Mine employee recalls Westray explosion
People warned it was dangerous, says Pictou County man
Eerie silence.
From the time he called the front guard to say “both tunnels have been blown to smithereens,” until the first responders arrived, there was silence.
“It was just eerie, eerie quiet,” Bill Herman recalls, thinking back to May 9, 1992, when the Westray Mine exploded.
“Then I could hear first ambulances. I could hear sirens coming. They were getting louder and louder and louder. Police and ambulances and fire trucks just descended on the place like crazy.”
There was a depressed feeling among workers at the Westray Mine in the days leading up to that tragic day that claimed the lives of 26 of Herman’s co-workers.
Herman remembers talking with a friend that Friday night about the Los Angeles riots and other bad things taking place around the world.
“He was just down and a lot of guys were feeling down,” he said. “They all knew something was going to happen.”
Safety was a common concern among the workers at the Pictou County mine. There had been a lot of cave-ins and the methane was so prevalent that at times it made your tongue feel thick, Herman said.
“I talked to the different miners and they were wondering which crew was going to get caught up in an explosion. They were all sort of drawing straws.”
Many times while working there, he envisioned it blowing up.
Herman was working the night the anticipated explosion finally did happen, claiming the lives of 26 men, but was fortunate to be above ground. He had started working for Westray in the summer of 1991 during the construction phase and continued on after the mine was operational. His job involved testing the quality of the coal.
But from the time the mine started operating, people warned it was dangerous.
“It won’t work. It won’t go. It’s going to blow,” old miners would warn.
“They knew – the old men,” says Herman.
The morning of the explosion Herman had just finished testing some coal and sat down in the control room to record the results.
“All of a sudden at 5:18 it was just wa-boom, wa-boom.”
His chair moved and the whole building swayed.
“I turned around and said to the guys, ‘That was an explosion.’
They just looked at me. ‘I’m telling you that was an explosion!’”
At first he thought it might have been an electrical transformer and started towards the electrical room to check.
He and the other men working in the building soon realized it was much more serious.
Two stopped dead in their tracks as they looked to the tunnels.
“They were in shock when they saw what it was.”
Herman kept running down to the mouth of the tunnel.
He called the commissionaire on duty at the entrance of the mine and told him to call in emergency responders.
He was then asked to stay at the mouth of the mine to make sure nobody came near in case another explosion happened.
A man came running to him and pointed toward the tunnel said, “Do you think a man could survive that?”
“Only by a miracle,” Herman said.
“My brother’s down there,” the man responded.
Twenty- six years later, the memories of that day are still fresh in Herman’s mind.
“It only seems like it was last week to me,” he said.
Sometimes still he’ll have a dream where there’s an explosion and then he wakes up. On the anniversary, he avoids the memorial services because it is too emotional for him to go. He often thinks about the friends who were lost.
“They all knew it was going to happen,” he says.
Today marks the 26th anniversary of the tragedy.