Episode 2 Real Lives Reunited

United by disaster, never to see each other again.

Without you, I wouldn't be here.

We're all here together, survived the same thing. It's just great.

They shaped history together but lost touch.

I just don't know what to say, after all these years.

And heroes meet those they saved.

When you see someone in trouble, you go and help them.

You saved my daughter's life.

You can never thank them enough for what they did.

We went through all that and then just lost each other.

Brought together by fate, separated by life,

real lives reunited.

Today, survivors of one of the worst ever oil rig disasters

meet to share stories of miraculous escape.

Shouting when the lights went out

and then the place was filling up with smoke.

-25 years ago, eh?

-Doesn't seem like five minutes, does it?

The nurses who made history meet for the first time in 50 years.

I believe we saved thousands of lives in the first 12 months.

How many's been saved since, I just couldn't calculate.

And a Frenchman who wants to repay a long-standing debt of gratitude

to the Brits who rescued him.

Thank you for saving my life.

The 1980s was a boom time for the British oil and gas industry.

Men from all over the country flocked to the North Sea oilfields

where the rigs were generating almost £2 billion profit year.

120 miles off the Scottish coast, Piper Alpha

was at the centre of an oilfield pumping 125,000 gallons a day.

It had a reputation.

At one stage, it held the world record for the single

producing platform in the world.

The actual atmosphere, as far as the drilling crew was,

we were all really quite happy.

I was on there four years, and I got to know everyone very well.

I knew the family, the friends, the children.

It was like a small town.

There was over 200 personnel on board.

The work was hard. It was constant.

Like any oil company, they always want everything done yesterday.

It's never done soon enough.

Life was generally quite good.

But on 6th July, 1988,

Piper Alpha's name was to become for ever associated

with the dangers of offshore rigs.

226 men were on board that evening.

Drilling supervisor John Gutteridge and colleague Vince Swales

were both on shift but in different parts of the rig.

Our first day back on the platform after our two weeks off.

And it was about just before ten o'clock at night

and I decided to go back into the office.

Suddenly, an explosion.

It was... Motion as well as noise, if you know what I mean.

It was just, boom!

All hell broke loose.

All the grating on the floor lifted up.

I was blown onto my back.

Rig workers had turned on a gas pump but they didn't know

it had a broken safety valve.

Pressurised, flammable gas erupted into a fireball.

The fire was everywhere.

The crew scrambled to find emergency assembly points.

There was absolutely no chance of making it to my lifeboat.

I couldn't even see my lifeboat. There was that much flame and smoke.

They were waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

But no-one knew what to tell them what to do.

And then it was more or less "How do we get out of here?"

The unthinkable had happened.

The blast had ripped through the control room,

killing the very people in charge of evacuation.

As nearby rigs watched on helplessly,

more than 200 men were alone and leaderless in an inferno.

The intensity of the blaze stopped boats in the area

coming to the men's aid.

I was thinking about my daughters, and thinking,

"If it's going to happen, please let it happen...

"please let it be quick."

At different ends of the rig, Vincent and John

fought their way through the smoke to the bottom of the platform.

It was the last option.

To jump or...

Well, there was no other option.

My chief engineer didn't jump cos he was afraid of water.

He couldn't swim and he didn't jump.

Apparently, he was last seen at the handrail looking at the water

but the fire got him in the end.

It's been...

..an absolute hell to, sort of, come to terms with.

167 men were killed on Piper Alpha that night.

But they will never be forgotten.

I mean, when we were pulled out of the water,

it wasn't long after that that another big explosion occurred

that basically wiped out the whole platform.

Those who escaped could only look back at the rig

as it was consumed by fire.

The tragedy made headlines around the world,

but many of the survivors retreated from the oil industry

and were left alone with their grief.

Close workmates John and Vince

haven't seen each other since the disaster.

-Looking well.

-Aye! I'm not feeling it!

25 years ago, eh?

-It doesn't seem like five minutes, does it?

-Not for me. Not for me.

It's in my thoughts quite often.

Not a day goes by when I don't think about something to do with that day.

I've got some photographs that you might recognise a few...

a few on there.

That's how I remember you.

For us to actually get off Piper...

..and still have the family. I mean, it's...

..it's...it's more than a miracle.

You have to remember the men who didn't make it back,

as well as the men who survived cos they had a hard time.

It's also for their...

for the children of the men,

survivors and those who perished,

because they're important people.

Later, two other survivors

who miraculously escaped from Piper Alpha meet up.

And one shares a burden he's lived with for 25 years.

We thought the radio operator should be... Should stand by his post.

When tragedy strikes,

the National Health Service is there for those in need.

But 65 years ago, it didn't exist.

Back then, free medical treatment wasn't available for everyone.

Teenage nurses Alma Britton, Irene Cadman

and Dena Murphy joined Park Hospital in Manchester in 1947

when health care was a luxury few could afford.

I was 17-and-a-half when I first went into nursing.

And it was an awful, rude awakening.

Babies died because the parents

hadn't got the money to call the doctor.

Economic constraints, really,

determined how much medical care you can actually afford.

They didn't question it. That's the way it was.

So, before the NHS, health care was not available to everyone.

Dena was deeply affected by a pensioner

who couldn't pay for her treatment.

A colleague and I were told to get a lady ready

to be transferred to another hospital.

All the way there, she was saying, "Oh, my God, love.

"Don't take me there. I'll be dead in a month."

We just thought it was the ramblings of an old lady.

I condemn myself for feeling like that now.

And we got there, and there were people calling out,

and they weren't getting the help they should.

It was, in a sense, a workhouse.

But that lady died within a month.

And, to this day, I could break my heart over it.

After the horrors of war, the country wanted better.

And in 1945, Clement Attlee's new Labour government

set about improving the nation's health.

The Labour Party's great victory

shows that the country is ready

for a new policy to face new world conditions.

Health minister Aneurin Bevan wanted to create something

not seen anywhere else in the world before.

A national health service providing free care

at the point of need for all.

I thought it was wonderful.

Aneurin Bevan had this dream. I hoped it all worked for him.

I was with him all the way.

But Bevan needed somewhere to launch his revolutionary project

and the three trainee nurses at Park Hospital

received some exciting news.

Of all the hospitals, Park was chosen.

Oh, coming to our hospital! Great! That's lovely.

We felt very privileged.

Gardens were tidied, uniforms were sorted.

Wards were spruced.

Knowing that they were to be among the first ever NHS nurses,

the girls bonded closer than ever.

We worked very hard, but we also had fun.

Happy nurses made good workers.

It was a really splendid achievement,

both for the hospital and for us all to take part.

On 5th July, 1948,

Bevan arrived at Park Hospital and launched the NHS.

The main thing I remember was him coming up the drive,

this rather distinguished looking gentleman.

The patients responded to him, you know.

He was a really charming man.

Dena, Alma and Irene were all there on that historic day

and became pioneers in the new health service.

I'm looking forward very much to meeting some of the girls

that I was with at that time.

Sometimes, you don't really appreciate how good it was

until you have the opportunity

to share it with somebody who was there at the same time.

And it gives you that feeling of, "Oh, that was good!"

The three former nurses haven't all been in the same room

for over 50 years.

We lost touch with one another.

No reason whatsoever, we just did.

Hopefully, today will sort that out.

So, later, they meet up at the very spot where the NHS was born.

Although we didn't realise it at the time, we were part of history.

The trauma of a medical emergency can stay with people for life,

but for many the most profound bonds are formed with the strangers

who come to their aid.

On 25th September, 2012,

French van driver Anthony Cassiere was delivering car parts

to the north of England when, suddenly, his life changed for ever.

Anthony had swerved off the A1 at 70 miles an hour

and slammed into the back of Richard Vahey's

broken down bus, parked on the hard shoulder.

Richard had just stepped off his vehicle

and was yards away from the devastating crash.

It looked like carnage.

Everything scrambled everywhere, there was smoke, there was oil,

loads of vehicles behind me

screeching and stuff like that and stopping.

And then all I thought about was phoning the emergency services.

Thanks to Richard's quick thinking,

his call to 999 meant help was dispatched within seconds.

We attend lots of road traffic collisions throughout the years

but this was a really difficult one to deal with.

Crushed beneath three tonnes of twisted metal,

Anthony came to in excruciating pain.

His left leg had been forced beneath the car seat,

almost cutting it in half and causing massive blood loss.

Paramedic Alison Slater was horrified by the crash scene.

I've seen vehicles with a lot less damage

where everybody's been killed in it.

And that was just unbelievable that he was still alive talking to us

when we got there. It was just devastation.

Because of his limited English, Alison struggled to give him

the urgent medical treatment he required.

Unable to communicate, bleeding heavily and close to death,

he started to panic.

We can't speak French.

We can't tell him what's going on. We can't reassure him.

The only English I can understand him saying was, "Don't let me die."

Incredibly, the next fireman on the scene

was exactly who the team needed.

French-speaking Jack Boas immediately realised

what was happening and rushed to Anthony's side.

We started the conversation going, which is very important,

I think, from our point of view, to calm him down.

It was a godsend.

It was fantastic. He could communicate, tell him the plan.

"Don't be scared, you're going to be fine."

Thanks to Jack's comforting words, the team were able to get on

with cutting him free of the wreckage and onto an air ambulance.

Jack visited Anthony in hospital after his shifts

and spent hours at his bedside. They've since become close friends.

It's my angel. Now.

Nine months on and ten operations later, Anthony's leg is mending

thanks to the team of strangers who pulled him back from the brink.

The first in the chain was bus driver Richard,

who made the 999 call.

You couldn't physically help him. You couldn't...

um...

do anything for him.

It would have been nice to put pressure on the wounds, stuff like that.

It was just so mangled in the back of the bus, I couldn't, physically, get to him.

Richard still has vivid memories of the crash but has never heard

the life-saving call he made.

-'Tell me exactly what's happened?'

-'A driver in a van just hit me,

'has hit me, actually full-whack...'

-'I understand.'

-'He's trapped in the vehicle. Trapped in the vehicle.'

I'm sorry.

HE EXHALES

But listening to the call has made Richard realise how one

moment can change a life for ever.

It might... It might have been me that day.

HE SNIFFLES

It'd be nice to see him.

Just make sure he's OK.

SPEAKS HIS OWN LANGUAGE

Today, Jack is once again translating for Anthony as he returns to the UK

to thank the men and women who saved him.

When visiting Anthony in hospital, erm,

his main concern was not his legs but he asked about the driver

in the bus. And he says he'd like to apologise to him.

-I think Anthony just wants to shake his hand.

-How are you?

-How are you?

-I'm so sorry.

-It's OK. Don't worry about it, honestly.

I'm just glad to see you're physically OK.

We're getting there with him, definitely.

Thank you very much for calling 999.

-I'm so sorry.

-No, it's...

It's very, very...

important for me...

SPEAKS OWN LANGUAGE

-For him to apologise.

-No, I'm just glad you're OK.

-No problem, no problem.

-Yeah.

Anthony still has one more big thank you for

the team who saved him and has made something which says it all.

LAUGHTER

Union Jack and my...my heart.

-Thank you for saving my life.

-It was a pleasure.

< RICHARD: You're welcome.

Is his leg going to be OK then?

They mentioned in the hospital it would be a year before

-he'd be able to walk again.

-Right.

-At the moment, it's nine months.

-Fantastic.

-And he's walking.

-The rest of your life to look forward to now.

Meeting Anthony today just reminds you why we do the job that we do.

To see him here today looking fit and well, it's really fantastic.

I think it's made a tremendous difference for Anthony

to meet everybody who was involved in such a dramatic event,

and closure has been the major word of the day and, er...

for him, it will help him, there's no two ways about it.

The National Health Service is an institution

which defines Britain, and for 65 years, it's provided care when

we've needed it most, without a hefty price tag.

Health Minister Nye Bevan chose Park Hospital in Manchester

to be the place the NHS was born on the 5th of July 1948.

Before that, there were some people who couldn't even get treatment

because they didn't have the money to pay for it.

I was very privileged indeed to feel part of something that was new

and so much better and my friends, who I had started work with,

they were all part of it.

Retired nurses Irene Cadman and Alma Britton have remained in touch,

but for the first time in 50 years, they're meeting their colleague,

Dena Murphy, to relive their moment in history.

-Oh, look who's come to see us!

-Hello. Look at you two.

-Do you think we're wearing well?

-Well, I know darn well I am!

-You've got some photographs.

-Yes, I have.

-Oh, great.

I don't know if you've seen these before?

-Guess who?

-Oh, yes.

-Now, looking back, you think of him as he was

that day.

All beams and smiles, you realise he had achieved what he set out to do.

-Absolutely.

-He was a man with a vision.

He was a man with a vision

and he was one of the few people who can actually get there.

We were fortunate that he chose Park.

That's right.

It's not often one gets the chance to actually stand

and watch history being made.

-It was a pretty amazing day.

-Yeah, totally. Absolutely.

Because the NHS was such a radical idea, the Government created an

ad campaign explaining it to the general public.

It's all yours whenever you want it with your own choice of doctor.

And that goes for the whole family.

It needed to be advertised, didn't it?

I don't think people believed it at first.

But it came in...huge success.

-I couldn't agree more.

-To me, what's amazing

is this man, Bevan, wakened up with an idea in his head...

and from that idea grew a whole, complete, turnaround of the concept

of how people were looked after when they were ill.

And it... It was an immense stride for this country as a whole.

And it happened in that little hospital there

and we were there on that day.

Alma, Irene and Dena saw first-hand how the new NHS changed Britain.

Very, very quickly...

we got a much healthier...

population...

and it was very fast.

Because things were AVAILABLE.

And it was pretty blooming wonderful.

Suddenly, you could go to the doctor, you know.

You could go to the dentist.

It was incredible, really.

I believe we saved thousands of lives

with the NHS in the first 12 months. How many's been saved since,

I just couldn't calculate.

From sick children and pregnant mothers to emergency surgery

and organ transplants, the Health Service has grown beyond

what anyone could have imagined in 1948.

It now helps over 600,000 people every day.

Life expectancy has gone up and infant mortality has gone down.

It's far from perfect, but today, almost 2 million people work

in the NHS, dedicated to providing life-saving treatment for all.

The three former nurses are returning to the hospital

where the Health Service and their careers began.

At least that's one thing that hasn't changed...

-What?

-The tower.

-Ha! That says it all, doesn't it?

-Yes.

-I remember...

-Getting in at the last minute, looking up at the clock...

-"I'm late."

-"Nearly 11 o'clock."

-"I'm late, I'm late!"

-Charging in.

-We were young, daft and had tremendous enthusiasm for life,

-I think.

-And very resilient.

-Well, we had to be.

-I suppose so, yeah.

-That's right.

For Alma, Dena and Irene, returning to the place

where it all began has brought the memories flooding back.

This hospital was so nice for a young person to be...

-It was.

-Although we didn't realise it at the time...

-No.

-..we were part of history.

It has been a trip down memory lane and lovely to come back

and see that the good work that we started has been continued.

It makes you feel very proud, really.

That you were part of it at the beginning.

At 10pm on the 6th of July 1988, a gas pump with a broken safety valve

exploded aboard the oil rig Piper Alpha,

120 miles off the Scottish coast.

As flames engulfed the platform, one man tried to raise the alarm.

But radio operator, David Kinrade, was forced to leave his station.

There was shouts and uproar...when the lights went out and then

the emergency lights went out and the place was filling up with smoke.

Scaffolder Joe Meanen scrambled through the chaos to the

helicopter deck.

To escape the growing inferno, he had to jump off the rig.

It's every man for himself and you've got to do it.

If you stayed there, you'd be dead.

On the other side of the helideck, David Kinrade was desperately

looking for a way out when another explosion rocked the rig.

And after I'd been thrown down on the floor by this explosion,

I got up and through the smoke I ran across the helideck and leapt off.

David and Joe both survived

a 180-foot jump into the freezing North Sea.

Picked up by rescue boats and hospitalised with burns

and broken bones, they were among the lucky few.

167 men died that night.

But David has spent 25 years being haunted by memories

of the disaster.

I don't know... I don't know how to explain it.

Er...

It was just a feeling of, was there something more I could do

or I could have done at the time?

Er...

Just thought that the radio operator really should be,

should stand by his post.

Joe saw their actions in a very different light.

If I hadn't made it, I would have hoped nobody who had survived

had felt guilty.

You know, because...

..that was my philosophy of it, you know. They should go on...

having got a second chance and go and embrace it and move on.

For four of the survivors from that dreadful night in July 1988,

the reunion is a chance to share memories of friendship and loss.

-I remember the smile!

-I know! Thanks very much!

-How you doing?

-Nice to see you.

-Did you go back, after all?

-No, never.

-I've never even been in a helicopter again.

-Me neither.

About three months later, they asked me if I wanted to go out.

Within a week, I'd decided there was no way I was going.

And I've...

-..like you, never been in a helicopter since.

-No.

For David, it's the end of a 25-year wait to ask if he should have

done anything differently.

I feel terrible about the fact that, er...

I was the radio operator on duty. I don't know whether you're

supposed to sit in the radio room and wait until the thing disappears.

So, you think you should have gone down with the ship, do you?

Down with the ship, sort of scenario, yes.

As all radio operators in the merchant navy are supposed to do.

Yeah, well I was merchant navy trained, you see.

To blame yourself, it's very...it's being hard on yourself.

You jumped off the helideck, for goodness' sake, you know...

-I didn't have any option.

-Well, you didn't but you did it.

You know, you... We've got nothing to feel guilty about.

No, not at all. We all done what we had to do.

And nobody should feel guilty at all about that, you know.

Thank you, Joe, thank you.

It's a great burden to be lifted off my shoulders.

And it's all individual but we're all here together and

survived the same thing and it's, it's just great to see you all.

Yeah, mate, yeah.

Thanks, Joe.

Put your hands on there, boys.

I think we've all coped very well considering the damage

what was done to mind and spirit on that, on that night.

And it's good to see them in good form.

The best thing that's come out of it is what Dave said,

and we've taken a bit of a burden off his shoulders.

I think we all feel good about that.

I think it's going to put a new perspective on life for me.

Erm, I think it's something I had to try and put behind me

and put to rest and I had not really made any effort or

attempt in the last 25 years to do that.

Feelings of guilt...

No, I'm hoping he's shed some of that today.

No, perhaps he'll go forward on what's he learnt.

We'll never forget those men who lost their lives

and the suffering of their families and children.

This is something we will live with all the rest of our lives.

Next time...

They made Royal history in 1953, but haven't seen each other in 60 years.

I wondered where you'd got to.

LAUGHTER

And saved from the deadly cold North Sea by a stranger.

If he hadn't been there, I wouldn't have been alive today.