Refuse the Cruise

Protesting Cruise Missile Testing in the Canadian North

20 minutes

In the winter of 1984 Jim Bohlen, one of the founders of Greenpeace and then Greenpeace Canada anti-nuclear campaigner; Kevin McKeown, Greenpeace Canada action coordinator; and two others chained themselves to the only entrance to the Cold Lake air force base 150 miles NE of Edmonton, Alberta to protest the testing of US cruise missiles. In 1985 Jim was back again with Kevin, who was coordinating a group of Greenpeace protesters on a road on the missile’s flightpath. Above their heads, suspended a hundred feet in the air by helium balloons, they flew a thirty metre wide net, with the slogan “Refuse the Cruise.” They’d named the net the “Cruise-catcher,” as it pretended it was going to catch the cruise missile as it flew past. Though the winter weather was bitter, a number of TV news crews had come to film the protest. Incredibly, after all the cameras had taken their shots of the protest, the cruise missile flew directly over the cruise catcher, but far higher than planned. Apparently, the military weren’t ready to risk a confrontation with Greenpeace’s high tech defence! None of the TV crews present got this on film as they were so astonished that they just stood and stared in disbelief.

In the mid 1980s, the United States military was permitted to conduct six cruise missile tests each year in northern Canada, whose terrain resembles Siberia. Each winter from 1984, cruise missiles were launched from a US B52 Bomber over Canada’s Beaufort sea and travelled down the Mackenzie River valley, closely following the terrain at just metres above the tree tops to avoid detection. After 1500 miles, they landed at the Primrose Lake test site in the Cold Lake airbase,

Cruise missiles added to the number of nuclear warheads, and encouraged the Russians to develop their own equivalent system. More missiles in turn increased the number of opportunities of a nuclear accident; and made it possible for there to be a ‘limited’ nuclear war. Canada is a non-nuclear weapons nation, and there was wide opposition across the country to cruise testing, but the bitter cold, isolation and short notice before tests meant it was almost impossible, apart from a small local peace group, for people to protest at the base.

Not long before the planned cruise testing cycle in the winter of 1986/87, Jim Bohlen, asked me if I could coordinate an occupation of the test site in time to stop the next missile test. The test would take place sometime in mid January and the temperatures might drop below -40c. We would only have 48 hours warning, so we had to be ready to go at a moments notice. Jim had already found two people to agree to invade the base: Luanne Roth, Greenpeace Vancouver director, and Arne Hansen a Greenpeace volunteer and ardent peacenik. Kevin would be there again to help us get into the base. We were unable to find a fourth person in the time available, so we were limited to a team of three. On the other hand, we needed to have two teams, to increase our chances of getting past the guards and occupying the landing zone, so that they would have to abort the test. It is not safe to travel alone in winter, as a minor accident, or simple carelessness could prove fatal in the bitter temperatures. Hypothermia and frostbite come quickly at extreme temperatures. It is far safer to have a buddy, checking your face for frostbite, looking out for signs of hypothermia, and able to look after you if you become incoherent, or incapacitated.

I had taken two winter survival courses, been on a multi-day dog sled trip in Quebec and camped out by the roadside when hitch-hiking in Quebec in the winter. But apart from hitch hiking, when I slept alone near a road, I had always winter camped with others. I was well aware that it was an absolute rule not to go out in extreme cold alone, and I would not have accepted this risk for any other reason than to do a Greenpeace action. But as we needed to have two teams, somebody would have to go in alone. I couldn’t let anyone else do this, so as the coordinator, and the most experienced in cold weather camping, it had to be me.

I found the best equipment available in Vancouver and bought three very expensive down sleeping bags, three very warm down jackets, mittens, hats, socks, felt lined boots, bivvy sacs, snowshoes and other necessary equipment. The snow shoes were a modern design, with aluminium frames and wide webbing. They were lighter and smaller than the wooden ones I had used previously elsewhere in Canada, and were easier to use as they weren’t so cumbersome. Luanne and I drove up to one of the ski hills outside Vancouver one Sunday and practised with the snowshoes. They were relatively easy to use, though still tricky on a steep slope. Thankfully the terrain in Alberta would be flat.

When we got the news that the airspace used by the missile was to be closed, Luanne and I flew to Edmonton the same day. A local video crew filmed us crossing a snowy field near the airport before dark. When we later went into the test site, this footage was released to the media. After filming, Kevin drove us through the winter snow to a motel in a small town just far enough away from the base to be incognito. Arne was working that day, so he flew in after dark. The next day, Kevin found a road that skirted the base, and after breakfast he took Luanne and Arne to the edge of the base and they set off through the forest towards the landing zone. I stayed back so that I could do a media piece on the phone with Jim Bohlen, not yet arrived from Vancouver, and so that the occupation teams would come from different directions at different times.

After the media call, Kevin dropped me at another spot on the periphery of the base. As I set off through the trees just after lunch, carrying a large and heavy pack, I found that the snow shoes were not doing their job and I sank a foot or eighteen inches into the powder snow with every step. It was exhausting lifting the snowshoe out of a deep hole, trying to balance against the pull of the giant backpack and then sinking deep into the snow again. I realised belatedly that the snowshoes were small because the snow in BC is wet and heavy, and so holds more weight per square foot. And as I had kept our destination a secret when buying the snowshoes I hadn’t realised that they were not appropriate for Alberta’s powder snow. My mistake might cost us dear. I struggled on through the afternoon, and into the fading light, occasionally stumbling and landing on my side or face-planting in the snow. When I fell, I had to wriggle out of the pack’s shoulder straps and belt, leveraging on the pack to regain my feet. After each fall, I had to get rid of the snow that had fallen down my collar, or forced its way up my sleeves. Then poise uncomfortably on the too-small snow shoes, wrestle the massive back pack onto a knee and then up onto my back. Sometimes this caused another plunge into the snow and the process began again. A fall could cost several minutes and was exhausting, worse, it made me sweat profusely. The feel of cold, clammy sweat against the skin was worrying. I struggled to make sure I didn’t fall, but deadwood under the snow occasionally tripped me or low branches caught the towering backpack. In the hours before dusk, I barely made three miles. I was worried about Luanne and Arne, who would also be suffering with the wrong equipment. I hoped they wouldn’t have to turn back. Not knowing if they would manage made it imperative I carried on, so I continued into the early dark. Once it was dark, it was even harder to avoid tripping or catching the pack on a tree, so after another hour or so, stumbling and falling even more often in the dark, I stopped and set up camp. It was difficult to set up a snow camp at night, in the bitter cold and nervously trying to make sure that my light didn’t give my position away. I had a bivvy sac, and struggled to get a couple of sleeping mats and a down bag inside without letting in any snow. Putting on down booties, and brushing off the snow on my clothes, I wriggled into the bivvy sac, and zipped myself up.

You don’t sleep much at below -20 c, but I was reasonably comfortable as snow is soft, and forms to the body. With a fair bit of toe wriggling, leg flexing and hand thumping I kept from freezing until dawn. I must have dozed off, as I woke at first light to the sound of a helicopter circling close by. The tree cover is not very thick in northern Alberta in the winter, with patches of leafless deciduous trees, and I was worried I’d be spotted. The helicopter stayed circling within a short distance of me for some time. I packed up my kit, a harder job than laying it out. Getting a vast sleeping bag back into its stuff sack with mittens on is tricky, so I took them off for a bit. At -20 or so, hands freeze quickly. Forcing everything into my pack also needed a bit of foot work- which required getting out of one of my snowshoes. After a few falls, and curses, I got everything strapped down and set off. I had another 10 miles to go to the landing spot if I was to disrupt the test. I had to get there by 2, and so I had about 5 hours. This didn’t seem likely, but as long as I could get to the general area of the landing zone, they ought to abort the cruise landing until they knew where we were. The key was to not get caught.

After an hour, I came to a large snow covered clearing. The helicopter had moved off but was still audible, so not very far away. I realised that if I crossed the clearing my tracks would be easily visible from the helicopter, if it did a sweep back. And once tracks are spotted they could drop a team who could easily follow the tracks and I would be caught. I skulked in the trees wondering on my best course. I decided that it would be best if one of the teams did get caught- as it would prove we were there! But it was important both teams weren’t caught, as then (if they knew there were only two) they could safely go ahead with the test. I had a small FM radio and was listening to CBC. Our site invasion was on the hourly news. The military were denying there were any protesters in the test site due to their tight security.

I made a detour of the clearing and was better at keeping on my feet than the day before, but still tripped at times, plunging with the ungainly pack deep into the snow. I considered leaving the pack in order to move faster. But, while I could easily see my oversized footprints snaking through the trees behind me, they might be covered if wind blew snow into my tracks. If I hurt myself, a sprained ankle would be enough, I wouldn’t survive the night without my sleeping bag. I had to keep the cumbersome backpack, like it or not. An hour before the planned landing I realised I was still too far from the landing zone, and the media on my pocket radio were reporting as fact that there were no protesters in the test site. I decided that it would be best if I headed out now to inform the media that I had in fact been occupying the testing area – and that a second group that had left earlier was still there. Heading back was much less tiring, as my tracks were now frozen and held my weight, and I got a boost in energy heading for the warmth. I got out to the road in a couple of hours. Kevin had been making hourly passes at the pickup point, and within ten minutes, he arrived with the van and took me back to the motel. I briefed Jim, who had arrived from Vancouver, and the media team patched me in to do numerous live media calls.

I talked to media outlets across the US, countering the military’s assertion that nobody had been in the test site. I gave them details about what it was like hiking through the snow and camping out at -20, how I’d evaded the military helicopters, that the other team was still in there and that I’d come out to counter the military’s lie and let people know we had been actively disrupting the cruise testing. I tried to always bringing the conversation back to the most important points: that we were there to protest the testing of offensive nuclear weapons in Canada, that cruise missiles were a dangerous provocation and that most Canadians objected to the tests. I heard Jim on the other phone telling the media we three were prepared to sacrifice our lives for our beliefs. I was prepared to risk my life, but absolutely wasn’t prepared to sacrifice it! I was kept busy for several hours, but when night fell, we began to get worried for Arne and Luanne- what if they were in trouble? If they weren’t back by …we set a time we’d have to inform the military and suffer the indignity of a military rescue! Kevin and I went back to the rendezvous point, and waited until the deadline. We had almost given up hope, when two very tired people came out of the woods. They’d travelled a lot further than I had and almost got to the landing zone. But they heard that the missile had landed and so had turned around and, exhausted, struggled to get back to the road that night.

Luanne and Arne joined in the media work, and with Jim and Beverly, our media person, we managed to talk to dozens of media outlets across Canada and the US. The military announced they had carried out a successful test and continued to insist that our claims of penetrating their security were bogus. Jim wanted to claim we’d disrupted the test, forcing them to crash, but was dissuaded from doing so.

Two days later, the military announced that the missile had been crash landed 14 km before the landing zone! But by then this was no longer a big story, just a footnote. By delaying their news the military had cleverly undermined the effectiveness of our action. Jim had had the right instincts. Don’t let the liars stop you claiming success! The fact the cruise had been crash landed into the forest meant that we’d effectively disrupted their test, and potentially damaged the flight recorder and slowed the deployment of the missiles. Most Greenpeace actions stop an activity for hours at best. The purpose is to highlight an issue and show activities that are usually too far away, hidden behind fences or otherwise unseen. This action had not only got extensive coverage across the US and Canada, represented the millions of Canadians opposed to cruise testing, but best of all, we had aborted a multi-million dollar murder-missile test.

I have some footage of TV coverage of this action, I will put it up when I sort a technical problem.