News and Notes | Visions

NUKEMAP at one year and 10 million blasts

by Alex Wellerstein, published February 8th, 2013

A year ago this week, I launched the NUKEMAP. It’s perhaps fitting that this week, NUKEMAP also (coincidentally) hit 10 million “detonations.” That corresponds with just over 2.25 million pageviews (1.96 million unique). Which is pretty crazy. I attribute a lot of the success I’ve had with this blog to the NUKEMAP, as a driver of traffic. A few percent of the visitors look at the blog; a few percent of them become regular readers. A few percent of two million is a lot of people.

The mapping of where people bombed doesn’t look significantly different than did the first million, so I won’t post another one of those images. But here’s some fun-with-data for you: below is a heatmap of all of the 10 million detonations. The “hotter” it is (e.g. red or orange), the more times a given place or region was nuked. I shaved off a few decimal places from the latitude and longitude coordinates so that repeated nukes in the same basic area were lumped together (and so you don’t have to worry if you nuked your neighbor’s house a million times), but it is still pretty granular.

NUKEMAP at 10 million

If you click on the image, you’ll go to an interactive version.1

For people who are into metrics, here are the daily, weekly, and monthly pageview graphs of the NUKEMAP from Google Analytics. After an initial big burst, it died down a bit (to 2,000 hits or so a day, mind you), punctuated by occasional new big bursts as it occasionally landed on the Reddit front page every once in awhile.

Hey, even Jon Stewart was into it:

"sinc when"

John asks: “When did lower Manhattan become the standard unit of destruction measurement?” Answer: Certainly by the late 1940s, probably even earlier.

OK, so Jon Stewart posted something that was originally from ABC News, so technically ABC News was into it, but it’s still Jon Stewart! I’ll take what I can get in that department!

Awhile back I did a write-up of NUKEMAP usage patterns for WMD Junction, an online journal: So Long, Mom, I’m Off to Drop the Bomb: A Case Study in Public Usage of an Educational Tool. Check it out if you are curious about who-bombed-who.

People have also done some pretty cool things with it. The infographic shown by Jon Stewart derives  from a setting that was sent around on Reddit and elsewhere showing the effects of a 6 kiloton bomb on lower Manhattan, with 6 kilotons being one of the yield estimates of the 2009 North Korean test. 6 kilotons doesn’t sound like a lot by modern standards, unless you happen to be right underneath it, and then it’s probably worth taking seriously.

An engineer in the U.K. (who has asked to be credited only as “RLBH”)  recently made and sent me an incredibly elaborate map modeling  “Probable Nuclear Targets in the United Kingdom” as imagined by the Joint Intelligence Committee of the British Ministry of Defence in 1967:2

NUKEMAP UK targets, 1967

That’s pretty neat, and is actually very much related to the original project of which NUKEMAP was originally a spin-off (dubbed as TARGETMAP, which I’ve put indefinitely on hold for the moment for lack of time).

There’s only one lesson that I’ve been a little disturbed by. An awful lot of people are amazed at how small the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs were compared to thermonuclear weapons. That’s true — but it’s because the megaton-range weapons were insane, not because the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs were small. By human standards, 10-20 kilotons should still be horrifying. From a view of 100,000 feet, though, it’s a lot less impressive than the Tsar Bomba, even though the latter was a lot less of a realistic threat than weapons of “smaller” yields, and is certainly a lot less of a threat today. When you put “small” nukes next to monstrous nukes, it is easy to lose perspective. That’s not my goal — my goal is to help people get a sense of scale, something that I think is even more important in a post-Cold War age.

So I’m excited to announce that I’m deep in the coding of a successor to NUKEMAP. It isn’t quite ready for prime time, yet, but it’s well past the proof-of-concept stage. It works. I’m trying to incorporate the lessons I learned with the use and reception of the first NUKEMAP into the new one, and trying to provide a very different sort of user experience. The details are still hush-hush. I’ve told a handful of people about it in person, to gauge reactions, and have a few beta testers lined up, but I’m confident enough to say that this is something entirely new. The new NUKEMAP will do things that no other online nuclear effects simulator does. So keep an eye out for it. There is no estimated-time-of-arrival — it’ll be up when it’s good and ready — but it will probably be up by the end of spring 2013.

  1. Note: the underlying dataset for the 10 Million browser is static. So it would not be worth your time trying to influence how it looks at this point by bombing all over the place. []
  2. RLBH sent me some details on how he made his map:

    I’m sure you’re familiar with Professor Peter Hennessy’s book The Secret State: Preparing for the Worst, 1945-2010 (London: Penguin, 2003), which contains (amongst other things) a list of ‘Probable Nuclear Targets in the United Kingdom’ drawn up by the Joint Intelligence Committee of the British Ministry of Defence in 1967. This list suggests the use of some 377 nuclear devices against 100 targets in the United Kingdom, none of less than 500 kilotons yield and with a total yield between 272.5 and 362.5 megatons.

    I know that a Swedish gent has used your NUKEMAP tool to generate his own targeting plan against Sweden, but I’ve not heard of it being used to illustrate a ‘real’ war plan before. For my own elucidation, I’ve modelled the JIC’s targeting plan for the UK in NUKEMAP, with the following caveats applying to my method.

    – Where multiple devices are programmed for a single point target, I’ve only modelled the largest. Some such targets were overkilled to a remarkable extent, even allowing for delivery system unreliability – most command & control centres, for instance, were allocated two missiles warheads of 3 megatons each, and two 1 megaton gravity bombs.

    – For the industrial area targets, I’ve selected DGZs on the basis of my own best judgment, generally seeking to maximise the industry receiving 20 psi of overpressure. Unsurprisingly, this results in significant overkill against the housing and population of the targeted cities. This also means that some surprisingly large cities are totally untouched by the initial strike, which would certainly be targeted in a pure countervalue ‘dehousing’ strike. I’ve similarly eyeballed the attack on London, assuming here that the eight one-megaton warheads would be dual-targeted on four DGZs.

    – I’ve not made any allowance for devices initiating over other than their programmed DGZ. This means, in effect, that two or three devices are ‘wasted’ against some targets, which could in fact be more profitably used elsewhere. This is especially the case, of course, for the bomber-carried devices, as these can more readily be retargeted.

    – Where the yield of devices is specified as a range, I’ve used the simple arithmetic mean of the maximum and minimum. This means there are a few unusual sized weapons used.

    – I’ve treated all devices as airbursts, because of the limitations of NUKEMAP. This isn’t meant as a criticism, it’s far and away the best tool of its’ kind that I’ve seen, and there’s obviously a tradeoff between usability and flexibility. In any case, some 140 devices directed against 70 targets (bunkers, dockyards and airfields) ought to be ground bursts.

    – I’ve also interpreted the central government target at Cheltenham to mean the BURLINGTON bunker at Corsham, rather than GCHQ as Hennesy does. Both would be viable targets, but GCHQ is out of keeping with the rest of the list, whereas BURLINGTON was thought highly likely to be compromised and it’s unlikely that RSGs would be hit and the Government bunker ignored. []

Redactions

Impressions of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, 1945

by Alex Wellerstein, published February 4th, 2013

Very shortly after the surrender of Japan, American scientists were eager to visit the atomic-bombed cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. They were genuinely curious what the effects of atomic bombs were on actual cities — Hiroshima and Nagasaki were rare “experiments” from one point of view, and the scientists wanted the data, so they could start thinking about future atomic wars. How many people died in each city? Were there differences between the cities? How did different types of buildings affect who lived and who died? Did radiation effects really matter? And so on.

American physicist Robert Serber at Nagasaki, September 1945, showing a tree snapped by the blast 4,000 feet from Ground Zero.

American physicist Robert Serber at Nagasaki, September 1945, showing a tree snapped by the blast 4,000 feet from Ground Zero.

Below are excerpts from two unusual accounts I recently ran across relating to the early observations. I say “unusual” in that they contain observations I hadn’t heard before, and that they seem to be rather rare accounts in any event; they aren’t among the more common ones one finds all over the Internet or the history books.1 These were made a few weeks after the bombs themselves were dropped, owing to the logistical difficulties of the end of the war and the difficulty of getting into the cities. I treasure these sorts of reactions — they usually reveal that even the people who made the bombs and used them were shocked at what they found on the ground, up close. Such impressions are a stark contrast from the view at 30,000 feet.

First, an account of Hiroshima from Colonel (later General) Roscoe C. Wilson, AAF, recollected in 1948. Wilson was part of the first group of Americans into the city. He arrived in Japan in early September 1945, landing in Atsugi:

We landed at Atsugi amid a scene of tremendous activity. The airdrome was battered but fully operational. They then headed to Yokohama.

The countryside was green and peaceful, showing no sign of war. But along the roads women turned their backs, and demobilized soldiers trudged by individually or in small groups with a studied indifference. Only the children greeted us — and they did so with enthusiasm. They made the “V” sign without fail, and shouted “Haroo!” Some of them demanded gum, so it was plain that we were on the route of the 11th [Airborne Division, the first US force in Japan that had arrived not long earlier]. The universally identical greeting of the children could only have been the result of careful schooling.

From there they went to Yokahama:

The outskirts of Yokohama were thoroughly burned out, the people living in huts improvised of galvanized iron sheeting and other salvaged material. It was obvious that community life was being carried on under exceedingly great hardship.

The center of the city, however, was not greatly damaged. Life appeared to be fairly normal, although the absence of any considerable number of people was notable. Through the streets passed mobs of demobilized troops, slogging along in informally organized companies as if the men clung together for mutual support. These motley companies were generally absolutely silent, and appeared to be ignored by the few civilians on the streets.

They stayed in a hotel there for a few days. They moved on, by jeep, to Tokyo:

Tokyo was in frightful condition. Hardly a building was undamaged, and vast areas were destroyed completely. There were no American troops in town, which as yet was “off limits” to the 11th Airborne. We saw an occasional reporter, but otherwise had the conquered city to ourselves. The people were not hostile but exceedingly curious. They swarmed all over our jeep at each stop. Community life was organized and controlled by hordes of gendarmes.

We stopped at the largest of the department stores, which was pitifully stocked. The clerks evidenced no apparent surprise to see us there but rather acted as if they were serving the American tourist of happier days.

At some point they went back to Atsugi, and from there they headed to Hiroshima in a C-54 airplane. Along with Wilson was Brigadier General Thomas Farrell (the local Manhattan Project chief), Brigadier General James B. Newman, Jr., physicist Philip Morrison, and medical officer Colonel Stafford Warren.

We flew over the burned out and ruined cities of Osake and Kobe, arriving over Hiroshima in midmorning. It was apparent that landing on Hiroshima’s airport was impracticable because of the limited runway length and the wreckage which littered the place. We proceeded, therefore, to the military airdrome of Iwakuni, about 20 miles to the south. Here we managed a successful landing despite bomb craters and the wreckage of many aircraft — one of which lay squarely on the runway.

They managed to get a bus to take them to Hiroshima. The bus broke down frequently; it took about 5 hours to make the relatively short journey. They had some issues with the local administration, as they were the first Americans to the city, but it eventually worked out. They headed first to the shrine of Miyajima for the night, on an island. To get there, they had to pass through what Wilson describes as “the Japanese equivalent of Atlantic City — or even Coney Island”:

Nevertheless, when our ferry docked, not a townsman was to be seen on the main street leading from dock to temple. At each street crossing along the main route, however, a gendarme was stationed. In absolute silence, except for the noise we ourselves created, we struggled up the street with our luggage. With the Major leading, we passed the closed shops and houses; as we passed, each gendarme in turn fell silently behind us. I have forgotten how far we walked, but we had quite a platoon behind us when we arrive at the shrine!

Surreal. They stayed at the shrine complex overnight — “the whole shrine area was forested, gloomy and strange to American eyes” — and were given kimonos, which they kept their weapons strapped to. They had a bath and dinner with the priests, then slept — “we retired to our mats with an odd sensation of unreality.” 

Hiroshima

The next morning the streets were full of people, and they were able to get car rides into Hiroshima.

A good deal has been written about Hiroshima, but no-one can describe adequately the smell — and the flies. The former was noticeable from a distance of several miles: first a faint taint which at certain points in the city became almost overpowering. Even the Japanese, who seem not to notice their nauseating “honey carts,”2 had their noses bound up while they probed the ruins. And the blue-bottle flies swarmed in clouds. To open a car window was to fill the car with flies. And we climbed through the ruins in individual swarms.

I tramped through Hiroshima unaccompanied, except for a photographer. The able-bodied people paused to watch us, but never displayed any hostility. I went where I wished, except that I was dissuaded from climbing a hill in the southeast part of the city. I was told that was the abode of Yama — God.

From there they eventually made it to Nagasaki. Some awkwardness ensued when they inadvertently “beat” the official arrival force there — “it was very interesting to be on the ‘wrong’ end of a Marine landing” —  but otherwise he doesn’t report much.

The survey team at Nagasaki. Stafford Warren is the tall man holding a doll given to him as a gift.

The survey team at Nagasaki. Stafford Warren is the tall man holding a doll given to him as a gift.

Lastly, a brief account of Nagasaki by Colonel Stafford L. Warren, part of the medical contingency. Most of Warren’s account is technical and not extremely interesting, but a few things stuck out. One is an early discussion amongst the Japanese and Warren about the ethics of the bombing:

An ex-Los Angeles Japanese newspaperman appeared at the scene at dinner and interpreted accounts of the Japanese newspaper, of which he carried a copy. It contained a storm of controversy raised by the American correspondents over the ethics of the bomb. The Japanese, of course, were beginning to chime in, but in general, were sitting tight, keeping their own thoughts to themselves about this matter. We discussed this far into the night, and came up with the following arguments…

He then reiterates the common defense of the bombings; that the Japanese were planning to fight through the invasion even though they were beaten, and the bomb allowed them to “save face” and surrender without committing harakiri, many net lives were saved, and so forth. The Japanese with Warren appear to have embraced the argument at the time. I thought it was an interesting thing to have such a discussion at such a time and place. Warren considered the American interest in the argument “as a sort of neurotic self-flagellation.”

Warren also has an interesting discussion of a visit to a temple (maybe the same one Wilson mentioned, above), which Warren says was also the departure site for Kamikaze fighters. Lastly, Warren concludes with this account, which needs no introduction:

I shall never forget walking into the Medical School in Nagasaki about five weeks after the detonation, and, on the landing of the second floor, stepping over the body of a young female partly burned, going down the corridors of an American-designed concrete building like those at home, finding in room after room the laboratory equipment so familiar at home, and on the floors, two or three or more bodies, partly burned, entangled in window frames, and twisted under the benches. They must have been doctors, nurses, technicians, and students.

The school was located half of a mile or three-quarters of a mile from the epicenter, and the walls were thick concrete. In the basement below the main entrance, which was easily accessible, there were four piles of new wooden shoes with pink or red ribbons for the toe. Each pair was beside an empty litter on the floor. Also beside each litter was a smear of what I interpreted to be bloody vomitus or bloody diarrhea. Outside was a pile of bones from the cremated bodies. The pile was about three feet deep and fifty feet in diameter.

Ugh. One of the misleading aspects of the bombing photos is that they look like everyone was just “vaporized”; this wasn’t true. Most of the photos we are familiar with were taken after the bodies were removed and cremated or buried as Warren describes above. You can occasionally find photographs that show you bodies, but they are pretty unpleasant.

  1. Manhattan Project History – Book I, General — Volume 4, Auxiliary Activities – Chapter 6, “Investigation of the After Effects of the Bombing in Japan,” in Manhattan Project: Official History and Documents; Reel 1. Here is a copy of the full accounts; apologies that the microfilm is so lousy. []
  2. “Honey carts” are very old slang for carts that carry human manure. In the case of Japan, they would empty the privies at night and sell the manure to farmers. Blech. []
Meditations | News and Notes

Three losses

by Alex Wellerstein, published January 25th, 2013

There were three Manhattan Project losses that I heard about over the last week that I thought were worth briefly commenting on. They highlight, in different ways, how the living history of the Manhattan Project is rapidly vanishing.

Erwin Hiebert, 1972. From the Radcliffe Archives.

Erwin Hiebert, 1972. From the Radcliffe Archives.

Erwin Hiebert had worked as a chemist at the Chicago Metallurgical Laboratory. He passed away last November, though a notice was just recently sent around. I interviewed him a few years back, though not about his bomb work (connected with doing some local Harvard history). I believe I recall him telling me he had worked with Harold Urey on diffusion research. He later became an historian of science, and this was the capacity I knew him in. He was a charming old man, very helpful, very friendly. He wasn’t a major figure on the Manhattan Project, but it’s sometimes worth remembering how many people were involved in the project other than the main, well-known scientists and the thousands of construction workers or miscellaneous technicians. I recently had a chance to look up just how many people working at the Met Lab — we normally only hear about the 20 or so people who worked on the pile, but at its height, there were around 2,000 people working at Chicago on the bomb, with some 750 of them doing it in a scientific (as opposed to administrative or construction) capacity.

Assembling the Trinity device: Louis Slotin, Herb Lehr, and — I believe, at top right — Donald F. Hornig. It looks a lot like him, to me.

Assembling the Trinity “Gadget”: Louis Slotin, Herb Lehr, and — I believe, at top right — Donald F. Hornig (magnified). It looks a lot like him, to me, but I don’t have confirmation of this. The “Gadget” is at far left, of course; on top of the box next to it is the container with its plutonium core.

Donald F. Hornig also recently passed away. He worked at Los Alamos during the war, and was heavily involved in the instrumentation work that was required for the implosion bomb. He was credited as the inventor of the triggered spark-gap switch (a “low-impedance switch”), which was the switch necessary to divert a high-voltage signal to the 32 detonators on the “Gadget” with a simultaneity tolerance of only nanoseconds. (A patent application for this switch had been filed in his name in late 1945; it was declassified and granted in 1976. Hornig told me he had no awareness of it being filed or granted when I talked to him a few years back.) He was also one of the last people in the “Trinity” tower before its detonation, checking the electrical connections, which proved to be a somewhat hair-raising experience. He describes his work at “Trinity” in some detail here. It’s worth a read:

I think I was the last person down from the tower although there might be a little bit of argument about that. I won’t go into any detail, but Oppenheimer had gotten worried about nine o’clock the night before about how easy the thing was to sabotage by anyone who really knew anything about it, and so I believe it was Kistiakowsky, Bainbridge and I who each took a turn sitting with it up on the tower. My turn came from around nine o’clock until midnight, in the midst of a violent thunder and lightning storm. You get philosophical in those circumstances. You know, either you do get hit by lightning or you don’t and either way you won’t know what happens.

He had many later achievements, including being LBJ’s science advisor.

The Oak Ridge K-25 plant in 1945.

The Oak Ridge K-25 plant in 1945.

Lastly, the K-25 plant has been completely destroyed. The Oak Ridge facility, which had been used during and after World War II to enrich uranium via the gaseous diffusion method, was the largest factory under one roof at the time it was constructed. It had been long since shut down, and, a few years back, all but one “cell” of its building had been destroyed. A number of people had been trying to keep the cell preserved as an historic site, but it came to naught. It took only 20 minutes to permanently knock down the last piece of it, the last indication of the scale of this site.

I think this is really too bad — a completely missed opportunity. I know that there are people who have mixed feelings about preserving the Manhattan Project sites — they think that they will be used as excuses to glorify the atomic bomb. I think this is entirely misguided. These sites are ambiguous and they provoke different reactions from different people. By analogy, there can be controversy over how the Enola Gay should be presented to the public, but the answer is not to melt the Enola Gay into scrap. Destroying these sorts of legacies is a permanent act, whereas the act of interpretation is an always changing one. Erasing history is not the right response to the fact that we still disagree over it. Destroying the sites where the atomic bomb was made will not change the fact that we made the atomic bomb.

The last generation of people who worked on the first atomic bombs is passing away. The bomb still exists. We should be doing more to preserve these sites, even if they make us uncomfortable, even if we are unsure how they will be used by people in the present or the future.

Visions

More nuclear symbolism

by Alex Wellerstein, published January 22nd, 2013

Two small graphical things I wanted to share that came from feedback on a few recent posts.

The first is an explanation, of sorts, of the United Kingdom Atomic Energy Authority’s very unusual emblem:

UKAEA Coat of Arms

I had ragged on the AEA’s design as being particularly stodgy, but I’ve been corrected. It’s just unduly weighed down by obscure symbolism, as a commentator pointed out. It was, apparently, designed by the Royal College of Arms with the following visual references:

  • The central shield is black denoting the core of a graphite reactor, with inserted rods of silver uranium.
  • The inverted triangle shows gold and scarlet bolts of heat and power.
  • The energy released by splitting the atom is controlled by a pair of red pantheons, which are ferocious heraldic beasts. They are firmly held to the ground by thick golden chains to ensure the energy is firmly controlled.
  • The pantheons have 13 six-pointed stars and two seven-pointed stars, totalling 92. These represent the 92 natural elements found in creation and also the atomic number of uranium.
  • The five spikes on the collars signify the atomic number of boron, which was used to shutdown the early reactors.
  • There are numerous representations of 8 for the atomic number of oxygen, 2 for helium and 1 for hydrogen – suggesting water. The whole gives insights into the four medieval elements of earth, air, fire and water.
  • The sun represents the power of fusion, and the small shield with the black bird (a martlet) is the Coat of Arms of Lord Rutherford. He is recognised as the founder of nuclear physics.
  • The steel helmet signifies the arms of a corporate body.
  • The whole is placed on the earth on which flowers and plants are flourishing normally. [???]
  • The motto “E minimis – maxima” means; ‘from the smallest, the greatest‘.

I thought that was interesting enough to share. Any resemblance between the “pantheons” and mutated horse-dogs is apparently entirely coincidental. And despite the barren, Moon-like appearance of the “earth,” it is apparently “flourishing normally.” Actually, the above image, painted on the doors of the Dounreay Prototype Fast Reactor, is slightly different than the other image of the emblem I had posted, which does have a more flourishing-looking ground cover, as well as a knight’s head.

All of this is a stark contrast from the US Atomic Energy Commission’s emblem, whose symbolism seems to have been, “it’s an atom, stupid.” I hereby promote the AEA’s emblem from “most boring” to “not as boring as I thought,” which leaves the current Department of Energy seal as the “most boring.”

Secondly, I have another cryptic drawing referencing the history of the hydrogen bomb, again by George Gamow. This one has been reproduced here and there, but a friend of mine came across an original version in the Gamow papers at the Library of Congress awhile back, and sent me his photographs of it and its captions. The drawing follows:

H-bomb history drawing, by George Gamow

The attached caption (written, as always, in Gamow’s amusing handwriting and bad English) was as follows:

A drowing made by G. Gamow (with photographic inserts) which was handing [hanging?] in his office in the Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory during the dispute about the political necessity of developing an H-bomb and during the early stages of its developement after President Truman sayd: “Yes, go ahead.”

Top left is Comarade Stalin carrying the A-bomb made in the USSR.

Top right is Dr. Robert Oppenheimer who was objecting against H-bomb project on the basis that it is extremely difficult (actually it took less than two years) and will induce USSR to do the same (actually Russians worked on H-bomb when this discussion was taking place).

The coffin with the Harvard University coat of arms belong to Professor Dr. James B. Connant who said that: “H-bomb will be built only over his dead body.”

On the bench below are Dr’s Stan Ulam, Edward Teller, and George Gamow, demonstrating their proposals for making H-bomb. The simbolism of these deviced cannot be explained because AEC classified them as “SECRET”. 

The “simbolism” is fairly cryptic. The caption dates it around February 1950, so that might make it even harder to make sense of, as we’re talking about fairly early days when it comes to the final H-bomb design, but I’m not sure how reliable I find that dating. (The H-bomb debate was in late 1949-early 1950, though the caption was obviously written at a much later time.)

Looking for some insight into the technical discussions that were happening at this time, I took a gander at Anne Fitzpatrick’s quite detailed thesis on the early history of the H-bomb, “Igniting the Light Elements: The Los ALamos Thermonuclear Weapons Project, 1942-1952,” (Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, 1999), which was issued as LA-13577-T. Fitzpatrick’s work is notable as one of the few H-bomb histories that have been written by a non-participant but also with access to classified information. (The whole thing was, of course, screened for security, and she notes in a few places where she was asked to label things merely as “special” to make them more vague.)

Fitzpatrick notes that Gamow spent a sabbatical year at Los Alamos in 1949-1950, to help with work on the H-bomb, which matches up with his caption above. While there, he seems to have produced a bevy of H-bomb-themed drawings, of which she reproduces three. One shows the complexity of the energy flow problem in a Super, another portrays the hydride bomb (“Elmer”) as “unattractive and clumsy” in comparison with a lower-yield water penetrating fission bomb (“Elsie”/”L.C.”), and the another portrayed Ulam and Teller themselves as the ultimate Super design:

Gamow's Can't Lose Model for the Super

But back to the original, “simbolic” Gamow image. Ulam’s spittoon almost surely references the fact that you’re using forces at a (relative) distance to compress the secondary, right? Whether one does that by hydrodynamic lensing (Ulam’s original proposal) or radiation implosion (the later Teller-Ulam design) doesn’t seem to be distinguishable. On the other hand, Ulam didn’t propose that until 1951, so this might be something else entirely. Fitzpatrick’s thesis doesn’t spell out any additional Ulam proposals that I saw.

Teller’s is much more cryptic. Looking at Fitzpatrick’s thesis, she says that at this time, Teller was championing a device dubbed “Little Edward.” (Oh myyyy.) This was, she says, “a giant, high-yield multi-crit gun device proposed by Teller that was supposed to produce x-radiation to ignite the D-T mixture in the Super.” Could that be the string of beads with the giant Omega in the middle of it? It sounds like an ungainly device, and indeed, it was eventually dropped as being very wasteful and without much guarantee that it would do anything better than other designs on the table.

And lastly, there’s Gamow’s. According to Fitzpatrick, Gamow’s design was known as the “Cat’s Tail.” She says that it was “a variation on the large fission detonator purported to ignite the Super… Gamow theorized that the Cat’s Tail needed less T[ritium] than had been assumed in the ENIAC Super problems, but could not guarantee this.” Since, as far as I know, Gamow’s designs have never been discussed openly (and were not successful), it’s pretty difficult to try and correlate such an image to an actual bomb design.

Presumably there were no cat-driven hydrogen bombs, though having owned a cat, I can see that one might be seriously tempted to exploit some of their malicious energy in this way. I welcome any and all additional interpretations.

Redactions

George Gamow and the atomic bomb

by Alex Wellerstein, published January 18th, 2013

George Gamow stands out as a colorful physicist among a generation of colorful physicists. He was a known wit, a friend to many of the “golden generation” of physicists, and — on top of all that — was a Russian émigré who had made a dramatic defection from the Soviet Union during a Solvay Conference. He was also a well-known popularizer of science, authoring well over a dozen works of physics aimed at the general public, often illustrated with his own amusing little drawings. He was quite a card: who else adds a scientist’s name to a massively important paper just to make a silly pun?

George Gamow, laughing and smoking, probably ca. the 1950s. Photo from the AIP Emilio Segrè Visual Archives.

George Gamow, laughing and smoking, probably ca. the 1950s. Photo via the AIP Emilio Segrè Visual Archives.

(Later in life, he became a very difficult person to be around, on account of his alcoholism. It was this fact that made me a little surprised that there was a free wine bar sponsored in the name of George Gamow at a meeting of the History of Science Society a few years back.)

Gamow’s scientific interests were all over the place — he was completely uninterested in disciplinary boundaries — and he was enormously influential on his peers as a “program builder.”1  It’s a little-known fact that Edward Teller came up with the idea of using a solid core of plutonium in the implosion design — an intuition he had because of his work with Gamow on the molten, compressed iron core of the Earth.2 Gamow’s work on nucleosynthesis and the Big Bang was immensely important to the advancement of cosmological thinking. Incidentally, Gamow did not like the term “Big Bang,”  because it sounded too much like nukes. He later even had an excursion into molecular biology.

But during World War II, Gamow didn’t work on the atomic bomb, though he continued to work on nuclear physics. One of the most charming letters I’ve found in the archives was written by Gamow to Vannevar Bush on August 12, 1945. You will note, of course, that this comes just three days after the bombing of Nagasaki, and is the same day the Smyth Report was released. In a clear but stylized handwriting, with a touch of refugee’s English, Gamow wrote the following letter to Bush:3

Click image to view PDF.

Click image to view PDF.

Aug 12th, 1945
19 Thoreau Drive
Bethesda, Md.

Dear Dr. Bush,

I am writing to you because I think you are the best man to advice me what to do. As you know I was in no way connected with the project of “atomic bomb” developement, while on the other hand, working all my life on nuclear physics, I naturally could not help not thinking about it and have rather clear ideas about the possibilities involved etc. As long as the whole thing remained a supersecret I was naturally trying to hold all my thoughts to myself. However now, when the thing exploded and all the newspapers are full of informations, I wonder where the boundary between what can and what cannot be told should be placed. Thus, for example, in my course of nuclear physics which I am giving in G.W.U. this summer I will have to speak next week about nuclear transformations, thermonuclear reaction, and nuclear chain reactions. Should I entirely avoid mentioning explosive reactions or not?

Again, I am now preparing the new edition of my Book on Nuclear Physics for Oxford Univ. Press. How much could be told in it about this part of the problem? Finally I was recently asked to write a small popular book on Atomic Energy. Must I reject such offer or not?

You understand of course that in all these cases the question is not about the technical details which I do not know, but about broad “purely scientific” point of view. As the matter of fact I do not think I know much more on the subject that the scientists in other countries, as for example in Soviet Russia, know at present, so that such utterings on my part will hardly be of any particular use for the “competitors.” Still, I would not like to do anything in this direction, without first receiving your advice.

Hoping to hear from you soon

Your very truly G Gamow.

Gamow’s concern was not unique to him, though he was a little ahead of the curve when it came to expressing it. He, like most other physicists, quickly saw that nuclear physics was going to become a much more troublesome thing in the age of atomic bombs. One of the biggest concerns at the time, by those inside the bomb project and those not, was that if nuclear physics became a top-secret area, it would severely impact the education of new physicists.

His letter did not go unnoticed; Vannevar Bush wrote him back a careful reply two days later, pointing out that the Smyth Report was released at almost the same time that Gamow’s letter was written, and that one of its explicit purposes was to make that firm line of security visible to folks like Gamow. Bush then offered up this bit of speculation:

I have no doubt that later there will be constituted in some way an official body to determine the proper bounds of scientific discussion, and undoubtedly competent scientists will be present on any such body. How this may possibly be done it is too early to know. However, in the interim there is a guide in the form of a report [the Smyth Report] and after the body is established there will be a place to turn which anyone can use who may be in doubt. 

The reality was somewhat more complicated than this, in the end. Policing “the proper bounds of scientific discussion” was ostensibly the role of the Atomic Energy Commission, but they found it quite hard to do such a thing in practice.

Gamow was, in the end, somewhat sucked into the weapons complex. He was a lecturer to US Naval Officers on fission physics just before Operation Crossroads, and later he was involved in the work on the hydrogen bomb, at Los Alamos. While there he drew this rather unusual little drawing celebrating the discovery/invention of the Teller-Ulam design in 1951:4

Gamow's drawing of Ulam and Teller, March 1951

What does it mean? Stanislaw Ulam as a very Bugs-Bunnyish hare, Edward Teller as a tortoise? The most banal and boring interpretation would be that Teller had been working at the H-bomb problem for a long time, and it was Ulam — the relative new-comer — had scooped him.

But I can’t help but wonder if there is more to its imagery than that — Gamow’s pen was famously more quick-witted than that. Perhaps there is meant to be a secret clue as to the differences in their approaches?

One stab at it: Teller’s Classical Super involved a propagating thermonuclear reaction in a large mass of fusion fuel — you light one end of a deuterium candle, and the thermonuclear “fire” travels along it. Ulam’s compression scheme (which would be translated into radiation implosion in collaboration with Teller) involved trying to ignite the entire fusion fuel mass all at once, more or less. Teller’s approach is a much slower reaction than Ulam’s; this is part of the reason that Teller’s Classical Super wouldn’t work (the fuel cools too quickly and can’t sustain the temperatures needed for fusion). So Ulam is the fast rabbit, Teller is the slow turtle, and in this instance (unlike Aesop), the rabbit wins the race.

Or perhaps it has something to do with the different geometries? Why does the Teller turtle have three rocks? Is the carrot a reference to the relatively long geometry of the Ulam approach, versus the spherical symmetry of the Alarm Clock design? Is the “P” on Ulam’s hat for his native Poland, or something else?

Are there secrets hidden in Gamow’s humor? Might Gamow be having the last laugh?

  1. Nasser Zakariya, “Making Knowledge Whole: Genres of Synthesis and Grammars of Ignorance,” Historical Studies in the Natural Sciences 42, No. 5 (November 2012), 432-475. []
  2. Robert Christy usually gets the credit for the solid core. It was Teller’s initial idea, but it was Christy who proved it would work. []
  3. George Gamow to Vannevar Bush (12 August 1945), General Records of the Office of Scientific Research and Development, National Archives and Records Administration, RG 227, Box 110, “Security – S-1.” []
  4. This scan comes from the copy reproduced in Peter Galison’s Image and Logic. []