The Caloosahatchee: A rusting hulk

The BBC's David Shukman first reported on the ships of the "ghost fleet" at their moorings on the James River in Virginia, US.

A crane lifts David Shukman on to the vessel

He then filmed their progress across the Atlantic. Now he is one of the first journalists to be allowed on board.

Step on to the battered deck of the Caloosahatchee - the first of the old US Navy "ghost ships" to arrive in Britain - and your boots scrunch through what sounds like autumn leaves.

Look down and you see it is flakes of corroded metal and peelings of battleship-grey paint.

Built in 1945, this huge vessel is showing its age. It served as a supply-station for the Atlantic Fleet and emblems still proclaim the fact.

A 'GHOST SHIP' TOUR

David Shukman inspects one of the vessels at the centre of this trans-Atlantic row

In pictures

Winching gear and anchor cables, red with rust, lie abandoned like museum pieces.

A painted sign explains the procedure for ferrying food and ammunition by cable across to the warships.

Last in service in 1990, the ship already feels like a time-capsule.

On the bridge, the last crew scrawled a fond sign-off on the message board: "Good-bye Ol' Girl."

Signs indicate where the hazards are

The captain's chair is ripped and dusty. Down below in the crew quarters, a sailor left behind a photograph of a baby girl and, next to it, a couple of much-used playing cards.

Inside a metal cupboard the door to an officer's safe has swung open - there's nothing inside. But what really catches the eye are the stickers warning of asbestos.

At the moment, this hazardous material is safely embedded in wall-panels and the cladding around pipes.

During my visit, I only need to wear overalls and a hard-hat for protection. But once dismantling starts - if the courts ever allow it - the workers here will need full protective suits and breathing apparatus.

In the darkened depths of the engine room - the massive power plant just visible several floors below us - I try to picture the specialist team at work.

Beside me, Peter Stephenson, the no-nonsense Northerner who runs the contractors, Able UK, is dismissive of any possible risks.

"Toxic ships?" he snorts derisively. ""Can you see anything toxic?"

Well, not right now and in truth the vessels can hardly be said to pose any danger in their present state. But the risks start when the work does.

And anyway, standing on this massive and very American piece of unwanted military hardware, a more fundamental question looms: how the Pentagon's waste ended up here.