In the days of my youth *comes over all misty eyed*, there was a movement in the UK called Cruisewatch. We made it our business to track USAF missile convoys out of Greenham Common and stop them, paint them and generally throw a spanner in the works. The rationale (as if it needed one) was that the system claimed that by dispersing on its articulated lorry missile launcher, it 'melted into the countryside', making itself less of a target. And making the population of the south of England a bigger target whilst simultaneously threatening some nice engineer's family in Tomsk. We felt we could demonstrate that if a bunch of peaceniks with CB radios could find it, the KGB probably weren't far behind. After all, according to rightwing rag the Daily Mail they were paying our wages

Any road up, some Cruisewatchers moved on to finding the bunkers dotted all across the British countryside, part of a farcical idea that there would be a need for the continuation of the government structure after a nuclear holocaust - especially seeing as they'd be the fools who got us killed in the first place. First thing I would be thinking as my mutated corpse dragged itself from the wreckage would surely be "hope there's a bureaucrat to tell me what to do". Once found, one could break in to said bunker in the wee small hours and rehabilitate the contents.

Did we stop the bomb? No, despite SALT II there's more warheads in the world now than ever, but no-one cares anymore. But this is when I learned one of life's vital lessons - resistance is fun.