Alan Rimmer - Between Heaven and Hell

The scientists worked out the Grapple X test had achieved the largest yield yet at 1.8 megatons and this had been brought about partly by a thermonuclear reaction. It was a tremendous relief. At last Britain could claim with some justification to be a nation with the H-bomb, albeit a prototype. The Prime Minister sent a letter of congratulation to the scientific team.

Flushed with success the Government spin went further than was strictly true. While the explosion had certainly been impressive, the new bomb still used huge quantities of Uranium 235 which made the combat use of the weapon impractical. And it still wasn’t the ‘pure’ thermonuclear bomb the politicians craved. Penney was summoned to another high-level meeting and another test was ordered. This time there were to be no half measures, nothing left to chance. The mixture had to be right; there were to be no mistakes. This could be the last chance Britain might have to join the top table. They wanted the world to sit up.

The euphoria back home was not reflected on Christmas Island. The troops complained, as they always do. But after Grapple X, there was a different edge to the grumbles. The men complained about everything: they received no extra hardship money; the tents they lived in were cramped; when it rained conditions inside them were atrocious. The latrines were disgusting and they preferred to dig holes in the coral dust rather than use the official lavatories. These were fairly normal complaints, but things were somehow different.

A lot of nuclear veterans have told of an indefinable sadness that came over them in the aftermath of the explosion. Some were affected more than others, but the deep melancholy was almost tangible. And for others it developed into something darker. Mutiny was in the air. There were more fights, drunkenness was rife, orders were disobeyed, discipline was laughed at, officers were ridiculed; Christmas Island was teetering on the edge of madness and anarchy.

Low morale and disorganisation eventually led to a complete breakdown of law and order. One night the NAAFI was destroyed in a mini-riot. A drunken naval rating ran amok in a bulldozer, destroying a huge tented area. Homosexual acts (a criminal offence at the time) were common. Men were drunk all the time; one grainy newsreel which surfaced years later, shows drunken servicemen staggering around the tents, wearing floral bonnets, Hawaiian shirts and painted faces. The men were out of control.

One of the most serious incidents erupted after a blizzard of “Dear John…” letters arrived from home where sensational newspaper articles had warned the men’s reproductive organs would be damaged by radiation. (A very prescient warning, as it turned out.) As the sacks of mail were delivered to the camps, sounds of grief and outrage filled the air.

In a letter home one of the men wrote: “It was awful to hear. Grown men crying! It was the last straw for them and they didn’t know what to do. They were trapped on the island and now their sweethearts were abandoning them. There was a big fight later. They took it out on each other.”

Many serious assaults were carried out at this time. Servicemen fought vicious battles with knives improvised from sharpened can-openers. There were reports of several gang rapes. The worst offenders were sent home via Changi prison in Singapore. The island did not have its own prison. A large steel cage, like a rubbish skip, cannibalised from a water distillation tank, was used as a temporary ‘brig’ for miscreants who were simply tipped in until they sobered up.

News of these events was hushed up, but a few managed to get through. Questions were asked in Parliament after a report of fighting on Christmas Island appeared in the Daily Mirror. But mostly the lid was kept tightly on.

Being just soldiers, no real account was taken of their concerns, but the scientists from AWRE were a different matter. These were civilians, not soldiers and therefore subject to different rules. The politicians, terrified that they might refuse to go to the island, ensured they were pandered to. The Aldermaston men were given better tented accommodation, ablutions, showers and latrines. A second-hand ice-cream making machine from a British base in Benghazi (cost $800) was sent out. A selection of gramophone records was also dispatched as well as ‘12 teapots and fifty knives to remedy the shortage of crockery and cutlery.’ The library was to have 250 extra books and the supply of newspapers was to be increased. A new projector and the latest films were supplied.

The scientists and other AWRE staff, though better looked after than the troops, were still not immune to depression. Some found the antidote to this was to ‘go native.’ They grew luxuriant beards and only ever wore shorts and boots which gave them a distinctive Ben Gun castaway image. But as long as they were doing the work, they were tolerated. Nothing was allowed to hinder them because they were irreplaceable, and their work wasn’t done yet.

The troops, however, could be replaced, and arrangements were rapidly being made to send the majority back home before there was any more trouble. Many men were convinced they were being sent home because of fears they may have been contaminated after Grapple X. Ken Taylor, an army cook said: “We had a fish and chip business going four days a week. At the Port Camp there were 800 people, about 200 portions per night. Fish were taken from various parts of the Pacific. We were told there was no danger of radiation, but there was at least one story of Geiger counters going berserk when placed near crayfish caught to the south of the island.”

The Ministry of Defence has always denied any radioactive contamination on Christmas Island. Nevertheless there was a sudden decision taken after Grapple X to replace thousands of troops. All over Britain servicemen were being assembled to replace them. But there was a problem. Despite the best efforts of the authorities, word about the appalling conditions on the island had reached the public, and there were increasingly lurid stories appearing about the possible effects the bomb tests were having on the men. To boost morale hundreds of RAF men were flown out, some on the new Comet jets, on what became known as the “champagne flights.” Stories were placed in newspapers about ordinary RAF men enjoying lavish hospitality as they were flown “first class to paradise”.

Soldiers, mainly royal engineers, and hundreds of conscripts were told to report to Southampton docks where they would board a ‘cruise ship’ that would take them to the South Pacific. They were advised to take ‘suntan lotion, swimming trunks and light footwear’, as they would be spending ‘many hours of leisure activity’ during their ‘sunshine posting.’

Even some of their wives were corralled into taking a ‘trip of a lifetime.’ Sadie Midford, aged 28 a mother-of-two from Canterbury was startled to receive a knock on her door from a senior officer in her husband Tony’s regiment. He asked her if she would like to go out and meet Tony on Christmas Island.

She recalled: “Of course I thought he was joking. But he wasn’t. He said it was all above board, but I would have to make my mind up quickly because the boat was leaving shortly. He said all it would cost was £25 for me and £12 for my eldest daughter; the baby went free. Well I dashed round to my mothers and she said, ‘go, we’ll get the money together.’”

Mrs Midford was told to report to Southampton on New Year’s Eve where she was to board the ship for her ‘sunshine cruise’ to the Pacific. Before that she was told to attend a medical with her two children at the nearby hospital. The family was given a clean bill of health and a blood sample was taken from each of them.