The German equipment was shipped to Chemical Works No. 91 near the town of Beketovka, five miles south of Stalingrad on the banks of the Volga River. This factory had begun operation in 1929, under the first Soviet Five-Year Plan, to manufacture both civilian and military chemicals, and during World War II it had mass-produced mustard agent for the Red Army. Until the chemical apparatus from Dyhernfurth could be reassembled, it was stored in a guarded warehouse in a secure part of the factory grounds, behind high walls and barbed wire.
To assist in rebuilding the nerve agent production lines, in 1948 the Soviets brought to Stalingrad about a dozen German chemists and process engineers from Dyhernfurth who had been detained by the Red Army. The most senior of the German scientists was Dr. Bernd von Bock, the former production manager. Soon after his arrival, he was ordered to write a detailed technical report on Tabun production and was questioned at length about the metal corrosion problems associated with the manufacture of Sarin. Although Sarin was known to be militarily more effective, the Soviets decided to produce Tabun first because of the relative simplicity of the process.
Dr. Mikhailov, the chief engineer at Chemical Works No. 91, died shortly before the Tabun plant went into operation. He was replaced by Professor Leonid Zaharovich Soborovsky from Scientific Research Institute No. 42 (NII-42) in Moscow, the Soviet Union’s leading center for chemical weapons research and development. The reconstruction of the Tabun production line went smoothly, and by 1949, the Soviet Military Chemical Textbook listed Tabun as one of the chemical weapons stockpiled by the Red Army.
As East-West tensions ratcheted upward, the implications of the Soviet lead in nerve agent technology triggered alarm bells in Washington. For American military planners, the Soviet Union’s production of Tabun, combined with its potential acquisition of intercontinental-range bombers, posed an emerging strategic threat to the U.S. homeland. In an article published in March 1946 in The Saturday Evening Post, Major General Alden H. Waitt wrote, “Today, with the development of the long-range bomber, no area, however remote, is immune from gas attack.”
Given these perceptions, a chemical arms race between the superpowers was almost inevitable. In 1947, President Truman withdrew the 1925 Geneva Protocol banning the use of chemical weapons in war from the docket of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, where it had languished for two decades, indicating that the United States did not intend to ratify it.
THROUGHOUT the postwar years, Britain, Canada, and the United States intensified their collaboration on chemical weapons research, which had begun during World War II. In 1940, the British government had sought an open-air proving ground somewhere in the Commonwealth. This search had led in 1941 to the founding of the British-Canadian experimental station at Suffield in southeastern Alberta, about 30 miles northwest of Medicine Hat and 150 miles southeast of Calgary. By displacing about a hundred families, the Canadian government set aside a thousand square miles of semiarid short-grass prairie for the open-air testing of chemical weapons. Named the Suffield Experimental Station (SES), the Canadian base was remote enough to be secure from enemy attack but still reasonably accessible and close to support facilities. Initially, the research staff at SES consisted of about forty Canadian scientists, twenty British scientists, and a hundred technicians. Additional scientific teams visited from Britain and, after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, from the United States as well. By the end of World War II, the SES had a staff of nearly 600 scientists and technicians who were conducting research on chemical warfare agents, smoke, flame weapons, biological warfare, and ballistics.
In 1946, Britain, Canada, and the United States decided to formalize their collaboration by holding annual research conferences on offensive and defensive chemical warfare. The following year, the three governments signed a Tripartite Agreement giving each country access to the findings of the others and mandating a rational division of labor to avoid redundancy. They agreed, for example, that British scientists would develop a manufacturing process for Sarin (GB), while their American counterparts worked on a similar process for Ethylsarin (GE).
Another priority for the Tripartite program was to develop improved defenses against nerve agents, including detectors, protective suits, respirators, and chemical antidotes. A Royal Air Force report dated September 6, 1947, noted that the standard British gas mask gave good protection against Tabun and Sarin “provided that it is put on in time and does not leak.” Unfortunately, a significant percentage of gas masks were defective and did not provide a high level of protection. Since the toxicity of nerve agents left no margin for error, it was essential to develop an improved mask with a leakproof seal and a more efficient activated-charcoal filter. Designing this new mask involved complex technical problems that were only gradually overcome. Porton Down also developed and tested a concertina-type bellows system to give artificial respiration to soldiers whose breathing muscles had been paralyzed by exposure to nerve agent on the battlefield. Called the “Porton Resuscitator,” the device went through several stages of development before it was adopted for service use.
In addition to the extensive testing of nerve agents on experimental animals, Porton and Edgewood conducted low-dose trials involving human subjects. Edgewood drew roughly thirty volunteers a month from the 1,500 enlisted men stationed at the base. Although these individuals participated willingly in the trials, they were not fully informed of the potential risks and side effects. In 1948, for example, Edgewood scientist L. Wilson Greene reported that several soldiers who had been exposed to low concentrations of Tabun vapor had been “partially disabled from one to three weeks with fatigue, lassitude, complete loss of initiative and interest, and apathy.”
BASIC RESEARCH AT Edgewood Arsenal and Porton Down also sought to elucidate the mechanism of action of the nerve agents at the molecular level. These studies confirmed Richard Kuhn’s finding that the diverse symptoms of nerve agent poisoning result from the inhibition of cholinesterase in the peripheral and central nervous systems. Knocking out this key enzyme causes acetylcholine to accumulate in excessive amounts, disrupting the neural regulation of various target organs and wreaking havoc on the body as a whole.
Further scientific investigation revealed that many organs and tissues in the body have protein “receptor” sites to which acetylcholine binds specifically, in lock-and-key fashion, to trigger various physiological effects. Two basic types of acetylcholine receptors were identified: muscarinic receptors, which are activated selectively by the drug muscarine, and nicotinic receptors, which are activated selectively by the drug nicotine. Muscarinic receptors for acetylcholine are present on the smooth muscles that surround the airways of the lung and the gastrointestinal tract, the ciliary muscles of the eye (which control the size of the iris), and the salivary and sweat glands. Nicotinic receptors, in contrast, are present on the skeletal muscles and on certain nerve cells in the spinal cord. Both muscarinic and nicotinic acetylcholine receptors exist in the brain.
The discovery of two broad classes of acetylcholine receptors in the human body shed new light on the action of nerve agents. By inhibiting cholinesterase, nerve agents result in a surfeit of acetylcholine, which in turn overstimulates the muscarinic or nicotinic receptors on the cells of diverse target organs. The smooth muscles surrounding the bronchial tubes tighten, reducing the flow of air and causing an asthmalike shortness of breath; the muscles of the gastrointestinal tract go into spasm, resulting in abdominal cramps, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea; and the ciliary muscles in the eye constrict, reducing the iris to pinpoint dimensions with a concomitant dimming and blurring of vision. Too much acetylcholine also causes several glands to become overactive and secrete excessive amounts of nasal mucus, saliva, and sweat.
The nicotinic effects of nerve agents chiefly involve the skeletal muscles. At first, localized contractions called “fasciculations” appear, resembling ripples or worms under the skin, after which the large muscle groups begin to twitch in an uncoordi
nated manner. At higher doses of nerve agent, the skeletal muscles contract violently, causing convulsions, and then become fatigued, leading to flaccid paralysis. In the brain, nerve agents induce a mixture of nicotinic and muscarinic effects, which are manifested by seizures, loss of consciousness, generalized depression, and suppression of the breathing center. Even low-dose exposures may cause neurological and psychological disturbances that persist for days, such as an inability to think clearly, insomnia, poor concentration, and emotional swings.
It was also discovered that repeated low-level exposures to nerve agents, spaced over a period of days or weeks, have cumulative effects by progressively depleting the body’s supply of cholinesterase faster than it is replenished. Eventually a threshold of enzyme depletion is reached at which the individual begins to suffer acute symptoms of nerve agent poisoning, usually when the body’s level of the enzyme has been reduced by about 50 percent. Complete physiological recovery takes place only when the nervous system has restored its reservoir of cholinesterase, a process that may take several months.
Armed with this knowledge, British and American researchers sought to develop a more rapid and efficient means of treating nerve agent casualties on the battlefield. The standard antidote for organophosphate poisoning is the drug atropine, which blocks the muscarinic receptors for acetylcholine on the smooth muscles and glands but has less of an effect on the nicotinic receptors of the skeletal muscles. In routine medical practice, small doses of atropine are used to dilate pupils and treat heart-rhythm abnormalities, but larger doses (2 to 6 milligrams) injected intramuscularly will reduce glandular secretions and relax the smooth muscles of the bronchioles and the gastrointestinal tract.
In devising a system to administer atropine to soldiers exposed to nerve agents on the battlefield, the main challenge was speed of delivery. To provide maximum benefit, atropine must be injected into the thigh muscle within a few minutes of exposure. Because nerve-gassed soldiers would have no time to wait for a medic to arrive, they would have to self-administer the drug. Beginning in 1950, U.S. troops were issued syrettes, small collapsible metal tubes filled with a solution of atropine, with a hypodermic needle at one end. If exposed to nerve agent, a soldier had to jab the needle into his thigh muscle and inject the atropine by squeezing the tube, repeating the process at five-minute intervals until the symptoms diminished. Needless to say, many individuals were uncomfortable with this approach.
CHEMICAL ENGINEERS at Edgewood Arsenal also worked on an industrial manufacturing process for Sarin. After failing to develop a simplified four-step method, they decided to adopt the German five-step approach known as the DMHP (dimethyl hydrogen phosphite) process. But this technique entailed the use of highly toxic and corrosive ingredients, such as hydrogen fluoride gas, resulting in numerous leaks and other damage to the apparatus. In addition, a small fire in the pilot plant destroyed some of the control instruments and required rebuilding the ventilation system, causing further delays. The numerous technical problems plaguing the development of the Sarin production process at Edgewood ultimately led the U.S. Army to seek the help of German scientists. In this effort, Colonel Charles E. Loucks, a career officer in the Chemical Corps, played a prominent role.
During World War II, Loucks had managed the construction of a mustard agent production plant at Rocky Mountain Arsenal near Denver. Immediately after the war, he had served as the chief chemical officer in Tokyo during the U.S. occupation of Japan and had then returned to Washington for a tour of duty at the Pentagon. In June 1948, he began a new assignment as chief of the Chemical Division of the U.S. European Command (EUCOM), based in Heidelberg, where he was responsible for collecting intelligence on the chemical warfare programs of the major countries of Western Europe. Soon after his arrival in Heidelberg, Loucks was ordered to dispose of 6,000 tons of German chemical shells stored at the Sankt Georgen depot in southeastern Bavaria. He organized the transport by train of 350 to 500 tons of munitions per day to the northern German port of Bremerhaven, where the weapons were loaded onto U.S. Navy ships and dumped into the North Sea. This operation, carried out by German workers under the supervision of American officers, was completed without serious injuries.
A few months later, Colonel Loucks received a telephone call from a lieutenant in U.S. Army intelligence. “A man here says he can be helpful,” the officer said. “His name is Walther Schieber. Is there any information that you would like to get from him?”
Loucks had heard of Schieber, a former brigadier general in the SS who had worked for Speer’s Armaments Ministry. He had been detained at Dustbin and transferred in autumn 1946 to the Nuremberg Military Tribunal, where he had been held as a prosecution witness. But he had obtained early release by writing reports on the German chemical warfare program for U.S. Army intelligence. With no further charges pending against him, Schieber had recently returned to his hometown of Bopfingen, eighty miles southeast of Heidelberg.
Loucks expressed interest in meeting the former SS general, and on October 14, 1948, he attended a meeting at EUCOM headquarters in Heidelberg at which Schieber was present. The German had a stout build and shook Loucks’s hand firmly. He seemed eager to prove that he was on the side of the United States and its allies in the emerging confrontation with the Soviet Union. “I want you to know that if there is anything I can do to help the West, I shall do it,” he said. “Anything I can do or any information I have, I will help.”
That night, Loucks scribbled in his desk diary, “Attended conf. with Lt. Col. Taylor, Lt. Moller, and Dr. Walter [sic] Schieber—classified matters. No particular info but hope for more later, possibly when better acquainted. I’ll try to see him next time he reports in to Div. of Intell. He directed production of war gases on a rather high echelon so doesn’t have the detailed knowledge that I want, but possibly I can get the names of useful people from him. Took him to the house for a drink.”
Loucks had heard that the chemical engineers at Edgewood Arsenal were having trouble developing an industrial production process for Sarin, even with the help of experts from leading U.S. universities. He concluded that Edgewood would benefit by receiving technical advice from the German chemists and engineers who had developed the DMHP process. During his next meeting with Schieber at EUCOM, Loucks took the general aside for a private chat. “Perhaps you can help us with a problem,” he said. “Could you describe the German process to make Sarin and put it down on paper with drawings, specifications, tables, and safety measures?”
Schieber nodded. “Yes, I could arrange that.”
“What do you know about Sarin production?” Loucks asked.
Schieber explained that a full-scale Sarin manufacturing plant at Falkenhagen near Berlin had been about 80 percent finished when the war ended. To escape the advancing Red Army, most of the German chemists and engineers at Falkenhagen had fled west into the American- and British-controlled zones. “I know these people,” Schieber added. “They worked with me during the war. I could get in touch with them.”
Loucks was intrigued by this suggestion. “Would you be willing to do that? We wouldn’t expect you to do it for free. We could put you on retainer and also cover the scientists’ expenses and pay them something for their work.”
Schieber smiled and nodded.
“Well, think it over,” Loucks said. “I’d like to meet with you again after you’ve had a chance to talk to your friends.”
Two weeks later, Loucks and his wife hosted a dinner party at their home in Heidelberg and invited Schieber. That evening, Loucks jotted down his impressions of the German in his desk diary:
Dr. Walther Schieber, a chemist, brigadier general in the SS, and senior official in the Speer Ministry. Colonel Charles Loucks of the U.S. European Command (EUCOM) hired him as a consultant in 1948. Schieber in turn recruited several German chemical engineers who had worked at Falkenhagen to prepare a detailed report for the U.S. Army on the Sarin manufacturing process.
Schieber is interesting—an ind
ependent-thinking, intelligent and very competent man. He related much of his experiences with the Russians. A prisoner after 1st World War for a year. He was an honorary (?) Brigade Fuehrer of SS this last war. In confinement at Nuremberg for seven months. Quartered next to Goering until the latter killed himself. Was an admirer of Todt, later worked for Speer, was directed to report to Hitler frequently. He has many anecdotes and is a loyal German. Is willing to do anything for the future of the world and Germany.
The next morning, Friday, October 29, 1948, Loucks and a colleague drafted a cable to the chief of the Army Chemical Corps proposing that EUCOM hire Schieber and the Falkenhagen scientists to prepare a detailed report on the Sarin production process. Later that day, Loucks wrote in his desk diary, “Hope the chief will support us. If he does we’ll be able to get all of the German CW technical ability on our side and promptly. They know on what side they belong. All we need to do is treat them as human beings. They recognize the military defeat and the political and ideological defeat as well and accept it.”
On November 3, Loucks traveled to England for consultations at Porton Down, where he met with the director and other British chemical warfare experts. They discussed the types of technical information on Sarin production the German scientists might provide. Loucks noted in his diary, “It appears much is needed and that the Brits feel that engineering data has not been obtained.”
A week later, the chief of the Chemical Corps approved the proposal to hire Schieber as a consultant to EUCOM, at a generous salary of 1,000 marks per month. After Loucks had drawn up the contract, Schieber recruited six chemists and process engineers who had worked at Falkenhagen, and on December 11, Loucks hosted the first meeting of the group at his home in Heidelberg. Although the Army approved the project on January 17, 1949, the initial funding arrangements were ad hoc. Loucks complained in his diary, “I’m to get my marks to pay for the work . . . being done by Schieber by signing for 100 cartons of cigarettes. Intelligence will sell the cigs on the black market! What a way to do business. In the meantime, Washington bigshots not responsible for getting info will debate learnedly and do little or nothing. Someone should shake up the Pentagon.” The next day, however, a cable arrived from Washington stating that additional money would be forthcoming for the Schieber project.
War of Nerves Page 14