What If Gordon Banks Had Played, Part 10

22nd January 1977 — 6.02am, Bermondsey

The driver of the HMSO delivery van hardly registered what was happening as two masked men opened the doors of the truck and clambered it. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a violent blow to the back of his head. The two men quickly removed their balaclavas and pushed the unconscious body of the driver into the well behind the seats before executing a quick U-turn to drive the truck South towards Deptford. As they drove the second man switched on the car radio and twisted the dial to Radio 4, where the news headlines were detailing the latest events in Ulster.

From “A Woman's Place: An Autobiography”, by Margaret Thatcher (HarperCollins, 1989)

The first I heard of the military action in Northern Ireland on the 22nd January on my way into work. The power had gone down overnight and I had been unable to listen to the radio at home, my chauffeur Michael however told me of the mornings events and I was able to listen to the latest news on the radio as I travelled into central London. Enoch called an immediate emergency cabinet meeting in which those of us who had not been told in advance of the commencement of the military operation were fully briefed. The operation was an ambitious one, not only was West Belfast to be retaken, but it was to be cleared — hostile inhabitants were to be placed in internment camps, or where clear evidence was available prosecuted, while the normal hardworking residents of West Belfast who had been intimidated by IRA thugs for so long were to be moved to the custom built new-towns in the South of the province, away from sectarian confrontation and the the IRA dominated slums. Enoch announced that there would also be a statement to the House of Commons immediately after Prime Minister's Question Time, as we left our meeting at around quarter past eleven the first news began to come in of IRA revenge attacks on the mainland, bombs set off at train stations and shopping centres that killed and maimed women and children in six towns across England. Any doubts I had entertained about the necessity of strong action in West Belfast were immediately extinguished. The people we were up against were murderers of the most evil and callous sort and, as I said to Keith later that day, this was no time to go wobbly.

22nd January 1977 — 1.53pm, The Palace of Westminster

The Leader of the Opposition slumped back in his chair and sucked his teeth. Around the table in the Leader of the Opposition suite sat a handful of advisers, his private secretary, the Shadow Northern Ireland Secretary, Stan Orme, Bernard Donoughue the chief of policy and Healey's PPS Barry Jones. “It's a hard one to call,” Jones said.

“There are people dead, and not just in Northern Ireland, and we can't afford to go in all gung ho,” Healey said, his brow furrowed in thought. “We need to start with the normal tributes to the dead, our thoughts are with the families and the like.”

“The Government's behaviour is atrocious though,” said Orme. “We cannot allow them off the hook because people have died. People are dying because of their policies. The blood is on Powell's hands and we shouldn't let him get away with it.” Flecks of spit flew from Orme's mouth onto the table as he spoke.

“People are in shock though,” the Leader of the Opposition continued. “Bombs are going off on the street, women and children are dead. The public are going to be looking to the Government for leadership, they don't want to hear us whining about the Government's policies. We are effectively at war with the IRA and it is our duty to back the Government.”

“Rubbish,” Orme thundered. “It isn't IRA terrorists who soldiers are shooting at in Belfast. They're shooting at British citizens, workers and housewives. You know what the Government are doing. They are shooting people, knocking down their houses with bulldozers, forcing into trucks at gunpoint and sending them to camps. That isn't anti-terrorism — that's fascism. If we have any sort of duty to perform it's to stand up and tell the world that this is wrong.”

“We still can't just pile in. We need to take account of the mood of the people, if people see us attacking the Government they will, rightly or wrongly, see us as taking the IRA's side. They won't listen, they'll just back the Government all the more. We need to be quiet, reasoned and rational.”

“You have the backbenches to think of Dennis,” Jones said. “I've been speaking to some of the chaps this morning and they are baying for blood.”

“Forget the backbenches,” Orme interrupted. “You have the Shadow Cabinet to consider. I'm unhappy about it myself, but I've spoken to Tony, Eric, Jo and some of the others and some of them may be prepared to resign over it. Tony certainly.” Healey rolled his eyes in an expression that visibly said 'No great loss'.

From “Bloody Thursday: Ten Years On”, by Bill Phelps (Overlook, 1987)

The van and its unconscious driver were taken to a lock-up in Deptford where its contents, consisting mainly of order papers for the 22 January and copies of the previous day's Hansard were unloaded and replaced with the explosives. The copies of Hansard were again stacked at the back of the truck such that any cursory examination would not reveal the explosives. The four man unit was made up of three experienced veterans, and one Patrick Magee, 25, who was born in Belfast but grew up in Norwich and whose Southern English accent would not arouse suspicion. The driver of the van was tied up and gagged and left in the lock up. It must have taken around 5 hours to prepare the van, after which Magee drove the van back to Westminster, while the other three members of the unit prepared the second part of the plan.

22nd January 1977 — 2.05pm, The Palace of Westminster

“There's no question now,” Jim Prior said, sipping at his wine. “He has got to go. For all his intelligence, Enoch has blown it. You can't just...well, you just can't.” He looked round at the other Conservative “rebels”; Jim Prior, Robert Carr, Selwyn Lloyd, Bernard Wetherill, Angus Maude, Ken Clarke, Norman Fowler, Michael Heseltine and so on, there were 12 in all, gathered round a long table in one of the dining rooms off of the corridor below the Library corridor.

“The question of 'if' is old hat, it has been for a long time,” said Ken Clarke, the young MP for Rushcliffe, who was sat at the end of the table, struggling to light a cheap cigar. “The question now is how.”

Angus Maude nodded. “Ken's right. There is a sizable minority, perhaps even a majority if people were honest with their views, who want Enoch to go. The problem is how to do it. Enoch isn't the sort to politely shuffle off when the Chair of the '22 tells him to, and its not as if Biggs-Davidson would tell him such a thing anyway. All we could do by telling him what we think is get our cards marked.”

Ian Gilmour, the former Conservative MP who was effectively the deputy leader of the “National” Conservatives on the opposition benches spoke. “It's far from certain that you'll have to do anything. After all, the events of this morning could be the end for Enoch. If the statement in the Commons and PMQs go badly, and a few hostile questions from you lot...”

“...Of the, for God's sake go! variety...” interrupted Clarke.

“...Maybe not exactly that. But that's the general idea. If the violence escalates in the next few days Powell may be forced to go.”

Maude shook his head. “There's no way. He simply will not resign whatever happens. Even if we push a vote of no confidence, which under the circumstances is not completely out of the question, he would go to the country rather than resign.”

“And that,” Jim Prior continued. “Is the last thing we want. We would have the choice between a Labour Government or Powell returning with a new mandate. And my fear is that under the present circumstances the election would be seen as a choice for the public of whether or not they back Enoch against the terrorists. He could win a landslide. It would be a disaster.”

“All we can do then is speak,” Bernard Wetherill said at last. “I suppose Prime Minister's Question Time will be entertaining at least. Shall we start on the main course?”

22nd January 1977 — 3.10pm, The Palace of Westminster

The Palace of Westminster, or the Houses of Parliament as they are more colloquially known, consist mainly of a series of courtyards. To the West is the huge Norman edifice of Westminster Hall, the oldest part of the building, past this there are a series of corridors which link three main lobbies, the Lord's lobby, Central Lobby and Member's Lobby. Between these lobbies are eight courtyards, set in two columns of four. At the South end of the Palace there are two further courtyards, the Royal Court and the Chancellor's Court; at the North end is the Speaker's Court and the open space of New Palace Yard, under which is the Common's car park. The courtyards to the East are linked by a road which runs through the palace parallel to the Thames, from Black Rod's Garden to the South, through the Royal Court, through the Peers Courtyard and Inner Peers Courtyard and on through the Inner Commons Courtyard, the Common's Courtyard itself, the Speaker's Court until it finally reaches New Palace Yard.

At 3.10 a HMSO delivery van pulls up to the checkpoint at Black Rod's Gate. Security prior to the attack was much less strict than we see today (indeed Downing Street itself was only gated off the previous year in response to intelligence information putting Powell at the top of the IRA hit list) and policemen at the checkpoint only stop the van to check for car bombs underneath the vehicle, to phone through to the Vote Office to check that the delivery is expected (the complaint from the Vote Office that the lorry was supposed to have been there “f****** hours ago” fails to raise suspicions), and to open the back of the van to give the briefest of cursory glances at the papers stacked roof high inside. At 3.15 the van is waved through and turns left into the Royal Court.

The archways between the courtyards were designed in the 1830s for horse-drawn carriages and it is a tight fit as the truck passes through the two Peer's courtyards, past the huge trash compactors in the Inner Commons Courtyard and into the Commons Court. To the south of the Common's Court, along a side passage, is one of the three vote offices where MPs can collect Hansards, order papers or copies of Bills. To the East of the court is the Terrace Cafeteria where member's staff and Members themselves (cut off from the hoi-polloi by a screen) can dine, and above that on the first floor the Members Tea Room where many MPs gather after Question Time to “discuss the match”. To the West of the courtyard, beyond the No lobby, is the House of Commons chamber itself, and even from the courtyard one can hear the roar of the chamber. The truck pulls over and parks by the side of the courtyard, against the wall below the Commons chamber and the driver leaves the van. He checks his watch and quickens his pace a little. He is met by two men from the vote office, and asks them for directions to the toilet “before we get on with unloading the truck”. The driver goes left, past the gift shop and the canteen and right down the dining corridor, where he passes the toilets without stopping and walks onwards towards the Lower Waiting Hall and Central Lobby. By 3.19 he is walking briskly down Millbank and away from the Palace.

From Hansard, 5th Series, Volume 942, 22nd January 1977

PRIME MINISTER

Engagements

Q1. Sir Harmar Nicholls : To ask the Prime Minister if he will list his official engagements for Thursday 20 January.

The Prime Minister (Mr. Enoch Powell) : This morning I presided at a meeting of the Cabinet and had meetings with ministerial colleagues and others. In addition to my duties in the House, I shall be having further meetings later today.

Sir Harmar Nicholls : As the Prime Minister will know at least ten of my constituents were killed in a terrorist attack this morning. Will he join with me in condemning utterly this disgraceful act of cold blooded murder, and give me his assurance that he will not flinch or falter from the task of tracking down and punishing those responsible?

The Prime Minister : I am sure the whole house will join with me in condemning the activities of the Provisional IRA this morning and afternoon, not just in my honourable friend's constituency, but also in Slough, Manchester, Birmingham, Bristol and Reading. Our thoughts are naturally with the friends and families of those killed. I shall be making a full statement immediately after Prime Minister's Question Time, but I can unreservedly offer my honourable friend the assurance he requires.

Mr. Healey : May I associate all on the Labour benches with the Prime Minister comments in regard of the atrocities earlier today. We should bear in mind however, that atrocities were not solely committed by terrorists this morning...

Hon. Members : Shame!

22nd January 1977 — 3.19pm, The Palace of Westminster

“May I associate all on the Labour benches with the Prime Minister comments in regard of the atrocities earlier today. We should bear in mind however, that atrocities were not solely committed by terrorists this morning,” Dennis Healey paused for effect and it took a second for the implications of his question to register on the Government benches, there was a rumble of outrage from the Tory squirarchy and several shouts of “shame!” Healey ploughed onwards “Can the Prime Minister confirm that it is this Government's policy to shell civilian houses, to send armed soldier and heavy armour against civilian target and to forcibly imprison and incarcerate British subjects?” As Healey finished the question the pent up roar of anger from the benches opposite was released, a wall of outrage and flapping order papers. Healey took his seat, doubt in his mind, had he overplayed his hand? Enoch Powell rose to his feet and gently laid his hands upon the despatch box, the Tory benches quietened, awaiting his answer.

It never came.

As the Prime Minister opened his mouth to speak there was a thunderous noise from behind the Labour benches, an overwhelming blast of sound. The wooden doors to the No lobby were flung violently into the chamber like matchwood, followed instantaneously by a belch of smoke and fire and the stones of the Palace themselves as the Eastern side of the chamber crumbled in upon itself. The chamber became bedlam as those Members not trapped in the initial blast flung themselves from the opposition benches and tried to force their way through the doors as the fire spread rapidly around the wooden panelling. On the Government benches members pushed and shoved, throwing punches as they fought towards the doors into the Aye lobby and away from the fire. Above the chamber the timbers supporting the public gallery, themselves alight, creaked and splintered, tipping screaming spectators into the chaos below.

Throughout the Palace the fire and division bells began ringing as the police ran to begin evacuating the building, the Commons attendants almost dragging Members from the lobbies as the flames licked across the carpet. Within the devastated chamber the roof and walls creaked above the crackle of flames and the crashes of falling masonry as the floor of the chamber began to sag into the offices below.

The emergency services were on the scene almost immediately. The police and attendants based at the Palace themselves were evacuating the chamber and the offices below it, shepherding Commons secretaries from the offices below the chamber up the stairs into Star Chamber Court. Outside the high pitched whine of emergency sirens could be heard as Ambulances raced across the bridge from St Thomas' and the the first Fire Engines arrived at the Palace.

From BBC1, 22 January 1977 3.28pm

“We interrupt this programme to bring you an urgent newsflash from the BBC newsroom”.

A flustered Richard Whitmore appeared on the screen, “The BBC has, in the last couple of minutes, received news that there has been a major explosion within the House of Commons chamber. The explosion took place during Prime Minister's Question Time. The Houses of Parliament are on fire and are being evacuated, there is, as yet, no news of casualties and the whereabouts of the Prime Minister and the rest of the cabinet are unknown. The Police have not yet issued any statements on whether this is thought to be a further terrorist attack and...Hold on.” A piece of paper was pushed into shot and into Whitmore's hand. “I'm just being informed that BBC political correspondent John Cole, who was in the chamber at the time of the blast, is outside the Houses of Parliament now, we're going to see if we're able to speak with him.”

John Cole was stood, his suit wet from the light rain, upon College Green. His hair was dishevelled and his face smeared with dirt. The light was beginning to fade and the blue lights of the emergency services were flashing across the scene. Behind him was the Gothic edifice of Westminster Hall and St Stephen's Tower and from the depths of the building billowed a huge plume of smoke.

“Hello John. What can you tell us?”

“Hello Richard. There is very little information here as yet, the police have cordoned off Parliament Square and MPs and their staff are being evacuated onto the square itself. The emergency services are in attendance and I understand they are still fighting the blaze.”

“Do we have any idea of what actually happened?”

“I was in the press gallery when the explosion occurred,” Cole continued. “It came from the opposition side of the chamber, and from outside the chamber itself. The opposition side of chamber seemed to collapse partially and the chamber itself was on fire. I don't know anything about casualties yet, though paramedics are treating some casualties in New Palace Yard.”

“Was it a bomb, John?”

“I can't think of any other explanation, Richard.”

“Do we know if the cabinet are safe yet?”

“There is still no news at all about casualties Richard. I have seen Patrick Jenkin and Margaret Thatcher in Parliament Square, but there is no official news about anyone...” Cole was cut off by a blast from behind him, and another plume of smoke, dust and fire rose from Parliament Square. There was a flurry of activity and the sound of screams over the wail of the sirens. Cole looked round, speechless for a second as his took in the scene.

“John? Can you hear us, John?”

“Yes, Richard. There has been another explosion. It looks as if one of the ambulances at the scene had been rigged to explode. There are more casualties I can see....”

22nd January 1977 — 3.34pm, COBRA (Cabinet Office Briefing Room A)

“Well, where is he?” Robert Armstrong said tetchily as the florescent lights flickered into life inside the bunker.

“He's safe, he's on his way.” Armstrong looked suspiciously at the special branch officer in front of him. He didn't even know the man's name. “He is being brought through the Parliamentary tunnel system and Q-Whitehall.”

Willie Whitelaw arrived first, his face flushed and sweaty and his suit ripped. He took a seat without a word and sat silently, catching his breath. Powell arrived a few seconds later, followed closely by Sir Robert Mark, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, and a white and shaken Airey Neave.

“Prime Minister,” Armstrong said, standing to attention.

“Robert, Willie,” Powell seemed fired up, twitching with anticipation. “You both know Sir Robert, he will be taking Gold command for the incident, based at Scotland Yard.” One of the many phones set into the tabletop rang.

The PM's Private Secretary picked up the phone immediately. “There's been another explosion. One of the ambulances in Parliament Square.” Powell nodded without emotion. Willie Whitelaw winced. The door opened and Sir Michael Hanley, the head of MI5 slipped into the room.

“I thought it would be useful if we could begin by asking Sir Robert to give us a quick briefing on the information available to us so far.”

“What we know, or at least think, so far is that some sort of bomb — probably a car bomb — was planted in the courtyard to the West of the Commons chamber and exploded at around 3.20. The bomb destroyed the western wall, bringing down the western side on the building onto the chamber itself and the offices beneath it. Casualties are unknown, but with 600 people squashed into a small room with limited exit points I am afraid it may be bad news. A first estimate would be around 100 casualties, not counting any injured in the subsequent blast in Parliament Square. The building is still on fire, and firefighters are in attendance, my officers are attempting to take control of the situation in Parliament Square.” The phone rang and Robert Armstrong quietly answered it.

“We need to work out our immediate next moves,” Airey Neave began. “There is no point Enoch going on the television until he has something to say — that is until we have a full knowledge of the situation. We do need to put out an immediate statement telling people that he is safe — that the Government continues.”

“I'll get someone onto it,” Willie said, picking up one of his phones.

Robert Armstrong put his telephone receiver down and glanced down at his notes. “Dennis Healey is dead,” he said quietly. “There are 215 MPs unaccounted for, though that is a very preliminary figure and will include people who were paired or absent or whatever, the Speaker is missing, Heath is missing, so are Stan Orme, Michael Foot, Dennis Howell, Roy Hattersley, Bruce Millan, Bob Mellish, David Steel, Shirley Williams, Tam Dalyell, Donald Stewart, Cyril Smith, at least a hundred or so Labour backbenchers, on our side Humphrey Atkins is unaccounted for, Tom King, Sally Oppenheim, Ken Clarke, Marcus Fox...”

“He was absent,” Willie said quietly. “At home in Yorkshire.”

“As I said, these are just preliminary. Hopefully many of them will be found...” Armstrong prepared to continue the grisly list but was stopped by the Prime Minister.

“That's enough, Robert. We will learn in due course who has been taken from us,” Powell said in a strained voice.

Willie nodded, biting his lower lip. “There but for the grace of God go I...”