Plot to derail Queen's visit to Orange: Retired policeman reveals 39-year-old secret

ON the night of April 29, 1970, an event occurred on the rail corridor through Lithgow that had the potential to change the course of world history.

It was an incident on such a scale of international significance that an ironcast wall of secrecy was thrown up by Federal and State authorities when they responded to a curious media who had been 'hearing whispers' something was amiss.

When Det Sgt Cliff McHardy received a phone call that autumn night the implications were immediate; someone had made a serious attempt to derail the Royal Train that was conveying Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip to an official visit to Orange, due to be the only central western venue on that year's Royal Tour.

Long retired after 11 years in charge of Lithgow detectives and living in the Blue Mountains, Mr McHardy - who left the Force with the rank of detective superintendent - this week recounted his memories of the frantic investigations and bemoaned the fact that the culprit was 'one that got away'.

"It was one of the big regrets of my police service," Mr McHardy said.

On the night of the drama the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh were travelling on what was known as the Commissioner's Train.

It was an era before the arrival of sophisticated international terrorism and the security largely consisted of uniformed police who were ordered to man every railway station along the route and railway personnel on duty at every level crossing.

On board were members of the Royal entourage and federal and special branch police.

The schedule was for the train to spend the night under tighter security in a siding at Orange, ready for a two-and-a-half hour visit next day.

The train almost didn't make it.

As it passed at speed through a winding cutting at Bowenfels the locomotive struck a large log that had been placed across the tracks.

The train continued under brakes for about 200 metres with the log wedged under the front wheels before finally coming to a halt at the level crossing near Bowenfels station.

When Det Sgt McHardy and Detectives Barry Antill and Doug Bentley arrived they found the hardwood log had not splintered under the heavy impact and had deep indentations from the locomotive wheels.

But the locomotive had remained on track and largely unscathed.

The attempt to derail the train was no spur-of-the moment example of vandalism taken to the extreme.

Whoever was responsible had surveyed the area as marks indicated where the log had previously been resting at the top of the embankment in an area not often frequented by the public.

It had been rolled from there onto the tracks and manoeuvred into place, possibly by more than one person.

The offenders had also been aware of the time schedule for not only the Royal Train but a security 'sweeper' locomotive that had gone through a short time earlier to guard against just such an incident.

The obstruction was placed on the tracks sometime between the passing of the sweep and the arrival in the cutting of the train carrying the British Monarch and her husband to Orange.

THERE were numerous suspects and theories but the perpetrators of a 1970 attempt to derail the Queen's train were never found.

The April 29 incident caused a sensation in official circles and although numerous suspects were investigated there were no real clues.

Among those targeted were persons known to Australian intelligence as IRA sympathisers.

While the hunt for the culprit was underway Government officials were as much concerned about the embarrassment to Australia if the story leaked as they were with the incident itself.

Government gags were placed on the release of any information to the public.

"I was constantly reassuring my superiors that the local media would cooperate if we asked them to," Lithgow policeman Det Sgt Cliff McHardy, who was involved in the case, said.

"I told them that the editor of the Lithgow Mercury, Bede Leighton, was a man of total integrity who would abide by his word when told anything in confidence.

"They were used to dealing with the Sydney media and remained sceptical."

But the official suppression order worked and there was never a mention of the incident - until now.

This was even more surprising as most Lithgow railwaymen knew of the incident but went along with orders from their department to say nothing.

Mr McHardy said that the wall of secrecy actually worked against the police and seriously hampered the investigation.

"We never came up with any decent suspects because if we interviewed people we seemed to be talking in riddles. We couldn't disclose what our inquiries were about," he said.

The investigations included an inquiry into possible links with an earlier incident when detonators were placed in the path of the Royal Train as it approached Blackheath.

Such was the priority given to the derailment attempt at Bowenfels that the officer in charge of country detective operations for the then CIB, Det Inspector Maurice Kelly, came to Lithgow to take charge of investigations.

Detectives also had to send daily progress reports to the Government and to the CIB.

The remainder of the Royal visit to Orange went off without incident with thousands of people coming from across the region to greet and meet.

It is unknown whether the Queen was ever made aware of the furore left in her wake or the reason for that unscheduled stop at Bowenfels.

With the passing of the years this act of urban terrorism is well and truly a cold case - but there are few cold cases in regional NSW that provide such a level of deep intrigue.

Mr McHardy, who revisited the scene of the crime with the Lithgow Mercury in 2009, said that most of the high level Sydney police who came to Lithgow for the investigation were now deceased.

He said the case that literally derailed the Press if not the Royal Train will probably never be solved.

"Perhaps now that the story has gone public someone might come forward," he said with the true optimism of an old policeman.