Aldermaston 2004 - Small but perfectly formed

A huge fireball cleared everything in its path as the mushroom cloud reached into the sky. Strong winds swept whole buildings away. Human beings were vaporised in the intense heat or suffocated for lack of oxygen. Many died of their injuries or illnesses as a result of the radioactive fallout.

250,000 people were killed in the first few days after nuclear weapons were used on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945. It was the horror of the nuclear threat that persuaded thousands to join the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament in its historic march to the Aldermaston Atomic Weapons Establishment in 1958, centre of the British nuclear weapons programme.

The horror has not disappeared. Today, Britain’s nuclear weapons, mounted on four ‘Trident’ submarines, have 1344 times the power of the Hiroshima bomb. What’s more, it is planned at Aldermaston to research and develop a new generation of nuclear weapons - ‘Mini nukes’ and ‘Bunker busters’ that could actually be used on the battlefield.

This is why the Aldermaston march was re-enacted this Easter, to draw attention to these new developments. Would the next generation’s protest be listened to any more than the last? Indeed, is mass protest still relevant in Britain today? As a new recruit to CND Cymru I was anxious to find out. I was proud to be Wales’s only representative on the Youth and Student CND march from Oxford, later meeting up with the main march from Trafalgar Square, and walking together to Aldermaston for the climax of the 40 mile, 3 day long march.

We were graced for the duration by a heavy police presence - it appeared the police had misunderstood the meaning of a non-violent march and so had to keep themselves busy reading FHM in the back of their van. In Reading we met up with the main march from Trafalgar Square. That night, as I rolled out my sleeping bag in the accommodation provided for us at the Friends Meeting House, I noticed an elderly woman trying to get some sleep a few feet away. I apologised to her if we young people were too noisy. “Don’t worry,” she said, “It’s not the first time I’ve had to sleep on a march.” It turned out that 85-year-old Bobby had been on the first Aldermaston march in 1958. More than ever I felt I was marching in the footsteps of history.

Next day we moved on, now part of the bigger march, accompanied by a Samba band; the sun was shining, and spirits were riding high as people came out of their houses to cheer us on our way.

Later, right on cue, the sun went in and a deathly hush descended on the marchers, as the heavily fortified perimeter of the base we had walked 40 miles to protest against now loomed menacingly before us. Everyone was clearly shaken as they contemplated what lay behind the barbed wire.

Many people will ask me if anyone is likely to listen or if I made any difference by going on the march to Aldermaston this Easter. No, I don't believe the government will suddenly turn around and disarm Britain’s nuclear weapons programme. But I do believe that whether they like it or not, they've heard us. In the back of their minds we are a nagging conscience and we’re not going away in a hurry. If, by going on this march, I made one person question why Britain continues to develop and upgrade nuclear weapons, then I have achieved something. If everyone had stayed at home the government could be justified in thinking people didn’t have a problem with nuclear weapons any more. 85-year old Bobby knows she probably won’t live to see a world free of a nuclear threat, but that didn’t stop her joining the march. If you believe in an issue like this you have to raise your voice and exercise your rights. If you don't, you can’t complain when the government takes those rights from you. Back at school I’ll get plenty of stick for going on this march. But what did my school friends do over the bank holiday weekend? Stare at screens, watch the football, maybe even a bit of exam revision. I fought for what I believed in, and not for the last time.
Luke Pearce