The Sutlers Supreme

NAAFI Goes Nuclear

Canteens, morale, and service in Britain’s first atomic test, 1952

In 1952, as Britain prepared to test its first atomic weapon, NAAFI personnel played a quiet but vital role in supporting the Task Force deployed to the remote and uninhabited Monte Bello Islands. Their work—often overlooked in official accounts—included provisioning, canteen setup, and the quiet logistics that sustained life on the edge of history. This page draws on NAAFI News and firsthand recollections to explore their contribution to Operation Hurricane: Britain’s first atomic test.

Map of Western Australia
(Australian War Memorial - P001 31 001)

These operations demanded immense logistical coordination, not only in the movement of equipment and personnel but also in sustaining daily life far from home. Among the many organisations supporting the effort was NAAFI, quietly fulfilling its familiar role of providing canteen services, supplies, and a touch of normality amid the isolation and secrecy of the test programme.

A pair of NAAFI News articles I came across in the ephemera collection sparked my curiosity and led me to explore NAAFI’s part in the first British atomic weapons test. Conducted in October 1952 on the Monte Bello Islands, Operation Hurricane saw NAAFI—through the Naval Canteen Service—deploy a team of sixteen men to support the personnel involved.

Members of the Naval Canteen Service
(NAAFI News - Summer 1953)

Convoys and the Naval Canteen Service

The NAAFI contingent assigned to Operation Hurricane was divided into two groups. As the operation fell under Royal Naval command, all sixteen men were drawn from the Naval Canteen Service (NCS). Their task was to provide canteen support to military and scientific personnel throughout the preparations.

Two separate convoys were organised for the journey to the Monte Bello Islands. The first comprised HMS Narvik and HMS Zeebrugge—both flat-bottomed Landing Craft Tanks (LCTs) vessels—while the second included HMS Campania, HMS Tracker (LCT), and HMS Plym. The NAAFI parties were distributed among these vessels, accompanying the Royal Engineers, Naval personnel, Royal Marines and civilian specialists bound for the remote test site.

To help set the scene, we can turn to Antony Irvin’s (District Manager) own account from NAAFI News, Summer 1953. His vivid recollection captures the long voyage to the Monte Bello Islands and offers a rare first-hand glimpse into the experiences of NAAFI personnel during Britain’s first atomic weapons test. We’ll let Irvin’s narrative carry us through the early stages of the deployment, up to his arrival at Monte Bello:

On Tuesday, February 19th, at 11 o'clock in the forenoon, two of Her Majesty's Ships left Portsmouth harbour for a secret destination. These ships were the Tank Landing Craft ‘Narvik’ and ‘Zeebrugge’, and they were on their way to make preparations for the testing of Britain's first atomic weapon.”

— Antony Irvin (District Manager), NAAFI News, Summer 1953

Sea voyage of first convoy - HMS Narvik & HMS Zeebrugge

The LCT's were heavily loaded with plant and materials belonging to the 180 Engineer Regiment (RE), who were responsible for constructing the facilities required for the test. The first group of NAAFI men, under District Manager Antony Irvin, sailed with them. These vessels—flat-bottomed and unwieldy in rough seas—rolled alarmingly as they crossed the Bay of Biscay, a discomfort Irvin recorded with wry understatement. The destination remained undisclosed to all aboard, reinforcing the strict secrecy that surrounded Operation Hurricane.

HMS Narvik
(authors own collection)

The First Convoy’s Long Voyage

After clearing Portsmouth, HMS Narvik and HMS Zeebrugge crossed the notoriously rough Bay of Biscay before calling at Gibraltar. From there, they steamed through the Mediterranean and the Suez Canal, entering the Red Sea where oppressive heat and cramped conditions made life aboard particularly trying. After a brief stop at Aden, the vessels continued across the Indian Ocean, pausing at Colombo, Ceylon.

“We stopped at Cocos Island to refuel and rest. It was a beautiful place, but the visit was marred by tragedy.”

— Antony Irvin (District Manager), NAAFI News, Summer 1953

The convoy’s scheduled stop at the Cocos (Keeling) Islands on 6 April 1952 was marked by loss. During shore leave, Able Seaman John Emery Atkinson of the Royal Navy entered the water to assist fellow servicemen caught in the surf beyond the reef. Two members of the Royal Australian Air Force—Leading Aircraftman Michael Paul Rowan and Aircraftman Peter James Eccleston, both of No. 2 Airfield Construction Squadron—joined the rescue attempt. All three men were lost. Press reports described perilous conditions: heavy seas, fifteen-foot waves, and jagged coral reefs that made rescue impossible.

Sunderland Echo - 9th April 1952

Continuing eastward, the vessels reached Fremantle, Western Australia, berthing on 16 April 1952. Their arrival was confirmed by press reports describing armed guards and wire barricades sealing off the ships—an outward sign of the secrecy surrounding their mission. The first convoy completed a voyage of almost 12,000 miles under conditions that tested endurance, discipline, and secrecy in equal measure.

“A Logistical Feat”: Loading the Second Convoy

As HMS Campania, flagship of the second convoy, lay berthed at Chatham Royal Naval Dockyard, the scale of NAAFI’s commitment came sharply into focus. Over a thousand cases of wardroom wines and spirits, 7,500 cases of canned beer, 540 cases of duty-free cigarettes, and nine months’ worth of general canteen stores were meticulously loaded aboard—an effort demanding stamina and precision. Yet the real weight was organisational: coordinating with the Ministry of Supply, Victualling, and Naval Stores within a single high-security operation.

“I lost over twelve pounds in weight through stowing cases of beer—but I could well afford to lose it. In any case, the good food aboard HMS Campania soon put it back again!”

— W. M. Stone, (Canteen Manager), HMS Campania

HMS Campania

(State Library Western Australia BA3263) 

Once loading was complete, Campania sailed for Portsmouth for further provisioning and the embarkation of aircraft, aircrews, and around eighty scientists. She was joined by the LCT HMS Tracker, which would serve as a medical vessel throughout the test period. On 2 June 1952 the two ships crossed a calm Bay of Biscay and rendezvoused with HMS Plym, a River-class frigate making her final voyage as the detonation platform for Britain’s first atomic device.

A Different Route, the Same Secrecy

Sea voyage of second convoy - HMS Campania, HMS Tracker & HMS Plym

Unlike the earlier sailing of HMS Narvik and HMS Zeebrugge, the second convoy followed a route shaped as much by secrecy as by logistics. HMS Plym, carrying the bomb assembled under guard at Stangate Creek near Sheerness, travelled without its fissile core; that critical component would only be installed once the ship was moored at the Monte Bello Islands.

HMS Plym
(State Library Western Australia BA3263)

After Gibraltar, the convoy continued south to the Canary Islands and onward to Freetown, Sierra Leone. The route then curved around the African coast to Simonstown, South Africa, where heightened security reflected the mission’s sensitivity. Entering the Indian Ocean, the ships paused at Mauritius before embarking on the longest leg to Fremantle, Western Australia. After several days under tight security, they sailed on to the Monte Bello Islands, arriving on 8 August 1952.

“No Shade, No Water”: The Monte Bello Islands

When HMS Narvik and HMS Zeebrugge arrived in late April 1952, they entered a landscape as remote as it was inhospitable. Situated at approximately 20° S, 115° E, the archipelago consists of three principal islands—Trimouille, Hermite, and North-West Island—enclosing a shallow lagoon navigable only with care due to coral heads and shifting sands.

The terrain was rugged and fissured; rocky coastlines were undercut by tidal action; vegetation was sparse—spinifex and scrub. There were no trees, no shade, and no natural water supply. The nearest mainland town, Onslow, lay some 80 miles to the south and could offer only minimal support.

The Monte Bello Islands
(State Library Western Australia BA3263)

“Extremely barren and devoid of all vegetation… low-lying and lacking all colour except a sandy shade.”

— Antony Irvin (District Manager), describing first impressions of Monte Bello

Yet once ashore, men found unexpected signs of life—birds (from large eagles to the rare spinifex bird), reptiles, and flowers. Fishing became a favourite off-duty pastime, and a rough football field was scraped from the hard ground—rough, admittedly, but good fun.

The Royal Engineers wasted no time in rigging a large marquee and constructing a Nissen hut as canteen facilities. Sited near the shoreline beside a small bay, the area even boasted a makeshift swimming pool, formed by enclosing part of the water with rocks. It became, as Irvin put it, “a very pleasing site for both the customers and the staff.

Royal Engineers at Work

Before HMS Campania, HMS Tracker, and HMS Plym arrived, the islands had already begun their transformation under the relentless labour of the Royal Engineers. Working six days a week—often seven—the men of 180 Engineer Regiment faced delays, shortages, and punishing heat. Quarrying, rock crushing, and concrete mixing were carried out with improvised equipment and local materials, including coral sand and seawater. Nissen huts, camera towers, and personnel piers rose from barren rock, while Royal Marines’ landing craft ferried men and supplies between scattered sites that stretched two hours north to south and one hour east to west.

 Nissen huts under construction
(RE Journal – September 1953, Vol. LXVII, No. 3

Rock crushing plant

(RE Journal – September 1953, Vol. LXVII, No. 3)

Concrete construction
(RE Journal – September 1953, Vol. LXVII, No. 3)

Despite the discomfort of living aboard crowded LCTs, morale held firm—buoyed by a sense of pioneering purpose and, crucially, by the presence of NAAFI’s canteens that stitched a thread of normality through an austere landscape.

Campania Joins the Fleet

After weeks of planning, provisioning, and passage, HMS Campania, HMS Tracker, and HMS Plym reached the Monte Bello Islands, joining HMS Narvik and HMS Zeebrugge already anchored in the lagoon. The fleet was complete, and the final phase of Operation Hurricane was underway. Campania, the flagship, remained moored outside the lagoon, exposed to the elements, while Royal Marines operated landing craft to ferry personnel and supplies ashore.

Landing craft at use
(RE Journal – September 1953, Vol. LXVII, No. 3)

As the operation expanded, NAAFI’s presence grew alongside it. A marquee and Nissen hut provided the first shore canteen on Hermite Island, later joined by a beer bar on South East Island, erected by the Royal Engineers beside a netted swimming bay. These facilities soon became vital gathering points for ship’s companies, Royal Marines, engineers, and the growing number of Ministry of Supply scientists—the ‘boffins’—whose arrival filled the islands with instruments, cables, and anticipation.

“Strange faces appeared… and we learnt that they were Ministry of Supply scientists… all sorts of mysterious gadgets appeared everywhere.”

— W. M. Stone, (Canteen Manager) HMS Campania

The Boffins and the Bomb

While the ships of the Task Force waited at anchor, a small army of scientists — the so-called boffins — were hard at work on the Monte Bello Islands. Since early September 1952, they were busy going over the complex web of instruments and communications equipment that would record Britain’s first atomic explosion. The full dress rehearsal took place between 18–19 September. 

Sunderland flying boat 
(State Library Western Australia BA3263)

It was on the first day of the practice run that a Sunderland flying boat arrived carrying the final and dangerous part of equipment. This was the radioactive core of the weapon which had flown from England via Singapore. Now, with the real core fitted into the real bomb, the line between rehearsal and detonation had vanished. The Monte Bello operation was as much a feat of nerve as of science — a strange meeting of naval order and scientific curiosity, under a sky waiting for the flash that would mark the dawn of Britain’s atomic age.

“NOW!” — The Detonation

By early October 1952, all was ready. Britain’s chief atomic scientist, Dr William Penney, had arrived and was accommodated aboard HMS Campania with the Admiral. Shore canteens were reduced to skeleton operation as personnel were withdrawn to the ships. Weather reports were anxiously watched: the wind had to carry radioactive debris away from the Australian mainland. When the forecast finally met these conditions, D-Day minus one was declared and the squadron put to sea.

At 0900 hours on Friday, 3 October 1952, all who wished to witness the test mustered on Campania’s flight deck. The morning was brilliantly clear, the sea calm, the air charged with expectation. As Antony Irvin recalled, “we were all instructed to face aft… and the time to Zero Hour, 9.30 a.m., was piped.” A hush fell over the deck as the countdown began.

At Zero—“NOW!”—a blinding flash, fifty times brighter than the sun, tore across the horizon. John Carr, a former crew member of HMS Plym who watched the detonation from the deck of HMS Campania, later wrote that the light “immediately confused the beautiful morning and seared into our brains… its reflection on everything around us was startling.” For a few seconds there was absolute silence—only the hum of the ship’s generators—then came the shockwave: a deep, rolling thunder that pressed in on the ears and chest, followed by a warm gust that rippled the sea’s surface.

— John Carr (ex-RN crew of HMS Plym), Scarborough Maritime Heritage Centre

When the order came—“You may look now”—an immense, twisting column of smoke and debris was already rising to some 33,000 feet, its base spreading to engulf the islands. The blast had vaporised HMS Plym—1,400 tons of steel—leaving a crater on the seabed 20 feet deep and 1,000 feet across. W. M. Stone later recorded the tension and quiet relief that followed: “Excitement came to a climax with the countdown… and then it was all over. Gradually everybody dispersed.” The next day, Dr Penney addressed the ship’s company, thanking them and explaining the significance of what they had witnessed: Britain had joined the nuclear age.

The aftermath of the explosion
(State Library Western Australia BA3263)

In the days that followed, crews ventured back into the lagoon to survey the devastation. Carr recalled scorched and blackened vegetation, and a sandy cliff line “now completely gone.” The landscape, he wrote, had been “totally and irrevocably changed forever.”

Reflection

Looking back on Operation Hurricane today, it is impossible not to reflect on the courage—and the cost—borne by those who took part. At the time, little was truly understood about the long-term effects of radiation exposure, and safety measures were shaped as much by secrecy and urgency as by scientific certainty. For the servicemen, engineers, scientists, and NAAFI staff who served at Monte Bello, there was pride in being part of history, but few could have imagined the hidden dangers that accompanied it.

In retrospect, NAAFI’s role stands as a quiet testament to service under extraordinary circumstances. Its canteens offered not only food and refreshment, but a link to normality in a place defined by isolation and experiment. Among the many who witnessed Britain’s first atomic detonation, the men of the Naval Canteen Service were not simply bystanders—they were part of the story.

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Author’s Note:
This article draws upon first-hand and contemporary accounts of Operation Hurricane, Britain’s first atomic weapons test, to explore NAAFI’s role and the experiences of those who took part.

Sources:

• NAAFI News – Summer 1953, p. 8–9, “Operation Hurricane” by Antony Irvin
• NAAFI News – Summer 1953, p. 9, “Aboard HMS Campania” by W. M. Stone
• Royal Engineers Journal – September 1953, Vol. LXVII, No. 3, p. 203–215, “RE in the Montebello Trial” by Lt.-Col. A. P. Smith
• Scarborough Maritime Heritage Centre – “Operation Hurricane” by John Carr (Ex RN)
• Sunderland Echo – 9 April 1952, p. 4, “Lost in Rescue Bid”

With thanks to the archives and collections that preserve these accounts, allowing us to remember the people behind Operation Hurricane.

Editor’s Note: The NAAFI News articles are available to download: NAAFI NEWS – Summer 1953, pages 8-9