Personal tribute to Moulton nuclear test veteran Douglas Hern, who died aged 86

At first thought, it’s crushingly sad that Doug Hern died without receiving the medal he fought so hard for. The world surely owed him that moment of joy after the struggles he and his family faced.

Yet, in the days since he died, I’ve come to think that this is the wrong way to view it. Sometimes it takes time to place things in context – and I’ve changed my mind.

Doug knew the medal was coming, yet he repeatedly insisted to me that his mission was about his fellow servicemen, not him. Perhaps the way to think of it is that he leaves us having proudly won his fight – and safe in the knowledge that his friends and colleagues will get some long overdue recognition for their efforts.

He wouldn’t have been satisfied at that alone, I’m sure, but it’s a victory of which he should take immense credit having more than played his part in last four decades.

Doug’s tale was a remarkable one. Again, an outsider might feel it was a life defined by those fateful moments in which he witnessed five devastating thermonuclear explosions at close quarters.

Yet, again, time teaches us that this isn’t sufficient. Yes, those Cold War tests changed the course of his life – and last year he reflected to me at length about what his life would’ve been like were it not for that Christmas Island service (indeed, he described his as a life of ‘queries, doubts and rebuffs’). But his was not simply a story of a victim. His, as his son so perfectly put it, was a life defined by the fight he took on. He was indeed, a fighter to the very end – firing off emails from his hospital bed.

I’m not the only journalist to have spoken to Doug down the years – but I certainly felt we had a fond rapport and that was something I was happy to rekindle when I returned to the paper in 2021. I was honoured to earn his respect, frankly. I’m just sad that by the time I returned his last call to me, he wasn’t able to answer.

Our role can be a privilege but it’s also a duty – to chronicle the lives and stories of our readers and to do those justice. The most dramatic of those can’t help but stay with you long after you’ve gone to print.

When I went to Las Vegas and visited the National Atomic Testing Museum, my thoughts turned to Doug. When the recent Oppenheimer film led to much media coverage, my thoughts turned to Doug. I’m sure there will be many other moments – although hopefully not ones about any renewed nuclear hostilities in this fragile world we’re in.

But, again, that all-important context looms. Yes, the lessons to learn from Doug are, at face value, about the plight of our nuclear test veterans and the terrifying threat posed by such weapons. They’re also, frankly, a lesson in how cruel, cold and cowardly governments of all stripes can be in stalling, deflecting and shirking the need to pay respects to the people whose lives were shaped by their decisions. But, ultimately, Doug’s life could teach us all much about dedication, pride and the strength needed to fight for a just cause – and, above all, the virtues of comradeship, the importance of learning from the past and the indomitable spirit that some people are capable of.

So, farewell to you Doug. I’ve learned a lot from our many, many conversations over the years. Some of it unprintable but all of it thought provoking. Amid the often-grim state of affairs, we often found a way to chuckle. If it’s even possible, let’s hope you’re back with Sandie and looking down on us all, smiling.