He recalled: “My sister and her family have suffered most dreadfully. When her husband was diagnosed with cancer he was treated appallingly. The Army treated him like a pariah because he blamed his presence on Christmas Island for his illness, and the doctors made him feel like a fool. Neither he nor his wife was given any help or support. She nursed him until he died. And he died a very bitter man because of the things that had happened to his children.”
The couple’s first child, conceived soon after he came home, lived only for an hour. The child had no top to its head and was deformed. The next child seemed to be OK, but the joy was short-lived. Blood tests revealed the baby, a son, had an incurable type of leukaemia. He is being kept alive on drugs, but his mother has been told it is only a matter of time. As if that wasn’t enough, their third child, a little girl, was born with a hair-lip and cleft palate.
Many other families of veterans displayed a similar reluctance to talk. It went a long way to providing an explanation why the scandal had remained concealed for so many years.
These people simply had no desire for their agony to be resurrected once again, especially in the columns of a newspaper or the flickering light of a TV screen. Nevertheless, enough people decided the time had come to speak out.
Archie Ross, who was at Grapple Y had been skeptical about the possible adverse health effects. He just did not believe the bomb was responsible for the cataracts on his eyes, or the terrible suffering endured by his malformed daughter.
It took a remarkable coincidence and a bit of detective work to convince him. Overnight he turned from doubting Thomas to believer. His conversion began with a telephone call to an old RAF colleague whom he had not seen since they were together on Christmas Island in 1958.
Mr Ross recalls: “I was 23-yrs-old and newly married and I faced the prospect of a year under canvas on this fly-blown desert island. But I didn’t have much time to moan. I arrived on November 4th 1957 and four days later I witnessed the most impressive and terrifying device I will ever see, the detonation of the hydrogen bomb.
“But I had great trust in my superiors and also in the British Government and scientists. I believed they would never send men into a situation that was suspect, or dangerous, or untried without being certain it was all safe, sound and secure.
“I served my time reluctantly, but with ever hopeful prospect of returning home safely to the new adventure of married life. I wished and worked like all the other men who worked with me, the time away. Having spent all but three days short of a year, I returned home in November 1958 to as near a normal life as possible in H.M. forces, and went about my life.
“On 11th April 1960, my wife gave birth to a little girl, Julie, and the grief of finding this tiny tot malformed was indescribable. The cause? No-one could say; no-one understood. The doctors said it was an act of God, but a few people suggested it could have been as a result of Christmas Island.
“I was totally, but totally unconvinced. As far as I was concerned there was absolutely no reason for it to be Christmas Island. There was nothing wrong with me. I was unaffected. Julie’s condition was simply hard luck. An accident. An act of God.
“In any event, we were far too concerned about our daughter to be worried about why she had been born that way. Our tiny child, at the age of two years, commenced a series of 16 major operations, ending at the age of 17.
“The people at Great Ormond Street Hospital for sick children were marvelous. They were so kind to our little girl who hated operations, who arrived sometimes twice a year pale-faced with fear, who tried to smile, desperately and bravely, hoping the operation would be cancelled, but still going through with it.
“There was a lot of talk of thalidomide at the time, but never about Julie. We were on our own; there was no comfort in knowledge, nothing to blame. No-one knew what caused Julie to be malformed.
“Then things started to go wrong with my own health. At the age of 45 I began to have very itchy eyes. At the age of 47, my eyelashes began to grow into my eyes. At 48 the nuisance became an ordeal. Then a young doctor noticed skin adhesions in my right eye. It soon developed into my left eye. He sent me to a specialist who told me he didn’t know what was causing the problem and that he had never seen it in anyone of my age.
“The specialist asked me questions and he became very interested when I mentioned Christmas Island. He said bright, flashing lights could have caused my problem. He told me of the nuclear veterans association and advised me to contact them. I felt I would be better advised seeking another specialist, which I did. To my surprise he also advised me to contact the association, so I did.
“I spoke to the British Nuclear Tests Veterans’ Association and I told them I was extremely sceptical. They suggested I should contact one or two of my old comrades from Christmas Island. I was impressed by the fact they did not try to force opinions on me, so I decided to do a bit of detective work.
“After many weeks I located one old chum from Christmas Island who was still serving with the RAF. He had travelled with me to the island. We shared a tent, worked together and travelled back together.
“When I telephoned, he was not at home, so I introduced myself to his wife whom I’d never met. Without divulging any of my problems I enquired after my old comrade. ‘How’s he getting on these days?’ I asked.
“‘Very well indeed,’ came the reply.
“‘It’s years since I last saw him. Is he still fairly fit?’
“‘Oh yes, he’s OK… except for the fact he’s been experiencing eye trouble since he was 40.’
“‘Really? In what way?’
“‘Cataracts. First one eye, then the other. He is waiting for another operation now.’
“‘Good grief,’ I said. ’I am sorry. Is everyone else OK?’
“‘Yes, we have two sons both of whom are healthy,’ she said. ‘Have you any children?’
“‘Three,’ I replied. ‘The eldest one unfortunately was malformed at birth, but after a traumatic youth she really has turned out to be a super lass and I am extremely proud of her. She has adjusted very well.’
“‘How strange,’ came the reply. ‘Our first child was deformed and died soon after birth.’
“Her reply hit me like a bombshell. After 27 years of many painful and miserable experiences with Julie, the penny finally dropped. It was just too much of a coincidence; the atomic bomb had to be responsible for her suffering.
“I felt myself becoming very angry. I thought of all the fine, healthy, strong young men who were sent out to the bomb tests. Those fit, trusting young men. Young men who were never given a choice. They trusted their government. They trusted their superiors. They trusted the scientists. And most of us trusted in God.
“The reward? A long, lingering, wasting death for many. Leaving wives with children. Many of those children have died. Many of those children are deformed. I was appalled and sickened. There was no doubt in my mind. The atomic bomb was responsible and we had been conned and lied to for 30 years.”
Many more came forward from every corner of the country with similar heart-wrenching stories.
In the tiny village of Llanymddyfri, near Swansea, Mrs Margaret Basey, had never doubted the insidious effects of the bomb tests. She spoke after she put her ‘baby son’ to bed. Her ‘baby’ was Stephen and he was a fully grown man aged 22 years.
He had been born with crippling physical malformations and was severely mentally handicapped. Stephen was unable to perform the simplest of tasks, and needed constant care and attention But with a devotion only a mother can give, Mrs Basey was coping as best she could.