talkie - his call sign, and something about a suspicious car.
The car was strewn all over the street - the roof of it was hanging off a flag pole.
Half-naked mannequins leant out of the broken windows of the Harrods store.
A man in a suit hurried out of the store followed by two secretaries - it was a totally bizarre scene - he was shouting to everybody to clear the area saying there was another bomb inside.
I didn't budge. If there was another bomb, then it would take me with it. I was trying to keep this man alive.
Another person had joined me, she didn't move either. Then the ambulances arrived.
Five people died that day, and the policeman that I was helping died a week later.
The dog handler lost both of his legs, and the dog died.
What is it about these people that they take innocent life of ordinary people? Who knows. The terrorists can sue the police, but the police and the innocent victims cannot sue the terrorist. Isn't that weird?
In memory of Private David James McCahill
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