To make matters worse many men began reporting sick. This was not uncommon on long voyages, but the sheer numbers was soon causing concern.
Former crewman Doug Atkinson was an orderly in the sick bay. He recalled: “At first there was just a trickle of men complaining of boils and sores, not that unusual. Then more and more began to be brought down. The sick bays were soon full. Lots of men now had terrible sores and were passing blood. The medics were rushed off their feet and the officers were worried. They tried to keep spirits up, but a lot of men began to blame the bomb tests.”
As rumours about radiation poisoning swept the destroyer, Diana, like a mediaeval plague ship, made full speed for home. Unfortunately, the Gods seem to have deserted Diana. When she reached Aden she found herself marooned for weeks because of the Suez crisis.
In recent years strenuous efforts have been made to trace the 278 crew members on Board Diana at the time. But very few have been found despite extensive publicity in naval magazines and other publications. Most of those found reported sicknesses.
Doug Atkinson suffered spinal disintegration and was confined to a wheelchair. He had a whole body scan at Exeter University to measure radiation in his body. Instead of an average reading of 137, his scan showed a reading of five thousand-plus. Doctors were amazed. He was told that according to the readings he should have glowed in the dark.
Diana’s navigating officer, Lt Commander M.W. Butler died of cancer in 1975. His widow Sheila, of Liskeard, Cornwall, said: “It was a horrible death. My husband was taken from me at the age of 49. But he would never say anything against the Navy. He felt it unseemly for an officer. But he did admit to me once that there had been very little safety precautions to protect the men.”
Margaret Rogers, a Diana widow who had remarried, said her sailor husband John Furlong, died of cancer in 1981. Mrs Rogers of Lanarkstown, Glasgow, said: “John always said he had been affected by the tests, but no-one really believed him. Only when all the publicity came out in 1983, did people finally believe him. Of course it was too late then.”
The Diana incident has never been disputed. Government ministers who have commented on it tended to dismiss it as a one-off experiment on a fully battened down warship with all possible safety precautions in place to protect the men. But three years before Diana steamed into her nuclear fate, another experiment involving a Royal Naval ship and radioactive dust took place just 50 miles off the British coast.
In August 1953, the frigate HMS Starling prepared to leave Portsmouth harbour for what was understood to be a routine dummy anchorage exercise. Everything appeared normal to the crew as they went about their duties. They had carried out similar exercises on many occasions and they had no reason to suspect that anything was different. No new equipment had been taken on board and the officers had not indicated that anything was out of the ordinary.
But about an hour before Starling was due to cast off, a large grey van pulled up alongside the frigate and several men in thick overalls carried aboard a large sealed container. This excited little curiosity from the crew who believed the container was carrying more supplies. Considerable interest was aroused, however, when a large black limousine carrying a group of civilians drew up alongside. The men, dressed in Trilbies and Macintoshes, quietly boarded the Starling which then headed into the Atlantic.
The ship’s grapevine soon identified the mysterious civilians who were berthed with the captain and were rarely seen. It was the famous scientist Sir William Penney and his entourage. What was he doing aboard Starling? Had he brought an atom bomb on board? The men were agog with excitement.
The ship eventually anchored about 50 miles off the North West coast of Scotland. It was a bright, sunny day and most of the crew where on deck. Able seaman Harold Brown and several others were taken to one side and told by an officer they had been assigned some special duties. They were told the ship was about to be bombarded with ‘a spot’ of radioactive dust and they would be required to wash the decks after the experiment was over.
Recalling the incident, Mr Brown said: “It was said very matter-of-factly and we were assured there was absolutely no danger involved. Being young I wasn’t at all worried. I do remember feeling peeved because of the extra duties, but like the rest of the men I was trained not to question orders.”
Soon the men were ordered below deck and the hatches were sealed. As they waited, the heavy rumbling sound of an aircraft flying low was heard. About 30 minutes later, Mr Brown and the other ‘volunteers’ were taken up on deck.
They were given no special clothing to wear and Mr Brown got a soaking from the ship’s sprinkler system which was going full blast. The first thing he noticed was that the decks were covered with a peculiar red-brown dust flecked with grey. Mops and brushes were pushed into their hands and the men got to work swabbing the decks.
Mr Brown said: “This red-brown dust was everywhere and we had to use heavy cotton-wool swabs to remove it from the rails and brass fittings. We were on deck for at least two hours trying to get rid of it all.”
When that was over, the second phase of the experiment took place. The sealed container that had been carried aboard earlier was brought up to the deck. Inside was a mass of dust similar in texture to what had already been washed off the decks. As the men gathered curiously round, large cans of battleship grey paint known as ‘pussers’ was carefully mixed into the radioactive dust.
Mr Brown and his mates were ordered to paint the sides of the ship and the lifeboats with the contaminated mix. Most of the men were brought up on deck for this phase of the operation.
When Starling returned to Portsmouth she did not dock at her usual berth; she was taken to a special dock, well away from the main berths, and covered with canvas. Sprinklers and hoses were played on her for days. Oddly the ship’s log for the period was missing when researchers visited the Public Records Office at Kew to try to verify Mr Brown’s story. The Navy wouldn’t acknowledge the experiment took place.
It goes without saying that the idea of the Navy carrying out a large scale radiation experiment just off the British coast would have caused widespread public alarm. Using young sailors to splash radioactive paint all over the decks shows a criminal disregard for their safety.
Mr Brown was discharged from the Navy on medical grounds two years later. In 1984, he was a very sick man and knew he didn’t have much longer to live. He contacted the Ministry of Defence to ask for a pension so his wife could be looked after once he had gone. It was suggested he had made the whole matter up and was turned down flat. He died in agony some time after that. His widow Susan penned an eloquent eulogy which speaks for itself:-
“My husband was AB Harold Brown DJX566143 RN, and very proud of it. He joined the Navy as a boy of 16. He travelled the seven seas, was attached to the Royal Indian Navy for a while and was in various campaigns including Cyprus. He has three medals for serving his country; he also has a false leg and almost six feet of plastic arteries. He suffered intravascular muscle spasms, had several strokes, skin that erupted for no reason and two heart attacks. Both his eyes had cataracts; he had spondylosis of the spine, and also had to wear a hearing aid. But in July 1953 he was a hale and hearty healthy man, not impotent as he was at 40, with a zest and vim for life. That experiment he was involved with destroyed him completely. But do they care? I think everyone knows the answer.”