In the early 1980s a group of women marched from Cardiff to Greenham Common. This was in response to the nuclear arms where one of the sites for US cruise missiles was RAF Greenham common. At the time I was at the University of California, Berkeley, studying for my PhD. My mum, ever alert for war after being made homeless after the first mass raid on London in 1940 kept me posted on this group of amazing women and the peace camp that ensued.
Greenham Common
In 1983 and 1984 I travelled back to the UK at times visiting my parents and Greenham common women’s peace camp. My first time at the camp I settled at Orange gate, one of the gates to the base; labelled by the women according to colours of the rainbow. I saw a tarp draped over trees, sheltering a space where women were sitting talking. A fire burned on the cold afternoon. Space was made for me, and I joined them. There were British, Dutch, German women and Shirley. Shirley was a street trader of Telegraph Avenue, Berkeley. We laughed at the coincidence. I talked and walked with Shirley, and I vowed to visit her on Telegraph Avenue. I learned about many imaginative excursions across the wire into the base. People across the world were learning about US cruise missiles stationed in the UK and ideas, actions and peace camps were multiplying in different counties.
Summer/ Fall, 1984 Greenham Common comes to California
Back in Berkeley finding others who shared my rage on the proliferation of nuclear weapons was not difficult, even before the age of wifi and mobile phones. San Francisco and Berkeley were a major centre for opposition to the Vietnam war and wars in Central America. Through leaflets, peace and activism newspapers, community peace centres and listening to independent public radio, I found names of women to contact.
I met Lena, an activist and feminist. She had been a fundraiser for feminist radical causes, and she had stayed several times at Greenham Common. We talked, walked, she introduced me to others. The Alameda Naval Air Station, in the vicinity of Berkeley and San Francisco, had nuclear weapons and weapons were sent from to arm the Contras who were trying to overthrow the government of Nicaragua.
Lena and I started the Alameda Peace camp. Our reception in the area ranged from tooting of car horns, waves, thumbs up, to abuse and rocks thrown at us.
The base of the Naval Air Station jutted out into the bay. One day I walked around the perimeter fence until it petered out to be replaced by rocks bordering the bay. With a little scrambling I was able to gain access to the inner areas of the base. I saw people jogging and simply joined them. Although wearing a skirt and flip flops I went unchallenged. Wow, this would be easier than Greenham Common; I wouldn’t even need bolt-cutters!
Gate crash 1984
Lena and I went on a more detailed recce. Clambering across the rocks we entered the base, avoiding scrutiny by jogging. The day was 4 July, American Independence Day. It was a beautiful sunny day. We explored the buildings and layout inside the base, keeping note of the mapping of buildings. Hot and sweaty we jogged towards the main gate of the base. We saw a party, of course 4 July celebrations. We looked at each other, nodded, and walked into the party. “Have a beer” someone called out! “Fabulous, just the thing after a jog”. We chatted, joked, had a beer, a hamburger. Then, cheery goodbyes and a walk, heads up, out of the main gates of the base. We had very successfully gate crashed a party at the US base.
August 1984 Naval Air Station, California
On Hiroshima day a group of women entered the base by walking across the rocks surrounding the bay to our entrance area. We each clutched a handful of leaflets and posted them through mailboxes in the housing blocks. The leaflets were ‘from’ the commander of the base informing all people that at the time the bombs dropped on Hiroshima there would be two-minute silence. We were surprised how far we got. We later heard that the commander’s office kept getting calls enquiring about the two-minute silence.
At the same time boats from the Bay Area Peace Navy had crossed from San Francisco, moored, and people scrambled up the rocks and climbed a munitions silo. They unfurled a huge banner saying, “Nuclear Weapons stored here”. We had alerted the press.
The arresting officers were very calm. We were held in a building on the base. I studied my toes intently having decided to keep my English accent to myself. I did this for hours, though this was a false security. We were arrested.
The news coverage following our break-in and banner display was more than I thought possible. We achieved our goal of alerting people from the San Francisco Bay area about the deadly war machinery at the Alameda Naval Air station.
On 30 November 1984, we were found guilty of trespass. We had a six-month conditional discharge and 15-month community service. It was agreed that we had served the community service by our work on promoting peace. This worked well, because by this time I was starting a post doctor fellowship at the University of Wales in Cardiff.
As war footing increases worldwide talk of a return of US Cruise missiles to the UK is already triggering a non-violent response.
According to Dr Kate Hudson, CND General Secretary
“A ten-day peace camp and vigil at RAF Lakenheath has done much to raise public awareness and opposition to the imminent return of US nuclear weapons to the air base, with all the terrible dangers that would bring”.
Hiroshima
On this day, the sun Appeared- no, not slowly over the horizon- But right in the city square. A blast of dazzle poured over, Not from the middle sky, But from the earth torn raggedly open. Human shadows, dazed and lost, pitched In every direction: this blaze, Not risen from the east, Smashed in the city’s heart- An immense wheel Of Death’s swart suncar spinning down and about In every direction. Instant of a sun’s rise and set. Vision-annihilating flare one compressed afternoon. And then? It was not human shadows that lengthened, paled, and died; It was men suddenly become as mist, then gone. The shadows stay: Burned on rocks, stones of these vacant streets. A sun conjured by men converted men into air, to nothing; White shadows singed on the black rock give back Man’s witness to himself By - S. H. Vatsyayan 'Agyeya'
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