Collection of Curiosities - Nuclear Edition

What better way to end the year than with a look at some of the most bizarre, crazy, and world-ending nuclear weapons that have been created in the past 60 years? Sure, there's alcohol, but I'd like to see you fit that through an Ethernet cable.

So, why not start small?


The M-28/M-29 Recoilless Rifle loaded with the M-388 Davy Crockett


Featuring a 76 pound nuclear device (including 51 pound warhead) atop a recoilless rifle, the Davy Crockett was the smallest nuclear weapon deployed by the US. In service from 1961 to 1971, the weapon was provided to a number of units in Europe during the Cold War with the goal of warding off a potential Soviet offensive. With a variable yield between 10 tons and 250 tons, the damage output for a nuclear weapon may seem relatively small, but imagine the simultaneous detonation of 10 tons of TNT and we're on our way to a deadly bazooka equivalent.

The weapon had two potential recoilless rifle mounts (a recoilless gun allows the gases from the propellant to escape out the rear of the weapon and not out the barrel with the projectile, reducing recoil). A 120mm variant called the M28 and a 150mm variant called the M29, the difference being their 1.25 and 2.5 mile range, respectively (the US military does love the letter M). The US army also looked into a variety of other warheads and weapons platforms.

At such a small yield the danger from heat and flash are minimal; even electromagnetic problems would be trivial compared to the amount of radiation output. Unfortunately even at the standardized 20 ton yield the weapon would be relatively lethal up to 400m from the blast center. That's assuming there's no wind carrying all of the fallout into the firing team in the first place. The weapon's minimum range setting was 300m, and at a 20 ton yield that's a bit of a sick joke since all of the operators would get lethal doses of radiation at that distance. The rifles' purported ranges of 1.25 and 2.5 miles are a bit misleading as well; neither rifle was especially accurate in test firings. The weapon's maximum yield also effectively negates its firing range.


There's also the chance that one slip up could lead to this.




'Atomic Annie' (11 inch gun) firing the only test-fired W9 nuclear artillery shell


As part of the US Army's love for all things nuclear in the 1950s they started research into nuclear artillery. Two decades saw the creation of numerous artillery and warhead pairs, but the W9 is the only warhead to ever be successfully test-fired from an actual artillery piece (the W33 warhead was tested twice without being fired from a gun).

Part of the US military's first foray into nuclear artillery testing, the W9 shot pictured above was from the Grable shot in the Upshot-Knothole series of nuclear tests. I have no idea who names these things, but they are probably crazy. Operation Upshot-Knothole's objective was to investigate a variety of nuclear weapon designs and begin combat operations testing for the US military, including the proofing of tactical nuclear weapons.

The explosion was a 15 kiloton yield - viewable above at 6 miles away from the artillery piece. The small white lines (which pop up in many photos of nuclear weapon tests) are for blast wave analysis and aren't part of the explosion. The US deployed some form of nuclear artillery up until the denuclearization of the armed forces in 1992... Never mind that an assortment of nuclear test ban treaties prevented the military from actually testing the viability and functionality of those weapons.


The RDS-220 'Big Ivan', also known as the Tsar Bomba


The Tsar Bomba weapon series consisted of a single 50+ megaton nuclear weapon dropped on Novaya Zemlya archipelago on October 30th, 1961. Developed within a 16 week timeframe at the behest of Nikita Khrushchev, the bomb derived from a 100 megaton design far too heavy for deployment (the 50 Mt variant that was tested required a modified Tu-95N bomber to get it into the air). Only one functioning weapon was built, with a replica housed at the Russian Nuclear Weapons Museum in Sarov (the center of Soviet nuclear weapons design, near Novgorod - called Kremlyov until 1995).

The weapon's detonation ended a two year voluntary US/USSR nuclear testing cessation, and prompted the US to redouble its nuclear development program.

Dropped from a height of 4000m the explosion reached to the ground before convection currents lifted the fireball and mushroom cloud 64km into the atmosphere. The blast leveled the sole settlement 55km away and knocked over buildings and broke windows further than 100km away. The flash was visible more than 1000km away (where high-ranking Soviet observers ...observed). At 50 Mt the Tsar bomba is easily the largest built and detonated nuclear weapon.


At the very least, woo, nuclear fireworks for New Years.

Don't Nuke the Fridge Just Yet

My adventures on university buses and having to listen to people talk on their cellphones present me with innumerable stories. I could, for instance, mention that: D&D nerds don't like it when they're DMing a game and their players use anime as a basis for their avatars' archetypes; that Algerian-born Americans still require a visa and an American passport at least six months old in order to visit Algeria; and that someone got a job as an exotic dancer to get money to bail her boyfriend out of jail. Another conversation, coupled with the relatively recent release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on DVD, has led me to a more subjective topic. One scene in the movie considered too far out there for suspension of disbelief and the setting of Indiana Jones for many people...


That's right, the Witch and the Wardrobe the Nuke and the Fridge. And because internet culture isn't content with the euphemisms of old (even if they're very young), "Nuke the Fridge" has partially taken up the mantle of "Jump the Shark".

Now, "Jump the Shark" is supposed to indicate that something has passed its prime, but it specifically refers to an episode of Happy Days, where Fonzie literally jumps a shark water skiing. Despite the episode airing on September 20th, 1977 the coinage of "jump the shark" didn't happen until around 1985 - and only entered normal parlance around 1998. Never mind that 1977 involved the fifth running season of Happy Days, which continued on for another 7 years. Aside from pointing out the fact that drawing parallels between "jump the shark" from Happy Days and "nuke the fridge" from Kingdom of the Crystal Skull may lead to some dubious conclusions indicative of another four or five IJ movies, I'd like to illustrate a few reasons why nuking the fridge wasn't so bad.


The Fridge, Reality, and Physics
The movie's scene is an effort to replicate the discomforting nature of the US government's Operation Cue and its preoccupation with discovering how nuclear weapons affect residential infrastructure. Like the movie, the real bomb site was a short distance away from Area 51 in the Nellis Air Force Range (a bit northwest of Las Vegas). The actual detonation site is visible via satellite (the bright circle with the 1.5 mile diameter in the middle of the map below...unless the map is centered on the wrong place - in which case the FBI will be at your building within the hour (and you're probably using Google Chrome)). The small collection of 'roads' and 'structures' on the right are actually a collection of craters.


View Larger Map

Comically enough, put Area 51 into Google maps and you'll end up with a rather large airstrip, bomb testing ground, and collection of hangars about 15 miles northeast of the Operation Cue detonation site. On a completely unrelated note, it seems that the USAF pays a few million in taxes on the area for its contractors, but won't allow a tax assessor on to the secret military testing grounds to corroborate the assessment.

More importantly with regards to the movie, the small collection of buildings would have been out of the bomb's most devastating blast range (the closest housing was put outside the 0.75 mile immediate blast radius in the actual test). The most unrealistic facet of the scene is that the refrigerator is thrown an appreciable distance from the blast in the first place (it would have been knocked over or pushed a few meters). On the plus side, the air-tight nature of the fridge would protect him from the drastic changes in overpressure that results in a shock wave (and consequently, popped eardrums, bruising, and potential lung collapse - among other things). It would also protect him from the intense thermal radiation (the kind where dark clothing may cause the heat to 'bleed-through' and burn the tissue underneath).

Despite the unrealistic nature of the refrigerator's trajectory, it's still not the worst situation. From a physics standpoint the refrigerator comes to a gradual stop, which is related to the concept of impulse. Impulse is the change in momentum over time (or the change in velocity over time with regard to mass). The longer a collision takes the less force is applied at any individual instance (this is the reason cars have crumple zones, but you're still more likely to survive in a car rolling down a hill than one that smashes into a concrete barrier). The material inside the fridge makes a difference too, but maybe Jones' hat isn't just for show.


Audience Perceptions and Presumptions
People tend to expect certain things in action movies. Survivability in a nuclear blast usually isn't one of those things. The middle ground of nuclear destruction lies somewhere between Duck and Cover and vaporizing every bit of matter within the blast zone. Tangentially: if you ever do find yourself outside in the midst of a nuclear holocaust, ducking and covering your head while hiding behind the tallest immediate sturdy obstacle between yourself and the explosion is the best way to go.

Many of Indiana Jones' previous stunts are arguably more deadly, but the association with nuclear weapons as the ultimate destructive force in the world can blur judgement. There are far less survivable things than a rolling refrigerator and a nuclear explosion.

Freefalling from a plane in a raft.

Very few people have survived a freefall at terminal velocity. Vesna Vulović is one of those select few. She survived a 10km freefall above Czechloslovakia when a bomb detonated and broke apart her plane in midair. She survived because the wreck landed on a steep incline that allowed for a gradual change in acceleration instead of an abrupt stop. Additionally, the -60°C air outside at 10km caused hypothermia, which - coupled with her chronic low blood pressure - prevented her from bleeding to death and suffering brain death before she could be rescued. Indiana Jones (along with Shortround and Willie) survives freefall approaching terminal velocity unsecured on a raft...twice (remember impulse from earlier? Jones' raft hits so hard it bounces).

Leaping from a tank as it drives over the edge of a cliff.

Heroes always seem to be saved by dried-out roots laying casually over the side of a cliff. This trope is so common that people tend to instantly ignore it whenever it pops up in movies. Apparently soil is best at holding dry desert weeds after it has been compacted by a tank...I guess?

Boarding a diving submarine in rough waters.

Swimming in the ocean isn't all that dangerous (German submariners in WW2 would often be granted time to swim when they were in the middle of the Atlantic, out of Allied aircraft's range). Swimming in choppy open ocean tends to be a bit more dangerous. Now, boarding a diving submarine is downright impossible, considering the fact that submariners trained to accomplish this maneuver in a matter of seconds. Turns out Indiana Jones is a time traveling Michael Phelps with a PhD in archeology...and a cloak of invisibility because where the hell did he hide once he got on that submarine?

Stopping a speeding mine cart with flat-soled shoes.

I'm not sure what kind of description this one merits. Perhaps this cat sliding in a box can exemplify some of the properties of friction forgotten here. At the very least the cat sliding in a box is a cat sliding in a box.

That should cover some aspects from all the previous movies (doubly so for Temple of Doom and its craziness). These two aspects all pale in comparison to the big Indiana Jones kicker.


Parody and Satire
One of the hallmarks through the series is the parody of conventional expectations of contemporary events, culture and attitudes. From the rocket engine test site to the lead-lined refrigerator, the parody is far more consistent than the original three movies. At first this might seem strange, but if you've got a keen eye for history, you'll notice that many of the same satire and parody is present in the earlier IJ films as well. From the luger that manages to shoot through an entire line of Nazi soldiers (this one is partially ironic as well, since some SS officers in various camps tried expeirments of seeing how many people could be killed with a single bullet); to the Middle Eastern royalty more impressed by a car than gold; to Nazi experimental aircraft (a decade early); to apathetic British occupying forces in India; to "I'm an American!" - the satire and parodies are everywhere, they're just less apparent because it's more expected. Nazis are evil - it's amusing when they're shot and fall over. Indian people are strange - a boy emperor and monkey brains for dessert fits right in with our expectations.

There are quite a few satirical elements at work here, some more subtle than others (and we've already covered "Duck and Cover" and nuclear testing). For instance: did you know that death by refrigerator was alarmingly frequent from the 1950s to the 1970s? Turns out many of the models couldn't be opened from the inside...and apparently refrigerators were child magnets. The fridge Jones climbs into happens to be lead-lined, which is a convenient way to avoid having your protagonist die of radiation poisoning. But it also happens to coincide with the '50s fascination for lead-based everything. From paints to toys, lead was everywhere (along with other dangerous things, like dagger-tipped lawn darts). Lead was known definitively to be a poison since at least the 1800s, but recognized by some Roman scholars as a source of maladies (and occasionally noted as a poison). Maybe people in the 1950s figured it'd be an easy way to weed out some of the dumb ones.

These sorts of things are present throughout the movie, but particularly in the first half (maybe this is a subconscious reason why many people thought the first half was better). From greasers and socs to CIA spooks, the film covers a vast variety of 1950s culture. I think one of the reasons people are willing to associate more with the first three IJ films is the fact that the 1930s presents a clear dichotomy - the Nazis are the definitive historical villain (this is also likely a reason why Temple of Doom sees a bit of a dip in popularity too). The 1950s are bit more blurred. High School history classes tend to have two things to say about the 1950s: they came after World War Two and before the Civil Rights movement (okay, they probably mention the baby boomers, too).


So what have we learned? The refrigerator isn't any less plausible than some other insane stunts in Indiana Jones movies. The monkeys though... I cannot reconcile the monkeys.

We've also learned people shouldn't talk on their cellphone on the bus.

In 10,000 Years Skulls Could Be Rainbows

I know what you're thinking: "The Cold War had the constant threat of nuclear annihilation, but what do I get?" The US Department of Energy has just the thing for you. 

The Waste Isolation Pilot Plant (WIPP) is a transuranic nuclear waste disposal facility. It sits in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert (because if Chihuahuas are hit with a freight load of radiation maybe they'll grow bigger and be less annoying) near Carlsbad, New Mexico. They've been piling nuclear waste into it since 1999, and they'll be doing it for quite a few more years. They put it there because (it's easier than repudiating the START treaties so we can reprocess the waste) the location is remote, the geology is sound, and New Mexico is trying to catch up with New Jersey for 'Waste Capital of the World'.

The main storage facility lies half a mile below the surface of the Earth, nestled in the Salado and Castile salt domes of the Delaware basin (nevermind that the Delaware basin is not located in Delaware). Here, the unique geologic strata will ensure the facility will remain sealed well into the foreseeable future. The salt (contrary to our usual interactions with salt and other minerals) is relatively fluid and will be able to effectively seal any cracks which may develop in the shell of the subterranean structure. The salt formations indicate aridity on a geologic timescale - which is important, because nuclear waste in your groundwater will probably make it taste like Bellevue tap water. The rock salt also provides radiation shielding at nearly the same rate as concrete. Due to the heat from constant radiation the waste containers will be prone to condensation, and so the air will be ciriculated to maintain the integrity of the radioactive casks. The access and ventilation shafts sit in a 4 mile by 4 mile plot of land recessed from casual human intrusion.

The interesting part is that the EPA has assigned the WIPP a regulatory period of 10,000 years - the half-life of most of the waste inside (that doesn't mean it'll be safe in 10,000 years, just half as dangerous, really). This means that the EPA feels it has a moral responsibility to assure safety for future generations and warn them against intrusion into the structure (lest they become Fallout-esque mutants). So how do you warn people 10,000 years in the future that "digging here may be a bad idea, yo"?

10,000 years is a long time. 10,000 years ago humans had barely discovered agriculture. We've had alphabets for less than 3,000 years. We've known about radiation only since the 1800s. If you were trying to convey a message to people unimaginably far into the future, how would you do it?

Languages evolve quickly - words are invented and discarded constantly. Colors and symbols are culture specific, and their meanings can change on a whim (swastikas, rainbows, skull and crossbones - symbology has evolved for each). Even the relatively famous and common nuclear trefoil has met with some symbolism migration recently. So the WIPP hired a consortium of linguists, scientists, anthropologists, futurists, and science fiction authors to determine the best way to say, "don't dig here if you don't want a face full of radiation."

What did they decide? Two rings of equally spaced, 25-foot high monoliths etched in 7 languages (the six languages of the United Nations and the local language - Navajo) with Edvard Munch's "The Scream" face and some symbols (like ...Dr. Evil's head, for some reason); a collection of bunkers which repeat and expand on the information; and a berm (soil wall) showcasing the facility's underground footprint (including underground radar reflectors and magnets). In addition a set of documents will be sent to archives and libraries internationally. The plan is to use sturdy materials resistant to corrosion with redundant backups, constructed so they cannot be salvaged or easily removed. The finalized plan (with material types, quanity and placement) is expected to be complete in 2028.

How will we know if it works? Look for the three-headed man in the year 12029.