UK seaside town close to shipwreck that's feared to blow up at any second
An unassuming seaside town with pastel beach huts and pebble shores is bizarrely home to its very own ticking time bomb.
Situated on the northwest corner of the Isle of Sheppey in north Kent, Sheerness looks like any other coastal resort at first glance. With sweeping views of the Thames Estuary, rows of flashing arcades, a slew of fish and chip shops, and a popular promenade that runs along a shingle beach - it ticks all of the quintessential seaside must-haves.
Dating back to the Bronze Age, Sheerness' history is what really sets it apart from the rest. It owes much of its origins as a Royal Naval dockyard town, after Henry VIII required the River Medway as an anchorage for his army, and ordered that the mouth of the river be protected by a small fort. Samuel Pepys established the Royal Navy Dockyard in the 17th century, where warships were stocked and repaired until its closure in 1960.
But, in 1944, just a year before the Second World War came to an end, a US Liberty Ship named SS Richard Montgomery, was loaded with around 7,000 tons of munitions and joined over convoys bound for the UK and then on to Cherbourg in France.
After arriving in the Thames Estuary, the vessel was directed to anchor in the Great Nore just off Sheerness to wait for instructions to cross the Channel. However, on August 20, it all went wrong.
"The vessel grounded amidships on the crest of the sandbank. Intensive efforts began to unload her cargo," GOV UK explains. "Unfortunately, by the next day, a crack appeared in the hull and the forward end began to flood. The salvage effort continued until September 25, by which time approximately half of the cargo had been successfully removed. The salvage effort had to be abandoned when the vessel finally flooded completely."
Now, the wreck of the SS Richard Montgomery remains on the sandbank, her masts clearly visible above the water. There are still approximately 1,400 tons of explosives contained within the forward holds - sparking fears it could explode at any time.
The government has reassured the public that the risk of a 'major' detonation is 'believed to be remote' - but that monitoring the condition of the wreck is essential. "Surveys are carried out by the MCA on a regular basis to ensure that any changes to the wreck, or its immediate environment, are discovered quickly," the Maritime and Coastguard Agency states.
"It is clear from the results of these surveys that the hull is subject to the prevailing environmental conditions and is showing evidence of gradual deterioration. However, the wreck is considered to be in a stable condition."
The wreck is under 24-hour radar surveillance and is designated under the Protection of Wrecks Act 1973. An exclusion zone is clearly marked around it, but recent fears emerged after a cargo ship was pictured sailing perilously close to the ticking time bomb.
Eastchurch resident James Dewey, who spotted a WEC Lines container ship edging closer to the exclusion zone - marked by buoys, told reports: "It was worrying when I was sitting there looking at doomsday." Officials confirmed the ship did not breach the exclusion zone, but the event still re-sparked interest in the ship's potential to wreak havoc.
As previously reported, a 1970 report from the Royal Military College of Science predicted a huge tsunami more than 3,000 metres high would be caused if its payload was to detonate. Nearby Sheerness would also be engulfed in the carnage.
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The Guardian
5 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘They ate my ex's furniture!': people on their drastic divorce decisions, from training huskies to getting plastic surgery
She had green eyes that 'could see through walls', Chris remembers, not unruefully. When he and his Russian girlfriend broke up, Chris, originally from Sussex and now living in Maine in the US, admits he had Siberia (Elena came from the city of Novosibirsk) on the mind. He did the obvious thing: went and got a pair of three-month-old Siberian husky puppies: Loki and Freja, brother and sister – also with piercing eyes, but icy blue, especially Loki's. 'People would just stop on the street as he walked by.' Chris had owned dogs before– labradors. 'I figured that huskies were labradors with fur coats on,' he says, talking to me from his pickup truck after an early morning paddle in his kayak. 'They absolutely are not.' The dogs got bigger, and wilder. 'I was completely ill-equipped to train them as the role of dominant alpha doesn't come naturally to me. They didn't seem to want to reason with me. Despite four hours of walking a day, it wasn't enough.' Chris even bought a sled for them, because huskies are bred to pull. (Take note of the sled – it will come back later in this story.) But the dogs frequently escaped, killing chickens and chasing horses. 'Twice they were brought home in the back of a police car. They ate my ex-girlfriend's furniture and bit through electrical and internet cables. I had to duct-tape the fridge closed, because they could open it with their noses. The final straw was when Freja started ripping the plasterboard off the wall.' Now everyone could see through walls. 'I returned them to the breeder and wept in her arms,' Chris remembers. 'But she did tell me that in her 25 years of breeding huskies, she had never had two returned in such good condition and with such well-kept fur.' A big breakup can often prompt people to overhaul their life – whether that's a new haircut, career change or, say, acquiring two strapping great Siberian huskies. Why is such a painful time also one of renewal? And when the dust settles, do people look back with regret? Joanna Harrison, a couples counsellor, former divorce lawyer and author of Five Arguments All Couples (Need To) Have and Why The Washing-Up Matters, understands this better than most. As well as all the big stuff – children, houses, money etc – it's often the everyday things that people miss after a split. 'The quietness at home, not being able to talk about the little things – people feel alone, miss company. Getting a pet may be a way not to feel so alone again. And to have a new project, a new identity. Animals are a key part of people's identity; the animal we choose might reflect an aspect of our identity that we're trying to convey.' Chris just chose the wrong animal. Times two. Harrison says divorce or separation can have a profound effect on a person mentally. There's the pain, for starters. 'For some, there may also be relief, but there's still something that needs mourning – the relationship, the hopes and dreams that are no longer possible.' Of course, the pain will be much greater if you didn't want the relationship to end. 'There are all these different phases we know about: of grief, feelings of anger, shock,' she says. 'I work with people who are devastated by the end of a relationship, don't know which way is up or down. They feel disoriented, lost, broken, numb.' Numb is what Victoria, in Switzerland, felt when her long-term partner unexpectedly walked out. 'I doubted myself and everything. I was in shock, not able to feel anything – no anger, no pain, nothing,' she tells me. 'How could anyone feel so numb? Was I really dead inside? I decided to put it to the test, put myself into a situation I knew would provoke strong emotions to see if I would still be indifferent to life. My solution? Do something that had been on my bucket list for a long time – skydiving.' And so she found herself in an aeroplane, strapped to an instructor, looking out at the mountains, but still not registering any emotions. It all changed on hearing the instruction to open the door and thinking: hang on, we're on a plane, the door shouldn't be open. After watching two other pairs jump and disappear it was Victoria's turn. 'I was on the edge; I closed my eyes and let myself go. The adrenaline rush was something I've never felt in my life. I felt fireworks in my brain. Freefalling hundreds of metres above ground, I was happy, I was free. I took in the beautiful day, the wonderful landscape, my audacity to put myself through all that, the fact I was not only alive but ecstatic.' After landing safely, Victoria had a grin so big it began to hurt. 'I wrote immediately in my journal a note to myself: 'This period is not going to be easy, and it will take time to feel like yourself again, but life is much more than this episode. You will heal and you will laugh and love again.' It took years to fully get over my heartbreak but, as I promised myself, I went back to who I was, eventually. Since then, I always share with anyone going through a heartbreak: have you considered skydiving?' Or indeed backpacking? When Rachel's relationship of seven years came to an abrupt end, she found herself in a rut. 'I phoned my boss, gave my notice and began to plan,' she tells me. 'A couple of months later, I flew out of the UK for a solo round-the-world backpacking trip, at the ripe old age of 38. The following two years, I backpacked through Asia and Australia, then visited 30 US states in a beat-up old camper van. I gained a whole new view of the world, met a wonderful girl and emigrated to Germany to start a new life.' Harrison says that in virtually every relationship there are things you might like to do but, 'because of your dynamic, what works in your relationship, they don't happen'. It might be intolerable, because you can't properly express yourself, and it could contribute to a relationship ending. Or it could be something to do after the relationship ends – set off round the world with a pack on your back. A geographical move, a change of scene, is something that cropped up a lot among the people I spoke to. After her breakup, Deepa travelled from the US to Europe and immediately fell in love all over again: with Prague, where she signed up for an English teaching course. Now back in the US, she admits: 'We are sort of back together. But I would leave him for Prague and my own dreams all over again!' Harrison says the urge to go far away is understandable. 'Something possibly humiliating has happened, or you feel betrayed; maybe everything you see is going to remind you of it. It's quite human to wish to have a bit of space to lick your wounds.' She does have a couple of words of warning. 'The feelings will follow you. Going to the other side of the world isn't necessarily going to stop you hurting about the loss of your relationship. You might get there and feel just as awful.' The old problem with any kind of travel is that you tend to bring yourself – and your baggage – along, too. Separation might be an opportunity to get unstuck, says Harrison. 'You can claim some of those things back that you may have let your partner do, learn a new skill or do something intrepid, and discover you're more competent in that area than you realised. It's reclaiming some identity, and that could be quite positive and exciting.' When John in Belfast was, in his words, 'given the old heave-ho' by a girlfriend, he decided to fill the empty space in his life, and in his room, with a synthesiser. 'I learned the notes, a few chords, practised scales – no longer was I going to be pigeonholed as a mere boyfriend. I had recovered from the rejection and was forging ahead with a brilliant new life and future, quickly on the way to becoming the next Jean-Michel Jarre or Dave Greenfield [of the Stranglers] … ' But then John met someone else. 'She swept me off my feet, leaving the instrument to gather dust.' It became a repeated sequence, a loop perhaps, if you were looking for a musical analogy. 'I found myself with another synth to fill the gap, but it, too, found itself in the corner as I hit the dancefloor, new girlfriend in hand … until, inevitably, another black-and-white-keyed friend with lots of buttons and switches joined the growing army of 1980s music technology.' You won't have seen John on Top of the Pops. 'I was never single long enough to program or even play them. But by the time I bought a house and tied the knot, I had an enviable collection of synthesisers and other beats-making hardware. Today, most have gone, but I do occasionally find myself browsing vintage synthesiser listings on eBay, to keep the marriage sharp … ' Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion Sometimes it's about a change in physical appearance. I heard about lizard tattoos, drastic haircuts and dyes (orange and blue). Han in Korea got breast-enlargement surgery after divorce. 'But I realised they were too big for my lifestyle, so I downsized two years later. Since then, I have promised myself not to make important decisions after a breakup.' Weight loss came up. Significantly, in the case of Christian in California, who dropped 100lb (45kg). 'After 15 years married to a narcissist, I was 315lb and very unhealthy. I wasn't always like that, but people in toxic relationships often end up not taking care of themselves and gaining weight.' Christian joined his healthcare provider's supervised weight-loss programme and was able to lose that weight over about eight months. 'The road is still ongoing, but the divorce was definitely drastically needed, not only for my happiness, but also for my health.' It wasn't the only change Christian made. 'I threw away my wardrobe of mostly black clothing and started wearing colours again. I wish I had done it sooner.' Rhyannon in Gloucestershire transformed her health – physical and mental – through open-water swimming. After ending her unhappy marriage, she realised she desperately needed significant change in her life. As well as getting a new job, she committed to swimming outdoors throughout the winter. 'After years of neglecting my body and succumbing to the demands of work and family obligations, I stumbled upon the pure exhilarating joy of cold-water swimming. It rekindled a long-buried need to indulge in activities that spark joy within me. In my late 40s I confronted my fears, including the intimidating uncertainties of what lay beneath the surface, and discovered I had the ability to swim distances I never thought were possible.' Three years after the end of her marriage, Rhyannon swam the length of Windermere – nearly 11 miles (18km). 'Change can feel daunting, yet it's those moments of stepping into the unknown that can uncover the profound joy we deserve.' Harrison says that separation means 'a shift from thinking about the needs of the relationship and more to protecting yourself. There can be a need to go into survival mode, and that might go alongside trying to take more care of yourself, look after things that maybe you haven't.' She also warns that dealing with a breakup is a long process as well as a stressful one. 'And it isn't necessarily linear – you might feel better, then go back to feeling not so good.' She thinks that people can make big decisions very quickly 'to get away from something really painful. My advice is often to slow things down, because you can't really bypass the mourning that needs to be done at the end of a significant relationship.' Some of the decisions I heard about might have benefited from a bit more time. Lawrence in Manchester had a partner who was obsessed with crystals, which he went along with because she was fun. He even collected some for her while out walking, including one 'which I was admittedly rather taken with myself, as it was almost perfectly shaped like a neolithic hand axe. Obviously, it wasn't really a neolithic hand axe, I told myself, as cavemen weren't making axes out of pretty crystals, were they …' You see where it's going, right? After Lawrence was dumped, he decided to sell his collection of pseudo-mystical rocks, which he did to a 'wizard' who only really seemed interested in the hand axe – £60 for the lot. The folly of his actions began to emerge on a trip to Lisbon where, in the prehistory section of the city museum, Lawrence found a cabinet of crystal hand axes. Then, on another trip, to the Scottish Highlands where he had originally found his, he learned 'it was one of few confirmed sites for hunter gatherers in the UK. And that their favourite material to work with was – you guessed it – crystal.' Lawrence doesn't know for sure that it was the real neolithic deal, but he has seen on the internet cruder versions selling for £4,000-£5,000. 'I think it should be in the National Museum of Scotland.' And remember Chris in Maine? You could say his purchase of two Siberian huskies to replace his one Siberian girlfriend wasn't the wisest of decisions. But this one does at least have a happy(ish) coda. Four years later, clearing out his basement, Chris came across the dog sled he'd forgotten about. With no use for it, he decided to take it to the breeder he had got the dogs from (and to whom he had later returned them). 'There were all these huskies running about, some loose, others in pens with runs attached. I asked her what happened to Loki and Freja. 'They're here, over in that pen,' she said. I stayed where I was, she went and opened the door, and out looked this big blond head with bright blue eyes – Loki! He took one look at me and came charging, followed by his sister. They jumped up, pinned me against the wall with their paws on my shoulders, licking me to pieces.' They had a better life now, Chris says – dog sledding in northern Maine in the winter, then spending summers on the farm. Has he seen them again? Does he visit? 'I think that would be too confusing, definitely for me.' The Russian ex had quickly found – and married – someone else. And what about Chris, what's his current relationship status? 'Single. And wary.'
The Guardian
7 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘They ate my ex's furniture!': people on their drastic divorce decisions, from training huskies to getting plastic surgery
She had green eyes that 'could see through walls', Chris remembers, not unruefully. When he and his Russian girlfriend broke up, Chris, originally from Sussex and now living in Maine in the US, admits he had Siberia (Elena came from the city of Novosibirsk) on the mind. He did the obvious thing: went and got a pair of three-month-old Siberian husky puppies: Loki and Freja, brother and sister – also with piercing eyes, but icy blue, especially Loki's. 'People would just stop on the street as he walked by.' Chris had owned dogs before– labradors. 'I figured that huskies were labradors with fur coats on,' he says, talking to me from his pickup truck after an early morning paddle in his kayak. 'They absolutely are not.' The dogs got bigger, and wilder. 'I was completely ill-equipped to train them as the role of dominant alpha doesn't come naturally to me. They didn't seem to want to reason with me. Despite four hours of walking a day, it wasn't enough.' Chris even bought a sled for them, because huskies are bred to pull. (Take note of the sled – it will come back later in this story.) But the dogs frequently escaped, killing chickens and chasing horses. 'Twice they were brought home in the back of a police car. They ate my ex-girlfriend's furniture and bit through electrical and internet cables. I had to duct-tape the fridge closed, because they could open it with their noses. The final straw was when Freja started ripping the plasterboard off the wall.' Now everyone could see through walls. 'I returned them to the breeder and wept in her arms,' Chris remembers. 'But she did tell me that in her 25 years of breeding huskies, she had never had two returned in such good condition and with such well-kept fur.' A big breakup can often prompt people to overhaul their life – whether that's a new haircut, career change or, say, acquiring two strapping great Siberian huskies. Why is such a painful time also one of renewal? And when the dust settles, do people look back with regret? Joanna Harrison, a couples counsellor, former divorce lawyer and author of Five Arguments All Couples (Need To) Have and Why The Washing-Up Matters, understands this better than most. As well as all the big stuff – children, houses, money etc – it's often the everyday things that people miss after a split. 'The quietness at home, not being able to talk about the little things – people feel alone, miss company. Getting a pet may be a way not to feel so alone again. And to have a new project, a new identity. Animals are a key part of people's identity; the animal we choose might reflect an aspect of our identity that we're trying to convey.' Chris just chose the wrong animal. Times two. Harrison says divorce or separation can have a profound effect on a person mentally. There's the pain, for starters. 'For some, there may also be relief, but there's still something that needs mourning – the relationship, the hopes and dreams that are no longer possible.' Of course, the pain will be much greater if you didn't want the relationship to end. 'There are all these different phases we know about: of grief, feelings of anger, shock,' she says. 'I work with people who are devastated by the end of a relationship, don't know which way is up or down. They feel disoriented, lost, broken, numb.' Numb is what Victoria, in Switzerland, felt when her long-term partner unexpectedly walked out. 'I doubted myself and everything. I was in shock, not able to feel anything – no anger, no pain, nothing,' she tells me. 'How could anyone feel so numb? Was I really dead inside? I decided to put it to the test, put myself into a situation I knew would provoke strong emotions to see if I would still be indifferent to life. My solution? Do something that had been on my bucket list for a long time – skydiving.' And so she found herself in an aeroplane, strapped to an instructor, looking out at the mountains, but still not registering any emotions. It all changed on hearing the instruction to open the door and thinking: hang on, we're on a plane, the door shouldn't be open. After watching two other pairs jump and disappear it was Victoria's turn. 'I was on the edge; I closed my eyes and let myself go. The adrenaline rush was something I've never felt in my life. I felt fireworks in my brain. Freefalling hundreds of metres above ground, I was happy, I was free. I took in the beautiful day, the wonderful landscape, my audacity to put myself through all that, the fact I was not only alive but ecstatic.' After landing safely, Victoria had a grin so big it began to hurt. 'I wrote immediately in my journal a note to myself: 'This period is not going to be easy, and it will take time to feel like yourself again, but life is much more than this episode. You will heal and you will laugh and love again.' It took years to fully get over my heartbreak but, as I promised myself, I went back to who I was, eventually. Since then, I always share with anyone going through a heartbreak: have you considered skydiving?' Or indeed backpacking? When Rachel's relationship of seven years came to an abrupt end, she found herself in a rut. 'I phoned my boss, gave my notice and began to plan,' she tells me. 'A couple of months later, I flew out of the UK for a solo round-the-world backpacking trip, at the ripe old age of 38. The following two years, I backpacked through Asia and Australia, then visited 30 US states in a beat-up old camper van. I gained a whole new view of the world, met a wonderful girl and emigrated to Germany to start a new life.' Harrison says that in virtually every relationship there are things you might like to do but, 'because of your dynamic, what works in your relationship, they don't happen'. It might be intolerable, because you can't properly express yourself, and it could contribute to a relationship ending. Or it could be something to do after the relationship ends – set off round the world with a pack on your back. A geographical move, a change of scene, is something that cropped up a lot among the people I spoke to. After her breakup, Deepa travelled from the US to Europe and immediately fell in love all over again: with Prague, where she signed up for an English teaching course. Now back in the US, she admits: 'We are sort of back together. But I would leave him for Prague and my own dreams all over again!' Harrison says the urge to go far away is understandable. 'Something possibly humiliating has happened, or you feel betrayed; maybe everything you see is going to remind you of it. It's quite human to wish to have a bit of space to lick your wounds.' She does have a couple of words of warning. 'The feelings will follow you. Going to the other side of the world isn't necessarily going to stop you hurting about the loss of your relationship. You might get there and feel just as awful.' The old problem with any kind of travel is that you tend to bring yourself – and your baggage – along, too. Separation might be an opportunity to get unstuck, says Harrison. 'You can claim some of those things back that you may have let your partner do, learn a new skill or do something intrepid, and discover you're more competent in that area than you realised. It's reclaiming some identity, and that could be quite positive and exciting.' When John in Belfast was, in his words, 'given the old heave-ho' by a girlfriend, he decided to fill the empty space in his life, and in his room, with a synthesiser. 'I learned the notes, a few chords, practised scales – no longer was I going to be pigeonholed as a mere boyfriend. I had recovered from the rejection and was forging ahead with a brilliant new life and future, quickly on the way to becoming the next Jean-Michel Jarre or Dave Greenfield [of the Stranglers] … ' But then John met someone else. 'She swept me off my feet, leaving the instrument to gather dust.' It became a repeated sequence, a loop perhaps, if you were looking for a musical analogy. 'I found myself with another synth to fill the gap, but it, too, found itself in the corner as I hit the dancefloor, new girlfriend in hand … until, inevitably, another black-and-white-keyed friend with lots of buttons and switches joined the growing army of 1980s music technology.' You won't have seen John on Top of the Pops. 'I was never single long enough to program or even play them. But by the time I bought a house and tied the knot, I had an enviable collection of synthesisers and other beats-making hardware. Today, most have gone, but I do occasionally find myself browsing vintage synthesiser listings on eBay, to keep the marriage sharp … ' Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion Sometimes it's about a change in physical appearance. I heard about lizard tattoos, drastic haircuts and dyes (orange and blue). Han in Korea got breast-enlargement surgery after divorce. 'But I realised they were too big for my lifestyle, so I downsized two years later. Since then, I have promised myself not to make important decisions after a breakup.' Weight loss came up. Significantly, in the case of Christian in California, who dropped 100lb (45kg). 'After 15 years married to a narcissist, I was 315lb and very unhealthy. I wasn't always like that, but people in toxic relationships often end up not taking care of themselves and gaining weight.' Christian joined his healthcare provider's supervised weight-loss programme and was able to lose that weight over about eight months. 'The road is still ongoing, but the divorce was definitely drastically needed, not only for my happiness, but also for my health.' It wasn't the only change Christian made. 'I threw away my wardrobe of mostly black clothing and started wearing colours again. I wish I had done it sooner.' Rhyannon in Gloucestershire transformed her health – physical and mental – through open-water swimming. After ending her unhappy marriage, she realised she desperately needed significant change in her life. As well as getting a new job, she committed to swimming outdoors throughout the winter. 'After years of neglecting my body and succumbing to the demands of work and family obligations, I stumbled upon the pure exhilarating joy of cold-water swimming. It rekindled a long-buried need to indulge in activities that spark joy within me. In my late 40s I confronted my fears, including the intimidating uncertainties of what lay beneath the surface, and discovered I had the ability to swim distances I never thought were possible.' Three years after the end of her marriage, Rhyannon swam the length of Windermere – nearly 11 miles (18km). 'Change can feel daunting, yet it's those moments of stepping into the unknown that can uncover the profound joy we deserve.' Harrison says that separation means 'a shift from thinking about the needs of the relationship and more to protecting yourself. There can be a need to go into survival mode, and that might go alongside trying to take more care of yourself, look after things that maybe you haven't.' She also warns that dealing with a breakup is a long process as well as a stressful one. 'And it isn't necessarily linear – you might feel better, then go back to feeling not so good.' She thinks that people can make big decisions very quickly 'to get away from something really painful. My advice is often to slow things down, because you can't really bypass the mourning that needs to be done at the end of a significant relationship.' Some of the decisions I heard about might have benefited from a bit more time. Lawrence in Manchester had a partner who was obsessed with crystals, which he went along with because she was fun. He even collected some for her while out walking, including one 'which I was admittedly rather taken with myself, as it was almost perfectly shaped like a neolithic hand axe. Obviously, it wasn't really a neolithic hand axe, I told myself, as cavemen weren't making axes out of pretty crystals, were they …' You see where it's going, right? After Lawrence was dumped, he decided to sell his collection of pseudo-mystical rocks, which he did to a 'wizard' who only really seemed interested in the hand axe – £60 for the lot. The folly of his actions began to emerge on a trip to Lisbon where, in the prehistory section of the city museum, Lawrence found a cabinet of crystal hand axes. Then, on another trip, to the Scottish Highlands where he had originally found his, he learned 'it was one of few confirmed sites for hunter gatherers in the UK. And that their favourite material to work with was – you guessed it – crystal.' Lawrence doesn't know for sure that it was the real neolithic deal, but he has seen on the internet cruder versions selling for £4,000-£5,000. 'I think it should be in the National Museum of Scotland.' And remember Chris in Maine? You could say his purchase of two Siberian huskies to replace his one Siberian girlfriend wasn't the wisest of decisions. But this one does at least have a happy(ish) coda. Four years later, clearing out his basement, Chris came across the dog sled he'd forgotten about. With no use for it, he decided to take it to the breeder he had got the dogs from (and to whom he had later returned them). 'There were all these huskies running about, some loose, others in pens with runs attached. I asked her what happened to Loki and Freja. 'They're here, over in that pen,' she said. I stayed where I was, she went and opened the door, and out looked this big blond head with bright blue eyes – Loki! He took one look at me and came charging, followed by his sister. They jumped up, pinned me against the wall with their paws on my shoulders, licking me to pieces.' They had a better life now, Chris says – dog sledding in northern Maine in the winter, then spending summers on the farm. Has he seen them again? Does he visit? 'I think that would be too confusing, definitely for me.' The Russian ex had quickly found – and married – someone else. And what about Chris, what's his current relationship status? 'Single. And wary.'
Spectator
14 hours ago
- Spectator
How did the Enola Gay's crew live with bombing Hiroshima?
Eighty years on, the atomic bombing of Hiroshima continues to provoke fierce debate, reflection, and deep moral inquiry. How did the thirteen men aboard the Enola Gay – the US aircraft that delivered the bomb that killed at least 150,000 people – live with the knowledge of what they had done? The morning of 6 August 1945 began like any other on the Pacific island of Tinian. That was until the Boeing B-29 Superfortress lifted into the sky. Its destination: Japan. Its payload: 'Little Boy', the first atomic bomb ever used in warfare. Piloted by Colonel Paul W. Tibbets Jnr. and manned by a crew of twelve, the mission forever altered the course of history. The explosion over Hiroshima ushered in the atomic age, marked the beginning of the end of the Second World War, and created a moral legacy that haunted and defined the lives of those aboard. The men of the Enola Gay were highly trained and mission-focused, yet none could fully comprehend the historic and human weight of the operation they had executed. After the war, these men returned to civilian life or continued military careers, each navigating the public scrutiny and personal reckoning that came with their roles in the atomic bombing. Some defended their actions unapologetically; others expressed private doubts or lingering sorrow. But all of them lived in the long shadow of that moment. Colonel Tibbets Jnr., the aircraft's commander and pilot, remained the most visible and vocal member of the crew throughout his life. As the man who had selected the Enola Gay, named it after his mother, and led the 509th Composite Group, Tibbets carried the weight of command. Unapologetic to the end, you can only admire his message discipline, consistently defending the mission as necessary. In a 2002 interview, he reflected: I viewed my mission as one to save lives. I didn't bomb Pearl Harbor. I didn't start the war. But I was going to finish it. Tibbets served in the US Air Force until his retirement as a brigadier general in 1966. He never expressed remorse and, anticipating potential protests, requested no headstone after his death in 2007. His ashes were scattered over the English Channel by his French-born widow, Andrea. Major Thomas Ferebee, the bombardier who released the bomb, shared Tibbets' view. A seasoned airman who had seen combat in Europe, Ferebee also showed little inclination toward public reflection or regret. He returned to service after the war and retired as a colonel, keeping a low profile for much of his life. Like Tibbets, he believed the bombing had ultimately saved more lives than it had taken. Navigator Captain Theodore 'Dutch' Van Kirk was responsible for guiding the aircraft to its target. His recollections offered a blend of historical realism and quiet resignation. In a 2005 interview, Van Kirk said: War is war. And in war, you do what you have to do to win. It was a different time and a different place. After leaving the military, Van Kirk worked in private industry, remaining relatively quiet until his later years, when he began to speak more openly about the mission. He maintained that the bombing, tragic though it was, had likely prevented an even greater catastrophe. He passed away in 2014, the last surviving member of the Enola Gay crew. Co-pilot Captain Robert Lewis, in contrast, expressed deep emotional conflict shortly after the mission. In his logbook, written during the return flight, he famously recorded: My God, what have we done? This single line became one of the most quoted responses from the mission, often contrasted with the stoic tone of Tibbets and others. But his crew members have called into question the veracity of that account. According to Van Kirk, who was sitting behind the co-pilot, as they gazed at the giant mushroom cloud enveloping the heart of Hiroshima, Lewis exclaimed: 'Look at that son of a bitch go!'. Lewis, a civilian airline pilot before and after the war, wrestled with the event privately. Though he never publicly condemned the mission, his writings and interviews reflected a more complicated emotional legacy. He died in 1983. Sergeant George 'Bob' Caron, the tail gunner, was the only crew member to witness the blast directly through a rear-facing window. He captured the famous photographs of the mushroom cloud that have since become emblematic of the bombing. In his 1995 memoir Fire of a Thousand Suns, Caron defended the mission as a necessary military action and expressed pride in his crew's professionalism. After the war, he lived a relatively quiet life and worked in sales. Lieutenant Jacob Beser, the radar specialist, played a role not only in Hiroshima but also in the second bombing mission over Nagasaki. A physicist by training, Beser was deeply involved in the technical side of the weapon's delivery. In later interviews, he was frank about his participation, stating that he had no regrets, though he did express concern over the uncontrolled spread of nuclear weapons in the postwar world. Beser passed away in 1992. Several crew members chose to step away from public life entirely. Staff Sergeant Wyatt Duzenbury, Sergeant Robert Shumard, and Technical Sergeant Joseph Stiborik all returned to civilian life without engaging in public commentary. These men had played crucial roles in maintaining the aircraft and monitoring its systems, yet their postwar narratives were largely defined by silence. Their private reflections, if any, were not widely recorded. Captain William 'Deak' Parsons, the mission's weaponeer, had the grave responsibility of arming the bomb during flight. A naval officer and ordnance expert, Parsons ensured that the weapon was live before it reached the drop zone. He continued to work in nuclear weapons development and held high-level roles in the Navy and at Los Alamos. Parsons died in 1953, before the larger public reckoning with the bomb's legacy fully unfolded. Ensign Morris Jeppson, Parsons' assistant, was the man who removed the bomb's safety plugs mid-flight, allowing it to arm. After the war, Jeppson became an electrical engineer and worked in private industry. In later life, he occasionally gave interviews in which he offered a calm, pragmatic defence of the mission. He expressed neither regret nor triumph, focusing instead on the technical precision and professionalism required for such a complex operation. As the Cold War intensified and nuclear weapons proliferated, public sentiment around Hiroshima became increasingly divided. The 50th anniversary of the bombing in 1995 brought renewed scrutiny to the crew of the Enola Gay, particularly when the Smithsonian Institution's planned exhibit on the aircraft was met with controversy. Veterans' groups clashed with peace activists and historians over how the bombing should be remembered. Tibbets and other surviving crew members criticised what they saw as a politically skewed narrative that cast them as villains rather than soldiers following orders during wartime. The exhibit was eventually revised, displaying the aircraft without a strong interpretive stance. While many of the men maintained personal pride in their military professionalism, few glorified the destruction itself. Their reflections were often grounded in the logic of the time: a brutal war, a feared invasion, and the perceived necessity of demonstrating overwhelming force to end the conflict swiftly. These were not bloodthirsty men; they were professionals who had been tasked with delivering an incomprehensibly powerful weapon, under orders and in service to a broader strategic objective. As the years passed, the crew of the Enola Gay aged into a world that changed dramatically from the one in which they had taken flight. They watched as the power they had unleashed became the centrepiece of global geopolitics. Some lived long enough to see the fall of the Soviet Union, the debates over arms control, and the shifting global consensus about the use of nuclear weapons. Yet through it all, the men remained tethered to that day in 1945. Whether in silence or speech, pride or doubt, they carried the memory of Hiroshima with them. Their mission was history's turning point, but also their personal burden. They did not ask to become symbols of victory, destruction, or moral ambiguity, but that is what history made them. Their story is not one of monsters or saints, but of men caught in the furnace of global conflict, making choices within the brutal logic of war. They dropped the bomb. And then, for the rest of their lives, they lived with it. 'The Hiroshima Men: The Quest to Build the Atomic Bomb, and the Fateful Decision to Use It' by Iain MacGregor is out now
