2019 May 20 —–
It was still too early for the museums to be open so I went to Fort Needham Memorial Park to see the Halifax Explosion Memorial Bell Tower. It was still raining. I was taking a picture of a steel girder that had a lovely memorial blazoned through it when I met Wendell Brown walking his dog near the tower. He said good morning (as all seem to do) and immediately asked where I was from. Upon hearing I was from Alberta, he insisted on showing me all the nuances of the Explosion Memorial. A huge thank you!!
In a series of events that resulted in the perfect storm, one of the worst disasters in Canadian and world history began at about 8:45 AM on 6 December 1917. The Norwegian ship SS Imo collided with French cargo ship SS Mont-Blanc in the Narrows that connect Halifax Harbour to Bedford Basin. The Mont-Blanc was laden with high explosives that was destined to the war effort in France from New York via Halifax. Normally, munitions ships were not allowed in the harbour, however, with the fear of WWI German U-boats outside of the harbour, the exception was made. They could dock for the night in the protection of the harbour with the torpedo nets up. This idea of protection back-fired horribly.
Ships were to pass similar to cars on the road, on the right – port side to port side. Due to the heavy traffic in the harbour, the Imo was too far to the left and basically forced the Mont-Blanc to maneuver to the left, as well. But not in time. Although the ships collided at low speed, the impact was enough to damage barrels of benzol stored on deck of the Mont-Blanc. The leaking vapours were ignited by sparks from the collision, setting off a fire on board that quickly grew out of control. The initial small explosions drew curious crowds to their windows and waterfront. The crew abandoned ship, knowing it was hopeless to extinguish the fires.
At roughly 9:04 AM, 2925 tons of explosives aboard the Mont-Blanc detonated, releasing the equivalent energy of 2.9 kilotons of TNT (12,000 GJ) with temperatures of 5000 Celsius. The hull of the ship was blown 300 metres into the air. The shock wave smashed through the city at 5400 km/hr (3348 miles/hr). Nearly all of the structures within a half-mile radius of the blast were obliterated. The ensuing 18 metre (60 foot) tsunami wiped out the Mi’kmaq community that had lived in Tuffs Cove for generations. People near the shore were dragged into the churning harbour. A roiling cloud of hot gas rose high above the site.
Vapourized fuel and chemical by-products fell as rain, coating the area with a dark, oily film. White hot shards of melted metal also fell on the community. Fragments of the Mont-Blanc were later found several kilometres away. The furthest being one of Mont-Blanc’s guns, found 5.6 km (3.5 miles) away. The 131 metre (430 foot) Imo was washed ashore like a toy boat. It was the largest man-made explosion at that time and was the standard by which all large blasts were measured until Hiroshima would beat it with 15 kilotons.
As the burning Mont-Blanc drifted towards Halifax, one sailor hurried to the Richmond Railway Yards to alert the workers. Others fled, but train dispatcher, Vince Coleman, stayed behind to send a message to an approaching train. “Hold up the train. Ammunition ship afire in harbour making for Pier 6 and will explode. Guess this will be my last message. Good-bye boys.” This message was sent down the line, all the way to Boston, triggering relief efforts within two hours of the explosion. He was a true hero. There is a plaque in his honor on one side of the Memorial Bell Tower. Etched into a girder behind the plaque is his actual message, in — — .-. … . / -.-. — -.. . (Morse Code).
The next day saw one of the worst blizzards hit Halifax and impeded relief trains from across Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and the northeastern United States, most notably Boston. To this day, Halifax donates Boston’s Christmas Tree as a sign of gratitude.
2000 people were killed, one of every twenty-five. 9000 were injured, one of every five. One of every ten were left homeless. One in ten of the dead were military (Halifax was a major harbour during WWI). 1000 residents, one in 50, were left blinded or suffered serious eye damage from shattered glass and flying debris. Over 200 lost one or both eyes. More Nova Scotians were killed in the blast than on the war front.
The newly formed Canadian National Institute for the Blind became internationally known for educating people to function with their blindness. One man, Eric Davidson, went on to become an accomplished auto mechanic, despite being 100% blind.
The initial judicial inquiry found the Mont-Blanc at fault, but a later appeal determined that both vessels were to blame. (Personally, I think the Imo was to blame for being on the wrong side of the harbour and not yielding to the Mont-Blanc.)
Every person in Halifax was somehow affected by the disaster. The explosion was commemorated on the first anniversary, but proved to be incredibly traumatic for the surviving community. The second commemoration took place 50 years later, but after that they were stopped again. There was, and still is, a lot of controversy regarding this Memorial Tower, as pain of the disaster has still not healed for many Haligonians. Wendell told me that his aunt and uncle had been in their childhood home when the explosion occurred. They were unharmed, but walked out directly onto rubble, from their second storey window.
A story in the Maritime Museum read: Barbara Orr had been running down the slope of Mulgrave Park to have a closer look at the burning ship. Suddenly, the roar of the rife and the shouts were silenced. She stood still. Then a great wind seemed to sweep her off the ground. She rose and fell, soaring and swooping, twisting and turning as she went. Presently, the wind stopped and she found herself on solid earth again, but not in Mulgrave Park. She was over half a kilometre away, near the top of Fort Needham. Down where she had lived, she saw only a wall of smoke and flames. After a struggle, she reached the damaged home of her aunt, who at first did not recognize the blackened, limping figure. When questioned about her parents and five brothers and sisters, Barbara replied, “They are all gone.” She was correct.
There is a very wide paved path that leads up the hill to the Memorial Tower. The Tower faces the ground-zero area of the explosion. On either side of the paved path were rusty looking steel retaining girders, looking very much like remnants of the destroyed ship. Historical facts about both ships were etched into the metal girders, such as country of origin, length, and end fate.
Also along the girders were wooden benches, made with inter-spaced 2×4’s with the 4” side facing front. Etched onto the face of each board were more facts regarding the payload and dollar value of the cargo on the Mont-Blanc. I had to stand over the bench and look down into it to be able to see it all.
Further down the path were still more steel girders, looking like they simply landed in the grass. Etched onto them were facts about the number of people killed and injured.
There was another girder honouring the Mi’kmaq, who’s village was wiped out and all were killed.
Not part of the memorial, but standing nearby, was an electrical box with two pictures. One side of the box showed the city before the blast, the other side showed the same vantage point after the blast. Wendell pointed out all these little nuances to me. I probably would have missed most of them otherwise.
Before he carried on with his dog, he told me to walk down the steep cement steps toward the harbour, toward the site of the actual explosion. I thought that was an odd request, since there is a huge building that blocked the view and access to the harbour. He said that when I get to the bottom of the steps I was to turn around and look back up. He said his good-byes and left with his dog. I curiously went down the steps, all the while thinking this was such a waste of time because of the rain and wind. I turned and looked back up to the top of the stairs and initially saw nothing. It was only when I began climbing back up the steps did I notice that the cement on each riser was slightly different. I went back down to the bottom and looked up again. Each riser had been ingeniously etched with a partial letter to spell RICHMOND, the district of Halifax that was wiped out. It was only visible from the bottom.
This memorial was not just the huge Bell Tower. There were mini-memorials scattered about and hard to find (without guidance), just as the remains of the ship and city had been scattered about. The Halifax Explosion Memorial Bell Tower was dedicated in June 1985.
An Old Lady with a Backpack 