Vulcan: God of Fire E-Book

Tim McLelland

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 499

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

Vulcan: God of Fire is a historical account of Britain's nuclear deterrent force, the development of atomic/thermonuclear weapons and the bombers. It includes a description of the design, development and manufacture of the Vulcan, the flight testing programme and entry into RAF service. There is also a full account of the Vulcan's career, including its primary role as a nuclear bomber and as a key participant in the 1982 Falklands conflict. Further coverage includes the use of the Vulcan as a refuelling tanker and reconnaissance platform, and the recent project to restore a Vulcan to flying condition, funded by the National Lottery Fund. Historical information is combined with first-hand accounts from former air and ground crews, and a full description of the service history/disposal of every Vulcan aircraft manufactured.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Title Page

Introduction

1 The Bomb

2 Atomic Warfare

3 Building the Bomber

4 Delta Wings

5 Airborne

6 Setbacks

7 Atlantic Alliances

8 Megaton Might

9 Low Level

10 Into Action

11 Beyond the End

Appendix 1 Vulcan Production List

Appendix 2 Vulcan Squadrons

Plate Section

Copyright

INTRODUCTION

Britain’s long history of innovative military aircraft design and construction has produced some truly outstanding designs. Often driven by the expediencies of war, classic aircraft such as the Spitfire and Lancaster have become familiar names in the nation’s vocabulary. It would be fair to say that it is these (and other) aircraft from the days of the Second World War that have become the most familiar icons. The decades which followed certainly produced a wider range of exciting and unusual aircraft that generated a great deal of attention whenever they emerged, but they inevitably faded into history as even more advanced and capable machines replaced them. However, one aircraft could perhaps be described as a true exception. Its unorthodox, graceful lines were somehow merged with a menacing stature belying its true purpose. Although designed for warfare, it captured the imagination and emotions of almost everyone who saw it. Built not for beauty, this sleek, shining machine was created to kill. It was a wholesale murderer, a true weapon of mass destruction.

Avro 698 prototype VX770 pictured over Hampshire en route to the Farnborough SBAC show. (BAE)

1

THE BOMB

During the dark, austere years immediately after the Second World War the euphoria of wartime victory did not last for long. There was little to celebrate in Britain. Food rationing was still a daily source of misery for every household across the land and the government struggled to rebuild a nation that had been crippled both emotionally and financially. The war with Germany was over and the brutal war with Japan had been brought to a dramatic conclusion, but there was no sense of peace or security to comfort Britain’s long-suffering citizens while the country slowly began the task of rebuilding itself. A new threat had emerged and it held a menacing promise of more misery and more warfare. The Soviet Union might have been a wartime ally, but it quickly became obvious that Stalin’s friendship had been only a temporary convenience that had swiftly turned sour, and as the joy of Japan’s surrender slowly faded into history, Britain was faced with a future that often looked even more terrifying than the grim days of the Second World War. The Soviet Union’s increasingly aggressive attitude could not be separated from the very clear knowledge that if Britain and her allies were forced into another military confrontation, such a war would not merely be a question of achieving victory. This time, the inevitable outcome would be complete devastation for both the victor and vanquished. Britain had entered the nuclear age.

It was against this background that the Vulcan bomber was created. British industry’s output of fighting machines for the Royal Air Force – which had begun as a result of Britain’s first conflict with Germany – reached a peak of excellence during the Second World War. In addition to the creation of classic fighter aircraft such as the Spitfire and Hurricane, a whole series of bombers had been designed and manufactured, all of which were vital to Britain’s efforts to take the war back to skies over Germany. In this field the immortal Avro Lancaster represented the pinnacle of Britain’s technical expertise, but as the Second World War reached its conclusion, even the mighty Lancaster was already beginning to show signs of obsolescence. During the 1940s designs emerged with remarkable speed and by the time that the Second World War ended, America had already created the superlative Boeing B–29 Superfortress, which had demonstrated its potential over Japan. However, with meagre resources and a stifling lack of forward thinking, Britain’s offensive capabilities diminished with astonishing speed. The Royal Air Force was destined to replace its Lancaster, Halifax and Stirling bombers with the Lincoln, an aircraft that was, in effect, little more than an improved version of the Lancaster. However, circumstances quickly shaped the RAF’s future and the lumbering Lincoln was in fact the last of a distinguished line of piston-engined bombers. The jet age had dawned and it was inevitable that this new technology would enable the RAF to re-equip with fighters and bombers that would achieve speeds and altitudes almost beyond imagination just a few years previously. Indeed, the jet engine would ultimately lead to the creation of a completely new RAF bomber that would represent a seismic shift in technology and thinking, a radical new design that was so revolutionary and advanced that it often seemed like an impossible dream. But the dream was, in fact, a nightmare. Britain’s new bomber would be designed to perform only one mission against only one target. It would be tasked with the carriage and delivery of just one, deadly, atomic bomb.

To understand the reasons why and how the Vulcan bomber was created, it is important to understand the circumstances that prevailed at the time of the project’s conception. Unlike any other British bombers that preceded it, the Vulcan and the V-force was inextricably linked to a specific weapon and one fundamental role. The aircraft and the weapon it was designed to carry were equal parts of one incredibly expensive project on which Britain’s very existence effectively relied.

Oddly, the full story of the Vulcan requires some knowledge of the complicated world of particle physics. The tale begins with Otto Frisch, an Austrian scientist who was engaged in studies at the Institute of Theoretical Physics in Copenhagen (he’d been forced to leave Nazi Germany because of his nationality). He was invited to relocate to England in order to continue his molecular physics studies at the University of Birmingham. Having worked in Denmark under the leadership of fellow physicist Niels Bohr, he had established the basic principles of what became known as nuclear fission while spending a Christmas holiday with Lise Meitner (who happened to be his aunt), herself a respected scientist who had been conducting experiments with two other physicists, Otto Hahn and Fritz Strassman. Together, they had produced a detailed report, which had described how barium was created as a result of the collision of uranium nuclei and neutrons. They made a series of tests and with calculations based on the first report, Frisch and Meitner concluded that in order to have created barium, somewhere in the microscopic process the impact of a neutron upon a uranium atom must have actually elongated the shape of its nucleus. Nuclei contain protons that (because of their electrical charge) normally try to repel each other, but strong surface tension normally holds these protons together. Frisch and Meitner discovered that if the nucleus became elongated into a ‘peanut’ shape, it ought to enable the electrical forces to overcome this surface tension, allowing the nucleus to split into two similarly sized portions. Frisch concluded that this must have been what had actually happened and he described this theory as ‘nuclear fission’. However, this in itself was not the most important point. He also calculated that the mass of the two halves created by the fission process was slightly less than that of the original nucleus, and this tiny shortfall of mass therefore represented (if Einstein’s theories were correct) an output of energy produced during the creation of the two fragments. Frisch and Meitner calculated that even though the actual amount of energy involved in this fission process would obviously be only microscopic in size, in proportional terms it would be ‘surprisingly large’. They had discovered the fundamentals of nuclear power.

Physicist Niels Bohr continued to investigate the new research data and his experiments led him to conclude that this uranium fission process was created by the presence of uranium 235, a rare isotope that is present in relatively small quantities within the more common uranium 238 that every chemistry student is familiar with. Bohr established that during the fission process, secondary neutrons were created and if these same neutrons were then able to initiate further fissions, a self-sustaining ‘chain reaction’ would then occur, creating more and more fission and, therefore, a huge release of energy. As the process applied only to the rare uranium 235, this chain reaction process never occurred naturally, either because of the slow rate of radioactive decay or because of the isotope’s relative scarcity when compared to the more common uranium 238 isotope (it normally occurs at a rate of little more than just one in 140 parts). Frisch agreed with this conclusion, but he couldn’t help wondering just how much uranium 235 would actually be needed to start this theoretical chain-reaction process. Working with Rudolf Peierls (Professor of Physics at Birmingham University), Frisch was astonished to find that the required amount was remarkably small (‘only about a pound’ he subsequently recalled).

Clearly, this discovery had great potential and could form the basis of a very efficient source of power if the basic theory was correct and the process could be translated into a practical application. Although their thoughts inevitably turned towards the possibilities of creating what could be an almost limitless source of commercial power, they also suddenly realised that the concept would also have a more sinister potential. Frisch and Peierls submitted their research to Henry Tizard, who at that time was Chairman of the Committee on the Scientific Survey of Air Defence. It is ironic to note that Tizard had recently championed the development and introduction of radar, a subject that both Frisch and Peierls had also been keen to explore, but they had been forbidden to study it at the University of Birmingham, because of their nationalities. It was fortuitous that no such restrictions had been placed on the study of particle physics. However, their report was given to Tizard in March 1940 and it outlined a number of important issues:

The attached detailed report concerns the possibility of constructing a ‘super bomb’ which utilises the energy stored in atomic nuclei as a source of energy. The energy liberated in the explosion of such a super bomb is about the same as that produced by the explosion of 1,000 tons of dynamite. This energy is liberated in a small volume in which it will, for an instant, produce a temperature comparable to that in the interior of the sun. The blast from such an explosion would destroy life in a wide area. The size of this area is difficult to estimate, but it will probably cover the centre of a big city. In addition, some part of the energy set free by the bomb goes to produce radioactive substances, and these will emit very powerful and dangerous radiations. The effect of these radiations is greatest immediately after the explosion, but it decays only gradually and even for days after the explosion any person entering the affected area will be killed. Some of this radioactivity will be carried along with the wind and will spread the contamination; several miles downwind this may kill people.

Perhaps understandably, Tizard was both excited and impressed by the findings and he immediately made arrangements to set up a committee to explore the matter in more detail. Meeting for the first time in April 1940, this ‘Maud Committee’ (the unusual code name was derived from Maud Rey, the former governess of Niels Bohr’s children) explored the findings thoroughly, and tried to establish whether the discovery could possibly be translated into some form of destructive power. Their revised 1941 report included the following remarks:

Work to investigate the possibilities of utilizing the atomic energy of uranium for military purposes has been in progress since 1939, and a stage has now been reached when it seems desirable to report progress. We should like to emphasise at the beginning of this report that we entered the project with more scepticism than belief, though we felt it was a matter which had to be investigated. As we proceeded we became more and more convinced that release of atomic energy on a large scale is possible and that conditions can be chosen which would make it a very powerful weapon of war. We have now reached the conclusion that it will be possible to make an effective uranium bomb which, containing some 25lb of active material, would be equivalent as regards destructive effect to 1,800 tons of TNT and would also release large quantities of radioactive substance, which would make places near to where the bomb exploded dangerous to human life for a long period. The bomb would be composed of an active constituent (referred to in what follows as U) present to the extent of about a part in 140 in ordinary uranium. Owing to the very small difference in properties (other than explosive) between this substance and the rest of the uranium, its extraction is a matter of great difficulty and a plant to produce 2–4lb per day (or three bombs per month) is estimated to cost approximately £95,000,000, of which sum a considerable proportion would be spent on engineering, requiring labour of the same highly skilled character as is needed for making turbines.

Classic Charles Brown photograph of the Avro 698 prototype VX770. Brown photographed the aircraft from the rear turret of a Lancaster. (BAE)

In spite of this very large expenditure we consider that the destructive effect, both material and moral, is so great that every effort should be made to produce bombs of this kind. As regards the time required we estimate that the material for the first bomb could be ready by the end of 1943. This of course assumes that no major difficulty of an entirely unforeseen character arises. Even if the war should end before the bombs are ready the effort would not be wasted, except in the unlikely event of complete disarmament, since no nation would care to risk being caught without a weapon of such decisive possibilities.

The mighty Vulcan thrilled air show spectators for more than three decades. Four Waddington-based aircraft are pictured here performing a scramble demonstration from RAF Finningley in 1982. (Tim McLelland collection)

This type of bomb is possible because of the enormous store of energy resident in atoms and because of the special properties of the active constituent of uranium. The explosion is very different in its mechanism from the ordinary chemical explosion, for it can occur only if the quantity of U is greater than a certain critical amount. Quantities of the material less than the critical amount are quite stable. Such quantities are therefore perfectly safe and this is a point which we wish to emphasise. On the other hand, if the amount of material exceeds the critical value it is unstable and a reaction will develop and multiply itself with enormous rapidity, resulting in an explosion of unprecedented violence. Thus all that is necessary to detonate the bomb is to bring together two pieces of the active material, each less than the critical size, but which, when in contact, form a mass exceeding it.

In order to achieve the greatest efficiency in an explosion of this type, it is necessary to bring the two halves together at high velocity and it is proposed to do this by firing them together with charges of ordinary explosive in a form of double gun. The weight of this gun will of course greatly exceed the weight of the bomb itself, but should not be more than one ton, and it would certainly be within the carrying capacity of a modern bomber. It is suggested that the bomb (contained in the gun) should be dropped by parachute and the gun should be fired by means of a percussion device when it hits the ground. The time of drop can be made long enough to allow the aeroplane to escape from the danger zone and as this is very large, great accuracy of aim is not required. Although the cost per lb. of this explosive is so great, it compares very favourably with ordinary explosives when reckoned in terms of energy released and damage done. It is, in fact considerably cheaper, but the points which we regard as of overwhelming importance are the concentrated destruction which it would produce, the large moral effect, and the saving in air effort the use of this substance would allow, as compared with bombing with ordinary explosives.

One outstanding difficulty of the scheme is that the main principle cannot be tested on a small scale. Even to produce a bomb of the minimum critical size would involve a great expenditure of time and money. We are, however, convinced that the principle is correct, and while there is still some uncertainty as to the critical size it is most unlikely that the best estimate we can make is so far in error as to invalidate the general conclusions. We feel that the present evidence is sufficient to justify the scheme being strongly pressed. It will be seen from the foregoing that a stage in the work has now been reached at which it is important that a decision should be made as to whether the work is to be continued on the increasing scale which would be necessary if we are to hope for it as an effective weapon for this war. Any considerable delay now would retard by an equivalent amount the date by which the weapon could come into effect. We are informed that while the Americans are working on the uranium problem, the bulk of their effort has been directed to the production of energy, as discussed in our report on uranium as a source of power, rather than to the production of a bomb. We are in fact co-operating with the United States to the extent of exchanging information, and they have undertaken one or two pieces of laboratory work for us. We feel that it is important and desirable that development work should proceed on both sides of the Atlantic irrespective of where it may be finally decided to locate the plant for separating the uranium, and for this purpose it seems desirable that certain members of the committee should visit the United States. We are informed that such a visit would be welcomed by the members of the United States committees which are dealing with this matter.

The three V-bomber types together, in a rarely seen formation, with a Victor B1 to starboard, a Valiant B1 to port and a Vulcan B1 in the lead position. (Tim McLelland collection)

His comments referring to the British working in close co-operation with the USA were certainly true at that time. British scientists were co-operating freely with their American counterparts on all aspects of the new discovery; in fact, Niels Bohr was actually sailing to New York as he made his calculations to confirm the Frisch-Meitner findings, during 1939. The Maud Committee concluded that the nuclear fission process did show great potential and if the theories could be developed into hardware, it would enable Britain to manufacture a completely new weapon which might have a decisive role in the war with Germany (there was, at this time, no question of using such a weapon against any other country). Many years later Frisch said that he had:

HMS Plym pictured shortly before Penney’s team detonated Britain’s first atomic device on board. (Tim McLelland collection)

Operation Hurricane’s impressive cloud of debris, just seconds after detonation. (Tim McLelland collection)

… often been asked why I didn’t abandon the project there and then, saying nothing to anybody. Why start on a project which, if it was successful, would end with the production of a weapon of unparalleled violence, a weapon of mass destruction such as the world had never seen? The answer is very simple. We were at war, and the idea was reasonably obvious. Very probably some German scientists had had the same idea and were working on it too.

Frisch’s comments held some truth, since there was plenty of evidence to suggest that Germany was indeed showing great interest in the same theory. A group of Paris-based scientists working on similar fission studies had concluded that if the rapid progress of the theoretical chain reaction was to be slowed to a controllable level, a moderating substance would be required and that ‘heavy water’ (deuterium oxide) would be the ideal medium. The only known source of heavy water at that time was a hydroelectric station at Vemork in Norway, and Germany had already offered to buy the entire Norwegian stock of heavy water. This was clear evidence that Germany was well aware of the potential of the fission process, and that Hitler’s scientists were already putting a great deal of effort into the creation of an atomic weapon.

During the infamous summer of 1940 Britain was in the grip of a bloody war with Nazi Germany and the United States was still maintaining an absurdly neutral position, both towards the war and the UK itself. Britain’s future began to look increasingly bleak, and governmental eyes inevitably looked across the Atlantic to America’s vast industrial resources. Tizard proposed what essentially became a ‘trade mission’ to give America access to a range of British technological developments in exchange for access to America’s industrial know-how and resources. Mutual exchange certainly wasn’t a new idea, although the true benefits of such exchanges had always been difficult to pinpoint and Churchill firmly believed that the idea would probably do Britain more harm than good, but Tizard (rather naively) believed that by giving technological information to the US on an unconditional basis, some vital co-operation would be given in return. It was a risky proposal that illustrated the desperate situation Britain had found itself in. A whole catalogue of scientific data was duly handed over, which included some incredibly significant developments such as Whittle’s revolutionary jet engine, the cavity magnetron (which was fundamental to the development of radar) and much more besides. It was a gift that America certainly hadn’t been expecting and one that it naturally accepted with surprise and glee. The Frisch-Peierls memorandum was only part of the mission’s range of topics that Tizard brought to the Americans, but in retrospect it was arguably the most important, even though it probably didn’t seem quite so significant at the time. The whole saga was surrounded by controversy and great debate, many officials in the UK (including Churchill himself) being set firmly against Tizard’s well-meaning efforts and, as many had feared, the result was a distinctly lukewarm response from the US, which certainly gave Britain very little of value. It was probably no coincidence that Tizard found himself without a job when he returned to the UK. However, the visit did eventually have some unforeseen and far-reaching effects and ultimately laid the foundations of the ‘special relationship’ between the US and Britain which still survives (in various degrees of intimacy) to this day.

The British government was, of course, wholly wrapped up in its battle with Germany and its relationship with America, therefore it is hardly surprising that in September 1940 there was no reason to imagine that there was any risk of vital scientific data finding its was to the USSR. In fact, most of the Maud Committee’s findings had already made their way across Europe a whole month previously, thanks to a network of Soviet agents. Nevertheless, Britain remained ignorant of this vital development for a long time and across the Atlantic there was even less inclination to imagine that the vital secrets of atomic physics were systematically being delivered into Stalin’s hands. The US government invited the Tizard delegation to visit Columbia University in order to discuss the Frisch-Peierls memorandum with Enrico Fermi, a respected Italian physicist who was also investigating aspects of the newly discovered fission process. Fermi later recalled that in January 1939 he had started working on rapidly emerging data, at the Pupin Laboratories:

Rare photograph of the Blue Danube bomb. The scientist pictured next to the weapon illustrates the huge size of the bomb carcass. It was this which directly led to the dimensions of the Vulcan’s bomb bay and the overall size of the aircraft. (AWRE)

In that period, Niels Bohr was on a lecture engagement at the Princeton University and I remember one afternoon Willis Lamb came back very excited and said that Bohr had leaked out great news. The great news that had leaked out was the discovery of fission and at least the outline of its interpretation. Then, somewhat later that same month, there was a meeting in Washington where the possible importance of the newly discovered phenomenon of fission was first discussed in semi-jocular earnest as a possible source of nuclear power.

At the time when Tizard’s delegation met with Fermi, the Italian was still clearly looking at fission as a source of commercial power rather than as a potential weapon, even though other physicists had already reached much darker conclusions. For example, in October 1939 a group of scientists had delivered a letter (signed by Albert Einstein) to President Roosevelt, warning that:

This Avro drawing illustrates how the company proposed a swept-wing design to meet the preliminary AR.230 specification (which was subsequently dropped). The same concept was carried over to the B.35/46 specification. (BAE)

In the course of the last four months it has been made probable, through the work of Joliot in France as well as Fermi and Szilard in America, that it may become possible to set up a nuclear chain reaction in a large mass of uranium, by which vast amounts of power and large quantities of new radium-like elements would be generated. Now it appears almost certain that this could be achieved in the immediate future. This new phenomenon would also lead to the construction of bombs, and it is conceivable, though much less certain, that extremely powerful bombs of a new type may thus be constructed. A single bomb of this type, carried by boat and exploded in a port, might very well destroy the whole port together with some of the surrounding territory. However, such bombs might very well prove to be too heavy for transportation by air.

Fermi was interested only in the peaceful potential of nuclear power (through the creation of turbine steam) and even though the military potential of nuclear fission was obvious, he remained sceptical of the Frisch-Peierls memorandum and further developments stagnated after Tizard’s delegation returned to the UK. No further progress was made until Mark Oliphant (Professor of Physics at the University of Birmingham) made another trip to the United States, this time in August 1941, to try to establish why there had been such an inexplicable lack of progress, particularly in terms of developing some sort of atomic bomb. It was explained that a government committee had duly been set up to investigate fission research but (perhaps because of Fermi’s influence) they appeared to have simply ignored the findings of the Maud Committee. Oliphant subsequently recalled that:

The minutes and reports had been sent to Lyman Briggs, who was the Director of the Uranium Committee, and we were puzzled to receive virtually no comment. I called on Briggs in Washington, only to find out that this inarticulate and unimpressive man had put the reports in his safe and had not shown them to members of his committee. I was amazed and distressed.

Oliphant was disheartened, but he proceeded to meet with the government’s Uranium Committee, as committee member Samuel Allison recalled:

Oliphant came to a meeting, and said ‘bomb’ in no uncertain terms. He told us we must concentrate every effort on the bomb and said we had no right to work on powerplants or anything but the bomb. The bomb would cost 25 million dollars, he said, and Britain did not have the money or the manpower, so it was up to us.

Finally, Columbia University was awarded a grant of some $6,000 (although the money was not released until the spring of 1940 because of governmental concerns, centred on a belief that ‘foreigners’ would be conducting the research), but Fermi now had the means to construct the very first atomic pile at Stagg Field in Chicago, which finally went critical (i.e. a controlled uranium chain reaction was allowed to begin) on 2 December 1942.

Despite this pivotal development, American interest in the prospect of fission power was still distinctly half-hearted and the possibility of using the technology to produce a bomb seemed as unlikely as it ever had. America was not at war, even though Europe most certainly was. Interest in the concept of an atomic bomb was still very much in the hands of the scientists and it was their continued pressure that eventually led to some solid progress. Vannevar Bush (Director of the Office of Scientific Research and Development) finally convinced Roosevelt (during October 1941) to conduct a fully funded effort to build an atomic weapon. The combination of scientific pressure, the previously overlooked Maud report and the clear possibility of ultimately entering into a war was finally enough to push America into taking action. A new committee was set up to oversee the project and report to the president, meeting for the very first time just one day before Japanese forces attacked Pearl Harbor and the United States finally entered the Second World War.

Roosevelt then wrote to Churchill, suggesting that efforts to develop an atomic bomb should be ‘co-ordinated or even jointly conducted’ but much to Roosevelt’s surprise, Churchill was less than enthusiastic. It seems absurd that after so much effort to pursue a bomb project, Britain was now evidently reluctant to co-operate with America, but this seems to have been because Churchill and his advisors grossly underestimated the cost and complexity of the project laid before them. A distinct ‘go it alone’ attitude prevailed, although when British scientists visited the US early in 1942 and were afforded full access to information which was then available, they were astounded by the rapid progress that was being made, especially in comparison to developments back in Britain.

Britain’s position became increasingly difficult when the complexities and cost of atomic research eventually became much clearer. The British programme (code-named as the Tube Alloys Project) soon indicated to the government that full co-operation with America would be the only practical way to proceed, but by the time that Britain had reached this conclusion, America’s research and development had moved far ahead of Britain’s, which effectively meant that there was no longer any obvious advantage for America in sharing its knowledge. Worse still for Britain, the US Army had now taken over control of virtually all aspects of the US programme (as the Manhattan Project) and so all sources of information quickly dried up. The situation was finally resolved through a series of diplomatic meetings that were assisted by Roosevelt’s personal inclination towards a more co-operative stance. He rightly accepted that while American concerns over releases of information were largely based on potential post-war commercial use of atomic power (which America clearly identified as an asset which should remain in its hands), Britain’s interest was chiefly in the creation of an atomic bomb. When Churchill assured Roosevelt that this was indeed the case (and that Britain had no direct interest in obtaining America’s data on nuclear power development), the situation was soon resolved and a joint agreement between the countries was signed by Roosevelt and Churchill on 19 August 1943 (the Quebec Agreement), including the following stipulations:

Bob Lindley’s sketch gives a good impression of how the Vulcan’s unique shape first emerged. This was Lindley’s original idea, which was proposed to Roy Chadwick and subsequently developed into the Avro 698 design. (BAE)

The precise origins of this drawing remain unclear, but it is assumed to have been produced by Roy Chadwick at the very beginning of the 698 project. It illustrates the original interest in a simple flying wing design. (BAE)

Articles of Agreement Governing Collaboration Between The Authorities of the USA and the UK in the Matter of Tube Alloys. Whereas it is vital to our common safety in the present war to bring the Tube Alloys project to fruition at the earliest moments; and Whereas this maybe more speedily achieved if all available British and American brains and resources are pooled; and Whereas owing to war conditions it would be an improvident use of war resources to duplicate plants on a large scale on both sides of the Atlantic and therefore a far greater expense has fallen upon the United States; It is agreed between us. First, that we will never use this agency against each other. Secondly, that we will not use it against third parties without each other’s consent. Thirdly, that we will not either of us communicate any information about Tube Alloys to third parties except by mutual consent. Fourthly, that in view of the heavy burden of production falling upon the United States as the result of a wise division of war effort, the British Government recognize that any post-war advantages of an industrial or commercial character shall be dealt with as between the United States and Great Britain on terms to be specified by the President of the United States to the Prime Minister of Great Britain. The Prime Minister expressly disclaims any interest in these industrial and commercial aspects beyond what may be considered by the President of the United States to be fair and just and in harmony with the economic welfare of the world. And Fifthly, that the following arrangements shall be made to ensure full and effective collaboration between the two countries in bringing the project to fruition.

Following the signing of the Quebec Agreement, British physicists were soon drafted into the Manhattan Project in substantial numbers, working in close co-operation with their American counterparts at the Los Alamos facility in New Mexico. Information on all aspects of the project was still only exchanged between scientists on a strictly ‘need to know’ basis, but this compartmentalised approach was applied as a general security measure, rather than being any direct attempt to restrict British knowledge of the wider aspects of the project (even though Britain’s ignorance of some key areas was its inevitable result). In fact, Anglo-American co-operation was now better than ever and during another meeting in 1944, Roosevelt and Churchill signed another agreement, which developed the themes from the earlier Quebec Agreement. In essence, the ‘Hyde Park Aide Memoire’ specified that Britain and America should continue to pursue joint military and industrial atomic energy development even after the war had ended. The agreement also dismissed the idea of releasing information on Britain’s nuclear programme (the Tube Alloys Project) so that an international treaty of arms control could be set up while Britain and the US still retained a monopoly of knowledge. However (and without any plausible explanation), Roosevelt failed to even show the document to any of his advisors and it quietly disappeared into his private files for several years. After meeting with the president a few days after the memoire was first signed, Vannevar Bush expressed his belief that on the basis of the agreement, Roosevelt was privately contemplating an Anglo-American agreement to maintain complete secrecy on the atom bomb’s development beyond the end of the war, thereby (at least in theory) controlling the stability of the rest of the world. Bush believed that this was a flawed policy and advised the Secretary of War (Henry L. Stimpson) that it would inevitably encourage the Soviets to develop their own bomb and ultimately lead to a catastrophic conflict between the superpowers. Of course, Bush did not know that the Soviets were already well aware of the Manhattan Project. Further analysis only led to yet more confusion and, despite their misgivings, neither Bush nor Stimpson ever forwarded any viewpoints to the president. Subsequently, Stimpson commented that ‘the atomic bomb might be a Frankenstein which would eat us up, or it might be the means by which the peace of the world would be helped in becoming secure’. However, although the US government had realised that the country was effectively at a proverbial crossroads in terms of policy decisions, it was still far from clear which direction the country should take, and when Roosevelt died in April 1945, the situation had still not been resolved.

By now, Britain’s very significant involvement in the Manhattan Project was secure and despite the complexities of the task at hand, some rapid scientific progress was made, culminating in the detonation of the world’s first atomic device at 0529hrs on 16 July 1945. This device (it was far bigger and cumbersome than anything which could be described as a ‘bomb’) was assembled in secret, deep in the heart of what is now the White Sands Missile Range near Alamogordo, in the New Mexico desert.

The Trinity test site device employed an implosion system that utilised plutonium (a by-product of uranium created within an atomic pile during the chain reaction process) as its key fissile component. Plutonium had by now been determined to be a more efficient fissionable material (and could be created more easily) than uranium 235, but the reactor-produced plutonium proved to be rather less efficient than expected, which meant that a simple gun implosion detonation (effectively smashing a projectile into the core) simply wouldn’t create the necessary instantaneous chain reaction. The presence of additional neutrons during the fission process meant that the plutonium would begin to pre-detonate, resulting in a bomb with a disappointingly low yield no greater than that achieved with conventional explosives. The solution was to produce an implosion device, which requires the core of plutonium to be instantly compressed from all angles by conventional explosive charges. By carefully shaping a mix of fast and slow explosives into a series of ‘lenses’, a shock wave could be accurately directed on to the plutonium core, ensuring that it would be compressed simultaneously and equally on all sides.

This Avro drawing emerged during the 698 design process. At this stage the aircraft still features a simple straight-wing delta shape, but with intakes emerging ahead of the leading edge. The crew compartment has already been relocated into a detachable section forming a short fuselage. (BAE)

The 698 was first designed to incorporate two bomb bays, placed each side of the landing gear. The wing tip stabilising fins were subsequently abandoned in favour of a conventional centrally placed fin (a tailplane was unnecessary). (BAE)

The result was a sufficiently efficient chain reaction fission process that required only a 10cm diameter ball of reactor-grade plutonium to produce an effective explosion. Another distinct advantage of the plutonium implosion device was that it was also much safer to handle, avoiding all the obvious risks of the crude uranium gun device, which could easily be detonated by accident. However, because the creation of explosive lenses required a great deal of research and precision manufacturing (the explosive lenses had to be manufactured with millimetre-sized tolerances), the Scientific Director of the Manhattan Project (J. Robert Oppenheimer) decided that a plutonium device would be the right choice for the first test detonation, on the basis that a uranium gun device was virtually guaranteed to function and therefore didn’t even need to be tested. Informal bets were placed by the design team on the predicted outcome of the detonation, ranging from a complete failure, through to a yield of 18 kilotons (kt, the equivalent force of TNT). Hauled by a crane on to a 100ft-high tower, the completed device was held aloft in order to maximise the destructive effect on the target area below, and to reduce the creation of radioactive fallout which would be generated by sweeping up ground debris from the desert floor. A huge and cumbersome steel canister nicknamed ‘Jumbo’ was manufactured to encase the device, so that the conventional explosion could be contained, should the chain reaction fail and radioactive plutonium be released. However, confidence in the successful detonation of the ‘gadget’ (as it was often referred to by the team) eventually convinced the scientists to dispense with Jumbo, and the 240-ton case was simply re-positioned on a tower some 800 yards from the device, so that the effect of the explosion on it could be monitored, rather than encasing the explosion in its entirety. The scheduled 4 a.m. detonation was delayed by thunderstorms, but by 5 a.m. conditions were satisfactory and the assembled scientists and military observers took up their positions in various viewing locations, mostly situated around 10 miles from the device.

As Oppenheimer had predicted, the detonation was an unqualified success. The surrounding mountain ranges were briefly illuminated by a paralysing burst of blue light, far brighter than the usual daily desert sunshine. Some mightily baffled local residents reported seeing the morning sun make a brief appearance before setting again. The light dissipated and then developed into a huge, seething ball of orange fire, which boiled and expanded into a large mushroom-shaped cloud. Forty seconds after the initial detonation a powerful shock wave thundered over the scientists who had emerged from shelter to witness the spectacle. The wall of blast and sound eventually rolled far out into the desert, rattling windows some 200 miles away. One military observer later reported:

… the lighting effects beggared description. The whole country was lighted by a searing light with the intensity many times that of the midday sun. It was golden, purple, violet, grey and blue. It lighted every peak, crevasse and ridge of the nearby mountain range with a clarity and beauty that cannot be described but must be seen to be imagined.

The desert sand had instantly been melted into a smooth sea of green-coloured glass (subsequently nicknamed Trinitite) and although Jumbo still remained defiantly intact, its supporting tower had instantly been vaporised. The explosion had yielded an encouraging 19kt. In order to disguise the true nature of the historic explosion, Alamogordo Air Field issued a press release stating that ‘an explosion of a remotely located ammunitions dump, in which no one had been killed or injured’ had been the cause of the seismic disturbance. Oppenheimer was immensely satisfied with the result of the test, but even at this stage he was only too painfully aware of what potential horrors he had unleashed. In tears, he later recalled that as he watched the fireball rise into the early morning sky, he remembered a line from Hindu scriptures, ‘I am become death, the destroyer of worlds’. Test Director Kenneth Bainbridge’s comments were rather more succinct. He simply said, ‘Now we are all sons of bitches.’

The Avro 710 was to have been an intermediate test airframe between the simple, single-engined 707 and the full-scale (four-engined) 698. It was subsequently abandoned. (BAE)

Avro display model of the 698, illustrating the unusual engine exhaust configuration, which was to have emerged above the wing centre section. Also evident are the huge circular intakes originally proposed. (BAE)

The huge bulk of the Shorts Sperrin gets airborne at Farnborough. Although impressive in terms of size and shape, the aircraft was conventional in design and unremarkable in performance. (Tim McLelland collection)

2

ATOMIC WARFARE

When Truman assumed the US presidency, he knew nothing of the development of the atomic bomb, but once he was fully informed of the Manhattan Project’s progress, he set up another committee to explore the possible ways in which the atomic bomb could be used against Japan. Modern accounts of this period often suggest that the use of atomic bombs on Japan was little more than a macabre experiment, designed to record the effects of atomic bombs on both people and targets, but in reality it is clear that Truman’s only concern was the continuing war, and the very obvious possibility of bringing it to a swift conclusion without any bloody invasion of the Japanese mainland. Truman did consider the situation thoroughly before reaching any decisions as to whether atomic weapons should actually be used and, even though there was a clear indication that Japan’s appetite for some sort of surrender was growing, there was a firm belief that if an atomic bomb could end the war so much as one day sooner, it would be worth using it.

Oppenheimer predicted that just one bomb might well kill 20,000 people and he felt that a military installation should be chosen as a target rather than simply dropping a bomb on a city. Others felt that an isolated part of the Japanese countryside should be chosen as a pre-publicised ‘showcase’ in order to demonstrate the bomb’s power (and hopefully persuade Japan to capitulate without the need for further attacks), but the risk of publicising the bomber’s arrival would have inevitably encouraged Japan simply to shoot it down, therefore it was inevitable that a target of military significance would be chosen and destroyed without any prior notification. Of course there was also some risk that the bomb might simply fail to detonate (which would have been a huge embarrassment to the Allies if it had been publicised in advance), although the weapon was to be a relatively crude uranium device, which relied on the simple gun detonation method. The Manhattan team’s confidence in the success of this bomb’s design was so high that no pre-drop tests were thought necessary and they were convinced that the weapon would function as predicted, being a far simpler device than the plutonium ‘physics package’ that had been demonstrated in New Mexico. Doubts had begun to grow that Japan would ever consider a complete surrender unless a devastating and direct blow was delivered on its cities, and when the Manhattan team reported that a suitable bomb could be made available by the beginning of August, there seemed to be no reason to avoid using it at the earliest opportunity.

Out in the Pacific on 6 August, a B–29 Superfortress from the specially formed 590th Composite Group lumbered into the air over Tinian island (the unit’s forward base) and headed for the Japanese mainland some 1,500 miles to the west. Secured in the aircraft’s bomb bay was ‘Little Boy’, a 9,700lb uranium bomb. Hiroshima had been chosen as the primary target, chiefly because of its significance as a military and communications centre, but also because the area had been untouched by conventional bombing, which would enable observers to examine the destructive effects of the bomb without any ‘contamination’ from previous attacks. Accompanied by escorting observation aircraft, Enola Gay (named in honour of Enola Gay Tibbets, mother of Paul, the aircraft’s captain) approached the target at 31,000ft and released the weapon at 0815hrs local time.

Fitted with barometric and ground radar fusing, the bomb successfully detonated some forty-three seconds later at a height of 1,900ft above an army parade ground. A huge burst of light, heat and blast immediately engulfed the city, instantly killing 70,000 people. After turning sharply away from the target area, Enola Gay was hit by a violent shock wave, indicating to the bomber’s crew that the bomb had detonated. Turning back towards the target once the blast wave had passed, Paul Tibbets recalled that, ‘the city was hidden by that awful cloud … boiling up, mushrooming, terrible and incredibly tall’. Ultimately, this single bomb was responsible for the deaths of more than 200,000 people and the complete devastation of 5 square miles of land. Truman immediately issued a statement on the bomb’s devastating effects and served notice on Japan that if it did not surrender with immediate effect (as required by the Potsdam Declaration made on 26 July) then more Japanese cities would be attacked with similarly catastrophic results. Japan offered no such response and a second weapon was prepared for immediate use. On 9 August another B–29 (named Bockscar) departed Tinian, this time carrying an implosion device (using plutonium) nicknamed ‘Fat Man’. The primary target at Kokura was obscured by cloud and so the B–29 crew opted to attack the secondary target at Nagasaki. The bomb was released at 1101hrs local time. The target point was missed by almost 2 miles, which spared a major portion of the city from the bomb’s blast thanks to the masking effect created by a ridge of hills. The plutonium bomb was significantly more powerful than the uranium bomb (which had yielded approximately 13kt) and produced an impressive 21kt, but because of the topography of the local area and the inaccurate delivery, the resulting destruction was much the same (or even less) than that created by Little Boy. More bombing missions were prepared, with another bomb being assembled for use by the end of August, followed by three more for use in September, and then another three in October. However, on the same day that Nagasaki was destroyed, Emperor Hirohito announced that surrender was Japan’s only option:

The enemy has begun to employ a new and most cruel bomb, the power of which to do damage is, indeed, incalculable, taking the toll of many innocent lives. Should we continue to fight, not only would it result in an ultimate collapse and obliteration of the Japanese nation, but also it would lead to the total extinction of human civilization. Such being the case, how are we to save the millions of our subjects, or to atone ourselves before the hallowed spirits of our imperial ancestors? This is the reason why we have ordered the acceptance of the provisions of the Joint Declaration of the Powers.

The Second World War was finally over.

As Britain had been so closely involved with the development of these first atomic weapons, it was inevitable that British observers would be present to witness their use and they quickly reported back to Downing Street. Prime Minister Attlee rapidly familiarised himself with the new weapon after his party assumed power and during August 1945 he stated:

A decision on major policy with regard to the atomic bomb is imperative. Until this is taken, civil and military departments are unable to plan. It must be recognised that the emergence of this weapon has rendered most of our post-war planning out of date. We recognised, or some of us did before this war, that bombing would only be answered by counter bombing. We were right. Berlin and Magdeburg were the answer to London and Coventry. The answer to an atomic bomb on London is an atomic bomb on another great city. Scientists in other countries are certain in time to hit upon the secret. The most we may have is a few years’ start. The question is, what use are we to make of that few years’ start?

Britain’s military chiefs of staff were also carefully considering the impact of the new weapon’s potential with respect to their future offensive and defensive policies. As a direct result of their deliberations, they advised their Technical Warfare Committee to revise the Tizard Committee report on future developments in methods of warfare, to take directly into account the development of the atomic bomb. The Tizard report had first been created in response to a request made by the chiefs of staff in November 1944 to investigate potential future developments in weaponry design. Although Tizard had (as described previously) been involved with the development of atomic research, his committee didn’t have any direct access to any of the scientific or military developments as they emerged, so its report was therefore almost obsolete before it was completed, even though it described the potential for atomic bomb development together with the high-speed and high-altitude bombers that would be necessary to deliver such weapons. Most importantly, the original report touched upon the concept of nuclear deterrence, stating that ‘… the only answer that we can see to the atomic bomb is to be prepared to use it ourselves in retaliation. The knowledge that we were prepared, in the last resort, to do this, might well deter an aggressive nation.’

The Avro 707 prototype pictured shortly after completion at Woodford. (BAE)

One of only a few surviving photographs of the 707 prototype, this view illustrates the tall main landing gear legs and the unusual dorsal air intake for the aircraft’s Derwent engine. (BAE)

VX784 pictured during its short test career. Although revolutionary in shape, the aircraft took advantage of many existing components, such as a Meteor’s nose gear and canopy, and the Athena’s main landing gear. (BAE)

The revised Tizard Report established some critical points that would become fundamental to Britain’s future defence policy:

Given sufficient accumulation in peace and adequate means of delivery, atomic and biological weapons might achieve decisive results with relatively small effort against the civil population of a nation, without a clash between the major military forces or the exercise of sea power. Some five or ten atomic bombs landed on the target, with the prospect of more to follow, might well cause the evacuation of cities to an extent sufficiently seriously to sap the power of waging war by conventional means of any country physically or psychologically unorganised to meet such action. Without the moral backing of adequate military power in being, with which to limit or repel invasion, or to launch an effective counteroffensive, such attack might well lead to collapse. On the other hand, some hundreds of atomic weapons might fail to cause the collapse of a country suitably organised physically and psychologically, and morally reinforced by adequate military power in being. There is no firm basis on which to assess the quantities of atomic and biological weapons required by any nation to bring about the collapse of another, and many of the factors involved are imponderable. Nevertheless, our estimate, based on such information as is at present available, leads us to believe that some 30–120 atomic bombs accurately delivered by the USSR might cause the collapse of the United Kingdom without invasion, whereas several hundred bombs might be required by the United States or the United Kingdom to bring about the collapse of the USSR. The number of bombs required to cause a similar collapse in the United States would probably be somewhat greater than for this country, but the problem of landing them accurately in the United States at the ranges involved is much greater.

Britain’s determined attempts to develop an atomic bomb were driven by the knowledge that a similar quest was probably being pursued in Hitler’s Germany. This fear of Nazi know-how had been almost seamlessly replaced by an even greater fear of Soviet capability by the time that the Second World War ended. If Germany’s tentative steps towards the creation of an atomic bomb had been a worrying possibility, the Soviet’s interest in the same technology would undoubtedly become an even greater terror. Churchill had already expressed his fears in a telegram to President Truman sent during May 1945, in which he admitted that he was:

This rare view of VX784 illustrates the dorsal engine intake, together with the splitter plate inside it. As can be seen, the airframe is surprisingly simple, despite its unusual shape. (BAE)

… profoundly concerned about the European situation. I learn that half the American Air Force has already begun to move to the Pacific theatre. The newspapers are full of great movements of the American armies out of Europe. Our armies also are, under previous arrangements, likely to undergo a marked reduction. The Canadian Army will certainly leave. The French are weak. Anyone can see that in a very short space of time our armed power on the Continent will have vanished, expect for moderate forces to hold down Germany. Meanwhile, what is to happen about Russia? I feel deep anxiety because of their misinterpretation of the Yalta decisions, their attitude towards Poland, their overwhelming influence in the Balkans, excepting Greece, the difficulties they make about Vienna, the combination of Russian power and the territories under their control or occupied, coupled with the Communist technique in so many other countries, and above all their power to maintain very large armies in the field for a long time. What will be the position in a year or two when the British and American armies have melted and the French have not yet been formed on any major scale, and when Russia may choose to keep two or three hundred divisions on active service? An iron curtain is drawn down upon their front. We do not know what is going on behind.

There was a pervasive belief both in British and American circles that the development of nuclear power and atomic weaponry could be placed under international control, but others feared that international agreements could not put the proverbial atomic genie back into its proverbial bottle. In a minute to the prime minister submitted during October 1945, the chiefs of staff stated that:

We must aim for international control – it is probably the only alternative to mutual destruction. Any international agreement into which we enter should include the most unequivocal and comprehensive rights of inspection. The whole concept of international control stands or falls on the efficacy of the arrangements for such an inspection. Russia is a country which appears to have both the natural resources and the remote areas for the secret development of atomic weapons. There is the obvious danger that we and the Americans might be led to agree not to produce atomic weapons while the Russians secretly carried out their research and production in the remote areas of the Soviet Union. The right of inspection will provide no security unless it is completely comprehensive. How this is to be achieved under the present Soviet system is the crux of the problem. It is clear that in the event of failure to secure an international agreement, possession of atomic weapons of our own would be vital to our security. The best method of defence against the new weapons is likely to be the deterrent effect that the possession of the means of retaliation would have on a potential aggressor. The Chiefs of Staff therefore consider that we should press ahead in the field of research and that it is essential that British production of atomic weapons should start as soon as possible. To delay production pending the outcome of negotiations regarding international control might well prove fatal to the security of the British Commonwealth.

It was becoming abundantly clear that no matter how atomic developments were controlled, the maturation of an atomic bomb capability laid at the very heart of Britain’s future security and, with a growing political will to pursue the concept, the task of designing and manufacturing atomic weapons was finally addressed. British scientists had been an important part of the Manhattan Project and had worked in close co-operation with the American team from the very beginning of the programme, right through to its final expression in the skies above Japan. General Groves, who masterminded the project, later commented that there would probably have never been a bomb to drop on Hiroshima or Nagasaki had it not been for ‘active and continuing British interest’, which had pushed the project into being and had enabled it to reach its violent fruition. However, the immediate post-war political environment changed Britain’s relationship with America, and the necessity for close wartime co-operation quickly faded as America turned its attention to peacetime commercial interests. The pivotal involvement in the Manhattan Project had undoubtedly given Britain a great deal of technical knowledge, but the compartmentalised nature of the activities at Los Alamos meant that Britain still didn’t have all the necessary knowledge necessary to build her own atomic bomb without America’s help. However, as Lord Chadwick (Chairman of the Weaponry Committee which reported to the Ministry of Supply) wisely pointed out, the British scientists could not be ‘expected to take amnesia tablets before returning home’.

VX790 pictured at Woodford during its test-flight programme. In the far distance a variety of distinctly older Avro designs is visible. (BAE)