To this day, most warships have little staying power

Wednesday, April 1st, 2026

Fleet Tactics and Naval OperationsThe development of Germany’s V-1 and V-2 and the US’s atom bomb led the Navy, Fleet Tactics and Naval Operations explains, to develop missiles — first Regulus and then Polaris — that could deliver warheads at very long ranges with reasonable accuracy.:

The new missiles were called “strategic” weapons because, much like strategic bombers, their purpose was to destroy an enemy’s means of waging war.

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This led to a bitter rivalry between the newly created U.S. Air Force, which claimed the mission as its own, and a recalcitrant Navy, which saw difficulties with intercontinental bombing at the time and balked at the hidden costs of maintaining bombers at fixed bases far forward in host countries.

The Navy proposed delivering nuclear bombs from carrier-based aircraft, arguing that the mobility that ships offered would enable the bombers to fly shorter distances and would be less vulnerable than land-based airfields.

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In the 1950s, with remarkable energy and technological acumen, the Navy developed and deployed Polaris missiles—and long-range submarines to carry and fire them—arguing that the undersea craft constituted a more stable and survivable deterrent than bombers and land bases because they could not be pinpointed for attack.

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Some of the early Soviet missiles were cruise missiles, fitted with nuclear warheads and designed to be fired by Russian warships—submarines, surface ships, and long-range land-based aircraft.

Their targets were to be American surface ships, particularly aircraft carriers. Since detonating even one nuclear weapon in the vicinity of a ship was certain to destroy it, staying power derived from armor, compartmentation, damage-control techniques, and large displacement would have little value.

Using antiaircraft guns in an effort to shoot down an attacker would be useless if a nuclear weapon were designed to detonate when the warhead was hit.

The U.S. Navy developed surface-to-air missiles (SAMs) to destroy a bomber or missile far enough away for the ships to be able to survive. Indeed, Talos, Terrier, and Tartar SAMs—all defensive weapons—were the Navy’s first substantial venture into guided-missile technology.

The tight defensive formations of World War II no longer were appropriate; adjacent ships would be incapacitated by the massive explosion and poisonous radiation.

Designers initially intended that SAMs would cover several ships at the same time, employing the World War II tactic of defending your neighbor while defending yourself. SAMs were expensive, however, and any one ship could only carry so many. They had to be delivered accurately because commanders could not fill the sky with them by the hundreds the way 40-mm and 20-mm shells were expended in World War II. If anything, SAM distribution against incoming aircraft or missiles had to be coordinated so that commanders could rely on an efficient system of assigning targets to individual ships.

In time the formations were loosened even more and spread out in dispersed configurations. One such was a “haystack” disposition, developed so that enemy bombers could not easily locate the vital ship—the carrier—especially where commercial shipping resulted in the generation of many radar contacts. The fleet’s prime targets were supposed to disappear like needles in a haystack.

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The modern U.S. Navy is a victim of outmoded nuclear war thinking. To this day, most warships have little staying power. One or two hits with modern missiles such as an Exocet or Harpoon will put most warships out of action.

To survive an attack and continue to perform a task, a modern American warship depends heavily on reduced susceptibility—avoiding detection and carrying the kind of technology that will enable it to prevent incoming missiles from hitting at all.

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The Vietnam War contributed to loosening up American formations because warships were able to stand off at sea to deliver ordnance while they themselves were relatively safe from attacks.

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History’s most profuse application of cruise missiles has been against tankers and other commercial ships in the Persian Gulf. The attacks started in May of 1981 and continued for seven years, until mid-1988, ending a year after U.S. intervention that provided protective escorts for ship traffic.

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French arms sales equipped Iraq well to carry out air-launched Exocet missile attacks.

Seemingly, missiles had been used between 257 and 261 times, or in about 80 percent of all Iraqi attacks on commercial ships.

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Only a quarter of the ships hit were destroyed; large tankers proved to be the sturdiest and most resilient.

The so-called Tanker War constitutes by far the biggest campaign against shipping since World War II.

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Estimates show that by 1986 the tonnage damaged beyond economic repair already had reached some 20 percent of all Allied merchant ships sunk during World War II.

Navias and Hooton estimate that less than 1 percent of the 800 to 1,000 ships that entered the Gulf each month were hit—about the same overall total as the fraction of sailings lost in the Battle of the Atlantic, although not as bad as the worst of that period, when up to 20 percent of merchant traffic was lost. 4 Also reminiscent of the Battle of the Atlantic, there was a remorseless buildup of shipping losses in the Gulf until the United States responded to pressure from the neutral states there and started to convoy reflagged Kuwaiti tankers.

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Like torpedoes, tactical missiles were conceived and developed to attack warships.

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Broadly, the carrier battle groups of the U.S. fighting fleet could not offer direct protection for tankers sailing up the Persian Gulf; only individual convoy escorts could fend off attacks by the Iranian threat, which in this instance comprised land-based aircraft and a flotilla of assorted small coastal combatants. But the security of the escorts depended upon air cover, present or prospective, from the American carriers standing outside the Strait of Hormuz.

Safe transit through the Gulf waters also depended on mine-clearance operations, carried out largely by European countries, which had joined the effort by the mid-1980s.

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The axiom that “a ship’s a fool to fight a fort” is tempered by the caveat that in order to influence events on land, navies must either circumvent or destroy the enemy’s ability to send land-based aircraft and missiles over the coastal seas.

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In the first cruise-missile attack on a ship, during the Arab-Israeli War of 1967, an Egyptian salvo of four Soviet-made Styx missiles sank the Israeli picket-destroyer Eilat. In 1970 the Egyptians conducted what was in effect a live-target test of the ability of the Styx to home on targets smaller than a destroyer; they fired four missiles and sank an Israeli fishing boat, the Orit. In the Indo-Pakistan War of 1971, India successfully employed nine Styx missiles against Pakistani warships and merchant vessels, some of which were in port.

Next came the best wartime laboratory for study of missile combat—the Arab-Israeli War of 1973. The two sides exchanged 101 Styx and Gabriel missiles in five separate battles with devastating effects on the Syrian and Egyptian flotillas and no harm whatsoever to the Israelis.

After that came the South Atlantic War of 1982, in which Argentina achieved well-publicized results with air-launched Exocets and, for the first time in combat, with land-launched missiles as well. In the same war, but less well-known, Royal Navy helicopters launched Sea Skua air-to-surface missiles at two Argentine patrol boats, sinking one and severely damaging the other.

In February 1991, during the Persian Gulf War, two Silkworm antiship cruise missiles (ASCMs) were launched from a land site in Kuwait, aimed at the USS Missouri (BB 63), which was bombarding Iraqi positions with 16-inch shells. Although the Silkworms malfunctioned and did not inflict any damage, the incident is noteworthy as the first and only time in a war that a ship-fired surface-to-air missile has shot down an ASCM, the honor going to a Sea Dart fired by HMS Gloucester.

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Whether in terms of incidents, damage achieved, weapons fired at a target, or cost of ordnance expended, missiles and missile warfare dominate modern combat at sea.

Briefly, large, defenseless commercial ships showed very high hit-probabilities, but the damage by no means has been uniformly fatal. Hit-probabilities against warships that defended themselves were far lower, yet substantial and usually with devastating effect. Perhaps the most interesting and alarming statistic is the number of successful attacks on defendable ships, such as HMS Sheffield, that failed to protect themselves.

Disconcerting in its tactical implications is the case of the Atlantic Conveyer, hit and destroyed in the South Atlantic War. Two Exocets, launched by a pair of Argentine Super Étendard jet fighters, homed on HMS Ambuscade, one of the screen ships in the Royal Navy formation stationed east of the Falklands. The Ambuscade launched chaff, which distracted the ASCMs and saved her from harm. But once the Exocets had flown through the chaff cloud they searched for another target and found the SS Atlantic Conveyor, destroying the ship and the important cargo on board. By saving herself, Ambuscade failed in her mission to protect the other ships in the formation.

A further irony is that the Argentine pilots actually had hoped to hit the aircraft carrier HMS Hermes, which was also in the formation and had a flight-deck full of Harrier jets.

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If there is a new lesson from the South Atlantic War, it is not that warships are vulnerable to missiles, but that aircraft armed with bombs cannot compete against warships that are equipped with modern defenses.

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Large, protected ships such as battleships are valuable partly because they can take hits and continue fighting.

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Ships must have warning in order to deal successfully with missile attacks. In modern sea warfare the outcome between two forces armed with missiles will often be decided by scouting and screening effectiveness before any missiles actually are launched.

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In World War II it took a lot more punishment to sink a warship than to incapacitate it. Comparing tables 7-1 and 7-2, the average was five times as many 1,000-pound bombs and two or three times as many torpedoes.

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Beall’s conclusion is that vulnerability is proportional to the cube root of displacement. Since displacement is roughly proportional to the three dimensions of length, beam, and draft, the cube root reduces the measurement to one dimension. The Brookings study concluded that a hit by one large warhead would incapacitate a modern warship up to 300 feet long, and another similar warhead is required for every additional 100 feet. By that measure, the Proceedings article concluded that to kill (not sink) an aircraft carrier would require seven missile hits, three missile hits would kill an Aegis cruiser, one or two were required for a frigate, and one would be enough for a patrol craft.

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The results are disconcerting to the tactician because all of them show the flatness of the kill curve. In fact, the BuShips data indicate that only a few more hits were required to sink a battleship or carrier than to sink a heavy cruiser. Can modern designs be effective against cruise or theater ballistic missiles to keep a modern combatant in action? The classified 1990 study by NSWC Carderock asserted that a great deal can be done; moreover, the toughening will come at only a modest increase in cost. Whether this is so, the Navy’s current inventory is mainly in large warships that are potent offensively but depend almost entirely for survival on reducing susceptibility by a layered defense of combat air patrols, SAMs, and hard-kill and soft-kill point defenses. Even more important, American warships depend for survival on out-scouting the enemy and attacking him not only effectively, but decisively first. These are tactics suitable for a fleet in the open ocean. The tactics will lose their efficacy in littoral waters.

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Since a large ship enjoys economies of scale, it will carry more fuel, ordnance, aircraft, or Marines than several smaller ships of the same total cost. The analytical conclusion is, therefore, “bigger is better.” The important disadvantage of a large, supposedly efficient ship is the hazard of putting many eggs in one basket. Indeed, the Beall, Humphrey, Schulte, and BuShips studies all reflect a diseconomy of scale. If a 60,000-ton ship carries twenty times the payload of a three-thousand-ton ship but can only take three or four times as many missile or torpedo hits as a small one before it is out of action, then that is a substantial disadvantage offsetting its greater payload.

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Coastal navies use land installations to scout and attack from as safer, cheaper, and more resilient than large warships. Their fighting ships are small and heavily armed. They depend for success on stealthy attack and surprise by out-scouting the enemy. Their ships are short-legged with austere habitability, because they can sortie to perform brief, stressful tasks.

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Borrensen puts the operational aim of a competent coastal defense in full strategic context: a coastal state will not attempt to defeat the navy of a maritime state, but instead will endeavor to inflict sufficient pain on that navy in an extended campaign so that the enemy will not think the game worth the candle.

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Joergensen offers a pointed warning that the U.S. Navy is not sufficiently configured or practiced to defeat a coastal power without severe losses. The implication of both articles is that it will not take a high-technology coastal defense to inflict pain and suffering on a high-technology, blue-water navy.

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The U.S. Navy’s principal responsibility is to safeguard the oceans almost anywhere, though not everywhere at once. The other side of the coin is to deny movement of enemy shipping and the means of war—an easier mission that usually comes with the territory when the first mission is achieved.

Weakness that comes from disregarding these two missions invites another country to build up a blue-water fleet to move into the power vacuum.

The A-10 wasn’t designed for drones

Saturday, March 21st, 2026

The A-10 Warthog is the ultimate drone hunter for the modern battlefield:

In an era where cheap, slow-moving drones like Iran’s Shahed-136 (and its Russian Geran-2 cousin) are flooding the skies flying at just 115 mph while costing as little as $20,000–$50,000 apiece traditional air defenses are bleeding money dry.

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Here’s why the A-10 is built for this mission like no other platform.

1. Speed & Loiter Time: The Perfect Match for Slow Drones

The Shahed-136 cruises at a leisurely ~185 km/h. The A-10’s top speed is ~420 mph, but its real strength is its cruise and loiter speed around 300–340 mph at low altitude. It was designed to loiter for hours over the battlefield, giving pilots plenty of time to spot, track, and engage slow-moving targets that fast jets would blast right past. (Helicopters like the AH-64 Apache can do similar work, but the A-10 is faster, has far greater range, and can cover more ground without needing to land and refuel as often. In saturation attacks, one Warthog can patrol a wide area and knock down drone after drone on a single sortie).

2. Firepower: Cheap, Precise, and Devastating

The A-10’s legendary GAU-8 Avenger 30mm cannon is overkill for tiny drones one burst would shred a Shahed into confetti. But the real gamechanger is the APKWS II (Advanced Precision Kill Weapon System). These 70mm laser-guided rockets cost roughly $20,000 each a fraction of an AIM-9 Sidewinder or AMRAAM. An A-10 can carry dozens of them, turning the jet into a flying rocket truck with massive magazine depth. The FALCO software upgrade (cleared on the A-10) gives the rockets a proximity fuse and laser guidance perfect for subsonic, low-maneuverability drones. Pilots use targeting pods to paint the target the rocket does the rest. And if the drones get too close, the cannon is always there as backup.

3. Built Like a Tank

The Warthog’s famous titanium “bathtub” armor protects the pilot from ground fire up to 23mm. In drone-hunting missions, it can operate low and slow in contested airspace where fragile fighters or expensive stealth jets would be too vulnerable or too fast to be useful. Self-sealing fuel tanks and redundant systems mean it can take hits and keep flying exactly what you need when hunting cheap drones that might be escorted by basic air defenses.

4. Cost-Effectiveness That Actually Makes Sense

This is the killer argument in the drone age. Shooting down a $20k Shahed with a million-dollar missile is economic suicide. The A-10 flips the script: cheap rockets, reusable platform, and the ability to stay on station for extended periods. Analysts have called it a “sweet spot” platform faster than helicopters, slower and more persistent than F-16s or F-35s for this specific threat.

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The A-10 wasn’t designed for drones, but the drone wars have found the perfect aircraft for the job. Its combination of loiter endurance, low-speed agility, massive cheap firepower, and legendary toughness makes it the ultimate drone hunter. While fifth-generation fighters chase high-end threats, the Warthog can stay low, stay long, and swat Shaheeds (and their kin) out of the sky for pennies on the dollar.

The autonomy software wasn’t supposed to be enabled until the boats were suitably far out to sea

Tuesday, March 17th, 2026

Project Maven by Katrina MansonOne day in June, 2025, a group of self-driving military boats lined up for a test event at Channel Islands Harbor Marina, a mile north of Port Hueneme Naval Base:

The boats were part of the Replicator program, which was then two years old and less than two months away from the official deadline to deliver thousands of maritime and air drones. The pressure was building.

Things began with support vessels towing autonomous boats out to sea; the drones’ engines were set to neutral and their autonomy mode turned off. The test focused not so much on the vehicles themselves—known as global autonomous reconnaissance crafts, or GARCs—as on the software that allowed them to function on their own. Two separate companies, the defense contractor L3Harris Technologies and Anduril, had made autonomous operating systems for the boats. That day, Replicator was testing GARCs that ran on each company’s product.

As a safety precaution, the autonomy software wasn’t supposed to be enabled until the boats were suitably far out to sea. But one drone running L3Harris’ system suddenly lurched forward. Its autonomy mode, which had somehow turned on, required it to keep a distance of 80 meters (262 feet) from all other objects. The robo-boat sped away, still tethered to the towboat. It alternately accelerated and decelerated, then started crisscrossing in front from port side to starboard side in a semicircling action.

The captain of the towboat had no way of taking over control of the automated vehicle, whose erratic movements caused his own vessel to capsize, throwing him into the water. Still tethered to the towboat, the drone turned back toward it and—for reasons that remain unclear—started advancing at rapid speed.

A captain towing a separate GARC saw what was happening and raced toward the scene, positioning his vessel between his floating comrade and the advancing drone. A third towboat pulled the captain out of the water, and he escaped without serious injury. It had been just three minutes since the drone had gone rogue.

A safety investigation soon diagnosed the problem: An operator on the dock had inadvertently sent a message to the drone remotely disabling the safety lock meant to prevent it from switching into autonomy mode—a classic “fat-finger mistake.” A spokesperson for L3Harris said in a statement that the operator who caused the issue didn’t work at the company and that its software had “demonstrated its ability to control a mix of uncrewed platforms, payloads, and commercial technologies even if they were produced by different manufacturers.” A physical button was added to drone boats to block such accidental commands, and the boats were tweaked to prominently display the mode under which they were operating. Rival companies would start sharing safety lessons.

But the incident illustrated problems that still existed with the Pentagon’s drone strategy and couldn’t be resolved with the addition of another button or two. Replicator had still not progressed to the point that its creators were comfortable putting live ammunition on an unmanned vessel, let alone sending one into a scenario where it would be expected to coordinate with other vehicles or carry out a specific attack plan. The program did manage to deliver hundreds of drones by the August deadline, but it fell far short of its initial goal.

The evident value of such a submarine tanker for refueling oil-burning surface ships in wartime has kept this concept alive

Sunday, March 15th, 2026

For decades now it has been possible to wield sea power without a navy, and the current situation in the Strait of Hormuz is demonstrating just how vulnerable ordinary shipping is to modern missiles and drones — which got me wondering about the practicality of a submersible oil tanker:

In the early ’70’s there was great interest in economically transporting oil from the large oil finds in the Arctic to the markets in the U.S. and Europe. Either pipelines or marine systems seemed feasible. But, bringing the oil out by submarine tanker — on a year-round basis — appeared to be the most cost-effective approach. Consequently a design study of an Arctic submarine tanker was conducted by General Dynamics’ Electric Boat Division to demonstrate the practicality of this approach.

Though this project never materialized, the evident value of such a submarine tanker for refueling oil-burning surface ships in wartime has kept this concept alive. A battle group of nonnuclear powered carriers and escorts, capable of being refueled from a submerged tanker — on any course and at relatively high speed — would greatly increase transit speeds while ensuring a vital underway replenishment capability, particularly in a conventional war environment of enemy ocean surveillance satellites and enemy long range cruise missiles.

The submarine tanker designed by Electric Boat was most economically sized to carry 250,000 deadweight tons of oil. With a length of 1,000 feet, an 80 foot draft, a submerged displacement of 360,000 tons, an operating depth of 1,000 feet and a sustained speed or 18 knots, this giant submarine could transit efficiently under the Arctic ice, through the restrictions in the Northwest Passage and readily avoid icebergs in Davis Strait.

Since this tanker could and probably would load its oil from a bottom loading pad, its total cycle of operations could be secure from enemy observation. Although designed for peacetime commercial use, it could be considered an asset to be activated as a naval auxiliary in wartime. Thus, an enemy campaign against such a vital element in U.S. logistics should have little chance of being successful. With the U.S. advocating a “forward offensive maritime strategy,” the security or its critical refueling elements “under the gun” of enemy homeland defenses even moreso emphasizes the submarine tanker solution.

When the attractiveness of this submerged commercial tanker for wartime naval operations became evident, a further design study for the underwater refueling system was conducted. A probe and drogue system similar to that used for aircraft refueling from tanker aircraft was shown to be feasible — the submarine positioning itself under the surface ship and pumping oil up through ·its telescopic probe into a bottom drogue on the surface ship. The safety factor in this method of refueling was particularly good because of the stability of the submarine under all sea conditions and the little movement of a surface ship drogue, positioned at its center of flotation.

The vessel is essentially a large, rectangular tanker-like ship hull with the long internal cylindrical pressure-resisting hull, usually associated with a submarine, centered within the outer rectangular hull. The central hull contains the living and control spaces, pumps and auxiliaries, and the propulsion machinery. Except for the free flooding ends of the ship, the remainder is filled with oil cargo in the loaded condition and sea water in the ballasted condition. The variable cargo tanks on either side are provided to compensate for the difference between density of sea water and the oil.

The propulsion is by twin screws driven by steam turbines. Steam is supplied by a pressurized water reactor, similar in design to those presently in use for commercial electric power generation. The nuclear steam supply system produces steam for the two propulsion trains, each plant developing 37.500 SHP at the propeller for a total of 75,000 SHP. The sustained sea speed would be 18 knots.

By the end of World War II, the Germans were using “milk cow” submarines in this role — but submarines have come a long way since then. In particular, modern submarines travel more efficiently while submerged, not less, because they’re designed primarily for undersea travel, where they encounter no wave-making resistance.

They also encounter no air, which is why “true” submarines only became practical with the advent of nuclear power. But there are non-nuclear forms of air-independent propulsion (AIP), like fuel cells:

Fuel cells are not new. They have undergone significant technological improvements from when they were first considered for submarine propulsion by Germany in the 1950s. The principle of producing power is straightforward; hydrogen and oxygen gas react to produce water and an electrical current. It is the reverse process of electrolysis, where a current is sent through liquid water to split the bonds between the oxygen and hydrogen atoms. Through engineering optimization, enough electrical power can be harnessed from this reaction to power a variety of loads. Current uses include cars, buses, remote cell phone towers, and forklifts. The German Navy already has a hydrogen fuel cell–powered submarine class, the Type 212, first launched in 2005, and variants it sells abroad to countries such as Italy and Singapore.

The Gotland-class submarine, a Swedish boat, is the most prominent example of the extreme stealth of non-nuclear AIP submarines. During a joint wargaming exercise in 2005, it tactically sank the USS Ronald Reagan (CVN-76) several times. It was virtually undetectable by all available antisubmarine efforts.

While powered by a Stirling engine, the concept and application of the Gotland-class AIP system are the same as for others. Stirling engines and other forms of non-nuclear AIP, while quieter than nuclear, are louder and less efficient than fuel cells. There are no mechanical parts in the main fuel cell system such as in combustion driven engines. Fuel cells offer the lowest noise levels because almost no sound is produced by an electro-chemical reaction. The only components in the engine room that could contribute to the sound signature are the compressors and pumps for fuel, water, and cooling.

Yet, cooling requirements for fuel cells are much lower than combustion and nuclear because of the low operating temperature of 100°C for proton-exchange membrane fuel cells. Conversely, nuclear-powered submarines need extensive cooling and vibrational dampening because of high operating temperatures, requiring several large coolant pumps and bulky, complicated mechanical systems such as steam turbines and reduction gears.

In addition to the fuel cells, there are advanced lithium-ion batteries on board AIP vessels that can power the electric motor at higher speeds with no loss of acoustic fidelity. Without the nuclear reactor, there also is a smaller infrared heat signature and no radiological trace. There is a significant stealth advantage to fuel cells that lowers the detectable range of the vessel.

Fuel cell AIP submarines do not have the nominally infinite endurance of nuclear-powered submarines; however, they can remain underwater for much longer than alternative AIP options such as closed-cycle diesel generator, Stirling, and MESMA (a French steam turbine). Fuel cells are significantly more efficient than diesel engines, thus requiring less oxygen fuel per kWh of energy produced. Diesel-electric boats have a max underwater time of a couple of days because of battery limits. Fuel cell AIPs can last weeks underwater and have a range of up to 2,000 nautical miles. Further, by forward deploying these vessels in ports that are close to their respective operating areas, the ratio of time on station to transit and refueling time is increased.

They wouldn’t be immune to mines and underwater drones, of course, but one thing at a time.

Most managers optimize for being informed

Tuesday, March 3rd, 2026

Anish Moonka summarizes the key points of Elon Musk’s interview with Dwarkesh Patel and notes that Elon’s methodology is always asking, what is the limiting factor right now, and how do I remove it?

Chip output is growing exponentially. Electricity production outside China is flat. By the end of this year, Elon predicts AI chips will be piling up faster than anyone can turn them on. The companies that win are the ones that can plug their chips in, not the ones that buy the most.

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Solar panels produce 5x more power in orbit because there is no atmosphere, no day/night cycle, no weather, and no clouds. And you need zero batteries. Combined, that is roughly 10x the economics of ground-based solar. Space solar cells are also cheaper to manufacture because they require no glass or heavy framing.

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Within five years, Elon predicts SpaceX will launch hundreds of gigawatts of AI compute into orbit annually, exceeding the cumulative total on Earth. That is 10,000 Starship launches a year. One launch per hour. 20 to 30 reusable ships rotating on 30-hour cycles.

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Only three casting companies in the world make the specialized vanes and blades for gas turbines. They are backlogged through 2030. Everything else in a power plant can be sourced in 12 to 18 months. But without those blades, you have no turbine and no electricity.

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Digital human emulation means an AI that can do everything a human worker can do at a computer: read screens, click buttons, type, think, and decide. NVIDIA’s output is “FTPing files to Taiwan.” Apple sends files to China. Microsoft, Meta, and Google produce nothing physical. If you can perfectly emulate a human at a computer, you can replicate the output of every one of these companies. Customer service alone is a trillion-dollar market with zero integration barriers.

[…]

Elon argues that programming AI to be politically correct, meaning to say things it does not believe, creates contradictory axioms that could make it “go insane.”

When humans represent less than 1% of total intelligence, it would be “foolish to assume there’s any way to maintain control.” The best case is AI with values that find humanity more interesting alive than converted to raw materials. Elon compares the ideal future to Iain Banks’ Culture novels, where superintelligent AI coexists with humans because it finds them interesting.

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Elon runs weekly (sometimes twice-weekly) engineering reviews with skip-level meetings where individual engineers present without advance prep. He mentally plots progress points across weeks to determine if a team is converging on a solution. Time is allocated not to what is going well, but to whatever the current bottleneck is. If something is working great, he stays away.

Most managers optimize for being informed. Elon optimizes for being useful at the point of highest leverage.

Tom Clancy Speaks at the National Security Agency

Thursday, February 12th, 2026

I’ve been slowly working my way through the Tom Clancy novels, and I just stumbled across this old talk he gave at NSA, after writing his first two novels:

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.