Tony and Jan Jasper sit close, not speaking as they silently replay their shared visit to hell. The Paddington rail disaster they survived that frosty October morning 20 years ago today has not faded at all.
“I have a very vivid memory of every step,” says Tony, and Jan nods, as they recall the tragedy that killed 31 and injured 600 when two trains collided.
But neither can remember smells – although Tony ended up doused in diesel – nor sounds. They wonder if it is their brains’ way of protecting them from the full horror of their experience.
The pair did not know each other back then but met nine months later on a Paddington Survivors’ Group minibus on the way to the inquiry into the crash.
Both were in a “fragile state” from PTSD, but they found comfort in each other, Tony offering to show Jan around Westminster Hall where the inquiry was held, she “buying him an ice cream” – joyful, normal moments amid the pain.
The next week the divorcees met to chat “rail safety” – but it was really a date. Not long afterwards, Tony invited Jan to his house and “she never left”.
“It was extraordinary luck,” says Tony. Their love story made headlines when they married on Valentine’s Day 2004.
It seemed a fitting ending for a hero...
Tony was awarded a Certificate of Commendation by the Chief Constable for clambering from the wreckage at Ladbroke Grove, West London, to scale two carriage roofs and pull out 65 passengers. He was haunted by those so badly injured he couldn’t help. His trauma forced him to quit his job at a computer firm, and attempts at shop work proved too overwhelming.
But following therapy, time and Jan’s support – while she also continued to battle PTSD – he began volunteering as an emergency ambulance officer eight years ago.
“At Paddington I was very good at getting people out of the train, but I was not very good at keeping them alive afterwards,” he says, as Jan, 68, gently berates his self-criticism.
“I had 65 people out before anyone turned up, but asked to get a lady out, stuck under a carriage, I said, ‘I can’t do it’. That felt terrible. Another was a lady black from head to toe lying on the tracks. I had to walk away.”
This earnest man says he knows his volunteering sounds “bizarre” given his experience and illness.
Tony, 67, says: “I respond very well in emergency situations. I attend head-on crashes, drownings, suicide, shootings. On one occasion someone wanted to be held while they died.”
He does this in Tasmania where they live for six months a year – the other six remaining in their bungalow near Wantage, Oxon. “I relive everything for five hours, reprocessing thoughts as I’ve been trained to do by a wonderful psychologist who helped with the PTSD. I feel more fulfilled now.”
This is the first time the couple has spoken publicly since their wedding.
They were heavily involved with the Survivors’ Group, and for 10 years attended the memorial site every anniversary. But then they withdrew to make the most of their life together.
The tragedy involved a Thames Trains service to Bedwyn, Wilts, tearing through a red signal and smashing into the First Great Western express from Cheltenham Spa, Glos, which the couple were on.
The inquiry that followed was critical of Thames Trains and Network Rail’s predecessor, Railtrack.
Tony says: “I’ve let the anger go. We were still alive and I had a life I wanted to live. Life is a God-given gift, you have to get the most out of it.”
Jan was on the way to her job at a pensions company on the day. She lost consciousness and came round to a scene “from a horror set” but was able to get out of the door.
Tony was in carriage E which tipped up in the air while H exploded. “First of all I thought I was going to get crushed to death, then when the fireball hit I thought I was going to burn to death, and when the smoke came I thought I was going to choke to death,” he says.
He explains basic rescue training he had been through during the threat of IRA bombings helped him save others.
Tony and Jan walked away with cuts and bruises, but the mental scars were inevitable. She tried to keep working after the crash but gave up, and the couple rely on their compensation.
Does Jan worry for Tony doing his paramedic work? No, is the answer. “You look after me and I look after you,” she says, turning to her husband.
Candles will be lit in memory of the 31 people who died in the tragedy on the 20th anniversary. A silence will be held at 8.10am at Ladbroke Grove followed by a service at St Helen's Church, North Kensington.
