H Bomb Tests |Christmas Island |Pacific | Grapple Y 1958

On a dark moonless night,  we were bussed to Heathrow airport in civilian clothes and put on a BAOC super constellation plane. All cloak and dagger stuff. We were going on a "special mission" but at this stage we still didn't know where. We flew to New York, and stayed for  a couple of hours, long enough to change planes to a United flight going to San Francisco. From there we flew on  to Honolulu.  

I remember, we arrived early in the morning with the scent of flowers in our nostrils  and  greeted  by a group of local girls putting flowers around our necks. So far, things had been too good and could not last. The last leg was yet to come. This was an  RAF  noisy plane, a Hastings with no frills. No comfort on this plane, and what a racket it made as it flew along with its spinning propellers. Now we knew, our destination was a small island in the middle of nowhere about a 1000 or so miles south of Honolulu. 

It must have been early afternoon when we arrived. I remember the heat as they opened the door of the plane. Palm trees everywhere and a few small huts at the side of the runway. From here we were taken to the Main Camp for processing. We  had our tropical dress and were strongly advised to keep the shirt sleeves down so as not to get sunburned. We were put in huge marquees till our accommodation was ready and had nothing to do but play cards on the floor to pass the time. We kept our kitbag on the ground alongside our camp beds and eventually we were moved to allocated tents, 4 at a time.   There was a large number  of young service men on Xmas Island.

The Army was there  building roads and organising the camp.  The  Navy was there being responsible for water, that the army distributed in tankers left out to heat up in the mid-day sun, and then there was us, the RAF preparing the bomb. There were rows and rows of tents as far as the eye could see. We each had a bed  and a small locker. Around each tent, a ditch had been dug to stop flooding from the tropical downpours, and boards had been placed to keep out the land crabs that roamed all over this island. 

My tent was  E17 which happened to be near the ocean-front and close to the food marquee. There was little benefit in this, since the reef made swimming impossible and the food had gone off. We wore plimsolls because the coral was sharp. We  had to take care not to be  dragged out over the reef, but  some had not been so lucky. 

Food was served in a grand marquis, and it was important to arrive before the road building soldiers came along and selected the bread. There were no hand washing facilities as far as I can remember.  Picking up bread from the basket was of little use. There was also no air conditioning  and the butter on the table was also of little use. The trick was to sit closer to the exit in case of emergencies. Emergencies were frequent and could be hazardous because of the ropes making it necessary to avoid and save seconds in getting to the toilets.  

The water was supplied in army tankers who were parked  in the sun and if you wanted a cool drink, it was best to wait for the evening when you could get orange juice from the NAAFI canteen. Our supplies were limited  with little fresh fruit  and drinks. Our water could be any temperature depending on the time of day and the sun's position. I remember on one occasion it was said that  a sailor had  fallen into a tank of water with a sack full of chlorine. The water was in short supply and had to be used so you held your breath and took a quick swallow to get it down before you could feel the taste. 

The working conditions at the airfield, were much better than the living accommodation. I was lucky to be one of two technicians supposedly providing second line service for the navigational radars that was fitted on the Valiant that was supposed to drop the bomb and the Canberras that went through the clouds to "sniff" the radioactivity level of the explosions. 

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Thanks to the equipment, we had well-regulated air conditioning, and we all benefited from it. Likewise with food at the airfield, which was meant for the visiting crews from the UK   squadrons. It was no surprise that we volunteered to work long hours, and we could also listen to the world on our powerful short-wave receivers. There was also  Radio KULA  Honolulu who would often make snide remarks about our conditions on Xmas Island and rib us about our tents as if we were in Arabi. 

Of course, the Americans were doing similar tests from  Johnson Island, but as would be expected, they had huge transport planes supplying their boys with all the home comforts such as cokes  fresh meats, vegetables and other goodies which we could only dream about. Our supplies  were restricted on what could be carried by our  Hastings planes. 

We often had to put up with downpours that are common in the tropics. Wearing sandals and trudging through paddles of water was a little uncomfortable because the island had a huge land crab population who when not trying to enter the tents would cover the road from the main camp to the airfield and driving the land rover at night, we would unfortunately  not avoid going over them.  

The first month in our new home was very grim with nothing to do.  We had an open-air cinema and on Sundays we could hear the church bells that blared out from the Tannoy’s. We could always make a trip to the old port but contact with the Gilbertese natives was not allowed. You could swim at the port, which was an almost closed lagoon, but even there, there was a danger of a shark getting through.  

Washing was with water from taps installed along metal troughs.  

There were always rumours that the drop date would be delayed due to weather conditions that had to be better than perfect if we did not want to have the downpour full of radioactive material over us. We had been told that as soon as the test Grapple Y was over, we would be sent back home so the calendar was very important. There  were a couple of Atom Bomb explosions nearer to the airfield, but these were not air drops as was Grapple Y and Grapple Z that followed a few months later. 

When the day came for Grapple Y, we were all ready and we knew our positions. Everything went off like clockwork. There had been some minor incidents during the run up, when the AWRE scientists were concerned to notice a frequency of some 50 Khz transmissions that were interfering with their work. Fortunately, they traced it down to our testing a particular set of equipment in the Radio Servicing Bay.  

It is still a wonder how we managed to keep the equipment working during this stressful period. I had managed to pass out of the Radio School at Yatesbury as a so-called qualified Junior Technician Fitter and thanks to my short first posting  working in a Maintenance Unit, I had some notions on how to keep the equipment running. On occasion I would also fly on training runs to check out the equipment on board. Was I surprised to be told that only the pilots had ejector seats on the Valiant. 

The drop morning started with a lot of expectation and some anxiety. Those of us on duty, were assembled on the tarmac and issued with white suits supposedly to deflect the flash. There were lorries waiting for us in case of emergency for evacuation. The rest of the troops were all taken to the other side of the island and put into landing craft waiting for the explosion as if they could be protected in the event of a dirty bomb. 

Finally, all planes took off, to be clear of the white bird with the bomb, and the Valiant lifted off ready for the testing runs before its live run.  It went through its checks during a navigation run and instruments run before its final. The Tannoy blared out the seconds as the moment approached for the explosion. Nothing much, other than a great silence  as the seconds descended to about 15 then 10. At this point, silent panic on what was to happen. At the count of 2 all went blank, 2 and then the great flash at zero, with the count continuing as if nothing had happened. No one really listened anymore. 

 The flash was so intense that even with our hands shielding our closed eyes and looking down into the ground the heat and light was indescribable. I could see the bones of my hands as if on an x ray and felt the heat as if I had been suddenly put inside a blazing oven. Fortunately, this was momentary, and we started relaxing, when the Tannoy told us to stay down waiting for the blast. When this came the shock caused the trees at the side of the tarmac to bend over. After this, we were told that we could turn and face the bomb.  

This was initially a doughnut with different colours of the light spectrum. It was a creepy feeling for some time as it was ominously practically over us since the distance of the air drop was not that far.   

After the Grapple Y test, we were told that there had to be some more testing due to the international situation, and the return to the UK would be postponed. There would be a Grapple Z, and it did not make any sense to take us back and bring out a new crew.  

There  were a couple of Atom Bomb explosions nearer to the airfield, but these were not air drops as was Grapple Y and Grapple Z that followed. We had gone out in February for Grapple Y to take place in April, and we  finished the year with a trip on the Captain Cook that was originally an immigrant ship taking people to New Zealand. The ship was going back to be scrapped so they put us on it.  

I remember thinking that we in the RAF were no longer needed, as was the case for the army, so we went back by ship, cruising through the Pacific Ocean on to Honolulu in Hawaii and then through the Panama Canal to the West Indies. A stop in the Dutch West Indies at Curacao completed the cruise in the Southern seas, and then we hit the stormy Atlantic at the worse time in December with the slow ship taking for ever, rolling in the mountainous waves that brought the fish to our cabin portholes  finally disembarking at Southampton in early January.  

John Contogeorge