The 1980s.

Big hair, weird clothes, great music.

Also the height of the Cold War. The global conflict between The West and The USSR for dominance of power. While mostly consigned to the annals of history, it is often forgotten just how near our nations came to escalating conventional conflict to a nuclear one. We came close. Very close. In fact, it is now generally accepted that a KGB officer who MI6 recruited, averted an almost certain nuclear war. Oleg Gordievsky reported to his British Case Officers that the USSR believed that the large scale NATO exercise Able Archer ‘83 was actually a nuclear protocol to initiate a first strike. And that the USSR was desperately trying to ready their own nuclear weapons to beat the West to the punch. But for Gordievsky’s timely reporting, the Mutually Assured Destruction previously thought to be the inhibitor for any nation deploying nuclear weapons, would have been the effect rather than the deterrent.

But that’s not the end of the threat from nuclear weapons during this period. Not by a long chalk and, until now, not very well known.

North Sea, off Arbroath, Scotland, Mid 1980s:

The ageing trawler rose and fell on the swells of the pewter sea, the bow sending plumes of white spume to each side as it cleaved the cold, grey water on its southbound heading. At the other end of the boat, dirty, acrid smoke belched into the air as the engine laboured to maintain forward progress. Cables, drums, floats and nets dominated the rear decks, the standard paraphernalia of many a fishing trawler prowling the sea for cod and other white fish. A crewman appears on deck, pulling his thin jacket tighter against him while he grimaces at the keen wind and tries to light a cigarette. After several attempts, he finally succeeds and takes a deep draw, savouring the nicotine hit with the hint of a smile. He takes in the land to his west; the Angus coastline. Beaches, cliffs, and patchwork green farmland. He knows that beyond this, and just out of sight to him at the moment, is 45 Commando Royal Marines. The most northern based unit of the Commandos. He knows this not because he is an Arbroath local, or indeed, any kind of local to the region. No, he knows this because he has been briefed and trained. Selected for this very special role. A role he has been carrying out for several years now.

He knows this because he is Spetsnaz.

A special forces soldier of the USSR.

This is the fifth time he has deployed on one of these covert operations to the UK. He and his team jokingly refer to the mission as ‘checking on the children’. They find it amusing as, ultimately, it accurately reflects the nature of their operation. Going back to check on something that has been left alone for some time. Flicking his cigarette stub into the wind, a noise attracts his attention and he nods as the other members of his team arrive on deck, the t-shirts and shorts telegraphing their intent: PT. Physical Training. He and his men pride themselves on maintaining peak physical condition and being stuck on a slow moving trawler for over a week was still no excuse for dropping standards. Removing his coat, he joins the team as they pair off for a punishing circuit of chin-ups, press-ups, squats, burpees, sit-ups and tuck-jumps until they are breathless, muscles exhausted and heavy with lactic acid. Circuit complete, the team smile and slap each other on the shoulder with affection before making their way back down to their quarters where they will wash, dress, and prepare for the afternoon brief from Moscow.

As the trawler maintains its steady course, in a small copse of trees near the shoreline to the south of Arbroath, a bearded man steps back from the enormous lens and camera supported by a tall tripod. He speaks to a second man casually leaning against the trunk of a Scots Pine.

‘Bloody PT. Can you believe it?’

The second man chuckles his reply. ‘I know. For a minute there I thought they were going to bust out some of that karate bullshit they love practicing.’

The first man grins and nods as he sets about dismantling the camera configuration. ‘Must be the only trawlermen in the world who smash out burpees and push-ups three times a day.’

The second man turns and takes a knee, picking up the handset of a large radio and speaking into it.

‘SUNRAY, this is DELTA TWO. WHAM! remain on SIERRA course. OVER.’

A burst of static precedes the response and the man nods, satisfied that his message was received, understood and that DELTA THREE will now resume tracking of the trawler and its team of Spetsnaz operatives on its southbound course. He and his DELTA TWO colleagues will collapse this Observation Post and leap-frog the other DELTAs currently positioned along the coast. His team’s final destination is an area of forest in the county of Suffolk, South East England. He shivers as the cold breeze strengthens and he is grateful that this wasn’t a maritime tasking. The thought of finning miles out to sea freezing his arse off was not a pleasant prospect but, as an experienced team leader in the SBS, the Special Boat Squadron, pretty much his bread and butter. Still, not this time. Land based surveillance and observation with a bit of Close Target Reconnaissance for the final objective. As he assists his team mate in stowing the camera gear back into the nylon bags, a smile crosses his face as he wonders what the pop band Wham! would think if they knew their name had been assigned to a team of Russian special forces. The name was chosen because one of the Russian operatives had blonde streaks in his hair and bore a passing resemblance to the group’s lead singer. The Team Leader was pretty certain that the real WHAM! wouldn’t be particularly impressed . . .

Thetford Forest, Suffolk, England, one week later:

They appear first on the thermal imager. The heat signature of their bodies glowing a brighter white than the surroundings. They move slowly, pausing often and monitoring the ground before them, looking for any sign of human presence. From the shapes of their profiles on the monitor, the DELTA TWO Team Leader notes that the Spetsnaz are carrying assault rifles and wearing Night Vision Goggles. He’d anticipated as much and is confident that he and his team will remain undetected for the duration of the operation. This, after all, is their role. Observe, monitor, and record. Then later, once the Soviet guests had departed, Access; the most sensitive aspect of the operation. But that would be greatly assisted by the footage from the dozen or so infrared cameras covering the objective.

The Team Leader’s attention is brought back to the task at hand as two of the Spetsnaz operatives patrol between the trees before pausing their advance and waiting several minutes in silence. After some time, one of them retrieves a device from his pack and moves it in small circles above the ground. Whatever the device is, it eventually emits a tiny light, barely visible in the dark of the forest, and the man stops, takes a knee and scrapes at the surface of the forest floor. The SBS Team Leader watches as the Spetsnaz operative reaches back into his pack and retrieves a folding shovel which he extends and uses to excavate deeper into the soil. His companion joins him and both men continue their slow, methodical digging for almost fifteen minutes. The mounds of soil obscure the view of what the men are looking for but the Team Leader isn’t concerned. He already knows what it is.

A hatch.

A circular, sealed entrance to a pre-fabricated underground bunker. A bunker stocked with enough food, water, gas, camping stoves, mats, sleeping bags, medical kits, chemical toilet, weapons and ammunition to sustain a team of four men. He knows because the Spooks told him. The information from an MI6 Asset in Russia on pre-positioned Spetsnaz redoubts located around the UK. Ready and waiting for the day the USSR’s finest troops would return to them to wreak havoc in advance of a Soviet offensive. Or even just as guerrilla warfare, causing chaos and mayhem in an attempt to destabilise the rule of government and law. While the Team Leader and his SBS colleagues had been briefed that there were other such bunkers up and down the length of the country, this one was of particular interest due to its proximity to the RAF bases at Lakenheath and Mildenhall. These key strategic locations were undoubtedly earmarked as priority targets by the Soviets in order to strike at the joint US and UK capability housed there.

It takes the Spetsnaz operatives over an hour to complete their business with the bunker. DELTA TWO’s Team Leader notes the careful manner in which the Soviet special forces soldiers cover and conceal the entrance to the bunker and carefully erase any trace of ground disturbance they have created. As they came, so they withdraw; slow, measured steps, weapons ready and scanning the area around them as they melt back into the dense foliage around them and eventually disappear from the monitor. It is five minutes before the call comes through his earpiece from his watcher at the roadside.

“WHAM! mobile and area clear, I say again, area clear.”

The Team Leader acknowledges and crawls backwards from his cover position until he can stand, brushing the loose forest debris from his camouflage jacket and trousers. He fires off a flurry of commands over the radio and within seconds, the rest of his team emerge from the undergrowth. The headlights of a vehicle flicker between the trees and he makes his way towards it, aware that it will stop at the clearing on the edge of the forest. On reaching the clearing, he sees a group of individuals engaged in all manner of activity around a large Transit van. Some are donning ‘noddy’ suits; personal protective clothing to shield them from nasty stuff like chemicals or biological agents. But the suits also protect against another lethal element: Radiation. More specifically, nuclear radiation. And that’s exactly why the two boffins from Aldermaston and whatever other secret organisations they worked for were getting suited up alongside two of the SBS operators. The special forces soldiers would gain entry into the underground bunker, taking care to neutralise the concealed ‘tells’ that the Spetsnaz had placed in various locations in the vicinity of the hatch and entranceway. Once clear, the boffins would follow and make their way to the reason they had been brought to a secret bunker in a Suffolk forest:

The nuclear bombs.

Or, to be more accurate, the nuclear suitcase bombs. Portable nuclear devices designed for mobility and quick emplacement. The Team Leader shakes his head at the thought of the damage these devices could unleash upon innocent civilians. The blast alone, bad enough, but the radiation poisoning and sickness that followed . . . his skin itches at the mere thought of this scenario. His earpiece cackles to life with the update that his men have gained access and that the entranceway is clear. The Team Leader acknowledges and walks to the rear of the van where the rest of his team watch the live camera feed from the pair of operators in the bunker. The monitor shows neat, stacked shelving units, tinned food, bottled water, rolled up sleeping bags. Collapsed cot beds in one corner and in the other, two large, hard plastic cases.

The nukes.

A second monitor kicks into life and a new camera feed shows a close up of the cases. An individual enters the scene and leans in to study the cases closely, his head a misshapen cone in the protective suit. The Team Leader nods as his CME man, Covert Method of Entry man, studies the locks on the cases. After several moments the man’s gloved hands begin moving the dials of the combination locks slowly and with pressure. This takes time as he identifies each number by the almost imperceptible click he feels when the correct digit reaches the latch. Within fifteen minutes, he has the cases unlocked and steps back to allow the boffins access to the cases and the lethal contents.

The Team Leader has never seen inside a nuclear suitcase bomb before and is fascinated as he watches the feed from the boffin’s chest-mounted camera. One element of the device reminds him of the pipe-bombs he’d seen in Northern Ireland, albeit larger and engineered to a far higher standard. Other components were less familiar but compatible with power, wiring, timing, and trigger mechanisms. Bombs were bombs at the end of the day and, nuclear or not, they all required roughly the same components to work together. He knows the plan is to remove the devices and make them safe in a protective, sanitised environment back in Aldermaston or some other specialist establishment. The SBS had been told by the spooks that, unless things changed drastically, the Spetsnaz were not expected to return to the site for another six months to ‘check on the children.’ If the Team Leader had his way, the Spetsnaz wouldn’t have left the forest alive after securing the bunker. But the spooks were adamant that the Russians had to be allowed to carry on as normal. Source protection and all that. Having been around the Security and Intelligence agencies for some years now, the Team Leader was no stranger to having to allow something to happen in order for the spooks to ensure the Source or Asset who provided the information was not compromised. And while he didn’t like it, the Team Leader had to accept it as an inevitable part of working with the spies.

Movement at the entrance to the bunker grabs his attention and he watches his CME man staggering into the open with one of the cases in his arms. The Team Leader will later find out that this bomb is the lighter of the two, around 30kg. The second case is manoeuvred up the stairs of the bunker and carried between the second SBS operator and one of the boffins. The team will later learn that this one was closer to 60kg in weight. While the cases are carefully secured in the rear of the Transit for the onward journey, the Team Leader and his men set about returning the bunker and its entrance back to its original state, careful to replace the Spetsnaz ‘tells’ back in place. Giving the now concealed bunker a final visual inspection, the Team Leader nods with satisfaction that there is nothing to indicate he and his guys had ever been here. As the SBS operators make their way to the second Transit van for their extraction, the Team Leader thinks of two things. First, how many more of these devices are secreted in similar bunkers around the UK, and second, when the Spetsnaz return, will he and his guys finally be given the authorisation to kill them?

Sounds like a work of fiction, doesn’t it? The scary thing is, it’s not. Spetsnaz operatives from the USSR did hide nuclear suitcase bombs in strategic locations in the UK, including the one in Thetford Forest that I’ve highlighted here. I’ve obviously applied some artistic license in creating characters and actions around the situation but, as I say, these bunkers and the nuclear suitcase bombs were cached in the UK by special forces of the USSR.

I first heard of these activities in a 1999 article from a publication called Inside the Pentagon. This article covered Spetsnaz caches being uncovered in Belgium, Switzerland, and other European countries. Not only that, but there was also mention of such caches on US soil, the east coast more specifically. The assessment at the time was that these caches in the USA may even have been abandoned and forgotten about after the collapse of the Soviet Union. And to this day, no concerted effort has been employed to locate them. A formal request was issued to the Secretary of State under the Clinton administration, Madeleine Albright, however there was still no action taken. Former Soviet Defence officers testified in 1997 that there were dozens of these ‘suitcase bomb’ devices unaccounted for after the collapse of the Soviet Union and it was almost certain that caches remained in the USA, having been smuggled in through the borders of Canada and Mexico.

The reason the subject of nuclear bombs cached in the UK returned to pique my interest was the release of a new book by former Special Boat Squadron operator Duncan Falconer. When I was younger I thoroughly enjoyed Duncan’s book ‘First into action’, an account of his life in the SBS and would recommend it to anyone interested in the subject matter. Duncan has just released a follow up to this book, the newest iteration detailing his life after the SBS as a security contractor, bodyguard, Hollywood screenwriter and movie producer etc. It’s called ‘First into action again’ and in one of the PR releases for it, Duncan mentions being part of a team involved in the surveillance of Spetsnaz soldiers operating in the UK and . . . locating the nuclear suitcase bombs that the Soviet soldiers had planted. Duncan is obviously limited in what he can disclose about the situation but is quite clear in his account that it did happen and it happened in Suffolk.

So, another example of something that sounds like it could have been ripped out of a Tom Clancy novel actually being a real situation. What is even more surprising is how few people have heard about portable nuclear bombs being hidden in the UK as part of a Russian plan of sabotage and pre-invasion aggression. And another thing to consider which I haven’t mentioned here: these Spetsnaz teams weren’t operating alone. They had support and assistance from people in the respective areas. Placing a pre-fabricated bunker into a forest in Suffolk required more than folding shovels and a bit of elbow grease. A lot more . . .

And there you have it; Spetsnaz in Suffolk – who knew?