Atomic Thunder

by Elizabeth Tynan

  In 1952, the order came from Minister for Supply Howard Beale that all Aboriginal people based at Ooldea would have to move to Yalata, about 120 kilometres south, in preparation for the start of British nuclear tests at Emu Field. Yalata was part of an old sheep station purchased by the South Australian government. It became a Lutheran-run mission for Aborigines forced to leave Ooldea. Many people from the Maralinga lands are there still. The 1984 Kerr Report found that

  the closure of the mission at Ooldea Soak in June 1952 in order to remove several hundred Aborigines further south to Yalata mission … was of considerable anthropological significance. This was because rapid dislocation from their homelands caused confusion and distress among the Ooldea people which is held to be a major reason for the depressed and unhealthy state of the contemporary Yalata community – and is reflected also in other settlements containing dislocated Aborigines, for instance Cundalee [sic], Gerard and Ernabella.

  The Aboriginal people of the Maralinga lands had complex ties to this arid place. Numerous groups of about 25 men, women and children constantly traversed the territory, encountering each other and reforming into new groups. At important ceremonial occasions, smaller groups also merged together for short times. As Europeans started to infiltrate the area in the 19th and early 20th centuries, some new patterns of Aboriginal activity began to develop. The opening up of pastoral stations brought the prospect of paid work for the first time, and the transcontinental railway offered opportunities for trade. Also, new movements of people were detected from the Warburton Ranges and the Gibson Desert towards Laverton, Mt Margaret, Kalgoorlie and Wiluna. People started travelling from Oodnadatta to Granite Downs too. In general, the early part of the 20th century saw considerable change in the way traditional owners moved around the land. The arrival of Europeans disrupted aeons-old movement patterns.

  When the enormous Woomera Prohibited Area was declared in 1946, there were perhaps not as many Indigenous people pursuing traditional ways of life on the territory covered by the range as there had been 50 years before. But they had not ceased. The Royal Commission report found, ‘The country was still used for hunting and gathering, for temporary settlements, for caretakership and spiritual renewal, and for traverse by people who moved from locations to other areas within and outside what became the prohibited areas’.

  The Woomera project potentially affected far more people than that at Maralinga, since it involved firing rockets hundreds of kilometres across the centre of Australia. In February 1947 a meeting brought together various state and federal government authorities concerned with Aboriginal affairs, along with the anthropologists Professor AP Elkin, of Sydney University, and Dr Donald Thomson, and a Scottish medical doctor and Aboriginal rights campaigner, Charles Duguid. Duguid had campaigned against the land being used for rocket testing since 1946 and was a strong advocate for the Indigenous peoples. The meeting discussed two main issues: the physical danger from falling or exploding missiles and the acceleration of ‘the de-tribalisation process in an uncontrolled and destructive fashion’. Duguid and Thomson, in particular, were concerned that testing military weaponry in the area would fatally disrupt the traditions of the Aboriginal inhabitants. Duguid fought hard against the proposal and resigned from the Aborigines Protection Board when he was unsuccessful. The upshot from that meeting was the creation of the position of native patrol officer in the federal Department of Supply.

  Walter MacDougall was appointed, initially temporarily, as the first native patrol officer, beginning a legendary career. Tall, thin, gingery and very, very white-skinned, he was based out of Woomera. He carried the scars of an outback life – he was missing his right thumb and forefinger after accidentally blowing them off with his Winchester rifle out bush. He began work without even a designated vehicle and had to make increasingly long trips (sometimes over 6400 kilometres) alone. He was intelligent, empathetic and dedicated, and wrote long and impassioned reports and letters about his work. His was one of the few voices raised in support of the Aborigines during the rocket and atomic bomb tests. Government officials and scientists working on the tests saw Indigenous people as no more than a slight inconvenience.

  MacDougall’s particular way of interacting with Aborigines looks paternalistic today and shows signs of what we would call tough love. However, there seems little doubt that he cared deeply about the plight of the people being displaced by the atomic tests and did everything in his meagre power to try to curtail the harm done. He advised them about safe places to move to, adjudicated on disputes, hired some Indigenous people for pay and food, administered medical help when able, ferried people to doctors for more serious conditions and generally kept an eye on the welfare of the Indigenous groups who passed through the Maralinga lands. Most of the medical emergencies he encountered involved spear wounds, poisoned limbs, split heads, burns and pneumonia. His reports provide a candid and often wry glimpse into the lives of people affected by the bomb tests.

  The territory affected was huge. Its outer extremes stretched across to Kalgoorlie in Western Australia, Port Augusta in South Australia and Alice Springs and the Canning Stock Route in the Northern Territory, an area referred to at the time as Western Central Australia, the Central Aboriginal Reserve or the Western Reserve. The areas under threat were centred on Warburton and Ernabella missions, at the eastern end of the Musgrave Ranges not far from the Northern Territory border. The northern limit of the Maralinga Prohibited Area passed through the southern portion of the Central Aboriginal Reserve. Howard Beale claimed the area was ‘so arid and waterless’ that Aboriginal people did not use it. That was simply untrue.

  MacDougall was a remarkable part of the story, and his compassion for the Indigenous people (even if tempered by condescension) made him incongruous. He was appointed a protector of Aborigines by South Australia in November 1947, after the Woomera tests began but well before the British atomic tests were planned for Australia. He was later awarded this same authority by the government in Western Australia. These appointments enabled MacDougall to enter or remain within the boundaries of any Aboriginal reserve or institution, in either state. He travelled extensively throughout the vast territory affected by the Maralinga and Woomera tests – a territory that eventually grew to around 800 000 square kilometres – and got to know the people well.

  In a sense, he had a hopeless task. There was really nothing Mac-Dougall could do to save the inhabitants of the area from the vast and rapidly moving British juggernaut. It would roll over anyone in its way, especially people who were unrepresented in Australian society. That he took on the doomed job, and did it for years to the best of his ability in a harsh country, is a measure of his passion and dedication.

  In 1954, the permanent test site had been newly named, surveyed and prepared for what was to come as MacDougall set out his views on the unfolding tragedy of the Aborigines of the Maralinga lands:

  Contact with white men has so far resulted in degeneration of the aborigines … Because of their own socialistic way of life, the generosity of their friends and friends’ employers, and government rations, they inevitably adopt the routine of moving from Station to Station for free food. The result is laziness, uselessness and loss of self-respect. They neither hunt nor work for their food and the evils of unemployment of able-bodied men are never brought home to them.

  MacDougall drew a sharp distinction between the tribal Aborigines, whom he mostly admired and whose lifestyle he considered to be healthy and in tune with their environment, and the ‘fringe natives’, who had been corrupted by the presence of Europeans and who, in his view, had a lesser moral character.

  MacDougall’s first nuclear weapons–related survey of January 1953, ahead of the two Totem shots in October that year, found 400 Aboriginal people who made their ‘headquarters’ either at Ernabella and Kenmore Park or Everard Park, Granite Downs and Cullens. According to MacDougall, ‘These people live largely off the land, their only other source of supplies being bounty from d
ingo scalps and government rations. Their ceremonial life is still very active’. MacDougall proposed a full survey, to determine exactly who was there and to what extent weapons testing would affect their way of life. He asked for a Land Rover with trailer, fuel, tools, camping gear, rations (including a tin of dripping), a rifle, a camera, a compass and a cash advance of £5. The survey would cover 3200 kilometres and take four or five weeks, visiting all the Indigenous camps in the Everard and Musgrave ranges.

  The trip proved quite an adventure. MacDougall encountered some unexpected setbacks, due mainly to a lack of co-operation.

  Whilst I have known most of these people for a long time, I have not had an opportunity to discuss with them their secret life, their relationships, their spiritual home country nor their water supplies or camping and hunting areas. These people are reluctant to discuss such important aspects of their tribal life with just anybody and it was not until they fully realised that I knew most of their secret life anyway and that I was not to be put off with any cock and bull story or half truths, that I was able to obtain the information that I required. I am afraid that I was led upon arrival upon several wild goose chases at the beginning.

  In September 1953, a few weeks before the first Totem test at Emu Field, MacDougall conducted a patrol of the area. ‘The particular object of the patrol was to see where the 172 Jangkuntjara [sic] Tribe people were situated after the annual [dingo] pup [hunting] season exodus, and if necessary move them out of the prohibited areas.’ His first contact was at Wallatinna. From there he travelled on a long and complicated path to Roxby Downs, Parakylia, Mt Eba, Coober Pedy, Mabel Creek, Mt Willoughby, Wintinna and Welbourne Hill. MacDougall was well acquainted with the rhythms of the Indigenous seasons and knew more or less where he could find tribal people at various times of the year. He recorded that ‘on Sunday 27 Sep I reported to the [Woomera] Site per radio that all aborigines were accounted for and that I could return to Woomera via Kingoonya’.

  In December 1953, MacDougall was on the road again, looking for older tribesmen previously based at Ooldea Soak to confer with. He believed that the increased activity by Europeans around Emu Field and Maralinga would be attracting them to the area. ‘I believe that a party with camels have been to Tietkens Well Area in the last few days obviously attracted by signs of whiteman activity.’ He constantly fretted, with good reason, that the more the white men made themselves apparent, the more the lives of the Indigenous people would be derailed.

  MacDougall suggested a new trip in January 1954, to get a better understanding of what the Indigenous people were doing and how to deal with it:

  The first move is to discover just what is likely to attract them. Ceremonial grounds, hunting conditions, water supplies etc. from their point of view. Secondly, everyday life conditions in their new area, also availability of new suitable ceremonial areas and to encourage the establishment of such areas.

  MacDougall began this patrol on 13 January at Ooldea. The next day he encountered 300 Aborigines at Monburu tank, where ‘Pastor Strelen was in charge’. He selected one of them, a young man named Sonny Williams, to accompany him on the rest of the trek, which took in three sacred sites. MacDougall’s aim was to ensure that any sacred objects were removed from the sites, thus removing an attraction for the Aboriginal people to visit. He held the mistaken belief that moving sacred objects such as ‘totem poles’ would mean the sites would lose their sacred status. He found that sacred objects had indeed been removed: ‘All significance lost’. (Possibly Indigenous people removed these when they were forced to Yalata, though MacDougall’s notes were unclear about this.) Many years later, the Royal Commission examined this point and found that:

  MacDougall’s basic assumption was incorrect: removing sacred objects did not change Ooldea’s status as a birth, death and dreaming site. Nor could this overcome the problem (for MacDougall) of people wanting to use Ooldea as a stepping-off point for sites to the north and west, or of people wanting to visit Ooldea from the north.

  However, in 1954, MacDougall held that view that young people would not assign the same significance to the sites as the old people had, and that over a relatively short time the meaning of these sites, lost to weapons testing, would be lost to future generations too.

  Secret life significance has ended mainly due to the lack of interest shown by the young people and the opposition to it by Missionaries. Owing to the fact that there are many of their relatives buried at Ooldea and that it is the actual birth place of many of them, there is a strong sentimental attachment. This will naturally die out in time.

  Establishing Maralinga meant eliminating the Aboriginal reserve at Ooldea. MacDougall was told that this had been achieved bureaucratically in a letter from the secretary of the South Australian Aborigines Department on 14 January 1955. It said bluntly:

  Please note that the whole of the Reserve for aborigines, being Section 263 … has been abolished. The area surrounding the Ooldea Soak is therefore not now an aboriginal reserve. It would be appreciated if you would remove any aborigines from this area when journeying through the district.

  With the stroke of a pen, the lives of thousands were changed forever. MacDougall concluded that Ooldea was of no further use to the Indigenous inhabitants because their totems had been removed: ‘No hardship would result from the withdrawal of the 900 square mile reserve provided some water supply is available at the Railway Siding’. There would be no impediment to nuclear testing from the traditional owners.

  Many life-changing decisions were being made at this time. In July 1955 the AWRE decided, and the newly constituted AWTSC agreed, that they would build a meteorological station on 20 hectares in the Rawlinson Range to the northwest of the test site, just over the border into Western Australia. The station, 1500 kilometres from Maralinga, was to be called Giles, after an early explorer, and would assist in forecasting weather conditions before, during and after the Maralinga tests. In particular, the Giles station had to track the movements of air way up in the stratosphere, the currents that would affect where the atomic cloud ended up. Len Beadell and his team were brought in to grade a track from Mulga Park to Giles.

  MacDougall had not yet been appointed a protector in Western Australia, so he had no jurisdiction there, but he was concerned about the effect of white people in a place frequented by Western Desert people who had had little contact with the West. When MacDougall threatened to make his concerns public via the Adelaide media, he was swiftly and brutally pulled into line. As Alan Butement made clear, the affairs of ‘natives’ were not to be placed ahead of the British Commonwealth. MacDougall was silenced and was only grudgingly allowed to participate in a September 1955 patrol to the Rawlinson Ranges with the Weapons Research Establishment’s senior range reconnaissance officer at Woomera, TR Nossiter, in preparation for the construction of the Giles station. By then, though, the decision to build Giles had already been taken. Nothing MacDougall said could stop it.

  Butement also complained in June 1956 that MacDougall was providing food to Indigenous people who had congregated at Giles, ‘which action is hardly likely to ensure their early departure’. As the first major trials at Maralinga were only months away, this was a significant irritant. For Butement the presence of Aboriginal people was not the only problem: ‘I believe that the natives are from time to time putting hazards on the jeep tracks in the form of spikes which at night time might cause a serious accident’.

  The weather station at Giles was disastrous for the Aboriginal people, according to MacDougall’s colleague Robert Macaulay, who was appointed as a second native patrol officer in 1956. He wrote in 1960:

  Giles Weather Station has had a marked effect on the Rawlinson Natives, increasing the number of wants they are unable to satisfy. Unless employment is made available soon, it could be said that the Weapons Research Establishment has not accepted the responsibility incurred in establishing a weather station in the Reserves.

  MacDougall’s report on one of hi
s endless trips around the soaks and camps of the Woomera area provides a cameo of life in that harsh environment. During his patrol of July 1955 he followed up a message he had received that ‘two women and an old fella’ were at a water hole called Warrapin. He discovered two old women but no man.

  They were very frightened and had not tasted white man’s food. They liked oatmeal, rice, damper, tea and sugar. They were very doubtful about anything from a tin. Their possessions consisted of the following: 1 digging stick each, 2 wooden dishes, each full of grass seed, 1 upper mill stone, 1 piece of iron rod, sharpened at one end, and one white dingo.

  MacDougall concluded that the bigger group had left the two old women behind ‘to fend for themselves for the rest of their lives’. He gleaned this from talking to the women and to the man who had found them, Frank the native guide. MacDougall and Frank talked the women into accompanying them to the Cundeelee Mission, run by the Australian Evangelical Mission, 40 kilometres north of Zanthus, ‘where they could be cared for in their old age’, but when it came time to go the women decided that they couldn’t leave their land. MacDougall left blankets, flour, rice, tea and sugar with them and went on his way. He had tried to get them to go to Cundeelee even though he did not think much of the place: ‘I was not favourably impressed by Cundeelee Mission. The Missionaries by their attitude suggested that they believed that the world owed the natives a free and easy living, an attitude that suggested that the natives should be given everything they want’. Cundeelee Mission, which had been under the control of the evangelical mission since 1950, held a sandalwood licence, and Aboriginal people were paid £26 per tonne of wood they harvested. Some handicrafts were made there too, in a sort of cottage industry. Part of the self-imposed role of the mission was to entice ‘bush natives’ away from their traditional lifestyles and evangelise them into its particular brand of Christianity.