This article explores the lifelong impact of being a nuclear test veteran. How has test participation affected veterans’ life choices in the aftermath and their feelings about nuclear weapons?
From 1952 to 1962 the United Kingdom tested atomic and thermonuclear weapons over Australian and Pacific Island territories. These tests included blasts that were hundreds of times more powerful than the bombs that were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Witnessing the large-scale violence of these explosions has left deep impressions on the veterans that have stayed with them their whole lives.
The audio clips in this article demonstrate the different ways that nuclear weapons have brought uncertainty and vulnerability into the test veterans’ lives. This includes concerns about the lasting health impacts of the tests on them and their families. Veterans also have concerns about the broader legacy of their role in the British nuclear weapons programme.
These extracts are taken from life story interviews collected for ‘An Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans’, a project funded by the Office for Veterans’ Affairs. The interviews were conducted by researchers from the University of South Wales and the University of Liverpool.
Test veterans witnessed something that very few people have ever seen: a nuclear explosion. In the evocative audio clip below, Gordon Coggon explains how the experience of seeing the blast and the possibility of seeing it again scares him to this day. Coggon worked on fishing trawlers and drilling rigs before joining the Royal Air Force (RAF) on National Service.He has dreamt over the years since of being lost in a ‘fiery fog’.
Gordon Coggon discusses how his experiences at nuclear test sites have stuck with him and the nightmares he has had. While on Christmas Island, he suffered with heart problems and since returning home has faced other issues. His family have also possibly been affected, and these experiences have left Coggon with significant anxiety around his health.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Gordon Coggon was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. The interviewer was Jonathan Hogg. The project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed at the British Library.
It’s something you’re never ever going to forget, no matter how long you live, I’d never want to see it again, ever. It frightens me just thinking about it. In fact, sometimes I wake up, my wife, it frightens her, because when I wake up in the half-stupor, I’m screaming and saying ‘I’m lost, I’m lost, I’m lost’. And she’s saying, ‘Where are you lost?’ and I’m saying, ‘I’m lost in the fog, I’m lost in the fog’. And I can’t get it out of my head that I’m lost in this fiery fog. Still, to this day I have the odd dream. Not so often now, but it was at one stage quite often.
[ends at 0:00:53]
Halliard, a megaton blast and the second test in the Grapple Z series. Photo © 1958, UK Government Open Licence, used with permission.
For Derek Woolf, what he calls the ‘weird’ experience of seeing the detonation of a hydrogen bomb is something he has rarely spoken about over subsequent years. Woolf worked as a medical assistant on Christmas Island.
While talking about health problems suffered by nuclear test veterans, Derek Woolf refers to himself as ‘one of the lucky ones’. This is a common feeling expressed by veterans but Woolf feels this more strongly than most. Due to his position as a medic who treated people on the island he saw the acute mental and physical effects of the tests more directly.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Derek Woolf was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. 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.
How did you feel when you got back? I mean did you reflect much on the experience as it being an unusual experience, going to Christmas?
Well, I should think, as I said in my letter to the Birmingham Post, as one of the tiny minority of the population that has ever seen the explosion of and detonation of a hydrogen bomb, yes, it was a very weird experience. But funnily enough, not something that I ever spoke about very much. I mean people knew I’d been on Christmas Island but it’s only really attracted all the attention in recent years because of the claims by people that appear to have suffered from their service. We’ve discussed the medical problems, and having reached eighty-five, I guess I’m one of the lucky ones. And what few medical issues I have pale into insignificance when I consider the problems that so many of the other veterans, or their dependants have suffered. I suspect that’s why I got a little emotional earlier in the interview, it’s just the thought that a lot of good men have died without ever knowing that they have been, their service has been recognised with this medal that was given out.
[ends at 0:01:09]
Two Christmas Island medics reunited after over 65 years: David Swann and Derek Woolf in 2024. Photo © Derek Woolf, used with permission.
The nuclear explosions that these veterans saw were extraordinary events. Their suggestive and unusual word choices of ‘weird’ and ‘fiery fog’ reflect a long-standing challenge for anyone who has tried to communicate the extreme power and potential violence of a nuclear explosion. How can you explain in words something that is so far beyond normal experience? The idea of nuclear weapons use has often been instead labelled as ‘unthinkable’ and its impacts as ‘unspeakable’. In the decades since the tests, however, these veterans have dealt with the challenges of both thinking and speaking about their past nuclear experiences.
In the clip below, John Morris, who joined the Army through National Service, reflects on his part in creating the UK’s nuclear weapons. This clip highlights the complex and often contradictory feelings that nuclear weapons can bring about in people and societies. Making a nuclear weapon might be a sign of collective effort and accomplishment. At the same time the ethical consequences of that work can weigh heavily on the people who took part. Morris describes his complicated feelings about the tests, which many veterans share. These feelings include pride in themselves and their military role, but also moral concerns about creating what Morris describes vividly as a ‘monster’.
John Morris describes his feelings on playing a part in the creation of the British nuclear deterrent. After participating in Operation Grapple, Morris and his family have suffered significant health complications. Due to this, he has become a strong advocate for compensation of veterans and nuclear disarmament.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. John Morris was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. The interviewer was Jonathan Hogg. The project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed at the British Library.
My desire over sixty-three years to get recognition for the veteran, for what we did for this country, we made this country a nuclear power. I regret many times being involved in it. I created or helped to create a monster, and it does weigh heavily, what the monster that I’ve helped make. And it’s, it makes me sad sometimes that somebody could throw one of those bombs, and trust me, you haven’t got a cat in hell’s chance. You might as well give up, because it’ll completely destroy you. And it’s had a profound effect on some of my thoughts. And you do get flashbacks, you do, you do get… you look at your grandchildren, you think, I hope some bugger doesn’t start throwing one of these about, because they’ve no chance.
[ends at 0:01:14]
John Morris at work on Christmas Island. Photo © John Morris, used with permission.
For Morris, his past makes him think differently about the future and, in particular, his family’s future. For Frank Bools, being on Christmas Island for the nuclear tests changed his life completely. Bools was an Army field engineer who helped construct Christmas Island’s main base camp for Operation Grapple. He chose to leave the Army soon afterwards.
Frank Bools describes how his service on Christmas Island led him to the decision to leave the Army. Other veterans have come to similar decisions due to their experiences. Following his exit from the Army, Bools moved to Leeds with his wife and began a successful career in the construction industry.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Frank Bools was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. 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.
For better or worse it was Christmas Island that persuaded me, or me and my wife, that I would seek another occupation, leave the army. But when I think back now about what could have been if I’d have stayed in the army, it’s like, I’d read a poem – I like poetry – and there’s a poem called The Road Not Taken, and I often read that poem and think the road not taken was staying in the army and Christmas Island was the kind of catalyst that changed my… I fully intended being a regular soldier. So from that point of view, I used the Christmas Island experiences in my life afterwards working for the construction industry. I’m quite passionate about the construction industry and about buildings. I’m interested in architecture and methods of building, and I see how changes have occurred due to the regulations on thermal insulation and sound insulation and I think a lot of that matured in my mind while I was building on Christmas Island, stuff working there and thinking about methods of working then and what it’s like now. It certainly was a big stepping stone in my life.
[ends at 0:01:53]
Frank Bools during military training. Photo © Frank Bools, used with permission.
Countries involved in nuclear weapons development restrict access to information to keep the details of their weapons programmes secret: both from the public and from other states. This secrecy has meant that there were people who worked on weapons development and testing without knowing exactly that they were contributing. Some, for example cleaning staff in scientific facilities, often had no idea of the research happening at their place of work.
Others, such as these nuclear test veterans, had partial and limited knowledge about what they were doing. In the next clip Brian Tomlinson reflects on the lack of information available to him during the tests and how that exclusion still bothers him to this day. This extract also highlights the intense contrasts of working on the UK nuclear tests. While veterans had the extraordinary experience of seeing nuclear tests, much of their time was spent completing dull, everyday tasks. Tomlinson was stationed at Maralinga during Operation Buffalo in 1956.
Brian Tomlinson wishes that he had more information about the jobs he was doing at Maralinga. While at Maralinga, he was tasked with the particularly dangerous job of walking towards one of the bomb craters until a Geiger counter he was holding reached a certain agreed upon level.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Brian Tomlinson was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. 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.
It was an experience that I hadn’t, well, I’ll never, hopefully, never see again really, because it was something new, Britain didn’t really know what the outcome was going to be on the testing of some of these devices, so it was a kind of a, bit of a challenge. I only wish that we had more information about what we had to do, because we weren’t. Someone would say, right, you dig a hole, four foot square, and you dig a hole four foot square, and what’s it for? Oh, some instrument. That’s all we know. And this is what you used to get, just stupid answers. You’re not here to ask questions, you do what we told you to do, and so you can get no further, no one’d commit themselves. The scientists, they didn’t tell you anything. In fact, they hardly ever spoke to you. So, you were doing things by what the army said, or what was really down to whoever was in charge of our lot, to tell us, go and do this, go and do that, and that’s what it happened to be. Every day was the same. You used to get the weekend off, or Sunday, sometimes Saturday, it just depends how they felt. But most of the time, free time, there was nothing to do, I mean they only had the cinema, you couldn’t go there every day, they didn’t want to run a truck all the way down and then run it back for just to, see there, you’d go once or twice a week. But they had a big swimming pool there. But, thinking back, it does come to you now and again, you think back, back of your mind something’s irritating you, and it’s there until you try and get rid of it.
[ends at 0:01:54]
Biak, the second of the three tests during Operation Antler. The smoky lines are formed by tracer rockets. Photo: HMSO. Public domain, via the BNTVA Museum.
The lack of information for those on the ground has led to uncertainty about the long-term health impacts of their work. In the clip below RAF pilot Terry Hilliard expresses the uncertainties he feels due to decades of government secrecy. Hilliard flew a plane through a radioactive mushroom cloud during the Grapple Z tests.
Terry Hilliard reflects on the possible health effects of being involved in the nuclear testing programme. Because the test programme was top secret, many veterans remain uncertain about the levels of radiation servicemen were exposed to.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Terry Hilliard was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. The interviewer was Fiona Bowler. The project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed at the British Library.
Several of the other Grapple people have also, their descendants have given birth to disformed children. So for what it’s worth, I’m not saying it was us, I don’t think it was us, but it could just be another coincidence, I don’t know. But these are the sort of after things you find out now, and we’re talking about, what, sixty, seventy years ago? It’s all been kept, and still it’s secret.
[ends at 0:00:28]
Joyene Ross and Lorraine Roone from Onslow, Western Australia, watch the detonation of the first British atomic bomb whilst on the beach. Photo: public domain, via State Library Western Australia.
Veteran testimony also reveals differences in status between scientists, military leaders and the veterans regarding access to information and access to practical health and safety measures. One such difference is evident here as Hilliard describes watching an Atomic Weapons Research Establishment (AWRE) film in which a soldier picks up debris from the nuclear test with his bare hands.
Terry Hilliard talks about films of the test sites created by the Atomic Weapons Research Establishment (AWRE) and how they showed a lack of safety precautions. Hilliard discusses the laidback approach to safety procedures more in other parts of his life story interview. He has a unique perspective as someone who flew planes through radioactive clouds shortly after weapon detonations.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. Terry Hilliard was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. The interviewer was Fiona Bowler. The project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed at the British Library.
In the AWRE film, they show them building the runway and doing this and that, and they mention, we built sixteen radiation-proof dwellings for protection. Who went into those? The Head of Bomber Command, the head officer commanding the base, and the AWRE.
Yeah.
Then they show an airman working eight miles from the explosion picking up the bits with his hand, collecting the debris. Straight after the explosion, just in shorts.
Yeah. Just in shorts.
And that’s in the film.
Yeah, yeah.
And they don’t make anything of it, they didn’t say, ooh dear, you know, he hasn’t got any protection on. They just ignore it. But it’s in the fifties, you know, health and safety wasn’t invented.
[ends at 0:00:58]
The crew of HMNZS Pukaki, a weather reporting ship during Operation Grapple, attempt to remove radioactive fallout from the decks. Photo © Torpedo Bay Navy Museum, used with permission.
Even decades after the nuclear tests the inequality of information between different types of test participants can lead to unusual encounters. John Simes joined the Royal Engineers through National Service and was then attached to the AWRE during Operation Grapple. In this remarkable clip, he recounts a chance meeting with an AWRE scientist in a shop in the year 2000. The scientist said ‘I’m surprised you’re still here’ to Simes, presumably in reference to the health implications of his work on Christmas Island. This encounter illustrates how reminders of the nuclear past and its long-term implications can pop up in everyday life. The nuclear past still plays a part in the lives of test veterans in the present.
John Simes tells a story about a chance encounter with somebody who worked for the Atomic Weapons Research Establishment (AWRE), and their comments on his health. While on Christmas Island, Simes assisted the AWRE in tasks such as setting up measuring equipment and building towers. In his life story interview, he speaks about AWRE scientists joking about his future fertility.
This is a short extract from an in-depth interview. John Simes was recorded for the Oral History of British Nuclear Test Veterans project in 2024. The interviewer was Fiona Bowler. The project was run in partnership with National Life Stories and the full interview can be accessed at the British Library.
2000, it was. 2000, and we went to, I found this memorabilia, military memorabilia place. And I was talking to the owner, and he was in the Royal Engineers, and we were swapping stories and he was telling me what he did and everything else, then I told him about Christmas Island. And there was a little fellow standing very close, and after I’d finished, he said, ‘Ooh’ he said, ‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation’. And he said, ‘I worked with the AWRE’. And then he turned round to me and said, ‘I’m surprised you’re still here’. But then he started on about he worked with William Penney, and then he started telling me about the tins they used to, they used to do experiments on toothpaste tubes and tins and they could calculate whatever they did, so he must have been fairly close to William Penney, I suppose, or Lord Penney at the time. He explained how they calculated blast with it. Not that I, you know, knew too much about that. But then Daphne came along, we'll go off for lunch, she said. And I didn’t have chance, I should have, I should have questioned him.
[ends at 0:01:30]
William Penney at Emu Field with C A Adams, scientific superintendent of the Totem tests, and Brigadier L C Lucas. Photo © BNTVA Museum, used with permission.
Several themes emerge from the audio clips in this article. One is the lasting psychological impact of witnessing the force of a nuclear blast, which left deep and persisting impressions of fear and vulnerability. Veterans feel this vulnerability for themselves in the present, and for their families into the future. Potential exposure to radiation has led to a sense of uncertainty. Veterans also feel a personal moral uncertainty about their participation, and broader uncertainty about the consequences of living in a world with nuclear weapons.
Dr Laura Considine is an Associate Professor of International Politics in the School of Politics and International Studies (POLIS) at the University of Leeds where she teaches and researches global nuclear politics. Her current work focuses on conceptualising nuclear weapons in international politics and International Relations theory, feminist approaches to nuclear weapons, and nuclear narratives. Her work has been published in academic journals including International Affairs, International Theory, Review of International Studies and the European Journal of International Relations.
Header image: Halliard, a megaton blast and the second test in the Grapple Z series. Photo © 1958, UK Government Open Licence, used with permission.
