“This is the Wartime Broadcasting Service. This country has been attacked with nuclear weapons."
If atomic war broke out how would Britain react? Well from 1953 to 1992 the UK had a detailed plan to break the news to citizens.
Let's take a look at it...
During WWII the BBC had plans for a Wartime Broadcasting Service, in case Britain’s main cities were knocked out by German bombers. BBC staff would move to Wood Norton, a stately home in Worcestershire, to provide an emergency radio service.
Once WWII ended the BBC had vague plans to recreate the Wartime Broadcasting Service if Soviet bombers launched a nuclear attack. It would provide information, encouragement and ‘diversions’ - music, drama, comedy and religious programmes - for the irradiated population.
In 1953 that the Four Minute Warning public alert system was put in place in the UK; a co-ordinated plan to alert the public to a nuclear attack. Four minutes was the time between detecting an incoming Soviet ICBM and its detonation over British soil.
It wasn’t much time…
...and nobody really wanted to own it. The RAF and the Home Office both insisted triggering the Four Minute Warning was the other’s responsibility. They were wary of being blamed if a false alarm was raised, or if an attack happened without a warning being issued.
By the 1960s the RAF had set up a ballistic missile early warning system at Fylingdales in North Yorkshire, which would trigger the Four Minute Warning process. Previously the UK government had relied on Jodrell Bank observatory to detect any attack.
The UK Warning and Monitoring Organisation (UKWMO) would then use the HANDEL warning system: the “Attack Warning RED!” command would be transmitted via the Post Office Speaking Clock network to all police stations, who would then activate local air attack sirens.
The UKWMO had a number of volunteers who were trained to monitor and measure the strength of any atomic attack. Many of the volunteers were school science teachers and in the event of nuclear war they would head to their designated area control bunker.
Meanwhile the Four Minute Warning would be broadcast on all TV and radio channels from a special studio in BBC Broadcasting House, before a single radio service – Radio 4 – took over from a bunker in Wood Norton. “Stay tuned to this wavelength, stay calm and stay in your homes.”
Initially the BBC planned to broadcast The Sound of Music, Hancock’s Half Hour, I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue and other popular programmes to distract people from the apocalypse. However this idea was later dropped as it could lead to citizens wasting their radio batteries.
In the run up to any war a Civil Defence Information Bulletin would be broadcast on all TV channels, telling the public what they could do to prepare for armageddon. Turning off the gas and not flushing the lavatory were some of the helpful tips it had for worried citizens.
In 1980 a new series of films and leaflets – called Protect and Survive – were created by the Home Office. The films were produced by the same company that made the Charlie Says child safety cartoons.
Protect and Survive explained the various air attack warnings, how to make a fall-out room and what to do with the dead. Many anti-nuclear groups distributed the leaflet widely as they felt it actually discredited the idea of nuclear deterrence – it was a terrifying read!
In 1992 the national air attack sirens were dismantled; they were hard to hear through double glazing. A new National Attack Warning System was introduced in 2003, although by 2012 it became clear this analogue system wouldn’t really work in a world of digital TV.
So what's the current comms plan in case of nuclear attack? Will we get a text? Do we need to check Twitter? Is there an emoji for the Apocalypse? Nobody is really sure. But if the bomb drops I know where I will be.
More stories another time...
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In the shadowy corners of the shortwave spectrum lurk the Numbers Stations: strange radio broadcasts of mysterious blocks of numbers in creepy monotone voices!
It's actually an old form of spycraft which is still in use today. Let's take a listen...
A Numbers Station is a type of one-way voice link for sending information to spies in foreign countries. Operating on Short Wave radio bands they transmit a secret code of spoken numbers.
Use of Numbers Stations peaked during the Cold War, but some are still operating today.
Numbers Stations are operated by various national intelligence agencies. At set times on a pre-arranged frequency a musical tone is played, followed by a speech synthesised voice reading out blocks of numbers. To most listeners it sounds both creepy and meaningless.
Today in pulp I revisit a mystery of the recent past: did ‘John Titor’ really travel back in time from 2038 to the year 2000 to warn us about an apocalyptic future? And why was he so keen on getting his hands on a 1975 IBM 5100 computer?
Let’s find out...
In 1998, US radio talk-show host Art Bell read out a fax from a man claiming to be from the future. Two years later the same man, calling himself Time_Traveler_0, left similar messages on the Time Travel Instutute’s internet forum.
They told a strange tale…
“Greetings. I am a time traveler from the year 2036. I am on my way home after getting an IBM 5100 computer system from the year 1975.”
For the next two years Time_Traveler_0, now calling himself John Titor, would leave many similar messages on internet forums.
The Bawdyguard, by John Dexter. Nightstand Books, 1971.
'John Dexter' didn't actually exist. It was a house alias - along with J X Williams - for a range of writers knocking out cheesy sex pulp for Greenleaf publishing. At least 20% of each novel had to be sex scenes with the other 80% titillation, voyeurism or padding. Not much space for character arcs or a hero's journey...
Greenleaf initially specialized in sci-fi magazines, until they discovered sex was selling better. A number of writers were quietly supplying novels for both scenes. Robert Silverberg, Harlan Ellison and Donald E Westlake all provides pseudonymous sex novels for the publisher.
Case 32: High Marks For Malice (1989). Nordic knits always work and they're great for detectives. Pastels are very flattering but you'll need a good lint roller if it's a long case you're investigating. This is a clear fashion win.
Case 51: A Model Crime (1990). Gold is a hard colour to pull off, but the details are on point here: single button and shoulder pads make it a power look and Nancy has sensibly avoided the '90s waitcoat trend. Another win.