Report: The Site of the 1998 ICE-Derailment at Eschede (Germany) in 2022

A bit of a different post than usual, but I thought it might be interesting still, and was fitting to post since today marks the 25th Anniversary of the tragedy.

Short Summary of the Accident

On June 3rd 1998 Intercity Express 884 from Munich to Hamburg suffered a catastrophic failure of a wheel while travelling at 200kph/124mph just 92km/52mi south of its destination with 293 people on board. The steel tire breaking off the wheel ripped up part of a set of points, causing the train’s 3rd car to derail at speed. The derailing car took out the supports of a small road-overpass, which came down on cars 5 and 6. The remaining cars ran into the wreckage in a motion likened to a folding ruler. 101 people lost their lives, 70 were severely injured. The accident was the first article on this blog, the (admittedly by today’s standard slightly rough) article can be found here:

The Cost of Comfort: The 1998 Eschede Train Derailment

My Visit to Eschede

In 2022 I happened to have the chance to visit the town of Eschede in northern Germany, the site of what is considered Germany’s worst rail accident. Over 20 years onward the town (population: 5739 people as of 2019) is still linked to the accident in the public conscience, although more and more people, often simply by being born well after it happened, don’t know about the accident.

Driving into the town has a bit off an odd feeling in my opinion, maybe because I’m among those who know what happened there. At some point you spot small signs directing you to the memorial, taking you through residential streets and finally across the new overpass at the site. The new overpass has no trackside supports, taking away a significant puzzle-piece of the accident.

(Apologies for the poor quality of the cellphone pictures, I felt like waving a big camera around would be inappropriate)

A narrow and steep staircase runs down the embankment to the west of the rail line, just north of the overpass. 101 cherry trees, 1 for each victim, surround a large granite wall listing all the victims’ names, hometowns and year of births.

Looking from the overpass towards the memorial.

Reading the names on the wall gives an idea of the scale of the tragedy, with a harsh sting of sadness whenever one finds one of the names whose birth year begins with 199_

The granite wall at the center of the memorial, I didn’t dare sit down on the benches.

An excerpt from the list of victims.

Going back up the stairs one walks through a large granite door frame, engraved with the date of the accident (see top image). A small set of granite steps continues on the other side of the road, intended to symbolize an ascend into heaven.

Looking at the rail line from the overpass, facing south (where the train came from) one can still spot a set of points roughly where one threw the train’s third car into the overpass’ supports on the day of the accident.

Looking south off the overpass, the train involved in the accident used the center track and was derailed to the left (from the perspective of the camera).

Adjacent to the rail line, right behind a noise protection wall, stands the house of the Karl-family, in 1998 the home of Miss Karl. The building was narrowly missed by the derailing train, making her one of the first outside responders at the site. I believe it’s basic decency that visitors to the site today don’t get close to/bother the residents. It’s the general “status” in the town, everyone is aware of why their town is famous and what happened, but they don’t want to be reduced to “that place where the ICE crashed”.

Miss Karl’s house on the day of the accident (left) and in 2022 (right).

During my visit construction work was going on at the rail line, slowing passing trains to a crawl, I can’t help but wonder if it’s sometimes difficult for those living right by the rail line to hear trains speeding past.

A modern fourth-generation ICE crawls past the site during my visit.

I only stuck around for a few minutes, not just because of the heavy air of sadness still present at the site, but also, as an outsider to both the town and the event, I did feel like I was overstaying my welcome to begin with.

Looking north from the overpass, the leading motor car tore lose from the derailing car and only stopped beyond Eschede station, which is not even visible from the overpass.

While I’m writing this an official memorial service is being held at Eschede, and the accident is back in the news and on tv. Chances are, if you ask a random German about what they think of when they hear “Eschede”, they will still say “the ICE-crash”. The accident was so big, so significant in post-war German history and in the world of railroad technology, it will likely never separate from the town’s image. But it’s worth to note the positive developments since. The three-part wheel which caused the accident was quickly removed from service, overpasses avoid trackside supports, and psychological support for responders has become far more widespread than it used to be before the accident. In a recent TV-piece a resident also said that, in a way, the accident brought the town together, with everyone working together to support the rescue effort, from making coffee to offering accommodation to trying to help at the site itself.

A final look through the door frame at the cherry trees.

Thank you for reading. The blog will return to the regular content tomorrow.