Alan Rimmer
BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL
To my wife Maryse for her loyalty, love and support.
Author’s Note
This book is dedicated to the thousands of nuclear veterans and their families whose selfless courage, dignity and kindness made it possible. I would like to acknowledge the contributions of Ken McGinley who has tirelessly campaigned on behalf of Britain’s nuclear veterans; Mrs Shirley Denson, for her indomitable courage and determination; Archie Ross, whose Damascene conversion was an inspiration to all; Roy Sefton, New Zealand nuclear veteran, whose lone battle showed the way; Mrs June Charney and all the other widows of nuclear veterans who refused to allow their husband’s memories to fade. I would also like to thank John Urquhart, statistician and epidemiologist, for his invaluable advice and encouragement, and John Large, nuclear scientist, for his technical expertise, and patience. I would like to pay tribute to the late Professor Michael Moore and Nobel Laureate Joseph Rotblat for their inside knowledge of Lord Penney and the men who built the atomic bomb; the late doctors Alice Stewart and Rosalie Bertell for their unceasing quest to expose the truth; and to the late Richard Stott, journalist and editor who never gave up on the nuclear veterans. But most of all, this book is for the children, grandchildren, and the children yet to be born who will be paying the price for mankind’s folly unto the end of time.
INTRODUCTION
The small military convoy drove cautiously through the village of Wansford as it threaded its way to Bomber Command’s Armament School at RAF Wittering in Cambridgeshire. It was snowing heavily and visibility was down to 50 yards. As the vehicles exited the village they faced a steep climb up Wansford Hill. Without warning a large Foden truck, its contents shielded by a black tarpaulin, began to fishtail as the wheels lost traction in the tightly-packed snow. The driver struggled to control the heavy vehicle but it slithered remorselessly to the side of the road mounted the kerb and toppled over into a ditch. The driver leapt from the cab and held his breath as he stared down at the stricken truck; the tarpaulin had been dislodged during the crash revealing a large packing case. Through the slats the man could make out the sinister outline of an enormous bomb.
Sir William Penney, Britain’s master bomb-maker, was flown off the island at dawn, which was just as well because, as feared, something went badly wrong. The huge bomb, codename Grapple Y, was much bigger than expected. The blast wave scattered troops like leaves before the wind, and the fantastic heat of the explosion made the blood bubble beneath their skin, even at a distance of 30 miles. It also created a hellish thunderstorm that produced a curtain of sizzling radioactive rain. Thousands of men got caught in the downpour. Within hours many experienced nausea and vomiting; some coughed blood up; others were blinded and their skin erupted in blisters.
The scientists and military planners acted quickly to suppress the news. This was after all the Cold War, and with nuclear Armageddon just a heartbeat away, secrecy was paramount. Official observers specially flown in to view the event were assured there was no fallout, before being hastily removed from the island back to the safety of their base in Honolulu. Politicians in London announced the test was a success and that the results were “gratifying” to the scientists. The public was told in a routine statement that it was a “clean” bomb and that all the troops were safe.
No-one worried overmuch about the troops. None as far as is known was killed instantly by the blast, and their sudden afflictions were easily explained away as “coral poisoning”. The real effects of the bomb in disease and death would not become apparent for many years, and the authorities knew it would be virtually impossible to make a connection.
Penney, the “Father of the British H-bomb” observed the crowning achievement of his career from the cockpit of a Dakota aircraft circling the island. He had a grandstand view of the explosion, the huge mushroom cloud that accompanied it, and the towering thunderclouds that formed in its wake. By the time the deadly rain came, he was on his way to safety to an island 400 miles to the south.
He would never make a bigger or better bomb. Grapple Y was a thousand times the size of the Hiroshima bomb and its awesome power ensured Britain’s place at the top table of international politics alongside America and the Soviet Union. Penney was showered with honours, and after a distinguished academic career, retired to a chocolate-box cottage nestling in the heart of the Oxfordshire countryside. Grapple Y, his legacy, was allowed to disappear into the sealed archives of government, consigned to just a minor footnote in history.
Penney, a mathematical genius, was marked down as a high-flyer in World War II when his unique talents took him from backroom boffin at the Ministry of Supply, to America where he became one of the chief architects of the atomic bomb. He was a reluctant recruit to this apocalyptic venture and like all the other scientists had deep misgivings about the possible consequences.
But a capricious twist of fate guided one of Hitler’s new terror weapons to Penney’s modest home in Croydon, South London with disastrous results. Any doubts that he may have had disappeared along with the tragedy that befell his beloved wife.
THE SMILING KILLER
June 29, 1944.
Auckland Road, Croydon, London,
An eyewitness described it thus: “I saw a sphere of flame hurtling earthwards like a football on fire. This was followed by a bright flash and a frightful roar…”
It was a V1 flying bomb, the first of hundreds to rain down on London as Hitler unleashed a new blitzkrieg. The V1, with a 2,000 pound payload of high explosive, landed in the road outside 108 and 110 Auckland Road. Both houses were demolished in the blast and scores were damaged over a quarter mile radius. A local church was destroyed; shredded bibles and hymn books were discovered as far away as Streatham.
The raid had started at dawn. The official log states:-
04.23: A V1 totally demolished eight houses in Gibbs Close, not far from Auckland Road. More than 40 houses were severely damaged.
08.04: On the corner of Central Hill and Hermitage Road a V1 exploded in the air. Houses and Norwood Cottage Hospital were badly damaged.
11.07: V1 strikes the corner of Sylvan Hill and Auckland Road. Details of damage in this area were not released because of “military restrictions.” One of the houses at the site, 159, Auckland Road, was the home of Mrs Adele Minnie Penney, wife of Dr William Penney. The extent of the damage to the house is unknown, but Mrs Penney was alone as the doodlebugs exploded all around.
There is no record of her physical injuries, but her mind couldn’t cope with the horror and she suffered a breakdown. The news was broken to her husband in America and arrangements were made for him to be flown home under military escort. Meanwhile Mrs Penney, aged 31, was admitted to Warlingham Park Hospital in Surrey. Set in acres of lush grounds, it was listed as a hospital for nervous disorders, but to the locals it was the place where the mad people went.
Mrs Penney was put under the care of Dr William Shepley, the Deputy Superintendent, and Dr Joyce Martin, a leading Freudian analyst. She was treated in a special complex called ‘The Villas’ where she received psychotherapy and electro-convulsive shock treatment.
When her husband finally arrived, Mrs Penney didn’t recognize him; she was living in a twilight world. Her mental and physical condition was deteriorating rapidly. The doctors were not hopeful. They told the young husband with the tousled fair hair that everything possible was being done. Penney decided not to take up an invitation to view the “barrow squad”, a collection of inmates in various chairs who were habitually wheeled about the grounds to show visitors the patients were getting some useful activity.