It's crazy what gets left behind, and what we totally fail to notice!
There are aproximately 1,563 little doors dotted around the UK, leading about fifteen feet into the ground, to teeny little concrete rooms, from which the Royal Observer Corps used to watch for nuclear blasts during the Cold War.
Initially, the Royal Observer Corps used to watch out for enemy aircraft, but as the Cold War escalated, and tensions rose between countries, the Royal Observer Corps duties extended to monitoring for nuclear misiles. This was a far higher priority, as our potential enemies had the means to wipe us off the map with a push of a button.
Okay, it was probably a more complex procedure than simply pushing a button, but what do I know? I'm not allowed to go playing with nuclear missiles. Not anymore. My handlers won't let me.
Nuclear monitoring bunkers were small little subterranean posts, designed to communicate with others like them, monitor for nuclear blasts, and also ensure the safety of the staff manning them, and provide temporary accomodation in the event of a nuclear strike.
Now allegedly the technology used to monitor for nuclear blasts was primitive and couldn't even detect radiation in chernobyl, so it was a flawed plan. However, one can't diss the Royal Observer Corps because this is still a noble profession. The Cold War was a scary time, and the powers that be were trying to be proactive when they didn't really know what to do.
Today, these bunkers still exist. Many were shut down in the 1960s, the rest following in the 1990s. Some were flat out demolished, such was the agreement with landowners to return the land to how they found it once the threat had passed. But many still exist, albeit derelict, some locked, some open, some pristine time capsules, others vandalised beyond repair.
This one is fairly remote, on top of a great big hill.
These bunkers are recognisable by the surface features. If you know what to look for, they become pretty easy to spot. If you don't know about them then you may well stroll past one and never notice. The posts were all built identical, but history has given them each different stories. This one opened in 1960, and didn't close until 1991.
The shaft has not been properly maintained, so there is an element of danger here. If it's damaged, or comes off the wall, I could end up trapped underground, with no phone signal. Now this isn't going to put me off at all, and to the shock and disapointment of everyone, I have so far failed to get myself killed. Nevertheless I still feel the need to inform people, just in case. If you do go bunker hunting, let someone know.
At the bottom of the ladder there's this grate which catches rain water. It can then be pumped back out using this handy hand pump, which is still in great condition. This is a particularly uncommon find because the pump handle is made of wood, and often decays.
In this cupboard, there's usually a toilet.
And by toilet, I mean a bucket with a seat, which is still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and nightclubs, but nevertheless hardly dignified. It seems that at some point someone removed this one. It also seems that at some point someone came down here with paint and tried to decorate the bunker. I've never seen one of these bunkers rocking such a colour scheme before. But then, it's likely that the landowner had plans for the bunker, but whatever they were, it's now been left to rot.
Also missing are the bunk beds that can usually be found in these bunkers, along with the chairs that the staff would have sat on. However, there's still a few Cold War relics left on the desk.
One of the original visitor log books is still here, its first entry being Lt D.E Morgans monthly visit in September 1987, and the last being in September 1991, to stand down the post.
It's surreal to think that in September 1991, this book was simply placed back on the desk for the last time, and the staff left, never to return, and it's still here to this day. The majority of the communication equipment was removed, because that stuff was probably expensive. But to be honest, it's sad to think that after all that commitment to keeping our country safe, this place was just left to gather dust.
There's a bottle of sodium chloride for eye irrigation. That is, it would be applied to wash the eyes. This bottle expired in October 1988 so I wouldn't recommend using it now.
Here's a food rationing sheet, oddly sellotaped to the wall after the beam was painted yellow. It makes one wonder if maybe the peculiar colour scheme was applied during the days when it was still manned.
Under the desk was a sorry sight. It appears to be a rabbit. These bunkers are concrete, so any animal that falls down the hatch cannot simply burrow out. This rabbit must have tumbled down the hatch and starved to death. There's still flesh on the bones. It's pretty grim.
And here's an old Cold War stretcher, designed to carry someone if they were injured, still complete with an instruction sheet on how to strap someone to it.
A few bits of old telecom equipment.
There's an air vent at the back, which is closeable in the event of a nuclear strike.
And here's a nice little sign informing visitors that if there's any injury to them in the post, the Ministry of Defence will not be held responsible. Isn't that nice?
The real treasure was this vintage bottle of sparkling lemonade. It lost its sparkle some time ago.
It expired in January 1987. At the time of writing this, in three months, this lemonade will be thirty-two years old.
Would you drink it?
That was it for the actual bunker, but nearby was this little structure called an Orlit.
The Orlit predates the bunker, being constructed around 1951. Following World War 2 there was a big emphasis on watching out for enemy aircraft, given the fact that we'd just had our cities bombed periodically for six years. The Orlits came in two variations, referred to as Orlit A and Orlit B. The Orlit B was different in that it was on stilts with a ladder heading up to it. This one isn't raised, but it's still on top of a great big hill, so stilts would likely be a redundant feature. In the middle of the Orlit would have been a central post, upon which would have been the circular plotting chart used to monitor the trajectory of an aircraft.
As the Cold War escalated and watching out for nuclear blasts became a higher priority, the Orlits soon became obsolete and the Royal Observer Corps moved underground.
Resting on top of the Orlit is an old door lock, possibly taken from the Orlits original door.
That's pretty much all there is to see though, except for the view, which is bloody awesome, and would have made the trek somewhat worthwhile even if the bunker had been locked.
The view is magnificent. I feel like I should plant a flag or something, with some sort of symbol. The problem is, I don't really have one. If I had flags made, what would my symbol even be? A top hat shaved on a pubic region or something? Thats a project for another day!
To conclude, I find the remains of such Cold War relics sad in their dereliction. Many of these bunkers still retain contents from the era, and in a way are little museums of the time period that should, in my opinion, be preserved, not rotting away in fields. The real crime is that one needs to trespass in order to appreciate these things.
That's all I got. Next time I'll be visiting... well, seeing is believing on that one. In the meantime, follow my Instagram, like my Facebook, subscribe to my Youtube and follow my Twitter.
Thanks for reading!
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