A Paranormal Night at Greenham Common Control Tower
- Dr Iain M Lightfoot
- Oct 13
- 4 min read
There’s a strange calm at Greenham Common these days. You wouldn’t guess that this quiet stretch of heathland once sat at the heart of Cold War tensions, or that its control tower, still standing proud against the Berkshire sky, once oversaw the comings and goings of American bombers armed with nuclear capability and housed cruise missiles. History always leaves traces, and for those of us attuned to them, the echoes of the past are still very much alive.
History
RAF Greenham Common, located near Newbury in Berkshire, was opened in 1942 and played a significant role in both the Second World War and the Cold War. Originally requisitioned by the Air Ministry, it served as a key base for the USAAF, hosting fighter and troop carrier groups involved in D-Day operations, including Eisenhower’s historic address to paratroopers before the Normandy invasion. During the Cold War, the base became a Strategic Air Command site for nuclear-armed B-47 Stratojets and later housed cruise missiles under the USAF’s 501st Tactical Missile Wing. It gained international attention in the 1980s as the site of the Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp, a protest against the deployment of nuclear weapons. After the Cold War ended, the base closed in 1992, and by 1997, it was returned to public use as parkland and a Site of Special Scientific Interest.
Today, the restored Control Tower is used as a visitor centre and café, preserving the memory of a place that once symbolised both military power and peaceful resistance, now transformed into a space for reflection and history.
The Investigation Begins
Barry and I began our investigation in the room said to hold the most activity, an upstairs space overlooking what was once the vast runway. As always we decided to go old school: no flashy apps, no unnecessary noise. Just IR cameras, ultra-sensitive listening devices, and a stillness that allowed the building itself to speak. In the room there was an absolute silence, broken only by the faint hum of distant traffic.
Right from the start, an amazing string-orb drifted lazily across our IR feed, fairly sizable, almost playful and came straight toward us. We both watched in stunned silence as it travelled through the air, unwavering, before disappearing at ceiling height. The same thing happened at the end of our session, just as I asked aloud if any spirit wished to show themselves before we left. Again, a single orb, following a similar line but in reverse.
It’s only intuition, but I can’t shake the sense that it’s an American serviceman, someone who perhaps still guards the tower, or simply wants to be left alone in the room that once commanded his view of the skies or the site that he saw before he passed? There’s pride there, but also a quiet sadness. He’s not angry, just present and wanting to be left alone.
More Exploration
We explored the other floors next. At one point, I rounded a corner and jumped out of my skin, a mannequin stood silently in the gloom, a reminder that not all scares come from the spirit world! Still, the energy shifted subtly as we ascended to the highest level. It felt softer, almost domestic, as if a different story lingered there, quiet, pleasant and wonderful.
Downstairs, I turned to my dowsing rods, an old but reliable technique when handled carefully. The rods began to respond almost immediately, turning and crossing in slow, deliberate movements. We both asked simple questions, and it seemed that a female presence might be with us. My impression was of someone recent, perhaps a visitor or volunteer connected to the tower’s more modern history. It felt like she was waiting for someone, patient but restless, her energy warm and curious rather than trapped.
Outside Greenham Common Control Tower; Something Lurks
Our most compelling evidence, however, came outside. We heard the sound of gravel moving again, as if footsteps circled us, careful and deliberate. The atmosphere was charged, almost electric, as though something was watching, assessing, perhaps deciding whether to engage or retreat.
Then, silence. Utter stillness.
The night air was still, it was cold and the gravel crunched beneath our boots as we walked toward the outer path nearer to the old runway. Then, a low growl broke the silence, guttural, close, unmistakably directed at us. I spun around, camera in hand, but there was no one there and I asked Barry if it was him, it wasn't but he heard it. A few seconds later I believe that I felt it, a touch on my shoulder, firm enough to make me take a step forward and look around. Barry managed to capture a photograph of what appears to be a crouched figure in the shadows near where I was stood, too defined to be a trick of light, but not solid enough to be human.
By the end of the evening, we’d gathered orbs, DVPs, audio traces, physical sensations, and one haunting image. Not overwhelming activity, but enough to suggest that Greenham Control Tower still hums with unseen life. Perhaps the echoes of the servicemen who once manned its radios, or the voices of protestors who camped at its gates, or even something older, drawn to the charged energy of a site that once balanced war and peace on a knife edge.
For now, it remains a mystery. Barry and I both know we’ll be back. Some locations simply ask for a return, and Greenham Common, with its layered history of conflict, courage, and quiet defiance, is one of them.
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