The 10th of February is an important date in my life, it’s my birthday, and 1956 was an especially important year. The occasion, the arrival of the advance party of 1 troop, 7th Independent Field Squadron, Royal Australian Engineers at the 43 mile camp site for the oncoming atomic tests destined to be held at Maralinga.
1 troop, numbering 72 members, consisted of predominantly sappers of my own age, 19 and with limited army experience. A core of an older in age and experience old soldier types, a number of who had served in the previous mainland tests at Emu were also in this advance party. Emu had been part of the British atomic tests in 1952 and was situated some hundred or more miles north in the desert from Maralinga. As a unit we were commanded by Captain Jim Lockey and seconded by Lieutenant Sharpe, we had two sergeants Jack Spedding and Cliff Stuart together with a number of full and lance corporals.
I knew only a limited number of the troops in 7 Squadron; these were those who had attended the same field engineering class at the School of Military Engineering that had concluded the previous year. I had been posted to 17 Construction Squadron, stationed at Kingsford, whilst 7 Squadron was in the grounds of S.M.E. as 7 Sqdn. had no plant operators attached, part of the plant troop of 17 was attached for the duration of the planned tests. We had Billy Mills who normally held the rank of sergeant but I think was a corporal at Maralinga, Bluey Thomas a corporal, Rocky Main, corporal and ex Emu, Hec Lawler Spr, Bruce Sloggett, Spr, Ray Howard Spr and me the learner.
We had spent a number of weeks with 7 Sqdn. preparing for the projected ………… mile journey by vehicle, packing the required equipment into the eight allotted vehicles, old G.M.C.s and from memory newer International trucks, two jeeps and two Harley Davidson motorcycles. Most of our time was gainfully spent, there was nothing else to do, in making camouflage nets, weaving scrimmage through the netting, the old army axiom, idle hands lead to mischief, must have something to do.
Did we have any briefing on what to expect, I don’t think so, the ex Emu blokes told of some of the hardships in working in a desert environment the lack of basic facilities and such but nothing was said of or perhaps known of the effects and danger of radiation associated with the firing of atomic bombs. It must be remembered that this period of time was only 12 years after the first atomic bombs were dropped during the war and the trading of information between concerned nations was not of the day.
To us it was an adventure, there was no conflict where Australian troops could be sent, young men yearn adventure, if not why join any of the services. The alternative would be to spend ones time in a base camp somewhere in Australia and the main point to be remembered is that we had no choice in the decision to go, we were all posted, the young, the married with family the lot.
Prior to leaving Liverpool we all had visits to the dentist, well at least he had the title and officer rank of dentist, at Moorebank, people like Bruce Sloggett could attest to his skill and his personality, we had to be classed A.1. in fitness and only the rudiments in hospital care was to be expected from then on.
We left in a convoy of eight vehicles and seventy two troops staying overnight in C.M.F. (citizen military forces) drill halls or in the country showgrounds. The route followed the Murray River through Victoria and South Australia with the last civilisation being at Ceduna. It was in this frontier town, where we camped in the street sleeping on the footpath, where Ray Howard earnt himself a name of sorts when after being approached outside of the hotel by a large local tribesman, who by law was not allowed in the pub or to buy liquor, agreed to take his proffered one pound note and to exchange it with mine host for a suitable quantity of liquor. Later that night we were awakened by the now very irate bare-footed boomerang armed local who had been ripped right off.
From Ceduna the road, or track, was unsealed and pretty rough even or because of the mode of transport and it was on the Nullarbor Plain that we stopped and some of the party climbed into one of the water tanks to keep cool, that were and still are positioned on the roadside.
Some distance later we left the road and followed a track heading north into the desert country and for a time we followed a track alongside the railway line. Bruce Sloggett and the cook (whose name I don’t remember) had the task of going ahead first light in the morning and setting up for meals, they had a Wiles Cooker towed behind a G.M.C. and the road or lack of it caused the towing hitch to break and this had to be welded, (did we also tow a K.V.A.).
The track led to our first clay pan and we spent some time contemplating the way across with the vehicles which had by necessity been heavily loaded. We must have been successful because we later passed through an aboriginal camp where we saw our first sight of a camel. He was attached to the chassis of an old engineless truck and was being used as a form of transport for the aborigines who seemed to be permanently camped in the area. We made friends with the children of the camp by throwing blown up condoms, then called French letters which for some unknown reason we had been issued with, to them from the backs of the truck.
On reaching the rail siding at Watson, the gateway to the firing range, consisting of six or seven small railway houses, a small railway station and that was that. From Watson to the 43 mile camp was, as the name suggests, 43 miles from Watson, over a well graded though dusty sand surface road, running alongside and then over a number of sand hills and then at last to a flat barren area, stunted salt bushes, marked by a large marquee with an army issue mobile refrigerator and camp cooker.
Our first stop was the marquee where we were issued with our first surprise, a cup of tea. This was no ordinary cup for it had been made with bore water and was so many times saltier than sea water, utterly impossible to drink, a great welcome to Maralinga. Our second shock came only minutes later; we were led to the site of our new camp, on the ground lay dozens of very used eight men army tents, piles of tent poles and tent pegs. Our first orders, erect one tent between two men in parallel rows to the large dining marquee. Using wooden malls it was impossible to drive a steel peg below the surface of the sand, the pegs in effect would bend and almost double over, and much as we looked for softer ground it was impossible, some started to get their tents erected outside of the delineated lines and were quickly told to get them regimented. The only way to get pegs into the ground was to first drill holes with the one and only towed compressor that we had brought with us. This entailed time and effort in the by now afternoon heat of February summer and did not lead to a feeling of goodwill between all. This is where we had our first encounter with what was to become one of the major problems encountered, the bush fly. That first cup of tea, now made with fresh water, was shared with these pests and many a fly was swallowed along with the tea.
I shared my tent with Ray Howard; we had the last tent, counting the orderly/stores tent as the first from the parade ground, in the row nearest the mess marquee. As with al the others we had a steel trunk each and a metal stretcher for furnishing. The tents were left open almost all of the time with the sides rolled up, when the windstorms came, as they often did, even the tied down sides and fronts could not keep the red sand out and everything was covered. It was sometime later that the “chuffer” was obtained and this device was towed behind a four wheel drive vehicle and did a tour around the camp dispensing a stream of smoke like vapour designed to kill the flies.
That it was not 100% effective was shown by after a few months in residence some of the blankets were fly blown, hats khaki fur felt were blown around the headband where perspiration had gathered and those blankets had to be replaced by the Q.M.
At the top of our row of tents lived the Sqdn. Clerk whose correct name escapes me but was widely known as Mousy Strassfeldt, and even that will be the wrong spelling, together with Mr. Sharpe, the 2.i.c.
The parade ground was that area in front of the row of tents and we were assembled there for the first parade of the morning
Our duties for the first period were to erect the 43 mile camp; everything came from the U.K. in crates or pallets and were prefabricated. Some of these plywood crates then became our shower and toilet blocks. One of my personal tasks was to assist Bluey O’Brien, a plumber, in getting the water pipes cut to size and laid from the water tower to the shower block. The water, when it was finally connected, was bore water and ordinary soap was of no use whatever. We were issued with special salt water soap named Seagull which lathered, in a fashion, another party were involved in the erection of the tents that were to be occupied by the air force and navy personnel who were due to arrive later. It was some small time before the tasks associated with the actual bomb were commenced.
We had a marquee erected for a wet canteen and from where movies were shown from time to time.
We were joined by our new R.S.M. at an early date, Tom Muggleton, of the Royal Australian Regiment, he must have found it quiet a culture shock to come from the regiment to a sapper camp.
Tom always looked the part of a RSM in bearing and dress and his troops would have looked the antithesis of his former charges. Our dress was worn for comfort in the desert heat and shorts, more the worse for wear, bare tops, boots worn by the sand and hats of undetermined shape was the order of the day. Tom, whose duties were not that onerous, spent a lot of his time in the bush trapping dingoes of which there were plenty. The dogs kept away from the immediate area from the camp but were plentiful in the bush. What was surprising, at least to me, was the presence of camels, away in the Never Never one could find the big splayfooted tracks in the sand hills and although I only saw the animals from a distance it was apparent that a number were in the vicinity. Kangaroos were plentiful, big ones at that, and the majestic wedge tailed eagle built nests of large sized branches in the stunted trees and they used the sealed roadway as a sort of landing field to take off when they would flap their huge wings and run, if that is the word, for quiet some distance until they were able to gain take off speed. We also had little field mice, which became of pest proportions in the tents and ingenious ways of trapping were invented. One method used, more for fun than extermination, was to have a piece of timber leading like a ramp to the top of a container filled with water with a piece of food balanced on the end over the water. The mouse, tempted by the bait scampered to the bait and then, so the theory went, splash.
Not far from the camp site was a very historical feature, Tietkens well. This relic of years gone by was the only reminder in that remote inhospitable place of the exertions undertaken years gone by the party of explorers led by Tietken. In an endeavor to discover water to enable them to survive, they had dug this hole in the ground in a search for the all important water.
The surface at Maralinga is covered in extremely fine red bull dust but this is only a matter of inches deep then begins a solid depth of white coloured fractured rock. How the earlier visitors, using the most primitive of hand tools, dug to the depth they did in such conditions shows the calibre of those explorers. Records show that they did in fact strike the elusive water, but it too was too salty for consumption. There was an amount of rough-cut timber near the opening but whether this comprised the parts of a windlass or not is up to speculation.
Talking of timber, there was none save for the stunted, bent and twisted form of eucalyptus, covered in vicious ants and the iron hard mulga. Ground cover consisted of salt bush, full of prickles when dry at which time it formed into ball shapes and blown by the wind would cover the landscape. These balls were handy for the lighting of fires to boil the billy but were a menace when driven through and the radiators would suffer. The mulga is perfect for cooking fires but later became a serious problem when the grader was forming tracks, necessary for the monitoring of the tests, when it would pierce the tyres like pieces of steel.
One of the first engineering tasks to be undertaken was the erection of a tower and the placement of a water tank. This edifice was later to become the first sign of the camp when arriving by road. From memory, before the tank could be filled for use the winds, which can become quite savage, lifted the tank from its perch and deposited it next to the R.A.A.F transport lines.
Night entertainment was for a hard core, playing poker in one of the tents. It was like lambs to slaughter, young bucks with visions of the Wild West type of gambling in mind, against some of the hard line old diggers who had played the game in some of the furthest corners of Australia and perhaps the world.
Two come to mind, Rocky Main for sure and I think Snowy Sturgess, were masters of the game. Rocky could count cards like kids can count lollies, it wouldn’t matter what you had in your hand Rocky knew from the cards that had been dealt and discarded what you didn’t have and he could play accordingly. He would borrow a pound or two from me some evenings, I think most of his pay went to the bank, and without fail he would return the same to me that same evening from a roll of notes that had been donated from the players.
That was the limit to the entertaining for the troops, we were allowed two bottles of beer per week, on the Sunday, issued from the canteen caravan and these bottles were opened when purchased. For sappers, and to be fair the navy and air force personnel whose conditions of service were as arduous as those of ours, these two bottles took on a great importance. I lost two bottles once when my hands, covered in sweat, could not hold the bottles covered in beautiful beads of icy cold frost slipped through my grasp and made a golden foam in the sand when they clashed together falling to the ground. To be fair they were replaced, without cost, by the canteen manager and were carried away to be consumed with a much firmer pressure. Most of the drinking took place in the big marquee, near the shower block, and drinking glasses were made from beer bottles being cut below the neck by the old way of tying a piece of string soaked in petrol around the selected site of the neck, set afire and then the bottle dunked in a bucket of water. Like drinkers anywhere it was dangerous to leave ones drink partly consumed in the area of Maralinga. The idea was to search Emu and to retrieve any building supplies tools etc. that may have been left behind and that may have assisted in the establishment of Maralinga.
I didn’t go but I remember the amount of material that was recovered. It allowed for the work to continue. Among the items recovered was a large number of “giggle suits” these were very well made coveralls used as protective clothing for those entering the contaminated area during the last tests. These suits were now being worn by nearly all of a night time as the height of fashion.
One night at the open air movies, Ray Howard and I were enjoying a quiet beer and staring at the screen when an enormous centipede bit Ray on the thigh; I made a swipe at the beast with my bottle but missed and got bit on the thumb for my trouble. A little time later both Ray and I were in pain, his more than mine I’m sure, and we had to get the R.A.P. member to have a look and try and ease the pain. He decided that as the poison effect of giant centipedes was not within his limited knowledge we should be taken to Watson, 43 miles away over part sand dune roads, for a professional opinion of a doctor who was employed, probably by the construction company Kiwana, and based at Watson. Charlie Easy undertook the trip and we headed off in one of the old 1940s Willy jeeps that were used. It wasn’t the best of trips; the road was bad enough but the thought of that creatures poison going through the system made the trip even worse. A couple of hours later we arrived at the railhead and the three of us went to the small building that we had been told housed doctor. The sounds of music and laughter came from the open door and in answer to our knock we met with a man holding what I now know to be a brandy balloon, I’d only seen these glasses on the movies before. He was the most obnoxious person I had met in my life, no wonder he was practicing in the middle of no where, on being told we had been bitten and sent to consult with him as to the severity of the poison, he took the stance that he was not to be concerned with such petty affairs and that he had more important things to do with his time. Well that might have been that, doctors are doctors and we only soldiers and sappers at that. Well not with Charlie Easy, he took that doctor right on and read his family history in no uncertain terms. The pain in my thumb took on second place as I heard this lance corporal berate the doctor. The result was that Ray and I received treatment and were kept for observation at the small hospital at Watson until we were cleared by a chastened doctor the next morning.
Although the work was arduous and working conditions primitive, morale was kept at a remarkable high and we were all in the peak of physical and mental condition. One case of stress comes to mind and it occurred with “paddy?”, who shared a tent with Bluey Thomas’ hearing voices coming from his radio set. These phantom voices were not connected with any scheduled radio program but were in his mind only. It was decided that he should be flown out of the area in the next available aircraft and one of the staunchest members, in my opinion, corporal “Twiggy’ was sent with Paddy as a helpmate and escort for treatment. Time clouds many issues and I may be wrong but I think Paddy later became Ray Howard’s father in law, having married the widowed mother of Ray’s wife.
After working the long hours that were necessary to complete the camp in the allotted schedule and without having a day off for weeks then months, it was decided to give the troops a break. Transport was provided to carry the troops the extensive distance to the coast to give the workers a swim in the ocean. I don’t know where they went. Ray Howard had a better idea. Ray and I and one of the young Survey Corp members took one of the land rovers and headed for Emu. Unauthorised and taboo.
It was no effort, the track by now was well defined and 44 gallon fuel drums were left in small dumps on the side of the track. It was necessary to refuel on the way as four wheel drive and low range had to be used at times. The track wandered over sand dunes and skirted large salt pans. This jaunt finished at Emu and began one of the most frightening experiences of my life. From first sight Emu appeared to be still operating as a camp. There was a sealed roadway, a windmill still turning and this was servicing the toilets. As one walked past the toilet blocks the toilets would flush, the living quarters remained furnished with stretchers and bedside lockers, the mess, with its large colourful wall mural painted by Len Beadell, had tables and chairs, cooking utensils and the vegetable lockers had potatoes and onions now in the stage of growing. A very large cat was in residence in the mess hall. There was ample tinned food of variety in the lockers to enable us to have a midday meal. Outside the sealed streets were covered in tumbleweeds blowing down the street with the wind and very large red kangaroos could be seen.
I was fascinated with the workshops, all types of heavy machinery were lined up ready it appeared to be operated, hand tools were placed on shadow boards on the walls, all good quality, trucks and land rovers were lined up outside with no visible sign to show why they were not taken when the camp closed. Some had by this time flat tyres and from trying to start a couple it was obvious that they now had flat batteries. From all appearances it seemed that somebody had given the order and everyone had just downed tools and left, the camp then remaining as it was until visited first by the recovery party sent earlier from 43 mile and now by us.
It was against all that I had learnt in my short time in the services, everything I had ever been issued with to use for working, tools etc. had to be signed for and any piece of equipment whatsoever had to remain on charge until a board of survey was set up to dispose of any U.S. equipment and yet here was thousands of items laying where they had been left. It just didn’t compute, to this day I believe that something happened at Emu to cause a hurried withdrawal with no thought of the equipment left behind.
On leaving the camp site proper we went for a drive around the general area and came across what must have been the command site for the bomb tests or experiments of some kind. There was a number of what I would describe as portable windowless rooms with black cloth curtains, flapping in the breeze, over the doorways giving darkness to the interior. Inside were banks of instruments set up not unlike what one now sees in space movies, in the complete absence of any other person or even sounds it was a frightening scene and one that I was only too happy to leave. We took from the workshop area a number of electric tools to return to the 43 mile. Our return journey was without incident and nobody was ever the wiser that we had been to Emu. A short time later Ray and his mate returned to Emu, without my knowledge and from late accounts took with them a spare battery that they then placed into a land rover and then began the trip back. Their plan was to hide the land rover near Watson and later to return and have it shipped out by train to Sydney. I doubt if the back of the land rover remained empty when there was so much portable equipment laying around for the taking. Anyway the venture did not come to fruition. A blown head gasket put paid to the plan and a match was thought to be the answer to the culprits being found. It was only short time before the burnt out remains were discovered and a full compulsory parade was held where it was explained that the person/persons involved were in danger of radioactivity and in need of immediate medical help. If they came forward no further action would be taken. Needless to say no one came forward and after a few nights of checking to see if they glowed in the dark the two offenders rested easy. This venture wasn’t one off; there was a D8 bulldozer invitingly left at Emu. What a great start to an earthmoving business this would be if one could only track it to the railway line, not Watson because security would be rather shocked to see a bulldozer come out of the desert but maybe down the line a bit. After the fuss of the bomb tests one could come back and retrieve the machine and then ones civilian future would be assured as the owner of such a valuable machine. This plan also came a gutser when the gear lever either broke or fell off and there was no way of repairing with out the proper tools. This time the machine was not set to the torch but left where it was. It was later found and then brought to 43 mile on the back of a low loader. And who was responsible for this caper, well once again old hands from 17 Const. were responsible. What equipment was taken and later found its way into the civilian world only those involved would ever know.
It was during April/may, a few months into our stay that a nasty incident occurred and with the passage of time the details are now blurred. It started with a clash of personalities in the officer’s mess, which had far reaching consequences and the removal of the officer with the title “range commander”. At about this time, or maybe it was the same evening, a member of the troop, a GMC. driver, after a few beers, decided that he had had enough of the working conditions or lack thereof, and took off in his vehicle, minus an exhaust pipe, and after doing a circuit of the camp area headed off with a roar southward with the purpose in mind of going where? He was stopped at Watson and had to drive the vehicle back to 43 mile under escort. He was then placed in one of the tents that was to be used as his place of confinement but a party of the troops, including air force and navy, took exception to this treatment and managed to pull the tent pegs from the ground, tent collapses, prisoner is released. Then came what has been called “the riot” I remember little except for the mass of troops parading around as a mob making a hell of a din with dirt tins and lids. If I remember correctly Tom Muggleton, the RSM. was the calming influence during this event.
A short time later we had a visit from what I remember was a General who on a parade gave a rousing morale boosting lecture, promised better conditions and a weeks leave and then left the area to a rousing three cheers. Well that’s the accepted version; I don’t remember the three cheers as being spontaneous or heart felt.
A list was produced of those members who, now that the 43 mile camp was completed and functioning, were no longer required and were to be returned to Liverpool. A convoy was formed with those vehicles that had originally been brought from Liverpool, some now the worse for wear and tear. At least one of the jeeps, carried piggy back on one of the trucks, had an extra load with tools taken from Emu smuggled out in the petrol tank that had been adapted so that to the eyes of any prying official would appear to hold only petrol.
Before the departure of these members we, the rest, were given one weeks leave in our home state, a result I believe of the visit by the general. We were paraded and told in no uncertain terms if we failed to return when due not only would we be liable for horrible disciplinary measures but our mates would also suffer. We all returned as scheduled.
We travelled on one of the worlds last great train journeys, from Watson to, was it Port Augusta?, where we boarded the modern Budd car train to Adelaide, overnighted and then flew domestic to Sydney. On the first phase of the trip we joined a number of railway fettlers, big drinkers but even bigger card players. Some of our party left more of their hard earned money in these blokes pockets than they had to spend on the rest of their leave.
On our return, did Johnny Martin really get married in those few days? I shared a carriage with Gus Sirosky, (remember him?) And as it was the middle of winter and I had left my great coat in Sydney, we had a tug of war all night on the train to get the biggest share of his coat.
On our return the second part of the troop left on their return to Sydney. I then shared my tent with Hec Lawler.
A second larger tent city was built 11 miles from Watson on the road to Maralinga. This site was set aside for the large number of what was to be called “indoctranees” from all over the world and very important persons who were to witness the oncoming tests.
About this time we received our first pieces of plant, other than the D8 being used for the laying of cables and the D4 that the Survey Corp. had to clear their lines of sight. We had two D7s, cable operated blades that had been used by the civilian construction corp. during the war. They were pretty knocked about but were used constantly until long after the tests and didn’t miss a beat.
At this time my duties took me from the main force of the squadron and with the other plant operators, Rocky Maine, Bruce Slogget, Hec Lawler, we were employed in the bush, staying out in tent flys for accommodation. Our duties were in the making of roads and tracks for the scientists to monitor the effects of the coming blasts.
Snowy Sturgess later joined us with a brand new Cat 12 grader and he finished off these roads/ tracks. I had the honour at this time to work with one of Australia’s best and last explorers, Len Beadell. The method used was for Len to travel in his specially equipped land rover to a set point in the distance, worked out with his theodolite, and from a high vantage point on a sand hill either flash with a hand held mirror or fire a vary pistol rocket. The bulldozer would then be driven in an attempt to make a straight line to Len. This was time consuming owing to the stunted growth that had to be cleared and with this growth full of vicious little ants it wasn’t the most pleasant. To add to the conditions the heat was such that to place ones hands on the engine cowling was sure to produce a burn. Len was a great man, no doubt, but he wasn’t concerned with elementary things like eating. We had a confrontation when I baulked at working past the accepted lunch hour period with out having any sustenance. Len soon solved this problem, a can of hot tinned peaches taken from his vehicle, opened with a tomahawk, and presto, that’s your lunch, now back to work.
This is where I had my first meeting with wild dingoes, they were so uncaring of us that of a night they would enter under the tent fly and from next to our camp stretchers they would hunt for small mice in our food lockers. They had no fear whatsoever. On top of each of the sand hills that our track traversed Len would put a small marker flag with a pennant of triangular coloured cloth. The dingoes took a likening to this cloth and they would walk unconcernedly behind the noisy dozer to steal this cloth. Every few days we had to return to 43 mile for provisions, on one of these trips, in the evening I hit the largest kangaroo I had ever seen. He did considerable damage to steering and front end of the land rover and I had to limp into 43.
The next day I told a number of the troops of my experience and I can swear to the fact that Soapy (Elliott) returned to where the animal still lay on the road and parts finished up in the cooking pot or maybe the barbecue plate. This seems to put a different light on the propaganda later spread as to the exquisite and plentiful amount of rations the generous government made available to their hard working troops.
With the advent of winter we were all now issued with leather sleeveless jerkins; this gives some indications of the variance in temperature in the desert. The vehicles now had to be provided with anti freeze and those members working on the erection of the steel buildings in the forward area had to wait until the sun warmed up before the could use their bare hands on the cold steel or else risk freezing their skin to the steel. Mousey, the troop clerk, had an artistic bent and he started to decorate the back of the jerkins with cartoon characters. Unsoldierly, a big no no and these pieces of art had then to be removed.
We were being supplied with provisions and stores by aircraft as well as rail Bristol freighters; a large brutish shaped, low speed plane of the times was employed in this task. The pilots took great delight in flying low over our tented camp and with the down blast of their props causing the canvas to flap like sails in a storm and the dust rising into the air leaving a cover of sand over everything in the camp. Must have looked funny to the air crew from up there.
It was whilst we were still at 43 mile camp that we were joined by members of the Canadian army. They came fully equipped with their own transport, reliable Ford Power Wagons and dressed in uniforms better in quality than that of ours.
We didn’t have a lot of contact with these members; I think they must have enjoyed their own company more. Members of the Royal Australian Armoured Corp also made up our happy family. These members brought with them Centurion tanks and Ferret scout cars. It wasn’t unusual to see these steel monsters in their accompanying cloud of dust racing full mell through the desert. The only problem with these tank jockeys was the attached smell in their coveralls. Apparently when the guns were fired the cordite fumes, plus engine exhaust fumes saturated the cloth and any amount of washing would not remove this smell. The Tankies sat at the other end of the mess tent.
43 mile camp was by now becoming a crowded small town filled with the workers. We had been promised that the main camp at Maralinga village would have been finished before this date abut problems were found with the water supply, all the asbestos pipes becoming cracked. Luckily this didn’t stop the administration staff and English scientific people from using the facilities of the village. They could sleep in their fly proofed cabins of a night and dine very well thank you, in their air conditioned fly proof messes drinking their cool ale from frosted glasses of an evening.
We on the other hand still resided in our, by now falling to pieces tents, having to put our sweat soaked blankets out to dry each day to prevent them becoming fly blown.
Later when we did finally move to the luxury of the Village we had the opportunity of meeting with these pillars of the English establishment and we were utilised by these people to do their bidding. This is where I first became aware of class distinction, these graduates of Eton or wherever with their plums in the mouth, were under the illusion that we colonials were put on earth to be their lackeys. What a mob of clowns. We told some of these wonders their antecedents and the difference between earned respect and servile compliance. Can you imagine grown men wearing shirts and ties with jackets in the desert, all they needed to complete the picture were swagger sticks and with their attitude I wouldn’t have been surprised if they turned up in that garb. Anyway we had a parade and were told that we must not upset these very important, to themselves, members of the English upper class and to behave in a manner that would not upset the delicate nature of our betters.
Contrary to these self opinionated Poms, a number of young British national service men from both the air force and army arrived at the village. These poor souls were totally unprepared for what awaited them. They arrived dressed in the heavy serge uniforms suited for England and stayed this way until wiser clothes were provided. With their white skin and only days away from the English winter these young blokes must really have suffered.
Being desert one doesn’t expect to see rain, but in fact it does occur albeit rarely. It happened, the air turned cooler, the dust settled and a day or two later the red sand was coloured with the brightest of scarlets when the Sturt peas with their colourful flower and black centres bloomed in the places where the rain had fallen. Other small flowers, the names I’d never know, also came to life for the short term that the ground retained sufficient moisture for them to survive.
The only other colourful incident that I can recall came when the first and only female arrived at Maralinga. This was an extremely attractive air hostess, now called flight attendants, who had been part of the crew of the Ansett, or was it TAA. flight that had brought some government V.I.P. s to the area. This young lady was the centre of attraction, naturally, wherever she was taken on a tour in an open land rover. The V.I.P.s, did not rate a second glance
Anyway, we still haven’t finished with 43 mile camp. The pace now hotted up, an area was set aside for the target response area, jet aeroplanes, of a higher quality than we had at the time in our air force, Swifts, were brought in and tied down to concrete blocks near to the proposed blast. These planes were complete, ready to fly, some of the sappers had great fun sitting in the cockpits playing Biggles, until the information that the seats they were sitting on were liable to be propelled into the atmosphere if a certain train of actions were carried out and the wrong button pressed. The centurion tanks were placed in position. The buildings all erected and holes in the ground, ones we had dug with the dozers, now filled with large steel containers with magic electronic instruments placed in side. Anderson shelters by the dozens lay in mapped out positions some with dummies inside. A large number of dummies dressed in heavy British issued battle dress complete with white painted webbing placed in strategic positions. Some inside below ground, gun positions. There was said to be one or more female dummies ready to be placed too but these were to be left to the last rather that to cause erotic thoughts in the minds of the female starved troops. As a sidelight the webbing later proved to be life threatening, after the blasts a number of web belts were taken from the site. The brass buckle and keepers in the belts were of a much higher quality than Australian issue being rounded enabling a much higher polish to be obtained. These belts, once the white paint was removed were proudly worn by soldiers who later, health wise, must have regretted this action.
So it must have been about this time that we moved to the village, first making sure that not a trace was left to mark the bulldust of the 43 mile camp.
Those stubborn steel tent pegs that caused so much sweat to belt into the rock were now torn up by the dozers, the area completely flattened.
We now traveled each day to the forward area, except for those whose duties kept them at the village. A security post was erected at roadside, about 8 miles from ground zero at One Tree, and a mess tent erected for us for our lunch break. A little later a number of white painted specially constructed caravan type vehicles were towed in. These were to be used for the so called decontamination facilities for those obliged to enter the radiation contamination area. Roadside was manned by uniformed Commonwealth police whose duty it was to check the names and passes of each member carrying on from roadside.
One of those kept back at the village was Johnny Rivers, better known as “pommy’. His new task was to assist in the well being of the animals that were to be tethered in the path of the bomb and those who survived and could be found, were to be dissected to ascertain the amount of radiation they had been exposed to. This later led to one of the most amusing parts of the tests when John, not a really good rifle shot, tried valiantly to shoot the animals so their corpses could be tested and failed time after time to get a head shot with the .22 rifle he was issued with. John asked for help with some volunteer to hold the animal so he could get a better shot and couldn’t understand why no one stepped forward.
With all the tasks now being completed, only made possible by extended work hours, came the time for the first test.
We didn’t see the bomb. It was transported on a low loader under canvas and we were all taken from the area of the road to the tower so we could not see the actual bomb.
The timing depended, so it is said, on the vagaries of the weather, the wind had to be such that the expected mushroom type cloud would be swept away from any civilisation, but I’m sure it depended more on the vagaries of the English politicians. Whatever so it came to pass that all was ready, the metrological balloons were now seen to be more common and the transport for the press arranged from 11 mile camp. Sappers issued with printed instruction to where they fitted in to the great scheme of things and sent off to the ground zero area. Sand bag after sand bag was placed against the doors of the underground steel shelters containing the monitoring equipment, boffins ran around like chooks with their heads off checking and checking their electronic equipment. Every one out of the area, names checked off at roadside and then lined up to watch the result of all that work, and we waited and waited. Some say that the first delay was caused by a young British national service airman who had chased a frill neck lizard and got lost in the scrub. Officially we were told that the winds were in the wrong direction so it was back to the ground zero area, sand bags away from the containers and all the other preparations now reversed.
This farce continued on and off for over 16 days and nights until at last on the evening of Sunday the bomb was released, in a manner of speaking atop the tower.
We were all lined up in our allotted positions with our backs toward the tower, carrying out instructions to keep our eyes closed and hands over our eyes until after the blast. On command from the loudspeaker we were to turn and face the blast, eyes now opened and experience what man can do. Protective clothing, well we all wore our jackets and hats.
The majestic sight of the bomb has been described countless times, needless to say once seen never forgotten.
Like hell had ascended on earth, colours unimaginable, rolling rolling clouds of sand, dust, steam and vapour reaching into the heavens as high as the sky itself, rockets fired from the ground leaving their trails through the cloud at differing height level, a moving mass of sound waves the likes never seen before, solid in their appearance not slowly but quickly approaching. What cannot be described is the effect of that sound wave, no noise yet, hitting one and all like a blast with those off balance being thrown to the ground.
Now the noise, rumbling rumbling and loud enough to cause temporary deafness. I had the duty to drive one of the troop trucks back to the village later and I whirled away on the starter motor without realising that the motor had already started, I couldn’t hear a thing.
A further three bombs were detonated in the course of the tests, one at ground level, one from the second tower and one from, what I believed to be from a Canberra bomber but from further readings appear to have been from a Vulcan bomber. What I do remember is that the aircraft was in contact by radio with the ground party and the voice of the bombardier could be heard giving directions to the pilot over a loudspeaker that had been set up in the area in which we were waiting. The point of impact, from memory, was the length of a cricket pitch from the marked ground zero. An exceptional feat of accuracy we were told, thankfully. The dramatic effect of this bomb was also experienced in the same manner. After that blast each time we entered the contaminated area a distinct bump could be felt as the vehicles passed along the sealed road where the bomb had caused the road to sink into the ground.
1 troop was allotted duties before, during and after each of the blasts. Preparations took hours during the day and night before each. The ubiquitous sand bags were placed over important instrument sites, electronic monitoring devices were carried and placed into bunkers, assistance was given to the now ecstatic boffins, vehicles were driven into around and out of the sites and then the whole process was reversed after the buttons had been pushed.
All very safe though, everything had been judged safe by the experts before any troops were involved and all precautions taken. The fire that destroyed the messing tent at roadside following the air drop was an unfortunate happening. That the distance from the blast was more or less the same as that where the troops were held in waiting didn’t follow that they were in any danger. We all had protective clothing when we entered the decontamination area didn’t we? The presence of radio active dust, shown when the clothing was removed in the decontamination vans, prior to showering, doesn’t really mean that the suits weren’t fail proof. Anyway once you showered, and showered and showered the Geiger counter now showed that the dust had been washed down
the drains.
We were given special film badges, white rectangular metal with pink inserts. These were worn on the jacket at all times, except when working then the jacket was hung on the nearest point or placed on the ground. I suppose the film badge still worked in these situations. I could have found out up till only a few years ago, I had mine for years and years after. I wonder why it was taken from me in 1956 for testing. As a special piece of magic all of us entering for duty in the contaminated area were issued with a pencil shaped silver coloured dosimeter.
This device was to be checked every half or hour by peering through the end of the device where a scale could be seen. If this scale showed a certain reading one had to leave the area immediately and report to the decontamination centre. This might be o.k. if one had for transport a truck or Landrover but what if you had been taken miles away to operate a bulldozer. These aren’t the fastest of devices and when one is in a panic when the dosimeter shows a dangerous reading it isn’t the pleasantest trip. Arriving in a great cloud of dust, off with the gas mask, shaking hand over the dosimeter to the expert. “No worries, can’t depend on these things, here’s another, off you go.”
Protective clothing, in one end of the rows of decontamination vans looking like a bronze digger, boots, shorts, jackets and hats, out the other end like an astronaut. New underwear, socks, double thick white coveralls complete with full hood, short gum boots with over socks, gloves and to complete the outfit a tight fitting gas mask. Now off you go and do your manual labour in the desert heat. In my case, and others, off you go on your heated dust producing earthmoving machine and dig out those instruments, clear away that debris. It’s o.k. we’ll stay back here in the air conditioning and make sure all the results of our successful tests are collated and we can pat each other on the back.
Back at the site those funnily dressed colonials are taking off their gas masks to wipe the perspiration from their faces and out of their eyes. If they are not closely supervised they will even take the masks off to work. What of the plant operators, they aren’t supervised, they know what their duties are. Well they take the bloody masks off and roll their overalls down.
Otherwise, without being over dramatic, they will drown in their own perspiration as it fills the mask to the mouth level and any way once the glass eyepieces fill up how can they now see?
And the all pervading fine dust enters and settles on and in every pore of the body. I wonder how this by now known radioactive dust knows not to leave the signed area of the decontamination area. What of the drivers in their vehicles driving up to the fence is the dust they bring in taken back to the village or is the dust that I bring from the contaminated area on my dozer wind blown over the fence onto their trucks. I’m sure the experts have worked this out, no worries. What of the wind storms I suppose there is some way they are made to skirt the village?
Back at the Village all is serene. The mess is filled with backslapping and good cheer. The tests have been a great success, surely royal honours will follow.
And so it continued until the four bombs had been exploded, two on the towers, one from the air and one from ground level.
Once all the instruments and equipment had been recovered from the forward area there was no necessity to keep the Field Squadron at Maralinga. Most of the navy and air force had by now left and it was with little or no regrets that we trooped down to the airfield to board the awaiting Hastings aircraft. The threatened kit inspection didn’t take place so one can but wonder how many radio active souvenirs were packed away in our large aluminum trunks.
Ken Menro
