Anzac Day 2025: Northland Navy veteran Russell G. Hockley’s memory of hydrogen bomb tests

Russell G. Hockley, centre, receives his King Charles III Nuclear Medal supported by family members, from left, Karen Subritzky, Jacqueline Hiku, his son Russell Hockley Jr and daughter Cynthia Shailes.

Nestled in a village in the far reaches of Northland, called home by no more than 300 people, is a man who has witnessed the detonation of not one but four thermonuclear bombs. Navy veteran Russell G Hockley shared his story with reporter Karina Cooper as the country rallies for Anzac Day to remember those who served.

Seventeen-year-old Russell G. Hockley stood on the upper deck of his naval ship, eyes closed, his back to the hydrogen bomb’s blast.

“Then we’d get a flash of light and we could see the bone in our hand,” the 86-year-old said.

“I witnessed four bombs and one of those drops was of stronger strength than was dropped at Hiroshima.”

When an atomic bomb, named Little Boy, was dropped on the Japanese city in 1945 about 100,000 people died.

The rubble in Hiroshima in 1945, a month after the first atomic bomb was ever used in warfare. Photo / NZME

Hockley had been a signalman on the HMNZS Rotoiti, charged with monitoring the weather during the United Kingdom’s 1957 hydrogen bomb tests at Christmas Island in the Pacific Ocean.

After the Second World War, the United Kingdom had considered developing atomic and thermonuclear weapons a critical national policy.

Hockley would don his “anti-flash” gear consisting of cotton headgear, gloves, and goggles when a bomb was to be dropped.

“We’d hear the pilot talking through, saying 20 seconds to bomb drop, 10 seconds, nine, eight, seven ... bomb gone.”

Then came the blast.

“They would say stand up and face the bomb burst and we would see the mushroom forming,” Hockley said.

The cloud from the fourth bomb was “huge”.

“You could actually see flames drawing from the bottom of the mushroom and pulling all of this stuff out of the sea,” Hockley said.

“It was just developing layer after layer after layer.”

Overall, nine bombs were dropped as part of Operation Grapple but Hockley’s ship returned after the fourth.

He had been pleased when a King Charles III Nuclear Medal was made available for the people who served in Operation Grapple.

He was awarded his medal last year by his son Russell Hockley Jnr at a ceremony at the Kaitāia RSA, where he is a life member and former patron.

“There wouldn’t be many people who had pinned a medal on their father, I would think,” Hockley said.

Russell Hockley Jnr, who also served in the Navy, thanked his dad for his service to the country – a calling that came about after a headmaster told a young Hockley two terms in that the school wasn’t big enough for the two of them.

“One of us has to move on,” Hockley recalled.

The headmaster told the teen that a naval recruiter was in town.

“I went down there and got all the paraphernalia and I trapped my mum and dad into signing, and I joined the Navy as a 15-and-a-half-year-old boy.

“I finished up doing 22-and-a-half years,” Hockley said.

Russell G. Hockley holds a photo of himself taken during his time as a signalman.

In the early days, his naval career was spurred by a want to provide for his young wife Hoana and their children.

He said while the wage wasn’t so great, the cheap housing was.

Hockley found leaving his family to serve abroad to be a painful downside to a naval career.

But Hoana, who died in 2012, had been “amazing”.

“She was a great mother and a great partner. She was of that ilk that understood my life was the Navy,” Hockley said.

Fortunately, all four of his children had been born while he was home. Impressive given he had served in 10 different shore establishments and 10 naval ships.

“Plus a 48-hour posting on submarine as the guy had an impacted tooth and couldn’t sail,” Hockley said.

“That was an experience on its own ... I found it very difficult.”

Hockley had joined the Navy shortly after the Korean War ended in 1953, and in 1955 found himself part of the conflict unfolding in Indonesia. He was also part of a bombardment on Borneo.

He retired on a naval pension aged 38 and headed to the Far North with his family.

“I had a good career. I enjoyed the Navy,” Hockley said.

His time serving had led him to rub shoulders with royalty in Christchurch during his time with the 1974 Commonwealth Games ceremonial committee.

“I met the Duke then met him a second time. I met the Queen twice, Princess Anne once, and the King once.”

Hockley’s contribution in the games and naval sport in general, given he coached nearly everything, saw him awarded the British Empire Medal in 1975.

Despite the highs, his lifetime insight into war has stayed with him and he makes sure to never miss an Anzac Day.

For 15 years, Hockley travelled 60km to Kaitāia for its dawn parade. Then home again to Te Kao for an 11am service before driving 20km down the road to Houhora for its 2pm Civic Service.

But with his Navy mates dwindling in numbers, he decided to attend only the dawn parade.

“There used to be 10 or 12 of us. Every Anzac we would meet and enjoy ourselves. Swing the lantern as the Navy would say, telling stories,” he said.

But parading alongside Hockley today in an Anzac Day “highlight” were his son and two sons-in-law who all served.

Hockley believed Anzac Day had remained resilient thanks to the many people who keep the memory of those who served alive.

“We don’t forget and we’ll never forget.”