In the News

EVANSVILLE, Ind -- Rep. Larry Bucshon didn't see the Wednesday morning collision between an Amtrak train packed with members of Congress and a truck.

He heard it. And felt it.

"We heard a loud bang. It was clear that something had happened. Either we had struck something or -- you know, you never know what’s happening because of security-type related issues," Bucshon said several hours after the collision that killed one man in the truck and seriously injured another.

"The whole train kind of lurched forward and threw people," the 8th District congressman said.

Bucshon was among Republican House members and senators who were headed to a legislative retreat in West Virginia when their train hit the truck on the track in Crozet, Virginia at 10:20 a.m. His wife, anesthesiologist Kathryn Bucshon, was accompanying him. Spouses of some of the politicians, their children and congressional aides also were aboard.

The precise moment of the collision -- and Kathryn Bucshon's frantic but unsuccessful attempts to help one of the victims -- are etched in Larry Bucshon's mind.

"The train came to a quick braking stop. It stopped fast enough that there was kind of smoke from the brakes. Even in the train, there was just a really fine smoke," Bucshon said Wednesday afternoon from a bus taking the congressional party the remaining 90 miles to West Virginia.

The Bucshons were seated a couple cars back from the engine. In the momentary lull before all hell broke loose, Larry Bucshon looked out his window and backward. He saw the truck's trash container off to the side. Trash was scattered everywhere.

It took only a second for people to start jumping to their feet and running.

"People were saying, 'We need doctors,'" said Bucshon, a former heart surgeon.

Among the House and Senate members aboard were several other physicians who were closer to the back of the train. They -- and the Bucshons -- rushed out to help.

In the mud, the noise and the tumult, they found death. It was obvious one of the truck's passengers was dead -- but another man clung to life.

Kathryn Bucshon sprung into action, the congressman said. He assisted her.

"She was trying to get a breathing tube into the one that was still alive," he said.

But the man's facial injuries were too severe. Blood was everywhere. Other members of Congress who are doctors were monitoring the survivor's pulse, but there was little anyone could do.

"You have to see the setting. We’re out on the side of the road, he’s laying on the ground, it’s muddy, she’s down on her knee, and there’s a lot of blood coming out of his nose and his mouth," Larry Bucshon said. "It was very difficult. She’s an anesthesiologist, she does this every day, but she gave it her best shot.

"She couldn’t see very well, didn’t have any suction to suck out the blood, and was just not able to do that."

Emergency medical technicians arrived, loaded the victim onto a stretcher and took him to a nearby trauma center.

Bucshon was photographed at the scene watching and standing close by as rescue workers attended to someone. The truck appeared to be overturned.

Authorities ultimately confirmed that three people were in the truck, including the man who was killed.

Amtrak said that no one on the train suffered more than minor injuries.

The crossing at the intersection of Marymart Farm Road and Lanetown Road in Crozet is an “active crossing” with gates, flashing lights and a warning sign, according to the Washington Post. Crozet is about 110 miles southwest of Washington. Bucshon said the crash occurred about 15 miles south of Charlottesville, Virginia.

The congressional delegation, their families and aides were headed to a retreat at The Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, scheduled to begin Wednesday and end Friday. Vice President Mike Pence, who was not on the train, was set to speak to the group Wednesday.  President Donald Trump is set to speak Thursday.

Larry Bucshon's father was an underground coal miner and his mother a nurse. As a heart surgeon, he performed hundreds of procedures, literally holding patients' lives in his hands.

He has seen death and suffering -- but he said he had never come this close to being harmed himself.

"We are praying for the man who was still alive," Bucshon said.

Evansville Courier & Press