Is a $20,000 FPV a viable weapon?

Wednesday, October 23rd, 2024

The Bolt-M from Anduril is, David Hambling explains, a high-end American take on the hordes of FPV kamikaze drones deployed by Ukraine and Russia:

In Ukraine, such drones are often assembled at kitchen tables from commercial components from China. Though unsophisticated, they are efficient engines of destruction, and at around $500 apiece are destroying tanks, artillery, trucks and foxholes at a high rate.

[…]

While FPV operators need sharp reflexes and weeks of training and practice, Bolt-M removes the need for a skilled operator with a point-and-click interface to select the target. An AI pilot does all the work. (You could argue whether it even counts as FPV). Once locked on, Bolt-M will continue automatically to the target even if communications are lost, giving it a high degree of immunity to electronic warfare.

[…]

An Anduril spokesman told Breaking Defense that “In round numbers, typical Bolt configurations are in the low tens of thousands of dollars,” depending on the exact payload and configuration.

Is a $20,000 FPV a viable weapon?

[…]

Ukrainian journal Defence Express was quick to criticize the Bolt-M, stating that, like other American designs, it fails to incorporate the key lesson of FPV warfare “they are, first of all, cheap and produced at scale.” Instead they suggest the design might be adapted into a reusable, AI-enabled light bomber for conditions of intense jamming.

Soon they will be dropping bombs on us from space like kids dropping rocks onto cars from Freeway overpasses

Sunday, October 20th, 2024

Area 51 by Annie JacobsenBefore he became president of the United States, Annie Jacobsen explains (in Area 51), Lyndon Baines Johnson liked to ride through rural Texas in his convertible Lincoln Continental with the top down:

According to his biographer Randall B. Woods, Johnson also liked to keep a loaded shotgun in the seat next to him, which allowed him to pull over and shoot deer easily. On the night of October 4, 1957, the then senator was entertaining a group of fellow hunting enthusiasts at his rural retreat, in the dining room of his forty-foot-tall, glass-enclosed, air-conditioned hunting blind that Johnson called his “deer tower.” All around the edge of the lair were powerful spotlights that could be turned on with the flip of a switch, blinding unsuspecting deer that had come to graze and making it easier to kill them.

It was an important night for Johnson, one that would set the rest of his life on a certain path. October 4, 1957, was the night the Russians launched Sputnik, and the senator began an exuberant anti-Communist crusade. That very night, once the guests had gone home and the staff of black waiters had cleaned up, Johnson retired to his bedroom with newfound conviction. “I’ll be dammed if I sleep by the light of a Red Moon,” he told his wife, Lady Bird.

[…]

“Soon they will be dropping bombs on us from space like kids dropping rocks onto cars from Freeway overpasses.”

[…]

The orb was seen as ominous and foreboding, a visual portent of more bad things to come from the skies, with 4 percent of Americans claiming to have seen Sputnik with their own eyes. In reality, explained historian Matthew Brzezinski, “What most actually saw was the one-hundred-foot-long R-7 rocket casing that [Sputnik’s designer Sergei] Korolev had craftily outfitted with reflective prisms. It trailed some 600 miles behind the twenty-two-inch satellite,” which in reality could only be seen by a person using a high-powered optical device.

[…]

Johnson loved the idea of the Agency’s secret spy plane, but not for the reasons anyone expected. Johnson seized on one detail in particular: the aircraft’s speed. At the time, the world was under the impression that the Russians held the record for airspeed, which was 1,665 miles per hour. When Johnson learned the men at Area 51 had repeatedly beaten that record, he wanted to make that fact publicly known. What better way to begin a presidency than by one-upping the Russians?

[…]

Through a veil of half-truths, he would out the Air Force’s interceptor version of the Oxcart, the YF-12, as the speed-breaker. The YF-12 would be given a false cover, the fictitious name A-11. Respecting McCone’s national security concerns, the actual A-12 Oxcart program — its true speed, operational ceiling, and near invisibility to radar — would remain classified top secret until the CIA declassified the Oxcart program, in 2007.

Three months later, on February 29, 1964, Johnson held a press conference in the International Treaty Room at the State Department. “The world record for aircraft speed, currently held by the Soviets, has been repeatedly broken in secrecy by the… A-11,” President Johnson declared from the podium, thrilled to give the Russians a poke in the ribs.

[…]

Two YF-12s belonging to the Air Force but being tested at Area 51 were quickly flown in from Groom Lake and driven into a special hangar at Edwards. The airplanes’ titanium surfaces were so hot they set off the hangar’s sprinkler system, which mistook the high-temperature metal for a fire. When the press junket began, the aircraft were still dripping wet. Never mind; no one noticed.

Even SpaceX looks like small potatoes next to an industry like global logistics

Saturday, October 19th, 2024

Cargo airships could be big, Eli Dourado notes, because the performance of an airship gets better as it gets bigger:

If your airship performance isn’t good enough, just double it in size. The lift will increase by a factor of 8, the drag will increase by a factor of 4, and the lift-to-drag ratio will therefore double. Still not good enough? Do it again.

To do cargo airships right, we need to make the biggest flying objects ever created. A modern cargo airship would make the Hindenburg puny by comparison.

[…]

According to the Bureau of Transportation Statistics, average revenue per domestic ton-km is about 83¢ for air freight, 11¢ for trucks, and 2¢ for water transportation (in spite of the Jones Act).

[…]

What we observe under these conditions is that, domestically, most of both the tonnage and value of cargo is transported via truck. Trucks are neither the fastest nor the cheapest mode of transport, but they provide a great value proposition—you get your stuff in a few days for much cheaper than air freight.

[…]

Let’s say airships captured half of the 13 trillion ton-km currently served by container ships at a price of 10¢ per ton-km. That would equal $650 billion in annual revenue for cargo airships, notably much bigger than the $106 billion Boeing reports for the entire global air freight market. If one company owned the cargo airship market, taking only half of only the container market, it would be the biggest company in the world by revenue.

[…]

If each airship can carry 500 tons, cruises at 90 km/h, and is utilized two-thirds of the time, that adds up to around 260 million ton-km per year per airship. To produce 6.5 trillion ton-km per year would require 25,000 such airships. This is about the number of airliners in the world today.

[…]

When I initially started thinking about cargo airships, I thought it would make sense to take a cue from Hindenburg, which cruised at 125 km/h. As I will discuss below, maybe that is still the right choice, but even at that speed, you are on the wrong side of some unpleasant math.

The power needed to drive an airship is proportional to velocity cubed. Because the mission takes less time when the ship is moving faster, the total mission fuel required is proportional only to velocity squared. The net effect is that transport efficiency decreases quadratically with cruise speed.

[…]

Cargo airships would probably be among the easiest vehicles to make unmanned. The sky is big and empty, but it’s especially empty over the ocean at the lowish altitudes, below airliners’ Class A airspace, where airships would fly.

[…]

The USGS estimates the private sector price of helium to be $7.57/m³, while hydrogen is sometimes available for $0.11/m³. It would cost almost $8 million to fill our 500-ton airship with helium, and just over $100k to fill it with hydrogen. Lifting gas doesn’t get used up the same way as fuel does, but through leaks and venting, it wouldn’t be just a one-time charge. Hydrogen is cheap enough that you can design to vent it to help keep the ship trim.

[…]

The USGS estimates that the entire planet has helium reserves of around 40 billion m³. Global helium production is only around 160 million m³ per year, enough for about 141 airships.

[…]

Ideally, airship fuel would be neutrally buoyant, the same density as the surrounding air. This would ensure that as the fuel burned off throughout the journey, there would be no need to vent lifting gas. You could do this by using as fuel a mixture of the slightly heavier-than-air propane (C?H?) and the slightly lighter-than-air ethane (C?H?).

[…]

With real-time wind data, it should be possible to plan a route that uses winds to minimize fuel burn and increase overall performance. It would be bringing a form of sailing back, only using tons of atmospheric data and autonomous route planning to do it in modern style.

[…]

We’ve been assuming a cargo airship can do 260 million ton-km/year at 10¢/ton-km for annual revenue of $26 million/airship. The fuel cost of doing 260 million ton-km would be around $4 million, leaving $22 million/year for other costs including insurance, capex amortization, ground support, maintenance, and profit. This depends on a lot of assumptions, but if you can build the airship at rate production at a cost around $100 million, the math is getting close to working.

[…]

In my experience, once you start thinking about giant cargo airships, it’s hard to stop.

Indeed, he kept thinking about airships:

You can cross the Pacific in a plane in less than a day. You can pay for parcel service that will get you your package in 2 to 3 days. But for air freight service, end-to-end delivery takes a week or more, involving multiple parties: in addition to the air carrier and freight forwarder, at both the origin and destination, there is a trucking company, a warehouse, a customs broker, and an airport. Each touchpoint adds cost, delay, and the risk of theft or breakage.

Once you account for all these delays and costs, the 4 to 5 days it takes to cross the Pacific on an airship starts to look pretty good. If you can pick up goods directly from a customer on one side and deliver them directly to a customer on the other, you can actually beat today’s air freight service on delivery time.

This changes everything. Since airships are, after all, competitive with 747s on delivery time, you can earn the full revenue associated with air freight, not just the lower trucking rates I had assumed. Cargo airship margins, therefore, can be much higher than I had realized.

Today’s 747 freighters have almost no margin. They operate in an almost perfectly competitive market and are highly sensitive to fuel costs. They simply won’t be able to compete with transpacific airships that are faster end to end, less subject to volatile fuel prices, and operating with cushy margins. A cargo airship designed to compete head to head in the air freight market could take the lion’s share of the revenue in the air cargo market while being highly profitable.

[…]

Many software investors eschew hard tech startups because of their capital intensity, but it’s hard to deny that huge returns are possible in hard tech: just consider SpaceX. Bring me another SpaceX! the reluctant investors might say.

But even SpaceX looks like small potatoes next to an industry like global logistics. For a Falcon 9-sized investment, instead of revolutionizing a $2 billion/year (10 years ago) commercial launch market, you could transform a market that is at least 30 times bigger, with similar unit economics to SpaceX

The Armenians basked in the glories of their past victories and prepared for a repeat of the first war

Thursday, October 17th, 2024

Seven Seconds to Die by John AntalAfter reading John Antal‘s Infantry Combat: The Rifle Platoon: An Interactive Exercise in Small-Unit Tactics and Leadership (based on Kulak’s review), I read his Seven Seconds to Die, about the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War, the first war in history won primarily by robotic systems:

In 44 days, Azerbaijan conducted a multidimensional military campaign that ended in an indisputable military victory against a near equally matched foe holding defensive positions in mountainous terrain.

[…]

The title of this book, Seven Seconds to Die, was derived from a comment made by an anonymous Armenian soldier who said that, when they heard the enemy’s Israeli-made Harop loitering munitions flying overhead, they had seven seconds to run or die.

[…]

Throughout the battlespace, Armenian tanks, air defense systems, artillery, command posts, and soldiers were hit and destroyed by top-attack munitions, many of them autonomous. For the Armenians, whose air defense was either destroyed or ineffective, there was no way to stop the attackers. It did not matter if their positions were camouflaged or not. It did not matter if they were moving or stationary, or whether it was day or night. When they rushed inside their bunkers for protection, the loitering munitions would follow them into the entrance and explode. There was no rest and no safe places.

[…]

From 2010–2020, Azerbaijan spent US $ 24–42 billion to prepare its armed forces. The investments were targeted to create asymmetric advantages for Azerbaijan — command and control systems, unmanned precision strike forces, long-range artillery, layered air defense systems (many purchased from Israel and Turkey), and cyber and information war capabilities. In the Russian tradition, the Azerbaijanis stressed long-range artillery fires and tanks, but they also adopted new precision weaponry such as the Israeli-made Harop loitering munition (LM) and the Turkish-made TB2 unmanned combat aerial vehicle. They emphasized the training and leadership of their special forces, expecting these units to bear the brunt of close combat with the Armenians.

[…]

Most importantly, the Azerbaijanis relied on Turkey to help them plan and prepare for the pre-emptive war they were waiting to unleash. The Turks were very happy to oblige.

After the First Nagorno-Karabakh War, the Armenians basked in the glories of their past victories and prepared for a repeat of the first war. They spent a valuable portion of their defense budget, and money from donations they received from the large Armenian diaspora, to improve fixed defensive positions, trench lines and bunkers along the Line of Contact with Azerbaijan. These defensive works became known as the Bagramyan and Ohanyan lines. Elaborate trench lines, sited on high ground overlooking the valleys where Azerbaijani attackers would have to ascend, gave the Armenians a solid sense of security.

[…]

In September, the Azerbaijanis were ready to execute their plan, codenamed “Operation Iron Fist,” and began mobilization weeks before the outbreak of hostilities. The Armenians, confident in their mountain defenses, did not mobilize early. Artsrun Hovhannisyan, Press Secretary of the Armenian Ministry of Defense, boasted a few days before the war: “If Azerbaijan starts a war, Armenian tanks will go as far as Baku.” By late September, the stage was set.

[…]

Former Secretary of the Artsakh Security Council (2020), and former Commander of the Defense Army (1993–99), Samvel A. Babayan talked about his experience on the first day of the war and described it as an unmitigated disaster.

On the morning of September 27, the Armenian side lost 50% of its anti-aircraft forces and 40% of its artillery in 15 minutes. The enemy had satellites looking at us. It happened in 15-20 minutes. If the Armenian side loses 40% of the artillery and 50% of the anti-aircraft, it is a big disaster.

Although Armenia had 26 years since the end of the First Nagorno-Karabakh War to prepare for this day, it was not ready. The elaborate trench lines and bunkers, that may have been well-suited to win the First War, were not camouflaged, prepared or properly defended for the new systems the Armenians would face in the Second War. As events developed, it is doubtful any trench lines without layered and resilient air defense coverage, no matter how well camouflaged, would have made a difference. “Armenia has an army of the 20th century,” reported Sergey Sovetkin, Russian military analyst for Russian Military Review on October 2, 2020, “while Azerbaijan has elements of the 21st century. Hence the difference in battle tactics.”

[…]

The concept was to blind the Armenian defense network, disintegrate the network, then take apart the other systems. To do this the Azerbaijanis were counting primarily on their flying robotic combat systems — unmanned combat aerial vehicles (UCAVs), loitering munitions, and intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR) unmanned aerial systems. Whenever possible, artillery and rocket forces would attack Armenian systems identified by the drones. The first step was to deceive and overwhelm the Armenian Soviet-era air defense radars and missile systems, by using decoys and electronic jamming, and then destroy key targets using Turkish and Israeli-made UASs for ISR, and UCAVs and LMs for ISR and strike.

[…]

To determine where the main air defense strength of the Armenians was located, Azerbaijan set in motion a sophisticated deception operation. Earlier in 2020, it had purchased 60 1940s-designed, Antonov An-2 biplanes (codenamed “Colt” by the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, NATO). The seller, Russia, was more than happy to sell these ancient aircraft for a good price, not understanding or caring about their intended use. Azerbaijan, most likely with help from the Turks, repurposed these aircraft as unmanned, remotely piloted vehicles (RPVs). They then filled each aircraft with explosives. In the opening phase of the conflict, the Colts were flown against the Armenian air defenses. Flying at a medium altitude so radar would be sure to pick them up, the Armenian air defense network turned on, identified, and then destroyed several of the incoming aircraft.

As the Armenians were congratulating themselves over this victory, the air defense systems that had engaged the incoming RPVs were identified by Azerbaijani ISR UASs and then hit by precision fire attacks from groups of UCAVS and Harop and Orbiter LMs.

[…]

By the second week of the war, the Armenians were reduced to mostly shoulder-fired man portable air defense systems. Azerbaijan won air supremacy in the first few days of the war and now their UASs, UCAVs, and LMs could fly unmolested across the strike zone to hunt Armenian systems.

[…]

Turkey possesses a robust synthetic aperture radar (SAR) and ground moving target indicator radar capability. During the war, Turkish drones, aircraft and satellites provided Azerbaijan with enhanced situation awareness and real-time targeting information, covering any gaps in its coverage of the battlespace. Since Turkey is just to the west of Nagorno-Karabakh, Turkish manned and unmanned systems, flying safely in Turkish airspace, could employ their SAR systems to identify and report the location of Armenian forces. These SAR systems are in aircraft that can operate day and night in all weather conditions.

[…]

Once the EW and artillery were destroyed, the ability of Armenian infantry and tank units to conduct local counterattacks was severely limited. Once the tanks and BMPs were removed, the infantry could only stand in their trenches and hope to repel an Azerbaijani ground assault. When drone strikes hit trucks and wheeled vehicles hauling supplies and reinforcements, the entire defense weakened. When the drones started hunting troops, Armenian morale began to shatter.

[…]

Armenia had not invested in the same class of sensor and strike drones as Azerbaijan. As a result, the high-definition videos produced by these drones, and used by Azerbaijani and Turkish information warfare teams, had a dramatic effect on the Armenian home front. Mothers closely scanned dozens of strike videos on social media, hoping their sons were not in one. Never before in the history of warfare has an information war campaign had such immediate and dramatic high-quality video footage.

The glow was red, like the inside of a red hot furnace

Sunday, October 13th, 2024

Area 51 by Annie JacobsenWhen it came time to detonate the world’s first full-scale thermonuclear device, Annie Jacobsen explains (in Area 51), it was decided that six human pilots, all volunteers, would fly straight into the center of the radioactive stem and mushroom cloud:

Another group of pilots was assigned to fly along the outer edges of the predicted fallout zones. That group included Hervey Stockman, who, four years later, would become the first CIA pilot to fly over the Soviet Union in a U-2.

[…]

Given the extraordinary magnitude of the thermonuclear bomb, it is utterly remarkable to consider that shortly after Robinson flew his F-84G straight through its mushroom stem, he was able to radio back clear thoughts to his commanding officer, who was located twenty-five miles to the south, on Eniwetok. “The glow was red, like the inside of a red hot furnace,” the record states Robinson said. He then described how his radio instrument meters were spinning around in circles, “like the sweep second hand on a watch.” After going inside the cloud a second time, Robinson reported that his “airplane stalled out and gone [sic] into a spin.” His autopilot disengaged and his radio cut out, but the courageous pilot flew on as instructed. He flew around in circles and finally he flew back into and out of the mushroom stem and the lower part of its cloud—for nearly four more hours. Only when it was time for Robinson to refuel did he realize that the electromagnetic pulse from the thermonuclear bomb had ruined his control beacon. This meant that it was impossible for him to locate the fuel tanker.

Robinson radioed the control tower on Eniwetok for help. He was told to head back to the island immediately. “Approximately ninety-six miles north of the island, [Robinson] reported that he’d picked up a signal on Eniwetok,” according to the official record, declassified in 1986 but with Robinson’s name redacted. At that point, he was down to six hundred pounds of fuel. Bad weather kicked in; “rain squalls obstructed his views.” Robinson’s fuel gauge registered empty and then his engine flamed out. “When he was at 10,000 feet, Eniwetok tower thought he would make the runway, he had the island in sight,” wrote an Air Force investigator assigned to the case. But he couldn’t glide in because his aircraft was lined with lead to shield him from radiation. At five thousand feet and falling fast, Robinson reported he wasn’t going to make it and that he would have to bail out. Now Robinson faced the ultimate challenge. Atomic-sampling pilots wore lead-lined vests. How to land safely and get out fast? Fewer than three and a half miles from the tarmac at Eniwetok, at an altitude of between five hundred and eight hundred feet, Robinson’s aircraft flipped over and crashed into the sea. “Approximately one minute later [a] helicopter was over the spot,” the Air Force investigator wrote. But it was too late. All the helicopter pilot could find was “an oil slick, one glove, and several maps.” Robinson’s body and his airplane sank to the bottom of the sea like a stone. His body was never recovered, and his family would learn of his fate only in 2008, after repeated Freedom of Information Act requests were finally granted by the Air Force.

Back on Elugelab Island, the dust was settling after the airplane-hangar-size Mike bomb had exploded with an unfathomable yield of 10.4 megatons—nearly twice that of its predicted size. Elugelab was not an island anymore. The thermonuclear bomb had vaporized the entire landmass, sending eighty million tons of pulverized coral into the upper atmosphere to float around and rain down. One man observing the bomb with high-density goggles was EG& G weapons test engineer Al O’Donnell. He’d wired, armed, and fired the Ivy bomb from the control room on the USS Estes, which was parked forty miles out at sea. O’Donnell says that watching the Mike bomb explode was a terrifying experience. “It was one of the ones that was too big,” says the man who colleagues called the Triggerman for having wired 186 nuclear bombs. The nuclear fireball of the Ivy Mike bomb was three miles wide. In contrast, the bomb dropped on Hiroshima had a fireball that was a tenth of a mile wide. When the manned airplanes flew over ground zero after the Ivy Mike bomb went off, they were horrified to see the island was gone. Satellite photographs in 2011 show a black crater filled with lagoon water where the island of Elugelab once existed.

These controllers are inherently familiar to the next generation of potential warfighters before they ever even sign up to serve

Wednesday, October 9th, 2024

American troops will direct future war machines with familiar controllers:

Over the past several years, the US Defense Department has been gradually integrating what appear to be variants of the Freedom of Movement Control Unit (FMCU) handsets as the primary control units for a variety of advanced weapons systems, according to publicly available imagery published to the department’s Defense Visual Information Distribution System media hub.

Freedom of Movement Control Unit (FMCU)

Produced since 2008 by Measurement Systems Inc. (MSI), a subsidiary of British defense contractor Ultra that specializes in human-machine interfaces, the FMCU offers a similar form factor to the standard Xbox or PlayStation controller but with a ruggedized design intended to safeguard its sensitive electronics against whatever hostile environs American service members may find themselves in. A longtime developer of joysticks used on various US naval systems and aircraft, MSI has served as a subcontractor to major defense “primes” like General Atomics, Boeing, Lockheed Martin, and BAE Systems to provide the handheld control units for “various aircraft and vehicle programs,” according to information compiled by federal contracting software GovTribe.

[…]

The endlessly customizable FMCU isn’t totally new technology: According to Ultra, the system has been in use since at least 2010 to operate the now-sundowned Navy’s MQ-8 Fire Scout unmanned autonomous helicopter and the Ground Based Operational Surveillance System (GBOSS) that the Army and Marine Corps have both employed throughout the global war on terror. But the recent proliferation of the handset across sophisticated new weapon platforms reflects a growing trend in the US military towards controls that aren’t just uniquely tactile or ergonomic in their operation, but inherently familiar to the next generation of potential warfighters before they ever even sign up to serve.

Those numbers sound big — but they were insufficient to keep up with demand

Tuesday, October 1st, 2024

As recently as 2010, a small town in central Michigan was the world’s biggest producer of solar polysilicon, but now more than 90% comes from China:

Washington blames China’s dominance of the solar industry on what are routinely dubbed “unfair trade practices.” But that’s just a comforting myth. China’s edge doesn’t come from a conspiratorial plot hatched by an authoritarian government. It hasn’t been driven by state-owned manufacturers, subsidized loans to factories, tariffs on imported modules or theft of foreign technological expertise. Instead, it’s come from private businesses convinced of a bright future, investing aggressively and luring global talent to a booming industry — exactly the entrepreneurial mix that made the US an industrial powerhouse.

[…]

Hemlock Semiconductor Corp. produces about one-third of the world’s chip-grade polysilicon, which finds its way into almost every electronic device on the planet. Solar polysilicon is simply the poor cousin of the stuff computer chips are made from: While impurities of one part in 100 million are considered acceptable for solar panels, microprocessors need to be pure to as much as one part in 10 trillion.

[…]

Dow had established itself in the 1890s in nearby Midland to take advantage of rich underground deposits of brine that could be refined into useful chemicals. The trains rattling back and forth there upset the delicate polysilicon purification process, so a new plant was established on isolated farmland in Hemlock, 14 miles (22.5 kilometers) to the south.

[…]

Things started to change around the year 2000, as rising concerns about climate change coincided with a surge in oil prices and the prospect of subsidies for renewables. Solar panels were traditionally so costly they were only used for highly specialized applications such as space probes, as well as watches and pocket calculators that only sip power. Suddenly in the early 2000s, solar started to look like a competitive way of producing energy.

As a result, PV-grade polysilicon — made until then from material rejected by chipmakers — seemed like it might become a valuable commodity in its own right. Almost overnight, it went from a backwater to a boom industry. The growth has yet to stop. Since 2005, annual installations of solar panels have increased at an average annual rate of about 44%. This year, the capacity of new modules installed globally every three days is roughly equivalent to what existed in the entire world at the end of 2005.

Hemlock initially surfed this wave. In 2005, it announced a $400 million to $500 million plan to increase production at the plant by half. Eighteen months later, it promised $1 billion more to add a further 90%. One more billion was announced amid the 2008 financial crisis, along with yet another $1.2 billion for a separate plant in Clarksville, Tennessee.

Those numbers sound big — but they were insufficient to keep up with demand.

There are a few reasons for that. First, Hemlock was owned by a joint venture between two American and two Japanese chemical companies, which between them produce everything from fiber optic cables to smartphone glass, plastics to insecticides, pill casings to machine tools and gold bullion. Such setups are notorious for complexity, which can undermine their ability to adapt quickly to changing conditions. Any fresh spending needed to get signed off by four corporate boards, none of whom saw solar poly as a priority.

Making matters worse was the fact that, when solar power started to take off in the late 1990s, Hemlock’s main shareholder Dow Corning was in the middle of a decade of bankruptcy protection — the result of lawsuits from women who claimed to have been harmed by its silicone breast implants.

Another factor was energy. As much of 40% of the cost of producing polysilicon is power, and the Hemlock factory is the biggest single-site consumer of electricity in Michigan — a remarkable statistic, when you consider the state also includes the immense General Motors Co. and Ford Motor Co. factories in Detroit.

Local electricity costs are relatively high. The 2008 expansion in Hemlock only went ahead after the state’s governor Jennifer Granholm — now President Biden’s secretary of energy — signed a bill giving the facility tax credits to protect it from electricity price hikes.

Somehow, both men managed to eject

Sunday, September 29th, 2024

Area 51 by Annie JacobsenThe D-21 drone used a ramjet, just like its Oxcart mothership, Annie Jacobsen explains (in Area 51), and needed to be launched at supersonic speed:

For public safety reasons, the plan was to launch the triplesonic drone off the coast of California in March of 1966 for the first test, and to prepare his pilots, Colonel Slater had them swim laps each day in the Area 51 pool, first in bathing suits and then with their pressure suits on. “We’d hoist the guys up over the water in a pulley and then drop them in the pool. As soon as they hit the water the first time, the pressure suit inflated, so we had to have that fixed,” Slater recalls. When it came time to practice an actual landing in a large body of water, the Agency’s highest-ranking officer on base, Werner Weiss, got the Coast Guard to seal off a large section of Lake Mead, the largest reservoir of water in the United States, located just east of Las Vegas.

[…]

Both aircraft flew west until they were a hundred and fifty miles off the coast of California. There, the M-21, piloted by Bill Park, prepared for the D-21 launch. A camera in Slater’s airplane would capture the launch on 16-millimeter film. Down below, on the dark ocean surface, a rescue boat waited. Park hit Ignite, and the drone launched up and off the M-21. But during separation, the drone pitched down instead of up and instantly split the mother aircraft in half. Miraculously, the drone hit neither Park nor Torick, who were both trapped inside.

The crippled aircraft began to tumble through the sky, falling for nearly ten thousand feet. Somehow, both men managed to eject. Alive and now outside the crashing, burning airplane, both men were safely tethered to their parachutes. Remarkably, neither of the men was hit by the burning debris falling through the air. Both men made successful water landings. But, as Slater recalls, an unforeseen tragedy occurred. “Our rescue boat located Bill Park, who was fine. But by the time the boat got to Ray Torick, he was tied up in his lanyard and had drowned.”

Kelly Johnson was devastated. “He impulsively and emotionally decided to cancel the entire program and give back the development funding to the Air Force and the Agency,” Johnson’s deputy Ben Rich recalled in his 1994 memoir about the Lockheed Skunk Works. Rich asked Johnson why. “I will not risk any more test pilots or Blackbirds. I don’t have either to spare,” Johnson said. But the Air Force did not let the Mach 3 drone program go away so quickly. They created a new program to launch the drone from underneath a B-52 bomber, which was part of Strategic Air Command. President Johnson’s deputy secretary of defense, Cyrus Vance, told Kelly Johnson, “We need this program to work because our government will never again allow a Francis Gary Powers situation develop. All our overflights over denied territory will either be with satellites or drones.”

Three years later, in 1969, the D-21 drone finally made its first reconnaissance mission, over China, launched off a B-52. The drone flew into China and over the Lop Nur nuclear facility but had then somehow strayed off course into Soviet Siberia, run out of fuel, and crashed. The suggestion was that the drone’s guidance system had failed on the way home, and it was never seen or heard from again. At least, not for more than twenty years. In the early 1990s, a CIA officer showed up in Ben Rich’s office at Skunk Works with a mysterious present for him. “Ben, do you recognize this?” the man asked Rich as he handed him a hunk of titanium. “Sure I do,” Rich said. What Ben Rich was holding in his hand was a piece of composite material loaded with the radar-absorbing coating that Lovick and his team had first developed for Lockheed four decades before. Asked where he got it, the CIA officer explained that it had been a gift to the CIA from a KGB agent in Moscow. The agent had gotten it from a shepherd in Siberia, who’d found it in the Siberian tundra while herding his sheep. According to Rich, “The Russians mistakenly believed that this generation-old panel signified our current stealth technology. It was, in a way, a very nice tribute to our work on Tagboard.”

The advantages of the optical link over the usual radio link are its speed, discretion and independence from regulations that coordinate the use of radio waves

Wednesday, September 25th, 2024

France’s Defense Innovation Agency (AID) and Cailabs have established high-speed optical satellite communications between a nano-satellite in low orbit and a commercial optical ground station:

The Cailabs ground station “is a white dome that measures around four metres in diameter with a large telescope that sticks out of it.” He explained that the technology lies in the way the light is treated once it’s entered the telescope.

The laser communication terminal aboard the nano-satellite, made by Unseenlabs, another small French company, also is an off-the-shelf product. These terminals “are sold by lots of companies and thanks to the US Space Development Agency, they are all required to be interoperable,” Morizur explained.

[…]

The French experiment was launched at the end of 2023 by AID with the launch of the Keraunos satellite and the aim of testing high-speed optical communications based on the innovative technology developed by Cailabs. AID provided €5.5 million ($6.1 million) to fund the Keraunos project which also involved Unseenlabs, another startup based in Rennes, western France.

The team was able to establish a stable laser link over several minutes and thereby not only track the nano-satellite flying in low Earth orbit from the optical ground station, but also receive data sent from the satellite.

In a statement, the Defense Ministry explained that “the advantages of the optical link over the usual radio link are its speed, discretion and independence from regulations that coordinate the use of radio waves. Even if this optical link can sometimes be perturbed by atmospheric turbulence, the Keraunos satellite is able to circumvent them in order to achieve optimum transmission quality.”

Thoughtful curiosity builds knowledge, and knowledge builds thoughtful curiosity

Tuesday, September 24th, 2024

AI systems are often trained through trial and error, with a reward function:

For example, you might teach a computer to learn to ride a virtual bike in a simulated 3D environment by rewarding the distance pedalled, and penalising the number of times the bike falls over.

The challenge comes when the reward function misses what the human programmers really wanted. Perhaps the AI will avoid the risk of falls by leaving the bike on the floor, or maximise distance pedalled by wobbling in a big circle or even by standing the bike upside down and cranking the pedals.

[…]

The more complex the desired behaviour, the easier it is to accidentally reward the wrong thing. But there is a clever and effective approach for training computers to solve a fairly wide range of problems: reward curiosity. More precisely, reward the computer when it encounters situations in which it finds the outcome unpredictable. Off it will go in search of something it hasn’t seen before.

Shane writes: “A curiosity-driven AI will learn to move through a video-game level so it can see new stuff, avoiding fireballs, monsters and death pits because when it gets hit by those, it sees the same boring death sequence.” Death is to be avoided not for its own sake, but because it’s terribly predictable.

All this is fascinating in its own right, and hints at why humans themselves might have evolved a sense of curiosity. But AI systems, like 13-year-old boys, can also be curious to the point of distractibility themselves. For example, ask a curiosity-driven AI to teach itself to play a Pac-Man-style game in which ghosts move randomly around a maze, and you will struggle: the AI doesn’t need to do anything to have its curiosity satisfied, because unpredictable ghosts are endlessly fascinating. Or, as Shane explains, a curiositybot will quickly learn to navigate a maze, unless one of the maze walls has a TV on it that shows a series of random images. “As soon as the AI found the TV, it was transfixed.” Much like my son. Or, for that matter, me.

This problem is sufficiently well known to AI researchers that it has a name: the “noisy TV problem”,

[…]

One solution is defensive: avoid noisy TVs.

[…]

But a second approach focuses more on the positive. As well as trying to cut out mere novelty, we should seek out things worth being curious about. This is easier than one might think, because thoughtful curiosity builds knowledge, and knowledge builds thoughtful curiosity.

[…]

The more you know, the more you will prefer something in-depth, rather than the next thumbnail recommended by YouTube.

The Black Cats flew the deadliest missions in the U-2’s history

Sunday, September 22nd, 2024

Area 51 by Annie JacobsenPreparing for Oxcart missions involved punishing survival-training operations, Annie Jacobsen explains (in Area 51), but the high-desert survival training at Area 51 felt different — and would involve psychological warfare by mock enemy Chinese:

“I crawled slowly through the brambles, bugs, and mud for about thirty minutes when, suddenly, I hit a trip wire and alarms went off. A glaring spotlight came on and ten Chinese men in uniform grabbed me and dragged me to one of their jeeps.” Collins was handcuffed, driven for a while, put into a second vehicle, and taken to so-called Chinese interrogation headquarters. There, he was stripped naked and searched. “A doctor proceeded to examine every orifice the human body has, from top to bottom—literally,” which, Collins believes, “was more to humiliate and break down my moral defenses than anything else.” Naked, he was led down a dimly lit hallway and pushed into a concrete cell furnished with a short, thin bed made of wood planks. “I had no blanket, I was naked, and it was very cold. They gave me a bucket to be used only when I was told.”

For days, Collins went through simulated torture that included sleep deprivation, humiliation, extreme temperature fluctuation, and hunger, all the while naked, cold, and under surveillance by his captors. “The cell had one thick wooded door with a hole for viewing. This opening had a metal window that would clank open and shut. A single bright light was on and when I was about to doze off, the light would flash off, which would immediately snap me out of sleep.” For food, he was given watery soup, two thin pepper pods, and two bits of mysterious meat. “I had no water to drink and I was always watched. I didn’t know day from night so there was no sense of time. The temperature varied from hot to very cold. The voice through the viewing window shouted demands.”

Soon Collins began to hallucinate. Now it was interrogation time. Naked, he was led to a small room by two armed guards. He stood in front of his Chinese interrogators, who sat behind a small desk. They grilled him about his name, rank, and why he was spying on China. The torturous routine continued for what Collins guessed was several more days. Then one day, instead of being taken to his interrogators, he was told that he was free to go.

But halfway across the world, on November 1, 1963, Ken Collins’s experience was being mirrored for real. A CIA pilot named Yeh Changti had been flying a U-2 spy mission over a nuclear facility in China when he was shot down, captured by the Chinese Communist government, and tortured. Yeh Changti was a member of the Thirty-Fifth Black Cat U-2 Squadron, a group of Taiwanese Chinese Nationalist pilots (as opposed to the Communist Chinese, who inhabited the mainland) who worked covert espionage missions for the CIA. In the 1960s, the Black Cats flew what would prove to be the deadliest missions in the U-2’s fifty-five-year history, all of which were flown out of a secret base called Taoyuan on the island of Taiwan. When the CIA declassified most of the U-2 program, in 1998, “no information was released about Yeh Changti or the Black Cats,” says former Black Cat pilot Hsichun Hua. The program, in entirety, remains classified as of 2011.

Colonel Hugh “Slip” Slater, the man who would later become the commander of Area 51, remembers Yeh Changti before he got shot down. “His code name was Terry Lee and he and I played tennis on the base at Taoyuan all the time. He was a great guy and an amazing acrobat, which helped him on the court. Sometimes we drank scotch while we played. Both the sport and the scotch helped morale.” Slater says that the reason morale was low was that “the U-2 had become so vulnerable to the SA-2 missiles that nobody wanted to fly.” One Black Cat pilot had already been shot down. But that didn’t stop the dangerous missions from going forward for the CIA.

Unlike what had happened with the Gary Powers shoot-down, the American press remained in the dark about these missions. For the CIA, getting hard intelligence on China’s nuclear facilities was a top national security priority. On the day Yeh Changti was shot down, he was returning home from a nine-hour mission over the mainland when a surface-to-air missile guidance system locked on to his U-2. Colonel Slater was on the radio with Yeh Changti when it happened. “I was talking to him when I heard him say, ‘System 12 on!’ We never heard another word.” The missile hit Yeh Changti’s aircraft and tore off the right wing. Yeh Changti ejected from the airplane, his body riddled in fifty-nine places with missile fragments. He landed safely with his parachute and passed out. When he woke up, he was in a military facility run by Mao Tse-tung.

This was no training exercise. Yeh Changti was tortured and held prisoner for nineteen years until he was quietly released by his captors, in 1982. He has been living outside Houston, Texas, ever since. The CIA did not know that Yeh Changti had survived his bailout and apparently did not make any kind of effort to locate him. A second Black Cat pilot named Major Jack Chang would also get shot down in a U-2, in 1965, and was imprisoned alongside Yeh Changti. After their release, the two pilots shared their arduous stories with fellow Black Cat pilot, Hsichun Hua, who had become a general in the Taiwanese air force while the men were in captivity. Neither Yeh Changti nor Major Jack Chang was ever given a medal by the CIA. The shoot-down of the Black Cat U-2 pilots, however, had a major impact on what the CIA and the Air Force would do next at Area 51. Suddenly, the development of drones had become a national security priority, drones being pilotless aircraft that could be flown by remote control.

Drones could accomplish what the U-2 could in terms of bringing home photographic intelligence, but a drone could do it without getting pilots captured or killed. Ideally, drones could perform missions that fell into three distinct categories: dull, dirty, and dangerous. Dull meant long flights during which pilots faced fatigue flying to remote areas of the globe. Dirty included situations where nuclear weapons or biological weapons might be involved. Dangerous meant missions over denied territories such as the Soviet Union, North Korea, and China, where shoot-downs were a political risk. Lockheed secured a contract to develop such an unmanned vehicle in late 1962. After Yeh Changti’s shoot-down, the program got a big boost. Flight-testing of the drone code-named Tagboard would take place at Area 51 and, ironically, getting the Lockheed drone to fly properly was among the first duties assigned to Colonel Slater after he left Taoyuan and was given a new assignment at Area 51.

“Lockheed’s D-21 wasn’t just any old drone, it was the world’s first Mach 3 stealth drone,” says Lockheed physicist Ed Lovick, who worked on the program. “The idea of this drone was a radical one because it would fly at least as fast, if not faster, than the A-12. It had a ram jet engine, which meant it was powered by forced air. The drone could only be launched off an aircraft that was already moving faster than the speed of sound.” The A-12 mother ship was designated M-21, M as in mother, and was modified to include a second seat for the drone launch operator, a flight engineer. The D-21 was the name for the drone, the D standing for daughter. But launching one aircraft from the back of another aircraft at speeds of more than 2,300 mph had its own set of challenges, beginning with how not to have the two aircraft crash into each other during launch. The recovery process of the drone also needed to be fine-tuned. Lovick explains, “The drone, designed to overfly China, would travel on its own flight path taking reconnaissance photographs and then head back out to sea.” The idea was to have the drone drop its photo package, which included the camera, the film, and the radio sensors, by parachute so it could be retrieved by a second aircraft nearby. Once the pallet was secure, the drone would crash into the sea and sink to the ocean floor.

The combat UGV might be the modern equivalent of the war elephant in classical armies

Friday, September 20th, 2024

The combat UGV might be the modern equivalent of the war elephant in classical armies, David Hambling notes, a strange, terrifying presence which causes enemies to flee even though it has limited military effectiveness:

A fighting robot is inherently scary. Robot dogs with weapons will be even worse, even if they are clumsier and less capable than human footsoldiers. An opponent that feels no pain or fear, and who is immune to gunfire, is not like one made of flesh and blood.

But the UGV may be much more than an effective psychological weapon. Unlike aerial drones, the UGV can threaten an enemy position. Driving up and parking a remote-controlled machinegun turret next to them means the enemy have to either destroy the UGV or retreat. This makes it something quite new, an uncrewed weapon able to take ground, and potentially to hold that ground.

At a cost of around $16,000 per unit — as much as six artillery rounds, or a tenth of a Javelin missile — the Ukrainian Lyut UGV is, he explains, entirely expendable.

Covering up the cover-up

Sunday, September 15th, 2024

Area 51 by Annie JacobsenIn the twelfth chapter of Area 51, Annie Jacobsen discusses “covering up the cover-up”:

Jim Freedman remembers the first time he brought up the subject of UFOs with his EG&G supervisor at Area 51. It was sometime in the middle of the 1960s and “UFOs were a pretty big thing,” Freedman explains. Flying saucer sightings had made their way into the news with a fervor not seen since the late 1940s. “I heard through the rumor mill that one of the UFOs had gone to Wright-Pat and was then brought to a remote area of the test site,” Freedman says. “I heard it was in Area 22. I was driving with my supervisor through the test site one day and I told him what I had heard and I asked him what he thought about that. Well, he just kept looking at the road. And then he turned to me and he said, ‘Jim, I don’t want to hear you mention anything like that, ever again, if you want to keep your job.’” Freedman made sure never to bring the subject of UFOs up again when he was at work.

In the mid-1960s, sightings of unidentified flying objects around Area 51 reached unprecedented heights as the A-12 Oxcart flying from Groom Lake was repeatedly mistaken for a UFO. Not since the U-2 had been flying from there were so many UFO reports being dumped on CIA analysts’ desks. The first instance happened only four days after Oxcart’s first official flight, on April 30, 1962. It was a little before 10:00 a.m., and a NASA X-15 rocket plane was making a test flight in the air corridor that ran from Dryden Flight Research Center, in California, to Ely, Nevada, during the same period of time when an A-12 was making a test flight in the vicinity at a different altitude. From inside the X-15 rocket plane, test pilot Joe Walker snapped photographs, a task that was part of his mission flight. The X-15 was not a classified program and NASA often released publicity photographs taken during flights, as they did with Walker’s photographs that day. But NASA had not scrutinized the photos closely before their public release, and officials missed the fact that a tiny “UFO” appeared in the corner of one of Walker’s pictures. In reality, it was the Oxcart, but the press identified it as a UFO. A popular theory among ufologists about why aliens would want to visit Earth in the first place has to do with Earthlings’ sudden advance of technologies beginning with the atomic bomb. For this group, it follows that the X-15 — the first manned vehicle to get to the edge of space (the highest X-15 flight was 354,200 feet — almost 67 miles above sea level) would be particularly interesting to beings from outer space.

Two weeks after the incident, the CIA’s new director, John McCone, received a secret, priority Teletype on the matter stating that “on 30 April, A-12 was in air at altitude of 30,000 feet from 0948-106 local with concurrent X-15 Test” and that “publicity releases mention unidentified objects on film taken on X-15 flight.” This message, which was not declassified until 2007, illustrates the kind of UFO-related reports that inundated the CIA at this time. In total, 2,850 Oxcart flights would be flown out of Area 51 over a period of six years. Exactly how many of these flights generated UFO reports is not known, but the ones that prompted UFO sightings created the same kinds of problems for the CIA as they had in the previous decade with the U-2, only with elements that were seemingly more inexplicable. With Oxcart, commercial airline pilots flying over Nevada or California would look up and see the shiny, reflective bottom of the Oxcart whizzing by high overhead at triple-sonic speeds and think, UFO. How could they not? When the Oxcart flew at 2,300 miles per hour, it was going approximately five times faster than a commercial airplane — aircraft speeds that were unheard-of in those days. Most Oxcart sightings came right after sunset, when the lower atmosphere was shadowed in dusk. Seventeen miles higher up, the sun was still shining brightly on the Oxcart. The spy plane’s broad titanium wings coupled with its triangle-shaped rear fuselage — reflecting the sun’s rays higher in the sky than aircraft were known to fly — could understandably cause alarm.

The way the CIA dealt with this new crop of sightings was similar to how it handled the U-2s’. Colonel Hugh “Slip” Slater, Area 51’ s base commander during this time, explains “commercial pilots would report sightings to the FAA. The flights would be met in California, or wherever they landed, by FBI agents who would make passengers sign inadvertent disclosure forms.” End of story, or so the CIA hoped. Instead, interest in UFOs only continued to grow. The public again put pressure on Congress to find out if the federal government was involved in covering up UFOs. When individual congressmen asked the CIA if it was involved in UFOs, the Agency would always say no.

On May 10, 1966, the most trusted man in America, Walter Cronkite, hosted a CBS news special report called UFO: Friend, Foe or Fantasy? To an audience of millions of Americans, Cronkite announced that the CIA was part of a government cover-up regarding UFOs. The CIA had been actively analyzing UFO data despite repeatedly denying to Congress that it was doing so, Cronkite said. He was absolutely correct. The Agency had been tracking UFO sightings around the world since the 1950s and actively lying about its interest in them. The CIA could not reveal the classified details of the U-2 program — the existence of which had been outed by the Gary Powers shoot-down but the greater extent of which would remain classified until 1998 — nor could it reveal anything related to the Oxcart program and those sightings. That remained top secret until 2007. In Cronkite’s exposé, the CIA looked like liars.

It got worse for the Agency. The Cronkite program also reopened a twelve-year-old can of UFO worms known as the Robertson Panel report of 1953. Dr. Robertson appeared on a CBS Reports program and disclosed that the UFO inquiry bearing his name had in fact been sponsored by the CIA beginning in 1952, despite repeated denials by officials. The House Armed Services Committee held hearings on UFOs in July of 1966, which resulted in the Air Force laying blame for the cover-up on the CIA. “The Air Force… approached the Agency for declassification,” testified secretary of the Air Force Harold Brown. Brown stated that while there was no evidence that “strangers from outer space” had been visiting Earth, it was time for the CIA to come clean on its secret studies regarding UFOs.

[…]

The year 1966 was the height of the Vietnam War, and the federal government’s ability to tell the truth was under fire. Pressure on Congress to make more information known did not let up. And so once again, as it had been in the late 1940s, the Air Force was officially “put in charge” of investigating individual UFO claims. The point of having the Air Force in charge, said Congress, was to oversee the untrustworthy CIA. One of the great ironies at work in this was that only a handful of Air Force generals were cleared for knowledge about Oxcart flights blazing in and out of Area 51, which meant that to most Air Force investigators, Oxcart sightings were in fact unidentified flying objects. Further feeding public discord, several key Air Force officials who had previously been involved in investigating UFOs now believed the Air Force was also engaged in covering up UFOs. Several of these men left government service to write books about UFOs and help the public persuade Congress to do more.

[…]

Many citizens believed the government was trying to cover up the existence of extraterrestrial beings; people did not consider the fact that by overfocusing on Martians, they would pay less attention to other UFO realities, namely, that these were sightings of radical aircraft made by men.

[…]

In 1942, when the jet engine was first being developed, the Army Air Corps desired to keep the radical new form of flight a secret until the military was ready to unveil the technology on its own terms. Before the jet engine, airplanes flew by propellers, and before 1942, for most people it was a totally foreign concept for an airplane to fly without the blades of a propeller spinning around. With the jet engine, in order to maintain silence on this technological breakthrough, the Army Air Corps entered into a rather benign strategic deception campaign involving a group of its pilots. Every time a test pilot took a Bell XP-59A jet aircraft out on a flight test over the Muroc dry lake bed in California’s Mojave Desert, the crew attached a dummy propeller to the airplane’s nose first. The Bell pilots had a swath of airspace in which to perform flight tests but every now and then a pilot training on a P-38 Lightning would cruise into the adjacent vicinity to try to get a look at the airplane. The airplane was seen trailing smoke, and eventually, rumors started to circulate at local pilot bars. Pilots wanted to know what was being hidden from them.

According to Edwards Air Force Base historian Dr. James Young, the chief XP-59A Bell test pilot, a man by the name of Jack Woolams, got an idea. He ordered a gorilla mask from a Hollywood prop house. On his next flight, Woolams removed the mock-up propeller from the nose of his jet airplane and put on the gorilla mask. When a P-38 Lightning came flying nearby for a look, Woolams maneuvered his airplane close enough so that the P-38 pilot could look inside the cockpit of the jet plane. The Lightning pilot was astonished. Instead of seeing Woolams, the pilot saw a gorilla flying an airplane — an airplane that had no propeller. The stunned pilot landed and went straight to the local bar, where he sat down and ordered a stiff drink. There, he began telling other pilots what he had definitely seen with his own eyes. His colleagues told him he was drunk, that what he was saying was an embarrassment, and that he should go home. Meanwhile, the concept of the gorilla mask caught on among other Bell XP-59A test pilots and soon Woolams’s colleagues joined the act. Over the course of the next few months, other P-38 Lightning pilots spotted the gorilla flying the propellerless airplane. Some versions of the historical record have the psychiatrist for the U.S. Army Air Corps getting involved, helping the Lightning pilots to understand how a clear-thinking fighter pilot could become disoriented at altitude and believe he had seen something that clearly was not really there. Everyone knows that a gorilla can’t fly an airplane. Whether or not the psychiatrist really did get involved — and if he did, whether he was aware of the gorilla masks — remains ambiguous to Dr. Craig Luther, a contemporary historian at Edwards Air Force Base. But for the purposes of a strategic deception campaign, the point is clear: no one wants to be mistaken for a fool.

[…]

One of the more enigmatic figures involved in the Roswell mystery was Rear Admiral Roscoe H. Hillenkoetter, the first man to run the CIA. Hillenkoetter was the director of Central Intelligence from May 1, 1947, until October 7, 1950. After his retirement from the CIA, Hillenkoetter returned to a career in the navy. Curiously, after he retired from the Navy, in the late 1950s, he served on the board of governors of a group of UFO researchers called the National Investigations Committee on Aerial Phenomena. Hillenkoetter’s placement on the board was a paradox. He was there, in part, to learn what the UFO researchers knew about unidentified flying crafts. But he also empathized with their work. While Hillenkoetter did not believe UFOs were from outer space, he knew unidentified flying objects were a serious national security concern. In his position as CIA director Hillenkoetter knew that the flying disc at Roswell had been sent by Joseph Stalin. And he knew of the Joint Chiefs of Staff’s fear that what had been achieved once could happen again. Which makes it peculiar that, in February of 1960, in a rare reveal by a former cabinet-level official, Hillenkoetter testified to Congress that he was dismayed at how the Air Force was handling UFOs. To the Senate Science and Astronautics Committee he stated that “behind the scenes, high-ranking Air Force officers are soberly concerned about UFOs. But through official secrecy and ridicule, many citizens are led to believe the unknown flying objects are nonsense.” He also claimed that “to hide the facts, the Air Force has silenced its personnel.”

Hillenkoetter remained a ranking member of the National Investigations Committee on Aerial Phenomena until 1962, when he mysteriously resigned. Equally puzzling was that the man who later replaced Hillenkoetter and became the head of the board of the National Investigations Committee on Aerial Phenomena in 1969 was Joseph Bryan III — the CIA’s first chief of political and psychological warfare. Not much is known about Bryan’s true role with the ufologists because his work at the CIA remains classified as of 2011. If his name sounds familiar, it is because Joe Bryan was the man scheduled for a hunting trip with Frank Wisner, Richard Bissell’s friend and predecessor at the CIA. But before Bryan arrived that day, on October 29, 1965, Wisner shot himself in the head.

At the CIA, during the mid-1960s, the thinking regarding UFOs began to move in a different direction. Since the birth of the modern UFO phenomenon, in June of 1947, the CIA had maintained three lines of thought on UFOs. They were (a) experimental aircraft, (b) the delusions of a paranoid person’s mind, or (c) part of a psychological warfare campaign by the Soviet Union to create panic among the people and sow seeds of governmental mistrust. But by 1966, a faction within the CIA added a fourth line of thought to its concerns: maybe UFOs were real. This new postulation came from the Agency’s monitoring of circumstances in the Soviet Union, which was also in the midst of a UFO sea change.

[…]

But curiously, in 1964, after Khrushchev’s colleagues removed him from power and installed Leonid Brezhnev in his place, articles on UFOs began to emerge. In 1966, a series of articles about UFOs were published by Novosti, Moscow’s official news agency. Two leading scientists from the Moscow Aviation Institute not only were writing about UFOs but were split on their opinions about them, which was highly unusual for Soviet state-funded scientists. One of the scientists, Villen Lyustiberg, promoted the idea that UFOs were the creation of the American government and that “the U.S. publicizes them to divert people from its failures and aggressions.” A second leading scientist, Dr. Felix Zigel, had come to believe that UFOs were in fact real.

Declassified CIA memos written during this time reveal a concern that if the leading scientists and astronomers in the Soviet Union believed UFOs were real, maybe UFOs truly were real after all. In 1968, the CIA learned that a Soviet air force general named Porfiri Stolyarov had been named the chairman of a new “UFO Section of the All-Union Cosmonautics Committee” in Moscow. After learning that Russia had an official UFO committee, the CIA went scrambling for its own science on UFOs.

Our existing arsenals of precision-guided munitions would be exhausted in a matter of days in a high-end fight

Thursday, September 12th, 2024

Anduril has unveiled its Barracuda family of cruise missiles — or “air-breathing, software-defined expendable Autonomous Air Vehicles (AAVs)” — that are optimized for “affordable, hyper-scale production”:

The United States and our allies and partners do not have enough missiles to credibly deter conflict with a near-peer adversary. Our existing arsenals of precision-guided munitions would be exhausted in a matter of days in a high-end fight. The problem extends beyond inventory alone, however: existing cruise missiles are defined by limited production capacity, nonexistent on-call surge capacity, and minimal upgradeability when technology and mission needs inevitably change. That is because existing missile designs are highly complex, require thousands of unique tools to produce, demand highly-specialized labor and materials, and are built on the backs of tenuous, brittle, and defense-specific supply chains. We need an order of magnitude more weapons, and we need them to be more producible, intelligent, upgradeable, and flexible.

The Barracuda family of AAVs is designed to rebuild America’s arsenal of air-breathing precision-guided munitions and air vehicles. Barracuda features advanced autonomous behaviors and other software-defined capabilities, and it is available in configurations offering 500+ nautical miles of range, 100+ pounds of payload capacity, 5 Gs of maneuverability, and more than 120 minutes of loitering time. The vehicle’s fast speeds, high maneuverability, and extended ranges are made possible by Barracuda’s turbojets, air-breathing engines that take in air to combust their fuel. The result is a highly intelligent, low-cost weapon system that is capable of direct, stand-in, or stand-off strike missions in line with existing requirements but rapidly adaptable to future mission needs due to its high degree of modularity and upgradeability.

Barracuda-100M, Barracuda-250M, and Barracuda-500M are the most producible cruise missiles on the market today. A single Barracuda takes 50 percent less time to produce, requires 95 percent fewer tools, and 50 percent fewer parts than competing solutions on the market today. As a result, the Barracuda family of AAVs is 30 percent cheaper on average than other solutions, enabling affordable mass and cost-effective, large-scale employment.

[…]

Barracuda can be produced by the broad commercial automotive and consumer electronics workforce, rather than relying exclusively on the much smaller, over-stretched, highly-specialized, defense-specific manufacturing labor pool required to produce existing solutions.

Every Barracuda variant is made up of a handful of common subsystems to ensure that the missiles can be rapidly optimized based on changing mission needs. New subsystems can be rapidly swapped into live production lines when threats evolve and new technologies emerge, providing warfighters with the agility required to adapt at mission speed. And unlike existing solutions that leverage brittle, defense-specific supply chains, Barracuda’s subsystems are made up of commercially derived and widely-available components that provide supply chain resiliency, redundancy, and surge capacity.

The legacy employees at Twitter didn’t know how to handle him

Tuesday, September 10th, 2024

Elon Musk by Walter IsaacsonOn December 22, 2022, Musk met with two of Twitter’s infrastructure managers, Walter Isaacson explains (in his biography of Elon), who tried to explain their problem:

The data-services company that housed one of Twitter’s server farms, located in Sacramento, had agreed to allow them some short-term extensions on their lease so they could begin to move out during 2023 in an orderly fashion. “But this morning,” the nervous manager told Musk, “they came back to us and said that plan was no longer on the table because, and these are their words, they don’t think that we will be financially viable.”

The facility was costing Twitter more than $100 million a year. Musk wanted to save that money by moving the servers to one of Twitter’s other facilities, in Portland, Oregon. Another manager at the meeting said that couldn’t be done right away. “We can’t get out safely before six to nine months,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Sacramento still needs to be around to serve traffic.”

[…]

He paused in silence for a few moments, then announced, “You have ninety days to do it. If you can’t make that work, your resignation is accepted.”

[…]

“I’ve built server centers myself, and I can tell if you could put more servers there or not. That’s why I asked if you had actually visited these facilities. If you’ve not been there, you’re just talking bullshit.”

[…]

“All you need to do is just move the fucking servers to Portland,” he said. “If it takes longer than thirty days, that would blow my mind.” He paused and recalculated. “Just get a moving company, and it will take a week to move the computers and another week to plug them in. Two weeks. That’s what should happen.” Everyone was silent. But Musk was still warming up. “If you got a goddamn U-Haul, you could probably do it by yourself.”

[…]

They were not sure how they would even get inside the data center at night, but one very surprised Twitter staffer, a guy named Alex from Uzbekistan, was still there. He merrily let them in and showed them around.

The facility, which housed rooms of servers for many other companies as well, was very secure, with a retinal scan required for entry into each of the vaults. Alex the Uzbek was able to get them into the Twitter vault, which contained about fifty-two hundred refrigerator-size racks of thirty computers each. “These things do not look that hard to move,” Elon announced. It was a reality-distorting assertion, since each rack weighed about twenty-five hundred pounds and was eight feet tall.

“You’ll have to hire a contractor to lift the floor panels,” Alex said. “They need to be lifted with suction cups.” Another set of contractors, he said, would then have to go underneath the floor panels and disconnect the electric cables and seismic rods.

Musk turned to his security guard and asked to borrow his pocket knife. Using it, he was able to lift one of the air vents in the floor, which allowed him to pry open the floor panels. He then crawled under the server floor himself, used the knife to jimmy open an electrical cabinet, pulled the server plugs, and waited to see what happened. Nothing exploded. The server was ready to be moved. “Well that doesn’t seem super hard,” he said as Alex the Uzbek and the rest of the gang stared. Musk was totally jazzed by this point. It was, he said with a loud laugh, like a remake of Mission: Impossible, Sacramento edition.

The next day — Christmas Eve — Musk called in reinforcements. Ross Nordeen drove from San Francisco. He stopped at the Apple Store in Union Square and spent $2,000 to buy out the entire stock of AirTags so the servers could be tracked on their journey, and then stopped at Home Depot, where he spent $2,500 on wrenches, bolt-cutters, headlamps, and the tools needed to unscrew the seismic bolts. Steve Davis got someone from The Boring Company to procure a semi truck and line up moving vans. Other enlistees arrived from SpaceX.

The server racks were on wheels, so the team was able to disconnect four of them and roll them to the waiting truck. This showed that all fifty-two hundred or so could probably be moved within days. “The guys are kicking ass!” Musk exulted.

Other workers at the facility watched with a mix of amazement and horror. Musk and his renegade team were rolling servers out without putting them in crates or swaddling them in protective material, then using store-bought straps to secure them in the truck. “I’ve never loaded a semi before,” James admitted. Ross called it “terrifying.” It was like cleaning out a closet, “but the stuff in it is totally critical.”

[…]

Having ruined the Christmas Eve of the NTT managers, as well as hitting them with a potential loss of more than $100 million in revenue for the coming year, Musk showed pity and said he would suspend moving the servers for two days. But they would resume, he warned, the day after Christmas.

[…]

The moving contractors that NTT wanted them to use charged $200 an hour. So James went on Yelp and found a company named Extra Care Movers that would do the work at one-tenth the cost.

[…]

The servers had user data on them, and James did not initially realize that, for privacy reasons, they were supposed to be wiped clean before being moved. “By the time we learned this, the servers had already been unplugged and rolled out, so there was no way we would roll them back, plug them in, and then wipe them,” he says. Plus, the wiping software wasn’t working. “Fuck, what do we do?” he asked. Elon recommended that they lock the trucks and track them. So James sent someone to Home Depot to buy big padlocks, and they sent the combination codes on a spreadsheet to Portland so the trucks could be opened there. “I can’t believe it worked,” James says. “They all made it to Portland safely.”

By the end of the week they had used all of the available trucks in Sacramento. Despite the area being pummeled by rain, they moved more than seven hundred of the racks in three days. The previous record at that facility had been moving thirty in a month. That still left a lot of servers in the facility, but the musketeers had proven that they could be moved quickly. The rest were handled by the Twitter infrastructure team in January.

Elon had promised James a big bonus, up to $1 million, if he got the servers moved by the end of the year. Nothing was put in writing, but James trusted his cousin. After the move, he heard from Jared Birchall that the deal applied only to the number of servers that got up and running in Portland. Because they needed new electrical connections, that was zero. James texted Elon, who came back with the proposal that he would get $1,000 for every server that arrived safely in Portland, whether or not it was plugged in. That amounted to just over $700,000. Elon also offered him a stock option package to join Twitter. James accepted both.

[…]

“In retrospect, the whole Sacramento shutdown was a mistake,” Musk would admit in March 2023. “I was told we had redundancy across our data centers. What I wasn’t told was that we had seventy thousand hard-coded references to Sacramento. And there’s still shit that’s broken because of it.”

His most valuable lieutenants at Tesla and SpaceX had learned ways to deflect his bad ideas and drip-feed him unwelcome information, but the legacy employees at Twitter didn’t know how to handle him.