The West Winford Incident

by John Parker

  The next stage of the investigation was to examine the fragments to check whether any unusual defects were present. In most cases the piece could be confidently discounted as the primary cause. Others were less obvious and so the piece had to be put aside for more detailed inspection. An additional task was to attempt to identify where a particular fragment had come from and to try to rebuild some of the main components as a giant jigsaw. It was all very time consuming and the man-hours were building up. Dave understood perfectly, as he didn’t know where his time went, there was just so much to do.

  *

  Time hung heavily for Sue, which she felt was ironic as she knew that she could not blame anybody but herself. She had been the instigator of the whole adventure. She reflected that as a young teenager she had been critical of the way many of the women she knew behaved. They were, for the most part, dedicated slaves and mothers. It annoyed her that their ambitions in life seemed to be limited to the traditional roles laid down by their mothers before them. She admired women that she’d read about who had not been prepared to settle for this mediocrity and had demonstrated that women could, and should, do more with their lives. She recalled the time immediately following her marriage when she had high hopes of moving away from the city and taking up a more meaningful career, whilst Dave found an equally fulfilling position. Her sister had married a nice steady boy in Pete, but he was so limited, so parochial. When she and Jenny were girls she had been the one who suggested joining the tennis club, belonging to a theatre group, spending the day at the Lickeys and so on. Her sister seemed to be happy to mooch around the house or hang about the local shops.

  Just stop it. Stop it now Susan Turner! Words so familiar in the mouths of her schoolteachers, now seemed to be fully justified in the present case. Only she was going to alter the situation. She had always intended to get herself sorted out once they had settled. The fact that Dave was now so busy, so rarely at home, and when he was he was so tired, had brought things to a head more quickly. Tomorrow she would act.

  *

  Dave was finally awoken by the insistent phone. It was six thirty-five. It was Mike Pearson, clearly excited.

  “Dave? Bit early I know, but can you get over here asap? We’re in the rig hall. Got something that will interest you.”

  “Er. Okay. I guess I’ll be half an hour.”

  “Come on, chop, chop. If you drive like Tony, you’ll make it in ten minutes.”

  Having shaken off the remnants of sleep, Dave was excited and intrigued. There were half a dozen already in the rig hall when he arrived. Mike, of course, with some of his Fracture Group colleagues, plus a couple of technicians, but most surprisingly, Tony Richards.

  The group was gathered around a large piece of metal. Although not badly distorted, the item was clearly a fractured piece of the Number 2 turbine from West Winford, as it displayed its characteristic debris identification, LP/1AE, in bold white paint. Dave was invited to examine this. Mike pointed out a feature on the fracture surface of, what he explained was, part of the LP turbine disc they had seen on site. He reminded Dave that at its centre was a hole which allowed the disc to be slid onto the turbine rotor. Along the length of the hole was a groove (a keyway) which enabled a steel key to be fitted to locate the disc precisely into position. Whilst most of the disc surface was covered with a smooth, black oxidised layer, the fracture was clean, bright metal. Mike pointed to a small, though distinct, patch of discolouration near one edge of this clean surface.

  “We think that’s it,” he enthused, “the cause of the failure. What do you reckon, Dave?”

  “I think that you can say that this discoloured area was present before the main fracture occurred. It comes from the keyway, so it’s likely that this was cracked to that depth before the whole thing disintegrated.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Mike. “If you remember, the main crack that we saw in this disc during our Winford visit started from the keyway. This section is just one side of that crack. The small piece that has been cut out is being prepared for the electron microscope. It contains part of the discoloured section. We called you in to take a butcher’s for us. I should think the vacuum level is OK by now.” Mike led the way to the electron microscope room. John Bolton, the main man when it came to electron microscopy, was seated at the consol. The room was dark with just a small desk-light on to indicate the control positions. John acknowledged Dave with a nod and shifted to his left to allow Dave to wheel up a seat beside him. The eerie, greenish, display screen glowed, showing the sample taken from the LP turbine disc at low magnification. The variation between the discoloured and bright area of the fracture was obvious. However, both showed a ‘crystalline’ surface even at this magnification.

  “I’ll bump it up a bit,” said John, turning up the magnification dial, and after refocusing, a clearer picture of the fracture surface emerged. The section visible at this higher level was from the brighter area of the surface and the crystalline nature of the fracture was obvious. This indicated that the fracture path had followed the grain (crystal) boundaries of the steel.

  “Certainly brittle,” said Dave, “I suppose that that would be expected from such a thick section of steel. It’s remarkably clean.”

  “What about the discoloured area?” asked Mike, leaning forward over Dave’s shoulder. John manipulated the specimen carriage until the discoloured area came into view.

  “Ah!” breathed Dave. “Interesting. You can see the discolouration is typical of an oxide coating, mainly iron and chromium oxides, I expect. The other thing of interest is that this part of the surface is also crystalline and so whatever caused it also went for the grain boundaries.”

  They returned to the main laboratory. Tony asked for Dave’s opinion and the others waited eagerly. Dave pointed out that, based upon this preliminary examination, there were some useful indications. As he had not examined any of the other, goodness knows how many, hundreds of pieces of debris from the turbine, he had to accept the judgement of those who had, that this portion of LP turbine disc was the site of the actual fracture which probably caused the turbine failure. Given that proviso, it looked as though a crack, which had formed in the keyway area of the disc bore, had extended during turbine operation – the discoloured part of the fracture – until it had become deep enough to cause the rest of the disc to fail – the bright part of the fracture. It was likely that the failure of just one disc of this size at operating speed, would account for the extensive consequential damage noted, including the break-up of other discs. The surprising thing was that the depth of the initiating crack, that is the discoloured part of the surface examined, was so tiny; he guessed that it was not more than an eighth of an inch. He sat back to await comments.

  “Wow!” exclaimed one of the technicians, “Are you saying that the bloody bomb site that we’ve spent the past couple of months picking through was all down to a sodding tiny crack of an eighth of an inch?”

  Before Dave could answer, Tony asked the more pertinent question of how the initiating crack, small though it seemed, got there. Mike responded. He had spent many years looking at fractures and he thought that this one was likely to be due to some form of environmentally assisted cracking. It certainly was not caused by simple overloading, and metal fatigue, another possible candidate for cracking under these circumstances, was different, as the path of the crack would be through the grains rather than around the grain boundaries. He looked to Dave, hoping to receive confirmation. Dave supplied this.

  “I agree with Mike. I would plump for stress corrosion myself. It may be significant that the failure occurred during a routine overspeed test, which is when the stresses on the disc would be greatest. Better get the views of others though.”

  “Naturally,” replied Tony. “I shall be onto the Technical Committee chairman shortly, but I wanted us to have an opinion, albeit only a preliminary one. I better let Sweety know first, he’ll be really chuffed. Good news at last.”

  *

&nb
sp; Having completed her essential chores, Sue just had to get out. A good walk would be the antidote for her mood. She set off and chose a route that would take her away from the lane and onto the Highwood Estate. The footpaths here were little used on weekdays, only the occasional jogger or dog walker. Just what Sue wanted, a couple of miles or so of quiet; time to think. She felt it ironic that she had been so anxious about how well the rest of the family would settle, but she had had no doubt about her own ability to cope. She had realised that the first couple of months would be taken up with getting the place just how she wanted, which she had more or less achieved. Her concern for Dave had proved unnecessary as, clearly, he was happy in the new job. Katy had also settled well. She had taken to rural life and made several friends. Even Jo seemed less of a problem than she had envisaged. Girls of her age were prone to be rebellious wherever they were and she didn’t think that Jo was unusually unsettled. As for herself? Well, she was surprised.

  The house was fine, as were most of the villagers, although some of the older residents did seem to require at least a forty year tenure before complete acceptance would be bestowed. Becoming involved in village activities as they came around, church fetes, summer fairs, and so on, would no doubt hasten their integration. This reminded Sue that she had volunteered herself and Dave to help at the school’s Christmas bazaar/concert. However, these events were few and far between, so just what else did they all do? The village seemed to be stuck in a time-warp, activities and attitudes remaining unchanged since the nineteenth century. Sue needed something more challenging intellectually. The younger mothers seemed to fill their days with routine jobs interspersed with taking and fetching their offspring from the village infants’ school. Maybe there were some women that she hadn’t yet met who were in a similar position to herself. She could only hope. She realised that she was spending more time alone than was good for her.

  She had to admit that it was wonderful countryside, some of the autumn colours determinedly hanging on. October had seen something of an Indian summer. Walks, such as these were fine, but it was the interaction with other people that she missed. She had been spoilt in that respect in Birmingham with her parents and her sister living locally. Being alone in the house all day was tiresome and this was made worse with Dave usually working late. She understood, he had to get on top of the job, but now this Winford thing had come along. What about her English Literature course work? She had been working through a correspondence course until a year ago. Perhaps she should look the stuff out.

  She came to a fork in the path; if she kept to the left it would wind back to her starting point at the lower end of the village. The path to the right took the shorter route to the lane and through the village itself. As she was tired, having kept up a brisk pace, she decided to take this route. The first building at this end of the village was the pub. She wondered? As she felt warm, having been sheltered from the wind for the last mile, a drink would be welcome. Why not? Inside, the bar was quiet.

  “Hello, Mrs Harrison,” greeted Sam, the landlord. “You’re very welcome and luckily we’ve still the odd seat vacant,” he said, extravagantly waving his arms around the virtually empty room. “What’s your pleasure?”

  “Thank you. Just a half of shandy please.”

  “Are you all settled in now?”

  “Pretty well and everyone’s been so kind.”

  “Aye, they’re not a bad lot, though they expect newcomers to conform to all their funny ways.”

  “Yeah! You soon found that out when they vetoed your plans for a brothel upstairs.”

  This wry comment came from a weather-beaten rustic perched upon a high stool at the far corner of the long bar.

  “You just ignore him, Mrs Harrison, he’s what you might call our local wag. When he’s finished his training he’ll be our fully-fledged village idiot.”

  “God Sam, make it a stiff one, I’m knackered.” This request was made from the doorway by a smartly dressed woman.

  *

  Dave heard animated chatter coming from the Fracture Group’s office next door.

  “You have a look then if you don’t believe me.”

  “You’re having us on? What, really? Old Honey Bear?”

  “Yep. Just like I say, bright yellow.”

  “What’s all the excitement?” asked Dave, moving into the room where half a dozen were gathered. “It’s not difficult to see that the Winford work is more or less sorted, with you lot having a mothers’ meeting.”

  “Well, according to our section newshound here,” said Gritty, indicating Geoff, “old Sweety’s up to something. He’s dressed up to the nines and all topped off with a yellow bow tie.”

  “Saw him in the bogs, combing his hair. He looks like an auctioneer or an artist,” chuckled Geoff.

  “More like a bookie’s runner, I’d have thought,” suggested Gritty.

  On further inquiry Geoff’s rumour was confirmed. It seemed that although Sweety was anxious to keep out of sight, spending the best part of the morning beavering away in his office, the odd trip to the lavatory had been unavoidable, in fact more so than usual. No reason for the upgraded sartorial elegance of Dr Alan Honey could be gleaned from enquiries made to the prim Mrs Murray, his secretary, who reminded her interlocutor that her job title was Confidential Secretary. This being so, Geoff was pressed into service in his dual role as department socialiser and part time womaniser, to elicit information from his lady friends in the typing pool. He did not disappoint. The whole story tumbled from Janet’s lips at the mere suggestion of Geoff’s irresistible smile. Although Janet was the office new girl, she had already been fully assessed by the chaps during their lively debates in the smoke-filled mess room and was now top of their poll as ‘the girl they would most like to give one to’. A dubious honour indeed.

  It seemed that Sweety had been delegated to face the press on the Authority’s behalf. The media interest in West Winford, which seemed to have diminished since the first week following the failure, had, it appeared, been rekindled. A cynic might feel that the timing of this, with the likelihood of a general election only months away, may not be entirely coincidental.

  During the afternoon a memo was circulated to all staff informing them that, in response to a request from the press, the Authority felt that this was an appropriate time to provide an update on the significant progress made on the West Winford Turbine Failure Inquiry. It had agreed that Dr Alan Honey (Head of Scientific Services Department) would be made available. Staff will be interested to learn that Dr Honey’s report will be covered by BBC Television News and screened by the local ‘Points West’ evening programme.

  “Blimey! That should cause a power surge around Devizes,” said Gritty to a full mess room at afternoon tea.

  “Yeah!” agreed Geoff, “When everyone rushes away to make their supper. Mind you, he can count on me to watch.”

  Dave arrived home to find Sue in a more cheerful mood than recently and he later learned of her outing. Both girls also seemed to be in harmonious mode as they sat watching television side by side on the sofa – not unprecedented, but certainly a rare occurrence.

  “Hi! Kids, I hope that this doesn’t go on much longer as there’s a real treat on the local news shortly.”

  “Hi Dad!” was the unhelpful response.

  The programme began with the opening montage of West Country activities. Then the predictable images of local landmarks faded, giving way to a brief summary of the programme contents. There was another demonstration of sibling unity, as with a synchronised exclamation of ‘boring’, Jo and young Katy left the room.

  It was towards the end of the programme before the West Winford topic was addressed. The camera panned across to the far side of the studio where the lead presenter sat facing a barely recognisable, Sweety. Geoff had been right. A regular swell. He looked the part, the hint of the scientist cloaked in a senior manager’s persona. The camera moved into closer focus.

  Presenter: “Thank you fo
r agreeing to this interview, which is of great public interest.”

  Sweety: “Not at all. We in the Strategic Supplies Authority accept that we are ultimately responsible to the electorate.”

  Presenter: “Would you agree that the West Winford failure is both costly and raises doubts about the safety of the plant?”

  Sweety: “We accept the seriousness of the failure and have taken steps to prevent a recurrence.”

  Presenter: “What the public is concerned about is that such a thing could happen at, let’s face it, a modern power station for which you, the SSA are responsible. Isn’t it the case that inexperience is a factor?”

  Sweety: “Yes, the plant is modern, but no, it is nothing to do with inexperience, as with all our acquired assets, we have, wherever possible, retained the previous management and operators.”

  Presenter: “But surely you must admit that, to the public, it appears that standards have slipped during your tenure?”

  Sweety: “The public can be assured that we are working to exactly the same standards and safety codes as the utilities did and still do.”

  Presenter: “But, with respect, there must be some reason why it happened?”

  Sweety: “Clearly – and that is why we have mounted this huge investigation. The utilities could certainly not have undertaken a task such as this so comprehensively.”

  Presenter: “The public are asking how safe are the other turbines at West Winford and indeed elsewhere. It is particularly worrying that this is, after all, a nuclear installation that aroused strong opposition to its construction right from its inception.”

  Sweety: “May I say that the question of the nuclear issue and its irrelevance has been dealt with on numerous occasions and it is quite inappropriate for you to raise unnecessary worries. As to your other point, I repeat that we are looking into all these aspects and lessons will be learned.”