A great explosion occurred at a munitions factory in the East End on Friday evening. Four large industrial works and several smaller ones were destroyed, and rows of small houses demolished. The work of extricating the dead has not been completed, and owing to the difficulty of this work no final casualty list can yet be given. It was estimated last night that the death roll would reach 100 and that the number of the injured would be not less than 400.
The steadiest nerves were not proof against the shock which convulsed all London and vibrated through the four adjoining counties shortly before 7 on Friday evening. For some seconds the whole arc of the heavens was overspread by a brilliant light. After a few tense moments came the report for which, half-consciously, one had been waiting, like a single clap of thunder; then the glow died out of the sky.
Though the great light which irradiated half London had gone, there came into view a dull red reflection low in the sky. Behind the masts and spars of ships in dock stood a cluster of blazing buildings, from which rose huge forked tongues of flame. The explosion had its centre in a chemical factory. So far as can be discovered a fire broke out in an upper floor of that part of the factory which is devoted to high explosive. A survivor who was in another part of the works said yesterday to a representative of The Times “There were not more than 40 people on the premises, the day shift having gone. I was at work in the office when I heard women shrieking. I came down to the door and saw the high explosive building afire. Somehow I got away without a scratch, though others running along the road were knocked down beside me by flying missiles.”
The most appalling effects of the explosion were felt in half a dozen streets of neat working-class houses opposite the chemical factory. Roofs and walls were blown away, floors collapsed, and homes in which their owners had obviously taken pride became in an instant hideous piles of wreckage. Among the ruins men, women, and children were buried.
The firemen, the policemen, and volunteers did what they could, but it was all too little. There was little moaning or lamentation, either among the homeless or the injured. The shock had stunned them all.