The Art of Officialdom After the Apocalypse (Part 2)

 

During the Cold War the British Government expended an enormous amount of effort to put plans in place to secure the survival of the machinery of government in wartime. Extensive plans were made that covered how the Government would disperse to the regions, shelter and then emerge to regain control in the aftermath of a nuclear attack on the UK.

In the first part of this series (HERE), the basic principles of planning were covered, along with an insight into the challenges of preparing for the worst – including whether to invite the French Ambassador or not (arguably after the last few weeks, that would be an easier problem to resolve these days).

One of the biggest challenges that faced Government in this period was the difficulty of keeping the secret of where its main wartime location would be. The headquarters in Corsham, known by various codewords over the years including STOCKWELL, TURNSTILE and BURLINGTON would be the wartime location of the War Cabinet, and the Prime Minister.

 

Corsham Telephone Exchange

If the location was known, then in wartime the site would easily be a target for attacks, both conventional and nuclear, wiping out the core central government in one go. To that end, keeping the secret safe, and keeping it strictly on a ‘need to know’ basis was vital.

At times this led to near farcical scenes, as parts of Government actively plotted to use the site, while other parts plotted with equal fervour to prevent them from doing so.

In the Corsham area, in the early 1960s, the War Office found itself the custodian of a large number of underground areas, some of which were ammunition depots, and others legacy mines. These were large, expensive to operate and had no readily discernible peacetime value for the Army, which was shrinking rapidly in size due to the end of National Service.

The result was that papers from this period show how much effort was put in by the War Office to trying to dispose of several of these sites, while being totally oblivious to the fact that next door was the main Government wartime HQ.

In the early 1960s all manner of schemes were being considered about what to do with these sites. This resulted in the War Office considering turning them into an emergency HQ for MAFF, an alternative Regional Seat of Government, and possibly selling them to Wiltshire County Council for use as a quarry.

This of course posed a huge problem for the secretive ‘Machinery of Government in War’ Committee – how do you keep a secret about a location without compromising it – either through action, or inaction? The dilemma faced was simple – by refusing to support site disposal, they may indicate that Corsham was more significant than others perhaps assumed, which in turn could compromise the secret.

But if nothing was done, and some parts turned into an alternative Ministry HQ, while other parts were used for quarrying, then the risk to TURNSTILE security increased. After all, if the Soviets got wind that a major wartime HQ for MAFF was located in Corsham, that would turn it into a target and risk TURNSTILE itself.

In typically British fashion, a compromise was agreed upon. Extensive work was carried out assessing the distance between the sites the War Office wanted to get rid of and TURNSTILE, and whether there was an acceptable level of risk.

It was agreed that some parts could be sold, while other parts could not (cue a very lengthy conversation on the cover story to give to Wiltshire County Council who were being lied to, as to why they couldn’t buy the site). Other parts were agreed that they could remain, but only in MOD or Government use.

For several more years, the small town of Corsham became arguably the most heavily monitored location in the country. The whole machinery of the ‘Secret State’ was focused on watching the site, keeping an eye out for any suspicious planning applications, housing developments or even changes in quarry use, to ensure that this didn’t pose a threat to the main HQ site. The local population had no idea how much effort was being put into monitoring the development of their home by Whitehall.

Notes on Wiltshire council

Of course protecting the secret in peacetime was all for naught if in wartime the site was to fail to work properly. The other subject of considerable angst and scrutiny in the files is that of the wider underground sites that were to remain in the hands of the Government.

In addition to the main wartime HQ, space underground was reserved for a variety of other functions to be carried out by the Home Office and RAF, including wartime control of surviving aviation assets, fallout reporting and other tasks. By some estimates in addition to the 4000 or so people below ground in the main bunker, almost another 1000 would be needed next door in the surrounding quarry areas.

The problem though was that these areas were not having any money spent on them for maintenance, upkeep or support. This meant that while the HQ itself was in reasonably good condition and could have been used, there was no similar assurance for other areas, which meant that in wartime it could have had disastrous results.

In a Cabinet Office memo dated 19 Sep 1963, one of the lead planners for the site (Lt Col Julian Paget, Coldstream Guards) set out the extent of the risks being carried in these wider areas (known as Hawthorn and Box, both of which were in RAF hands).

He makes clear that even if TURNSTILE survived, within 24hrs of a nuclear attack, the lack of fallout protection or potable water meant that there would be the complete loss of the communications centre in Hawthorn (a key node for TURNSTILE comms). The planned Joint Air Transportation Unit (a critical cell responsible for co-ordinating all surviving military and civilian aircraft) would cease to function, as would the fallout reporting cell.

There was not sufficient accommodation below ground for the site to be properly used by its occupants, meaning they would need to live above ground in wooden huts, proceeding below ground on shift. The best estimate was that within 24hrs of a nuclear strike, TURNSTILE would have lost most of its communications ability, and ceased to function effectively – because no investment had been made in the surrounding areas.

Efforts were being made by the Cabinet Office to secure investment in these sites, and to work with the War Office to try to ensure long term accommodation was available. By 1963 these efforts were clearly not paying off.  A clearly frustrated Colonel Paget noted:

“I think you will agree that so long as we maintain the present Alice in Wonderland outlook, the proper functioning of TURNSTILE for 30 days is, to say the least, put in jeopardy”.

He went on to note that:

“Do you think we shall get the okay for these works projects? If we can’t, then I feel that we shall have wasted a lot of time and money and that in some respects we shall have to start thinking again from scratch”.

That one of the lead planners for the British Governments survival in WW3 was being frustrated, not by the Soviets, but by the reluctance of the War Office to spend any money on functions because it didn’t know why these functions were so critical to spend money on (and couldn’t easily be told) really does highlight the ‘Alice in Wonderland’ nature of planning for the end of the world.

As a final ‘PS’ to the letter, he noted:

“Please excuse the amateur typing, but I have to type anything bearing ‘the warning’ myself – none of our typists are cleared for it”

This conjures up the haunting image of a lonely military planner sitting in Whitehall alone, laboriously typing away on matters of the utmost secrecy, due to the inability of being able to tell others in the office about this secret he was aware of.

The Paget Memo

The process of deciding who to tell was equally something that mattered a great deal. Every time a person was ‘indoctrinated’ into the secret of planning, the risk of exposure grew. The more people that knew the location and role of Corsham, the more likely it was that a leak could emerge that would threaten the sites existence in wartime.

A huge amount of effort was made to reduce the numbers aware of the site and its role to the bare minimum – some knew there were plans, others knew there was an HQ – very very few knew that there was an HQ and where it was, and the plans for its use. By some estimates the total number of people in Government who knew ‘the central secret’ at any one time was comfortably under 200 people.

This need to know was rigorously applied, even to staff with the highest levels of security clearance. One amusing file in the National Archives covers a letter to MI5, dated 26 Sep 1963, and refers to an incident linked to TURNSTILE security and a section in the War Office called ‘Q2’.

It appears that a letter was sent around this time in 1963 within the Army that clearly created a great deal of concern in wider Government. Lt Col Paget was obviously tasked to tidy things up, and had to work out how to explain to the Army authors not to draw further attention to the site or its role.

Paget noted that he’d chosen to indoctrinate one Army Major, but did not fully make the head of Q2 (a Colonel Bell) fully aware of the role of TURNSTILE. This was because:

“I have not indoctrinated Colonel Bell because firstly he leaves his current job in less than 3 months, and secondly he confessed he had a Hungarian wife and (presumably fearing that he should talk in his sleep) suggested himself as a possible security risk!”

That the security of the nations deepest secrets should come down to whether or not an Army Officer talked in his sleep is perhaps a good insight into the mentality at the time surrounding security and protection of the secret at any cost.

The Army did manage though to cause a number of challenges with its ‘can do attitude’ and desire to ask questions, and know more than they should. In one of the files reference is made to the huge frustrations felt by planners at the ongoing questioning from Army officers on ‘the batting order’ as to which sites would take over if Corsham were to be knocked out of action. The desire to know often sat uncomfortably with the need to know!

The biggest challenge facing TURNSTILE planners though was arguably not that its secret would be known, but keeping Government intact after the worst had happened, particularly with a paucity of resources.

For example even in the early 1960s it was clear that there was not enough trained manpower in the Royal Signals, a critical enabler of the wartime communications role, to meet all the tasks placed on the site and supporting Government efforts.

By 1967 the commander of UK Land Forces, Lt Gen Yates, was sufficiently concerned about this state of affairs (admittedly after TURNSTILE had morphed into the PYTHON concept), that he felt moved to send what could be politely termed as a ‘3* bollocking letter’ noting his very real concerns that:

“I am particularly concerned that the command and control of nearly 100,000 service personnel of all 3 services in their general land war role of direct assistance to the Civil Authorities is at present jeopardised because of the illogical and totally inadequate organisation of Royal Signals units allotted to provide the assigned communication tasks”

A great deal of concern existed in the MOD about this command and control and how British forces would be used after a nuclear attack had occurred. The files are full of detailed discussions on this, and in particular the role of the UK Commander in Chief Committee, and how to strike the command and control balance between government and the military after a nuclear attack.

Originally this had been intended to be a two part article, but it is clear that there is a significant body of material which warrants further analysis. Part three, to follow in due course, will focus on the role of the military in setting up the Commander in Chief Committee, and the discussions that nearly saw all manner of secret HQs set up, in direct competition with each other to govern Britain.

The final element will be to focus on the wider plans, how the MOD worked out how to answer Parliamentary questions without lying but still deceiving well known members of the House of Lords, and how the Cabinet Office struggled into the 1980s on the existential challenge of maintaining Corsham as a bunker, while accepting that it was likely to be wiped out in wartime. The focus will be very much on the art of nuclear deception.

Finally, it is worth noting that Lt Colonel Paget, prior to his time in the Cabinet Office had a long and successful career in the Coldstream Guards, including service in Normandy, and the withdrawal from Empire, and later became a military historian of some renown, passing away only in 2016. His obituary can be found here, and in the Times here and makes for fascinating reading – although neither says anything of his arguably most influential work in preparing the Prime Ministers of the 1960s for the awesome and terrifying responsibility of nuclear release, and the plans to safeguard the nation beyond.

It is through reading these obituaries, perhaps wonderfully fitting that for a nation which prides itself on its eccentricity, the individual charged through much of the 1960s with preparing this nation for the madness of nuclear war had once posted himself as a parcel via airmail in the USA in order to visit the woman he loved. How wonderfully Strangelovian!