Episode 7 Real Lives Reunited

Ordinary people who've shared extraordinary moments...

When you've been coping with life and death,

it does mark you for the rest of your life.

..thrown together by disaster, never to see each other again.

If he hadn't have got me from Mum...

I would've probably died as well.

And strangers who became heroes...

My purpose in this life was to save Sam, so...

I done it.

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

..brought together by fate, separated by life...

Today, survivors of the worst civilian disaster

of World War II meet to share stories of heroism and escape.

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

The Air Ambulance crew meet the baby they risked their lives to save.

This is what I've been waiting for.

And veterans of one of the UK's forgotten wars

are reunited after 60 years.

It is old Ted!

During World War II, German plans to smash British morale

led to the Blitz.

-ARCHIVE NEWSREADER:

-Bombs fell alike on the homes of the East End poor

and the Mayfair rich.

On shops, hospitals, churches.

Nazi bombs killed almost 20,000 civilians

and left 1.4 million people homeless.

But nothing could prepare the country for the tragedy

of March 3rd, 1943,

on the steps of an East London bomb shelter.

And I thought I was going to die.

The actual stairway was covered

in two, three, to four bodies high.

During the war,

the East End of London was a densely populated, working-class area.

It was a very, very close community.

We all knew the people opposite

and we'd all look after one another.

Everybody was friendly.

We lived upstairs and me gran and granddad lived downstairs.

But the area's factories made it a major target during the Blitz,

and many East Enders looked to Bethnal Green Underground for shelter.

As one of the few deep-level stations in the area,

it could hold up to 7,000 people.

For 13-year-old Alf Morris, it was a part of life.

We'd come home from school,

and our parents or mother would say,

"Go and line up at the Tube to get a place."

So you run down the escalators, into the platform,

and wherever you threw the blanket,

that's where you slept that night.

Once you got down there, you felt safe.

By 1941, the London Blitz had petered out.

But Londoners still lived in fear of surprise German bombing raids.

So, after news of a massive Allied raid on Berlin in early March, 1943,

London held its breath,

fearing a retaliatory strike by the Germans.

On the evening of March 3rd, that fear seemed to become a reality.

At around about five to eight, the radio just went dead. Boom.

So we knew then that there was going to be an air raid.

20 minutes later, sirens rang out across the capital.

My mother, my aunt, her two children,

myself and my sister run towards the Tube.

Me and my aunt run through Victoria Park Square,

and we got to the top of the Tube and we started to go down.

There was loads of bangs,

and my mother and aunt thought they were bombs.

So we three run on in front.

And all of a sudden, got to the middle of the staircase

and there was a terrific noise.

The sound of an anti-aircraft gun was mistaken for bombs.

"Get down, get down! There's bombs, there's bombs, there's bombs!"

At that moment, hundreds of people trying to get into the shelter

surged towards the wet and poorly lit stairs.

My aunt got pushed to the right and I got pushed to the left.

And the people were all falling round me.

Official accounts claim a woman and child slipped on the bottom step,

causing those behind to fall.

You couldn't move. You couldn't go down and you couldn't go out.

I was pressed against the wall.

I felt myself being crushed.

The two young boys were trapped.

I was 13 and I was screaming for my mother, screaming, screaming hard.

I put my hands in front of me and I slithered down.

And I don't know how long I stayed like that.

17-year-old Home Guard recruit Bob Saxton was passing the Tube

on his way to work.

People were crying and screaming

because the actual stairway

was covered in two, three, to four bodies high.

And as I walked down, I was actually saying sorry

to everyone I stepped on.

Bob wasn't alone in his bravery.

All around him, ordinary people risked their lives to help.

It was an air raid warden who reached Alf just in time.

She put her arms underneath my arms and just laid back

and just kept pulling, pulling and pulling.

And they started moving all the bodies round me.

I didn't know they were dead.

As I was on the floor, a policeman grabbed hold of me,

took me upstairs.

They was laying all the bodies along the pavement.

173 people had been killed in the crush.

Joan Martin was a 26-year-old junior doctor at the local hospital,

where the dead and injured were taken.

But when they did pull the bodies out, they laid them

on the pavement and threw water on them

in hoping to revive them.

And we had to go through every one of them

to see whether they were still alive or not.

62 of those who died were children.

But not a single bomb fell on Bethnal Green that night.

For months I couldn't go to sleep

because all the time I was seeing people being trampled on.

It was the worst civilian disaster of World War II.

But in the days that followed there was a conspiracy of silence.

Officials feared the news would damage the country's morale.

The fact that one was told not to tell anybody was the serious thing.

Those days, you did as you were told.

Today, survivors Peter and Alf are meeting rescuer Bob Saxon

and Dr Joan Martin, to share their memories of loss.

I didn't talk about this for 50 years.

-JOAN:

-Nor did I.

We were told by the elder people to say nothing,

and you kept yourself quiet.

Never forget it. Alf was one of the last to be saved.

Had it on your mind all these years.

I didn't attempt to tell people about it, not even my own family,

because the next day at the hospital

they told us that we were to remain completely silent.

In fact, we were sworn to secrecy.

That's the one who died with me, Barbara.

She was seven.

I was 12 and a half.

And that's me sister. She was 17.

Both died standing in front of me.

-Dreadful.

-Dreadful night.

-It's good to talk about it.

-Yeah.

In 2013, after almost 70 years,

a permanent memorial was laid

to the victims of the Bethnal Green Tube disaster.

Bob, Alf, Joan and Peter finally have somewhere to pay their respects

to those who died in the terrible tragedy.

'I was looking at every one of them

'and I could see some of my friends

'and their mums and little kids.

'It was soul-destroying.'

'When me mother died,

'in her wardrobe was the coat me sister was wearing

'when she lost her life.'

'It's something that, in my life, I shall never, ever forget.'

Later, two people whose lives are connected by a Bethnal Green hero

meet for the first time.

I always wanted to thank PC Penn,

but I was never able to.

To see a child in danger is every parent's worst nightmare,

and it can happen in the most unlikely of places.

Watchet is a picturesque fishing village in Somerset.

When Kate Cooper and Martin Stephens' first child, Sam,

was born, it was the perfect place to bring him up.

It's a great town.

It's just the best community ever here. You know everyone.

Everyone looks out for each other.

Just a good old-fashioned Somerset town, I reckon.

On a cold, blustery Sunday morning in January, 2013,

Kate was out with Sam for a stroll by the sea.

You know, usual get-up, sort the dogs out, put Sam in his buggy...

Pottering along here with the dogs.

One of them unfortunately went to the loo, so I turned round to pick it up.

I'd put the brake on.

And the next thing I know is

Sam's buggy is skidding across the harbour wall.

A sudden gust of wind caught Sam's buggy

and flicked it into the freezing waters of the harbour.

Kate had to make an instant decision -

dive in after her baby or try to raise the alarm.

I was going to jump in.

I was stripping off, taking my coat, my boots off.

And then I could see his body was upside down.

Something said, "Don't, you won't be able to do anything."

So I just carried on screaming as much as I could.

Horror.

Just this complete horror.

Tanya Allen lives right next to the harbour wall.

'I was in bed.'

It was about 8.30 in the morning

and I suddenly heard a lot of shouting, a lot of screaming.

It sounded like somebody was really, really distressed.

As Tanya around towards the screams,

she shouted to her husband, Ben, to call 999.

Whoever was on the line who I spoke to realised it was very serious,

because I'm begging them, "Please, come quick, this is a baby."

Dock master George Reeder was at work on the other side of the harbour.

I could hear them as plain as can be, someone shouting, "My baby, my baby!"

So I got on my bike, cycled over quickly,

just dumped my bike down and ran over

and I could see the upturned buggy starting to go over,

and literally just jumped in.

With no thought for his own safety,

63-year-old George dived into the deadly cold water.

I had my big rigger boots on

and they're like a couple of sea anchors.

It's taking me back slowly.

George managed to reach out and grab Sam's buggy

seconds before it disappeared beneath the waves.

I could see the buggy was sort of on its side and starting to go over.

So I paddled out to it quickly turned it over,

brought it back into the quayside,

and by that time somebody had thrown down a rope.

Tied the rope on quickly.

Locals rushed to the harbour wall

and pulled the sodden buggy from the water.

Ben actually pulled the baby over the edge

and then we saw little Sam come out.

But six-month-old Sam had spent ten minutes face-down in icy sea water.

His mother was terrified.

He looked dead. He was pale, floppy.

So I just got him out and Tanya said, "Put him on the floor,"

and she straightaway started doing CPR.

Tanya had been taught first aid at work.

I'd never been trained to do it on a baby,

but it was an automatic reaction.

We were both sort of saying, "Come on, Sam, come on, Sam,"

and he just took this amazing breath in.

COUGHING

And he started making a really low, horrible moan.

But it was like, kind of, he's making a noise, that's brilliant.

Locals had immediately pulled together,

and, without a word, became a team.

I'm proud of my wife for what she done,

but I'm proud of everyone who was there that day.

Yeah, it's sort of teamwork.

When the community comes together... Fred Bacon, he went and got a rope.

The fisherman here helped lift it up, somebody helped shouting.

But the people of Watchet could only do so much.

Ten minutes in freezing water can kill an adult.

Baby Sam needed urgent medical treatment.

But the nearest hospital was 40 minutes away.

Ben's 999 call would prove crucial.

Later, we meet the team who risked their lives in the continuing fight

to save Sam's life.

I could see the waves were crashing against the wall on the other side,

and I was concerned they were going to engulf us over the top.

When strangers are forced to come together,

they can perform amazing feats,

and millions of young men after World War II had to do just that.

From 1945, new battle lines were drawn in the Cold War,

and the British government needed more troops.

National Service was born.

Over two million young men were brought into the army.

Fred Mullender and Derrick Thompson were among the raw recruits

drafted into the Suffolk Regiment.

In 1951, I was called up to do my National Service.

I went into the Army.

We were just friends who were taken away from our normal lives

and put in a situation where we had to make the best of it.

Left, right! Left, right! Left. Turn!

After six weeks' basic training,

many were then sent to front lines across the world.

And they said, "Yes, you're staying in the Suffolk Regiment, you're going to Malaya."

And then we said, "Malaya, where's that?"

Malaya was a British colony in south-east Asia

torn apart by a growing Communist insurgency.

The British Army sent its national servicemen

deep into the jungle to root out the armed rebels.

Robin Farmer was an 18-year-old officer

sent to command a platoon of Suffolks.

You had 90% local Suffolk, mainly farmer kids,

who hadn't got the faintest idea about military activities.

When I went out there, I said, "I've never carried a gun,

"I've never been in a jungle,"

and then we were put into a duty company

to go jungle-bashing to sort these bandits out.

It was a hard life, really, for a young bloke like me.

And all the lads were young.

And you were up to your waist in mucky water,

you were covered with leeches, all over your body.

The teenage soldiers found themselves in the middle

of an escalating conflict.

We did see atrocities, we did find the rubber plantations being

burnt down, we did see lots of innocent people being killed.

So we knew what we were doing was for the benefit of the Malayan

people as a whole.

But there was a terrible price.

The death of a comrade brought the realities of war crashing down.

To see this young chap, I mean, he's no more age than me,

18, 19...

I mean, what the hell was he doing out there?

Eh?

You know, I...

That was... That was cruel.

Really cruel.

When you've been coping with life and death at that stage,

it does mark you for the rest of your life, really.

The young soldiers rapidly forged strong bonds together,

in the face of adversity.

You quickly made friends. You were all the same,

everybody would sort of welcome you in and you were accepted.

The men in my platoon were fantastic.

I took to them immediately. They made me very welcome.

I could trust them anywhere and they were just terrific guys.

Fred Mullender has particularly fond memories of one of his brothers in

arms, Ted Phillips, who later went on to play professional football.

We got on very well. I know he loved his football.

I remember him... He played against these Malayans.

He played in bare feet.

And, by God, could he hit a ball!

Fred has stayed in touch with Derrick,

but hasn't seen Ted in over 50 years.

And while the bonds they formed in the jungle remain strong,

memories of faces can fade.

Ha-ha! It is old Ted!

Ha-ha-ha!

Ah, good to see you, Ted. It really is. Really nice to se you.

I used to come and watch you play with old Crawford.

Cos I used to say, "That's old Ted Phillips there!

"I was in the army with him!" I would say, "Go on, Ted!"

Well, do I recognise that person over there?

Must be Derrick Thompson sitting over there.

And this is Lieutenant Robin...

-Last time I saw you. After Malaya.

-Yeah.

Well, it's great to see you again, by gosh! Brings back some memories.

Robin has brought his old notebook with comments

he wrote 60 years ago about the men he commanded,

including his former Corporal, Derrick.

"An average NCO who, with a little training, would be very good.

"Very willing, very popular in the platoon, capable and reliable.

"He's a very good type and should do well."

-What do you think about that, then?

-I've got a fan club after all!

LAUGHTER

After all these years, I mean, good God, we were all young boys,

or young men in them days, all handsome.

Now, we're all old and grey, decrepit.

And it's just nice to see him and say, "You're looking well!"

Yeah!

I've met somebody I never thought I was ever see in my life again.

Brilliant! Brilliant! There's only two words for it.

Who could believe that guys like us,

aged 18, with hardly any training, doing so well.

So I really, really am proud of them.

The whole country should be proud of what they did.

Being in the same platoon together...

After all these years, fantastic!

In January 2013, in the sleepy village of Watchet,

a freak accident made heroes of neighbours and friends.

The six-month-old boy was being pushed along the harbour

at Watchet in Somerset when his pushchair fell into

the freezing waters for up to ten minutes.

Ordinary people pulled together to save baby Sam.

Dockmaster George Reeder risked his life to pluck

the six-month-old from the icy water and Tanya Allen gave him CPR.

But he still needed urgent medical attention if he wasn't to die.

He looked dead. He was pale, floppy...

Devon's Air Ambulance was scrambled within minutes,

but even seasoned paramedic Mark Hawley feared the worst.

A young child, in the sea. What are his chances?

Slim.

Speed was everything and the crew knew they needed to land

as close as possible to the harbour wall in order to save the child.

But with gusts of up to 50mph pounding the helicopter,

Mark thought they had no hope of getting close.

You could feel the wind buffeting us about.

I could see the waves were crashing against the wall on the other

side and I was concerned that they were going to engulf us over the top.

But pilot Dan Smith had 20 years' experience flying military

helicopters, and could execute a very difficult manoeuvre.

We decided that we would have a go at landing on the harbour wall.

We made our approach, he said, "We can make one attempt at this,"

and we knew how critical it was to get there as close as possible

and get there as quickly as possible.

I think you had to see it to believe, to really appreciate

what went on when he landed that thing.

Against the odds, Dan landed the helicopter on the six-metre

strip of harbour wall in dangerous winds.

But as paramedics Mark and Glenn rushed to Sam's side,

it was quickly apparent the fight wasn't over yet.

He was profoundly hypothermic.

And, er...that was a huge concern to us all.

The paramedics were gravely worried about Sam.

During flight, he was absolutely freezing cold,

so we'd wrapped him up, we were supporting him with oxygen,

that's really all we could do for Sam.

I struggled to leave Mum and say anything positive to her

as I left, cos I didn't believe that the outcome would be as it is.

The Air Ambulance got Sam to the hospital in ten minutes,

and things immediately started to look brighter.

The speed with which everyone reacted gave Sam the seconds

crucial to his life.

When he woke up in the hospital,

the first thing he did was just to look round,

and it is that... It is nearly that same feeling you get

when they get put in your arms when they're first born.

For him to make, you know, such a quick recovery

and a full recovery, and your heart is just filled with joy.

You know, it was a miracle.

Since Sam's miraculous rescue, parents Kate and Martyn

and rescuers George, Tanya and Ben have become firm friends,

but they haven't been able to say thank you to the Air Ambulance crew,

who played such a vital part in Sam's survival.

It'd just be nice to say thank you to them in person,

and nice for them because they get to see Sam all right.

For paramedic Mark it's an incredible moment to see Sam again.

It's been more than once that I've gone home,

when I've attended a child, and it's not been such a happy ending.

I've gone home and shed a tear with my wife and hugged my daughter.

So I'm really looking forward to seeing him.

I kind of feel that when I see him I want to give him a big hug, really.

Kate and Martyn have travelled to the Devon Air Ambulance base

to meet the heroic team who risked their lives to save their baby son.

And the crew have a souvenir for Sam

so he can remember his first ever helicopter ride.

-You get to keep him because you came with us.

-That's for you, Sammy.

I haven't got words, really, to say thank you enough, so...

Oh, give me a hug. Thank you very much!

-You're welcome.

-Nice to see you.

-Cuddle?

-You going for a cuddle?

D'you think he might? There will be tears.

Hello, rascal! Hey! This is what I've been waiting for.

But for the professionals,

it's the heroic teamwork of strangers which stands out.

George and Tanya arrive to meet the other half of the team.

George, absolutely tremendous, amazing bravery,

going straight in there, mate.

We'd all like to hope that we could do the same thing.

And you, Tanya, you know, out of your comfort zone,

doing something you've never done before, you know,

reacting like you did, in your nightie, amazing.

I wouldn't have done it in my nightie!

-You made the difference, you did.

-You really genuinely did. It feels good, don't it?

You know, if somebody's up there watching,

they've been watching me for all me life cos I...

My purpose in this life was to save Sam, so...I've done it.

The East End of London took the brunt of German bombing

during World War II,

and its population sought safety in the deep underground Tube stations.

But on 3rd March, 1943, 173 people rushing to take shelter

in Bethnal Green Tube Station were crushed to death on its steps.

Thomas Penn was an off-duty policeman

escorting his heavily pregnant wife to the shelter.

Doreen Freeman is their daughter.

He saw something going on at the entrance, so he took my mother across

the road to stand her under a railway bridge,

went over to the entrance and saw a crush of people there.

Then went down and started pulling people out.

Got overcome with the heat, he climbed back up, recovered,

went back down, carried on pulling people out

until the other services came and then other people went and helped.

Margaret McKay was six months old

and was taken by her mother to the Tube shelter that evening.

Why she went to the shelter no-one knows, because she never, ever went

to that shelter, she always went to one opposite where they lived.

Margaret's mother died in the crush. Margaret survived.

But it was 20 years before she learned exactly what happened to

them that night, and that PC Thomas Penn was the man who saved her.

As the disaster was happening, he saw Mum holding me up,

and he said, "If you're going to die, lady, pass me your baby."

And she passed me to him,

and he passed me out to the entrance.

If he hadn't have got me from Mum, I would've probably died as well.

I mean, he could've lost his life also.

I mean, such a brave man, he went back in three or four times.

To see women and children dead and dying must've been horrific.

Especially, he was a young man then.

You know, he had one child and I was on the way.

I always wanted to thank PC Penn, but I was never able to

because I didn't know till later...

..what he did.

Today, Margaret and Doreen are meeting to celebrate

PC Penn's heroism,

and bring Margaret one step closer to the man who saved her life.

I was told...

..that his wife was outside,

and she was heavily pregnant, and that was with you.

-And he put her under the railway arch, Bethnal Green?

-Yeah.

-And there she stood.

-Oh, bless her.

-And there you are.

-Yeah. 70 years.

-Yeah, 70 years.

-Oh, crikey. Oh, dear, oh, Lord.

I wished I could've met your dad but it wasn't to be.

-Cos you were, what, six months?

-Yeah.

And I was born three weeks afterwards,

-so there's not a lot of difference between us.

-No, there isn't.

-I'm so thrilled to meet you.

-You've never seen a picture of my father.

That's my father.

-That's him when he first joined the police.

-He was so young.

And that's him later on as an older man.

-And they're a present for you to keep.

-Oh, my goodness!

I don't know what to say! Thank you so much, Doreen.

-You're very welcome.

-Thank you so much.

You don't know what it means to me.

And he deserved a lot more recognition than he got.

Bless him. Bless him.

-Thank you, Dad.

-Yeah. Thank you, PC Penn.

Next time, survivors of one of the country's worst rail

disasters meet for the first time in over a decade.

I think you and all your pollies can be incredibly proud of what

you did, and you probably haven't been told that enough.

And a footballer whose heart stopped on the pitch thanks those

who brought him back from the brink.

I couldn't believe how good they were.

It brought everyone together.