Most professional soldiers will go to almost any length to avoid piecemealing away their resources

December 31st, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesThe Alamogordo test, General Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), had not set aside all doubts about the bomb:

It proved merely that one implosion-type, plutonium bomb had worked; it did not prove that another would or that a uranium bomb of the gun type would. We had made every possible component test we could think of. We were reasonably sure of each one. We knew we could bring the U-235 portions of the bomb together in such a way that, if the theories of atomic energy were correct and U-235 behaved as plutonium had, the bomb should go off. But still no test had been made of the complete bomb. Nevertheless, the indications for success were strong enough so that no one urged us to change our plans of dropping the first gun-type bomb in combat without prior test. In any case, we simply had to take the chance, because the production of U-235 was so slow, even compared to plutonium, that we could not afford to use it in a test.

[…]

Early in the morning of July 16, the bomb — minus the last necessary bit of U-235 — was put aboard the cruiser Indianapolis, which sailed almost immediately. The Indianapolis had a fast but uneventful trip through Hawaii to Tinian.

[…]

The Indianapolis arrived at Tinian on July 26 and discharged her cargo that same day. She then put out to sea, headed for the Philippines, but her voyage came to a sudden and tragic end on July 30 when she was attacked by a Japanese submarine and went down with some nine hundred of her crew.

[…]

I had arranged with Lieutenant General H. L. George, the head of Air Transport, for the final parts, including some U-235, of the Hiroshima bomb to be flown from Albuquerque to Tinian. Because I did not want to risk having the plane disappear in flight with an extremely valuable though small piece of U-235, I asked for two large cargo planes in perfect condition, and the best possible crews. I told George that the cargo would be almost infinitesimal and that the second plane was wanted just in case of need, to tell us where the first one crashed — if it did. George had had his orders from Arnold and he simply said, “Whatever you want, you get.”

[…]

The flight to San Francisco was uneventful but when they were about forty-five minutes out over the Pacific, de Silva’s plane had to return to the mainland because of engine trouble. Contrary to what I had counted on, Taylor’s plane, instead of returning too, continued directly to Hawaii and arrived there several hours before de Silva’s plane came in. Despite our desire to keep the flight inconspicuous, a radio tip — probably sent unofficially — alerted Hawaii to a very important flight, and Taylor was met at the airfield by a group of senior officers who expected at least one high-ranking general with entourage instead of a single second lieutenant. Taylor had no written orders with him, since they were in de Silva’s hands, and soon found the local personnel determined, in accordance with custom, to load the empty plane to capacity. Fortunately, the plane crew had been convinced before departure from California that the trip was most unusual and with their support he was able to keep the ship unloaded until de Silva arrived. From then on the trip was uneventful.

[…]

One of our big problems had been whether to use each bomb as it became available or to store up a sufficient number to permit their employment in quantity. Most professional soldiers will go to almost any length to avoid piecemealing away their resources. However, in this case, we felt that the considerations of time and expected power justified our using the weapons as they became available. If our assessment of these factors had been erroneous, our position might very well have been extremely embarrassing, for our projected production rates called for one Fat Man of the type we had tested at Alamogordo (but not by an air drop) to be delivered at Tinian on about August 6, with a second one to be ready about August 24, and additional ones arriving in increasing numbers from there on.

As I have said, we had no assurance that a uranium bomb, the Thin Man, would work at all. Yet, that was the weapon that we employed against Hiroshima, since we had used up our entire immediate supply of plutonium in the test bomb.

[…]

General Marshall was also furnished with the probable readiness dates of the implosion bomb, and I explained that there would have to be a gap of at least three days between successive bombs, no matter what type was used. I did not give him the reason for this: we needed the time to assemble the bomb, and nothing should be hurried. Judging by the Alamogordo test, I said, we now expected this bomb to have an explosive force exceeding the equivalent of ten thousand tons of TNT and possibly reaching as high as thirty thousand tons.

[…]

Many small problems arose as the date of the first bombing approached. Two years before, the War Department had issued orders prohibiting persons with knowledge of future military operations from flying over enemy-held territory. The reason for this order was sound — to prevent leakage of information through possible prisoners of war — but it created an impossible situation for us. We had to have Parsons and Ashworth and their two technical assistants aboard the bombing planes. We also needed Tibbets and his best pilots on these flights, and we wanted to have certain scientists in the observation planes. We simply could not operate under such a restriction.

When this problem was brought to my attention in Washington, I immediately secured War Department authority to disregard the prohibition for both civilian and military personnel concerned with Centerboard, as our overseas operation had been named, provided their flights were essential.

The island is not merely symbolic but pivotal terrain

December 30th, 2025

At the heart of China’s fixation on Taiwan lies a convergence of ideological, military, and geostrategic imperatives:

Beijing’s leadership views the island not merely as a breakaway province, but as the unfinished business of China’s “national rejuvenation” and a core element of CCP legitimacy. Beijing sees Taiwan’s continued de facto independence as a symbol of national weakness and foreign interference, and as a threat to the Chinese Communist Party’s domestic narrative if left unresolved. This drives a sense of urgency within the PLA to develop credible warfighting options capable of securing control of the island if political efforts fail.

Militarily, Taiwan is a strategic keystone in the Western Pacific. Its position within the first island chain gives it outsized importance in controlling access to the East and South China Seas. If Beijing were to seize Taiwan, the PLA Navy (PLAN) and PLA Rocket Force (PLARF) would be able to displace U.S. influence deeper into the Pacific and threaten critical sea lines of communication linking North America to Southeast Asia. Taiwan’s airfields, ports, and undersea infrastructure would become forward platforms for China’s anti-access and area-denial (A2/AD) networks, narrowing the tactical margin for U.S. and allied forces to project power. From this military perspective, the island is not merely symbolic but a pivotal terrain that could reshape regional balances.

Tactically, seizing Taiwan would require overcoming a heavily fortified defense posture, challenging geography, and a technologically sophisticated defender. Taiwan possesses advanced air defenses (including Patriot PAC-3 and indigenous systems), a modernized fighter fleet, and well-trained marine and special operations units capable of mobile defense and anti-ship missile deployments. Any amphibious assault would have to cross approximately 160 kilometers of open sea under surveillance by U.S. and allied satellites and sensors, suppress Taiwan’s anti-access systems, and secure key ports and landing zones under fire. It would be a complex and high-risk operation.

China has taken key tactical lessons from the Ukraine war. Russian failures to secure air superiority, underestimating resistance, and struggling with logistics in urban warfare have made clear to Beijing that a Taiwan operation will demand overwhelming joint coordination. The PLA is accelerating its ability to conduct complex amphibious operations supported by air, cyber, space, and electronic warfare forces. Tactical units are being trained to operate autonomously in contested environments, utilizing UAVs, loitering munitions, and hardened satellite communications to maintain operational tempo.

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

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.

Reindeer eyes change hues with the seasons

December 28th, 2025

In 2013, scientists discovered that reindeer eyes change hues with the seasons:

If you look into the eyes of an Arctic reindeer (Rangifer tarandus) in the summer, when the days are long and the Sun is bright, you will see shining back a gold and turquoise glow, similar to the emerald reflection of cats’ eyes in the night.

In wintertime, however, when darkness reigns, a reindeer’s eye does something unique. It turns a stunning, deep blue.

[…]

Reindeer feed at twilight, and during the Arctic winter, twilight can last for more than a third of the day, casting an extremely blue light over the icy landscape.

[…]

To aid in the reindeer’s ability to see lurking wolves and yummy lichen in the dimness, scientists think that the animal’s eyes may have evolved to reflect more blue light in winter. This gives the low light another pass through the retina, allowing more information to be gleaned by the eye’s photoreceptors.

As such, the reindeer gets a brighter view of the twilit landscape (up to a thousand times brighter), but the trade-off is an image with significantly less resolution, like looking through misted glass.

[…]

In 2022, Fosbury and colleagues studied the difference between the eyes of reindeer that had died in summer and those that had died in winter.

Their findings support the idea that constant dilation of the pupils in low light affects the eyes’ fluid balance, possibly causing structural changes in the tapetum.

The Pumpkins began to arrive at the end of June

December 27th, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesGeneral Groves was highly impressed with Curtis Lemay, as he explains in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project:

It was very evident that he was a man of outstanding ability. Our discussion lasted about an hour, and we parted with everything understood and with complete confidence in each other. This feeling lasted throughout the operation and into the years since then.

I explained to him the anticipated outcome of our work, describing the probable power of the bombs, their expected delivery dates and probable production rates, and said that we fully expected to drop each bomb as soon as it was ready. I also went into the general organization and state of training of the 509th Group; the responsibilities of the supporting groups from Los Alamos; the factors governing the altitude from which the bomb would have to be dropped, which was approximately the maximum altitude of the B-29; the approximate weights of the two types of bomb; the targets that we had selected; and the type of instructions that would be issued to the field. I made it perfectly clear that the conduct of the operation would be entirely under his control, subject, of course, to any limitations that might be placed upon him by his instructions. Finally, I explained the roles of the two weaponeers, Parsons and Ashworth—the men who would actually arm the bomb—giving him a resume of their particular qualifications.

LeMay asked a few very pertinent questions, and then announced that he would want to carry out the bombing operation using a single unescorted plane. In explaining his reasons for preferring this radical tactic, he pointed out that the Japanese were unlikely to pay any serious attention to a single plane flying at a high altitude, and would probably assume that it was on either a reconnaissance or a weather mission. I replied that I thought his plan was sound, but that this phase of the operation came under his responsibility. I added, however, that some arrangement should be made for the necessary observation planes to be present in the general area at the time the bomb was dropped.

[…]

Because they had been modified to carry the atomic bomb, the B-29’ s of the 509th Group could not easily carry standard conventional bombs. They could, however, deliver bombs having the same shape as the Fat Man, and such a bomb had been developed and produced to provide training and experience to the crews. Known as the Pumpkin, this bomb contained 5,500 pounds of explosives, and was designed for blast effect only, with a proximity fuse that would permit its use for an air burst. Although it was primarily a training device, we had always recognized that it could have tactical uses; now as part of the group’s security cover, we let it leak out on Tinian that its mission was the delivery of Pumpkins in battle. We also hoped that analysis of the results obtained by the use of the Pumpkins might help us to refine the ballistic data for the real bomb.

The Pumpkins began to arrive at the end of June. Reaction to these bombs were mixed. The members of the 509th who, with a few exceptions, still did not know the real reason for their training, were somewhat disappointed that they had spent so much time in practicing to deliver this fairly modest weapon. On the other hand, some members of the other Air Force units based on Tinian, who likewise did not know what the 509th’s real purpose was, became quite enthusiastic about the effectiveness of the Pumpkin’s air bursts over enemy targets and set up a clamor to have more of them made available to their theater.

[…]

As I have explained, a high air burst was necessary for maximum results. It was also dictated by our desire to eliminate, if possible, or in any case to decrease, residual radioactivity on the ground below the burst; to decrease to a negligible degree any harmful fallout downwind; and to diminish to a minimum serious radioactive injuries to the population in the bombed area. We felt that the high burst would confine casualties for the most part to nonradioactive injuries; namely, those due directly and indirectly to the force of the unprecedented explosion.

To be well removed from the point of burst, the bombing plane would have to maneuver as no heavy bomber had ever had to maneuver before. As soon as the bomb was “away,” the plane was to make a sharp diving turn to get as far as possible from the point of explosion. This was one of the reasons why the run was made at the then unprecedented altitude of some thirty thousand feet. The high altitude also greatly reduced the danger of gunfire from enemy airplanes, permitting the removal of the fuselage turrets and all other armament except for the tail guns. This weight reduction appreciably increased the plane’s range and the height at which it could fly.

Studies made at Los Alamos had determined that with a bomb of twenty thousand tons of TNT equivalent, a B-29 plane ten miles away from the burst would be safe from destruction by a factor of two. Under these conditions, the aircraft, which had been designed to withstand a force of four times gravity, would be subjected to a force equivalent to no more than two times gravity. It was calculated that by making a sharp diving turn, the sharpest possible consistent with safety, the B-29 could reach a point at least ten miles from the burst by the time the bomb exploded.

What is good in bourgeois civilization is concentrated in this season of beauty and merriment

December 26th, 2025

The Christmas season is a sort of measuring stick. T. Greer says:

What is good in bourgeois civilization is concentrated in this season of beauty and merriment. Against this bar all creeds, all claimed paths to excellence, all cults of eudaimonia, may be measured. Against this bar most are found wanting.

[…]

It is silly and sentimental, a thoroughly domesticated holiday, in practice a celebration of the most bourgeois aspects of life: private happiness, familial bliss, childhood as a privileged category, contentment derived from creature comforts, joy derived from things given and received, and charity as the guiding virtue—but charity practiced soul-to-soul, not at the level of society as a whole. It is not a holiday that celebrates justice, nor greatness, nor ambition; it is mirthful but never Dionysian; it is faithful but never austere. It sits uneasy with the ethos of the conqueror; it fits no better in the theorizing of the philosopher. No Greek nor Roman, no crusader nor hermit, no revolutionary, no terrorist, no underground man can smile sound on this Victorian relic.

This holiday does not idolize excellence. It gives equally to the old, the poor, and the ugly. It does not ask for supreme sacrifices. It does challenge those who celebrate it to recognize the supreme sacrifice of another—but to recognize this sacrifice in an everyday way, through modest and moderate acts of goodwill. It is a celebration well made for the temperate. It defines success as sitting around a warm fireplace, kids in tow. It draws meaning from nostalgia and merriment, in small rituals and small acts of kindness. Christmas is a bundle of unapologetically mawkish sensibilities gone wild—and despite all of that, it is good.

I am aware that the Christmas I describe is not universal. I describe a tradition whose practices emerged in the mid-1800s, and that have lasted, with an aesthetic tweak there or a practical change there, down to the present. It embodies the virtues of its origins: it is a holiday for the shopkeepers, birthed by the Victorian marriage of Christian sentiments and Enlightenment sensibilities. From that moment arose a set of traditions and convictions that are modest, beautiful, and good. They are small. They are simple. But from these small and simple things great ones may be judged.

American strategy was based upon the assumption that an invasion of the Japanese homeland was essential to ending the war in the Pacific

December 25th, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesThroughout the period when they were planning the atomic bombing operations against Japan, General Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), American strategy was based upon the assumption that an invasion of the Japanese homeland was essential to ending the war in the Pacific:

Under the strategic concept approved by the Joint Chiefs in July of 1944, Kyushu was to be invaded on October 1, 1945, with the final assault on Tokyo following in December of that year. This plan was not dependent in any way upon Russian co-operation.

After the Yalta Conference, however, a debate sprang up over whether it would not be better to encircle Japan and defeat her by attrition than to defeat her by direct attack. Both General MacArthur and Admiral Nimitz, when asked for their opinion, voted for a direct assault.

[…]

It was estimated that a force of 36 divisions—1,532,000 men in all—would be required for the final assault, and it was recognized that casualties would be heavy.

The Joint Chiefs of Staff approved the concept and on May 25 the directive for the Kyushu invasion was issued to General MacArthur, Admiral Nimitz and General Arnold. The target date for the invasion of Kyushu was now November 1, 1945.

[…]

However, one very important question arose: should the United States delay any contemplated military action in the expectation that an effective atomic bomb would be produced as scheduled? To any experienced soldier it was obvious that, once an advantage had been gained over an enemy as dangerous as Japan, no respite should be given. If the bomb had been scheduled for delivery in early November, a few days after the scheduled date of the Kyushu invasion, I would have advised a delay in the landing operation. I expressed this point of view in conversations with Secretary Stimson and Harvey Bundy, but I also told them and General Marshall that I would consider it a serious mistake to postpone any feasible military operation in the expectation that the bomb would be ready as a substitute at some later date.

[…]

Decisions of this nature must always be made by only one man, and, in this case, the burden fell upon President Truman.

[…]

As far as I was concerned, his decision was one of noninterference—basically, a decision not to upset the existing plans.

When we first began to develop atomic energy, the United States was in no way committed to employ atomic weapons against any other power. With the activation of the Manhattan Project, however, the situation began to change. Our work was extremely costly, both in money and in its interference with the rest of the war effort. As time went on, and as we poured more and more money and effort into the project, the government became increasingly committed to the ultimate use of the bomb, and while it has often been said that we undertook development of this terrible weapon so that Hitler would not get it first, the fact remains that the original decision to make the project an all-out effort was based upon using it to end the war. As Mr. Stim-son succinctly put it, the Manhattan Project existed “to bring the war to a successful end more quickly than otherwise would be the case and thus to save American lives.”

[…]

The first serious mention of the possibility that the atomic bomb might not be used came after V-E Day, when Under Secretary of War Patterson asked me whether the surrender in Europe might not alter our plans for dropping the bomb on Japan.

[…]

At this same time a debate arose about how the bomb should be employed. Should we conduct a demonstration of its power for all the world to see, and then deliver an ultimatum to Japan, or should we use it without warning? It was always difficult for me to understand how anyone could ignore the importance of the effect on the Japanese people and their government of the overwhelming surprise of the bomb. To achieve surprise was one of the reasons we had tried so hard to maintain our security.

President Truman knew of these diverse and conflicting opinions. He must have engaged in some real soul-searching before reaching his final decision. In my opinion, his resolve to continue with the original plan will always stand as an act of unsurpassed courage and wisdom—courage because, for the first time in the history of the United States, the President personally determined the course of a major military strategical and tactical operation for which he could be considered directly responsible; and wisdom because history, if any thought is given to the value of American lives, has conclusively proven that his decision was correct.

[…]

I had set as the governing factor that the targets chosen should be places the bombing of which would most adversely affect the will of the Japanese people to continue the war. Beyond that, they should be military in nature, consisting either of important headquarters or troop concentrations, or centers of production of military equipment and supplies. To enable us to assess accurately the effects of the bomb, the targets should not have been previously damaged by air raids. It was also desirable that the first target be of such size that the damage would be confined within it, so that we could more definitely determine the power of the bomb.

[…]

One of the most difficult problems was attempting to estimate, or even guess, the probable explosive force of the weapon. An accurate guess was of vital importance because the closer we came to being right, the more effective the bomb would be. The optimum height of burst was entirely governed by the explosive force. If the altitude of burst we used was below or too high above this optimum, the area of effective damage would be reduced; and it was possible, if it was much too high, that all we would produce would be a spectacular pyrotechnical display which would do virtually no damage at all. We calculated that if the bomb was detonated at 40 per cent below optimum altitude or 14 per cent above, there would be a reduction of 25 per cent in the area of the severe damage.

At first, considerations of possible fallout and of direct radiation definitely favored a burst at a maximum altitude. I had always insisted that casualties resulting from direct radiation and fallout be held to a minimum. After the Alamogordo test, when it became apparent that the burst could be many hundreds of feet above the ground, I became less concerned about radioactive fallout from too low a burst.

For the present, however, since we did not know the size of the explosion, our plans had to be based on conservative detonation heights. For the Little Boy, it was estimated that the explosive force would have a TNT equivalent ranging from 5,000 to 15,000 tons. For this weapon, the corresponding desirable height of detonation would vary then from 1,550 feet to 2,400 feet. For the Fat Man, it was thought that the magnitude of the explosion would range from 700 to 5,000 tons. This would require detonating heights between 700 feet and 1,500 feet. We could only hope that we could tighten up these estimates considerably, particularly for the Fat Man, after testing the implosion bomb. This element of doubt meant that we had to have fuses for four different height settings. By then most of us in the project were thoroughly inured to such uncertainties. Indeed, three days later, on May 14, Oppenheimer informed me that he and von Neumann had concluded after a thorough discussion that the probable explosive power of the Fat Man was still uncertain, and that the views of the Target Committee should be amended accordingly. They estimated that the maximum altitude for which we should be prepared to set fuses was about twice the minimum, and even for the Little Boy the minimum and probable altitude was only two-thirds of the maximum.

It was agreed that visual bombing was so important from the standpoint of hitting the target that we should be prepared to await good weather. This was based on an estimate that there was only a 2 per cent chance that we would have to wait over two weeks.

The committee recommended that we have spotter aircraft over each of the three alternative targets so that the final target could be selected in the last hour of flight. In case the delivery plane should reach the target and find visual bombing to be impossible, they thought it should return to its base with the bomb. The drop should be made with radar only if the plane could not otherwise return. Radar and navigational developments should be followed closely so that these conclusions could be altered, if desirable.

We all recognized that the plan to use visual bombing, with the possible long delays entailed, required that the bomb be so designed that it could be held for at least three weeks in a state of readiness that would permit its being dispatched on twelve hours’ notice. This was not considered too great a problem at the time, and later we could ignore it as it became obvious that we would normally have at least forty-eight hours’ notice of possible suitable weather.

It was generally agreed that if a plane in good condition had to return to base with the bomb, it would probably be able to make a normal landing. Frequent practice landings had been made with dummy bombs, some of them filled with high explosives. The committee advised that special training in landing with dummy units should be given to all plane crews who were to carry the bomb.

If the bomb had to be jettisoned, extreme care would have to be exercised. Under no circumstances should it be jettisoned near American-held territory. Prior to actual take-off, definite instructions would have to be furnished the weaponeer to guide him in case of trouble. Careful calculations and the experience gained by the Air Force in England from missions involving bombs as large as two thousand pounds indicated that there was no reason to fear for the safety of the bombing plane if its flight were properly controlled. Discussion of the possible radiological effects did indicate, however, that it would be unwise for any aircraft to be closer than two and a half miles to the burst. To provide protection against blast effects, a distance of five miles was advisable. Also, no plane should be permitted to fly through the radioactive clouds.

[…]

They had assumed that the atomic bomb would be handled like any other new weapon; that when it was ready for combat use it would be turned over to the commander in the field, and though he might be given a list of recommended targets, he would have complete freedom of action in every respect.

[…]

I had always assumed that operations in the field would be closely controlled from Washington, probably by General Marshall himself, with Mr. Stimson fully aware of and approving the plans. Naturally I expected that the President also would share in the control, not so much by making original decisions as by approving or disapproving the plans made by the War Department. It was quite evident by now, however, that the operation would not be formally considered and acted upon by either the Joint Chiefs of Staff or the Combined Chiefs. One of the reasons for this was the need to maintain complete security. Equally important, though, was Admiral Leahy’s disbelief in the weapon and its hoped-for effectiveness; this would have made action by the Joint Chiefs quite difficult.

When I had visited him in his office six or seven months before to show him a status report on the project, he told me of his long experience with explosives in the Navy and emphasized his belief that nothing extraordinary would come out of our work. He reminded me that no weapon developed during a war had ever been decisive in that war. Then he went on to say he was sorry that I was involved in the project as it would have been much better for me to have had a different and more usual assignment.

[…]

The cities that the Target Committee finally selected, and which I approved without exception, were:

Kokura Arsenal, one of the largest munitions plants in Japan, which was engaged in the manufacture of a wide variety of weapons and other defense materials. The arsenal covered an area of about four thousand by two thousand feet and was contiguous to railway yards, machine shops and electric power plants.

Hiroshima, a major port of embarkation for the Japanese Army and a convoy assembly point for their Navy. The city, in which the local Army headquarters, with some twenty-five thousand troops, was situated, was mainly concentrated on four islands. The railway yards, Army storage depots and port of embarkation lay along the eastern side of the city. A number of heavy industrial facilities were adjacent to the main metropolitan area.

Niigata, a port of growing importance on the Sea of Japan. It contained an aluminum reduction plant, and a very large ironworks, together with an important oil refinery and a tanker terminal.

Kyoto, an urban industrial area with a population of about one million inhabitants. It was the former capital of Japan, and many displaced persons and industries were moving into it as other areas were destroyed. Also, it was large enough to ensure that the damage from the bomb would run out within the city, which would give us a firm understanding of its destructive power.

[…]

When I went over the list for him, he immediately objected to Kyoto and said he would not approve it. When I suggested that he might change his mind after he had read the description of Kyoto and our reasons for considering it to be a desirable target, he replied that he was sure that he would not.

The reason for his objection was that Kyoto was the ancient capital of Japan, a historical city, and one that was of great religious significance to the Japanese. He had visited it when he was Governor General of the Philippines and had been very much impressed by its ancient culture.

I pointed out that it had a population of over a million; that any city of that size in Japan must be involved in a tremendous amount of war work even if there were but few large factories; and that the Japanese economy was to a great extent dependent on small shops, which in time of war turned out tremendous quantities of military items. To reinforce my argument, I read from the description of Kyoto,, included in my report, which had now arrived. I pointed out also that Kyoto included 26,446,000 square feet of plant area that had been identified and 19,496,000 square feet of plant area as yet unidentified. The city’s peacetime industries had all been converted to war purposes and were producing, among other items, machine tools, precision ordnance and aircraft parts, radio fire control and gun direction equipment. The industrial district occupied an area of one by three miles in the total built-up area of two and one-half by four miles.

Mr. Stimson was not satisfied, and without further ado walked over to the door of General Marshall’s office and asked him to come in. Without telling him how he had got the report from me, the Secretary said that he disagreed with my recommendation of Kyoto as a target, and explained why. General Marshall read the target description of each of the four cities, but he did not express too positive an opinion, though he did not disagree with Mr. Stimson. It was my impression that he believed it did not make too much difference either way.

[…]

In the course of our conversation he gradually developed the view that the decision should be governed by the historical position that the United States would occupy after the war. He felt very strongly that anything that would tend in any way to damage this position would be unfortunate.

On the other hand, I particularly wanted Kyoto as a target because, as I have said, it was large enough in area for us to gain complete knowledge of the effects of an atomic bomb. Hiroshima was not nearly so satisfactory in this respect. I also felt quite strongly, as had all the members of the Target Committee, that Kyoto was one of the most important military targets in Japan. Consequently, I continued on a number of occasions afterward to urge its inclusion, but Mr. Stimson was adamant.

[…]

Nothing is more illustrative of the relationship between Secretary Stimson and me than this episode. Never once did he express the slightest displeasure or annoyance over my repeated recommendations that Kyoto be returned to the list of targets. Nor did I ever feel that he wanted me to remain silent, once I had learned his views, on a matter of such great importance. I believe the affair was also typical of his attitude toward other senior officers.

Events have certainly borne out the wisdom of Mr. Stimson’s decision. I think, however, he did not foresee that much of the criticism he so scrupulously sought to avoid would come from American citizens; certainly he never mentioned this possibility to me. After the sudden ending of the war I was very glad that I had been overruled and that, through Mr. Stimson’s wisdom, the number of Japanese casualties had been greatly reduced.

There are four-hundred foreign submarines in the world, of which roughly 75% reside in the Indo-Pacific region

December 24th, 2025

South Korea has received President Trump’s blessing to become the seventh country in the world operating nuclear-powered submarines, joining the United States, Russia, China, France, the United Kingdom and India:

South Korea could more effectively counter North Korean or Chinese moves in the waters around the Korean Peninsula; and that would free up the US Navy’s nuclear-powered attack subs to concentrate on patrols in hot spots like the South China Sea and the waters around Taiwan.

[…]

Nuclear-powered submarines (SSNs) come with many advantages. They can stay submerged for long periods of time – essentially for years, if they can carry enough provisions for the crew – whereas most conventionally powered subs must surface for air to run diesel engines, which in turn charge their batteries for running at depth.

They are also generally faster than conventionally powered subs and are in many cases quieter.

Acquiring them has been a decades-long wish of the South Korean government.

But Seoul has faced a key roadblock: under a decades-old nuclear agreement with the US, it is not allowed to reprocess spent nuclear fuel, despite having the technology to do so.

[…]

“There are four-hundred foreign submarines in the world, of which roughly 75% reside in the Indo-Pacific region. One hundred and sixty of these submarines belong to China, Russia, and North Korea,” Davidson told the panel.

[…]

As of July 1, 2025, a US Navy website shows it had 49 attack subs in its fleet, which must cover all the world’s oceans. About two-thirds of that fleet is available to “surge” in an emergency, the acting chief of naval operations said last April, but fewer subs are out on patrol during routine operations.

[…]

“The core issue in Trump’s post was the mention of the Philly shipyard,” said Kim Dong-yeob, South Korean military expert and a professor at the Institute for Far Eastern Studies at Kyungman University.

“What we wanted was not simply to possess nuclear-powered submarines but to secure related technologies and achieve industrial effects through domestic construction,” Kim told CNN.

“Building at the Philly shipyard means losing technology transfer. It is essentially no different from buying weapons built in the US.”

[…]

Shugart, however, questions South Korea’s wish: “It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me from an operational perspective.”

“The primary benefit to nuclear-powered (submarines) is mainly speed, being able to go fast for a long period of time and cross long distances at a rapid clip,” Shugart said.

But “South Korea and Japan are right there where the action is likely to be,” he continued, adding that SSNs could make sense if Seoul’s intention was to carry out aggressive anti-submarine warfare.

A potential South Korean nuclear-powered sub could also exacerbate an arms race in the region. North Korea called South Korea’s pursuit of SSNs “a strategic move for its own nuclear weaponization,” despite Seoul clarifying that the submarine would not carry nuclear weapons.

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

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.

When it remains activated too long, it diverts the body’s resources from normal growth and development toward cellular defense

December 22nd, 2025

Dr. Robert Naviaux, a professor of medicine, pediatrics and pathology at UC San Diego School of Medicine, suggests that a built-in stress response, called the cell danger response (CDR), might explain autism:

The review pulls together more than ten years of research across genetics, metabolism, toxicology and early brain development.

[…]

The first hit is genetic predisposition: some children inherit a “sensitive genotype” that makes their mitochondria and cellular signaling systems highly reactive to environmental changes. These can range from specific genetic syndromes to a combination of common variants. On their own, these genetic traits do not cause autism, but they create biological hypersensitivity to stress.

The second hit occurs when the environment triggers this sensitivity. This happens during a critical window from early pregnancy through the first 18–36 months of life. Triggers can include maternal immune activation, pollution or metabolic stressors. In this model, early triggers push sensitive cells into a stress state at the wrong moment.

The third hit is when that stress state continues for months during late pregnancy or early childhood. Long periods of cellular stress are proposed to disturb normal brain development, reshape mitochondria and influence gut microbes and the immune system.

Across these three hits, one mechanism ties the model together: a signaling molecule called extracellular ATP (eATP), a molecule that acts as a “danger signal”. When eATP levels stay high, cells remain in a defensive mode rather than returning to normal growth. Naviaux argues that this is not a malfunction, but rather mitochondria responding exactly as designed to a perceived threat.

“Behavior has a chemical basis. The CDR regulates that chemistry,” Naviaux explained. “When it remains activated too long, it diverts the body’s resources from normal growth and development toward cellular defense, leaving fewer resources for the developing brain.”

The review explains that the CDR is part of a universal healing cycle called salugenesis; in autism, this cycle gets stuck, preventing the return to normal cellular function. This prolonged stress prevents the necessary developmental shift from excitatory to inhibitory signaling in the brain, leading to over-excitation.

This framework also explains why many autistic children experience physical symptoms such as gut issues or sleep disturbances – signs of a body-wide stress response.

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

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.

Each drone costs around $50,000

December 20th, 2025

A BBC defence correspondent in Kyiv reports on their secret missile factory:

We’re driven blindfolded to a secret location where Ukraine is making one of its latest weapons.

We’re told to turn off our phones — such is the secrecy around the production of Ukraine’s Flamingo cruise missile.

For Ukraine, dispersing and hiding the production of weapons like this is key to survival. Two factories belonging to the company that makes it — Fire Point — have already been hit.

Inside the one we’re visiting we’re told not to film any features such as pillars, windows or ceilings. We’re also asked not to show the faces of workers on the assembly line — where Flamingo missiles are at various stages of completion.

Even under fire, Ukraine is ramping up its arms industry. President Volodymyr Zelensky says the country now produces more than 50% of the weapons it uses on the front line. Almost its entire inventory of long-range weapons is domestically made.

[…]

The head of Ukraine’s Armed Forces, General Oleksandr Syrskyi, says Ukraine’s long-range strikes have already cost the Russian economy more than $21.5bn this year.

[…]

Of course Russia has been doing the same, and on a greater scale. On average it has been launching around 200 Shahed drones a day; Ukraine’s response has been about half that number.

[…]

Fire Point didn’t even exist before Russia’s full-scale invasion. But the start-up is now producing 200 drones a day. Its FP1 and FP2 drones, each the size of a small aeroplane, have carried out 60% of Ukraine’s long-range strikes. Each drone costs around $50,000 — a third of the price of a Russian Shahed drone. Russia is still producing nearly 3,000 of those a month.

[…]

Until the end of last year, under President Biden, the United States supplied nearly $70bn-worth of military support to Ukraine. That was soon stopped under President Trump — instead he has set up a scheme to allow European Nato to purchase US weapons.

Ukraine still needs outside help, not least with intelligence, targeting and money. But it is trying to be more self-sufficient.

German scientists did not support their country in the war effort

December 19th, 2025

Now It Can Be Told by Leslie M. GrovesIt was quite interesting, General Groves explains (in Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project), to watch the pattern of the total German scientific effort emerge:

I have always considered Goudsmit’s opinion much to the point: “On the whole, we gained the definite impression that German scientists did not support their country in the war effort. The principal thing was to obtain money from the government for their own researches, pretending that they might be of value to the war effort. One genuine selling point which they used extensively was that pure research in Germany in many fields was far behind the United States.”

Although most of our objectives in Germany lay in the French zone of advance, one that was particularly important to us — the Auer-gesellschaft Works in Oranienburg, about fifteen miles north of Berlin — lay in what was to be the Russian zone. The information that Alsos had uncovered in Strasbourg had confirmed our earlier suspicions that the plant was engaged in the manufacture of thorium and uranium metals which were to be used in the production of atomic energy and hence probably for the manufacture of an atomic bomb. Since there was not even the remotest possibility that Alsos could seize the works I recommended to General Marshall that the plant be destroyed by air attack.

When he approved, I sent Major F. J. Smith, of my office, to explain the mission to General Carl Spaatz, who was then in command of our Strategic Air Forces in Europe. Spaatz co-operated wholeheartedly and, in a period of about thirty minutes during the afternoon of March 15, 612 Flying Fortresses of the Eighth Air Force dropped 1,506 tons of high explosives and 178 tons of incendiary bombs on the target. Poststrike analysis indicated that all parts of the plant that were aboveground had been completely destroyed. Our purpose in attacking Oranienburg was screened from Russians and Germans alike by a simultaneous and equally heavy attack upon the small town of Zossen, where the German Army’s headquarters were situated. I have since learned that as an entirely unexpected bonus the Zossen raid incapacitated General Guderian, then Chief of the German General Staff.

[…]

[T]he experimental uranium pile at Berlin Dahlem had been removed to Haigerloch, another small town near Hechingen. They reported a shortage of heavy water, explaining that their only source of it had been in Norway. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place at last.

Bothe disclosed that the total German effort on atomic physics had consisted of himself and three helpers: Heisenberg with ten men; Dopel in Leipzig, assisted by his wife; Kirchner in Garmisch with possibly two assistants; and Stetter in Vienna with four or five others. Hahn, he said, was engaged in work on chemical problems.

The Heidelberg group told us that Gerlach’s approval was required before any physicist could obtain the means for scientific work. If he wanted the highest priority rating, called DE, he had to have the additional approval of Albert Speer, Minister of Armaments and Munitions.

Later, Bothe expressed his belief that the separation of uranium isotopes by thermal diffusion was impossible and indicated that the only work on isotope separation being done in Germany involved the centrifugal method. He added that this work was under the direction of Dr. Harteck. Bothe said he knew of no element higher than 93, although he recognized that since element 93 was a beta emitter, 94 must exist. He repeatedly expressed his opinion that the uranium pile as a source of energy was decades away and that the use of uranium as an explosive was altogether impracticable. He claimed not to know of any theoretical or experimental work being done in Germany on the military applications of atomic fission, but he agreed that such work could be under way without his knowledge.

After repeated questioning about the military value of the cyclotron, Bothe admitted that it had been regarded as a means for obtaining radioactive material for bombs.

[…]

Some of his personal letters, however, did cast doubts upon his assertion that he knew nothing of the work being done at Bisingen and Sigmaringen. From other sources, the interrogators learned that Bothe had returned a considerable quantity of uranium to Degussa after he had no further use for it.

Kuhn was present throughout Bothe’s interrogation. When it was over, he called one of the Alsos men aside and told him about the technical and scientific library of the German Chemical Society, of which he was the custodian. He claimed that it was the best of its kind in the world and included accounts of most of the German chemical activities in the war. To avoid the risks of heavy bombing, the library had been concealed in a number of caves and eventually was moved to a salt mine. Quite evidently, Kuhn preferred to have it taken over by the Americans rather than by the Russians. Unfortunately, it was behind the Russian lines.

[…]

Gertner said that he had worked with Joliot in Paris, from September of 1940 to July of 1943. He and Joliot, who had been close friends, had discussed the possibility of an atomic bomb and they had agreed that its development was not feasible.

[…]

He had reached the conclusion that it would be impossible to develop an atomic bomb because of the difficulties involved in separating isotopes. He further believed that, of all the separation methods, the centrifuge process offered the best prospects of success, but the low production rates that had been achieved by that method appeared to rule it out.

[…]

At about this time a major problem arose in Washington. The division of Germany into three zones of occupation had been arranged at Yalta. Later, when it was decided to establish a fourth zone to be occupied by the French, the readjustment of the American zone’s boundaries was handled by a committee of representatives of the State Department and of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. All the information that had been developed by Alsos indicated that the principal German work on atomic energy was being conducted in the general area Freiburg-Stuttgart-Ulm-Friedrichshafen, a large part of which would be turned over to the French. Hechingen lay near the center of this area and was in the French Army’s zone of advance, far removed from the zone of any American unit.

As I saw it, there could be no question but that American troops must be the first to arrive at this vital installation, for it was of the utmost importance to the United States that we control the entire area that contained the German atomic energy activities.

[…]

Consequently, I was forced to initiate some drastic measures to accomplish our purpose. One of these became known as Operation Harborage.

According to this plan, American troops would have to get into and hold the area long enough for us to capture the people we wanted, question them, seize and remove their records, and obliterate all remaining facilities, for my recent experiences with Joliot had convinced me that nothing that might be of interest to the Russians should ever be allowed to fall into French hands. Having reached this conclusion, I discussed the matter with Secretary Stimson and General Marshall together. After I had outlined briefly what I wanted, and we had considered the possible value of the information we might gather, we all turned to the big wall map in the Secretary’s office. To my great embarrassment, I was unable to find Hechingen on this map, and both the Secretary and the Chief of Staff were equally unsuccessful. Finally, Mr. Stimson summoned his aide, Colonel William H. Kyle, who succeeded eventually in locating our target at the bottom of the map, not more than two feet above the floor. If a photographer had been present at that time when the four of us were almost on our hands and knees, gazing intently at this point barely off the floor, he might well have caught one of World War II’s more interesting photographs.

A short discussion followed, during which General Marshall asked me how I would ensure the capture of our objectives. I suggested that the necessary American troops, possibly as much as a reinforced corps, should cut diagonally across the advancing French front. Marshall agreed and sent for Major General J. E. Hull, Head of the Operations Division, War Department, General Staff, telling him to issue instructions to General Eisenhower that would take care of our requirements.

[…]

Since the war, I have had occasion to discuss Operation Harborage and other Alsos operations with a number of the officers who were involved. In the course of these discussions, I have made it a point to tell them how much I always appreciated the co-operation given my representatives throughout the European Theater, when the only justification that they had for their apparently outlandish requests were simple memoranda addressed “To Whom It May Concern,” signed by either Secretary Stimson, General Marshall, or in a few cases by Colonel Frank McCarthy, the Secretary of the General Staff, and stating that their mission was of the utmost importance and that the Secretary of War would appreciate any assistance that could be rendered. Invariably, I have been told that it was not a case of kindness on the part of anyone in the European Theater, for these letters were most unusual and they realized that the matters involved must be of paramount importance. But over and above this, I have always felt great pride and pleasure upon hearing from these same commanders that while my officers were far from high-ranking, they were obviously of such ability and so convinced of the importance of their mission and the strength of their backing that they would have accomplished their missions no matter what obstacles stood in their way.

[…]

The WIFO plant was seized quickly and without incident. It was in a terrible condition from repeated bombings, but fortunately the manager had stayed on the job. Hidden in his house was an inventory of the plant’s property, which showed the whereabouts of the missing ore. Approximately eleven hundred tons of it were soon found stored in barrels under open sheds above-ground.

Most of the barrels were either broken or rotten, and it was obvious that the ore would have to be repacked before it could be moved. Complicating the problem was the fact that there were still many German units in the area. Fortune smiled upon Lansdale’s group again when the CIC agents found a barrel factory close at hand. The owner of the plant, who was also the local burgomaster, was soon prevailed upon to round up a sufficient number of laborers and to resume operations. During the next two weeks, with Agent Schriver in charge, and while under intermittent enemy fire, this factory turned out about twenty thousand fruit barrels.

Lansdale, in the meantime, had gone back to SHAEF, where he saw General Smith, and procured the services of a truck company. Trucks were in great demand at this period and the men, all Negroes with one white lieutenant, were exhausted from lack of sleep. They were further handicapped by being far from their normal maintenance bases. Nevertheless, they performed splendidly, and with the use of forced labor to repack and load the ore, the entire tonnage was removed during three days and nights to an airport hangar at Hildes-heim, near Hanover, well behind the Allied lines. A small amount of the ore was lost en route because of the number of truck ditchings caused by the extremely rough roads.

[…]

Observing the ore’s hue and noting that it was escorted by Hambro, a member of a well-known London banking family, many of the British were convinced that it was gold.

From Hanover, a considerable tonnage was moved by air to England. There was too much, however, to carry all of it in this manner, so arrangements were made to move the remainder by rail to Antwerp about two hundred miles away, and thence by ship to England. The precautions for insuring its delivery proved inadequate and somewhere along the line, probably in a switching yard, three cars disappeared, but after an intensive search, Agent Schriver found them, much to our relief.

From England, the ore was sent over to the United States.

[…]

It was becoming apparent that there were two groups in Germany working on the uranium pile, the first under Diebner at Frankfurt and the second under Heisenberg. Heisenberg’s group had been started in 1939 as a co-operative project of the most important physicists in Germany, with headquarters at the Institute of Physics in Berlin. There had been a certain amount of competition between the two groups, and quarrels over who would get materials continued even after all research had been officially consolidated under Gerlach. In Gertner’s opinion, the work done under Diebner was not so good as that over which Heisenberg had supervision.

Having pretty well exhausted its Heidelberg sources, Alsos next turned its attention to the Frankfurt area, where the uranium metal required by the German project had been produced. It found there that the degrees of purity achieved were not particularly high.

Following closely behind the advancing American front, on April 12, Alsos moved in and seized Diebner’s laboratory and offices, which were located in an old schoolhouse. Pash’s people found, however, that the majority of the scientists, together with most of their documents, materials and equipment, had been evacuated on April 8, to carry on their work elsewhere. Nevertheless they picked up some uranium oxide, various pieces of equipment, an extensive physics laboratory and many files. From these last it appeared that Germany’s military interest had been aroused in early 1940 by the experiments of Hahn and Strassman. It had been suggested then that uranium could be used to form an explosive, as well as to serve as a source of energy. Work to this end had been started by Heisen-berg’s group in Berlin, using uranium ore from Joachimsthal, which had been transformed into powdered U-238. This attempt at making a pile, however, was unsuccessful, primarily, I believe, because of the clumsiness of the experimental equipment. Heisenberg’s group continued experiments with their apparatus until about the end of 1941, always with negative results. In spite of their failures, Heisen-berg and von Weizsäxcker calculated that by making a number of modifications to their equipment a self-sustaining pile could be built. The work was transferred to Leipzig, where, in 1942, a pile gave positive results, but was not self-sustaining. This led to the initiation late in 1942 of the so-called large-scale experiments at Berlin Dahlem. Finally, late in 1944, an exponential pile was constructed in Berlin. This, however, was what might be termed purely academic scientific experimentation.

[…]

Something had to be done, and, as usual, Pash did it. He asked for help, and General Harrison gave him operational control of the 1279th Engineer Combat Battalion. With this force he seized Haiger-loch on April 23 and immediately began dismantling the laboratory. Its major feature was the exponential pile, which had been brought there from Berlin in February and concealed in a tunnel under a high cliff. The Alsos detachment was greatly assisted by the arrival of a number of British scientists under the leadership of Sir Charles Hambro, and was able to complete its operations in Haigerloch before the French reached there.

In the meantime, Pash, with one company of the 1279th Engineers, moved on to Hechingen, which he captured on April 24. Efforts to take this town the night before had been strongly resisted, but the final attempt was virtually unopposed. Pash seized a large atomic physics laboratory and a number of the leading German physicists, including von Weizsäxcker and Wirtz.

The next morning he moved into Tailfingen, where they took over a large chemistry laboratory and captured Otto Hahn and Max von Laue. At Stadtilm, Alsos had found signed receipts for all the secret reports and documents that had been sent to the various scientists. But as the men were picked up, one by one, they all announced blandly that everything had been destroyed. Hahn, however, answered promptly, “I have them right here.”

The capture of Hahn was simple. A German on the street, when questioned, pointed the way to an old school building which contained his laboratory. After the school was surrounded by troops, F. A. C. Wardenburg and James Lane, both chemical engineers from du Pont and two of our Alsos scientific personnel, walked in and asked for Hahn. They were shown into his laboratory and started their interrogations. “It was just like a business call on a customer,” was their apt description. By now French Moroccan troops were in the area, yet the mission still had not found the German stores of heavy water and uranium oxide that had been used in the Haigerloch pile. Fortunately, the French were few in number, and the many German units scattered throughout the countryside kept them fully occupied while Alsos was getting its job done.

Skillful questioning of the German scientists by Goudsmit and his associates finally disclosed the hiding place of the heavy water and uranium and, on April 26, the heavy water was removed from the cellar of an old mill near Haigerloch and sent back to Paris. About one and a half tons of small metallic uranium cubes were dug up from a plowed field just outside the town. These, too, were quickly dispatched to Paris. Both water and uranium were then shipped to the U.S., to be disposed of by the Combined Development Trust.

On the twenty-seventh, the German scientists were taken to Heidelberg for further questioning, and later removed to Rheims. As they were in the act of leaving, von Weizsäxcker suddenly blurted out the information necessary to locate the still missing records of the German research programs. They were sealed in a metal drum, which had been deposited in the cesspool in back of von Weizsäxcker’s house.

By the end of April, Alsos was heavily engaged in mopping-up activities. Most of the material we wanted had been secured. A few important scientists — notably Heisenberg — still eluded us. But, generally, our principal concern at this point was to keep information and atomic scientists from falling into the hands of the Russians.

Self-help books for women vs. men aren’t selling the same story

December 18th, 2025

Self-help books for women vs. men aren’t selling the same story, Rob Henderson notes:

If you walk through the self-help section and compare the books marketed to men with those aimed at women, the contrast is striking. The books for men tend to emphasize stoicism, discipline, and self-sufficiency: become more focused, toughen up, don’t let the world knock you off your path, no one is coming to save you. The message is essentially that you need to strengthen yourself and earn your way forward.

The books for women, by contrast, rarely begin with the idea that you’re lacking something that needs to be built. Instead, the theme is closer to: you’re already great, but you keep getting in your own way. The world hasn’t recognized your value because you haven’t fully accepted it yourself. The promise is that once you stop beating yourself up and embrace who you already are, others will see it too.

Two very different messages — one built around improvement, the other around affirmation.

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

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.