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Britain and the H-bomb by Lorna Arnold, Palgrave, £15.99, ISBN
0333947428

THE British nuclear weapons factory at Aldermaston in Berkshire was not, says
Lorna Arnold, “a natural home for chauvinists, warmongers or Dr Strangeloves”.
Its scientists were “heroes”, its chemists and engineers “brilliant”—even
their wives were “warm-hearted”, says Arnold.

Britain and the H-bomb—as you would expect from Britain’s official
nuclear historian—is a clear, detailed and authoritative history of the
most destructive weapon ever invented. But with the copyright retained by the
Ministry of Defence, it is not exactly a critical appraisal.

It does confirm, though, that the major reason for Britain’s crash H-bomb
programme—which came just months before the first moratorium on nuclear
tests, in October 1958—was not to frighten the Soviets, but to impress the
Americans. Arnold also provides fascinating insights into the obsessive secrecy
of British prime ministers, one of whom, Harold Macmillan, even kept military
chiefs of staff out of the loop on H-bomb tests.

Along the way we learn, that the major bomb components were called “Tom”,
“Dick” and “Harry”, that plasticine was key in its construction and that the
1.8-megaton Blue Danube fell in “a graceful arc in the morning sunlight”. But
when it comes to assessing the health effects on those who took part in the
tests or, for that matter, the morality or wisdom of nuclear deterrence, we get
little more than a regurgitation of the official line.