nsarchives's video: W G MacLaughlan Images of Campbell Road and Barrington Street after Halifax Explosion

Personal narrative by Harold Connolly. transcription (read by actor) The event remains an indelible memory. It happened on a mild sunshine morning. The date was December 6, 1917. I was late for class that day and, as was the custom, I knelt by my desk to say the class morning prayers. As I got off my knees (I remember we were doing a Latin lesson). I said to Parker Hickey my seat mate "What page are we at?" As I did so, I glanced out the window and saw a huge ball of fire in the sky. I yelled "Look at the fire!" As the heads turned there came a terrific blast that rocked and damaged the building. The glass was smashed in every window. Our teacher had the unique habit of having his desk face the window. Flying glass cost him the eye that was not turned away from the window. Statues were knocked from their pedestals. Plaster filled the air like thick fog. Brother McCartney ordered us to link hands and to head for the corridor. As Hickey and I made for the door of the classroom, not easy to find, we heard someone blubbering behind us. He said, "Who ' s that bawling?" I said "it' s Smithy. " Smithy was big Erin Smith, the largest boy in the class Said Hickey, "Kick him in the shins. " I had steel lifts on my shoes to make them wear longer. Following Hickey ' s injunction all the way to the classroom door I kicked Smithy ' s shins. The only marks he had as a result of the explosion were gouged shins caused by my steel plates. He couldn't understand how he had received them. Hickey and I bled copiously from cuts on the head caused by the flying glass. With our f aces bloodied we made the outdoors. The cuts were superficial however, and we were not really hurt. I went home that day with a boy named Dan McTiernan. He lived on Campbell Road which was an extension of Barrington Street north of North Street. We could not find his house because the neighborhood was a mass of flames. His mother died in the fire. Seeing the widespread conflagrations it occurred to me, then for the first time , that my own home might be in danger . Our house· was about half a mile from where the McTiernan home had been. When I arrived there I found my sister Margaret with a bad cut on her head, the roof of the house was ripped off and the south side pushed in . We did not know then that my father was hurt. He arrived home shortly after I did having walked all the way from downtown with a cut below the knee of his right leg which bled continuously. There were no antibiotics in those days and the doctors were unable to handle the blood poison that followed the wound. They might have saved his life by amputation but there was such a public outcry against amputations they listened to public opinion and so his life ended at the early age of 36 years in February. I was the eldest of his ten children. We were all ordered out of our homes because the authorities feared a dockyard explosion where a quantity of ammunition was stored. That did not happen, however, and we were allowed to return to our homes from the Commons where we had taken refuge. The top rooms of the house were uninhabitable and so we spent the night in the basement kitchen. My father obtained some wood and boarded up the kitchen windows. The children were put to sleep on tables and my mother, father and I stayed awake. That night there was a terrible blizzard. High winds vied with a heavy snowfall to create great difficulties. The rescue crews digging the living and the dead from the north end ruins were greatly impeded in their rescue efforts. The city was bathed in a red glow from the fires. By morning more than four feet of snow had fallen. It was obviously impossible for us to continue living at home. Some of the boys went to live with Aunt Margaret. I went with a family named Shields. My mother and the young ones took refuge with a woman named Mrs. Connors who used to look after my mother when the children were born. My father having at last gained medical treatment went to hospital. Relief depots were opened. Public buildings were used as dormitories for the homeless. They were fed, clothed and provided with blankets by a hastily drawn up emergency committee. The first aid to reach us was from Massachusetts. It arrived the following night in the form of medical supplies, doctors and nurses. Halifax should never forget Massachusetts. Years later in an address at Boston I tried to tell the people of that Commonwealth how grateful we were to them. Schools were repaired and converted into hospitals and morgues. The grief that followed, as people sought missing loved ones, is to me indescribable. There was great joy when they found the ones they sought, not too badly off, in hospital . When, however, they found them in morgues , their grief was inconsolable.