One man's personal story when caught up in the chaos of the Birmingham Pub Bombings

Forty years is a long time, but not long enough to erase the sense of horror of the night rogue elements of the IRA decided to target the young men and women of Birmingham enjoying an evening out.

The Tavern in the Town was a regular venue for me and it was popular with all sorts who tended to mix really well.

There were hippie-types, young and not-so young business types, disco crowd and from all nationalities with no shortage of people like me of Irish descent.

It was sometimes a stopping off point before hitting a club or concert and sometimes a place to meet up to find out what was happening and where. On this particular night three friends and I were enjoying a game of snooker in Yates’ wine bar just across the street.

I had planned to meet my new girlfriend in the Tavern at 10.00pm before going on to a Dr. Feelgood gig at the other end of New Street.

I had already told my snooker partners what I was doing and I don’t know if they would have followed me and stayed at the Tavern or not.

As one of us was leaning over the snooker table there was a tiny click. In the next instant the lights flickered and the table moved up and down in a gentle wave. This was followed by a deep underground roar. It may sound strange or obvious to some, but we all instantly knew a bomb had been exploded.

Although there was no immediate panic everyone got themselves out of the building quickly not knowing what they might find.

Coming out on the street we could see a stream of smoke and dust around the corner and some people gathered at the front of the Tavern. Unlike our crowd, people here were milling around in complete confusion and panic. It quickly became obvious why.

I became one of 50 or more people standing in shock not being able to move at the sight of one or two brave souls running down the stairwell to the underground bar where the smoke was pouring from.

In my head I thought they were police or similar but it was only afterwards I realised they were just bystanders helping. To this day I regret I was afraid to go down those stairs and help.

The injured and dead were being brought up by any possible means. There were no emergency services on hand and I cannot recall seeing any for the half hour I was there.

Black cab drivers were the first to arrive as people were bundled any which way into the back to be driven to hospital. I also saw a sight that I can never erase.

I had previously been going out with a lovely girl called Jane who was just 17 years old and the Tavern was one of our favourite meeting places. We went out for several months and later went our ways on good terms.

I saw her brought out on the back of a door used as a makeshift stretcher.

I thought it was odd that she was wearing a strange polka-dot dress. I then realised that it was a white dress full of burn holes from shrapnel. It was later discovered that the bombers had used nails and phosphorous to cause maximum injuries.

By this time, more of an angry crowd had gathered and one unfortunate rough looking man cursed the IRA in a loud Irish accent. A few bravos decided to take their anger out on him and he was beaten enough to end up being taken away in one of the taxis.

I realised it was nearing 9.00pm and I was supposed to be meeting my new girlfriend Judy and without knowing what else to do wandered up to Bogart’s at the top of New Street.

Incredibly, despite my protestations the gig was not cancelled, I don’t think they understood how serious it was and we were all used to bomb scares in those times.

The show started at 10.30 and finally Judy showed up in a worse state than I was. She had travelled in by bus which was stopped somewhere near the Mulberry Bush and she witnessed similar carnage there.

The music was actually a very welcome distraction and at 11.30 we left to go to Judy’s house together.

New Street was a very strange scene to emerge out into.

Over two hours after the incidents, police were now everywhere ushering people out of the centre as they believed there were more bombs planted in other locations. We were herded like cattle and managed to take a night bus and walk the rest of the way home.

One of the many ironies was that my parents were expecting me home and knew I was out in town. We did not have a telephone and I just never thought they might be worried I was injured.

My Dad who was from Ireland said he had double concerns at work the next day. On one hand he was worried about me and on the other his workmates were being openly hostile to him for being Irish.

I don’t know how many friends I lost or were badly injured that night. I never went back in. For years I was afraid to go into underground bars and certainly have carried some of that fear with me. However, I rarely miss a chance to help someone in most circumstances and have worked for people charities for many years now.

I still regret not helping but not everyone can be brave and alert enough to know when they can help rather than be a bystander.

I am sure Jane could not have had any more help and there were so many willing to do so on the night. If one thing could happen, I think the taxi drivers should be remembered for their quick thinking and selflessness.