Britons Share Anguish of Waiting for News

Seconds after a plane crashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center, a telephone rang in Dundee, Scotland. Banker Derek Sword told his parents not to worry, that he was in the other building.

A call to Rosalind Bergemann in Peterborough, England, sent her running to the television. She saw that the aircraft had struck near the 82nd floor, where her fiance worked.

In Leeds, England, Norma Selwyn experienced a horrifying deja vu. Her son, Howard, had escaped the 1993 assault on the trade center, and now he was caught up in another one.

“He got away the first time. We hoped his experience would help him,” Selwyn said. “He’s still missing.”

Grief Engulfs British Cities

Like an earthquake sending tsunamis across the globe, a terror attack in Manhattan has sent waves of anguish crashing across the Atlantic to Britain. The grief that has wrenched New York and Washington has engulfed Dundee, Peterborough, Leeds and dozens of other cities where families are hanging on to fading hopes.

About 100 Britons have been confirmed dead in Tuesday’s attacks, and hundreds of other families are praying and grieving for relatives among the nearly 5,000 people listed as missing in New York.

The world was small for terrorists, but the ocean between Britain and the United States is wide. With airplanes grounded and airports closed for days, many families have been unable to get to the United States. Thousands of miles from the scene of carnage, they cannot search hospitals or distribute photographs of their loved ones. They cannot seek hands-on support from the ever-growing community of families seeking missing members.

All they can do is wait for news.

In Bath, England, the Rev. David Prothero is among those suffering the unbearable silence of children lost since Tuesday’s attacks. He first saw the burning building on television in a local shop and thought, “Oh, dear, what a terrible tragedy.” Suddenly, it dawned on him that the trade center was where his daughter, Sarah Redheffer, had gone to organize a conference.

Redheffer, 35, her boss, Michelle Duberry, and a publishing executive, Simon Turner, all from London, were holding a conference at the Windows on the World restaurant on the 106th floor of the north tower. They are missing along with about 130 other people who were to have attended the breakfast session.

“We feel helpless, of course, and we feel angry,” Prothero said. We know this is so much bigger than just us. The numbers of people involved is incomprehensible. But we feel our tears.”

Prothero, the rector of his local parish, has been surrounded by friends, flowers and offers of help, but his fight against bitterness sounds lonely next to U.S. and British vows of retaliation.

“Our only hope is that this tragedy brings people closer together rather than driving us apart. We have got to work for justice and peace in a way that makes this utterly impossible to happen again,” he said. “We hope that she will be one of those who is found and has been able to escape.”

From her home in Leeds, Selwyn sought solace in a nationally televised service at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. Queen Elizabeth II was there, dressed in black. So were Prime Minister Tony Blair and 10,000 other people, joined in prayer and singing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” “It makes you wonder if there is a God,” Selwyn said.

She is still clueless as to the fate of her son, a 47-year-old father of two.

A Futile Search for Information

In Sheffield, England, Norman Thompson also waits for news of his son Nigel. “The same as hundreds, thousands of people,” Thompson said.

Nigel Thompson, 33, was on the telephone to his twin brother, Neil, from the 105th floor of the north tower when the first jet struck. He told Neil that the building was being evacuated, and then the phone went dead.

Norman Thompson has heard nothing of his son since. His connection to other relatives of those lost in the debris of the trade center is through the Internet--global communication in a global tragedy. He is searching for information, but like so many others, he has had no luck.

“We are slowly beginning to realize that we’ve lost him,” the father said.

Derek Sword’s brother, David, has not come to the same conclusion in Dundee.

“We’re still waiting,” Sword said. “We’re still hoping.”