Israeli MD hero on bombed London tube By DANIEL CARRIER
Dr. Benny Meilik. Photo: Daniel Carrier
LONDON
Dr. Benny Meilik and his young family had finished their breakfast and were getting ready to explore London. It was the first time they had visited the city together and Bar, 17, and Rony, 12, couldn't wait to get out and see the sights they heard so much about.
In his work as an emergency surgeon and consultant at the Tel Aviv Medical Center, he has worked saving lives from terror attacks across Israel – and he wanted some peaceful, reflective time with his wife Libby, away from the trauma of treating victims of violence.
But on the first morning of his trip he found himself dragging victims free from the wreckage of the 8:51 a.m. Piccadilly Line eastbound train and working frantically to save their lives.
The family were staying in the Russell House Hotel, next door to the tube station.
When the bomb went off in the deep underground tunnel, visitors at the hotel felt the tremor and heard the rumbling bang that signalled London's worst-ever terrorist attack.
Meilik did not waste time, and his speedy response saved lives.
"I have heard enough explosions to know what they sound like, and when I heard the boom I sprung into action," he said later.
Leaving his wife and children at the hotel, which was evacuated moments later by the police, he dashed outside to find out what had happened.
"People were pointing at the tube station and I so I went in." he said. "There was carnage, smoke everywhere, and suddenly paramedics rushed in after me."
It was the start of a tough morning for the doctor, who has treated over 100 victims of the conflict in Israel and is used to seeing the sorts of injuries that greeted him on the platforms of Russell Square.
And, according to police, that was the most challenging site of the four bombs. The tunnel was in danger of collapse and is one of the deepest on the network, sitting 50 meters below ground.
Meilik told staff who he was and got down on to the platform, to which passengers were being led.
The bomb had caught the tube train between King's Cross and Russell Square, and rescuers had to get 500 meters along the track to help people. As paramedics brought victims out on to the station platform, he set to work stabilizing them, sifting those who could be helped and those who were clearly beyond his expertise.
"The injuries were severe. I must have treated around 20 people. I was just running from person to person, doing all I could. Many were not in good shape at all," Meilik said.
"I have worked on many, many victims of bomb attacks, and I can say: this is as bad as any I have seen. I have a lot of experience in treating blast victims and this bomb was powerful."
He set about working out who needed urgent care there on the platform and who could be moved to hospital. One victim, who had two broken arms, emerged to tell reporters he had been helped by an "Israeli hero."
The man, who would not give his name, said: "There was pandemonium. But the man who helped me was calm – and I can't thank him enough. He told me he was on holiday and had come to see if he could help. If you see him, thank him."
It was also the start of a traumatic morning for Meilik's family. His wife had watched him disappear into the heart of the explosion and was then told to leave the hotel with her family without him. She did not know her husband was safe and fighting to save lives.
"He just disappeared and then the police came and evacuated us. It was terrible," Libby recounted, adding, "Benny works saving lives each day – we did not expect him to have to use his skills when he was on holiday, but we are thankful he could be of help."
As the realization of the horrors that were waiting rescuers underground became apparent, the family grew more anxious for his safety.
While reporters gathered at the edge of a police cordon and medical staff rushing victims out to nearby Great Ormond Street Hospital, the Meilik family watched with growing horror at the scale of the tragedy.
Great Ormond Street, a children's hospital with no accident and emergency department, turned its staff canteen into an operating theater and Libby held her children close to her as victims, many burnt beyond recognition, were dragged through the eerily quiet streets on stretchers, trolleys, anything rescuers could find to get the victims into hospital as quickly as they could.
Below ground, her husband was working in searing heat that was reaching 45 degrees celsius and a tunnel just over three meters high, which was still clogged with acrid smoke.
"We did not know how he was or whether he was in danger," Meilik said. "Police were saying there could be another blast and that made us even more nervous."
And their ordeal got worse. They approached a police officer who was holding back crowds and asked if he could check whether Meilik was okay.
He returned later to tell them he could not be found.
Then, four hours after the attack, Meilik come out of the station to find his family waiting. Covered in soot, with a stethoscope around his neck, he walked forward, dazed by what he had seen, into their arms. They held each other and burst into tears.
Meilik, clutching his family close, said: "I have seen bomb attacks on many occasions – but this is as bad as anything I have seen on the streets of Tel Aviv."
