ASTRIDE LOG

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 22968, 21 February 1938, Page 12

ASTRIDE LOG

AMAZING ESCAPE GRAPHIC STORY BATTLE FOE LIFE EEFUGEES ON ROOF Owing their lives to chance, with their nerves strained almost to breaking point, and bearing numerous abrasions to testify to the battering they had suffered, tyo men lived through the horrors of the early-morning disaster again as they described-it at Waikokopu yesterday. They were Messrs. R. Blair, of Auckland and H. Trainor, a recent arrival from Ireland. . Tucked safely in bed, and surrounded by friends anxious tq do anything to add to their comfort, they were still ill at ease. One smoked endless cigarettes while he talked, and the other, sorrowing at the loss of two intimate friends, added only an occasional terse remark to the conversation. Moving Story While the tragic story was told, friends filled the hut set aside for Messrs. Blair and Trainor, the first two survivors to be brought as far as Waikokopu. Many of those listening were obviously moved as they learned for the first time and from eye-witnesses details of the deaths of friends. "There was no thought of tragedy on Friday night—in fact, arrangements had been made with enthusiasm for a swimming carnival in the stream on the following day,'' Mr. Blair said. "The camp was quiet by 9.30 o'clock except for a few radios, and it was not until six hours later that the awakening came. "I had been only four days at the camp, and was in a hut alone I was sound asleep when a chap named .Tim Doreen shook me and woke me. 'For God's sake, got out,' he shouted. 'The camp is going.' Hut Collapses "Water, only knee-deep as yet, was lapping at the door. I turned around to get some clothes and the hut collapsed on top of me. I don't know yet how I managed to got out of it. Up to the neck in water, that was carrying huge boulders as well as timber and debris, I found myself outside," he said. A wall of water seemed to rise in o split second, Mr. Blair continued. One moment there no great cause for alarm, and the next a struggle for life was in progress. Darkness, sudden and complete, added to the horror of the moment when the lighting system failed. i "Timber came floating by and I prabbnd the biggest piece I could find," Mr. Blair added. "I tried to reach a lorry on which 11 men were eventually swept to their doom hut fortunately mv pfforts were unavailing. A tree fully 30ft. long loomed up out of the darkness. I abandoned my timber and clambered astride, riding at breakneck speed downstream.

"The front end of the cookhouse had gone completely, but the other three walls were standing. The log floated straight into the wrecked building and stopped with a crash against the far wall. I broke, a window and climbed on to the roof." About a dozen other men were on the roof of the cookhouse, and a few seconds later the number was increased unexpectedly by one. A hut, carried bodily away, camo floating by with a man named Lucas astride it. He took a flying leap and landed safely on the roof. Feeling their refuge collapsing under them, the party or survivors jumped on to the roof of the caterer's quarters adjoining. They were just in time The roof on which they had been standing broke up as its supports were washed away. Mother's Frantic Worry "The caterer, Harold Cameron, and Mrs. Cameron, were inside," Mr. Blair stated. "Three of us scrambled down and got them on' to the roof. Mrs. Cameron was frantic with worry for her five-year-old daughter, Joan, who was in one of the tents. A 17-year-old son, Harold, was in another. "At the start, we could not got near them. The boy Cameron saved the life of another employee, Jim Cronin, seizing his clothes as he was swept by the boy's tent, but ho was unable to help Bob Johnston, who was carried past at the same time and was drowned. The boy Cameron and his sister eventually reached the roof in safety. "At the same time, a man named McCorkindale, and Jim Cronin, whose ribs and knees seemed badly hurt, were helped up to the roof. One of the men on the side of th» roof, Fred Clark, suddenly let go and disappeared in the water. The strain must have been too great for him." "We'll Die Game" Faint cries for help from somewhere near the chimney were heard by Mr. Blair and one of the others, Mr. George McLean. They hauled up Mr. "Buff" Hampden, half-drowned. He was unconscious by the time he had been pulled to safety, but revived while on tho roof. "It was still dark, bitterly cold and raining heavily," Mr. Blair continued. "We were only half-dressed, some in pyjamas, some wearing trousers and others in shirts only, just as we had rushed out. There were heart-rending cries for help. Three men on one roof sang out almost cheerfully: "We'll die game." This was just before they went. "Wo thought we were gone, too. Wo yelled in elior.us so that the people in tho married quarters; 150 yards away on top of the cliff, could hear us above the roar of the water. Phil Stapp, who is in charge of the Y.M.C.A. at the camp, turned tho lights of his car on to us, and we could seo crowds on tho bank watching men drown, but unable to help. Optimist in a Tent "Before daylight, we noticed a light flaro suddenly in a tent held in place only by driftwood. This tent and one other had floated a considerable distance, and were tho only ones left standing above the cookhouse. Wo decided to investigate as soon as it was safe. "When light camo I waded through water 2ft. deop to tho tent in which the, light had showed. There was about 2ft. of silt on tho floor, piled to within an inch or so of tho bottom of' the bed, on which Charlio Chesley was lying. Ho was holding aloft a small suitcase in ono hand and a lighted

cigarette in the other. 'Boy,' he greeted me, 'l've got a dry change for both of usl' We shook hands." Organised rescue work was being planned. From the married quarters was thrown a stone with a fishing line attached, and as soon as this had been secured by one of tho survivors from the flooded camp a heavier lino was made fast and hauled across. A block with a sling attached was rigged as a breeches buoy, and no time was lost in transferring, first, those suffering severely then Mrs. Cameron, and finally the rest of the men. Joan Cameron was lashed to Mr. Blair in case she should fall, and the two crossed together. Steaming tea and coffee, as well as ample supplies of spirits, were ready for those rescued. The survivors paid a tribute to the work of all who helped, mentioning particularly tho efforts of Rupe Itangi, a Maori of great physical strength, and Mr. P. Le Grove. Scene of Desolation "It was about six o'clock, and we could get a clear view of the camp, or, rather, what was left of it," Mr. Blair said. "All that remained of 57 huts and tents, blacksmith's shop, bathhouse, dining room and caterer's staff's huts, were part of the dining room and four tents. Nobody saved anything. Men lost musical instruments, radio sets, golf clubs, clothing and money. One man lost £4O in accumulated savings. "Even though it had receded, the yellow flood was s'.;ill pouring down. It had been 6ft. higher than the known record level," he explained. "After a hot meal those of the survivors who wero nblo made their way upstream to communicate with the other section of the married men's quarters, where there was no knowledge of the tragedy. Mr. Le Grove had given us a note explaining the position. We put it in a glass, 'rammed Band on top of it and threw it across tho river. The note said that 20 men had gone, that food and medical supplies were short and asked for a message to be sent; to the base camp." Search for the Missing An immediate search for their friends found to bB missing after a roll call was begun by the survivors. They travelled a mile below the camp, climbing over the hill as the road had gone. Rupe Rangi and Mr. Stapp had just found the bodies of Mr. Waaka and Mr. Johnston. The searchers found their way blocked by a slip and returned to camp. Prompt response to the appeal , for help was made by the men at the base camp. A party arrived with ropes, tackle and a medicine chest. Three more breeches buoys were rigged and the rescue party joined the survivors and lent them aid. Single men were ordered to evacuate the wrecked camp, and they walked to the base camp. There they learned that 16 bodies had been recovered, some as far as six miles below tho camp. "Feared an Earthquake" Motor transport was waiting to take the survivors to more comfortable quarters. Messrs. Blair .and Trainor were brought to Waikokopu. Mr. Trainor had little to say of his escape. A hut lifted free and smashed against that in which he was Bleeping, waking him. He feared an earthquake, and 6aid that tho din of rushing water and grinding boulders was like an explosion. His hut broke up over his head and he got out only to be swept straight off his' feet. He scrambled to the top of tho hut and eventually reached safety on top of the cookhouse.

ANXIOUS INQUIRERS STRENUOUS POLICE TASK TELEPHONE SERVICES TAXED IDENTIFYING THE VICTIMS The whole of New Zealand was covered by police inquiries to locate the relatives of the 21 victims of the disaster. In many instances tho departmental records furnished only meagre particulars, and throughout Saturday afternoon and night tho police station at Wairoa, which is'the nearest large centre to Waikokopu, was inundated with telephone inquiries from both the North and South Islands. The first official news of the tragedy was received by Constable Houston, of Nuhaka, He adviised the Napier and Wairoa police at about nine o'clock on Saturday morning, and, although the condition of tho roads leading toward the Mahia Peninsula was uncertain, four constables from Wairoa, under Constable McAlpine, and five members of the force from Napier and Hastings, headed by Sergeant Mcintosh, left immediately for the camp. A further indication of tho intense concern shown throughout the Dominion was the exceptional number of calls handled by the Wairoa telephone exchange. Efforts to trace relatives of tho victims resulted in a long list of outward calls, which extended over practically 24 hours, while a host of inquiries came from all centres of the Dominion for news of friends known to be working in the vicinity. In addition to tho practically unceasing telephone. calls, police stations in the district had to cope with a constant stream of visitors, Even on Saturday evening, however, full details of tho disaster were, not generally known, tul in many cases those seeking information were so concerned that thoy were scarcely convinced of tho safety • of their friends and relatives even when shown an official list of victims.