I have posted on The Burning Platform a story in the past about The Bath School Disaster. My Aunt and Uncle were survivors who were fortunate not to be on the side of the building that didn’t detonate. Years ago I read my Aunt’s personal account of that day in the book “The Bath School Disaster” by Monty J. Ellsworth. Only recently I found a copy of her essay online. I have read her essay numerous times over the years, it is one of the few personal accounts of this tragedy. She was fifteen years old and in the ninth grade the morning of the bombing.
By: Martha Hintz
THE school buses brought us to school at the usual time but not half as many pupils were there because they were exempt from their final examinations.
The day could not have been more beautiful with its spring freshness and a glorious sunshine which at once encouraged us to master our work, rejoicing and struggling with thoughts of despair.
Peals of childish laughter rang out as the little children ran outdoors with their playmates to romp and roam on and about the school yard before the bell of order rang. Little did their young minds, as the rest of ours, fancy their destiny was at hand. Ah, could they realize that perhaps in a half an hour they would rest in eternity with their playmates hearing the sweet songs of angels as they met them at the gates of Heaven.
The bell rang; boys and girls assembled and began their work more eagerly than ever to obtain the highest mark possible.
In the assembly room which I was in, our superintendent, Mr. Huyck, and Mr. Flory, manual training teacher, were giving examinations to one of their classes when at a quarter of ten a loud crash was heard, shaking the assembly and threatening it with the falling of plaster and lights overhead and raising us, a terror stricken group of pupils, out of our seats with violence. We began to run screaming and crying in the same breath, some running for the door while others made for the windows. Mr. Huyck called us together and ordered several of the older boys after a ladder, who were already on the roof with Mr. Flory and leaped a distance of fourteen feet to the ground. I was thankful that I saw my brother and knew he was safe.
We could see through the door of the assembly room where the blast had done its fatal work most. Yet, we could not imagine how this could have occurred.
Ladders had been secured and we were helped out of the windows by some bystanders and boys nearby. Mr. Huyck stayed until he saw everyone of us out safe.
From every direction we could see people coming, some running at their utmost speed, and others driving machines, both hoping and praying that their children or friends were not among the dead.
Men who had already gathered were clearing away the wreckage and pulling out one child after another. This was the most horrible spectacle one could ever witness, truly on the face of the earth, one could not have seen anything more piteous, or shameful than the scene which lay before our eyes.
One of our teachers who had been fortunate enough to escape from her classroom was with several other girls and I at the time of the second explosion. We were going toward the front of the building when it occurred and, thinking it was the school again, we ran from the place as fast as we possibly could. We knew not what had caused this, but bewildered yet from the first explosion and caring not only to get out in the open country where peace reigned, out and away from those heart-breaking scenes which burdened our minds. As we arrived at the oil station we saw a great fire toward the west, “What could it be?” we asked of one another and “Hark!” “What was that tinkling noise which became more distinct every moment?” “It’s the relief from Lansing, I’ll bet,” said one of our group. Truly, we rejoiced for a moment as we saw a line of cars and ambulances coming at full speed toward Bath.
We were picked up by a few of our friends and taken to a home nearby only to learn that the mother had lost her little daughter. We tried to comfort her but our efforts were all in vain, she only wept more bitterly with sorrow and moaned for her lost one.
Not until we were taken back to Bath did we hear what caused the disaster nor the death of Mr. Huyck and Miss Weatherby. It seemed unbelievable but was not the whole thing like a hideous dream?
Cars came, more and more, ambulances were loading and carrying away the injured, and lying covered up in a row upon the school yard lay they who moved no more.
As we gazed at the mournful picture, my brother came and said he was going home. I bid my friends good-bye who stood nearby and turned to my teacher and gave her a word of farewell and thus we parted.
As we made our way homeward the well-known passage came and lo, how true it was, “He will never forsake thee.”
