The following item was kindly provided by:  ERIC LEWIS.

I was on Christmas Island during the American Nuclear Test series (Operation Dominic) in 1962.  The poem is actually attributable to an unknown Yank.  My rank was SAC and resided at the RAF lines at Port.  I was on the Island between March 1962 and March 1963.   It will only be fully understood by someone there at the time, and if I can help to explain any of the content please shout. An enjoyable website by the way, which brings back memories of my year on the rock. 'Phil Hooper' was the Colonel in charge of JTF 8 'Mahatma' was the code name used by the announcer giving details of the bomb drop, count down to detonation etc.

HYMN OF CHRISTMAS

Across the blue Pacific Christmas Island is the spot,

Where we are doomed to spend our time, in the land that God forgot.

Here in the Sun and Coral Sands, we are servicemen it’s true,

Out in the middle of nowhere, ten thousand miles from you.

 

No one knows that we’re alive, no one gives a damn,

The old gang has forgotten us, we are owned by Uncle Sam.

  We are the men of Task Force Eight, we earn our measly pay

Testing the bombs for Starbird, for two and a half a day.

 

Our father’s name's Phil Hooper, but Mahatma is our guide,

He speaks from pole and water tank, from his voice you cannot hide.

  In the heat and dust we sit and wait, with goggles on our face

We wait for the next one to go off, and resume our rugged pace.

 

There are no women on this Isle, to greet us with good cheer,

But with twenty cents and a great big smile, you can buy yourself a beer.

  From day to day we work away, with one thought to keep us free,

That weekend leave will come our way, and we will be off to Waikiki.

 

But when at last those Pearly Gates, come into our clear view,

Our frown will turn to laughter, for the joke is all on you.

  For once outside those Pearly Gates, we will hear St Peter yell,

“Come in you sons of Christmas, you have served your time in Hell.”