Today I'm looking at another derelict nuclear monitoring bunker, and as the title of this post indicates, I've been to quite a few now! The truth is, if you live in the UK, chances are there's a nuclear monitoring bunker within ten miles of you. As explained in the last bunker blog, predictably titled Bunker Sixteen, I've taken to numbering them as I find them, but not traveling out to them specifcally. Don't get me wrong, they're great if they're open. But so often they're padlocked, or even demolished, so traveling out to them is a bit of a gamble. I tend to swing by if I happen to be near one, but I'm not really committed to hunting them down.
Nuclear Monitoring Bunkers were set up across the UK during the Cold War, which was perhaps one of the scariest points in humanitys history. Even scarier than the Spice Girls reunion.
The Cold War is named such because there was no actual fighting involved, but there was a lot of tension between countries following the creation of nuclear bombs, in particular the US and Russia.
Nobody really knew what to do, but nevertheless, the powers-that-be were trying to be proactive without being aggressive and provoking full-on nuclear war. The best anyone could do was take precautions and make sure our defences were at least upgraded. These nuclear monitoring bunkers were a part of that. Over a thousand subterranean monitoring posts were installed across the British countryside, each one identical, each equipped to monitor for nuclear blasts, communicate with other posts, and in the event of a nuclear strike, provide temporary accomodation for the staff stationed there.
While the government did promise to restore the land to how they found it once the bunkers were no longer needed, most of them were just left to slowly decay.
As I said, getting out to these bunkers is always a gamble. They're usually out in the countryside, and they could be locked, welded shut, or flat out demolished. If they're unlocked and accessible, it's very rare that they'll be in good condition. This one has no hatch, meaning it's been further exposed to the elements, so I wasn't expecting anything too pristine. However it's still crazy to think that in this random field is a derelict nuclear bunker that was once active and playing a role in our countries defence.
They're pretty much only noticeable by the surface features- the air vent and the tube, which the staff would have pushed the fixed survey meter up to count the radioactive particles in the air. Unless one knows what to look for, people could walk past on a daily basis and never actually know what they're looking at.
To me the fact that it's hidden in plain sight is mindblowing.
Also present near this particular bunker is something that I've never seen before, called an Orlit. There are two types of these things, named Orlit A and Orlit B. The only difference between the two was that the Orlit B is on stilts.
The Orlits were aircraft monitoring posts, designed to monitor enemy aircraft should they come by.
My publicist tells me that I'm wrong about the Orlits though- we had no enemies during the Cold War, he says. So what aircraft are they supposed to be looking out for, then? Ryanair?? Perhaps he thinks that during an era where everyone was afraid of nukes that Orlits were built to watch out for angry racist pensioners.
I dunno, maybe he's confusing the Cold War with a splashing fight in a freezing outdoor swimming pool.
As always I decided to trust Wikipedia instead.
No, we didn't fight any enemies during the Cold War, but the whole premise was built on the heavily held belief that the enemies were out there and the apocalypse could be around the corner. An Orlit was a precautionary measure that, after World War 2, it would be stupid not to do.
But while the Orlits were proposed in 1947, they weren't actually built until around 1951. Given how exposed it is to the elements, this one is surprisingly sturdy.
The Orlits did predate the bunkers. Initially it seems that the priority was aircraft monitoring, but as the Cold War escalated, the priorities moved underground.
This is the view from the roof into the Orlit. The Orlit was divided into two segments, a store room and the observation room. Of the two, only the store room has an actual roof, while the observation room had a removable cover. On the central pillar was a Plotting Chart, used to monitor the course of the aircraft in question. And thanks to the wonders of the internet, I have here a photo of a manned Orlit back in its glory days.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
That should give you some idea. But today the Orlit and the nearby bunker are little more than derelict field ornaments. Its proud history has been forgotten and now it's a climbing frame, from which I can view the nearby bunker...
The bunker was constructed in 1959 and decomissioned in 1968. Older photos of this exist, from around 2000 and taken from the same spot, which curiously show the boulder on the other side of the access shaft, next to the detached hatch which was lying on the grass. It seems improbable that in eighteen years the boulder would move due to natural reasons. I suspect that at one point it may have been used to pin the hatch down or block the shaft, but has since been moved. The hatch itself is gone.
To my relief, the ladder supported my weight. Since 1968 it's had no maintenance and been exposed to the elements, so I was aware that the ladder might not be stable and could collapse as I climbed it. So far this has never happened to me, but the ladder in the bunker in Church Stretton was barely hanging on, and sagged as I climbed, so I'm always wary of the possibility. If the ladder were to break, there would be no way out, and I'd have no phone signal. On the plus side, if a bomb were to drop, I might be alright. Silver linings!
Luckily it wasn't flooded.
This pump would have been used to remove water from the bunker. It's not in good shape.
The bunker itself is atmospheric, decayed enough but retaining enough to make it interesting. The workers would have sat at this desk, and the wall would have been covered in maps and communications equipment.
The main objective would be to record the details of a nuclear blast, such as the force, the proximity, and whatnot, and then report it. Now allegedly the huge flaw in the plan was that the technology was so primitive it was said to not even be able to record radiation in Chernobyl, but that could just be hearsay. The people who were stationed here are often proud of their work, and let's be honest, it's a noble profession. But more than that, imagine being stationed here in the event of a nuclear strike. It would mean living here, with at least one extra person, in remarkably cramped conditions. There's not a lot of people who could do it. Think of your most annoying work colleague, and now imagine living with them in here. Could you do it? Or would you be adding that colleague to the food rations?
The bunks are still here, as is the hatch door! But by far the most intriguing aspect of this bunker is the graffiti.
The Clash, Thin Lizzy, Baccara... These aren't the names of teenagers scribbled on a wall, these are bands. Some of them are repeated. Why has someone written a load of bands on the inside of a nuclear bunker? Okay, fair enough, Abba is there, and nothing makes me feel like the world is ending quite like Abba.
I'm serious, there's something genuinely ominous about Abbas music. Every time I hear it, I cant help but feel like shits about to go down. I'd listen to Abba if I was trying to hype myself up for a fight or something.
This thing at the back is the air vent. It's designed to close so that in the event of a nuclear strike, contaminated air wont come down.
Thats about it for this bunker. It's far from the best, but it's not the worst. With the hatch still present, albeit detached, it could actually be fixed up. Personally I think that if one of these was fixed up it would make a cosy little home-from-home, assuming you've never seen The Hole. I have, and I'm glad Thora Birch isn't my friend, that's for sure. Although having said that I'd rather be friends with Thora Birch than watch another Transformers movie, but then I'd rather have syphilis than watch another Transformers movie. But I digress!
If I owned land that had one of these on it, I wouldn't let it go to waste. I find situations like this really saddening, because someone owns the land that this bunker is on. Do something with it. Fix it up and put it on Airbnb or something. Heck, someone on Airbnb was renting out a caravan stuck in a tree for £10 a night! Anything goes on Airbnb! To me, it's baffling that these Cold War relics are just left lying around, derelict. They're museums in their own right, testimonies to an era that for some wasn't that long ago.
My next blog post will be one of Shropshires lost pubs, but in the mean time, if you missed it, I started another blog of non-Shropshire locations, which you can find here. Also share this blog wherever you want, Like my Facebook Page, follow my Instagram, Subscribe to my Youtube and follow my Twitter.
Thanks for reading!
as an x roc member i can tell you the orlit predates the underground bunker , we stopped using them when we switched rolls and went below , times had changed by the late fiftys and montoring aircraft was the least of our prioritys , that was done by rotor , our main task was montoring and reporting the effects of a nuclear blast and its fallout , ROC Group No 7 - Bedford over and out
ReplyDeleteBrilliant! Thanks! I'll edit some of that into the blog.
Deletepleaseure to help with info , people always muddle up the two periods and just assume we were still observing planes during the cold war, not much chance of that from 12 feet below ground , thanks gerry
Delete