I arrived by Hasting from Honolulu in the second week of March 1958, and found the Island as it had been described in the UK newspapers. Hot, primitive and smelly !  Over 4” of rain had fallen in the previous 24 hours; the coral roads from airfield to Main Camp were awash and our driver took great delight in roaring through the waves, swerving from side to side in order to crush as many land crabs as possible as they gathered in dozens to eat their comrades who had been killed by other drivers. We were dropped in the transit area to collect a  camp bed (canvas), bedding and a metal meal tray, then allocated a bed space in one of the nearby tents. First job here, under the guidance of a veteran “Grappler” was to go to the stores dump to find wood planking which, placed under the runners of my bed, would lift it higher than the crabs could climb during the night. It was here in the darkness that I somewhat regretted cheering the death of so many roadside crabs during the earlier drive !

    Morning brought heat, noise and sand. I took one of the plastic bowls issued to the tent and joined the queue at the wash stand, a trough under a set of taps which dribbled desalinated water. From here,  across the main road to Port London, to the dining area. A set of marquees alongside a wooden building with a serving-hatch, for a tray full of cornflakes, sausage, egg and a mug of tea. The milk was a water-based powder and the sausage was a strange triangular shape. After breakfast, our small group changed-up into long trousers, long sleeve shirt, sandals and floppy hat (with a metal RAF badge being the only sign of our service)  We had been spared no graphic detail of the awful fate of “Moonies” who had exposed themselves to sunlight in the first week, become “Self-inflicted” unfit, and thrown into the nick. From here we walked to the airfield transport site to climb aboard one of the Bedford "wheelies" for the first day of duty in the Air Traffic Control Unit. Some of our group were attached to the Joint Operations Centre (JOC) situated midway between camp and airfield.

    Gradually, over the next month, I got a little browner and able to strip-off a little more. Shorts, very baggy, replaced the longs. Evening swim sessions at the lagoon helped, though the water was vicious brine which wrecked the eyeballs. Sandals were a menace because they allowed the ankles to bang together; very noticeable were the new boys in the way they walked. Gingerly !  Flip-flops and bright shirts were for evening wear, finished off with a groundsheet for the rainy periods in the open-air cinema (although again it was too easy to stub toes and draw blood when walking in the dark)  The heat, flies, poor food and almost complete lack of resources were only bearable because we were working at a high rate to be ready for the first H-Bomb, due to be dropped upon the island range in mid April.

     The airfield was packed with aircraft. Valiants, Shackletons, Canberras for the Grapple tests. Hastings and Dakotas of  Transport Command, plus Whirlwind helicopters for ASR and an Auster  equipped with spray bars on the anti-fly patrol. Our A.T.C. unit operated from a wooden tower atop a mound. We worked 24 hr. shifts to cater for test flying and the patrol flights which swept a massive area of sea space around the island. The weather was generally poor at this period I remember; torrential rain reduced visibility and called for radar recoveries of inbound aircraft, plus making our lives misery along the coral surfaced roads and in the tent areas.

     Operation Grapple ‘Y’ was the first drop of a weapon onto the Island bomb range rather than a ferry flight of 200 miles to Maldon Island. At this period the world was working towards a complete ban on nuclear tests in the atmosphere, and the British government decided to reduce the delays in Operation Grapple in declaring that it was completely safe to use Christmas Island as the test site. The “Order of Operations” issued to A.T.C. staff before the first test  would rather suggest that nobody quite knew what would happen to the airfield-based staff, placed as we were, some 16 miles from the DZ.

I wrote the following account shortly after the event.

    “On the morning of the 28^th (April 1958) we were up at 0230 hours for breakfast, and by 0400 were in our various positions. I was on duty in the tower, joining my colleagues who had been working overnight. The Shackletons had taken off at 10 minute intervals since midnight, and were then dispersed far and wide over the area. From the Control Point (at J.O.C.) music was relayed over the speakers set about the airfield. It began to rain. The Canberras, coated with anti-radiation paint and equipped as cloud sniffers, were airborne just after dawn. At 0900 the bomb Valiant and its companion were airborne as we kept our fingers crossed for an incident free departure !  (see the ‘D’ Day Operations Order )

     Now with the ground crews, fire and medical personnel and the A.T.C. staff, I squatted on the apron alongside the Tower and listened to the music, instructions and countdown which followed. We were a mob of white-robed figures smoking, talking and watching the contrails as the two Valiants flew along their “race-track” pattern above us.

     The announcement of "Bomb Launch" was the time to turn away and sit with our backs to the DZ. The countdown commenced and, at “minus 10” we covered our eyes. Then "5.4.3.2.1. zero" and a brilliant white light burst through my clenched fists and a burst of heat hit my back almost at the same time. Then followed an unusual silence for a few seconds. The speakers continued their count, prefixed now by “plus”  At 15 seconds we were given clearance to turn and face the bomb site. A tremendous ball of red, shot through with white and black pulsating colours was rolling up into the blue sky. The scene was awesome. Around the edges of the fast rising ball the clouds were rolling away and towards us came a serrated black edge of sound. The speakers warned us to “standby for blast”. Fingers in ears we watched and waited; some turned away from the burst not knowing what to expect. The sound seemed to come from within me but it was all around as well. The palm trees gave evidence of the effect, a whip crack followed by rumbling which rolled over us and diminished. My ears buzzed in the silence which then followed. The cloud now soared above the DZ., a boiling thundercloud shot with yellow and black whilst below we all ran back to our duty positions for the first returning sniffer Canberras. I saw another four tests before leaving the Island in Feb 1959 but this first test is the one that sticks in my memory.