When he first sensed the flash, Alfred Fielding thought he’d gone blind. For a minute, he could see nothing, and then the sky lit up. ‘I thought it was a volcano exploding … You can’t describe it. It was a massive ball of fire. And then a deafening roar.’
It was 1952, and it wasn’t a volcanic eruption Alfred had witnessed, but the detonation of the Britain’s first nuclear weapon. The bomb had been placed in the hull of a Royal Navy frigate, HMS Plym, moored off Trimouille Island, Western Australia. As Alfred’s eyesight returned, he looked out and realized the ship was gone. ‘The awful power of that explosion […] had vaporized 1,300 tons of steel in two seconds.’
Five years later, my grandfather, Leading Aircraftman Gerry Bowler was posted to Christmas Island, a small atoll in the Pacific. He was one of an estimated 21,000 servicemen who took part in Britain’s atmospheric nuclear testing programme on Christmas and Malden Islands in the South Pacific and at several sites in Australia between 1952 and 1958 – a period of escalating nuclear rivalry between the United States and the Soviet Union.
Gerry Bowler, centre, on Christmas Island in 1958, alongside other British nuclear test veterans from the Royal Airforce. Photo: Courtesy of Fiona Bowler
The programme boosted the power of Britain’s nuclear arsenal, leading in 1958 to the successful testing of a hydrogen bomb – the most powerful weapon yet. In the years since, many veterans have argued that their time at test sites caused a variety of health conditions, including cancer, infertility and hereditary diseases passed down to children and grandchildren. In 1990, my grandfather died from a brain tumour at 60, believing it to have been the result of his exposure to radiation at Christmas Island.
It wasn’t just British servicemen who suffered. Over the past 80 years, more than 2,000 nuclear weapons tests have taken place around the world, more than 500 of which were atmospheric. These detonations have permanently raised levels of strontium 90 and other dangerous nuclear isotopes in our atmosphere.
The impact has been particularly severe for indigenous populations in Australia, the Pacific islands and countries that were part of the former Soviet Union, who saw their lands irradiated. In some cases, the land will remain uninhabitable for thousands of years. Although Britain, the United States and the USSR ceased atmospheric nuclear testing in 1963 after the passage of the Limited Test Ban Treaty, other countries, including France and China, continued until 1996.
Among the thousands of lives affected by the tests, the story of British veterans is particularly personal to me, shaping my family history – and my career as a nuclear historian. Over the past nine years, my research has focused on bringing the true human cost of nuclear testing to light.
As part of these efforts, I’ve worked with historians Chris Hill, Jon Hogg and Josh Bushen from the University of South Wales and the University of Liverpool to interview Britain’s remaining nuclear test veterans, whose testimonies tell of the enduring mark the Christmas Island detonations left on their lives.
Mounting health costs
In the decades since, many have fought a long and difficult battle to seek recognition and compensation for their experience. Although safety procedures developed over the course of Britain’s nuclear test programme, access to protective equipment including flash suits and goggles was inconsistent, with some servicemen saying they were given no protection at all. In some cases, military leaders even revised radiation safety guidelines to allow for improved data collection.
Veterans have claimed this resulted in excessive exposure, with them beginning to suffer from associated health problems in the decades that followed. Gordon Coggon contracted cancer and diabetes following his deployment to Christmas Island. ‘It’s one thing piled on another, and you think to yourself, why is this happening? Is it because of the bomb? I mean, it must be, because things don’t happen so often like this usually, you know, medically. The fact that other people have said that their kids have inherited it, makes it ten-times worse,’ he said.
While a recent study at Brunel University found no evidence of increased genetic damage in the children of nuclear-test veterans, many continue to report a variety of disorders in their descendants, which they attribute to radiation exposure.
Fight for justice
From the late 1950s, demands for justice and compensation from the British government began to grow. These included a series of individual appeals for war pensions by Christmas Island veterans, and the launch of legal challenges against the government and Ministry of Defence. In 1998, two veterans and the daughter of another took the government to the European Court of Human Rights, alleging that servicemen were exposed to radiation for experimental purposes. The case was ultimately unsuccessful. Later, in 2012, the Supreme Court narrowly ruled that more than 1,000 veterans could not sue the Ministry of Defence because they missed the legal time limit to bring their case.
Gerry Bowler, pictured on Christmas Island in 1958, later suffered from a brain tumour which he believed to have been as a result of his exposure to radiation during his deployment. Photo: Courtesy of Fiona Bowler.
The British government’s formal position is that the War Pensions Scheme already provides no-fault compensation for disorders causally linked to service. But the process for assessing claims hasn’t been straightforward. Following my grand-father’s death in 1990, my grandmother applied for a war widow’s pension, which was rejected later that year on the grounds that his cancer was more likely to have been caused by a lifelong smoking habit.
Her experience was far from unique. Her fight for justice brought her into contact with other nuclear test veterans, such as Ken McGinley, who were struggling to access any form of recognition or compensation. McGinley, who suffered from stomach problems following his time on Christmas Island, wrote to my grandmother in March of 1990. ‘I wonder how much longer the powers that be are going to “play” with our lives?’ he wrote, ‘When will they realize we are human beings and not just numbers on a piece of paper to be juggled about at will?’ In the 1980s, McGinley established the British Nuclear Test Veterans Association and spent the next four decades fighting for justice for Britain’s test veterans until his death in June 2024.
Despite these efforts, veteran groups have yet to secure a comprehensive compensation scheme from the British government. Frustration deepened after the passage of the US’s Radiation Exposure Compensation Act in 1990 which provides payments for a list of health conditions to individuals – including British service personnel – who were present at American nuclear tests. Hopes for a similar UK programme were dashed when a Private Member’s Bill to that effect was defeated in the Commons in 1990.
Today, all claims for compensation still go through the War Pension Scheme, in which veterans and their families must ‘prove beyond reasonable doubt’ that their service caused or worsened a condition using ‘reliable evidence’. McGinley had argued that this process was inconsistent and challenging, leaving veterans without justice.
After Gerry’s death in 1990, his wife applied for a war widows pension which was later rejected. Many nuclear test veterans are still waiting for comprehensive compensation from the British government. Photo: Courtesy of Fiona Bowler.
Too little, too late?
In recent years, the plight of British nuclear test veterans has gained greater political visibility. In one of his last acts as prime minister in September 2022, Boris Johnson urged the incoming government to approve a medal for test veterans. Two months later, the Sunak government officially launched the award. Commenting on the announcement, Grant Shapps, defence secretary at the time, praised veterans, and stated that ‘the service and dedication of our nuclear test veterans is vitally important to the continued safety and security of our nation’.
Reactions among veterans to the medal have been mixed. Many have argued that it has done little to address their continued concerns about exposure risk. John Simes, another Christmas Island veteran, told me in 2024: ‘What I would like to know is the truth. The medal doesn’t tell us the truth. The truth has been covered up, in my opinion.’
