He still remembers it vividly.

“People say you get used to it over time. No you don’t,” he said.

“I drove the second vehicle in. The accident happened at 2.30am but I didn’t get into the coach itself until midday.

“Some people who were alive when we got there died while we were trying to free them.

“I was the one who handed the bodies out through the windows. I saw all their faces.

“We took the bodies to Frederickton, where we stored them in the cool room of the old cheese factory.”

Among unspeakable tragedies one story of incredible survival stands out for Mr Walkden.

“Clare Jones (who told her story to the Argus in 2007) was the last survivor we pulled out,” he said.

“We thought everyone was dead. We were just doing a quick check to make sure no-one else was alive when we heard her groan and then start to talk.

“She was so deeply buried we had to move six or seven bodies just to get to her.”

The psychological scars left by the accident remain even today.

“I recently caught a bus down to Canberra and it was the first time I’d been on a coach since the accident, I felt so nervous,” he said.

“Every time I go past the memorial garden even now I still get an eerie sort of feeling.”

Most people have a general idea of what happened on that dreadful day.

Just after 2am on December 22, 1989, two full tourist coaches collided head-on at Clybucca. The coaches concertinaed into each other, killing the drivers instantly.

The impact snapped seats from their anchor bolts and passengers were hurled about the vehicles with terrific force.

So great was the force of the crash it left the McCafferty’s Sydney-bound coach five rows into the cabin of the TransCity Brisbane-bound coach.

A NSW Coroner’s inquiry into the coach collision found the McCafferty driver fell asleep at the wheel.

The driver failed to negotiate a left-hand bend on the highway and the coach crossed to the wrong side and collided with the TransCity coach.