Travelling to a nuclear test site was for most servicemen the first time they had been abroad. This article explores veterans’ expectations of Australia and the Pacific, as well as what they knew of Britain’s nuclear programme.
Britain decided to develop its own nuclear arsenal after the United States enacted legislation in 1946 that banned atomic research and development with other countries. The McMahon Act in the US was a blow to Britain, which had been at the centre of the Manhattan Project that produced the world’s first atomic weapons towards the end of the Second World War. Several spy scandals involving British scientists, along with America’s desire for a nuclear monopoly, made it impossible for a while for Britain to (openly) work with the US.
Upon making the fateful decision to proceed with its own bomb in January 1947, Britain was faced with the problem of where to test these most dangerous weapons. After searching through its former colonies around the world, Britain chose to test in Australia, and later in the Pacific. The tests required a large military presence, predominantly British troops from all three fighting services. Australia contributed significant military personnel to the Australian-based tests as well. All but the most senior members of the military had little or no idea what was required of them until they were on their way to the various test sites. Most military personnel were young – in their early 20s – and a proportion of them were undertaking National Service. While for many it was a great adventure, with excitement often came trepidation – especially when the nature of their mission was revealed to them.
The British atomic tests were held at three sites in Australia: the Monte Bello Islands off the coast of Western Australia, and Emu Field and Maralinga on Anangu country in the South Australian desert. In the Pacific, the British test authorities settled on Malden Island, then later Christmas Island, now known as Kiritimati and part of the nation of Kiribati, after considering several other Pacific sites. In all cases, the tests caused significant harm and ongoing issues for Indigenous people of the areas affected, and more broadly for anyone in range of the fallout. In Australia, toxic clouds from explosions often travelled huge distances across the continent. Despite this the British and official Australian observers provided assurances that there was no risk to anyone.
Secrecy was a defining feature of nuclear weapons research and development. Pete Peters was tasked with collecting samples of radioactive debris from the American test series, Operation Castle. This operation included ‘Castle Bravo’, the largest nuclear detonation in American history. While the US was cautious about sharing data with Britain at the time, the performance of British Canberra aircraft at high altitude made them indispensable for American research. This was a cause of some embarrassment for the high-tech Americans.
In this clip the interviewer asks Pete Peters how much he knew about his mission in advance. The mission being discussed is Operation Bagpipes, a British operation on an American test series. The location was the Marshall Islands in the Pacific. Bagpipes was fraught with difficulties. Two of the British Canberra aircraft were lost in the vastness of the Pacific. Another crash-landed in Canada on the return flight to the UK, its radioactive cargo still on board.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Pete Peters was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2023. The interviewer was Christopher R Hill. The project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed at the British Library.
Were you fully aware of everything that you were doing, I mean, or did you have to wait to get to the Marshall Islands and you were briefed there, or did you know as you were setting off on this particular mission?
Well, there was so little for anybody to tell us, or teach us, because nobody knew damn all about it, or very little about it, apart from the nuclear physicists themselves. So basically, there was a little suck it and see. It’s a job, go and do it. So that’s what we did, that’s the way we approached it, to begin with. With some trepidation, yes, because it was new and unknown. Frightening? To a degree. Also a lot of curiosity in there. This was new, you know, not been done before. So there was a combination of feelings in it. Trepidation and anticipation.
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RAF servicemen collect radioactive samples from a Canberra aircraft. Photo © BNTVA Museum, used with permission.
Many nuclear test veterans only found out about what they would be doing once they had embarked on their journeys halfway around the world. In the following clip, Nick Kettlewell, an officer on HMS Diana,talks about the secrecy requirements of his work. The Official Secrets Act shocked most British troops into a lifetime of secrecy. Many have been reluctant to talk to their families or friends even decades after the event. As Kettlewell discovered, he was required to keep quiet and not reveal an iota of information to servicemen under his command.
Nick Kettlewell, a naval officer, explains how troops aboard the ship HMS Diana were informed of their upcoming participation in Operation Mosaic. Operation Mosaic comprised two nuclear tests in Australia. Although the troops learnt about their involvement in the test operation in advance, they did not know that their ship would be ordered to sail through the plumes of the explosions. HMS Diana was subsequently involved in a skirmish during the Suez Crisis.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Nick Kettlewell was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. The interviewer was Joshua A Bushen. This project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed as the British Library.
When I was appointed, and you’ll see the appointment in there, to the Diana, I had no idea, we were all sworn to secrecy. I don’t think the sailors were actually told what we were going to do. They must have guessed, because they were doing all these courses, and the dockyard was busy doing some serious work on the ship, I mean apart from, I didn’t mention, but there were various sensors round the ship for the scientists to actually read, get readings, and all this was obvious to the sailors because they were seeing it going on round them and being installed. But it wasn’t until we actually left Plymouth that we were allowed to brief the sailors properly about what we were really going to be doing. And then the doctor was put on the stand to tell them that they would all, they would not be made impotent.
[ends at 0:01:01]
HMS Diana, a daring-class destroyer that was ordered to sail through the clouds of nuclear detonations in Operation Mosaic in 1956. Photo by Tim Webb.
Civilian personnel were also subject to strict secrecy: none more so than the elite scientists whose professional knowledge took on geopolitical significance during the Cold War. For merchant seaman in the Royal Fleet Auxiliary (RFA), a civilian organisation, it came as a complete surprise when they discovered they would be involved in the British nuclear testing programme. Terry Hughes, a ship’s officer, describes this moment.
Terry Hughes recalls being informed that his Merchant Navy ship would be present for a nuclear weapon test at Operation Grapple. He describes the explosion, and mentions being given a dosimeter to carry in his pocket. A dosimeter is a small device that measures the amount of radiation it is exposed to, for example while being worn or carried.
Members of the Merchant Navy are not armed forces personnel, and it was unusual for them to be involved in nuclear testing in this way. Hughes remained in the Merchant Navy after this event and became a captain.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Terry Hughes was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans Project in 2024. The interviewer was Joshua A Bushen. This project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed at the British Library.
We wandered our way through the Panama, across the Pacific, and that’s when we found out we were going to Christmas Island. But in those days the Ministry of Defence had always sent the navy ships to Hawaii where they did the bombs. This time they decided to keep everybody there. And when we got there, we had what we call, they called them white crews in those days, they were British crews, they were tough nuts, they really were, and when they got there and found out they were doing the H-bomb we nearly had a mutiny on board. And the resident naval officer had to come out and chat to everybody saying it’s quite safe, nothing will happen, blah, blah, and all this sort of thing. Although we’re RFA and under the blue ensign, and flying by the MoD, we were primarily mostly navy civilians, that’s what we are. But the thinking at the time, they did this in Japan, why are they doing it now? You know. But the resident naval officer seemed to think, you know, try and encourage us to be trustworthy, and nothing will happen. And he gave us all these measurement metres, dosimeters I think they call them, which we put in our pockets, and we were all allocated certain jobs. And my job, I was sent down below at the time, to look after crew in case anything happened down there. I think it was by the engine room, I seem to remember. And we were all scattered around the ship doing our various jobs, and we had a countdown for this bomb, it was five, four, three, two, one, and I remember seeing a bit of a flash in the skylights, and I remember the bang, it was like standing next to a four-inch gun, actually, without earplugs.
Wow.
And like a miniature hurricane come rushing through, you heard it. The door, we had to keep the doors open, but you could feel this wind coming through. And afterwards you were allowed up on deck to see this mushroom cloud type cloud. We had, we weren’t allowed to take photographs, all the cameras were taken off us.
[ends at 0:01:48]
'G2', Operation Mosaic: the second, more powerful detonation through which HMS Diana sailed. The 1984-85 Royal Commission heard claims it far exceeded the agreed yield limit. Photo: HMSO.
In contrast to Peters, Kettlewell and Hughes, Roger Grace received a briefing about the task that lay ahead. Before setting sail from Plymouth, the ordinary seaman was shown an instructional film about Operation Hurricane. This film is now archived at the Imperial War Museum.
Roger Grace recalls being shown a film of the Operation Hurricane test before travelling to participate in Operation Mosaic in Australia. The majority of servicemen who travelled to test sites do not recall being shown instructional films such as this one. Many of them do not remember being told anything about where they were going or why.
Following his service, Grace became a police officer. In his interview he describes a training day about civil defence. After the instructor outlined the emergency protocol that should be followed in the event of a nuclear attack, Grace put his hand up and asked, ‘has anyone here actually seen a nuclear detonation?’ ‘No’, said the instructor, ‘I don’t think anyone has’. ‘Well, I have’, Grace retorted, ‘and the training provided here today would offer no protection or safety’.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Roger Grace was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. The interviewer was Joshua A Bushen. This project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed at the British Library.
Well, we were told, when I was first drafted to the ship to go to Australia, they didn’t tell us why, must have been November time, they took the whole ship’s crew into the cinema in Chatham and showed us a film of HMS Hurricane, and said, well that’s what you’re going to be doing. Okay, yeah, fair enough. [laughs]
So they showed you, so they sat you down, they actually showed you footage of the bomb, did they, from Hurricane?
Yeah. That’s what they showed us and said, well, that’s what you’re going to be doing, away you go, back on the ship. We left, we left Chatham, I think we did sea trials towards the end of November, beginning of December, we went down to Marchwood, which is the Royal Engineers depot at Southampton, and loaded up all the mechanics that we had to take, and the bomb. We did start off doing a little bit of the loading, but we weren’t efficient enough for the Royal Engineers and they loaded it, and we sailed on December – we had Christmas leave – and then sailed on December 29th.
[ends at 0:01:05]
The Hurricane detonation from a distance of 10 miles. Image cropped. Photo: HMSO. Public domain, via Wikipedia.
Nuclear explosions and radioactive fallout were not the only ‘unknown’ that test veterans encountered in Australia and the Pacific. The Indigenous communities they met and places they lived were also unknowns and perceived in relation to their ‘otherness’from the UK: alien people and environments that most servicemen knew little about. Even the selection of the test sites reflected colonial misunderstandings about the ecological intricacy of the Australian interior, the Monte Bello archipelago, or the coral atolls of Christmas and Malden. Colin Capon, a Royal Air Force (RAF) chef who later baked the cake for Queen Elizabeth II’s silver jubilee, describes trading with Indigenous people at Yalata, which sits on the traditional lands of the Wirangu. Yalata highlights the role of ‘nuclear colonialism’ in Australia, since the settlement was formed when Pila Nguru people were moved from Ooldea mission due to British tests. The Anangu people of the Western desert also experienced displacement, injury, illness and death as a result of the British atomic tests held on their land. Many were forcibly transported to Yalata or other settlements, thereby losing access to their traditional lands, food sources and sacred sites.
Colin Capon recalls meeting Indigenous peoples at Yalata near the Maralinga test site, where he served in the RAF as a trainee chef. The Yalata settlement had grown following the local evacuation of Ooldea mission, which was too close to the test site. Capon and many other servicemen often traded with Indigenous people, taking cultural artefacts such as boomerangs back with them to the UK. After meeting during Capon’s service in Cyprus, he and his wife later moved to Cape Town, South Africa, where he became a well-known celebrity chef.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Colin Capon was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. The interviewer was Fiona Bowler. This project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed at the British Library.
Once again, it was an adventure. We used to take, we used… because in the services you used to make great big urns of tea, and inside that tea container was like a great big metal thing that you put all the tea in. When we finished with that, we didn’t throw it away, we dried it, and then boxed it all up, and then when we went to these missions we used to take that with us and they used to make tea again with it, or something like that. But the, though the mission was there, it was, they lived outside in the bush, they were nomadic, basically, if we took, at one time I always remember taking a great big box of oranges. And oranges used to come in like a double-sided ply box, you know, and when we took them and gave all the kids things and everything like that, and we would be exchanging some of these things for boomerangs and woomeras and all these things that, you know, made in those days – I’ve still got some somewhere lying around.
[ends at 0:01:05]
British airmen with Indigenous people near Maralinga in February 1963, including RAF flight lieutenant David Purse. Photo © Steve Purse, used with permission.
The anthropologist Joseph Masco has described the ‘nuclear uncanny’ as ‘the material effects, psychic tension, and sensory confusion produced by nuclear weapons and radioactive materials’. For British veterans, this uncanniness stemmed not only from tests and radiation, but also from traces of home in such strange, unfamiliar environments. Home manifested itself in letters from loved ones, helplessly out of reach; in British beer cans and material comforts; in camp-based cinemas, cricket and football grounds. Ken McGinley describes one such uncanny moment on Christmas Island, when HMT Dunera brought the wives and children of servicemen on to the atoll to boost morale. Their visit took place not long after the detonation of Grapple X: Britain’s first successful hydrogen bomb.
Ken McGinley describes wives and children arriving on Christmas Island in 1958 on HMT Dunera. Having paid £25 for the privilege, they were brought over to the atoll with fresh troops to boost morale following the successful detonation of Grapple X. After a week of sightseeing, the 30 wives and 31 children set sail back to the UK with their fathers, who had completed their duration of service. Not long after returning home, the wives and children began to experience ill-health conditions. One mother reported how her six-month old daughter began to lose her hair. The family doctor could not identify the cause.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Ken McGinley was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. The interviewer was Christopher R. Hill. This project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed at the British Library.
What shocked me more than anything else was, all of a sudden, coming off the landing crafts, were children and women. White women and white children.
Oh, right. Coming on to Christmas Island?
Aye. From the ship, from the Dunera. Yeah. I says, what the hell’s going on here, I thought, what are they doing on the island, you know? These were the men who were on the island who were being relieved, and they were going back on the ship with their wives and children.
Why?
But, who in their right mind would send children and wives to an island that just had detonated a bomb, a hydrogen bomb, Grapple X, in November 1957.
So, when you’re arriving then, these women and children are getting off the boat, this is, how long did it take for the Dunera to get from the UK to Christmas Island?
Round about four weeks.
Right, so you’re there by the end of January, February?
We never saw these women and children because there were different decks, you see?
Yes, and that’s 1958, so only three bombs as part of the test operation, Operation Grapple, had been conducted so far, and that was one, two and three on Malden Island?
Yeah, the three tests that were conducted in Malden Island were allegedly hydrogen bombs, but they were false bombs, they were false, only largely 880,000-ton atomic bombs, you might say. But this was all done with the Americans, you know.
[ends at 0:01:52]
Wives and children from HMT Dunera are treated to a traditional dance on Christmas Island. Photo © Reach plc.
Being posted to Australia and the Pacific was a life-changing moment for British nuclear test veterans. As young men who had barely stepped out of their own countries, they would be thrust on to the remote frontiers of the nuclear age. In Australia and the Pacific, they would encounter people and places that were beyond the scope of their imagination and social experience. Perhaps for the first time, they would look their own mortality in the eye as they bore witness to the deadly force and effects of nuclear weapons.
The testimony featured in this article was recorded for ‘An Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans’, a collection of 41 life story interviews with nuclear test veterans. The interviews are archived at the British Library.
Dr Chris Hill is an Associate Professor in History at the University of South Wales. His research interests span the fields of environmental history, imperial history, and science and technology studies. His recent research, funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC), has explored the role of imperialism across the cycle of nuclear development in Britain, from uranium extraction in Namibia and South Africa to nuclear weapons tests in Australia and the Pacific. Chris is Principal Investigator for the Office for Veterans’ Affairs funded project: ‘An Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans’. His next book, Radiant Empire: Namibian Uranium and Nuclear Britain, is contracted to Stanford University Press.
Professor Elizabeth Tynan works at the James Cook University (JCU) Graduate Research School in Townsville, Australia. She teaches academic writing and critical thinking skills to PhD and master’s candidates, and undertakes research on the history of British atomic testing in Australia. Her book Atomic Thunder: The Maralinga Story (NewSouth, 2016), won the 2017 CHASS Australia Prize for a Book and the 2017 Prime Minister’s Literary Award (Australian History). Her next book, The Secret of Emu Field: Britain’s Forgotten Atomic Tests in Australia, which examines the atomic tests known as Operation Totem at Emu Field, came out in 2022. She is currently working on a new book on the British nuclear tests held at the Monte Bello Islands off the coast of Western Australia.
Header image: A map of Australia showing the Monte Bello Islands and Rowley Shoals in relation to Woomera Rocket Range. At one time it was considered likely that rockets with atomic warheads would be fired from Woomera towards the Monte Bellos. Map © BNTVA Museum, used with permission.
