Albion Dreaming (10 page)

The source of the LSD used in the 1953–54 trials at Porton Down is unknown. In 1953, the only known manufacturer of the drug was Sandoz in Basel, Switzerland. Porton Down now claims to have no record of the source of the LSD used in these early tests, stating, “The Defence Science and Technology Laboratory has reviewed its archive holdings and has been unable to locate any information relating to the manufacture or supply of LSD during the time period to which you refer.”
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Initial tests on human subjects at Porton Down began sometime in early 1953, and were carried out “... in the context of the cold war”. Thirty-seven volunteers, all ordinary ranks from various branches of the armed services took part in LSD trials at Porton in 1953, each being given varying doses of the drug of between 50–100 μg. Volunteers underwent medical examinations prior to the tests but their psychological fitness was not assessed. This might seem odd, considering the nature of the drug they were to be given, but it merely reflects the paucity of knowledge even Porton Down scientists had about the effects of LSD.
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Naval rating Derek Channon was 23 in 1953 when he volunteered for the tests at Porton. All he knew was that he was to be a human “guinea pig”. On the morning of the trial Channon was given an LSD-soaked sugar cube to swallow, though the Porton Down scientists omitted to tell him what drug he was taking. He then “...
sat in a darkened room where they showed a kaleidoscope on the wall. I could see tigers and God knows what in this thing. They were coming at you like a 3-D cinema. It was quite vivid. It was frightening. I will never forget it.”
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In 1954, a second series of LSD trials was carried out on service personnel and Porton Down staff to establish whether the drug could be useful as a “truth drug”. Five servicemen volunteered for tests at Porton. None were told at any time what drug would be tested on them.

For nineteen-year-old Royal Navy radio operator Eric Gow, the offer on the poster on the wall of the canteen at Devonport’s Royal Navy Signal School seemed too good to be true. The poster was recruiting volunteers to take part in a research programme to find a cure for the common cold. “It stated we would receive leave and additional pay of ten shillings” remembered Gow. He immediately volunteered, and in January 1954 found himself at Porton Down.

When he and his colleagues arrived they were asked to sign the Official Secrets Act, but nothing was said about the nature of the research programme for which they had volunteered. Gow and his friend were separated from the other sixteen volunteers and taken to an office in the main building. There, they were introduced to a man they took to be a doctor. He said he would like them to carry out some tests, after which he would give them something to drink and they could repeat the tests. The only hint of what was to come was the doctor’s comment that they might find the second round of tests “difficult”. Gow, young and cocky, thought: That’s what you think.

He found the first set of tests simple and quickly completed them. All he had to do was write his name and address on a sheet of paper, add three sets of numbers and walk in a pattern around some chairs in another room. This was almost too easy, he thought. Then the doctor “... pushed two sherry glasses towards us across the desk and I remember he used the expression ‘bottoms up’. We both drank the clear liquid (it had a peculiar taste).”

The effects of the drug came on fast, dramatically affecting Gow’s perception of the world. He remembers a kaleidoscope of imagery: “I suddenly saw the large old-fashioned radiator behind
the man start to shrink and expand like a concertina. The brown lino of the office had heel marks that were spinning like Catherine wheels.” Gow tried to do the simple tests again. This time his name and address filled a whole sheet of foolscap writing paper. Adding three sets of numbers together posed another problem. He could add the first two easily enough but no matter how hard he tried, he could not factor in the third number.

Gow isn’t sure if he managed to do the third test with the chairs because his next memory is of him and his friend on a bicycle, “giggling like mad and riding up and down the corridors of the building”. There seemed to be little control over the experiment and nor were there any further questions from the doctor, who appeared to have just vanished. Later that day Gow and his friend were sitting in the canteen, still hallucinating, his friend “... laughing his head off at a packet of soap powder dancing along the shelf”. Left to their own devices the hallucinating duo went into a telephone box to phone a taxi, Gow noticing that each of the little windows had technicoloured pictures in them: “There were cowboys chasing Indians in one, just like a film. Others were kaleidoscopic in nature.”

Gow’s next recollection is that they were at a dance, in nearby Salisbury, in their Wellingtons: “I don’t think we got a date that night.” Later in the trip, after walking along country roads lobbing snowballs at signs, they wandered into the RAF camp at Old Sarum where they were put up for the night in the cells, given breakfast in the morning and driven back to Porton Down. Other than the first few minutes of the experience Gow believes they were unsupervised, allowed to wander where they wanted, even leaving Porton Down unchallenged.

In retrospect, their escape from the LSD experiment probably saved them from having a much worse experience. As Gow puts it, “I do not think I had any fear, it was more like being completely free and wild,” a feeling many LSD users in the counter culture would soon come to know.
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The exact reason for Gow’s time at Porton was omitted from his official Navy records. Indeed, although he served in the Navy until 1960, no one ever mentioned what had happened to him.
It was as though his disorientating experience had never taken place. For the next five decades, though, it would rarely be far from his thoughts.

The refusal by MI6 to release their files on the 1953–54 LSD tests has made it difficult to obtain a full picture of how the tests were structured and what conclusions were reached. Nor has there been any official statement to explain why these early tests were discontinued. However, a significant clue exists in the unpublished autobiography of Porton Down scientist Harry Collumbine, who wrote of the Fifties experiments: “We stopped the trials ... when it was reported that in a few people it might produce suicidal tendencies.”
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The existence of the Porton Down LSD tests in the Fifties was hidden from the British public until 2002. The government’s obsession with secrecy for its own sake led at first to a complete denial the tests had ever taken place, a denial that was only withdrawn when legal pressure was brought to bear. Despite the denials, there was already evidence in the public domain that the tests took place. When ex-MI5 operative Peter Wright’s memoir
Spycatcher
was published in 1985, it was immediately banned in Britain. In the book, Wright had revealed: “The whole area of chemical research was an active field in the 1950s. I was co-operating with MI6 in a joint programme to investigate how far the hallucinatory drug LSD could be used in interrogations, and extensive trials took place at Porton. I even volunteered as a guinea pig on one occasion.”
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When the MOD was confronted with Wright’s allegation in 1997 they claimed staff at Porton Down could not find any record of the 1953–54 tests. This was most probably because the SIS had removed all files pertaining to the early LSD trials carried out at their behest. However, they cleverly anticipated any future problems by referring to another document which they said “... indicates that some work on LSD may have occurred prior to 1961.”
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Wright and his colleagues in the intelligence services appear to have concluded that LSD was of little use as an aid to interrogation or as a “truth drug”, and MI6 sponsored tests were abandoned in
1954. The MOD’s interest, though, continued and the subject of LSD was once again on the agenda in 1955. The discussion paper referred to a report made by the Canadian Directorate of Scientific Intelligence, which suggested that “... LSD 25 had a marked effect which might be a factor of some importance in war and it was suggested that this substance might be used in the role of a more or less conventional CW (Chemical Warfare) agent.” In view of this, a meeting held on 7 July agreed to pursue the matter and the JIB held further meetings in July and November 1955.
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Professor Joel Elkes attended the 23 November meeting, once again indicating the depth of his involvement with, and influence on, the British intelligence community. Elkes described the reactions to a dose of 50–100 μg of LSD in subjects, “quite unaware they had been given anything”. Oddly, there is no mention in the archives of Elkes’ Department of Experimental Psychiatry to suggest that LSD was tested on unwitting subjects, yet Elkes’ statement indicates such tests took place. One possibility is that he could have been referring to the 1953–54 SIS tests or making an oblique reference to tests run at the Department of Experimental Psychiatry.

Porton scientist Harry Collumbine also attended the meeting, apparently in support of the idea that LSD could be used as a drug for interrogation purposes. The minutes record: “Dr. Collumbine was of the opinion that subjects to whom the drug had been administered without their knowledge were affected to the extent that their reactions were beyond their control when subjected to interrogation by a skilled interrogator experienced in the application of this drug.” Collumbine’s faith in LSD as a possible interrogation agent does not appear to have been followed up, presumably because of his concerns about the potential for mental disturbance in test subjects.
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The meeting went on to discuss various theories of LSD application in warfare. These included dispensing the drug in an aerosol for use against targets such as battleships or aircraft, or against key civil defence personnel such as firefighters. It was even speculated that the effects of LSD on a small number of combatants might cause mass hysteria, the afflicted mimicking LSD symptoms though they hadn’t been directly exposed to the drug. The report
cited a case from World War I when large numbers of troops fled the front line in the belief they had been gassed when they were in fact entirely unaffected. The counter culture would come to know this phenomenon as a “contact high”, in which people who had not taken LSD found themselves in an altered state of consciousness after spending time with those who had.

The report recommended that further investigation of LSD and its analogues could prove fruitful and made several recommendations. The most significant was: “Its potential as a large scale Chemical Warfare agent required expert examination.” The report ended: “In view of the above conclusions, the panel strongly recommend that. ‘The necessary action should be taken to bring its views to the notice of the appropriate authorities.’” The implication was LSD tests with military personnel in simulated battlefield conditions were required, and there were several internal discussions at Porton in the late Fifties about the ethics of such trials.

Porton scientist Roger Brimblecombe made the situation perfectly clear at a meeting of the Porton advisory committee when he said the only way to determine if a drug might be of use in battle was “... by tests on humans, but there were many objections to that”. Professor Rydon speculated whether permission would even be granted for human experimentation of this type and thought it pointless even applying unless it could be shown “... whether the effect of psychomimetic drugs was always temporary and entirely reversible, even in persons liable to develop psychoses without the administration of drugs”. Professor Gaddum thought that the effect of a few doses was not a barrier to human tests but “... if repeated doses were given, an irreversible effect might be produced”.
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In his book
Gassed
, Rob Evans quotes an anonymous former Porton Down scientist as saying that since “... quite a lot was known about LSD, it was thought to be potentially safe to expose people to it”.
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A compromise was reached and it was agreed that future tests on humans would be buffered by a series of tests to screen out those who might react badly to LSD so that “... only normal people would be used”. This seemed to satisfy the higher echelons of the MOD and tests on humans resumed in late 1961. At first, it was only Porton scientists who were administered the drug, intravenously
and under the supervision of medical staff. The doses were low, 50 μg, enough to precipitate psychological effects but not enough for a full-blown hallucinatory journey. One of the scientists involved was Maxwell Hollyhock, who would later write up his experiences for the popular science journal
New Scientist
.
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Further tests on volunteers took place in 1962, with the dosage remaining at 50 μg of LSD. Then, in November 1962, following the results of a working party chaired by Nobel Prize winner Sir Alexander Todd, the Chiefs of Staff decided that chemical weapons should form a part of Britain’s armoury. This reasoning was based on the revived belief that Russia held large stocks of poisonous gas and other chemical and biological agents. In addition, the nature of warfare was changing and the Chiefs argued that creating battlefield incapacitants fulfilled a variety of hitherto unrealised needs. For instance, chemical weapons could be employed as a delaying tactic, preventing the enemy from immediate nuclear retaliation. Alternatively, chemical warfare agents could be used to incapacitate civilians in occupied territory without causing harm. The Cabinet’s Defence Committee sanctioned more research into nerve gas and other incapacitating agents and a new era of MOD experiments with LSD began at Porton Down.