Own the night or die

Monday, January 19th, 2026

Own the night or die, John Spencer says:

In three major conflicts involving forces that range from professional to semiprofessional—the 2020 war between Azerbaijan and Armenia, the ongoing Russia-Ukraine war, and Israel’s campaign against Hamas after October 7, 2021—large-scale night operations have been notably rare. Outside of highly specialized units conducting limited raids, most decisive fighting has occurred during daylight. At night, both sides tend to pause, reorganize, and recover. In effect, the night is ceded rather than dominated.

That reality stands in sharp contrast to what the US military demonstrated in Operation Absolute Resolve. US forces executed a complex, high-risk mission deep inside a dense capital city at night. The operation required joint and interagency integration across air, land, sea, and cyber domains and fusing intelligence, special operations forces, and other capabilities. Power was cut. Targets were overwhelmed. The mission concluded with zero American casualties and zero loss of equipment. It was a near-flawless demonstration of a capability that takes decades to build and years to sustain.

That success is even more striking when viewed against earlier US experience. Operation Eagle Claw remains a cautionary case of what happens when night operations exceed institutional readiness. The 1980 hostage rescue attempt in Iran required unprecedented joint coordination and depended on a complex, multiphase plan involving long-range infiltration, helicopters, and clandestine ground movement deep inside hostile territory, much of it planned for execution under conditions of limited illumination and degraded visibility. Mechanical failures, severe dust storms, and navigation challenges reduced the assault force below the minimum required to continue the mission. During the withdrawal from Desert One—a staging area where the mission was aborted—a helicopter operating in degraded visibility collided with a transport aircraft, killing eight US servicemembers. Eagle Claw exposed serious deficiencies in joint planning, rehearsal, and integration. Strategically, it revealed the limits of American power projection in denied environments and directly drove sweeping reforms, including the creation of US Special Operations Command.

A decade later, Operation Just Cause marked significant progress but also underscored how darkness magnifies the challenges of identification, control, and coordination. The 1989 invasion of Panama involved approximately twenty-seven thousand US troops and successfully dismantled the Panamanian Defense Forces within days. The operation deliberately began at night, with major assaults initiated around midnight and continuing through hours of darkness, requiring near-simultaneous airborne and ground attacks against multiple objectives across Panama. During the opening night of the operation, including the seizure of Torrijos-Tocumen International Airport and other key sites, fratricide occurred amid limited visibility, compressed timelines, and the rapid convergence of aircraft and ground forces. The Joint Chiefs of Staff history of the operation highlights the extraordinary command-and-control demands created by this nighttime tempo, illustrating how darkness, density of friendly forces, and speed of execution strained identification and coordination even within an increasingly capable joint force. Just Cause demonstrated growing US proficiency in large-scale night operations, but it also showed that darkness punishes even small lapses in control, communication, and situational awareness.

The difference between those operations and more recent successes was not technology alone. It was mastery earned through relentless training, professionalization, and a force-wide expectation that fighting at night is not exceptional. It is preferred.

Adding radars, LiDARs, and other sensors to cameras does not meaningfully advance us toward full self-driving

Saturday, January 17th, 2026

Adding radars, LiDARs, and other sensors to cameras does not meaningfully advance us toward full self-driving, Genma_Jp argues:

Here are the six main reasons:

Marginal information gain: RADAR and LiDAR primarily provide depth and relative velocity — data that modern neural networks can already derive sufficiently from camera images alone, especially given that precision requirements decrease at longer distances.

LiDAR’s fundamental weaknesses: It performs poorly in rain, fog, and on reflective surfaces (blooming), produces sparse and noisy returns requiring fragile clustering, and lacks the angular resolution for reliable classification at distance.

RADAR’s practical limitations: Despite better weather penetration, it delivers extremely sparse detections, suffers from clustering and classification challenges, and often masks weaker objects behind stronger reflectors — particularly problematic for static infrastructure in low-speed scenarios.

Irreplaceable role of vision: RADAR and LiDAR cannot detect critical semantic information — traffic signs, lights, lane markings, or pedestrian intent cues. Stellar computer vision is mandatory anyway; the other sensors cannot compensate for its absence.

Cameras are robust enough: Modern imagers match or exceed human-eye performance, and practical mitigations (wipers, airflow) handle issues like raindrops. In truly degraded visibility, the safe response is to slow down — something an AV can do systematically, just as humans do.

Fusion as a crutch: Multi-sensor approaches deliver quick early wins by patching vision weaknesses, but they mask the need for true mastery of computer vision through massive data and compute. Companies end up over-investing in complex fusion logic instead of solving the hard problem.

Directed Infrared Counter Measures use a sophisticated laser to disrupt the incoming missile’s infrared “heat-seeking” sensor

Monday, January 5th, 2026

Early MANPADS (Man Portable Air Defence Systems) would lock onto the exhaust plumes of aircraft and were countered by deploying flares. Modern Directed Infrared Counter Measures (DIRCM) use a sophisticated laser to disrupt the incoming missile’s infrared “heat-seeking” sensor:

With a laser energy source embedded in a highly agile enclosed turret system, a DIRCM can be infinite in duration and provide protection for the whole mission, keeping aircrews safe even in dense threat engagement environments.

[…]

Whereas flares are omnidirectional, a DIRCM focusses a beam of light directly at an incoming missile. However, that beam of light needs to:

  • Be able to have line of sight to the missile — a DIRCM with a twin or triple turret system allows for multiple threats to be countered simultaneously, no matter how the aircraft may be manoeuvring
  • Be able to track and engage in a very short space of time — MANPADS can be supersonic in less than a second after firing
  • Emit significant laser energy power to disrupt the missile seeker for long enough so the missile is unable to acquire, re-acquire or track the aircraft

Not so blinding as New Mexico test because of bright sunlight

Sunday, January 4th, 2026

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. Groves At about 4:30 a.m. the Duty Officer delivered General Groves the detailed hoped-for cable from Farrell, as Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), which had been dispatched after the bomber returned to Tinian. It read:

Following additional information furnished by Parsons, crews, and observers on return to Tinian at 060500Z. Report delayed until information could be assembled at interrogation of crews and observers. Present at interrogation were Spaatz, Giles, Twining, and Davies.

Confirmed neither fighter or flak attack and one tenth cloud cover with large open hole directly over target. High speed camera reports excellent record obtained. Other observing aircraft also anticipates good records although films not yet processed. Reconnaissance aircraft taking post-strike photographs have not yet returned.

Sound—None appreciable observed.

Flash—Not so blinding as New Mexico test because of bright sunlight. First there was a ball of fire changing in a few seconds to purple clouds and flames boiling and swirling upward. Flash observed just after airplane rolled out of turn. All agreed light was intensely bright and white cloud rose faster than New Mexico test, reaching thirty thousand feet in minutes it was one-third greater diameter.

It mushroomed at the top, broke away from column and the column mushroomed again. Cloud was most turbulent. It went at least to forty thousand feet. Flattening across its top at this level. It was observed from combat airplane three hundred sixty-three nautical miles away with airplane at twenty-five thousand feet. Observation was then limited by haze and not curvature of the earth.

Blast—There were two distinct shocks felt in combat airplane similar in intensity to close flak bursts. Entire city except outermost ends of dock areas was covered with a dark grey dust layer which joined the cloud column. It was extremely turbulent with flashes of fire visible in the dust. Estimated diameter of this dust layer is at least three miles. One observer stated it looked as though whole town was being torn apart with columns of dust rising out of valleys approaching the town. Due to dust visual observation of structural damage could not be made.

At no time was there any idea of testing the gun-type bomb

Monday, December 29th, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. Groves In late June, as the forces under General MacArthur and Admiral Nimitz approached within bombing range of the Japanese homeland, General Groves realized that they had not been told about the ban on certain cities, as he explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), for at the time it was imposed they had been too far away to make it necessary:

This concern was soon removed, however, for when we brought the matter to the attention of the Joint Chiefs, they hastily reserved our targets from all air attack.

We were fairly sure by now that we would be able to test the Fat Man, the implosion-type bomb, sometime around the middle of July. (At no time was there any idea of testing the gun-type bomb.) Planning for this operation, which carried the code name of Trinity, had begun back in the spring of 1944 when Oppenheimer and I decided that a test might be necessary to make certain that the complex theories behind the implosion bomb were correct, and that it was soundly designed, engineered, manufactured and assembled—in short, that it would work.

We thought then that we might want to explode the first bomb inside a container, so that if a nuclear explosion did not take place or if it was a very small one, we might be able to recover all or much of the precious plutonium. Also, we wanted to prevent its being scattered over a wide area and creating a health hazard that would make it necessary to guard the area against trespassers for many years.

Consequently we ordered from Babcock and Wilcox a heavy steel container, which because of its great size, weight and strength was promptly christened Jumbo. To move it from the manufacturing plant in the East to New Mexico, it had to be loaded onto specially reinforced cars and carefully routed over the railroads. At the nearest railroad stop to the test site it was unloaded onto a specially built trailer with some thirty-six large wheels, and then driven overland about thirty miles to Alamogordo.

But by the time of the test we had decided we would not need to use Jumbo, for we had learned enough to be reasonably certain of a fair-sized nuclear explosion. Even if it were as low as 250 tons, as many of our scientists were predicting, the container would only create additional dangers.

It is interesting to speculate about what would have happened, with the actual explosion of almost twenty thousand tons, if we had used Jumbo. That the heat would have completely evaporated the entire steel casing is doubtful. If it did not, pieces of jagged steel would probably have been hurled for great distances.

The scientist in charge of the test was Dr. K. T. Bainbridge, who had the unusual qualification of being a physicist with undergraduate training in electrical engineering.

[…]

I had ruled out using Los Alamos for the test on grounds of security and also because I doubted if the area could be expanded sufficiently. Later, we decided that we would need a site measuring approximately seventeen by twenty-four miles, that it should be in a generally non-populated area, and that it should be no further from Los Alamos than necessary. I added one special prohibition: that it should have no Indian population at all, for I wanted to avoid the impossible problems that would have been created by Secretary of the Interior Harold L. Ickes, who had jurisdiction over the Bureau of Indian Affairs. His curiosity and insatiable desire to have his own way in every detail would have caused difficulties and we already had too many.

[…]

Air travel has improved considerably since those days. The field we used at Pasadena was very small, and our approach to it was impeded by some high-tension lines at the end of the strip. As he came in, our pilot found himself lined up on the taxiway and quite low. Instead of circling the field, he came in over the wires and then side-slipped, landing with a terrific bounce—both horizontal and vertical. Our landing brought everyone out of the small operations office, including one of my security officers who had missed the plane in San Francisco, and who was waiting to rejoin us in Pasadena. He remarked afterward that, if not the first, at least the second thought that flashed through his mind was: “How am I going to explain the accidental death of Bush, Conant and Groves, without publicity to the project and resulting breaches of security?”

We left the next morning from March Field in Riverside in order to be sure that the predicted Los Angeles fog would not interfere with our taking off.

[…]

The main problem was the weather. We had obtained the very best men that the armed forces had on long-range weather forecasting, and, for a considerable period, they had been making accurate long-range weather predictions for the test site. The only time they were not right was on the one day that counted. The weather that evening was quite blustery and misty, with some rain. Fortunately, the wind seemed to be in the right direction.

We were interested in the weather for a number of reasons: First and foremost, we wanted to avoid as much radioactive fallout2 as possible, particularly over populated areas. This was a matter that had not received any attention until about six months earlier, when one of the Los Alamos scientists, Joseph Hirschfelder, had brought up the possibility that it might be a real problem. For this reason, we felt it would be desirable to explode the bomb when rain was unlikely, since rain would bring down excessive fallout over a small area instead of permitting it to be widely distributed and therefore of little or no consequence. In reaching this decision we could not ignore the old reports that heavy battle cannonading had sometime brought on rain, even though no scientific basis was known for a such phenomenon.

Second, it was extremely important that the wind direction be satisfactory, because we did not want the cloud, if one developed, to pass over any populated areas until its radioactive contents were thoroughly dissipated. It was essential that it not pass over any town too large to be evacuated. The city about which we were most concerned was Amarillo, some three hundred miles away, but there were others large enough to cause us worry. The wind direction had to be correct to within a few degrees.

Third, we wanted suitable flying weather so that we could have observation planes flying over the near-by areas; and finally, we wanted to avoid prior heavy rain or continuous dampness, which might ruin our electrical connections, both for firing the bomb, and for the various instruments.

[…]

I was extremely anxious to have the test carried off on schedule. One reason for this was that I knew the effect that a successful test would have on the issuance and wording of the Potsdam ultimatum. I knew also that every day’s delay in the test might well mean the delay of a day in ending the war; not because we would not be ready with the bombs, for the production of fissionable material would continue at full tilt anyway, but because a delay in issuing the Potsdam ultimatum could result in a delay in the Japanese reaction, with a further delay to the atomic attack on Japan. Obviously, a reasonable time had to be allowed for the Japanese to consider the ultimatum.

From a purely technical point of view, also, it was desirable to avoid a postponement, for the chances of short circuits and a misfire would increase appreciably with every hour that our connections were subjected to excessive moisture.

[…]

It had originally been scheduled for 4 a.m. on July 16. This hour had been fixed with the thought that an explosion at that time would attract the least attention from casual observers in the surrounding area, since almost everyone would be asleep. We expected there would be a tremendous flash of light, but thought it would not be great enough to waken many people who were well removed from the burst. Then, too, we wanted the darkness for our photography.

[…]

As the hour approached, we had to postpone the test—first for an hour and then later for thirty minutes more—so that the explosion was actually three and one half hours behind the original schedule. While the weather did not improve appreciably, neither did it worsen. It was cloudy with light rain and high humidity; very few stars were visible. Every five or ten minutes, Oppenheimer and I would leave the dugout and go outside and discuss the weather. I was devoting myself during this period to shielding Oppenheimer from the excitement swirling about us, so that he could consider the situation as calmly as possible, for the decisions to be taken had to be governed largely by his appraisal of the technical factors involved.

[…]

Everyone was told to lie face down on the ground, with his feet toward the blast, to close his eyes, and to cover his eyes with his hands as the countdown approached zero. As soon as they became aware of the flash they could turn over and sit or stand up, covering their eyes with the smoked glass with which each had been supplied.

[…]

As I lay there, in the final seconds, I thought only of what I would do if, when the countdown got to zero, nothing happened. I was spared this embarrassment, for the blast came promptly with the zero count, at 5: 30 A.M., on July 16, 1945.

My first impression was one of tremendous light, and then as I turned, I saw the now familiar fireball. As Bush, Conant and I sat on the ground looking at this phenomenon, the first reactions of the three of us were expressed in a silent exchange of handclasps. We all arose so that by the time the shock wave arrived we were standing.

I was surprised by its comparative gentleness when it reached us almost fifty seconds later. As I look back on it now, I realize that the shock was very impressive, but the light had been so much greater than any human had previously experienced or even than we had anticipated that we did not shake off the experience quickly.

Unknown to me and I think to everyone, Fermi was prepared to measure the blast by a very simple device. He had a handful of torn paper scraps and, as it came time for the shock wave to approach, I saw him dribbling them from his hand toward the ground. There was no ground wind, so that when the shock wave hit it knocked some of the scraps several feet away. Since he dropped them from a fixed elevation from near his body which he had previously measured, the only measurement he now needed was the horizontal distance that they had traveled. He had already calculated in advance the force of the blast for various distances. So, after measuring the distance on the ground, he promptly announced the strength of the explosion. He was remarkably close to the calculations that were made later from the data accumulated by our complicated instruments.

I had become a bit annoyed with Fermi the evening before, when he suddenly offered to take wagers from his fellow scientists on whether or not the bomb would ignite the atmosphere, and if so, whether it would merely destroy New Mexico or destroy the world. He had also said that after all it wouldn’t make any difference whether the bomb went off or not because it would still have been a well worth-while scientific experiment. For if it did fail to go off, we would have proved that an atomic explosion was not possible. Afterward, I realized that his talk had served to smooth down the frayed nerves and ease the tension of the people at the base camp, and I have always thought that this was his conscious purpose. Certainly, he himself showed no signs of tension that I could see.

[…]

These plans proved utterly impracticable, for no one who had witnessed the test was in a frame of mind to discuss anything. The reaction to success was simply too great. It was not only that we had achieved success with the bomb; but that everyone—scientists, military officers and engineers—realized that we had been personal participants in, and eyewitnesses to, a major milestone in the world’s history and had a sobering appreciation of what the results of our work would be. While the phenomenon that we had just witnessed had been seriously discussed for years, it had always been thought of as a remote possibility—not as an actuality.

[…]

Several days after I got back to Washington, Dr. R. M. Evans, of the du Pont Company, came to see me about some of the operating problems at Hanford. After we had finished and as he was leaving, he turned, his hand on the doorknob, and said, “Oh, by the way, General, everybody in du Pont sends you their congratulations.” I quickly replied, “What are you talking about?” He answered, “It’s the first time we ever heard of the Army’s storing high explosives, pyrotechnics and chemicals in one magazine.” He went on to add that the radio announcement on the Pacific Coast had been teletyped in to Wilmington from Hanford. My only response was: “That was a strange thing for the Army to do, wasn’t it?”

[…]

Mr. Stimson’s diary for Sunday, July 22, 1945, is most enlightening:

Churchill read Groves’ report in full. He told me that he had noticed at the meeting of the Three yesterday that Truman was much fortified by something that had happened, that he had stood up to the Russians in a most emphatic and decisive manner, telling them as to certain demands that they could not have and that the United States was entirely against them. He said, “Now I know what happened to Truman yesterday. I couldn’t understand it. When he got to the meeting after having read this report, he was a changed man. He told the Russians just where they got on and off and generally bossed the whole meeting.” Churchill said he now understood how this pepping up had taken place and he felt the same way.

It took years, if not decades and centuries, after their first use for their revolutionary influence upon warfare to be felt

Tuesday, December 23rd, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesThere has never been an improvement in weapons comparable in degree and in sudden impact to the atomic bomb, General Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project):

In the case of other developments, such as explosives, the airplane, the tank, long-range artillery, armor-clad warships, submarines, and even rifles, it took years, if not decades and centuries, after their first use for their revolutionary influence upon warfare to be felt. In the case of the atomic bomb it took only a few hours.

[…]

When I told Arnold there was a chance that we might not be able to fit the bomb into the B-29, no matter how hard we tried, he asked me what I would do then. I said that if the B-29 could not be used, we would have to consider the use of a British plane, the Lancaster, which I was sure the Prime Minister would be glad to make available to us.

This brought from him the characteristic reply that I had hoped and expected to hear: that he wanted an American plane to deliver our bomb, and that the Air Force would make every effort to ensure that we had a B-29 capable of doing the job.

[…]

Fortunately, as time went on, we were able to make changes in the design of both types of bombs, so that it became possible to fit them into a specially modified B-29.

[…]

The effects of General Arnold’s wholehearted co-operation became very evident when elements of the Air Force appeared reluctant to furnish the necessary number of B-29’ s. Their reaction was quite understandable, for these planes were in such short supply that it was impossible to give the crews that were to operate them overseas even the desired minimum of training.

After exploring the situation, Wilson told me that the only way we could get the planes was for me to go see Arnold myself. Even then, in his judgment, we would not get them until shortly before the actual operation.

General Arnold did not hesitate. He fell in with my request almost without discussion, without any evidence of disinclination, and without any suggestion that I might get along with a smaller number. This was typical of all my experiences in dealing with him. He fully realized the importance of the project and never expressed the slightest doubt of our ultimate success.

As I left Arnold’s office to walk down to Wilson’s to tell him how I had made out, he met me in the hall and said that Arnold had just telephoned him. When he added that he was completely surprised and quite impressed by Arnold’s prompt agreement, I replied that I was not the least bit surprised; it was just what I had expected.

Not only did Arnold’s action in this case provide us with the planes we so urgently needed, but it indelibly impressed upon all his staff that MED requests were to be granted without argument.

This stood us in good stead until a few months before our actual operations against the Japanese began, when Parsons reported that he did not think our planes were in the best operating condition, and said they should be replaced by new ones. Investigation showed that he was right, but again Wilson felt it would be impossible to do much about it because of the tremendous demands for B-29’ s in the Pacific Theater.

When I appealed to Arnold, however, his response again was quick and emphatic. He said that in view of the vast national effort that had gone into the Manhattan Project, no slip-up on the part of the Air Force was going to be responsible for a failure. He then asked me how many new planes I needed, and I replied that as a minimum I would need one to carry the bomb. While several more to carry instruments and make observations would be desirable, they were not essential. I made it clear, however, that no matter what else might suffer, we must have one plane that would be in absolutely perfect working condition when we were ready for the final take-off. Immediately Arnold said that he would order fourteen new planes for us, and fourteen more to be placed in reserve to meet emergency needs. He repeated that no matter what else might go wrong, no one would ever be able to say that the Air Force did not do its utmost to support the Manhattan Project. In this, he was entirely correct.

The new lot of B-29’ s was delivered to Wendover Field, Utah, during the spring of 1945. These planes had fuel injection engines, electrically controlled reversible propellers, and were generally much better than their predecessors, particularly from the standpoint of ruggedness.

[…]

Tibbets had been the Operations Officer of the 97th Bombardment Group in the North African and European Theater of Operations, where he had flown the usual number of combat missions, and had then been returned to the United States. Since his return, he had been engaged in testing the B-29 and in formulating the instructions for its use in combat. He was a superb pilot of heavy planes, with years of military flying experience, and was probably as familiar with the B-29 as anyone in the service.

[…]
Insofar as possible the group’s officers should have been men who might reasonably be expected to remain in the regular service after the war. We should have recognized the importance of this but, as far as I know, nobody did. Although this mistake made no difference in the accomplishment of our immediate goal, in the postwar years it has been most unfortunate that we have not had in the regular service as many men as possible who were experienced in the use of atomic bombs in actual war. Indeed, sixteen years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, only four—Tibbets and Ashworth, a weaponeer, and the two bombardiers, Ferebee and Beahan—remain on active duty.

[…]

The total authorized strength of the 509th Group was set at 225 officers and 1,542 enlisted men. It was a completely self-contained unit, including besides its Heavy Bombardment Squadron, a Troop Carrier Squadron and all other essential supporting units.

[…]

In September, after it became clear that we would use both a gun-assembly bomb (the Little Boy) and an implosion bomb (the Fat Man), 4 we decided to freeze the external shapes of the three models then existent—one Little Boy and two Fat Men. This was to permit completion of the necessary modifications to the B-29 so that the training of the 509th would not be delayed. The first planes were ready in October and were delivered to Colonel Tibbets at the Wendover Army Air Base, which went under the code name of “Kingman” and sometimes “W-47.” The ballistic tests were begun that same month and were continued until August 8, 1945, by which time each of the two models finally adopted had been dropped in combat.

[…]

In December, the 393rd Squadron was sent to Batista Field, Cuba, for two months of special training in long over-water flights. The program also included training in high-altitude visual and radar bombing. On these practice missions, formation flights were habitually avoided and the crews grew accustomed to operating singly. This was not because we anticipated sending unescorted single planes against Japan, but rather because we were not sure that the escort planes would accompany the bomb-carrying plane all the way from its take-off to the target and back; therefore, we wanted it to be fully capable of independent navigation.

This special training proved very fortunate indeed when later General Curtis LeMay adopted the plan of using a single plane for each bombing mission. This placed all navigational responsibility on the navigator of that plane and was completely at variance with the standard Air Force navigational procedures. Normally, bomber missions were flown by massive formations, with the lead plane carrying a thoroughly competent navigator. The navigators in the other planes were not as a rule nearly so experienced. Fortunately, because of our insistence upon a high state of navigational training throughout the 393rd Squadron, the 509th Group was not caught short when LeMay’s proposal was put into effect.

After the 393rd Bombing Squadron returned to Wendover from the Caribbean, its training continued, and the fliers gained much valuable experience in the course of the ballistic testing of dummy bombs similar in dimensions and weight to the atomic bombs that were eventually used. At first the dummies were inert; later some were filled with normal high explosives. They were never, of course, loaded with any fissionable material. Most of our ballistic testing was conducted at a range in the Salton Sea area. Out of these tests came the information we needed to aim the final bombs accurately.

The development of nuclear energy in Germany never got beyond the laboratory stage

Sunday, December 21st, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesBoris Pash, leader of the Alsos Mission, was about twenty miles ahead of the advanced elements of the Seventh Army, General Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), as they pushed through the Bavarian Alps:

Finding the bridge into Urfeld destroyed, his group of eight dismounted from their vehicles and joined a ten-man reconnaissance patrol, entering Urfeld in the late afternoon of May 2. About an hour later, a German unit tried to pass through the town and a hot fire fight broke out. Shortly afterward, the patrol withdrew, leaving Pash in control of the town but alone. I could never straighten out in my own mind just what happened that night. But the following will give a general picture.

At sundown Pash was told that a German general wished to see him. The general was admitted and immediately surrendered his entire division to the very surprised chief of the Alsos mission. Pash, thinking fast, replied that it was getting late and he did not wish to bother his own general, who was right behind him with a large force, with any formalities that night; so the Germans would have to wait until morning to have their surrender officially accepted. No sooner had the first general departed than another German commander, this time of seven or eight hundred men, arrived and the procedure was repeated. By now, Pash was thoroughly alarmed for the safety of his infinitesimal force, and, as soon as it became thoroughly dark, he withdrew quietly toward the American lines. Shortly before this he had found Heisenberg, but with the difficult situation confronting him he felt it wiser to leave him in his home for the time being. During the night, he was able to obtain the support of an infantry battalion. He returned at dawn on May 3 and picked up Heisenberg, who was waiting in an office with his bag already packed. When Pash entered, Heisenberg greeted him with: “I have been expecting you.” Heisenberg was immediately evacuated to Heidelberg.

Pash’s last effort typified the boldness with which he carried out every one of his operations, and clearly demonstrated his ability to stick to his objective, which, in this case, had been to catch Heisenberg. Heisenberg was one of the world’s leading physicists and, at the time of the German break-up, he was worth more to us than ten divisions of Germans. Had he fallen into Russian hands, he would have proven invaluable to them. As it was, he has always remained on the side of the West. Judging from other actions taken at that time, we seemed to be almost alone in our appreciation of the potential value of German scientists to the Russians. With Heisenberg in our custody, all his colleagues began to talk freely. We soon learned that, although Gerlach had been in administrative charge of the work, he had only a superficial knowledge of its technical details. Diebner was not particularly co-operative and seemed to be rather antagonistic toward Heisenberg. Gerlach and Heisenberg were on cordial terms and appeared to consider Diebner an inferior scientist. Heisenberg was, outwardly at least, actively anti-Nazi, but was nevertheless strongly nationalistic. None of them seemed to know very much about the Allies’ nuclear fission efforts; Gerlach spoke several times of the poor quality of German technical intelligence. There was no German counterpart of Alsos.

After Hamburg fell, Harteck was captured. He had written a letter on April 24, 1939, in which he advised the War Ministry that:

We take the liberty of calling to your attention the newest development in nuclear physics which in our opinion will perhaps make it possible to produce an explosive which is many orders of magnitude more effective than the present one … it is obvious that if the possibility of energy production outlined above can be realized, which certainly is within the realm of possibility, that country which first makes use of it, has an unsurpassable advantage over the others.

However, Harteck, like the other German scientists, seemed to have come to feel that, while there was some hope of producing energy from a uranium pile, it was unlikely, if not entirely impossible, that a workable weapon could be developed. The various possibilities open to the Germans were never systematically and completely investigated. This was because their work was seriously deficient in over-all direction, unity of purpose and coordination between the participating agencies. Originally, there had been a number of more or less competing groups, one under Army Ordnance, another under the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute of Physics, and still another under the Postal Department.

There was continual bickering, as might be expected, over supplies and material, and surprisingly enough, in the light of most American scientists’ pleas for freedom from the restrictions of compartmentalization, there was a generally nonco-operative attitude regarding the exchange of information between the various groups. Many German scientists worked alone on their individual projects and did not seem to feel any compulsion to work for the national interest. The basic reason for this was probably the generally accepted belief that the development of a nuclear weapon was not possible.

In any case, the development of nuclear energy in Germany never got beyond the laboratory stage, and even there the principal consideration was its use for power rather than for explosives. Other scientific objectives seemed to be more important and received greater governmental attention and support.

The status of the German effort at the close of the war in Europe was reminiscent of the early phases of our project in the United States, when committees were appointed only to be superseded by other committees. At times it seemed as though more thought had to be devoted to organization than to solving the problems under study.

Boris Pash led an interesting life:

Boris Fedorovich Pashkovsky was born in San Francisco, California, on 20 June 1900. His father was Reverend Theodore Pashkovsky (who would become Most Reverend Metropolitan Theophilus from 1934 to 1950), a Russian Orthodox priest and later archbishop who had been sent to California by the Church in 1894.

[…]

One of Boris´s earliest memories was of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake.

His father was recalled to Russia in 1906, and the entire family returned to Russia in 1913.

In 1916–1917, both father and son joined the ranks of the Russian army as it fought against Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire in World War I: Theodore – as a military chaplain, and 16-year-old Boris – as an artillery private to the 52nd Infantry Division. During the Russian Revolution, the family fled to Simferopol, Crimea, where Boris worked for the YMCA. By February 1920, Boris joined the White navy in the Black Sea and served on the navy cruiser General Kornilov. Boris saw action against the Bolsheviks at sea, and in March 1920, he was awarded the Cross of St. George, fourth class.

On 1 July 1920, he married Lydia Vladimirovna Ivanova, and chose to return to the United States when the Bolshevik consolidation of power became apparent. He was able to secure employment with the YMCA in Berlin, where his son Edgar Constantine Boris Pashkovsky was born on 14 June 1921.

Upon returning to the United States with his family in 1923, he attended Springfield College, in Springfield, Massachusetts, where he graduated with a Bachelor of Physical Education. It was during this time that he changed the family name from Pashkovsky to Pash.

Pash taught and coached baseball at Hollywood High School in Los Angeles from 1924 until 1940, where students included Lana Turner, Judy Garland, and Mickey Rooney. During this time he continued his education, receiving a Master of Science in Education from the University of Southern California in 1939. He also joined the United States Army Reserve, and was assigned to the Infantry Intelligence Branch. As part of his training, he qualified for certification by the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

France acquired a bargaining power out of all proportion to anything to which her early patents entitled her

Wednesday, December 17th, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesGeneral Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project) the problem of the French scientists:

The circum­stances that made this possible go back to 1939, when a group of French scientists, working under Joliot’s leadership, had patented a number of inventions that they claimed would provide means for controlling the energy of the uranium atom. They assigned their rights in these patents to the Centre Nationale de la Recherche Scientifique, an agency of the French Government.

One of Joliot’s assistants in this work was Hans von Halban. In June of 1940, when France was collapsing under the German onslaught, von Halban had left for England, taking with him the entire French supply of heavy water, a number of scientific papers, and a verbal commission from Joliot to act for the Centre in attempting to obtain the best possible terms to protect future French interests in the atomic field.

[…]

At the same time, the British employed von Halban and three of his associates from the Centre, eventually, as I have said, assigning them to the laboratories of the Tube Alloys Project in Montreal. By 1944, a number of other Centre scientists had left France to join the Free French Provisional Government in Algiers. The French working in the Montreal laboratories maintained contact with their former colleagues in North Africa and, through them, with their former leader, Joliot, who remained in Paris throughout the German occupation.

[…]

Upon his return to London, von Halban was closely questioned by my agents about his discussions with Joliot and it became obvious, as we had expected, that he had not held the conversation within the bounds of any “barest outline.” Vital information relating to our research had been disclosed—information that had been developed by Americans with American money, and that had been given to the British only in accordance with interchange agreements subsidiary to the Quebec Agreement. It confirmed facts that Joliot might have suspected, but which he otherwise could not have known. This information had always been scrupulously regarded as top secret.

[…]

Having effected a breach in the Quebec Agreement, Joliot proceeded to exploit it. He met with the Chancellor in February, 1945, and made it clear to Sir John that, while France had no immediate desire to press the issue, if she were not eventually admitted to full collaboration with the United States and Britain in the project, she would have to turn to Russia.

Thus, France acquired a bargaining power out of all proportion to anything to which her early patents entitled her. She was enabled to play power politics with our accomplishments and to bring, or threaten to bring, Russia into the picture. The United States was forced to sit quietly by while a large measure of the military security that we had gone to such pains to maintain was endangered and prematurely compromised by the actions of other governments over which we had no control.

In May of 1945, the French Government instructed Joliot to begin work on an atomic energy project. Joliot turned to his colleague, Pierre Auger, who had been working in the Montreal laboratories. Anticipating our concern, the British hastened to assure us that Auger would not participate in the actual work, but would limit his activities strictly to putting the French back on the right line if they made any serious errors. While Dr. Chadwick and I were both confident of Auger’s integrity, we realized that naturally his greatest loyalty was to his own country.

[…]

My sole source of satisfaction in this affair came from a remark made by Joliot to an employee of the United States Embassy in Paris: while the British had always been most cordial to him and had given him much information, he said, he got virtually nothing from the Americans he encountered.

This is essentially a subterranean precision strike

Tuesday, December 16th, 2025

Palmer Lucky recently made a bunch of comments about subterranean warfare and everyone snarked, Object Zero notes, all the tools to do it already exist today:

It’s an oil rig of course. But rather a directional drilling rig with a heavy duty derrick and a travelling block suitable for getting the full tensile capacity out of 6-5/8 drill pipe. This already exists.

When you drill an oil well you drill 30ft at a time, every time you drill 30ft, you stop and screw another 30ft length of drill pipe to the drill string and then keep turning to the right.

Oil wells always used to be vertical, but as oil reservoirs are usually pancake shaped drillers figured out how to drill a bend radius in the well so that the well bore could run a long horizontal length through more of the oil reservoir, as this allows more oil to flow into the well (well has more wall area in contact with the oil bearing rock).

These days, a good driller can keep the drill bit within about +/-0.5m of where they want it to be. You can steer the drill “bottom hole assembly” that drills the well using some clever motors and hydraulic signals.

This is essentially a subterranean precision strike. It already exists. It’s like fly by wire, but a mile underground travelling through rock.

Now what about weapons, explosives, munitions, etc. obviously for military applications you want some sort of explosive and the oil industry doesn’t do explosives.

Au contraire, have you heard of perforation guns?

Perforation guns are used on every oil well. Once the well has been drilled you case the walls with steel casing pipe (slide a big pipe into the well to stop the walls collapsing) and then run a production tube into the casing pipe. Production tubing is just another very long steel pipe but one that comes off a coil.

The problem is that oil cannot flow into the well, because the walls are cased with steel casing pipe, so the driller attaches a perforation gun to the bottom of the production tubing and fires the gun in the bottom of the well.

The perforation gun is a long heavy mandrel with 100s of guns all pointing radially. These guns shoot holes in the steel casing pipe so that the well can start to flow. The whole system delivers 100s of armour piecing guns via the subterranean domain.

Maybe Schlumberger is a stealth defence prime?

Anyway, it’s possible to drill your well maybe a mile deep then to turn horizontal and drill many many miles toward some target (10 miles is the record for commercial applications, but a lot more is possible before you hit technical maximums).

You can then steer the drill bit back up toward the surface and even out of the ground, delivering a 30ft rod that pierces up out of the ground and blasts 100s of armour piercing rounds in a 360 degree zone from ground level to 30ft elevation.

Think how scary this would be (I’ll post a video below).

Delivering perf guns via a surfacing long horizontal leg seems like a certain way to level a building including heavily reinforced or bunkered facilities.

This is all doable today, it’s just expensive compared to other options.

Militant, at any event, after the armistice

Monday, December 15th, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesItalian scientific research and development, General Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), had been generally disorganized and was almost militant in its resistance to the Fascist state — militant, at any event, after the armistice:

Both Wick and Amaldi had served in the Italian Army and since the surrender had been hiding in Rome. During the war they had engaged in theoretical research principally on isotope separation, neutron, infrared and cosmic rays. They had no direct information about German research in the field of nuclear fission, for they had never been asked to do any work with or for the Germans. They claimed not to understand the significance of heavy water, and they were not aware of any new activity at the Joachimsthal uranium mines in Czechoslovakia.

Wick had made a trip into Germany during June and July of 1942, and had seen and talked at some length with a number of German physicists at that time and, together with Amaldi, had been shown some of the correspondence between various German scientists; thus they were able to supply us with some useful information. They were most co-operative, and what they gave us was the basis for the compilation of brief accounts of the activities and locations of a number of Germans who were of outstanding interest to the MED. Although later investigations in Germany proved that some of the information obtained in Rome was not wholly accurate, in the main it was well worth the trouble we had gone to in collecting it.

[…]

Throughout the European campaign, as far as atomic efforts were concerned, Alsos members had the tremendous advantage of knowing where they were going and whom and what they were seeking. When they landed on the Continent, they had in hand the fruits of Calvert’s labors, in the form of a comprehensive list of intelligence “targets” — the names of key individuals, where they worked and where they lived; and the location of the laboratories, workshops and storage points, and other items of interest to us. At the head of the list was the famous French atomic scientist, Frederic Joliot-Curie (later High Commissioner of Atomic Energy for France), and his equally famous wife, Irene Curie, the daughter of Madame Curie, discoverer of radium.

[…]

On August 25, they reached Paris, at the Porte d’Orleans, ahead of the French troops, and waited there for about half an hour until General LeClerc arrived with his armored division. The General led the triumphal entry, at 8:55 that morning, but tucked into the column, directly behind the first tank was an American jeep containing the first representatives of the U.S. Army: Pash, Calvert and two other Alsos agents.

[…]

There, on the steps of the university, they found Joliot and some of his staff, all wearing FFI arm bands. That evening they celebrated the liberation with Joliot by drinking some champagne he had reserved for the occasion. The American soldier’s staff of life, the K ration, served as the hors d’oeuvres. In keeping with the scientific surroundings, the champagne was drunk from laboratory beakers.

In the course of their conversation with Joliot, the names of two of his former colleagues came up: Hans von Halban, born an Austrian in Leipzig and later naturalized as a French citizen, and Lew Kowarski. Both men had left France for England in June of 1940 and had been working in the British Tube Alloys Project in Canada. Joliot immediately surmised that there was some connection between them, Pash and Calvert, and the uranium problem.

They did not openly tell him at first what they wanted of him. However, after an hour’s conversation, Joliot willingly told them just what they wanted to hear: that it was his sincere belief that the Germans had made very little progress on uranium and they were not remotely close to making an atomic bomb. He said he had refused to perform any war work for the Nazis and had forbidden them to use his laboratories for such purposes. However, after the occupation commenced, he said he did allow two German scientists to move into his laboratory to continue academic work on nuclear physics. He added that he talked with them frequently and clandestinely checked their work at night after the laboratory was closed, thus keeping constant surveillance on their activity. How true this all was we never knew.

[…]

The College of France, which was Joliot’s laboratory, owned a cyclotron, and a number of German scientists of interest to the MED had spent varying lengths of time there operating it. Among them was Professor Erich Schumann, who headed the German Army Research conducted by the Ordnance Department and who, during the war, served as the personal adviser on scientific research to Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel. Schumann was credited with initiating work on the German uranium project, although by the end of 1942 his responsibilities had been transferred to the Reich’s Research Council.

Another visitor to Joliot’s laboratory was Dr. Kurt Diebner, who in 1939 had served as Schumann’s right-hand man and who had continued nuclear research under the Reich’s Research Council. Then there was Professor Walther Bothe, an outstanding German nuclear experimentalist in the physics laboratory of the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Medical Research. Dr. Abraham Essau, who until early 1944 was in charge of physics under the German Ministry of Education in the Reich’s Research Council, had made a number of visits to Paris. Essau had been president of the Ministry’s Bureau of Standards until January, 1944, when he was replaced as Plenipotentiary for Nuclear Physics by Walther Gerlach. There was also Dr. Wolfgang Gertner, an able German scientist who, before the war, had been associated with Ernest Lawrence in the United States. Gertner was an outstanding German authority on cyclotron operations. Joliot’s other visitors had included Dr. Erich Bagge, a member of the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute, who specialized in isotope separation, and Dr. Werner Maurer, an experimental physicist engaged in nuclear research.

Joliot consistently maintained that he had acquiesced in the Germans’ use of the cyclotron with the distinct understanding that its use would not be of direct military assistance to their war effort. There was no independent evidence that this condition was made. There may have been a promise made to him by some of the German scientists, or they may have said that there appeared to be no military possibilities that could result from the use of the cyclotron, but I never found any real proof of Joliot’s contention. Certainly, his subsequent behavior — and I shall come to that shortly — gave us room for doubt.

[…]

The most difficult problem that Calvert’s intelligence group had to tackle was to find out where Hitler was hiding his atomic scientists. They knew, as everyone did, that before the war the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute in Berlin had been a focal point for all atomic physicists and atomic research, not only in Germany, but in all of Europe. It was there that Otto Hahn and Fritz Strassman had carried out their startling experiments. It was also the home of Max Planck, the internationally famous atomic scientist.

As the war drew on, however, and the bombing of Berlin was stepped up, we had learned from both aerial reconnaissance and a Berlin scientist, who got word to us through the Norwegian underground, that research on uranium had been moved, presumably to a safer location, but where he did not know.

[…]

The first information had trickled through in the summer of 1943. It seemed so innocuous that we did not appreciate its full import until much later. It was in the form of a report from an ungraded1 Swiss informant, received by the British Secret Intelligence, stating that a certain Swiss scientist, who was allegedly pro-Nazi, was aiding in the development of an explosive a thousand times more powerful than TNT. His experiments and research were being conducted in the greatest of secrecy in an unused spinning mill in Bisingen, Germany. Inasmuch as Allied Intelligence was receiving hundreds of reports of this nature daily, and coupled with the absence from this one of any telltale words or phrases, such as uranium, atoms, heavy water, cyclotrons or the like, Calvert catalogued this item but did not attach immediate importance to it.

Next, in the fall of 1943, American censorship had intercepted a letter from a prisoner of war in which he mentioned that he was working in a “research laboratory numbered ‘D.’” The letter was postmarked Hechingen, Germany, which is three miles north of Bisingen, in the Black Forest region of Germany, where many secret German projects had been moved. But again the report was so scanty that one could hardly assume that Germany’s atomic research was being carried on in these outwardly sleepy little villages.

It.was not until the spring of 1944 that Calvert received his first solid information. Then the OSS reported from Berne, Switzerland, that a Swiss scientist and professor had said that Dr. Werner Heisenberg, an internationally famous nuclear physicist and one of Germany’s top atomic scientists—if not the top—was living near Hechingen. We knew from other intelligence that Heisenberg was working on the uranium problem. With this new bit of information, Calvert knew that he had found the hiding place of Hitler’s top atomic scientists.

[…]

Calvert’s next big problem was to try to penetrate the area. To do that he would have to get somebody who knew it extremely well. British Intelligence located a vicar living in England who before the war had been Vicar of Bisingen. He was able to pinpoint and identify buildings and factories for us. He also pointed out buildings that had housed spinning mills.

At the same time Calvert sent a very reliable and able OSS agent, Moe Berg, the former catcher of the Washington Senators and Boston Red Sox, and a master of seven foreign languages, into Switzerland to prepare for a surreptitious entry into the Hechin-gen-Bisingen area. While Berg was in Switzerland, he picked up additional information and, passing himself off as a Swiss student, even attended a lecture given by Heisenberg, who had been granted permission to travel outside Germany to deliver this one speech. When I heard of Calvert’s plan for Berg to go into the Hechingen-Bisingen area, I immediately stopped it, realizing that if he were captured, the Nazis might be able to extract far more information about our project than we could ever hope to obtain if he were successful.

[…]

Starting in July, Calvert put the Bisingen-Hechingen area under constant air-photo surveillance. The pilots who flew these missions were never told of the nature of the suspected targets, lest they be interrogated in the event of a crash landing. At first our aerial reconnaissance produced nothing new. Then in the fall of 1944, we had our biggest scare to date. After one aerial sortie it was observed that near the town of Bisingen a number of slave labor camps had been erected with incredible speed. Ground had been broken and a complex of industrial sites had mushroomed within a period of two weeks. Railroad spurs had been constructed; mountains of materials had been moved in; power lines had been erected; and there was every indication that something was being built that commanded the utmost priority. Aerial interpreters, intelligence officers, our own technicians and scientists were all baffled after studying the photographs. Nobody could offer any sensible explanation of this new construction. All we knew was that throughout the past year we had been getting reports that this area was housing Germany’s top atomic scientists. The only thing upon which we could all agree was that whatever the construction was, it was unique. Naturally the first question that came to our minds was whether this was the start of Germany’s “Oak Ridge.” If it was, we did not want to bomb it immediately, since that would only drive the project underground and we would run the risk of not finding it again in time. Yet we could not let construction progress too far, particularly since this was just at the time when it was thought that the Germans might withdraw to the Black Forest and make it a redoubt area. Fortunately our anxiety was short-lived, and the fear of a German atomic plant was dissipated almost as quickly as it had arisen, when some British mining experts recognized that what we had been observing so closely was nothing more than a new form of shale-oil-cracking plant.

[…]

Before the war, when Union Miniere was the world’s leading supplier of uranium and radium, a number of German firms had purchased uranium products for normal peacetime uses, as well as for retrading purposes. The shipments involved in such transactions normally consisted of less than a ton per month of assorted refined materials, but since June, 1940, orders from a number of German companies had increased spectacularly.

A preliminary study conducted by Union Miniere indicated that a quantity of material was still in Belgium. Part of it was ready for shipment, but probably had not yet been removed. When I learned of this, I immediately sent Furman back to Europe with instructions to locate and secure the material. He and Pash conferred with General Bedell Smith, who arranged for the British 21st Army Group to support Alsos in its recovery operations, without revealing to the British the name or purpose of the material being sought. The area where they expected the ore to be was then in the front lines of the British sector and under light sniper fire. Pash and two of his agents hunted for it from September 19 to 25 before they finally found it. The captured ores amounted to sixty-eight tons, which were placed under joint American and British control and removed from Belgium to the United States by way of England.

Information obtained in Belgium led to further investigations in Eindhoven, near Antwerp, where we learned that in May of 1940, nine cars containing approximately seventy-two tons of uranium ores had been shipped out to Le Havre, France, ahead of the German invasion. Apparently, the Germans had seized two of the nine carloads at Le Havre, while the remainder were rerouted to Bordeaux. I instructed Alsos to obtain clearance from Supreme Headquarters, and then to locate this material and secure as much of it as possible. Pash and Calvert concentrated at first on an area in the vicinity of Perigueux, France, and finally in early October expanded their search to include much of southwestern and southern France. They were greatly hindered in their search by the presence of several thousand German troops, who had been cut off south of the Loire River by the Seventh Army. Eventually, they found thirty tons of the missing ore in Toulouse, but the remaining forty-two tons eluded us.

Calvert had by then determined where almost all of the Union Miniere ore in Germany was located and asked permission to make plans to go behind the German lines to get it. I denied his request, for I thought that any such attempt would be doomed to failure, and, what was more important, it would alert the Germans to the fact that we considered the ore to be of such value that we would take great risks to obtain it.

[…]

This operation at Strasbourg was by far the most successful that Alsos had conducted up to that time. The information gained there indicated quite definitely that Hitler had been apprised in 1942 of the possibilities of a nuclear weapon. Nevertheless, all evidence from Strasbourg clearly pointed to the fact that, as of the latter part of 1944, the enemy’s efforts to develop a bomb were still in the experimental stages, and greatly increased our belief that there was little probability of any sudden nuclear surprise from Germany.

Their best prospects lay in the use of plutonium

Saturday, December 13th, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesIt had begun to seem possible early in 1943, General Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), that the Germans could have progressed to the point where they might be able to use atomic bombs against us, or, more likely, against England:

Although this possibility seemed extremely remote to me, a number of the senior scientists in the project disagreed. One even went so far as to urge that I should warn the American people in an official broadcast that the United States might be hit by an atomic bomb. Naturally, I was opposed to doing any such thing. What I thought more likely was that the Germans would use an ordinary explosive bomb containing radioactive material. If we were unable to neutralize the effects of such a weapon promptly, a major panic could easily sweep through the Allied countries.

However, as the plans for the invasion of Europe began to take form, we considered very seriously indeed the possibility that the Germans might lay down some kind of radioactive barrier along the invasion routes. We could not calculate with any certainty the likelihood of their doing this, for we were truly in the dark then about their progress in atomic development. It had always seemed to most of us that their best prospects lay in the use of plutonium, which would demand a much smaller industrial effort as well as considerably less in the way of time, critical equipment and materials than any other method—provided they were willing to ignore safety precautions. This I felt the Germans would do, for considering what we already knew of their treatment of their Jewish minority, we could only assume they would not hesitate to expose these same citizens to excessive radiation. Hitler and his ardent supporters, we felt, would consider this a proper use for an “inferior” group, quite apart from the saving in effort and materials and time. Moreover, we knew that in the course of developing the plutonium process the Germans were certain to discover that tremendous quantities of highly radioactive fission products would be produced in their reactors. It would be perfectly natural for them to think of using these to lay down a barrier through which ground troops could not pass without disastrous results.

At the request of the Military Policy Committee, a three-man group, Conant, Compton and Urey, assisted by other project members, had made a study of radioactive poisoning; and on the basis of their report we had ordered a supply of portable Geiger counters and were training a number of our personnel to use them.

[…]

The Chief Surgeon, Major General Paul R. Hawley, issued two cover orders designed to insure that GHQ would be promptly alerted if the Germans did resort to radioactive warfare, but worded in such a way as to disguise the real nature of the danger. One order said that trouble had been experienced with fogging (which always results when film is exposed to radiation) on certain photographic and X-ray films and that if any such trouble was noted by troops in the field, an immediate report should be made, citing lot numbers, so that defective film could be withdrawn from use.

It would take a combination of three requisite factors to make a bomb

Thursday, December 11th, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesGeneral Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), that in making his initial appraisal of the German atomic picture, Captain Horace K. Calvert knew it would take a combination of three requisite factors to make a bomb:

Those were: (1) a sufficient number of top nuclear scientists and technical assistants; (2) the basic fuel for a bomb—uranium, and possibly thorium, probably combined with uranium; and (3) laboratories to develop it and industrial means to make it.

He started working on the fuel problem first, for we were sure of Germany’s scientific and industrial ability to do the job. Thorium seemed out of the question, since it is mined chiefly in Brazil and India and, because of embargoes, Germany had been unable to import any since the war began, and had had only insignificant stocks on hand before the war. The basic fuel was thought to be uranium. Considering our own firsthand knowledge of the enormous industrial effort required to produce U-235, we were confident that we would have seen evidences of any such program had one existed. It seemed more likely that they would use plutonium. That they had enough to launch an atomic program seemed to be within the realm of possibility, for we knew there had been a large stockpile of refined uranium ore at Oolen, Belgium, a few miles outside Brussels, which originally had been the property of Union Miniere.

The only other possible supply of uranium was the mines at Joachimsthal, Czechoslovakia, which was not a particularly significant source. Most of this ore was shipped to a uranium plant outside Berlin, the Auer-Gesellschaft. British Intelligence kept in touch with the activities of these mines, and in July, 1944, Calvert’s group started periodic aerial surveillance over the entire mining area, studying the pictures in detail for new shafts and aboveground activity. Tailing piles from each mine were microscopically measured from one reconnaissance to the next. By knowing the general grade of the ore and measuring the piles, we could determine with some degree of accuracy the mine’s daily production. There were no signs of extraordinary activity.

It would have been imperative for Hitler to enlist the aid of all his top scientists. Allied Intelligence had established that many of them were working on the “V” weapon; particularly at Peenemiinde, but to our knowledge no nuclear physicists had been reported there. Calvert started a search for some fifty German nuclear scientists. He knew that there must be many young scientists who had come up since Hitler’s rise to power of whom we had no knowledge; however, if we could locate a few of the top people, they should lead us to the rest. All the present and back issues of the German physics journals were scrutinized. Foreign-born nuclear scientists in the United States, like Enrico Fermi, O. R. Frisch and Niels Bohr, as well as anti-Nazi professors and scientists in Switzerland, Sweden and other neutral countries, were questioned in detail to obtain any past or present information they might have on the whereabouts of the German scientists. The names of all German scientists were placed on watch lists with American and British intelligence agencies which were daily scanning German newspapers that had been smuggled out. Before long we had recent addresses for a majority of the scientists in whom we were interested.

The third main category of pre-D-Day investigation, laboratories and industrial plants, was studied in much the same way. Lists were compiled of all of the precious metal refineries, the physics laboratories, the handlers of uranium and thorium, manufacturers of centrifugal and reciprocating pumps, power plants and other such installations as were known to exist in the Axis countries. These were placed on a master list from which they were not removed until we had positive information that they were not engaged in, or supplying, an atomic program. All plants where work of an unknown nature was being conducted were checked through aerial reconnaissance, the underground, OSS and all the numerous intelligence agencies.

120 kilograms of heavy water were being delivered to the Nazis each month

Tuesday, December 9th, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesWe did not make any appreciable effort during the war, General Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), to secure information on atomic developments in Japan:

First, and most important, there was not even the remotest possibility that Japan had enough uranium or uranium ore to produce the necessary materials for a nuclear weapon. Also the industrial effort that would be required far exceeded what Japan was capable of. Then, too, discussions with our atomic physicists at Berkeley, who knew the leading Japanese atomic physicists personally, led us to the conclusion that their qualified people were altogether too few in number for them to produce an effective weapon in the foreseeable future. Finally, it would have been extremely difficult for us to secure and to get out of Japan any information of the type we needed.

[…]

Positive support for our reasoning that the Germans were vitally interested in atomic energy had come from Norway, where before the war, in the town of Rjukan, about seventy-five miles west of Oslo, the Norwegians had constructed a complex of hydroelectric and electrochemical plants. When the Nazis occupied the country in 1940, they had required the operators of the Rjukan works to enter into contracts to produce heavy water which was to be shipped to Berlin for experimental use in the development of atomic energy. In September of 1942 we had estimated that approximately 120 kilograms of heavy water were being delivered to the Nazis each month under the terms of this contract.

[…]

The first attempt to put these works out of commission involved the use of guerrilla forces. Some five months after my request, three Norwegians, especially trained in sabotage techniques, and wearing British uniforms, parachuted into Norway, where they were met by local guerrillas. After nearly a week of hard cross-country skiing, they arrived at Rjukan and attacked the factories there on February 27, 1943.

The first reports on this action were most encouraging. A news dispatch from Oslo, which was relayed to Stockholm, stated that damage was “not extensive except at the place where the attempt was made and there the devastation was total.” Subsequent reports from Sweden were even more encouraging, calling this “one of the most important and successful undertakings the Allied saboteurs have carried out as yet during the war.”

These same Swedish newspapers caused me some headaches when they went on to speculate at considerable length about the importance of heavy water, pointing out that “many scientists have pinned their hopes of producing the ‘secret weapon’ upon heavy water, namely an explosive of hitherto unheard-of-violence.” These items were picked up by the London papers and finally, on April 4, 1943, New York readers were greeted by such headlines as “Nazi ‘Heavy Water’ Looms as Weapon.” Immediately, Dr. Harold Urey, who had discovered heavy water, was deluged with calls from reporters wanting more information. He neatly sidestepped all such inquiries with the statement that “So far as I know, heavy water’s uses are confined solely to experimental biology. I have never heard of an industrial application for heavy water, and know of no way it can be used for explosives.”

Meanwhile, the British were hard at work assessing the damage done to the Rjukan works in the February raid. Their first estimates indicated that heavy-water production had been set back by about two years. We had different information, but our suspicions were not confirmed until we learned definitely that the plant had resumed partial operations in April. Yet doubt can be contagious and, under our gentle prodding, Sir John Dill soon felt himself compelled to inform General Marshall that a more realistic appraisal of the damage indicated that the plant could be completely restored in about twelve months. After some discussion of launching another commando raid—a full-scale one this time—General Marshall, at my behest, proposed to Sir John Dill that, instead, the plants be made a first priority bombing objective. This proposal led ultimately to a massive air attack on Rjukan in November of 1943. Although this mission in itself was not particularly destructive, it apparently led the Germans to believe that more attacks would follow. This belief, together with the problem of constant sabotage by workers in the plants, and probably a lack of appreciation at high government levels of the possible value of the product, caused the Nazis to give up their attempts to repair the damage done by the saboteurs in February. All apparatus, catalyzers and concentrates used in the production of heavy water were ordered shipped to Berlin. Norwegian guerrillas interfered with every step of the transfer, successfully destroying much valuable equipment and even going so far as to sink the ferry which carried a large part of the heavy water.

These people were accustomed to making their views known to similar committees

Wednesday, December 3rd, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesGeneral Groves was advised, he explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), that he could improve his working relationship with the Los Alamos scientists if he appointed a committee to review their work:

[Dr. James B. Conant] pointed out that these people were accustomed to making their views known to similar committees appointed by their university administrations, and that our adoption of this system would meet with their approbation. A further advantage which we both recognized was that a review committee, with its fresh outlook, might be able to make a suggestion that would be eagerly seized upon, whereas if the same suggestion came from me, it might be regarded as interference.

Personally, I never found the idea of a committee particularly obnoxious so long as I recalled the opinion of a very wise and successful Chief of Engineers, General Jadwin. When some of his subordinates intimated to him that there was no need to appoint a board of consultants on the Mississippi River, since its members would have neither the knowledge nor the background in this field possessed by many officers of the Corps of Engineers, Jadwin replied: “I have no objection to committees as long as I appoint them.”

[…]

Out of the Review Committee’s work came one important technical contribution when Rose pointed out, in connection with the Thin Man, that the durability of the gun was quite immaterial to success, since it would be destroyed in the explosion anyway. Self-evident as this seemed once it was mentioned, it had not previously occurred to us. Now we could make drastic reductions in our estimates of the Thin Man’s size and weight. Because the gun-type bomb thus became militarily practical at an early date, work on it could go ahead on an orderly and not too hurried basis.

His arrival was announced by a frantic guard

Monday, December 1st, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesWilliam S. Parsons was the first Navy officer to be assigned to Los Alamos, General Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), and he appeared at the gate wearing his Navy summer uniform:

His arrival was announced by a frantic guard, who telephoned his sergeant: “Sergeant, we’ve really caught a spy! A guy is down here trying to get in, and his uniform is as phony as a three dollar bill. He’s wearing the eagles of a colonel, and claims that he’s a captain.”