Добрый вечер, мальчуки и девочки
Todays blog is numbered, because honestly, I can't come up with original blog titles for bunkers. I've had "Immaculate Bunker", "Lost Bunker", and "Garden Bunker." This is the sixteenth one I've ever been to, and I decided to name is accordingly rather than title my blog, "Fuck it, it's a bunker." However, it's only the eighth I've been able to blog about, which is disappointing and reflects on just how much of a gamble it is to travel out to these things.
It might surprise you to know that no matter where you live in the UK, there's a good chance that there is, or was, a small nuclear bunker near you. Unless you can recognise or even see the surface features, you might even pass them on a regular basis.
These bunkers, best described as "Nuclear monitoring posts" came about as a result of the sudden revelation in 1945 that our continued existence was all dependant on whether or not an enemy country wasn't pissed off and trigger happy. I am, of course, refering to Nuclear Weapons, the game changer of the 20th Century. We rode to war on horseback in 1914, and emerged from the shitstorm with tanks, jets, concentration camps and the power to destroy the world. There's nothing like a couple of world wars to push a species forward technologically. It's not all bad- a lot of Nazi scientists were offered work in the US and Russia in exchange for having their crimes forgotten, and that's why we now have microwaves, velcro, antidepressants, fanta, and rumour has it, sex dolls, to name a few things.
But that's not what this blog is about! All this Nazi talk is reich outside mein kampfort zone. On with the nuclear weapons!
So the governments of the world were clenched so tight that when they farted only dogs could hear them, and this shit wasn't secret- the public knew too. The Cold War came into full swing, with tensions between Russia and the US, with our diddy little country in between them. The government had to look like they were doing something. In truth, they didn't really know what they could do. Have you ever seen a Cold War leaflet about what to do in a nuclear strike? Well you'd never have the chance to if you actually did what they suggest during a nuclear strike, because you'd be joining that leaflet in an ashtray, and nobody would be able to tell you apart. But ultimately, for the sake of public peace of mind, the powers that be had to at least look like they were doing something constructive.
So in the 1960s, the government had 1,563 subterranean posts installed throughout the UK, each one equipped to monitor nuclear blasts and communicate to the other posts. They were also equipped to be lived in if the need arose, and those stationed here were given instructions on food rationing in the event of a nuclear apocalypse, and also instructions on how to build traps and cooking equipment should they need to survive in a post apocalypse wasteland.
Nowadays, a lot of these bunkers are sealed up, and some are demolished. Very occasionally, however, I find one that isn't.
As you can see, this one is hidden away in nature, covered in moss and consequentially ridiculously easy to overlook. However I've had a few years of looking for these things, so to me the surface features stick out like a person with good personal hygiene on the Jeremy Kyle show.
This little pipe is actually a chute called the FSM tube. FSM stands for Fixed Survey Meter, and is basically for inserting a nifty piece of tech that would count the radioactive molecules in the air following a nuclear strike, so the people down below would know if it was safe to leave.
This particular post was opened in 1965 and decomissioned only a few years later in 1968. Since then it's had absolutely no maintenance. There's no phone signal down there and the only way in and out is a fifteen foot ladder in the ground. Only a complete nutcase would assume this ladder was safe to traverse. And you're in luck, because I am a nutcase.
At the bottom of the shaft is a pump, which presumably was used to stop the bunker from flooding. I'm told that it's quite difficult to find these in good condition, due to the wooden handles decaying over time, but this one seems okay. It's probably non-fucntional but it's probably fixable.
This cupboard would have contained a toilet, which was little more than a bucket with a seat on it. It's been removed. However, it was probably still in better condition than toilets in some pubs and clubs.
The actual bunker itself is this diddy room. Usually there's a bunk bed, but this one has a third bed too.
The left hand wall would have been lined with desks and communication equipment, for the people who were stationed here. With the inclusion of three beds, it must have been cramped! In 1968, all of the expensive communication equipment was cleared out, as were the desks apparently. The beds being left is curious but hardly surprising. Imagine if your job was to empty this place out, and you had to lug these things up a fifteen foot ladder in a narrow shaft. You've already been up and down the ladder ninety times with communications equipment, chairs, desks and a toilet. It's the end of the day, you just want to go home, and once that hatch is shut nobody will ever come back to check. Leaving the beds behind totally makes sense.
But looking at how cramped this area is, imagine being stationed down here with two other people in the event of a nuclear holocaust. Even if those two people weren't the most annoying people in the world when the bomb dropped, by the time it's safe to go outside, they might well be.
It seems at some point over the last few decades the local kids found this place and made it into some kind of den, scrawling "Danger Zone" on the door.
Here's the FSM tube in the ceiling. There would have once been a cap to screw over this.
There's still bedding here.
And look! There's an old dartboard. But was this down here when the place was operational, or was it brought down here when the locals turned it into a base?
Here's a dart on the floor, amongst the considerably more modern litter.
On the back wall is a closeable air vent.
And under the bed, quite morbidly, is what appears to be a rodent carcass, presumably a rat, judging by the size. I did feel sorry for it. These bunkers are basically concrete rooms that are built, lowered into the ground, and then burried. There's no way for an animal to tunnel into it. This rat must have fallen down the ventilation or access shaft, and starved down here. It's a horrible way to die. I have a soft spot for rats, being the owner of two adorable little ones, named Zaphod and Megatron, who also have their own Instagram page.
That's it for this bunker though. It's quietly tucked away in the Shropshire countryside, gathering dust, and attracting the occasional trespasser. These things are everywhere, dotted over the countryside as silent testament to a scarier time when nobody knew what was going on and everyone was quite concerned. Today, the majority of people have grown up in a world where nuclear weapons just exist, and we didn't experience the sudden shift in status quo. Somehow we take it for granted.
But for over half a century we've lived in a world where nukes exist, and regardless of where you stand politically, regardless of whether or not the person in power is the one you voted for, it seems naive to assume that humanity will go for all eternity without some cocksplatt pushing the wrong button. So what's the plan? Because I guarantee all the rich and powerful people have plans. Don't you?
Anyway, share this blog where you want, like my Facebook page, follow my Instagram, subscribe to my Youtube, and follow my Twitter. Next time, I'm in Telford, and then because my blog has a terribly inaccurate name and I want to piss all over it, I'm off to Birmingham for an adventure there.
Thanks for reading!
