From: Greenpeace Vessel SV Rainbow Warrior
Date: Sunday 9-JUL-95
Subject: Diary Update

French Commandos have boarded the Greenpeace vessels inside the test site exclusion zone. All communications have been cut. We have a short piece of video sent out just before we lost contact:

Quicktime movie of French Commandos boarding the Rainbow Warrior (931K) ©Greenpeace

and two stills taken from the same piece of video:

65KB GIF or 17KB JPG. ©Greenpeace

72KB GIF or 17KB JPG. ©Greenpeace

Quicktime movie of French Commandos throwing tear gas cannisters into the Rainbow Warrior (713K) ©Greenpeace

Click here for chronology of events surrounding boarding of Rainbow Warrioir

Account of events surrounding the boarding from Richard Leney aboard the Rainbow Warrior.

July 8

Sundown on Saturday afternoon on any other South Pacific cruise and you might expect to be sipping gin and tonics on the poop deck. Not this one. A couple of hours before, the Rainbow Warrior has made a rendezvous with the yacht Vega, about 30 miles north of Moruroa. Vega is something of a veteran of the campaign against nuclear weapons testing here at Moruroa, having first sailed here in 1972, and spent 45 days in the exclusion zone when atmospheric tests were conudcted here by letting off nuclear bombs suspended over the lagoon on large balloons. This is her fifth time to protest at Moruroa, having returned in 1973, 1981, 1982 and 1985.

As the sun goes down the ship's crew continue to transfer food, water, and fuel to Vega; the resupply takes until after dark. Two crew also change between the Warrior and the Vega. As darkness evelopes the boats, amongst the to-ing and fro-ing of inflatables, the Warrior's inflatable number 3 slips into darkness, complete with its crew of three and supplies and equipment to last a sustained period at sea. Three brave people -- David McTaggart, Henk Haazen and Chris Robinson -- set off to play an extended waiting game with the French naval forces guarding Moruroa atoll. We wish them the very best of luck on their bold adventure. Goodbyes to the Vega too as she slips away after such a short visit: 45 days at sea from Panama and the Warrior was her first stop!

94KB GIF or 30KB JPG. ©Greenpeace/Morgan

With the crew and boats back on board, final preparations for the next day's action begin. All doors, ports and hatches are secured, only the absolutely necessary ones remaining open in case we are boarded or rammed during the action. A final crew meeting is held, and all hands except the watch head for bed.

July 9

0100 hours and all hands are roused from their bunks after what feels like a brief sleep -- and it was! Most were lucky to get three hours. A meeting in the mess and a prayer of blessing by Mgr. Gaillot, the Catholic bishop from France, and Pastor Temarama, a local priest from Moorea takes place. Then the action begins.

Circling Moruroa at 15 miles, south-east of the pass, two inflatables (boats 4 and 5) are speedily launched over the side of the ship and into the darkness. This was done by the light of the moon, with no lights on deck: the setting moon, well muffled by clouds provided enough light for us, but not enough for the five French warships in the immediate vicinity to see what was going on. By 2.15am the Warrior was steaming north at 10 knots, leaving the two boats to play cat and mouse for a couple of hours with a couple of French warships and their inflatables. Four a.m. and the second paif of boats (boats 1 and 3) go over the side of the Warrior. This time it is pitch black: the moon has set and the weather has turned squally. But the crew are well practiced, and the operation is again over in a matter of minutes. The Warrior continues to steam north.

Out on the sea, there is a bit of a breeze, and the sea is a pleasant metre or so high. The boats stay close together but it is hard for two reasons: first, more than twenty metres apart and we lose sight of one another; and second, a French ship is bearing down on us! Driving this way and that in a pair, we manage to elude two French ships and a helicopter with a searchlight. After forty minutes of this, and a couple of close calls, the GPS satellite navigation device one of the boats is equipped with is checked and we find we are 18 miles from Moruroa! The arrangement is that the Warrior will cross the 12 mile line at five am and at that time so will the inflatables, so there is no time to lose. The glow of the Moruroa nuclear base is visible on the horizon, so both boats turn toward the light, wish each other good luck, and head full throttle into the darkness. It is impossible at speed, in this sea, to stay close together -- without risking a collision -- so the boats make their own course.

91KB GIF or 31KB JPG. ©Greenpeace/Morgan

As we turn toward Moruroa and open the throttle wide, the crew of boat 1 find that suddenly life gets a lot rougher! We are now heading east -- into the sea and wind. Eighteen miles to go to the pass, then another fourteen or so down the lagoon to the drilling rig. One advantage of the rough ride is that the French soon lose the stomach for the chase, and the lights slowly disappear astern. With the first light of dawn just peaking through clouds to the north east, the tall masts of the Warrior are seen a couple of miles to the north, also heading flat stick for the pass through the reef into the lagoon. By the time we reach the reef, it is quite light: the ride has been rough but fairly uneventful: a French ship was passed about a mile to the south, and a helicopter passed about half a mile away, but it was all too dark to see the inflatable. We have only slowed down once, to change fuel lines to a fresh tank.

72KB GIF or 21KB JPG. ©Greenpeace/Morgan

At we reach the reef we see a French warship coming up from the south at speed, heading for the atoll. At first the inflatable turns north, running laong the reef, but within a minute or two we lose our bearings and realise that the warship is heading for the pass -- to the south! Turning around and staying very close to the breakers on the reef to avoid detection by radar, the inflatable runs south for a mile then swings in around the nose of the reef, into the pass. The warship is coming into the pass only a quarter mile to the south. Boat one just goes for it, and in a couple of hundred metres we are in the lagoon!

Reinvigorated by this successful breach of Moruroa's defences, and also the calmer waters of the lagoon, the boat speeds off with the throttle hard against the stops. The towers of the test centre are visible in the distance, some fourteen miles down the lagoon. The target is the drilling rig, and we don't know exactly where it will be, but that end seems like a good place to start. Halfway down the lagoon a helicopter appears and for ten minutes or so, buzzes the inflatable, repeatedly coming down to about 10 metres in an attempt to turn the boat back. But the boat is far more maneouvrable than the helicopter, and the crew take time to give the pilot a few cheeky waves in between assaults. Eventualy the pilot decides he is wasting his time and disappears to try another inflatable coming behind us some way.

By now the port at Moruroa is close, and it is time to prepare for boarding the drilling rig. This is used to drill the boreholes in the lagoon floor down which the nuclear bombs are put to be exploded. The more we can do to disrupt preparations for testing, the better. With the rig coming up fast, the lock box is unlashed from the boat. Kate, who is not driving, then fixes the locking devices to my wrists, and I sling the lockbox over my shoulder on its line -- all while the boat is going full speed. The rig is close now. We scan it for a ladder or other way to climb abaord, as the deck is ten feet from the water. Then we see that it is constructed on two huge pontoons, with a recess between them rather like a huge catamaran. Across that recess, only five feet above the water, is a walkway. We drive straight at the walkway, and as Kate grab the steelwork, I kill the motor and climb aboard the rig. Quick as a flash I spring up the steps to the main deck. A ladder is right in front. I go up the ladder and swing across onto a platform. Slipping through the handrail, with French Foreign Legionnaires already running up the deck, I swing the lockbox off my back, loop my right arm through the raling, and lock my hands into the lockbox. Time, just after 6am. We have a lock-on!

85KB GIF or 27KB JPG. ©Greenpeace/Morgan

Meanwhile, on the Warrior the ship is on line - almost literally! A little after 5am, she crossed the 12 mile limit surrounding Moruroa; the chief engineer took off the automatic overspeed controls on her two engines, put his foot to the floor, and the old girl surged to 11 knots. Half a mile out from the pass, the French commandos belatedly make their move. Boarding the boat from inflatables, they surround the bridge deck. Within a minute or two they realise that all the doors have been bolted from the inside to prevent them entering and taking control of the ship. Things now begin to move very fast. A moment's gesticulation by an officer in front of the bridge windows, and then a hammer exploded glass into the face of the captain and first mate. Next instant, a tear gas cannister came flying in. Immediately, the bridge was evacuated and everyone went below, with the skipper turning the engine off as everyone files down the stairs into the lower accomodation. But it is no use. The ship rapidly fills with tear gas. In the confined area of a ship's alleyways within a minute it was unbearable. Everyone assembled in the mess within seconds, as arranged for an emergency, and as they did to the ship was rammed by the French tug Rari on the starboard bow-- three times. The decision was immediately taken to evacuate the interior of the ship and the captain went below to tell the chief engineer, while the rest of those aboard, including two priest, five journalists and the mayor of the largest city in French Polynesia, left through the main doorway and spilled out onto the main deck, eyes burning, gasping for air.

72KB GIF or 22KB JPG. ©Greenpeace/Morgan

Only three people remained inside as French commandos - resplendent in black catsuits, balaclavas and gas masks, poured in. These three were the radio operator and the two campaigners who had organised and run this protest right from the beginning. As the campaigners conducted live phone interviews to the outside world, describing what is happening, and the radio operator drives his computer to pump out the last moments of video before the cameraman has to drop his video camera and run, the commandos set about the steel door of the radio room with a fire axe. Within a couple of minutes they have managed to chop through the doubled skinned sea-door and make a slit open into the radio room. Through this slit they squirt tear gas from an aerosol cannister, while continuing to hack at the door with the axe. As the radio room is only 12 feet by eight (4 metres by 2.5) it very quickly become uninhabitable. The radio operator and one of the campaigners bolt through the porthole and clamber up the side of the ship to the deck above, their eyes red and streaming from the gas. The third campaigner is too big to get through the porthole, and spend ten to fifteen minutes with his head out of hte porthole gulping fresh air -- and continue to tell French radio what is going on-- until the commandoes finally manage to break their way in and drag him out.

81KB GIF or 32KB JPG. ©Greenpeace/Morgan

By now, the Warrior is tied up to a tug right in the middle of the pass, engines stopped. Everyone has been "arrested" on board by the French, or are at least under guard. But the Rainbow has made it into the pass -- at the cost of huge disruption to the French base at Moruroa and their testing programme. Of the inflatables, all four have made it not only into the lagoon, but right down the length of it into the heart of the base. Four people have boarded the drilling rig, and one successfully locked themselves to that rig. The other two boats made it into the immediate vicinity of the rig, but allowed themselves to be taken as by then they were faced with a mele of legionnaires, boats and helicopters around the rig. From there, we are taken to Moruroa and held for questioning for more than 14 hours. But that is another story. In the meantime, I think we might just have spoiled their Sunday morning!

78KB GIF or 25KB JPG. ©Greenpeace/Morgan

Richard Leney