The Confederate superbomb project
In some quarters, the Great War became known as the "War to End All Wars." With nearly forty million people killed, wounded or missing in three years, it was difficult to imagine in 1918 that the world could descend into such destruction twice.
Of course, it took a little over twenty years for this to come to past. The Second Great War was, in fact, far more destructive - the number of deaths from 1941-1944 surpassed the Great War's total casualties. What made this war particularly horrific was the violence visited upon civilian populations, from collateral damage in bombing campaigns, to the organized slaughter of the Confederacy's Negro population, which is believed to have taken over eight million lives alone.
The Population Destruction set the standard for destruction in the Second Great War, but the superbomb is a close second. Over a million people died at Petrograd and Paris each, while the United Kingdom suffered as much as both of these nations put together. A large portion of Belgium was unintentionally rendered uninhabitable by the British, who had gone to war ostensibly to free their former ally. The North American nations were "lucky," as the three bombs dropped in the Western Hemisphere killed only about a million people. Of all the major powers in the Second Great War, only Japan was never attacked with superbombs.
Three nations, Germany, the US, and Britain, are currently known to possess these weapons, while Russia, Japan, and Italy are known to be pursuing them. As the Habsburg Empire contributed heavily to the German project, it is thought that they may possess superbombs as well.) It is also known that Germany has stationed superbomb-armed squadrons on Austrian soil, and perhaps Ukraine and Poland as well. That this empire, rich as it has always been in scientific talent, was the first to build such a weapon is no surprise. But as late as the Second Great War, it was not fully appreciated that the second foremost nation in nuclear physics was not the mighty United States or proud British Empire, but the supposed backwards Confederate States of America.
How this country of landowners and serfs became a scientific powerhouse is something of a historical mystery. But by the Great War, significant research was being carried out at Washington University in Virginia, Duke in North Carolina, and Tulane in Louisiana. (The reader will note that these three schools, along with Muscle Shoals, Alabama, were the primary sites of the Confederate nuclear program thirty years later.) Several historians have pointed out that Jewish scientists were highly prominent in nuclear research in general and the German Mittelwerk project in particular. The Confederate project also had a surprising number of Jews in its ranks, such as the young Russian emigres Julius Khariton and Jacob Zeldovich, and the uranium ("jovium") expert Benjamin Martin, who was killed along with a number of colleagues in a bombing raid in 1943.
But the driving force was undoubtedly Henderson Venable FitzBelmont (1895-1945), grandson of Robert E. Lee's aide-de-camp, a professor of mathematics. Had the Entente won the war, his name would have been bandied about in the same way that "Einstein" and "Oppenheimer" are today. He followed in the footsteps of his grandfather and father (who succeeded Woodrow Wilson as the President of the University of Virginia) and went into academia. A 1913 graduate of the University of Virginia, he was studying at Harvard University when the Great War began in 1914. FitzBelmont, along with a number of his countrymen, was exchanged in early 1915. He spent the rest of the year in a lab on the War Department payroll, researching optics and then radio communications. When the war ended he returned to his studies in nuclear physics, receiving his doctorate from Washington University at Lexington, Virginia.
FitzBelmont spent the 1920s studying and teaching in Charlottesville, Chapel Hill, and Heidelberg before returning to Lexington. He shared the Gorgas Medal, the highest Confederate scientific prize, in 1927 for his work on alpha decay. But 1930 saw an even greater achievement: the discovery of a previously-unknown particle in the nucleus of the atom, which he dubbed the "neutron," due to its lack of charge. This revelation set off what could be described as an arms race in nuclear physics, as FitzBelmont and his peers immediately recognized that a neutron could easily penetrate the electrical barrier of a nucleus. Soon teams of scientists on both sides of the Atlantic were bombarding hapless nuclei with neutrons. In early 1938, the German scientist Otto Hahn and his assistants, Lise Meitner and Fritz Strassman at the University of Berlin succeeded in splitting an atom of uranium-238.
The experiment was soon repeated in the universities of the world powers, using uranium from the German Congo, Russia, and Canada. (Such was the sparse understanding of nuclear physics outside a cloistered community that uranium remained unrestricted by the US State Department until 1941, allowing it to be sold in the Confederate States and United Kingdom.) The Hungarian Leo Szilard, working at the University of Munich, was the first to posit that a nuclear chain reaction could be induced, but the theoretical and practical barriers seemed enormous. Research continued, but the pace slowed as it became clear that uranium-238, the most common isotope of that element, could not sustain a chain reaction.
Even at this late stage, despite the increasing tension on the world stage, national and military leaders had yet to grasp the significance of what had occurred. Nuclear research was still conducted almost entirely by universities, with little to no government support. The first government known to have officially approved a superbomb project was that of Winston Churchill, who had an affinity for innovative schemes (what his detractors would call "gimmicks"). But even this did not occur until 1939, and then it was still a rather minor research project under James Chadwick at Liverpool.
Following the plebiscites in former Confederate territories held under the Richmond Agreement, the possibility of war rose sharply when Kentucky was re-militarized twenty-five years ahead of schedule. President Alfred Smith authorized nuclear research following his second inauguration in March 1941, handing the project off to Franklin Roosevelt, brought back into the War Department expressly due to the likelihood of war. When Roosevelt began negotiating with the German Empire to purchase large quantities of uranium from the German Congo, Wilhelm’s ambassador to the United States informed Smith that Germany was working on its own superbomb. Germany permitted the sale, and even allowed some note-sharing between scientists, but no official cooperation between the two nations ensued.
FitzBelmont approached Jake Featherston in 1941 as well, but was turned down when he could not promise that he could actually produce a bomb if given the men and money he needed. (Presumably, Featherston was being besieged with claims of new wonder-weapons everyday.) It was not until early 1942, after FitzBelmont and Clarence Potter presented him with evidence of the Hanford project, that Featherston gave the green light. Ordinarily, those lost months would have doomed the effort. The Confederacy had a smaller industrial base, a smaller scientific talent pool, and like the US, no uranium within its borders. Throughout the war, the Confederate effort relied on those stockpiles purchased by universities before 1941, largely from Canada and the German Congo, and from supplies smuggled via submarine from French North Africa, and from Russia via the United Kingdom. And the United States’ greater economic clout took a huge blow when the Confederate Army blasted a hole through the middle of the North’s industrial heartland in 1941-1942 and cut the country in two.
But the Confederacy’s greatest advantage lay, surprisingly, in its scientists. FitzBelmont himself proved to be an excellent administrator, especially with Clarence Potter there to run interference. But his scientific acumen was second to none, and the team he assembled proved, pound for pound, to be more brilliant than any outside Germany. The American team, run by the capable Robert J. Oppenheimer, tended to proceed slowly and cautiously, and often deferred to previous work in the field, especially German-produced research. The Confederates, with fewer resources and on a tighter schedule often threw caution to the winds and proceeded on guesswork. The Confederates chose fairly early on to concentrate their enrichment efforts on gas centrifuges, while the US relied on the more expensive gaseous diffusion and electromagnetic separation, which had fewer scientific hurdles to clear. Gas centrifuges were far more efficient and required smaller facilities, but were much more difficult to design.
The Confederates had another stroke of luck in that no other nation other than Germany had an easier time handling uranium hexafluoride, a highly corrosive substance utilized in both the diffusion and centrifuge methods. Germany’s large and highly-advanced chemical industry soon found that coating components with fluorocarbons reduced damage. FitzBelmont's team hit upon the same idea shortly afterwards, and by chance one of its chemists had in 1939 accidentally invented polytetrafluoroethylene, which proved perfectly suited to the task. (Rains Chemicals’ patent was appropriated by the US government after the war and auctioned off to DuPont, which now markets it as a nonstick coating for kitchen utensils under the name Teflet.)
While most research and production was carried out at Washington University, Tulane and Duke also hosted satellites of the project, though these lost their importance as the war continued. (Duke had been the primary site for electromagnetic separation research, which was abandoned in 1942. Most of Tulane’s personnel were transferred to Lexington in 1943.) A large production facility was constructed near Muscle Shoals, Alabama, but it had to be abandoned after the power plants were destroyed in 1943 during Irving Morrell’s drive through Kentucky and Tennessee. The US Army actually captured the facility later that year, but nobody who examined it had the specialized knowledge required to identify its purpose until after the war had ended.
Despite increasingly savage bombing raids on Lexington during 1943 and 1944, which resulted in the deaths of several invaluable scientists and forced the entire project deep underground, the Confederacy succeeded in producing a jovium (plutonium) implosion-type weapon in the spring of 1944. (The original plan had been to produce a gun-type weapon, which was considered easier to produce. But British research passed to the Confederates by ambassador Lord Halifax revealed that a plutonium gun-type weapon was too unstable to be safely built. The British abandoned “churchillium” weapons and instead produced gun-type uranium weapons exclusively, while the Confederates went ahead with the difficult process of machining a hollow jovium sphere). The United States actually detonated the first superbomb used on North American soil, shortly after the Germans destroyed Petrograd, testing it in the deserts of Utah. The Confederates, faced with marauding armies in every corner of their country, had no time for such niceties, and when Clarence Potter left the superbomb sitting in a truck in West Philadelphia in May 1944, he had no idea whether it would actually explode.
The weapon worked, of course, and though it destroyed a large chunk of the densely-populated city and killed hundreds of thousands, it failed to knock the US out of the war. The US responded with two superbombings in June, destroying Newport News (narrowly missing Featherston) and Charleston, birthplace of the War of Secession. By the time Featherston was finally killed while on the run outside Madison, Georgia, the Confederacy was still weeks away from building another viable weapon, while the US still had one round chambered.
Every single human being in Lexington and Rockbridge County was arrested by the US Army and thoroughly debriefed, and the entire area was sealed off. It was not until 1946 that Rockbridge County was re-opened and the locals were allowed to return. A sweep of universities across the South resulted in every academic with a knowledge of nuclear physics being rounded up and at least briefly detained, with many remaining in permanent Army custody. Pursuant to the Dewey Doctrine, by which the US and German Empire agreed to police global superbomb programs, anyone who worked for any sector of the Confederate project, in any capacity, was forbidden to leave the country.
Nevertheless, Confederate jovium expert Thurston Delaney, who had been badly maimed by a US bomb in 1943 and invalided out, is believed to have been living in an apartment near the University of Rome as of late 1945, and a container of gas centrifuges seized on a merchant ship out of Guaymas bound for Yokohama, Japan were eventually traced to long-defunct Muscle Shoals facility. Henderson Venable Fitzbelmont, for one, will never trouble the US again, as he died of a heart attack in October 1945, at the age of fifty, while in Army custody.