�Pasaron!
I have been feeling like shit for the last couple of days. On the day of the blockade, I peeled myself out of bed at 6 am with the intention to go straight back to sleep when it was over but never did. Then in the evening we met up with one of John’s colleagues who is leaving and of course ended up back in the flat with a stockpile of cider and real ale. Then I had to get up every morning… Honestly, I can’t take the lifestyle any more. My age shows. Sorry for the delay in writing up the day’s events.
Better late than never…
When I cycled past the Tadley main gate at a quarter to seven that morning there was no sign of any protesters, just a gathering of police. Several of their vans and range rovers were driving down the street, circling the base. I kept going.
Close to where the peace camp is usually held, a small group of dishevelled activists were climbing out of a small car. This time it seemed we were late. It was also clear that this would be a much smaller protest than the last. As for instigating an actual blockade—well…
Timidly we stepped onto the tarmac. The police only needed to gesture for us to retreat behind the white line that divided the street, leaving half for their vehicles and the other half for workers at the base to pass through, most of them staring straight ahead as they approached the gate. There was not a good vibe in the air today. And there were only six of us. But one of them had stood among all the cops on his own. At first, his yellow jacket and the thing he wore on his head made me mistake him for another officer, but then he turned around. The thing on his head was a paper-maché missile complete with red nose and the slogan ‘no more nukes’ on it. He had stood in front of the gate, stoically and unmoving, since before I arrived and would stand there for hours to come. It was an uplifting sight.
As the sun continued to rise in the sky, we were joined by a few straddlers. Now at least one side of the driveway was lined with banners and people were waving leaflets at the passing cars. The woman holding the other end of my banner gestured and we crossed over to where the others stood on the grass, inadvertently blockading an incoming car for perhaps 3 seconds.
“Let’s go to the other gate!” somebody whispered to her.
I joined them, keen for a little walk. My arms had gone stiff holding up that banner.
“This is the gate the contractors come through”, another explained. There were only a few police there, but that was alright because now there were only four of us.
“If a lorry approaches”, she continued: “We’ll rush in front and block it!
We—what?!
You have probably seen lorries from up close, but as twenty tons of steel slowly bore down on us I was quaking in my boots. The stern expression of the cop moving towards us did nothing to calm me down. If this was Germany, he’d already radioed for armed reinforcements. What in hell was I doing?
I am sure the others could smell my fear.
We moved back over to the side quickly enough, but they seemed to view this as a mere warm-up.
“Eh, do you mind holding this banner instead?” I asked number 4 who stood next to me: “I know it sounds stupid, but I can’t really afford to get arrested…”
Oh God, yes, that does sound stupid!
Naturally, there were no more lorries. I had asserted my cowardice.
We returned to the main gate. I was relieved. It had been my intention to protest, but not to blockade. The others (all of them) are made of sterner stuff than me. And I am more comfortable taking part in events with more people. I am no longer 16.
The protest ended at 9 am when everybody at AWE had managed to get to work. (The majority had arrived around 7:30. 7:30! —You won’t catch me applying for a job there.). We all felt a little dejected, but six or seven passing vehicles had tooted their horns in solidarity, making me feel like part of a picket line. For all I know they thought we were base workers on strike; the traffic had kept moving throughout and we had not managed to hand out a single leaflet. Still…
We gathered on a patch of lawn opposite the base for our debriefing. A grey-haired man wearing a sweater walked around the corner of the adjoining house and straight towards us. We all thought he was going to tell us to clear off from his land. Instead he invited us to tea. A supporter. A neighbour! All was not in vain.
With time I hope that the protest will grow. A British breach of the nonproliferation treaty is a very serious issue indeed. The cold war might be over, but the nuclear menace is far from gone. Our only hope for peace in a changing world is adhering to our promises of nonproliferation. There should be thousands of us protesting at that base.
Tags: AWE, events, Peace, Tadley, Tadley Times, Tag Index
Denni