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SPYING ON THE NUCLEAR BEAR

-

Stanford Nuclear Age Series General Editor, Martin Sherwin

advisory board Barton J. Bernstein, David Holloway, and Wolfgang K. H. Panofsky

SPYING ON THE NUCLEAR BEAR Anglo-American Intelligence and the Soviet Bomb

michael s. goodman

Stanford University Press, Stanford, California 2007

Stanford University Press Stanford, California ©2007 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior University. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system without the prior written permission of Stanford University Press. Printed in the United States of America on acid-free, archival-quality paper Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Goodman, Michael S. Spying on the nuclear bear : Anglo-American intelligence and the Soviet bomb / Michael S. Goodman. p. cm. — (Stanford nuclear age series) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-8047-5585-6 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Espionage, American—History—20th century. 2. Espionage, British— History—20th century. 3. Nuclear weapons information. 4. Nuclear weapons— Soviet Union. 5. Cold War. I. Title. UB271.U5G66 2007 327.127304709'045—dc22 2007001253 Typeset by Westchester Book Group in 10/12.5 Times

This book is dedicated to Elena, Frank, Jock, and Pearl

The Stanford Nuclear Age Series

Conceived by scientists, delivered by the military, and adopted by policymakers, nuclear weapons emerged from the ashes of Hiroshima and Nagasaki to dominate our time. The politics, diplomacy, economy, and culture of the Cold War nurtured the nuclear arms race and, in turn have been altered by it. “We have had the bomb on our minds since 1945,” E. L. Doctorow observes. “It was first our weaponry and then our diplomacy, and now it’s our economy. How can we suppose that something so monstrously powerful would not, after forty years, compose our identity? The great golem we have made against our enemies is our culture, our bomb culture—its logic, its faith, its vision.” The pervasive, transformative potential of nuclear weapons was foreseen by their creators. When Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson assembled a committee in May 1945 to discuss postwar atomic energy planning, he spoke of the atomic bomb as a “revolutionary change in the relations of man to the universe.” Believing that it could mean “the doom of civilization,” he warned President Truman that this weapon “has placed a certain moral responsibility upon us which we cannot shirk without very serious responsibility for any disaster to civilization.” In the decades since World War II that responsibility has weighed heavily on American civilization. Whether or not we have met it is a matter of heated debate. But that we must meet it, and, moreover, that we must also prepare the next generation of leaders to meet it as well, is beyond question. Today, over half a century into the nuclear age the pervasive impact of the nuclear arms race has stimulated a fundamental reevaluation of the role of nuclear armaments and strategic policies. But mainstream scholarly work in

viii

The Stanford Nuclear Age Series

strategic studies has tended to focus on questions related to the developments, the deployment, and the diplomacy of nuclear arsenals. Such an exclusively managerial focus cannot probe the universal revolutionary changes about which Stimson spoke, and the need to address these changes is urgent. If the academic community is to contribute imaginatively and helpfully to the increasingly complex problems of the nuclear age, then the base of scholarship and pedagogy in the national security–arms control field must be broadened. It is this goal that the Stanford Nuclear Age Series is intended to support, with paperback reissues of important out-of-print works and original publication of new scholarship in the humanities and social sciences. Martin J. Sherwin General Editor

Contents

Acknowledgements Abbreviations

xi xiii

Introduction

1

1

Intelligence to Joe-1

7

2

Joe-1 and Beyond

36

3

Atomic Spies and Defectors

57

4

Detecting the Soviet Bomb

86

Illustrations

118

5

Renewed Collaboration: Atomic Intelligence, 1950–1954

130

6

Atomic Intelligence in the Missile Age, 1954–1958

166

Conclusion

205

Notes

219

Bibliography

267

Index

287

Acknowledgements

An extensive study such as this requires the help of numerous individuals. First and foremost I thank my two PhD supervisors from the University of Nottingham, from which this work originated, Professor Richard J. Aldrich and Professor John W. Young. Without their assistance and constant advice the finished product would have taken on a very different shape. I am also grateful to them for their support and recommendations in publishing various articles and helping me progress onto the first rung of the academic ladder. At the same time, this work would not have been possible without a three-year Art and Humanities Research Board (AHRB) research grant. Similarly, the research trip to the United States was achieved only with an AHRB travel grant, as well as funding from both the Truman and Eisenhower Presidential Libraries. Throughout the course of research, I was extremely fortunate to meet and become acquainted with many fascinating individuals. Lorna Arnold, former Atomic Energy Authority (AEA) historian, and Kate Pyne, the technical historian at Aldermaston, despite the constant classification limitations, were able to assist me hugely, Kate in particular for her local chip shop! Dr Stephen Twigge of the Foreign Office historical staff was also extremely useful, not least in facilitating my interest in scientific intelligence but also for notifying me about future releases particularly on a certain German ‘Fox.’ There are a great many more people whom I am indebted to, and their contributions can be found throughout this work. However, this book would not have been what it now is, if it were not for the myriad of former scientists, civil servants, and military figures who agreed to offer assistance. Some of these individuals declined to have their comments

xii

Acknowledgements

attributed, and I have respected this preference throughout. I was able to meet numerous former members of both British and American atomic intelligence. In addition I corresponded with a number of former workers at both Harwell and Aldermaston who had been involved in the nitty-gritty of atomic intelligence, often without knowing what it was that they were working on. Of those who can be named, I am eternally indebted to Dr Frank Panton, Major General Eric Younson, Dr Arnold Kramish, Dr Carl Romney, Chapman Pincher, Lord Flowers, Peter Kelly, and Professor Kris Mann. In addition to those who assisted me in the writing of this book, I am also immensely grateful to those working behind the scenes. My editors at Stanford University Press, Kirsten Oster and Muriel Bell, were enormously helpful, repeatedly solving problems and answering my never-ending queries. At the various repositories I utilised, the archivists, librarians, and research assistants were priceless. In addition, I am grateful to the following for permission to reproduce work: the Atomic Weapons Establishment, Aldermaston; the Department of Manuscripts and Special Collections, University of Nottingham; the National Institute of Standards and Technology; the Master and Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge; the Harry Truman Presidential Library; the Dwight Eisenhower Presidential Library; the Public Record Office, Kew; the National Archives, College Park; the English-Speaking Union; the Herbert Hoover Presidential Library; the Bodleian archives, Oxford; the Nuffield archives, Oxford; the Churchill College archives, Cambridge; and the AIP Center for the History of Physics. Researching and writing such a substantial piece of work of course overlaps with normal, everyday life. I am grateful to my friends and family for their continual support and assistance, in particular to the Leicester rabble and the late-night footballing distractions; to my late grandmother Dr Elena Zadik for her painstaking assistance in the German translations; and to my parents for their support, encouragement, and not least their financial ‘donations.’ Finally a word of thanks must go to my wife, Denise, who lost me not only to the trials and tribulations of religiously following West Ham United but also to the joys of cold war secret intelligence. Without you all this would have been impossible. Michael S. Goodman London, March 2006

Abbreviations

ABM ACAS(I) AEA AEC AEDS AEIU AERE AFB AFOAT-1 AFTAC AWRE BAOR Be-7 BJSM ‘C’ CAS CDA CIA CIG COS CPC CSA D.At.En.

antiballistic missile assistant chief of the Air Staff (Intelligence) (UK) Atomic Energy Authority (UK) Atomic Energy Commission (US) Atomic Energy Detection System (US) Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit (UK) Atomic Energy Research Establishment, Harwell (UK) Air Force Base (US) Air Force, deputy chief of staff for operations, Atomic Energy Office, Section One (US) Air Force Technical Applications Center (US) Atomic Weapons Research Establishment, Aldermaston (UK) British Army of the Rhine (UK) beryllium-7 British Joint Services Mission (UK) Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service (UK) Chief of the Air Staff (UK) Combined Development Agency (UK/US) Central Intelligence Agency (US) Central Intelligence Group (US) Chiefs of Staff (UK) Combined Policy Committee (US/UK) Chief Scientific Adviser, Ministry of Defence (UK) Directorate of Atomic Energy (UK)

xiv

Abbreviations

D.At.En.(In) DCI DoD DOE DRPC DRPS DSI ELINT EMP FO GCHQ GRU HE ICBM INW IRD JAEIC JCS JIB JIC JIS JNEIC JS/JTIC KGB Kr-85 KT LASL Li-6 MED MIRV MoD MoS MT MVD NATO NEG NRL

Directorate of Atomic Energy (Intelligence) (UK) Director of Central Intelligence (US) Department of Defense (US) Department of Energy (US) Defence Research Policy Committee (UK) Defence Research Policy Staff (UK) Directorate of Scientific Intelligence (UK) electronic intelligence electromagnetic pulse Foreign Office (UK) Government Communications Headquarters (UK) Glavnoye Razvedyvatelnoye Upravlenie (Soviet Military Intelligence) (USSR) high explosive intercontinental ballistic missile Intelligence on Nuclear Weapons (UK) Information Research Department (UK) Joint Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee (US) Joint Chiefs of Staff (US) Joint Intelligence Bureau (UK) Joint Intelligence Committee (UK) Joint Intelligence Staff (UK) Joint Nuclear Energy Intelligence Committee (US) Joint Scientific/Technical Intelligence Committee (UK) Komitet Gosudasrtstvennoy Bezopasnosti (Committee of State Security) (USSR) krypton-85 kiloton Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory (US) Lithium-6 Manhattan Engineering District (US) Multiple Independently Targetable Reentry Vehicle Ministry of Defence (UK) Ministry of Supply (UK) megaton Ministerstvo Vnutrennikh Del (Soviet Ministry of Internal Affairs) (USSR) North Atlantic Treaty Organisation Nuclear Energy Group (US) Naval Research Laboratory (US)

Abbreviations

NSC OAW PoW RAAF RAF RDS SAC SAF SAM SEFT SIS SMS SOE STIB TA TAL TCS TRE TRU USAF

National Security Council (US) Operational use of Atomic Weapons (UK) prisoner of war Royal Australian Air Force Royal Air Force (UK) Reaktivnyi Dvigatel Stalina (Stalin’s Rocket engine) (USSR) Strategic Air Command (US) Soviet Air Force surface-to-air missile Scientific Evaluation of Foreign Tests (UK) Secret Intelligence Service (UK) Special Monitoring Service (USSR) Special Operations Executive (UK) Scientific and Technical Intelligence Branch (UK) Tube Alloys (UK) Technical Atomic Liaison/Tube Alloys Liaison (UK) Technical Co-ordinating Section (UK) Telecommunications Research Establishment (UK) Technical Research Unit (UK) United States Air Force

xv

What I want you to realise is that men like myself . . . are responsible for relating these factors of possibility and practicability to given dates in the future. Moreover, these forecasts must be detailed down to the most minute specialist field. . . . Someone has to decide, on the best available evidence and indication, what is practical and possible by some given date. The evidence may be tenuous, almost non-existent. It may give no more than an indication of the line on which the others are working but the decision must be made and, I emphasise, it must be made well in advance. . . . We have a heavy responsibility, for we must supply those who look into the future with every particle of evidence which we can obtain. . . . No man, no group of peoples, no policies, can at this stage prevent the onward march of science and technology . . . but this much is certain; an aggressor goes to war only if he believes himself more powerful than his victim. An accurate scientific and technical appreciation of a potential enemy is not only the key to our defence in the future, but may well be a vital factor in maintaining peace in our time. ‘Crystal Gazing’ Lecture by David Evans, Head of the Scientific and Technical Intelligence Branch, Germany, November 1948

Introduction The Cold War was fought, above all, by the intelligence services. Now that this conflict is over, a struggle is being waged to understand the role of the hidden hand and its work behind the scenes. Richard J. Aldrich1

On 16 July 1945 in the New Mexico desert the world entered the atomic age. Trinity, as the explosion was code-named, was detonated at 5:30 in the morning. Though the device was moderately low yield, the test had a profound impact on its observers. Isador Rabi, a Manhattan Project scientist and future scientific adviser to President Eisenhower, recorded that ‘a new thing had just been born; a new control; a new understanding of man, which man had acquired over nature.’2 Four years and one month later, near the town of Semipalatinsk in the Khazak steppe, a similar fission device was detonated, also atop a tower, and the Soviet Union became the second nation to join the nuclear high table. Beginning with the outbreak of war in 1939, British intelligence had been concerned with enemy developments directed towards the military harnessing of atomic energy. As the Second World War progressed, the Allied atomic bomb programme made successful advances, culminating in the Trinity test explosion. By contrast, German scientists were unable to master the technology involved and pulled out of the race well before the final lap. British intelligence had been kept abreast of German progress primarily through the successes of well-placed agents.3 At various stages throughout the latter half of the war, different departments within Whitehall began to consider where the next threat might come from. Of these, perhaps the first two were the armed forces and the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS), which quickly zeroed in on the Soviet Union. In many respects, therefore, although the Foreign Office had not yet come on board, the defence and overseas intelligence branches of the British government had

2

Introduction

found their postwar enemy. The result was an awareness, even before the war had ended, that the Soviet Union needed to be watched. In America a very similar realisation occurred. This factor, taken together with the truly devastating nature of nuclear weapons, meant that any future war would be very different in nature than any previous conflict. Accordingly, from 1945, information on the Soviet nuclear weapons programme became the highest priority for British and American intelligence.4 From 1945 until 1958, intelligence on the Soviet nuclear weapons programme was vital to Anglo-American intelligence and military planning. This period can be separated into three distinct stages: 1945–49, 1950–54, and 1954–58. During the first stage, 1945–49, in both countries atomic intelligence evolved from piecemeal wartime organisations into independent but integral components of the intelligence machinery. In Britain atomic intelligence was thus able to withstand numerous attempts to ‘regularise’ its setup into the traditional scientific intelligence organisation. Throughout this period, the primary intelligence concern was predicting when the Soviets would break the American atomic monopoly. In August 1949, a matter of two or three years before predicted, the Soviet Union achieved such a feat. Although Britain enjoyed close relations with America throughout this period, the British were severely hampered by the passing of the 1946 U.S. Atomic Energy (or more commonly McMahon) Act, which had severed the exchange of technical information between the two countries. Following Joe-1, as the first Soviet explosion became known, in 1949, Anglo-American atomic intelligence relations grew considerably closer. The primary intelligence targets at this time were to both predict and detect subsequent Soviet technological advances in the atomic sphere. For this latter aspect, the British were reliant upon the Anglo-American long-range-detection network, which had been introduced in the late 1940s. Though it had detected Joe-1 successfully, in the early 1950s it grew into a larger and far more substantial organisation. Intelligence collection was better in this period than in the earlier one, with good information provided on the locations of Soviet atomic-related plants and sites. Every stage of this period would be characterised by extremely close and amiable Anglo-American relations, exhibited in the long-range-detection programme and the related Operation Nomination, which aimed to assess Soviet amounts of plutonium. Another characteristic of the 1950–54 period was the success of Soviet espionage in penetrating British and American political, scientific, and intelligence circles. Following in quick succession were the treacheries of Klaus

Introduction

3

Fuchs, Bruno Pontecorvo, Donald Maclean, Guy Burgess, and a host of other figures. Each of these men was involved, to a greater or lesser degree, in these fields; furthermore, in their different roles they were able to complement each other closely. The impact of these spies was considerable, yet British intelligence in particular was markedly slow to comprehend the level of Soviet penetration. Indeed, it was not until suspicions against Kim Philby were seriously contemplated in the mid-1950s that the British ever realistically considered the belief that the Soviets may have more, as yet undisclosed, spies. In 1954, and again in mid-1955, the United States passed further revisions to the McMahon Act, which served to bring British and American atomic intelligence relations closer. An extensive review of the British atomic intelligence organisation in 1954 found that both its head, Eric Welsh, and its organisation as separate from the rest of scientific intelligence remained the ideal configuration. Both had been the source of constant criticism by successive directors of scientific intelligence, but the Daniel Report—as the review was known—gave overwhelming support for its continuation. At this time the atomic intelligence unit moved from the Ministry of Supply, where it had been housed since the war, to the Ministry of Defence. This was an important transfer because it moved atomic intelligence closer to the military strategists not only physically (in that they shared a building) but also in terms of the relationship between estimates and planning. Throughout the final period, from 1954 to 1958, British atomic intelligence continued to move closer to its American cousins. Through the continuation of the long-range-detection network, coupled with the successor to Operation Nomination—the Music Programme—Anglo-American atomic intelligence was to become almost symbiotic: in effect a ‘special relationship’ within the broader, more commonly referred to special relationship. Relations improved once more with the detection of Sputnik in late 1957 and the realisation that the United States was more vulnerable to a Soviet strike than hitherto thought. In Britain, Sputnik and the advent of major missile programmes resulted in a further reorganisation of atomic intelligence, with the organisation moving into the Joint Intelligence Bureau and thus working side by side with the rest of scientific intelligence. In 1958 three tumultuous events were to occur; the building blocks of each had the Anglo-American atomic intelligence partnership as a foundation. Firstly, in July an East-West conference was held in Geneva to discuss various monitoring methods necessary to police a possible nuclear test ban. Secondly, at the same time moves were made in the United States to terminate the McMahon Act and resurrect full technical partnership with the British. Finally,

4

Introduction

out in the Pacific, Britain exploded various thermonuclear devices. By 1958, therefore, Britain had joined the thermonuclear high table, full information exchange with the Americans had been restored, and discussions about a test ban had begun. In 2000 Stephen Twigge and Len Scott wrote that ‘any analysis of British [or indeed American] nuclear intelligence is as tentative as many of the estimates themselves at the time.’5 Despite such a sombre assessment, it has been possible to unearth a considerable amount of material on British and American atomic intelligence. Any study concerned with the affairs of government must start with an examination of the archival documents. Given the nature and scope of the subject, this process involved consulting papers in Britain, the United States, and Australia. In addition to national archives, it was also necessary to examine presidential archives and a vast number of collections of personal papers. Archives, however, are merely the starting point of an effective research programme. With a resistant subject, for which material is still considered very secret because of both its atomic and intelligence nature, only a finite amount of material will be considered suitable for declassification. Similarly, in the affairs of government it is very difficult to ascertain a feeling of the time or of the personalities present from documents alone. Thus, just as important as archival research is locating and interviewing participants from the era. This, of course, poses several problems: Firstly, many of the individuals involved would, by virtue of their positions, be senior figures in their respective departments. Hence, individuals who were active in British and American intelligence in a period beginning in 1945 would, by the twenty-first century, be of a venerable age; indeed, even those from 1958 are very senior in years. Despite such problems, communication through a variety of formats was absolutely essential to the progression of this work. Fortunately, many of the leading figures on both sides of the Atlantic, and indeed some further afield, were willing to contribute. In addition, whilst in some instances the persons in question had passed away, their children were prepared to offer access to their private papers, none of which had been utilised before. The quality and nature of these private collections varied considerably: The papers of Dr Bertie Blount, director of British scientific intelligence in the late 1940s and early 1950s, were very disappointing and revealed little; in contrast, the papers of Dr Wilfrid Mann, the atomic intelligence liaison with the United States in the late 1940s, were quite revelatory. The result of these endeavours offers a rejoinder to Twigge and Scott’s assertion: Research of a comprehensive kind,

Introduction

5

incorporating both archives and interviews, enables the researcher to reach firm conclusions in the realm of atomic intelligence. If historiography is taken to be ‘the study of the history of historical study,’ then arguably, ‘the historiography of a hotly disputed subject may be said to have begun when historians shift their attention from one set of questions to another.’6 The problem is that in cold war history, the changing patterns of interpretation, which take the form ‘orthodox,’ ‘revisionist,’ ‘postrevisionist,’ and so on, have often been preoccupied with the same questions of responsibility. These familiar schools of interpretation have only a marginal bearing upon the relatively new area of atomic intelligence. Atomic issues were central to intelligence matters, and their prognoses often had a major influence upon cold war strategy or defence procurement. Until recently, we have only enjoyed detailed accounts of wartime atomic intelligence—specifically the various Alsos missions designed to recover information from a newly occupied Germany.7 Before the late 1990s, the only glimpses of postwar atomic intelligence were offered by actual participants.8 Accordingly, before the mid-1990s historians had to surmise the state of postwar atomic intelligence from one or two documents that had escaped the attentions of the declassification reviewers. A number of recent books devote sections to atomic intelligence, and, in general, they all employ abundant new material, yet they are all lacking in one way or another. Peter Hennessy’s The Secret State and Sir Percy Cradock’s Know Your Enemy view the field of atomic intelligence solely from the perspective of the British Joint Intelligence Committee.9 Aldrich’s The Hidden Hand and Twigge and Scott’s Planning Armageddon use a more eclectic range of recently released materials from Britain and the United States. Aldrich’s vast tome takes the perspective of Anglo-American intelligence, while Twigge and Scott’s account examines the Anglo-American nuclear partnership. These two books complement each other in providing new material on AngloAmerican cooperation and conflict during one of the ‘hotter’ periods of the cold war. At the same time, the amount of space they devote to the subject is inverse to its importance. There is also a growing body of work about the US atomic intelligence programme.10 These accounts differ from the British ones primarily because of the nature of the postwar US intelligence community and in particular its notable decentralisation. It is possible, therefore, to evaluate the different strands of the intelligence community. For example, Aronsen concentrates solely on US Air Force intelligence, also providing a very one-dimensional account.11 Charles Ziegler and David Jacobson, in their pathbreaking account of

6

Introduction

the origins of the US nuclear-monitoring network, instead focus on the other agencies, in particular the CIA rather than the military.12 Perhaps the best information comes from CIA atomic intelligence analyst Henry Lowenhaupt, who, of all the authors, was the only one actively involved in atomic intelligence over a sustained period.13 Attempting to deal with the historiography of a recently opened field is, by definition, paradoxical: While atomic intelligence was—for so long—top priority for Britain’s and America’s secret services, as yet only an insubstantial body of historical work exists.14 Work on British aspects of this subject has lagged far behind comparable work on American aspects, a circumstance that is thrown into dramatic relief when one considers that Lawrence Freedman’s pathbreaking study, US Intelligence and the Soviet Strategic Threat, was first published in 1977.15 But even in the United States, where the theology of strategic estimates has been a mainstream subject for so many years, the real frontline business of atomic-intelligence gathering has remained remarkably low profile.16 Spying on the Nuclear Bear fills this void. Charting new territory, it revises traditional accounts of Anglo-American nuclear relations and intelligence cooperation.

C

H

A

P

T

E

R

1

11

Intelligence to Joe-1 Then plump came the Atomic Bomb. At a blow the balance which had now seemed set and steady was rudely shaken. Sir Archibald Clark-Kerr, British Ambassador to the Soviet Union1

Even before the end of the struggle with Nazi Germany, the Soviet Union had been identified as the next potential threat to British and American security. The Soviet menace was intensified by the revolution in methods of war. The bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki had heralded the start of the atomic age, and the British government in particular rapidly integrated this with the United Kingdom’s vulnerability. Intelligence indicated that the Soviet Union had launched a full-scale programme whose goal was the development of an atomic bomb, and this became the primary concern of the United Kingdom’s postwar intelligence machinery. Following the termination of the Second World War, it was decided that British atomic intelligence would remain separate from the rest of scientific intelligence, just as it had been during the war. The reasoning behind this decision was simple—to mirror the American organisation and thereby ensure the maximum level of Anglo-American collaboration. This decision was to have long-term repercussions within the British intelligence establishment, with continual attempts to absorb the atomic intelligence unit back into scientific intelligence. The move also signified how secret atomic matters were within Whitehall, for it signalled the government’s desire to keep the circle of those in the know as small as possible. Although the Soviet atomic programme became the top priority for British intelligence, collected information was inadequate after World War II. Signals and human intelligence during the war had proved invaluable in the defeat of the Axis powers, yet against the secure police state of the Soviet Union, intelligence efforts proved far less successful. Indeed, without adequate information

8

Intelligence to Joe-1

from covert intelligence sources on atomic matters, British and American intelligence was increasingly forced to rely upon overt open-source intelligence. To produce the estimates that were considered so vital, intelligence agencies used assumptions centred on a mirror-image interpretation of Soviet atomic developments from the Anglo-American programme. Anglo-American collaboration—although very substantial during the war— quickly began to dissipate with the passing in 1946 of the Atomic Energy Act, which all but severed the nations’ technical links. The only significant strand that remained was through the atomic intelligence ‘special relationship’— operationalised through various formal and informal links. The act was cunningly circumvented by the head of British atomic intelligence, Eric Welsh, who was able to procure significant information and, vitally, resurrect relations with Britain’s most cherished partner. On a wider plane, Welsh made a secretive but nevertheless remarkably significant contribution to sustaining the AngloAmerican atomic relationship. Welsh, an often criticised figure, in fact was crucial to atomic intelligence and in this period was able to install many avenues that would later prove successful. Organisation of Postwar Atomic Intelligence

British atomic intelligence has traditionally been criticised both for its eccentric organisation as separate from the rest of scientific intelligence, and for continuing to employ wartime head Eric Welsh.2 In fact there were sound reasons behind this decision to emphasise continuity, for it was realised from the outset that the preservation of Anglo-American relations was paramount. Despite such critiques, Welsh’s organisation was extremely flexible and well suited to its task, being composed of officers assigned to liaise with other government departments. Through such figures atomic intelligence was able to forge excellent relations within Whitehall and, from 1948 onwards, with its American counterparts. The Second World War was highly significant for many reasons, but its termination in the Pacific opened a new chapter in future warfare, and in this sense ‘the introduction of the atomic bomb was the greatest event of the war.’3 Immediately following the cessation of conflict, British intelligence began to collect information on the atomic programmes of numerous different nations, but as the cold war grew hotter, it was the atomic programme of the Soviet Union that became of supreme concern. British wartime atomic intelligence had never effectively been based within one specific unit. In the postwar period there was initially some uncertainty as to the composition and organisation of the atomic intelligence unit.

Intelligence to Joe-1

9

Although the Soviet nuclear weapons programme was the primary focus, it was decided that the atomic intelligence unit should be remain separate from scientific intelligence, primarily to meet American concerns and so maintain cordial relations. This rationale was shaken with the passing of the 1946 Atomic Energy Act, which ceased technical information exchange across the Atlantic. Despite this downturn in the Anglo-American intelligence relationship, Britain’s atomic intelligence was to remain separate from scientific intelligence, a move that was to generate continual confrontation. The decision was a sensible one, though. While Britain did not accurately gauge Soviet progress, arguably this failure was not the result of its organisation; rather, it was a reflection of the precise difficulties in penetrating a highly secret programme concealed within a secure police state. One of the first apparatuses of the British government to identify the Soviet Union as a potential enemy was the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS).4 Consequently, more than a year before the war had ended a new department had been set up within SIS—Section IX—responsible for counterespionage against the Soviet Union.5 The military was also quick to realise the threat posed and, significantly, identified how it would threaten British interests: ‘It is possible that with her [the Soviet Union’s] inevitable increase of stature, following her re-birth in the present war, she may adopt an expansionist policy. . . . It is fairly certain that any expansionist aspirations which Russia may cherish would at some stage bring her into conflict with the strategic interests of the British Empire.’6 The Foreign Office was slower to alter its wartime impression of the former communist ally, but some senior officials had certainly done so by mid1945, paving the way for an emerging consensus across Whitehall.7 The Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) concluded in October 1945 that ‘atomic developments [are] the paramount potentiality of the future,’ and as such an accurate awareness of the progress of the Soviet programme was identified as crucial to strategic planning.8 This perception was typified by views preponderant in the higher echelons of the Royal Air Force (RAF), that ‘we should recognise that “cold war” is just as much a war as a “shooting war.” It is artificial to maintain that there is any real distinction between these two methods of launching aggression.’9 Consequently, as Paul Lashmar has stated, by the end of 1945, the wartime image of the Soviet Union as ‘my enemy’s enemy, my friend’ was no longer considered applicable.10 Underpinning growing military anxiety was an early recognition of Britain’s vulnerability to new weapons and methods of war. In November 1944 Churchill’s scientific adviser, Sir Henry Tizard, had been asked to chair a committee designed to assess the impact of new weapons. Tizard’s report, ‘Future

10

Intelligence to Joe-1

Developments in Weapons and Methods of War,’ was written before the atomic bombs were dropped on Japan, though, and its author had not had access to information on the development of atomic weapons. The official report of the British mission to survey the atomic damage to Japan drew comparisons with what might be expected of a similar attack on Britain, and case studies were drawn up, usually radiating out from Trafalgar Square.11 The subsequent revision in 1946 of the Tizard Report took these factors into account, stressing the difference in the number of atomic bombs needed to bring about the collapse of Britain compared to the Soviet Union, and emphasising the terrible vulnerability Britain faced.12 The revised Tizard Report represents a seminal moment in the history of British strategic thought. It had an immediate, terrifying effect on the Chiefs of Staff (COS). In considering the military potential of atomic weapons, ballistic missiles, biological and chemical warfare, and the new generation of aircraft, the COS were rightly concerned about Britain’s proximity to the Soviet Union. One result, from a strategic perspective, was the recommendation that Britain develop an atomic bomb as a countermeasure.13 By the end of 1945, Britain had already adopted an embryonic form of defence through deterrence as its long-term goal. The implications of this strategy, and the impression held by the JIC of the emerging Soviet threat, made more pressing the need for a postwar atomic intelligence organisation. Central to these deliberations, as former JIC chairman Sir Percy Cradock has identified, was the urgent need for an accurate estimation of when the Soviet Union would break the American atomic monopoly: ‘Once the enemy was identified, the question for the analysts became the seriousness and immediacy of the threat that she posed.’14 Accordingly, atomic intelligence was designated as a ‘priority one’ area for the intelligence services—the highest possible.15 What was known of the Soviet project at the time of the Japanese bombings? The discovery of nuclear fission in the late 1930s had been well documented around the world, though its subsequent confirmation by Soviet physicists in 1940 received only the briefest of notices.16 From then on and throughout the war years there were reports of lectures and articles in the Soviet Union on the atomic bomb, to the extent that a British atomic intelligence report could conclude that ‘it seems most likely that the work done by the Russians on nuclear fission during the war led them to believe that utilisation of it was impracticable: in that case the trigger for their all-out effort was the dropping of the first bomb in August 1945.’17 One of the major reasons for such a belief was the reported reaction of Peter Kapitza—the physicist erroneously believed to have been in charge of the

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Soviet programme at that point—to news of the Hiroshima bomb: ‘Kapitza came out of the house in a state of great excitement, having been listening to the news, and blurted out that he had just heard that the first atomic bomb had been dropped, and that he had not expected it so soon nor that the British and Americans were so far ahead of the Russians. This evidently came out spontaneously in the excitement of the moment.’18 Another consideration was the perceived lack of Soviet interest in the German nuclear programme before August 1945, and the lack of Soviet interest in searching for uranium deposits.19 Evidence did indicate, however, that from August 1945 onwards the Soviets had taken a renewed interest, to the extent that Frank Roberts of the British embassy in Moscow could state that ‘the Soviet Government were now spending “millions of their gold” on pushing forward the industrial production of the atomic bomb.’20 In fact, British intelligence was accurate in its assumption that the Soviet project gained impetus from the atomic bombings. As David Holloway has observed, ‘The decision of August 1945 was simple. . . . American possession of the atomic bomb threatened the gains made by the Soviet Union in the war; only the elimination of the American monopoly could remove the threat.’21 Atomic intelligence was not a new concept to the British intelligence establishment: During the war there had existed a unit designed to identify and counter German progress.22 This unit had been kept separate from the rest of scientific intelligence. In the reorganisation of scientific intelligence immediately after the war, it was questioned whether scientific and atomic intelligence should be combined to produce a more comprehensive and efficient system. The head of SIS, Sir Stewart Menzies (referred to as the Chief of the Secret Service [CSS] or more commonly ‘C’), was in favour of unifying scientific and technical intelligence; however, opposition to the merger grew. By late 1945, Britain’s primary concern was to preserve and maintain cordial relations with the United States in the area of atomic intelligence. Sir John Anderson, chairman of the Tube Alloys (TA) Advisory Committee, saw the continuation of the wartime system (with atomic intelligence kept separate from scientific intelligence) as the best means of ensuring the maximum intelligence collaboration, as it conformed to the American arrangement.23 Thus he was instrumental in bringing about a British system that reflected the American one. A related consideration was that Britain’s maintenance of an intelligence system that reflected that of the United States provided greater security, a high priority for Washington.24 This argument was accepted by the JIC, which ‘wished to continue the closest cooperation with USA both technically and because the majority of intelligence came from American sources’; therefore,

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‘the[y] did not wish to take the initiative in proposing any alternative to the existing arrangements.’25 Atomic intelligence consequently fell under the responsibility of the Directorate of Atomic Energy (D.At.En.) within the Ministry of Supply. The intelligence component was known as D.At.En.(In). Created in the 1945 reforms of scientific intelligence were the new Joint Scientific Intelligence Committee (JSIC) and the Joint Technical Intelligence Committee (JTIC). These two committees were composed of members of the various scientific units within the services’ intelligence organisations, as well as the new Directorate of Scientific Intelligence. Both were subsequently merged into the Joint Scientific and Technical Intelligence Committee (JS/JTIC).26 Although the D.At.En.(In) was kept separate from these two bodies, by 1946 there existed a JS/JTIC atomic energy working party whose responsibilities were to ‘exchange and collate on an inter-service basis all intelligence available on the subject.’ However, the members of this working party were not automatically cleared to receive the reports of the atomic intelligence unit.27 Moreover, technical and scientific intelligence had become an arena of endless interservice infighting in Whitehall. The D.At.En.(In) was a small outfit headed by Lieutenant Commander Eric Welsh, RNVR, OBE, CMG. During the war Welsh had initially been involved in naval intelligence but had transferred to the Norwegian section of SIS and eventually became its head. As a result of the German production of heavy water at the plant in Norway and the British intelligence operations against it, Welsh became intertwined in atomic intelligence, eventually becoming the SIS representative on the wartime Anglo-American atomic intelligence committee. As one former colleague has recalled, Welsh had an almost ‘feminine intuition for things’ and often followed his hunches. A very secretive figure, Welsh wrote everything down in a little black book, much to the consternation of colleagues, who could never get near it. Upon his death in 1954 it is rumoured that Special Branch raided his house but found nothing.28 Although he had no formal scientific qualifications, Welsh incorrectly liked to refer to himself as the only SIS officer with a science degree.29 He maintained excellent personal relations with atomic scientists whom he called upon for assistance in scientific evaluations, and by the time of his death his network of contacts was immense. Welsh also worked closely with Michael Perrin, one of the deputy controllers for atomic energy in the Ministry of Supply. Perrin, a scientist formerly with Imperial Chemical Industries (ICI), had been involved with Welsh on wartime intelligence estimates of the German atomic programme and was cleared to the highest levels. The D.At.En.(In) was an analytical body responsible for the collation and interpretation of reports but not the actual collection of information. The

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D.At.En.(In) passed its reports to the JIC, where they were deliberated and passed up to the Chiefs of Staff. As it was not directly involved in collecting information, the unit was reliant on frontline organisations for intelligence. In fact, Welsh’s ‘clique,’ as one former member has described it, had a strange dual life, having both an overt and a covert existence. This was also to be the case with its future incarnations. The main body of the unit existed overtly. Although this does not mean that its existence was admitted to or that its activities were open to other government departments, it was located less secretly than its covert branch within the Ministry of Supply. This small body comprised less than ten people (excluding secretaries) and was headed by Welsh. It also included a liaison officer with Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ), a collator, various scientific figures including a physicist and a geologist, a liaison with the Americans, and several seconded RAF officers. The unit’s members proudly referred to themselves as the ‘slaves.’ There were annual Christmas parties held at the nearby Adelphi Hotel, with special prizes for games and dancing.30 The unit was located on the fourth floor of Shell Mex House on the Strand, and its home was referred to as ‘the Cage’ because of its secure grille-like housing.31 To enter, one had to be admitted by an armed guard, who unlocked an entry gate positioned within a network of horizontal and vertical bars.32 In fact, by the early 1950s this security procedure had begun to cause some problems, for the ‘close checking at the gate’ had created ‘delays’ in admitting visitors to the inner sanctum.33 Welsh, and subsequent directors and deputy directors, also wore another ‘hat,’ as they were in fact SIS officers, and this is why ‘C’ (at this time Sir Stewart Menzies) had played such an integral role in the discussions leading up to the unit’s formation. The wartime reorganisation of SIS had created a new Requirements Directorate—R7—which was responsible for scientific intelligence.34 In the postwar SIS, this unit became R9, or the Technical Coordinating Section (TCS)—the scientific division.35 Philip Davies has written that atomic intelligence was initially separated from the rest of SIS scientific intelligence, but this division was short-lived and atomic intelligence was soon reabsorbed, with R9 once more becoming R7.36 One former member, however, has testified that atomic intelligence was never part of TSC’s (R9) remit, though there was some operational overlap, for example, in Germany (see Chapter 5). Both units were, however, housed in the same place and had daily close liaison. Regardless of its positioning, atomic intelligence within SIS was referred to as TAL. It is not completely certain whether TAL referred to Technical Atomic Liaison or Tube Alloys Liaison, but the unit’s role was clear. Within an extremely

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secretive organisation, TAL was one of the most clandestine aspects, so surreptitious that ‘operational officers had only the vaguest understanding of it.’37 Just how secret TAL was is exemplified by the following anecdote from a former TAL member: Welsh often attended the meetings of SIS directorate heads. At one meeting he was quietly asked by one colleague which directorate he headed, as he was never introduced; Welsh replied that it was too secret to mention. Regardless of whether TAL was part of or separate from the rest of SIS scientific intelligence, Welsh himself had a direct line of access to ‘C’, the head of SIS. Similarly, because TAL had its own budget, Welsh could exert a level of influence over the process of selecting intelligence targets for which information was desired. In this way SIS played an integral role in atomic intelligence during the 1940s and 1950s. As is discussed in Chapter 4, the foreign stations tasked to monitor Soviet nuclear tests were controlled by SIS. Similarly, TAL gave orders to other SIS directorates to obtain information on various parts of the Soviet Union. Welsh, through SIS channels, would also provide intelligence requirements for overflights of Soviet atomic targets to the Joint Air Photographic Intelligence Board.38 The D.At.En.(In) was therefore, in many respects, essentially a coordinating body. Through its links with the various intelligence-collection bodies, Welsh could provide some indication of targets. Through its links with the scientific establishments, collected information could be analysed. Through its central positioning within the British intelligence machinery, reports were then issued to its parent body, the Joint Intelligence Committee, for dissemination to senior policymakers. So despite its solitary existence, Welsh’s outfit had numerous links to the organisations that it was reliant upon. Anglo-American Atomic Intelligence ‘Special Relationship’

The semidetached organisation of British atomic intelligence reflected the British government’s intense desire to preserve Anglo-American intelligence collaboration. Accordingly, in the immediate postwar period it was designed to deliberately mirror American arrangements. This effort must have been successful, because in a review of the British intelligence establishment by Air Chief Marshal Sir Douglas Evill in 1947, it was recommended that the status of atomic intelligence as separate from scientific intelligence remain unchanged in order to preserve relations with the United States.39 Therefore, before considering the details of this collaboration, it is first necessary to examine the nature of the US atomic intelligence organisation. During the war, US atomic intelligence had been located, along with the rest of atomic-related matters, within the Manhattan Engineering District

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(MED); it had therefore come under the control of General Leslie Groves.40 In 1946, control for atomic energy passed from military to civil hands; this transfer became the cornerstone of the Atomic Energy or McMahon Act, so named after Senator Brien McMahon. The act created the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC), which adopted the Foreign Intelligence Section of the MED.41 To facilitate matters, the Director of Central Intelligence (DCI) was authorised to ‘coordinate all intelligence information related to foreign atomic energy developments and potentialities,’ thereby ensuring the ‘correlation, evaluation and appropriate dissemination within the Government of the resulting intelligence.’42 In 1947 President Truman signed the National Security Act, therein creating the Central Intelligence Agency. This act resulted in a comprehensive reorganisation and evaluation of the existing intelligence departments. To this end, Admiral Sidney Souers, a former Director of Central Intelligence, was tasked with writing a report offering recommendations and requirements for an atomic intelligence organisation for the AEC.43 Souers’ task was vital: The reorganisation of the American government intelligence machinery had resulted in numerous conflicts and confrontations amongst the different agencies. In terms of atomic matters, this disagreement had created a ‘critical situation,’ whereby the intelligence section of the AEC and the scientific branch of the fledgling CIA were competing in intelligence matters.44 Although recently formed, the CIA’s scientific branch had quickly spawned a Nuclear Energy Group (NEG). Souers’ report, ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ was completed in mid-1947. He concluded that the AEC intelligence unit should be responsible for initiating and participating in the collection of covert intelligence and for its evaluation. Despite this recommendation, Souers recognised that the intelligence agencies of the State, War, and Navy departments (at this time the air force was still part of the army) should be involved in the production of estimates. Consequently, the director of intelligence within the AEC should become a permanent member of the US Intelligence Advisory Board, a steering body that enjoyed managerial functions similar to the British Joint Intelligence Committee.45 The report therefore aimed to resolve the ‘critical situation’ by taking the NEG’s ‘almost exclusive’ control of atomic intelligence and passing it to the intelligence unit within the AEC.46 In addition to the NEG, a new body was initiated within the CIA: the Joint Nuclear Energy Intelligence Committee. This committee comprised representatives of the intelligence organisations of the CIA, army, navy, air force, State Department, and AEC, with the aim of producing a joint estimate of the Soviet atomic programme.47

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‘The peculiar situation with regard to nuclear weapons,’ according to the official internal history of Allen Dulles’ tenure as DCI, ‘was quite different from any other weapons system.’48 Despite the existence of a committee designed to coordinate and unify intelligence assessments, problems within the US atomic intelligence network, typified by AEC-CIA hostilities, remained, primarily because of the presence of various bodies with overlapping objectives. The AEC intelligence unit was initially headed by Rear Admiral John E. Gingrich. However, he was replaced in early 1948 by Dr Walter F. Colby, a move deliberately designed to ‘bridge the gap between [the] AEC and CIA,’ principally because Colby had previously been involved in wartime intelligence work. Hence, for the first time Colby, or anyone from the AEC, was to have full access to NEG raw material, and in return the AEC would offer its technical expertise in the assessment of such material.49 Although, as is discussed in the next chapter, there were differences in terms of estimates, general relations did now improve. The move also seems to have ended the assertions by the scientific intelligence branch of the CIA that it should absorb the NEG. In this way, atomic intelligence was to remain separate from mainstream scientific intelligence in the United States.50 Colby would prove to be a fortuitous appointment from a British perspective. A professor of physics at the University of Michigan, Walter Colby, like Eric Welsh, had been involved in the wartime Alsos mission to examine German nuclear progress; he had also subsequently acted as a consultant to the CIA.51 Importantly, and as a result of the shake-up, the AEC lost its responsibility for intelligence collection and instead became a collation agency whose duty was to identify potential sources of information. Also, like Welsh’s unit, Colby’s team was small, comprising a deputy and three intelligence specialists, one of whom would act as liaison with other countries.52 Given that the postwar British atomic intelligence organisation was designed to ensure the maximum possible collaboration with the United States, what was the texture of this relationship? In 1946 before the passing of the McMahon Act there had been a London-based representative of the Foreign Intelligence Section of the MED, Colonel Edgar Dean, who had held the nominal rank of assistant military attaché at the US embassy. Similarly, a member of Welsh’s unit, the geologist David Gattiker, was liaison for the British in Washington.53 Following the creation of the CIA in 1947, this relationship became ‘normalised,’ with the effect that instead of personal liaisons there were more general country-tocountry liaison channels through which atomic intelligence flowed.54 Although this link remained after 1946, the McMahon Act had a detrimental effect on atomic intelligence relations, as it prohibited the exchange of

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technical information.55 Despite the implications of the act, successful attempts were made to continue a degree of collaboration, not least because intelligence exchange was recognised by both parties as vital to each country’s national interest.56 Efficient exchange, however, stalled again with the reorganisation of American atomic intelligence.57 In January 1948 a new modus vivendi—an arrangement as opposed to a formal treaty—eased the problem by providing various lines of technical communication (see Chapter 2). Although this agreement was formally connected to the detection of foreign nuclear tests, in practice it enabled a somewhat broader dialogue between British and American atomic intelligence. Quite fortuitously, the fate of the atomic intelligence relationship was in fact about to change. By 1948 a British atomic intelligence liaison officer was attached to the CIA headquarters in downtown Washington. This officer (probably David Gattiker) had grown increasingly pessimistic about the value of his post and had been recalled.58 The vacant position was offered to Dr Wilfrid Mann, who, nearing the end of his contract at the Chalk River plant in Canada, ‘almost unwitting[ly]’ became an enrolee of the British Secret Intelligence Service as the representative of Eric Welsh in Washington.’59 Mann was an exceptional choice for several reasons: He was an excellent physicist who had been involved with British atomic matters from the outset, and he had also worked with Welsh during the war.60 There can be little doubt that the appointment was a deliberate ploy to enhance relations, for Mann’s wife was the first cousin of the wife of Walter Colby, the AEC director of intelligence. To Mann this logic was clear: He felt SIS ‘thought that this might help to salvage a sinking ship.’61 Before leaving for America, he had been given a ‘course of initiation’ that lasted some two months. During this time Mann was given ‘top-secret-plus’ clearance and was able to read deciphered intercepts.62 Although the same level of success was not achieved in the postwar period as had been during wartime in terms of signals intelligence, prior to 1948 ‘sigint’ produced significant material on the Soviet Union.63 This British material was considered by Mann to be ‘extraordinarily valuable’ information on the Soviet atomic programme and was used to barter with the Americans.64 In his memoirs Mann recalls how ‘the Colonel in charge of the nuclearenergy group was entirely sympathetic to cooperation but had to make the decision to discontinue it in order to protect his own organisation.’ This move reflected other anxieties about the McMahon Act.65 The colonel in question would have been either Colonel L. Seeman or his successor, Colonel Benson, the heads of the Nuclear Energy Group within the CIA. Many Americans were perplexed at the strict nature of the limitations imposed on them by the McMahon

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Act, particularly as several were keen to collaborate in analysis with the British, many of whom had been wartime colleagues. As Mann has recalled, ‘Paradoxically [the CIA] were as irked as we were by the restrictions that the McMahon Act placed on the exchange of nuclear information,’ significant given the ‘possible consequence [of] losing access to British raw intelligence.’66 Similarly, the AEC was, according to figures in the British embassy in Washington, also ‘very anxious’ that collaboration should continue.67 As a consequence both sides attempted to work around the legal restrictions. Mann was given an office in the chancery of the British embassy building, where he shared a corridor with the MI5 (Britain’s Security Service) and SIS representatives and the embassy security officer. He was assisted in his position by Sir Roger Makins, who was somewhat fictitiously described as an economic minister but had the responsibility of achieving ‘collaboration in the atomic field.’68 Under the circumstances, relations with the Americans were good, for while there were limitations on what information could be exchanged, the Americans remained ‘voraciously eager to receive British raw and processed intelligence reports, and to make theirs available when they did not involve AEC restricted technical information.’69 Despite such official limitations on what information could be given to the British, certain unofficial lines of access remained. Considerable ingenuity was shown by the British, for as Arnold Kramish, a former senior AEC staff member with responsibility for intelligence liaison with the British, has testified, Welsh would often bring a selection of Swiss watches, which he would offer to the Americans in exchange for snippets of information. Indeed Welsh, who visited the United States with some regularity, was fond of a few drinks and at such gatherings in Washington was ‘very good at getting stuff out of scientists.’70 Although Kramish rejected such offerings, some of his colleagues were less inhibited. Colby’s deputy within the AEC intelligence unit was Malcolm Henderson, who, according to Kramish, ‘had a big mouth and was most indiscreet.’ Henderson was eventually sacked for taking home top secret papers, but before his impromptu removal he became ‘one of Eric’s best “American Spies.” ’71 By 1949 intelligence figures in Whitehall were discussing the ‘special relationship’ that existed between Welsh’s unit and its American counterpart, and certainly this description was wholly warranted.72 Atomic Intelligence Collection

In both Britain and America, different groups competed internally, all vying for exclusive control of atomic intelligence. In Britain in particular critics concentrated on the unit’s organisation, especially as the initial rationale to keep

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atomic intelligence separate from the other aspects of intelligence was considered to be only a temporary option.73 Discussions in late 1945 indicated that the postwar structure was indeed inefficient, with complaints made about the interchange of intelligence within Whitehall.74 Yet the system was maintained; indeed, a further full-scale evaluation of the organisation in 1954 concluded that the existing system should be preserved (see Chapter 5). Another major criticism was the continuation of Eric Welsh as chief of the atomic intelligence unit.75 Because of his experience, his contacts, and the fact that the structure was not about to change, it was perhaps natural that Welsh should retain his command of postwar atomic intelligence. Those who worked with Welsh commended his personal qualities as head of the directorate,76 while those who opposed his control saw his leadership as calamitous, relating the fate of atomic intelligence to his inabilities as commander.77 One of Welsh’s major critics was R.V. Jones, the wartime head of scientific intelligence. At the end of the war Jones had tried—unsuccessfully—to absorb atomic intelligence into scientific intelligence and thus into his jurisdiction. Indeed, there are famous examples of Jones and Welsh having to be kept apart at Chiefs of Staff (COS) meetings.78 Jones’ critique appears to have been a result of such animosity, for he was in fact complimentary of Welsh’s wartime work.79 However, neither Welsh nor any other individual was to cause the ultimate failure of atomic intelligence to predict the first Soviet bomb; rather, the failure was the result of the strategies adopted by agencies responsible for the collection of intelligence on the Soviet atomic bomb programme. From 1945 the top priority for British atomic intelligence was to identify ‘the minimum time in which the Russians could be expected to produce an atomic bomb and to estimate their potential rate of production of these weapons in the immediate period thereafter.’80 Active collection of intelligence relating to the Soviet atomic programme was needed, including material on delivery systems. Information could come in numerous forms, but the main method was an ‘indirect means of gathering atomic intelligence.’81 Two of the most important methods of intelligence collection throughout the war had been secret agents and signals intelligence—yet both were notably absent in respect to information on the Soviet project. In 1948 GCHQ had made intelligence on the Soviet atomic programme its ‘absolute top priority target,’ yet despite this emphasis, information remained scarce. Although there was some success with Soviet communications, the Soviets sent little information on their atomic programme by radio. Instead, the majority was transmitted through secure land lines, and these communications were much more difficult to intercept.82

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Western efforts to send agents into the Soviet Union in the first decade of the cold war were ineffective, though there was some success in recruiting Germans, as is discussed below. Despite these successes, problems with clandestine collection drove British and American intelligence increasingly towards oblique and peripheral techniques. British scientific intelligence officials later claimed that ‘we should have got far better information from a messenger or labourer in the right place than from any number of Professors of Physics swanning round Europe, or even in Moscow.’83 However, getting such an agent into place proved impossible, and ultimately, therefore, intelligence had to be collected in every possible ‘indirect’ means available. Accordingly, the D.At.En.(In) fell back on the poor expedient of using open sources in a closed country.84 One of the simplest methods for assessing Soviet development was to consider the value of information that Moscow would have obtained through overt means, beginning in 1945 with the publication of A General Account of the Development of Methods of Using Atomic Energy for Military Purposes Under the Auspices of the United States Government, 1940–1945, more commonly referred to as the Smyth Report. The report was designed to answer any questions the public had with regard to the bombs dropped on Japan, while also holding the line on the release of information. President Truman approved publication of this document on 9 August 1945.85 Many American politicians and scientists had not thought publication of the Smyth Report a sensible move: For instance, AEC chairman David Lilienthal later commented that it was ‘the worst breach of atomic security.’86 Before publication, the Americans had asked for a British view; Sir James Chadwick’s first reaction was of ‘disquiet and almost alarm,’ for he felt it ‘divulges information which will be useful to foreign governments interested in T.A. development.’ Chadwick did, however, eventually endorse publication.87 By contrast Arnold Kramish’s important 1959 book, Atomic Energy in the Soviet Union, the first book on the subject, compiled from open sources, was considered by the Soviets impossible to release in Russian, as it contained classified information.88 The real problem of the Smyth Report lay in the particular disclosures it made: It detailed which methods had been successful and which had not. For example, it provided information on the optimum reactor type, with the result that the Soviet reactor replicated the facilities used by the Americans at Hanford.89 The very first copies of the report were circulated as lithoprints, but they were quickly withdrawn by the US government, and the report was reissued with some sensitive sections removed. However, before the sensitive material had been retracted, Soviet intelligence had obtained a copy of the report.

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In fact, one of the redacted sections had discussed solutions to a problem involving xenon; these solutions were thus known to the Soviets.90 Assessing the worth of the report to any foreign atomic project was therefore considered of the highest importance, and it was subsequently concluded that any nation now starting an atomic project had two distinct advantages over the AngloAmerican project: the information provided by the Smyth Report, and the knowledge that a bomb was actually feasible.91 Soviet espionage in the West was an additional factor in Western intelligence calculations, and the defection in September 1945 of Soviet cipher clerk Igor Gouzenko provided clear, tangible evidence as to the importance of this interest. Implicated was English physicist Alan Nunn May, who had worked on tube alloys since 1942.92 At his trial, Nunn May had proclaimed that his espionage had not conveyed the ‘real secret of the bomb’ but had ‘only saved a bit of time for a few foreign nuclear physicists.’93 The JIC desired concrete assessments of the benefits of his espionage to the Soviet programme. Subsequent estimates, undertaken by the D.At.En.(In), were based on the premise that the information Nunn May passed over was correct, and further that he may have passed all his knowledge. In this way both ‘possible’ and ‘probable’ projections were generated, a method subsequently employed for all British atomic intelligence estimates. The JIC could therefore conclude that ‘pre-supposing the Russians . . . might be expected to achieve success in five years . . . it is believed that [Dr Nunn May’s] knowledge might shorten the time taken to reach the goal by a period of perhaps twelve months.’94 It was further concluded that despite Nunn May’s information, Moscow had been surprised by Hiroshima,95 and that although the Soviet intelligence service had been well briefed scientifically, the project must have been in a basic state considering the information required.96 A recent Russian account based on ‘official’ access to Soviet military intelligence (Glavnoye Razvedyvatelnoye Upravlenie, GRU) archives has confirmed the importance of Nunn May’s information, detailing how he provided his Soviet masters with details about the properties of uranium and of associated reactor design.97 Despite such estimates, the real importance of the Nunn May case lay in terms of the implications of the Soviet penetration, rather than the information that Nunn May had provided. David Evans, director of the Scientific and Technical Intelligence Branch (the primary intelligence collection organisation in Germany), concluded from the case that it was ‘extremely evident that the [Soviet] scientific and technical briefing was of the highest order. . . . It is very clear that the Russians have fully realised the supreme importance of

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documentary intelligence in this field.’98 MI5 dispatched its leading Soviet counterespionage officer, Roger Hollis (head of C Directorate within the Security Service; he would later become Director-General), to America to interrogate Gouzenko. Hollis’ correspondence with the United Kingdom, in particular with his counterespionage opposite number in SIS Kim Philby, was declassified only in 2004. These details show, in Hollis’ opinion, that the Soviets had instructed all their agents to obtain information on atomic energy wherever possible.99 The Americans, who were informed of the case, also concluded likewise, commenting that ‘the Soviets have made the obtaining of complete information regarding the atomic bomb the Number One project of Soviet espionage.’100 Perhaps as a consequence of such statements, the JIC postulated that if it were assumed that the Soviet Union had other spies and was obtaining a continuous flow of information, this might affect intelligence predictions for Soviet progress. Michael Perrin’s surprising response was ‘that it was unlikely that any information that was disclosed to the Russians would materially alter the estimates.’101 Perrin, as we now know, was very much mistaken in his assumption (see Chapter 3), for as Peter Kelly—a former member of Welsh’s unit—has written, ‘The secrecy that surrounded the West’s research into nuclear weapons proved, in the end, no obstacle as far as the Russians were concerned.’102 Arguably the scale of the industrial enterprise required to produce the first bomb offered a vast pool of potential agents in the West. International scientific links were another useful though ultimately limited method of gathering intelligence, often channelled through the British embassy in Moscow. Professor Eric Ashby, of the Australian legation, got to know many Soviet physicists well and enjoyed ‘wide and surprisingly intimate contact.’ The Soviet Union was, he reported, concentrating its efforts on producing the atom bomb; providing the best facilities and incentives possible. He also informed the British of the Soviet use of German scientists, though details in this respect were vague.103 Also involved in this open-source intelligence effort was Brenda Tripp, a representative of the British Council and responsible within the British embassy for looking after scientific contacts. Through conversations with Soviet physicists, Tripp similarly concluded that Soviet research was proceeding rapidly but that the bomb was still ‘a long way off realisation.’ Tripp provided some of the extremely meagre evidence on Igor Kurchatov, the actual head of the Soviet project—a fact that was not comprehended by British intelligence until after the 1949 detonation—commenting merely that he had been described as ‘outstanding in the field of atomic physics.’104

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The British embassy in Moscow endeavoured to inform Whitehall of any mention of the Soviet atomic programme in public broadcasts. Such information again underlined that the Soviet Union was working on the bomb but that progress was limited.105 This open-source political intelligence, though useful, was very difficult to interpret, often depending on the estimated reliability of the source. Collectively these methods allowed Welsh’s unit to conclude that the Soviet Union had vastly increased its efforts to develop an atomic bomb following the attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Similarly, it was possible to identify which methods the Soviets might use by considering some of the disclosures from the Smyth Report and the Nunn May case. Such information could provide only indications of which paths the Soviets might take and, by comparing these estimates to Anglo-American experiences, how long it might take for certain stages to be reached. What such information could not provide was any tangible evidence that could be used to estimate when the first Soviet atomic bomb might be ready. By far the most useful information came from German PoWs, scientists and technicians who had been taken to work in the Soviet Union in 1945. Their considerable value reflected the great difficulties in placing agents within the Soviet Union. Unlike the Anglo-American efforts, the Soviet project was assisted by an enormous number of prisoners, alone numbering approximately seven hundred thousand by 1950.106 Their role was vitally important, for as David Holloway has commented, ‘half of all research for nuclear weapons development was done in prison institutes, while most of the construction and mining was done by prison labour.’107 An American programme, Project Wringer, employed trained personnel to interrogate thousands of repatriated prisoners. The British also operated similar programmes in Germany.108 Indeed, ‘many of these prisoners . . . escape[d] from the USSR after their release, providing Western intelligence with useful insights into the Soviet nuclear programme.’109 The most important sources were those Germans who had remained in East Germany working for the Soviet government and who had been removed following VE day to the East. One estimate indicates that there were three thousand German scientists in the Soviet Union, of which 11 percent were in the nuclear field.110 Within Germany there were many different bodies for the collection of intelligence, the largest being the Intelligence Division of the British Control Commission for Germany. This group included the Scientific and Technical Intelligence Branch (Germany) or STIB, established in October 1946.111 STIB was concerned with ‘the procurement of scientific and technical intelligence of a war potential nature about Russia,’ therefore encompassing the

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Soviet exploitation of Germans.112 Germany presented the British with a remarkable platform for gathering intelligence on the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe. The raw information from Germany was one of the few categories of data to which the British restricted American access. Reports were sent to London in raw form—it was a criterion of STIB’s existence that information was not collated—at which point they were assessed for distribution. The United States’ intelligence operations in Germany worked in the same way.113 This setup ensured that information was not sent to the wrong US intelligence department and also preserved the Anglo-American atomic intelligence relationship.114 When STIB received a German prisoner, it would inform the SIS, which would, if relevant, inform its atomic arm, TAL.115 Welsh’s unit was particularly concerned about STIB and other British intelligence agencies in Germany passing uncollated reports to their opposite numbers in US intelligence because of the detailed technical information that some reports included. This concern reflected a desire within Whitehall that the circulation of all atomic documentation be kept to an absolute minimum. It was also symptomatic of the problems within the British intelligence community regarding atomic information— material was considered so secret that those outside Welsh’s small unit were not provided with details on how important such information was.116 The United States undertook a similar operation in Germany, and to avoid overlaps (though inevitably there were some), certain tasks were left to either British or American intelligence. For instance, one area that was left primarily to the British was the utilisation of returning German PoWs to gather information on Soviet involvement in uranium mining and production.117 Curiously, however, despite the number of Germans that were known to be working in the Soviet Union, atomic energy was accorded only a ‘Priority 2’ status for STIB.118 How useful was the information provided through intelligence activities in Germany? Information was coordinated through various different operations, including: (a) Operation DRAGON: Exploitation of German scientists and technicians who have been evacuated to Russia in order to assist war potential research and development in the USSR, and the exploiting of them in their permanent return, or that of their relatives to Germany. (b) Operation KIDNEY: Exploitation of certain German scientists, technical, commercial and professional networks which, through direct or indirect contacts with Russia, may provide leads to scientific and technical intelligence on Russia.

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(c) Operation MATCHBOX: The removal from Russian employment or control of war potential of German scientists and technicians, including the provision of facilities in the Western Zones to induce them to transfer to, and remain permanently in the West.119 In the most detailed examination of these activities, Paul Maddrell has concluded that ‘refugees from the East were an essential source of intelligence.’120 In the period after the detonation of Joe-1, this statement is certainly correct, but for the period between World War II and the Soviets’ first nuclear weapons test, matters are not quite so straightforward. The majority of information that was received had to be assessed both for the reliability of the informant and for confirmation from other sources of the informant’s disclosures. Nevertheless, British intelligence secured a remarkably accurate picture of the way in which Germans were used in the Soviet programme, gathering evidence, for example, from defecting Germans,121 from postal censorship in Germany,122 and through contact between Germans inside and outside of Russia.123 One of the more productive sources of information was the interception of letters that the leading German scientists wrote to their families.124 Hence it could be concluded that ‘it is the Russians’ intentions to pick German brains on this subject . . . but not to admit any Germans to this project, which, in a country which is security minded at all times, will be kept super secret.’125 The leading Germans involved were correctly identified and, as is discussed in the next chapter, conclusions correctly drawn. In addition to the activities of the intelligence organisations in Germany, SIS and US intelligence did achieve some limited successes at this time in East Germany. In late 1946 a worker at the Bitterfeld (East Germany), I.G. Farben plant ‘volunteered’ information that the plant had recently begun construction of metallic calcium. Despite the worker providing this information to the Americans only, the NEG in Washington was quick to inform Welsh of the news. Consequently, a number of engineers at the plant were interviewed by Western intelligence agencies, and it was concluded that the plant was indeed producing calcium in a form that was used for the development of uranium metal. Many of these engineers subsequently resettled in the British occupation zone in Germany and were questioned. These interviews were complemented by the interrogation of the former secretary of the scientist Dr Nikolaus Riehl, who had defected to the British. It was discovered that material from the I.G. Farben plant was being transported to Riehl’s laboratory at Elektrostahl, just outside Moscow, and a joint British-American intelligence effort concluded that Elektrostahl was the site

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of a uranium metal plant. This information was used as the basis for intelligence forecasts of the first Soviet bomb, for it was believed that uranium metal was a necessary component of an atomic bomb. In addition, British sources at the plant provided monthly statistics detailing production levels. The plant itself had been photographed during the war; therefore, Western intelligence could appreciate ‘just how enormous’ the Soviet operation was. In sum, such information ensured that ‘as far as the technical side of the Bitterfeld calcium operation was concerned, by 1948 the British [and the United States] knew as much about it as the Russians did.’ Eric Welsh, however, saw an opportunity to sabotage the Soviet programme, perhaps harking back to his wartime experience in Norway and the attacks on the heavy-water plant. By 1948 TAL had a well-placed source within the Bitterfeld plant. ‘C’ gave Welsh’s plan—code-named Operation Spanner—his blessing. Welsh had been concerned about the details of the plan leaking as a result of what he called ‘American clumsiness.’ In fact there were hitherto undisclosed Soviet agents within British intelligence both in London and in Germany. Welsh’s plan was protected from these individuals by his direct line of communication with Menzies himself. Welsh aimed to use his agent to introduce some boric acid to the calcium production process, thereby, in his words, ‘buggering the works.’ However, before the plan could be put into action, production at the plant stopped. Although at the time this event produced some consternation at the possibility that Welsh’s plan had leaked, it is now known that this cessation of work was due to the testing of the first Soviet atomic bomb, and so Welsh’s sabotage plan was never launched.126 There were also other, albeit relatively unproductive, sources of information on Soviet progress. Aerial reconnaissance had proven invaluable during the war and was subsequently considered an essential component of postwar intelligence collection. Deteriorating relations with Moscow resulted in the creation of two strategic reconnaissance squadrons at the end of 1947. Photographic reconnaissance of the Soviet Union taken by the Germans during the war and captured after VE day was also utilised.127 The significance of aerial reconnaissance to find atomic sites was twofold: firstly, the information gathered was used to assess the progress of the Soviet atomic programme; secondly, if and when war came, these targets would be the first to be attacked.128 Lists of potential targets were drawn up by the Joint Air Photographic Intelligence Board (UK) in liaison with the Foreign Office and SIS (and therefore presumably Welsh).129 Such flights covered an area that comprised approximately the southwestern areas of the Soviet Union; to complement these flights, the Strategic Air Command (SAC) wing of the USAF flew reconnaissance

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missions over the north.130 In order to help pilots recognise Soviet atomic plants, a request was made for photographs of similar British and American plants, though it is unclear whether these sample photographs were obtained.131 Results of the reconnaissance flights were disappointing: In 1950 it was concluded that ‘the greater part of intelligence would have to be provided by photographic reconnaissance during the next war. At present there was virtually no photographic intelligence of the enemy.’132 The British and US experience with aerial reconnaissance was indicative of problems encountered in other methods of intelligence collection: Many people—even frontline intelligence officers—simply did not know what to look for or even where to start. For example, there was a widespread popular belief that there was an ‘atomic secret,’ some sort of written formula that was essential to the bomb’s construction, and to many, even Truman, ‘this secret was God’s sacred trust to the American people.’133 The D.At.En.(In) attempted to address its agents’ lack of knowledge by issuing various ‘questionnaires’ to the collection agencies that included lists describing the sort of intelligence required, yet the questionnaires were vague and lacking in detail.134 Similarly, for personnel to know exactly what came under the jurisdiction of atomic intelligence, it was essential to know at least something of the technical processes involved; yet this information remained a matter of the highest secrecy, not only within the British government, but also—as a result of the McMahon Act—between the British and the Americans. Indeed even into the 1950s there was a general ignorance of what a nuclear weapon was. In seeking permission to fly over Aldermaston, the headquarters of the United Kingdom’s Atomic Weapons Research Establishment, in 1955, the Duke of Edinburgh showed concern about getting a ‘hot seat’!135 Despite the various covert operations that were under way at this time, the collection of atomic intelligence can be summed up as consisting of mainly overt methods. Although this work was very important, the real significance of it should have been to provide a basis from which to plan a subsequent aggressive covert intelligence programme and assess the data when obtained. This is an important distinction: With much of the overall intelligence collected coming from German sources, it was vitally important to assess the reliability and worth of such information, yet the intelligence agencies could not do so. In 1946, the JIC considered ‘Overt Intelligence on Atomic Energy’ and gave a list of conditions from which ‘it becomes possible to define provisionally the capabilities of the various nations, and to propound a series of preliminary questions, the answers to which would give a clue to whether any real activity is being carried out or being contemplated.’ This statement underlines not only the

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limited knowledge to be gained from overt intelligence but also the importance of overt operations as a stepping-stone to well-targeted covert intelligence.136 In the face of insufficient intelligence, the British government based its assumptions on the premise of what the expected course of Soviet progression should be. This methodology was similar to that adopted by US intelligence, for as AEC chairman David Lilienthal noted, estimates were ‘five percent information and ninety-five percent construction,’ adding that ‘in my opinion our sources of information about Soviet progress are so poor as to be actually merely arbitrary assumptions.’ In other words, in the absence of real information about the Soviet programme, the West fell into the trap of mirror imaging, or constructing an estimate from knowledge derived from its own programmes.137 Mirror imaging is now a well-known epistemological trap that awaits the unwary intelligence analyst. Atomic Intelligence Analysis

Without having direct access to the Soviet programme, Welsh’s unit had to analyse broad intelligence on Soviet science, scientists, and industry. Although it was known that many Germans were involved in the Soviet bomb programme, they served only to complement the existing Soviet scientific infrastructure—an important distinction in the production of intelligence estimates. It was known that the leading Soviet scientists were being treated lavishly by the atomic programme, and that this was attracting younger scientists to leave Moscow. This was considered remarkable by the British embassy in Moscow, in that ‘throughout the Soviet Union all Soviet citizens would do everything in their power to come and live in what is regarded as the Mecca of Moscow.’138 It was concluded that the top Soviet scientists were as good as any in the United Kingdom or the United States, but that the general level of research workers was low.139 Estimates were based on Western lead times for producing atomic weapons, with additional ‘handicaps’ being added to take into account special Soviet problems.140 General Leslie Groves, head of the Manhattan Project, for example, believed that Soviet science could only be as productive as industry would allow it to be.141 American economic experts concluded that the Soviet Union’s short- and long-term industrial programmes were straining Soviet industry and that unless existing programmes were scrapped, Soviet resources could not stretch to accommodate an extensive atomic project. At the same time, however, the report stated that it would be ‘dangerous’ to assume that this could not be achieved.142 Although Soviet industrial inferiority could not be accurately predicted, the United States estimated that the Soviets would need

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an additional two years of progress to overcome it, and such views were embraced by the British.143 In effect, therefore, intelligence on these aspects provided an awareness of some of the factors that might have hindered atomic development but still did not provide direct information as to the progression of the project itself. To grasp any real conceptions of the Soviet programme—known to Moscow as Operation Borodino—it was first necessary to comprehend how it was organised. Evidence pointed to the existence of a coordinating body, which was known to be headed by Lavrenti Beria, the feared head of the Soviet secret police. The appointment of Beria, ‘undoubtedly one of the most powerful and influential members of Stalin’s entourage,’ indicated ‘the importance the Russians attach to their nuclear energy programme that a man of this eminence has been given overall charge.’144 Erroneously, it was believed that Peter Kapitza, a world-renowned physicist who had worked in England before the war, was Beria’s second in command and the head of the research project, his position being known as ‘Vice-President of the Special Commission on Atomic Energy.’145 This observation seems to have stemmed from an assumption that as the Soviet Union’s leading physicist, Kapitza was bound to be in charge, as much as from any direct evidence, even though it was known that Kapitza was ‘not strictly a nuclear physicist.’146 From mid-1946, information began to indicate that Kapitza had in fact lost his position as head of the project, and from this point until the 1949 detonation, it was not known who had replaced him, although different names were continually propositioned.147 The person who had in fact been in charge of research since 1943 was Igor Kurchatov. There is hardly any mention of Kurchatov in the intelligence reports, though a list of ‘Leading Soviet Scientists of Interest in Atomic Energy Developments’ correctly identified him as the director of Laboratory No. 2 of the Academy of Sciences.148 In fact, Operation Borodino roughly translates as ‘Operation Beard’—the Russian nickname given to Kurchatov. Western intelligence analysts clearly recognised the limitations of German sources. They correctly determined that Germans were used in the atomic project only in peripheral fields, a conclusion supported by the fact that the Soviet Union had made no consummate efforts to secure the services of the top German atomic scientists—the members of the so-called Uranium Club.149 Of the Germans in the Soviet Union, three groups were particularly notable. First, Professors Gustav Hertz and Manfred von Ardenne, together with their groups and machinery, were transported from Germany to sites at Sukhumi on the Black Sea, where they continued their wartime work on cyclotrons.150 Second, as mentioned earlier, Dr Nikolaus Riehl, another German transported to the

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Soviet Union, took up residence on the outskirts of Moscow at Elektrostahl, working on uranium production.151 Finally, Moscow also utilised various plants still in Germany, including Leunawerke, which was involved in heavy-water research and part of which had been transferred to the Soviet Union,152 and the I.G. Farben plant at Bitterfeld, producing calcium believed to be used for ‘nuclear energy purposes’ (see above).153 The issue of bomb-making techniques offers an excellent illustration of how, in the absence of good intelligence, assumptions led to erroneous estimates. It was assumed that no new techniques in developing the bomb would be discovered, so that the Soviet bomb would have to be either a uranium-235 gundevice bomb, similar to the one dropped on Hiroshima, or a plutonium implosion device, the type dropped on Nagasaki. It was presumed fairly early on that the Soviet bomb would be an implosion type and that only two known means of plutonium production existed: by a pile moderated either by heavy water or by graphite.154 It was known that German heavy-water installations had been captured by the Soviets in 1945 and removed through Operation Evacuation East to sites including Tulonskee and near Leningrad. Although evidence of the Soviets’ renewed interest in heavy water was ascertained in 1948, intelligence on the uranium activities at Elektrostahl indicated active graphite-pile research, implying that in fact both methods were likely being worked on.155 A 1949 report stated that pile construction could not have begun before June 1947, as this was the estimated date of the first successful operation of the experimental pile. Therefore, pile construction could not be completed until ‘the moderator problem’ was solved, which, it was estimated, would not be until after mid1949.156 Moreover, uranium was central to the atomic bomb, regardless of design, and without a sufficient quantity of a sufficiently high grade, an atomic bomb could not be made; indeed, it has been stated by one observer that ‘nuclear power is uranium power.’157 Without satisfactory intelligence on other aspects of Soviet atomic research, information on Soviet uranium supplies became central to estimating the progress of the Soviet programme, for, as numerous JIC reports specified, ‘the most reliable estimate that can be made of Russian progress in the production of atomic weapons indicates that the limiting factor is the availability of uranium ore.’158 It was felt, therefore, that ‘the estimated number of bombs which the Russians could produce was related to the amounts of uranium ore likely to be available to them.’159 When Groves became head of the Manhattan Engineering District in 1942, he believed his task was to both build the bomb and ensure that other nations

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did not. Accordingly he had initiated the Murray Hill Area, a project designed to locate and assess the world’s known supply of uranium.160 However, without sufficient means to assess ore supplies in the Soviet Union and Germany, the project had had to rely on bibliographical data. A corollary project was the Combined Development Trust, which aimed to secure the world’s known uranium supplies.161 Through the Trust the Murray Hill project continued in the postwar period under the aegis of the Anglo-American Combined Policy Committee (for more, see Chapter 3).162 By December 1945 it had been concluded that while the British and Swedes controlled the higher-grade ore, the Soviet Union, together with Argentina, controlled 65 percent of the low-grade ore. Much has been made of Groves’ estimates that the Soviet project was dependent on uranium and that the US monopoly would last twenty years. Clearly many within the Truman administration embraced this estimate. In addition, though Groves was quick to disregard the Soviet Union’s chances of discovering new sources of uranium, British and American atomic intelligence estimates were less hasty: ‘In a country the size of Russia with many areas highly mineralised it is reasonable to suppose that raw and rich deposits may be found.’163 The British attitude may have stemmed from the fact that known large-scale mining expeditions had been conducted in various regions of the USSR.164 This belief was sustained at least until early 1948,165 when it was subsequently determined that ‘the Russians have no rich deposit within their own country.’166 Estimates of Soviet uranium supplies were based, in part, on information of known Soviet uranium mining, controlled by Combine No. 6 at Leninabad.167 It was known that high-grade ore was being mined at the Jachymov (Joachimstal) mine in Czechoslovakia, from whence ore was sent to Elektrostahl.168 Lower-quality ore was also being mined in Erzgebirge in Saxony,169 in Bulgaria, especially at Buhovo,170 and in the Urals. One of the major regions mined was Central Asia, in the Uzbek and Khazak regions, where it was known that extensive surveying had taken place and where ore was supposedly of a high quality.171 Essential to producing estimates was a consideration of how the mined ore was processed. Much of the processing was done at the plant at Bitterfeld in Germany, where the calcium—used for the preparation of metallic uranium—was of a high quality, which was assumed to explain why the Soviet Union did not produce its own.172 The shipment of ore to Elektrostahl was important, as it supported evidence of Riehl’s work on the production of uranium metal.173 Also important to bomb production was thorium, and though this element was less important than uranium, it was known that deposits existed and were in fact considerable, though it was felt that these sources had not been worked on.174

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How did all this information translate into estimates? From 1945 it was assumed that Soviet stocks of high-grade uranium were low and that the progress of their programme would depend on the discovery of better ore, a view supported by the reported intensity of their geological search parties.175 In 1946 it was stressed that in terms of uranium supplies the Soviet Union ‘was an even worse third’ after the United States and Britain, though it was emphasised that the impact of this deficit on the Soviets’ progress was uncertain.176 By 1947 it had been concluded that uranium supplies were the limiting factor in progress, a view reiterated in 1948.177 British and American intelligence was quite unaware that the Soviets had found a variety of good uranium supplies. In obtaining physicists from Germany at the end of the war, the Soviet Union had also discovered a stash of German uranium, which, Kurchatov claimed, saved the Soviets a year of production time.178 The vast geological surveys the Soviets undertook unearthed numerous sites of usable ore, much of which came from the Urals and Eastern Europe.179 All these developments ensured that the West’s uranium-based assessments fell wide of the mark and, indeed, were misleading. The final consideration was an operational one—an atomic bomb was militarily useless without the means to deliver it. The Americans had used B-29 intercontinental bombers to drop the bombs on Japan. British intelligence had gained important bomber intelligence from a defector, who had garnered most of his information from Lieutenant Colonel Sokolov, the engineer in charge of the Soviet trials of a B-29 replica. It was believed, therefore, that blueprints had been obtained by Soviet intelligence from America in 1943, and subsequently aircraft designer Tupolev had been tasked by the Politburo to design a bomber of equivalent performance.180 Tupolev had been assisted by the crashlanding on Soviet soil of three B-29s in the last year of the war.181 The decision was thus taken to replicate the aircraft, with work being carried out at Kazan and Novosibirsk. By late 1946 the Kazan prototype began trials, and steps were taken to produce the Soviet B-29—known as the Tu-4— in large quantities for the long-range air force. The Tu-4 was first publicly displayed as the climax to Soviet Aviation Day in August 1947, implying that ‘for the first time, a potentially hostile bomber was capable of taking a bomb load to any number of mainland American cities.’ However, as with British and American aircraft similarly tasked, they would not have been able to make the return journey without refuelling.182 When Soviet work on the atom bomb first began, physicist Yuli Khariton went to the Tupolev factory to discuss the bomb hatch specifications to ensure that the bomb would fit.183 The implications of the Soviet development of the

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Tu-4 were alarming to the United States, since for the first time in history the American heartland was potentially vulnerable to attack. The development of the aircraft also provided useful information on Soviet strategic planning. It was taken by the Americans to indicate ‘a Soviet awareness of the part longdistance air bombardment has come to play in modern warfare.’184 The fact that to return to the Soviet Union the aircraft would require aerial refuelling was, in the minds of US planners, secondary to the damage that the Tu-4s could inflict, for ‘it was considered that the Soviets would be willing to expend airplanes and crews to deliver atomic bombs to selected targets.’185 This may well have been a reflection of the RAF’s policy to adopt a strategy of one-way missions when confronted with similar problems of range in the late 1940s. In a postwar lecture to senior military figures at the Royal United Services Institute in central London, R.V. Jones detailed how intelligence analysis was comparable to the human head, with different methods of intelligence collection corresponding to various organs—for example, the eyes represent photographic intelligence. Just like in the head, sensory information is directed to the brain, where it is collated—and this was the role of the atomic intelligence organisation.186 In the absence of confirmed and detailed covert intelligence reports, the British and Americans employed what can only be described as ‘educated guesses’ to assess Soviet atomic progress. These educated guesses took the form of various assumptions, usually based upon experiences in the Anglo-American atomic project. David Lilienthal condemned the Western approach to atomic estimates in notably outspoken language: The thing that rather chills one’s blood is to observe what is nothing less than lack of integrity in the way the intelligence agencies deal with the meagre stuff they have. It is chiefly a matter of reasoning from our own American experience, guessing how much longer it will take Russia using our methods and based upon our problems of achieving weapons. But when this is put into a report, the reader, e.g. Congressional Committee, is given the impression, and deliberately, that behind the estimate lies specific knowledge, knowledge so important and delicate that its nature and sources cannot be disclosed.187

Using the analogy developed by Jones, Anglo-American atomic intelligence can, in a sense, be compared to a blind person whose other sensory perceptions are increased to accommodate for a lack of vision. Nowhere was this more evident than with raw materials, for in the absence of other information this became predominant. But in the event, even this information was misleading and approximate at best. Analyses of intelligence on Soviet progress also appear to have encountered psychological barriers that consisted of general notions of the Soviet

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Union’s technical and scientific capacity. Even when information may have indicated otherwise, there appears to have been a reluctance to accept that Soviet technology was more advanced than predicted; this reluctance appears to be symbolic of views of the Soviet Union as technologically inferior. This viewpoint may have contributed in particular to the belief that the Soviet atomic project could not be further advanced than the British one—perhaps explaining the reliance on mirror-image estimates—and this inferiority conformed to a broad ethnic stereotype of Soviet backwardness.188 Despite there being a definite lack of any really hard information on Soviet progress, other important areas of information were overlooked. The most significant issue omitted, certainly evident with the benefit of hindsight, was the role of espionage. While it had been assumed that Nunn May passed all his knowledge on the atomic bomb to the Soviets, considerations expounded at this time—that there may be a larger Soviet espionage network in operation— were never seriously pursued (see Chapter 3). With the absence of good intelligence, emphasis had to be placed on what information there was, hence the overriding importance placed on uranium levels. Evidence from intelligence collation is hugely important because not all the initial records concerning intelligence collection have been released. Herein lies the problem: It is difficult to comprehend whether the collation of material was based on wholly reliable information in the first place. At the same time it is possible that some of the raw intelligence may not have been passed on because those at the first stages of the intelligence cycle did not comprehend the nature of the material they were dealing with—hence the distribution of questionnaires. Former JIC chairman Sir Percy Cradock has written that ‘in judging the performance of any intelligence organisation we need first to come to a realistic understanding of the limits of intelligence.’189 The existing evaluations of Welsh and his unit offered by historians have been excessively harsh.190 Given the rigid compartmentalisation of the Soviet nuclear programme, only a handful of people would have been able to provide the information required. Under the circumstances D.At.En.(In) performed remarkably well. Its most impressive achievement was in the realm of intelligence liaison. Despite the continual deterioration of technical relations with the United States, Welsh’s unit was able to achieve an amazing level of collaboration with Washington—evident at both the collection and collation levels. Similarly, Welsh was able to forge links with SIS, the RAF, the scientific establishments, and other intelligence organisations that proved vital to both the collection and analysis of intelligence. Indeed, it is difficult to see that an alternate organisation could have fared any better.

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Even in early 1947, General Slim, later Chief of the Imperial General Staff, had argued that ‘a greatly increased organisation’ was necessary ‘to collect, collate and interpret intelligence of every kind about Russia.’ With intelligence collection inadequate and intelligence analysis based on shaky foundations, intelligence estimates stood little chance of success.191 The surprise detonation of a Soviet atomic bomb in August 1949 would underline just how much additional effort was required.

C

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Joe-1 and Beyond The value of possession of the bomb as a weapon in the cold war is recognised as being second only to its military importance. British embassy in Washington1

The raison d’être of the atomic intelligence units was to provide an estimate for the date of the first Soviet atomic bomb, and thereafter an idea of how quickly the Soviet Union could build up a stockpile of such weapons. The British and American units faced an unenviable task. Firstly, they were struggling to gather good information from inside a secure police state, where human agent operations were hazardous. Secondly, the targets were extremely difficult to investigate with imagery or signals intelligence. Finally, national difficulties hindered attempts to analyse such information: The British were reliant upon lone scientific interpretations, as the limitations of the McMahon Act made joint analysis with the United States especially difficult. Despite these factors, British and American atomic intelligence did provide very detailed forecasts—the problem was that these predictions gave a date that would ultimately transpire to be a number of years too late. In September 1949 a US WB-29 aircraft, part of the embryonic longrange-detection network, picked up evidence of a recent injection of radioactive debris into the atmosphere. The Americans swiftly informed the British, who independently collected further material and analysed the samples. These investigations brought the shocking news that the Soviets had broken the US atomic monopoly and that they had done so two to three years before intelligence estimates had forecast they would. The decision to announce this detection—code-named Operation Vermont—was a subtle example in the art of timing announcements to suit political events. In the United States the ‘intelligence failure’ instigated a review of the atomic intelligence organisation, eventually contributing to the resignation of

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Rear Admiral Hillenkoetter, the Director of Central Intelligence. In Britain the ramifications were less severe: The numerous calls to evaluate and alter the existing system were never pursued. Primarily this was because of Britain’s increasingly close relations with the Americans, resulting in a further merging of the collaborative efforts against the Soviet atomic programme. The Use of Intelligence Estimates

In addition to giving guidance to intelligence-gathering agencies, the role of the D.At.En.(In) and its American counterparts was to collate and analyse the atomic intelligence material it received, the purpose of which was primarily to produce estimates that would be referred to the JIC and ultimately the COS. JIC papers on Soviet capabilities and intentions were very widely used, especially by the strategic planning ‘engine room’—the Joint Planning Staff—in its detailed work. In particular, the annual report ‘Russian Research and Development,’ a large document, enjoyed a wide distribution within Whitehall. For planning purposes it was essential that British and US intelligence have predictions of Soviet stockpiling of atomic bombs, as a sufficient number were presumed necessary before the Soviets would risk launching a war with the West. However, before these stockpile estimates could be made, it was vitally important to know when the first Soviet bomb should be expected. In making estimates, the JIC considered certain criteria essential in order to indicate that a programme had begun: 1. The establishment of a government commission or the equivalent to handle the overall problems connected with the project. 2. The allocation of large sums of money to the project. 3. An adequate supply of uranium and possibly thorium. 4. An adequate number of first-class nuclear physicists, nuclear chemists, and mathematicians. 5. Specially equipped laboratories housing modern nuclear physical equipment. 6. Adequate facilities for the training of graduates in the above sciences. 7. An industrial engineering potential of a very high order. 8. An adequate supply of industrial manpower capable of working and servicing delicate and complicated machinery.2 Reports indicated that every criterion had been met, and from the available information a combined Anglo-American atomic intelligence committee concluded that (1) the Soviet programme had begun on full-scale basis following VE day; (2) the Soviets had decided to produce a plutonium bomb; (3) plans

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had been made to construct graphite-moderated piles; (4) the Soviets had serious problems in the procurement of uranium supplies, and the probability of discovering new reserves was minimal; and finally (5) engineering and construction— i.e., industry—would be constraining factors.3 The first estimates, in 1945, were made at a time when a strong AngloAmerican nuclear partnership was still intact. At the time of these first estimates, it was concluded that Britain would have an independent stockpile by 1949, with a production capacity of forty bombs a year. In comparison it was believed that the USSR would start production only in January 1952 but then would also produce an additional forty bombs each year.4 This figure had been revised by 1946 to state that the Soviet Union may possibly possess bombs by 1951, and that the reserves would consist of up to twenty-five bombs.5 By 1947, the earliest date for the Soviet bomb had again changed, this time to 1952, with an estimated supply then being a maximum of twenty-three, though it was considered more likely to number only five.6 By 1948, these figures were considered to be in conflict with new intelligence.7 Additional information on Soviet uranium mining suggested that larger quantities were being obtained than previously thought, and accordingly this information suggested revising estimates for the length of time it would take the Soviets to produce their bomb downwards. Consequently, the first bomb might be produced by January 1951, closely followed by two to three more, with an annual production thereafter of between two and ten bombs.8 From this time onwards, it was reiterated that predictions of a first bomb in 1951 or 1952 were based ‘on the assumption that the Russian effort will progress as rapidly as the American and British projects have done,’ and that in fact ‘allowances for the probably slower progress of the Russian effort will almost certainly retard the first bomb by some three years,’ thereby suggesting a date of 1954.9 By January 1949, the estimated date for the first Soviet bomb had again changed: This time a prediction of July 1950 was proposed, with an annual production of four to twelve bombs per pile. However, as it was expected that the Soviet Union was short of uranium, it was felt that there was very little possibility of a second pile.10 This new estimate was accepted by the JIC, though for the first time it was stated that this was ‘the earliest possible date,’ whereas the ‘probable date’ was mid-1953. This statement implied different figures for the subsequent number of bombs produced: a maximum of fifty, but a probable number of only twenty-five, based on a 1950 test; or a maximum of thirty, but a probable number of twenty, based on a 1953 test. It was stated, however, that estimates beyond 1954 could not be made, as uranium quantities were

Predicted Date

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1955 1954 1953 1952 1951 1950 1949

I : : : ; :

1944

1945

1946

1947

1948

1949

.

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Possible Probable

1'-"-----'1=

1950

Year of Estimate

Figure 1. British Estimates of the Likely Date of the First Soviet Atomic Bomb

impossible to forecast.11 The JIC maintained that ‘the Soviet Union will not be in a position to use Atomic Bombs in 1949, and probably not for several years thereafter.’12 A graphical representation emphasises the difference in estimates (see Figure 1). The predictions had important strategic consequences: In 1946 it had initially been estimated that in order to cause the collapse of the United Kingdom without invasion, between 30 and 120 atomic bombs would be needed. This figure was interpreted by the JIC, which ‘consider[ed] it reasonable to estimate that the Soviet Union would not be ready to deliver an attack on the United Kingdom, which might be expected to cause collapse, until she possessed between 60–240 atomic bombs.’ Therefore, ‘the Soviet Union would not be capable of achieving a decisive result by atomic warfare, even against the United Kingdom alone, before 1957 at the earliest.’13 It is important to realise that these estimates were produced by Welsh’s intelligence unit; other British organisations offered their own forecasts. The JS/JTIC, like Welsh’s unit, was concerned mostly with uranium supplies but was less convinced of the importance of industrial inferiority.14 The JS/JTIC’s estimates made in early 1949 predicted the first Soviet bomb would be produced by mid-1950.15 Many American predictions were also based on uranium, though some saw Soviet industrial inferiority as a larger constraint than the British did.16 The earliest US estimates, made in 1946 by the Central Intelligence Group, made clear at the outset that ‘our real information relating to this subject is meagre.’ Despite this, the Americans felt that the Soviet Union would produce its first bomb sometime between 1950 and 1953, but that a sizeable stockpile would not be available until 1956.17

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Although there were different interpretations in the UK, the credible estimates were those provided by Welsh’s unit. In the United States, by comparison, various groups were involved in atomic intelligence. The result was that there was often a plethora of different estimates. By mid-1947—before the reorganisation of atomic intelligence—there were still numerous US governmental intelligence agencies with responsibility for providing estimates. According to James Forrestal, the Secretary of Defense, this ‘variation in estimates’ was considered ‘healthy as being indicative of independent approaches’; yet at the same time ‘[it] is also an index of the reliability and adequacy of our present knowledge of the facts.’18 By 1948, following the reorganisation, Forrestal continued to emphasise the ‘difficulty . . . in securing definite information.’19 CIA estimates made that year, like their British counterparts, relied on their own knowledge and experience to ‘project present information into the future.’ It was still felt at this stage that the first Soviet bomb could be ready by mid-1950, but it was more probable that it would not be ready until mid-1953. As a result, the Soviet Union would have a maximum of only twenty atomic bombs by 1955.20 By contrast, the AEC at this time was more confident that the first Soviet bomb would be ready by mid-1950, as opposed to the later date preferred by the CIA.21 In fact, the only organisation within US intelligence whose estimates were accurate was the air force, though it appears that it may have simply been fortunate in its assessment. Despite this possibility, in a recent study Lawrence Aronsen highlighted the lack of influence the newly formed USAF intelligence unit had on governmental policy, for although the unit was uniquely accurate in predicting the date of Joe-1, its prediction was ignored.22 The dearth of good intelligence on Soviet progress was reiterated in 1949. Rear Admiral Hillenkoetter, the DCI, personally recommended increasing numerous different modes of intelligence collection, with the result that the Soviet nuclear weapons programme was given the highest priority in the field of communications intelligence. Accordingly, 71 percent of all intercept personnel and 60 percent of processing personnel were redirected to concentrate on the Soviets’ progress.23 But this increase was to little avail, for in 1949 CIA estimates were still based on a knowledge of Soviet uranium levels. Consequently, information at this time indicated that the first Soviet bomb would not be available until mid-1951.24 These estimates were not the only ones made of Soviet atomic progress, however. In contrast to other units, which emphasised the availability of uranium, the American embassy in Moscow appeared to have seen general progress in atomic science as important.25 At the same time, many of the scientists involved in the wartime Manhattan Project—perhaps enjoying a profound

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insight—saw scientific knowledge as paramount.26 The US military employed a mixture of mirror imaging the American experience and estimating Soviet raw materials in making forecasts.27 The more open-minded in the United States considered what the American reaction would have been if the situation had been reversed.28 This latter approach suggested an accelerated effort as a result of the intense psychological pressure induced by not possessing the weapon. The frequent similarities between American and British estimates can be explained by the fact that through their liaison officers, US intelligence agencies were made aware of British estimates for the first Soviet atomic bomb, and in turn the British were certainly aware of some US estimates.29 In fact, British discussions reveal an acute awareness of the differences in estimates that existed between the CIA’s Nuclear Energy Group and the intelligence arm of the AEC. Dr Arnold Kramish, a senior intelligence officer with the AEC, has recalled how the CIA continuously distorted its estimates ‘toward what they thought the client wished to hear, rather than the actual facts.’30 Dr Wilfrid Mann, through his position as British atomic intelligence liaison officer with the Americans, informed Welsh in 1949 that both the State Department and the AEC had been critical of CIA estimates, and that both agencies held beliefs for the date of the first Soviet bomb similar to those of the British. CIA estimates were felt to be wrong by the British because they did not accurately reflect information on US pile operational capabilities.31 Despite the limitations of the McMahon Act (for example, precise details of the output of the US pile operations at Hanford could not be provided to the British, even for analysis purposes), there was good general collaboration in the production and discussion of intelligence estimates. During the war, an Anglo-American intelligence unit had been created. This group continued under its postwar guise of the Combined Intelligence Unit and included members of both British and American intelligence services. The unit, at least in 1947, was headed by a Colonel Seaman, and although its precise composition and role are unclear, it appears that its primary intention was to provide a forum to construct joint estimates of Soviet progress.32 Remarkably, while estimates of when the Soviets would produce their first atomic bomb and the quantity of their subsequent stockpile fluctuated, the estimated date for war in 1957 remained constant for British strategic planners. The date that some Americans preferred to prepare for was, instead, 1949. In fact, only the cold war crises of 1948 convinced the Americans of the need to adopt longer-term strategic planning and consider the British date of 1957.33 Though 1949 had been discarded by the British, some reports initially did consider the

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target date of 1950–51—but this date was also rejected, as it was assumed that either the Soviet Union would not have the bomb at all, or if she did, then the stockpile would be too small to warrant launching an attack.34 The JIC asserted firmly in the spring of 1949 that, ‘until the Soviet Union is on relatively level terms with the Anglo-American powers in weapons of mass destruction and the means of delivery, the Soviet leaders will consider that in war their long-term can be best served by a defensive policy.’35 The British JIC thus decided that short-term planning was no longer as important as long-term planning.36 Did intelligence estimates correlate with strategic planning? There was much debate within the JIC over what the Soviet Union might consider necessary conditions to attack—whether the Soviets would wait until victory could be ensured, or whether a situation might arise where it was considered the Soviet Union could no longer proceed without going to war. The most sensible voice belonged to a representative from Naval Intelligence, who connected the two by stating that ‘if the Russians believed that there would be no war for eight years, i.e. until the date at which it was estimated they would be prepared, why did they still maintain their huge armed forces and armament programme?’37

700

X 650

Number of Atomic Bombs

600 500 400

400 300 200



280 • 240 Ill 240 200

100

I 0 1944

1945

1946

63 53

60 40

1947

1948



86

Ill 16 1949

1950

Minimum Estimated Stockpile Maximum Estimated Stockpile Actual Stockpile 1956 Actual Stockpile 1957

Date of Prediction

Figure 2. Estimates of the Number of Bombs the Soviet Union Could Possess by 1956–1957

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While actual stockpile figures are not to be found in the records, it is possible to extrapolate from the predicted date of the first bomb, together with annual production rates, to produce a stockpile figure for 1957.38 This prediction is illustrated in Figure 2. Origins of the Anglo-American Detection Network

To corroborate intelligence on the first bomb, British and American intelligence units needed confirmation. In other words, they needed evidence to indicate when the Soviet Union had achieved nuclear competence. Detection was vitally important, for as a US State Department Policy Planning Staff paper surmised, ‘it would be of the utmost importance for us to know when the USSR has successfully tested a bomb. . . . We cannot know whether the USSR would make the knowledge public if it did possess the atomic bomb; however, we would be in a position to know the truth of what the USSR said publicly.’39 General W.M. Canterbury, the chief of the American atomic detection programme AFOAT-140 and one of the key figures in the detection system, has stated that ‘the United Kingdom neither initiated long range detection activities nor have they contributed in any significant extent to the detection or identification of the Soviet atomic explosions detected by the US.’41 Meanwhile, the historian Charles Ziegler has argued that the British system evolved out of a desire by American AEC commissioner Lewis Strauss to augment the American network, with the subsequent Interim Monitoring System becoming operational in April 1949.42 Both assertions are, however, completely erroneous. The British decision to set up a system for the detection of ‘distant nuclear explosions’ had been taken independently, certainly by February 1948, though an embryonic programme had been employed during the war.43 It is possible that some steps toward detection had been taken before this date. For example, in late February Lord Portal (Controller of Atomic Energy) informed Chief of the Air Staff Lord Tedder of work that had already been undertaken, including exploring the possibility of producing an airborne instrument for the detection of large radioactive concentrations. Portal also told Tedder that a prototype was imminent—implying that research had already begun. Portal hoped progress would be made in the future on collaborating with the Americans on airborne detection.44 Anglo-American cooperation, though strongly desired, does not seem to have been taken for granted, and accordingly the British made plans for an independent monitoring capability. Given Eric Welsh’s links to the Chief of SIS

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(‘C’ or Sir Stewart Menzies), and the fact that the detection stations were to be based on overseas territory, the decision was taken that SIS, through TAL, would be in control of the British detection system (see Chapter 4). Given its scientific nature, Harwell, the Atomic Energy Research Establishment, was conducting the research, primarily through the Telecommunications Research Establishment (TRE), which had concentrated on radar during the war and had been subsumed by the atomic establishment. One of the initial limiting factors in the progress of the US system had been the need to try out the detection equipment on an actual atomic test. Obviously the British did not have the resources to perform such a test, so from the outset they planned various operations in collaboration with the Canadians. By April 1948 and in cooperation with the Canadians, the British were conducting research into ‘aerial ionisation’ surveys, which included magnetic and radio methods. The Americans were interested in the results, as they had previously not carried out research into this aspect of detection.45 Subsequent plans were made to monitor a proposed large-scale high-explosive (HE) test in Canada.46 By May 1948 the British had also conducted research into collecting samples from the upper atmosphere and in developing microbarographs (for measuring air pressure). The discovery of uranium in 1945 in some Cornish mines had initially provided some excitement among the British atomic intelligence community. However, Ministry of Supply geologists—including Dr David Gattiker, who would soon become Welsh’s first postwar liaison with the Americans— concluded that the amounts present were insufficient for the British atomic weapons programme.47 Despite this disappointment, the mines did provide enough of a signal so that by August 1948 the British were conducting flights over Cornish uranium mines as well as over the Springfields uranium extraction plant in Lancashire, to test the new detection equipment. According to Welsh, results were considered ‘promising.’48 In May 1948, Vannevar Bush (the American scientist and government adviser) proposed to Sir John Cockcroft that monitoring could be an example ‘of the way in which the US might benefit from collaboration.’49 Previously, in April 1948, the Americans had invited the British to participate in the American Sandstone atomic weapons trials (participation was code-named Operation Fitzwilliam). By September the British, and indeed the Americans, had achieved their desire—a collaborative meeting between the American governing body AFOAT-1 and Welsh’s unit. The meeting was facilitated by the deliberations of the Anglo-AmericanCanadian Combined Policy Committee the previous December. Discussions had centred on nine possible atomic-related areas where collaboration would

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be beneficial.50 One of these was designated Area 5: ‘Detection of a distant nuclear explosion, including: meteorological and geophysical data; instruments (e.g. seismographs, micro-barographs); air-sampling techniques and analysis.’51 Although the security-conscious, strict Anglophobe Lewis Strauss interjected and banned US exchange with the British and Canadians, stressing his ‘grave doubts as to the desirability of operating the long-range-detection programme jointly with the United Kingdom and Canada,’ the meeting in September 1948 nevertheless went ahead.52 Most of the discussion centred on the various methods of detection employed for Operation Fitzwilliam, including some less obvious techniques such as detecting the light effects from an explosion on the dark face of the moon (further research on this esoteric technique was terminated). It was agreed that the most important detection technique was air filtering, with American results being compared to the British findings. The British concluded that ‘in view of the fact that these experiments were made without accurate knowledge of the time of firing, the correlation was remarkable, and conclusively proved the value of this method of detection of an air-burst nuclear explosion.’ The closing discussions focused on how each country could help the other, with the British agreeing to disclose results from the HE tests and William Penney—the head of the British atomic weapons programme and an expert on blast effects—offering to examine various properties resulting from an atomic explosion. In return the Americans offered to reveal their reports on the 1946 Crossroads tests, the proposed date for the subsequent atomic test series, and US research on seismics and sonics.53 In October, Area 5 was extended to include ‘detection of atomic plants by the measurement of the radioactive gas content of the atmosphere and by flight with detecting instruments’ (see Chapter 5).54 In November 1948 Canada agreed to assist UK efforts regarding detection by seismic and microbarograph techniques; this allowed the British the freedom to concentrate on airborne detection.55 Thereafter the British developed airborne-detection bases in Scotland, Aldergrove in Northern Ireland, and Gibraltar. By the summer of 1949 the RAF was routinely flying in an area bounded by Greenland’s longitude in the east, the European coast on the west, the latitude of Gibraltar in the south, and the Arctic Circle in the north. Flights from the British bases were code-named Bismuth, while those from Gibraltar were named Nocturnal, and were flown in Mosquito, Lincoln, and Halifax aircraft. In this way the British not only were employing an independent detection capability, but were more importantly filling the North Atlantic void to complement the American detection system.56 Provision was also initiated so that if necessary, the Canadian Air Force would be ready and able to collect samples.57

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By this stage the United States had also developed an advanced capability for the detection of any potential nuclear test by the Soviet Union. Whereas the conventional forms of atomic intelligence had been located within the civilian AEC and CIA, responsibility for the detection network rested with the US Air Force. Strauss’ appointment as an AEC commissioner in April 1947 was the first step in a process that led to the detection of the Soviet bomb. His dismay on learning that no effective detection system existed resulted in the designation in September 1947 of the USAF to be the agency responsible.58 In February of the following year, the development of the US monitoring system was allocated to Tracerlab Inc. Tracerlab’s development of various techniques led to the collaborative effort with the British in Operation Fitzwilliam.59 In April 1949 the Interim Monitoring System became operational, comprising the USAF system, a US naval research system,60 and the British system. Hence, by this time, a sophisticated multinational framework was in place that would result in the actual detection of the Soviet atomic test in September 1949.61 The Detection of Joe-1

According to Wilfrid Mann, although he occupied the exalted position of atomic intelligence liaison with the Americans, his ‘sole job’ was to notify Eric Welsh and SIS if and when the United States detected a Soviet atomic bomb test.62 On 3 September 1949 a diverted American WB-29 (weather B-29) flying between Japan and Alaska collected routine atmospheric samples at eighteen thousand feet. The samples revealed an unmistakably higher-than-normal radioactive content and became known as Alert 112—the 112th time such an occurrence had been detected. All previous alerts had proved to be the result of natural phenomena (for example, volcanoes or natural increases in radioactivity), and although it was initially suspected that Alert 112 could have a natural source as well, ultimately it proved to be the real thing.63 To investigate further, additional samples were collected on a 5 September flight over Japan. Analysis by Tracerlab at 3:30 in the morning of 7 September proved that the samples were artificial—that they had been injected into the atmosphere by a non-natural occurrence.64 ‘Upon receipt of this electrifying news,’ wrote AFOAT-1 Technical Director Doyle Northrup, ‘[we] decided upon an all-out effort to collect as many samples as feasible.’65 Further flights revealed that the radioactive cloud had split into two, one half heading towards the United States, the other heading for the United Kingdom. As a result, both Carroll Wilson (the AEC General Manager) and President Truman himself gave their approval on 10 September 1949 to inform the British of news of the detection.

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Sir Michael Perrin has recalled that ‘on 10th September I had a telephone call from the US Embassy to go for a top secret “telex” conference and to bring Commander Welsh of MI6 with me.’ Perrin immediately contacted Sir John Cockcroft and informed him, though he also warned him to not allow Klaus Fuchs, one of his leading Harwell scientists, to learn about the event (see Chapter 3).66 The Americans asked Welsh whether he could arrange a flight to collect further samples. Welsh immediately contacted ‘C’ and the RAF, and on the same day debris from the radioactive cloud was collected by British sampling aircraft. Perrin also contacted Greg Marley, a Harwell scientist involved in radiochemical analysis, to prioritise his equipment in preparation for the samples.67 The first British confirmation came from a Bismuth UK-based flight leaving on the evening of 10 September. Further flights flown over the next few days verified the initial confirmation.68 Wilfrid Mann learned about the news at 11:30 on the evening of 14 September. ‘I had one foot in the bathtub,’ he recalled, ‘when the telephone rang with a request that I go down to the War Room near the White House.’69 Despite his role, therefore, Mann was far from being the first Briton to learn about the Soviet bomb. At 3 a.m. (US time) on 15 September a further telex conference began, with Perrin and Welsh at the American embassy in London. Returning to his office in the British embassy, Mann sent a series of telegrams through the secure SIS link. With the help of the SIS liaison officer at the embassy, Kim Philby (on whom see Chapter 3), Mann spent three to four days in extended communication with London, sending top secret messages to Welsh and even more secret messages to ‘C.’70 Following these deliberations Mann sent a message to ‘C’ advising him that he should inform the prime minister of the news.71 Accordingly, on 17 September Perrin accompanied ‘C’ to Chequers (the country residence of the prime minister) to tell Attlee ‘that there was evidence that “Joe 1” had taken place.’72 On 17 September, at the same time that Prime Minister Attlee was being briefed, William Penney and Eric Welsh arrived in the United States, complete with samples collected by the RAF. They had flown across the Atlantic to take part in a conference with American intelligence analysts to investigate and deliberate the intelligence regarding Joe-1. Their evidence also conclusively pointed to an atomic explosion, and Penney’s subsequent report was so sensitive that he could not even read a proof copy.73 By 19 September the British and Americans had agreed that it had been an atomic detonation, probably caused by a plutonium bomb.74 While the Americans were immediately convinced that the bomb had been a plutonium device, the British were less sure. A cable from the British Joint

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Services Mission (BJSM) in Washington to the Cabinet Office in late October 1949 concluded that ‘while Pu [plutonium] has not yet been found it is still regarded as most likely. . . . Actual identification of Pu may be only conclusive evidence.’75 Indeed, even in late November, when Tracerlab revised its results, it could still be stated that the United States had no plutonium content on the filters. Indeed, the plutonium identified in the water samples reported by the Naval Research Laboratory (NRL) could have come from other chemical elements.76 More detailed radiochemical investigations undertaken by Harwell once more concluded that ‘no plutonium could be detected in the British and American filters analysed,’ yet by inference, ‘a small positive and constant response was taken to be plutonium.’ Despite the lack of any plutonium in the British and American samples analysed by Harwell, it was accepted that the American radiochemical analysis that had indicated plutonium was accurate.77 Indeed, Klaus Fuchs’ confessions to Perrin in early 1950 provided further confirmation (see Chapter 3), for he informed Perrin that ‘he would have expected this [Joe-1] to be due to a plutonium bomb in the light of all the information he had passed to the Russians.’78 Projections by the US Weather Bureau based on an average explosion time and date of 1500 GMT on 27 August 1949 identified the test site to be ‘over the Asiatic land mass.’79 More specifically they identified somewhere in the area at the north end of the Caspian Sea, thereby fulfilling the US Joint Chiefs criterion of knowing that ‘the explosion can be determined to be within the USSR or the Soviet sphere.’80 Ziegler and Jacobson have argued that by this point available evidence—primarily from Tracerlab—was sufficient to confidently conclude that it had more than likely been a plutonium implosion bomb with a uranium tamper, detonated on a tower.81 Other estimates showed some variation as to the originating date of the explosion (the actual date was 29 August; see Table 1). The investigation of, and discussions following, the Soviet test were codenamed Vermont. Truman was first informed about the Soviet bomb at the end table 1 Estimates of the Date of the First Soviet Atomic Bomb Tracerlab Los Alamos US Navy British

29 August at 0000 GMT Within 30 days prior to 13 September 24 August to 6 September 26 to 30 August

Source: C.A. Ziegler, ‘Waiting for Joe-1: Decisions Leading to the Detection of Russia’s First Atomic Bomb Test,’ Social Studies of Science 18 (1988), p. 219.

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of August, when the first signals were received. On 19 September Truman was told that the evidence indicated that the source was definitely a Soviet atomic bomb. At this time, and while the intelligence conference with Welsh and Penney was going on, Chancellor of the Exchequer Stafford Cripps and Foreign Minister Ernest Bevin had arrived in Washington to discuss Britain’s financial situation. They had informed Truman that the pound was to be devalued; in return, both were told of the Soviet bomb, apparently for the first time.82 By this stage it had been agreed that a simultaneous American-BritishCanadian tri-declaration would be issued announcing that the Soviet Union had detonated an atomic bomb. However, given the financial troubles in Britain, Truman decided to postpone mention of the bomb for a few days because he ‘feared that the impact of the two announcements would be too great a shock to the Western nations.’83 It was also decided to stall the public statement to ensure that Moscow could not fully identify the capabilities of the detection system.84 As a result the announcement on 23 September 1949 did not mention the date, location, or type of atomic explosion that intelligence had picked up in the Soviet Union.85 The Aftermath of Joe-1

The detonation of Joe-1 had serious implications for the British and American intelligence communities. Paramount was the question of why the explosion had occurred so much earlier than the atomic intelligence organisations had predicted. In both Britain and America, postmortems were held to examine what was perceived to be an ‘intelligence failure.’ In an article written many years later, a former member of Welsh’s atomic intelligence unit commented that ‘no-one should have been surprised that the Russians had mastered the technology of nuclear weapons so quickly.’86 This assertion is much easier to state in hindsight, of course. In a postmortem of the British intelligence failure to forecast the Soviet atomic test in 1949, members of the scientific intelligence community observed that ‘in the last year or so a number of reports dealing with Russian progress in the development of atomic weapons had been largely discounted because they were low grade. It is now assumed that many of these reports were truer than was at first thought.’ Accordingly it was felt necessary to have an evaluation by Welsh’s unit to determine the ‘reasons for the Russian success.’87 To the West, Joe-1 was, to paraphrase one unidentified civil servant in the British embassy in Washington, ‘a shock but not a surprise’; indeed, as he continued, ‘the time element is regarded as the most startling feature of the

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news.’88 To those who had been more intimately involved in intelligence deliberations, other factors were more important than just the timing of the device. One of the key areas that was felt to have contributed to the British miscalculation was Soviet stocks of uranium. It was therefore now felt that ‘a shortage of raw materials would no longer limit Soviet production.’89 This feeling was eloquently recalled by Kim Philby: ‘One morning Mann ran into Kim’s office and said “just listen to what’s happening! This telegram from London says that Moscow exploded an atom bomb!” Mann stared at Philby. Kim felt he had to play dumb. “Is that very important?” . . . “It means they’ve obtained plutonium!” Mann continued heatedly. “We never suspected they could have plutonium.” ’90 To Mann, therefore, and many others as well, the most surprising aspect was that the Soviet Union had managed to locate enough raw material to construct a nuclear device. Despite the fact that uranium had been a significant factor in the development of the Soviet atomic bomb, in fact the real time-saving factor was the role and value of the Soviets’ espionage network (see Chapter 3). Indeed, the first indigenous Soviet atomic bomb without benefit of espionage would have been 1951—a date not too dissimilar from intelligence estimates. Some figures associated the premature test with espionage. In September 1949, just as the first intimations were being received about Joe-1, the British had learnt of the suspicions against Klaus Fuchs (see Chapter 3). Cockcroft in particular, who knew about the accusations, immediately suspected that the leakage of information explained the relative speed with which Joe-1 had come about.91 The contribution of espionage to the Soviet achievement, at the same time, conformed to a broad ethnic stereotype of Soviet backwardness. While this attitude is far more apparent in the Americans, there is still evidence of it amongst the British, especially following the Soviets’ successful test in 1949. Even for those who were not privy to the accusations against Fuchs, espionage provided the only possible answer. As Sir Henry Tizard informed Attlee, ‘I find it extremely difficult to believe that in the time available the Russians have not only solved technical problems, but have been able to build and operate a plant on a sufficient scale to give them enough material for a full scale trial of a bomb. To make this at all possible they must have been able to acquire absolutely full details of the whole American process.’92 Interestingly, Fuchs himself was surprised at the pace of Soviet progress, a fact he admitted to his British interrogators.93 Eric Welsh also strongly associated the test with espionage. In a communication to Wilfrid Mann in Washington, he mentioned that the latest information indicated that the Soviet bomb ‘was stolen from Leslie Groves.’ Indeed, Welsh left no doubt as to the particular source of this information: Referring to

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Perrin’s meetings with Fuchs, he mentioned that it was ‘confessed to some of our experts.’94 Although some questions were asked of Welsh’s unit, they never resembled an in-depth, intensive evaluation of Britain’s atomic intelligence apparatus (this would not happen until 1954). Despite this, there was some immediate doubt as to the future existence of the atomic intelligence unit, with Welsh a vehement defender of its present incarnation. Much of this conflict related to the actual location of atomic intelligence as separate from the rest of the scientific intelligence machinery—a bureaucratic battle that would continue until the early 1950s. In the United States a far more comprehensive investigation was begun into the intelligence failure. Almost immediately a congressional enquiry was initiated. Dr Walter Colby (head of intelligence at the AEC) and Rear Admiral Roscoe Hillenkoetter (Director of Central Intelligence) were both called for in an investigation into ‘the intelligence situation as it pertains to Russian manufacture of atomic weapons.’ Hillenkoetter was quick to attribute the early test to the fact that the Soviet atomic programme must have begun in 1943 as opposed to 1945, when it was previously thought to have started. Like Welsh, he attached significance to the role of Soviet espionage, though unlike the British, he focused on the Alan Nunn May case. Significantly, though, Hillenkoetter did not alter the intelligence assessment regarding Soviet uranium deposits. In defence of the criticisms levelled against him, Admiral Hillenkoetter was defiant, emphasising the difficulties in providing accurate intelligence estimates because of the general dearth of good and reliable information. He was also keen to exorcise the hitherto prevailing view of the backwardness of Soviet science and scientists, commenting that ‘I think that any time that we take the view here that the Russian scientists are dumb or something, we are just deluding ourselves.’ Despite his best endeavours, the congressional committee remained critical, with Senator Millikin concluding that ‘I just get no comfort out of anything that the Admiral has said to us. We have not had an organisation adequate to know what is going on in the past and he gives me no assurance that we are going to have one in the future.’95 Perhaps of more concern than the failings of the current atomic intelligence organisation were the implications that American intelligence was unable to predict Soviet atomic proficiency. In particular American planners were worried about the strategic implications of a Soviet atomic capability: It was assiduously pointed out that ‘the USSR either has or can easily procure enough Tu-4s (B-29s) and trained crews willing and able to make one-way flights if necessary to attempt the delivery against any key US targets of any number of atomic bombs the USSR can produce.’96

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In the United States, the result of such concerns was a call for a comprehensive evaluation, in Hillenkoetter’s words, designed to ‘review the present state of atomic energy intelligence and determine the need for and nature of special measures and procedures to be followed to effect improvement.’97 An Ad Hoc Committee on Atomic Energy Intelligence was instigated by Hillenkoetter to undertake the review, comprising figures from the Departments of State and Defense, the AEC, and the CIA, all of which had had previous involvement in atomic intelligence. The committee concluded that the failings of atomic intelligence were symbolic of US intelligence as a whole. Yet it also highlighted the organisational difficulties that had hindered the collection efforts. The committee provided a list of recommendations, ensuring that in future, ‘overriding priority be assigned to the collection of atomic energy information,’ and that better links be established between the various groups responsible.98 The recommendations of the committee were still being fully investigated by the CIA as late as December 1950.99 One of the major revisions was the increased emphasis placed on the CIA as the body responsible for atomic intelligence, with the AEC acting more as technical advisers.100 Perhaps the greatest casualty was Hillenkoetter himself. In accepting final responsibility for the intelligence failure, in addition to the ‘surprise’ of the Korean War, he was replaced as DCI by Eisenhower’s former right-hand man, General Walter Bedell Smith.101 Despite the recriminations felt throughout the majority of the intelligence establishment, Joe-1 was beneficial for another key aspect of American intelligence. Just as David Holloway has claimed that the first atomic bomb ‘saved Soviet physics,’ the AFOAT-1 organisation was similarly saved.102 The Ad Hoc Committee report highlighted the successes of the detection of Joe-1 in stark contrast to the failures to predict it. Indeed, the USAF was subsequently instructed to further establish and expand its detection capability, and to base it upon further collaboration with Britain.103 Although Joe-1 provided ammunition to critics of atomic intelligence on both sides of the Atlantic, the event proved to be hugely positive for the AngloAmerican atomic intelligence ‘special relationship.’ In late 1949 British and American atomic intelligence experts gathered to discuss the Soviet test and to attempt to reach a common ground.104 This meeting was characterised by division, as the United States felt Joe-1 was the ‘first bomb off the production line,’ whereas the British felt instead ‘it was a test explosion and did not indicate the beginning of a full scale production.’105 As Wilfrid Mann has written, the British team argued that ‘one swallow does not make a summer; nor did the detonation of one nuclear device imply the existence of a nuclear force.’106 At

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a subsequent meeting in late 1949, a team of British and American atomic intelligence experts jointly published the report ‘Appreciation of Russian Production of Atomic Weapons.’107 Despite these disagreements, the atmosphere was very constructive. Partially conducted through the Combined Policy Committee, discussions went so favourably that it was reported that the Americans were keen to pass a further modus vivendi, ensuring the ‘complete exchange of intelligence in the atomic energy field.’108 Further still, and perhaps of greater importance to the British, the Americans had apparently decided to abandon the McMahon Act in favour of ‘complete collaboration in all aspects of atomic energy,’ including ‘research and development’ and ‘the military aspects of atomic energy.’109 However, as is discussed in Chapter 3, this news was contemporaneous with revelations about the extent of Klaus Fuchs’ espionage—which killed any hopes of a resumption of technical information exchange. Significantly, though, despite the Fuchs revelations, atomic intelligence relations were to remain unaffected. If the postwar aim of atomic intelligence was to accurately predict Soviet atomic development, then the only conclusion can be that it failed. While the detection of the Soviet bomb was a resounding success, as Eric Welsh stated, ‘long distance detection techniques supply History not news. Nothing is as stale as yesterday’s news. What the JIC want and what the JIC demand is preknowledge of what are the enemies’ intentions for tomorrow.’110 Why then did intelligence fail to predict the bomb, and is it possible to identify factors that led to the inadequacy of postwar British and American atomic intelligence? Wartime atomic intelligence had been a success, but postwar atomic intelligence—which rapidly zeroed in on the Soviet programme as the primary target—operated in very different circumstances. Perhaps the biggest contrast was the obvious fact that there was no war going on. In both countries the shift from wartime to peacetime collection was reflected in the restructuring of intelligence, and while the overall system evolved, in a sense atomic intelligence did not. Yet despite critiques by such notables as R.V. Jones, this lack of change was not an overriding problem. The collection of intelligence can take numerous forms, but it is important to realise that the immediate postwar intelligence collection effort took place without satellites or effective aerial reconnaissance. Although there was intermittent success with signals intelligence, especially before 1948, sigint revealed little about the atomic programme. The most important area became humint—intelligence obtained by people. Yet without high-level agents—a notably deficient area—the majority of intelligence came from German PoWs.

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The use of PoWs against a highly secure state such as the Soviet Union could only ever be limited and therefore has been termed by Michael Herman as ‘observational’ intelligence: the type of information that is ‘relatively “hard” on physical entities such as military hardware, but need[s] more inference in discerning the target’s intentions or otherwise reading its mind.’111 This is in fact a good example of the limits offered by more overt types of intelligence collection: While it can provide limited evidence of capabilities, it reveals nothing about intentions. Extreme secrecy was also an impediment. While any intelligence may be considered secret by definition, technical information on the atomic bomb was considered so sensitive that even when Sir Henry Tizard resumed his capacity as scientific adviser to the government in 1948, he was effectively excluded from matters to do with atomic development and intelligence.112 The level of secrecy ensured that the collection of intelligence was further obstructed by the inadequacy of detailed intelligence targeting. The situation was further impeded by the numerous agencies responsible for the collection of intelligence, in that without full knowledge of the processes involved in the manufacture of atomic weapons, intelligence units ran the risk of passing valuable information to the wrong body or simply overlooking it. While the responsibility for the failure of information collection resides with a variety of different agencies, intelligence collation and analysis belonged to Welsh’s unit and his opposite numbers in the CIA and AEC. In retrospect, it is simple to find faults in the collating process—all of which stem from the lack of any verifiable alternative—though it is at the same time difficult, considering the circumstances, to see how else the organisations could have progressed. The Soviet project was evaluated at every stage by comparison to the American precedent. This was obviously a speculative position to base estimates on, as both projects had begun with very different states of knowledge and conditions. Nevertheless, at the time, the core presumption was, in the words of two eminent American scientists, that ‘it would be difficult to argue that any other nation or combination of nations could have done the job faster if it had started from the same point as we did in 1939.’113 The other overriding consideration employed was the Soviet uranium stockpile, and, again, without further information, it is difficult to see how any other alternative could have been pursued. A vital component of intelligence collation is evaluating the verification of collected information, but without sufficient detailed data, intelligence agencies had to make assumptions. Consequently, as Stephen Twigge and Len Scott have correctly argued, ‘several broad and distinct themes emerge. Perhaps the most significant is how estimates and appreciations were based on deductive and inductive reasoning

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rather than accurate, timely and reliable intelligence.’114 In fact this was also the case with regard to intelligence on Soviet chemical and biological warfare development.115 In collating the received information, the intelligence units overlooked vital considerations important to producing estimates—especially longer-term ones—though these failures again are more visible in hindsight. Following the Gouzenko defection, attention had been focussed on the possible impact of intelligence on Soviet progress, though this factor was never integrated into estimates. Peter Hennessy has explained that the Soviet bomb was a ‘rude shock’ to the intelligence establishment. He cogently identifies this inability to identify or even suspect the existence of further Soviet spies as a primary factor for this shock.116 Indeed, as will be discussed in the next chapter, this was to be a major failing. While, as Michael Herman states, ‘intelligence needs to be a part of government’s brain, but with a permeable membrane separating it from the decision-taking centre,’ in the late 1940s this connection went too far, with too much responsibility remaining with high-level officials.117 Much of this problem was the result of ‘a negative form of mirror imaging’; in other words, information was disbelieved when it contradicted either British or American parallels, or when it ran counter to expected development.118 Michael Handel has captured the dynamics of this general phenomenon very well: ‘Given the urgent nature of much intelligence work . . . all analysis must inevitably be based on pre-existing concepts. . . . Perceptual errors are the result either of projections of one’s own culture, ideological beliefs, military doctrine, and expectations onto the adversary (i.e. mirror imaging) or of wishful thinking—that is, moulding facts to conform to one’s hopes.’119 Hence, while it is possible to identify areas indicating how and why atomic intelligence failed, it is also important to consider whether it ever really had a chance to succeed. The British and American atomic intelligence units in particular have historically been blamed for this intelligence failure, yet was it possible that with better intelligence, collation and assessments may have been more accurate? To evaluate this claim, we need to consider the underlying perceptions of the Soviet Union as technologically inferior and backward. This belief had important connotations for any appraisal of the Soviet programme as being more advanced than the British one, especially when it conflicted with long-term strategic planning. Consequently, as Richard Betts has concluded in his classic study, ‘the primary problem in major strategic surprises is not intelligence warning but political disbelief.’120 The perception of backwardness ran counter to authoritative intelligence assessments, whereby ‘a key element is empathy or the ability to see things

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through the targets’ eyes.’121 Little consideration was given to the accepted fact that the Soviet Union had placed top priority on attaining nuclear proficiency, aiming to overcome all obstacles. In this respect it is worth considering Soviet advancement from a Soviet perspective. While progress proceeded at a steady rate, it is difficult to determine when a completion date for the first atomic test was first realistically conceived.122 In this way it is interesting to note, as one Soviet physicist has, that ‘the test of the first A-bomb in 1949 . . . turned out to be unexpected by the [Soviet] Army Command.’123 It is also worthwhile to highlight that the first truly ‘Soviet’ atomic bomb—that is, without the overriding contribution of intelligence from the West—was 1951, a time not too dissimilar from intelligence assessments.124 It is imperative to view such conclusions in terms of the alternatives and the climate in the late 1940s, rather than evaluating now, with the inevitable impact of hindsight. While it is possible to pick holes in each stage of the process, the fact is that alternatives were slender. The isolated nature of the Soviet project meant that apart from the top individuals concerned, the vast majority of those involved knew only as much as their direct involvement allowed them to. Consequently, a high-placed agent would have been needed within the programme, sealed off as it was from a Soviet system that was itself extremely difficult to penetrate. Unfortunately for the West, no such agent existed; by contrast, the Soviet Union was flooded with them.

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Atomic Spies and Defectors [Soviet spies had] stolen the most important secrets ever known to mankind and delivered them to the Soviet Union. J. Edgar Hoover, Director of the FBI1

With the benefit of fifty years of hindsight, it is easy to pinpoint the mistakes that the counterespionage sections of British intelligence made in failing to prevent the Soviet intelligence services from penetrating the nuclear weapons programme. Britain’s Security Service, MI5, was slow to concentrate on the Soviet Union as a prime counterespionage target, and moreover the lessons from early discoveries of Soviet penetration did not seem to be applied to identify other cases. In part, it seems, this failure was because the early cases involved émigré scientists naturalised as British, who were thought to be an isolated and particular problem. MI5 remained reluctant to reinforce its more gentlemanly negative vetting procedures with the more personal and intrusive positive vetting. Indeed, it was not until the early 1950s, under pressure from the United States, that positive vetting was finally introduced. By that time it was too late—Soviet intelligence services had penetrated, to a greater or lesser degree, the technical, intelligence, and scientific aspects of the British nuclear weapons programme. By doing so they also undoubtedly gained insights into the American weapons programme. A vital requirement of intelligence is not only to know what the enemy is doing but also to know what the enemy knows about you. Following the evidence of each spy case, British and, to a lesser extent, US intelligence conducted damage assessments to learn how important the individuals involved had been to the Soviet Union. Consideration of these assessments, in general, counter the arguments put forward by Sheila Kerr and Richard Aldrich that Soviet activities were more damaging to the West than they were beneficial to the

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East. They have argued that the information conveyed to Moscow by the Soviet moles was not well used, while, by contrast, the moles inflicted huge damage on Anglo-American cooperation and upon the morale of British intelligence. Christopher Andrew has similarly argued that the Soviets, bedevilled by their strict compartmentalisation, were very poor consumers of intelligence. However, the case of Klaus Fuchs, in particular, where the scientist provided a mass of useful information on both fission and fusion bombs, suggests that this assertion is mistaken. In the area of atomic weapons, and indeed across the whole field of science and technology, the Soviets applied the fruits of espionage successfully. The problem that the British had in this respect was that a consideration of Fuchs’ information on the Soviet thermonuclear weapons programme involved science that was far in advance of the comparable British programme. A major concern of the British authorities in dealing with the aftermath of the uncovering of Soviet spies in the atomic field was the effect that the revelations of such cases had on their ongoing efforts to reverse the restrictions of the McMahon Act. One impact of this concern was the extent to which MI5 went to disguise its own liability in the security lapses that undoubtedly were its responsibility. Despite the growing evidence that the Soviet Union had achieved a successful and wide-ranging penetration of the British nuclear weapons programme, little was done to further investigate such espionage activities. Consequently, it was not until Kim Philby was identified as a Soviet spy that British intelligence realised just how extensive Soviet espionage was. By this stage, however, it was effectively too late—full nuclear collaboration with the United States, which might have been achieved in 1950, was not to be restored until 1958. Klaus Fuchs

In September 1945 Soviet cipher clerk Igor Gouzenko defected to the authorities in Canada. Implicated through Gouzenko’s contact and knowledge of Soviet intelligence penetrations was the British scientist Alan Nunn May (see Chapter 1). Although Nunn May had worked on the wartime Tube Alloys project, the Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit concluded that Nunn May’s information would not have greatly helped the Soviet programme.2 More important, however, were the wider implications of the case. Joint Intelligence Committee Chairman William Hayter asked, ‘If it were to be assumed that the Russians were obtaining a continual flow of information from well placed sources in America, would [it] in time materially alter the estimates of Russian [atomic] production?’ The answer, from Michael Perrin, surprising now given the benefit

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of hindsight, was ‘that it was unlikely that any information that was disclosed to the Russians would materially alter the estimates.’3 This mistake was to prove to be remarkably costly. It is unclear whether MI5 increased its surveillance for any potential acts of atomic espionage following the Nunn May case. What is evident is how little was known of Soviet intelligence at this time, for as former Director-General Sir Dick White has observed, ‘No one had sufficiently thought about the communist threat, and the moment I thought about the Russians I realised it was a completely new and uncharted quantity.’4 This miscalculation first became clear with the postwar Anglo-American decipherment of wartime Soviet codes—the VENONA project.5 Evidence from VENONA revealed that there had been a multitude of atomic spies operating during the war, one of whom was correctly identified as Nunn May. Clues concerning another of the atomic spies discussed in the traffic suggested that the perpetrator could only be Klaus Fuchs, the current head of theoretical physics at the Atomic Energy Research Establishment, Harwell.6 These suspicions first arose in August 1949; the following month a meeting was held during which, for the first time, Michael Perrin of D.At.En. was informed. Given the very tight security restrictions placed on VENONA, it was decided that Fuchs would not be informed of the evidence against him but should instead be made to confess; the evidence was also concealed from his initial interrogator, Henry Arnold, Harwell’s security officer.7 In fact, there had always been slight doubts about Fuchs’ security clearance, but Ministry of Supply civil servants had decided to ignore them precisely because ‘the advantages gained by Harwell through the undoubted ability of Dr Fuchs outweigh the slight security risk.’8 The new VENONA-based suspicions against Fuchs occurred at a time when his services would otherwise have been needed—he would certainly have been involved in analysing the debris from the Joe-1 cloud—yet senior officials decided against using him, and he was kept away from sensitive work. One of the Britons who was privy to the VENONA evidence at this time was the SIS liaison officer with the Americans, Kim Philby. Although it is now known that an American cryptanalyst had already revealed the decipherment of the Soviet code to the Russians, Philby in particular would have known about the suspicions against Fuchs. What is not clear, however, is whether he informed his Soviet masters of this—certainly it seems that no attempt was made to prewarn Fuchs.9 A further meeting had been held in November 1949, and those present had included senior MI5 and atomic energy figures. It was decided that in order to help preserve Anglo-American relations the Fuchs case should be

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buried—accordingly the possibility was aired of offering Fuchs a nongovernmental post in a university, where he would no longer have access to secret information.10 At a later meeting Cockcroft even suggested that there was a suitable position at the University of Adelaide.11 The matter was eventually laid to rest in January 1950, once MI5 had complained about the lack of urgency Harwell was exhibiting in dismissing Fuchs.12 At the end of January 1950 Fuchs dictated a long statement to William Skardon, MI5’s interrogator, which was followed by more technical discussions of his espionage with Michael Perrin. Fuchs was tried on 1 March 1950 and was convicted of four counts of breaking the Official Secrets Act and of ‘communicating information to a potential enemy.’ He was sentenced to the maximum of fourteen years imprisonment.13 Surveying the trial, MI5 DirectorGeneral Sir Percy Sillitoe later observed how ‘watching that unassuming, unimpressive figure in court, I was shocked and appalled. This single foolish individual had, by a curious trick of fate, found himself in a position to alter the whole balance of world power.’14 An integral component of intelligence estimates is a consideration of knowing what the enemy knows about you. Fuchs’ admission of guilt and conviction therefore provided a potential information feast to the intelligence services, and accordingly a detailed interrogation became their paramount concern. British atomic intelligence had, through Perrin’s various discussions, attempted to discern precisely what information Fuchs had provided to the Soviets. The Americans were also extremely keen to discuss with Fuchs the extent of his espionage. Initially questions set by the US Joint Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee (comprising representatives of the AEC, CIA, State Department, and the services) had been given to Perrin in January. These were followed by a subsequent list discussed by Perrin in a meeting with Fuchs in March 1950.15 The Americans, however, were concerned about asking questions that involved information that was required to be withheld from the British under the terms of the McMahon Act. Accordingly they were determined to interrogate Fuchs for themselves. After several acrimonious discussions with MI5, the FBI was finally allowed to examine Fuchs in prison—though their investigators were always accompanied by an MI5 representative. The FBI therefore became the body through which the rest of the American intelligence establishment could communicate with Fuchs, and in May 1950 two FBI agents arrived at Wormwood Scrubs prison to begin their interrogation. The American intelligence community has rarely displayed any communal spirit, and this fragmentation was certainly evident in their approach to Fuchs. The FBI itself was largely preoccupied with identifying Fuchs’ American

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handler, eventually discovered to be Harry Gold. Conversely, the CIA and the AEC were more interested in what information Fuchs had given to the Russians.16 However, as the AEC was to discover, the FBI was reluctant to provide their organisation with full details, and thus, as one former senior AEC intelligence officer has commented, ‘both we and the British lost the opportunity to extract better information from Fuchs.’17 Despite seemingly good relations between the FBI and MI5, and between the British and American atomic intelligence units, the two sides did not share their evaluations of Fuchs’ disclosures. For the Americans this withholding of information was to prevent a leak prohibited by the McMahon Act; for the British it was to ensure that the United States would not know what they had learnt about work from Los Alamos.18 In his interviews, Michael Perrin had concluded that Fuchs was genuinely trying to be as accurate as possible in his recollections of what he had passed. It transpired that Fuchs had conveyed information on the origins of the British project in 1942, and on the American gaseous diffusion project once he relocated to the United States in 1943. In February 1945 Fuchs passed a report he had written summarizing ‘the whole problem of making an atomic bomb as he saw it.’ He passed a subsequent report on the same topic in June, this time also using information from the relevant files at Los Alamos; he also provided material on the design to be tested at Trinity. After returning to England, Fuchs was employed at Harwell. Harwell was concerned exclusively with the peaceful aspects of atomic energy, yet Fuchs was a frequent visitor to William Penney’s weapons development laboratory at Fort Halstead. According to Fuchs he had refused to answer Soviet questions on the size of the US stockpile or about the British programme, yet importantly he did provide more detailed information on the fission bomb. In regard to the hydrogen bomb, Fuchs noted that he had given ‘the Russian agent the essential nuclear physics data and the general picture as far as it was then [in mid-1947] known to him of how the weapon would work.’19 The speed with which the Soviet Union had created a successful atomic weapons programme surprised many in the West. In the immediate aftermath of Joe-1, the implications of Fuchs’ treachery offered a simple explanation for the Soviets’ rapid success—leakage of information—and this view was certainly held by top scientists such as Harwell director Sir John Cockcroft.20 The Joint Intelligence Committee gave the espionage factor great prominence in intelligence assessments, where it was confidently stated that ‘the rapid Russian progress in developing atomic energy was undoubtedly made possible by Russian success in espionage.’21 This also underlined the contrast between the espionage successes of the Russians and the failures of the British.22

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Despite American estimates that Joe-1 had been a plutonium bomb, British radiochemical analyses of the samples had produced less definitive answers.23 Fuchs had confessed that that he had provided the Soviets with almost complete knowledge of the plutonium bomb. In light of this admission, the British also asserted that Joe-1 had been a plutonium bomb. Furthermore, given Fuchs’ information, it was assumed that the Soviet bomb was like the type dropped on Nagasaki.24 Accordingly, it was concluded that the plutonium bomb would also be the type of bomb the Soviets stockpiled, even though there was intelligence to indicate that the Soviet Union had been interested in the production of uranium-235 since 1947.25 Curiously, despite knowing that Fuchs had passed information on the hydrogen bomb to the Russians, British atomic intelligence experts did not factor this knowledge into estimates on the Soviet hydrogen bomb programme. Perhaps this was a result of the little information Britain itself possessed about the hydrogen bomb at this time. Certainly information on the fission bomb was heavily analysed. In any case, even by 1953, when the Soviets carried out additional atomic bomb tests, the JIC intelligence assessment was that ‘we have very little concrete information about Soviet hopes and intentions in the atomic energy field. . . . There is no evidence to date whether or not the USSR is experimenting with or making thermo-nuclear weapons.’26 This assertion is perhaps unsurprising, given the date of the estimates and the limited state of British knowledge about the hydrogen bomb at the time. Surveillance and debris analysis of the 1953 series of Soviet tests produced evidence of ‘a thermonuclear component,’ which was seen to indicate ‘a programme directed towards producing thermo-nuclear weapons.’ As mentioned above, however, what a ‘thermo-nuclear weapon’ actually was at this time remained unclear. The JIC noted that ‘we have not been put in possession of enough detail of the Russian success, and of what may have led to it, to enable us to give serious consideration to its implications, still less to draw any conclusions. We therefore merely report the event without further discussion.’27 Overall it seems that there was never any mention made by the JIC of the thermonuclear weapons material passed by Fuchs and subsequent Soviet development. By the time the British were aware of how to construct the hydrogen bomb—when potentially they would have known how important the material Fuchs passed to the Soviets was—the Soviet Union had already detonated one the previous year. Given the comparatively advanced status of the US nuclear weapons programme, the Americans, in contrast to the British, were in a far better position to assess the information Fuchs had passed to the Russians. They were aware

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of Perrin’s findings but also conducted extensive investigations. According to the report written by the two FBI agents sent to Wormwood Scrubs, Fuchs believed he had accelerated the Soviet programme by one year, because his information would have allowed the scientists to work on the bomb itself while the plutonium was being produced; hence, the limiting factor in the programme would have been production and not raw materials.28 In addition, an AEC intelligence report had commented on the invaluable role Fuchs had played at Los Alamos on work on the atomic bomb.29 Like the British, the Americans were quick to associate the speed of Joe-1 with the impact of espionage, but they did so more explicitly: ‘The evidence available to date of Soviet atomic energy espionage activities warrants at least the inference that Soviet plant design, construction and operation have been carried out with reasonably full knowledge of all other atomic energy programmes.’30 Of far more importance, however, were estimates of Fuchs’ contribution to the Soviet hydrogen bomb programme, and surrounding this topic the information exchanges with Britain—or lack thereof—really are apparent. Various organisations within the US government undertook studies to assess what information Fuchs had access to in regard to the hydrogen bomb. The AEC’s evaluation—written by some of the leading Los Alamos scientists—was rapidly completed and passed to the FBI in May 1950. The report aimed to evaluate Fuchs’ participation in thermonuclear work at Los Alamos.31 Another study had been authorized by Robert LeBaron, the chairman of the Military Liaison Committee. LeBaron asked Major General Kenneth Nichols32 and Brigadier General Herbert Loper33 for a study evaluating the significance of Fuchs’ treachery. Their report concluded that ‘if [the Russians] had accepted everything [Fuchs has provided] and taken action they could very well be ahead of us in the development of the hydrogen bomb.’34 Both these reports, however, were written with regard to the question ‘What information did Fuchs have access to?’ A far more important study was conducted in 1952 with a different question in mind: ‘How much had the Russians actually learned about the American H-bomb from Fuchs?’ This question also took into account further information that Fuchs may have had access to after leaving Los Alamos, and any subsequent independent work he had undertaken.35 The Fuchs case erupted in late 1949 and could not have come at a worse time for the British. The Soviet atomic bomb test had been a defining moment in Anglo-American atomic intelligence relations. Up until its successful detection the British and the Americans had exchanged only some information on the Soviet programme. More importantly, during its detection the British and

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the Americans had cooperated in terms of not only the collection of radioactive samples, but also the analysis. The result of this teamwork had been renewed calls and efforts on both sides to converge atomic relations—in terms of both intelligence and scientific exchange. Consequently, the two nations had made plans to hold Anglo-American conferences on both matters for late 1949, though the British sensibly decided it was more beneficial to postpone the intelligence conference in favour of a technical-exchange meeting.36 Talks on resuming some level of technical exchange began in earnest in late September 1949, with the British represented by Sir John Cockcroft and Sir Oliver Franks, the British ambassador to the United States.37 Talks continued into December, with the British party augmented by William Penney, the head of the nuclear weapons programme. During these talks Cockcroft was certainly aware of the suspicions surrounding Fuchs, though it is less clear whether Penney was or not.38 Discussions went so favourably that US Secretary of State Dean Acheson had confided to Franks that ‘it should be possible to get Congress to make the necessary changes in the law.’ The British Cabinet met at the end of December to discuss the situation and approved. It was then, however, that the case broke.39 The situation was eloquently summed up by US Undersecretary of State for Atomic Energy Gordon Arneson: ‘We were getting very close to really going into bed with the British, with a new agreement. Then the Fuchs affair hit the fan and that was the end of it.’40 The Fuchs case destroyed any British hopes for a resumption of the wartime nuclear partnership, a fact admitted on both sides of the Atlantic.41 At a subsequent meeting in February 1950, the AEC was instructed that ‘no new areas of collaboration were to be opened.’42 The case raised many questions about MI5, in particular about its vetting procedures, and this appears to have been a contributing factor to the American decision. Despite such overtones, the Fuchs case still sits uneasily with the arguments advanced by Andrew, Aldrich, and Kerr. Though both nations felt that the case all but ended British hopes of restoring the wartime full nuclear collaboration with the Americans, the impact of Fuchs’ espionage was far greater in the Soviet Union, where his information accelerated the atomic weapons programme and helped instigate the hydrogen bomb programme.43 British Foreign Minister Ernest Bevin communicated to Acheson his hope that the case would not result in an ‘anti-British feeling arising in this country [the United States] in so far as security is concerned.’44 In June 1950 Washington hosted a tripartite conference on security standards. British participation and representation at the conference was effectively an attempt to repair security relations with the Americans—to convince them that the British could still

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be trusted. The Fuchs case had in fact convinced MI5’s Director-General Sir Percy Sillitoe that something needed to be changed in terms of how potential government employees were security vetted.45 The Americans had made it patently clear that they felt the British should adopt positive vetting—a system under which positive, active steps were taken to interview not only the individual in question, but friends and colleagues too (as opposed to negative vetting, under which just an applicant’s files were assessed for security risks).46 The resulting attempt to inform the Americans of these steps was the June 1950 conference.47 Following an ‘informal hint,’ Perrin raised the question of the Fuchs case on the final day, a move that was welcomed by the Americans, who received the presentation ‘sympathetically and expressed their gratitude for having been given a first-hand explanation.’48 In fact the Americans’ biggest concern had appeared to be why Fuchs had never been directly asked if he had ever been a communist.49 In one of Attlee’s final Cabinet meetings, the decision was taken to formally adopt positive vetting,50 a practice that soon spread to other areas within the British government.51 Nonetheless, the British were less than happy with American views on MI5’s security procedures—views first expressed with Fuchs’ arrest in February 1950—procedures that the British deemed satisfactory.52 General Leslie Groves reminisced that Fuchs ‘was a British responsibility. . . . The United Kingdom not only failed us, but herself as well.’53 In 1951 these views were amplified by the publication of Soviet Atomic Espionage—a record of the congressional committee report. Perrin saw it as an opportunity to ‘throw all the blame on the British.’54 Perrin’s stance—that Fuchs’ greatest acts of treachery had actually occurred on American soil—was shared by many of his colleagues.55 Indeed, although no records directly confirm this belief, there must have been some discussion about the fact that the American technician David Greenglass—albeit a less influential atomic spy—who had worked on the Manhattan Project, was also soon to be arrested.56 MI5’s reaction was to play down the lapse in security. In March 1951 Alex Longair, a member of the British Joint Services Mission in Washington, reported ‘that the Fuchs case keeps popping up every now and again here and I must say that we are doing ourselves a great deal of harm by being officially silent on it. Isn’t there any chance of someone making an informed statement about it?’57 In due course MI5 ‘authorised’ a somewhat misleading account of the atomic spies, which was published in 1952 by the journalist Alan Moorehead as The Traitors.58 Moorehead’s book was to include an account of another ‘atom spy,’ the recently defected Harwell scientist Bruno Pontecorvo.

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Following the Alan Nunn May case, the British and the Americans assumed that the Russians could discover nothing more through espionage. Remarkably, this viewpoint was never reconsidered in light of the Fuchs case. In fact, even before the chaos caused by Fuchs’ disclosures had died down, the case of another Harwell scientist, Bruno Pontecorvo, was to become public knowledge. Pontecorvo’s defection was dealt with in a very similar way to the Fuchs case—MI5 attempted to reduce the extent of Pontecorvo’s access to secret material, in a move not only to reduce its own liability but also to preserve relations with the Americans. Dr Bruno Pontecorvo had trained under the Nobel Prize–winning physicist Enrico Fermi. As a Jew, Pontecorvo was forced to flee the repression in Italy in the late 1930s. He filled various positions until finding work in 1943 with the tube alloys project at Montreal and later Chalk River in Canada. Although tempted by a variety of university posts, he remained in this position until taking a job at Harwell in early 1949.59 Although it was perhaps not his primary choice, he chose to work for the British government, according to Chalk River colleague Wilfrid Mann, ‘out of a sense of obligation to us for what we had done for him during the war.’60 At Harwell, Pontecorvo’s talents were immediately realised, and he became an expert in reactor piles. In May 1949 he became a full member of Harwell’s Power Steering Committee, which discussed reactor technology, fissile material, and aspects of pile design.61 Harwell was not directly involved in the design of weapons, and unlike Fuchs it appears Pontecorvo had no involvement with Penney’s High Explosive Research group at Fort Halstead. Pontecorvo was evidently held in extremely high regard. His initial employment in Canada had been justified because of his ‘brilliance’ and ‘reputation.’62 Harwell director Sir John Cockcroft also recognised Pontecorvo’s supreme worth: ‘He is a good leader. . . . I consider that Pontecorvo is the best nuclear physicist not occupying a university chair in this country at the present time and he compares favourably with occupants of university chairs.’63 In the wake of the Fuchs case, many scientists on both sides of the Atlantic began to question their fellow workers. At Harwell, Fuchs’ successor, Professor (now Lord) Brian Flowers, commented that this was a ‘dreadful morale breaker’ that lasted for months.64 Amidst this environment, Pontecorvo went to see Harwell security officer Henry Arnold in February 1950 as part of normal security routines that included the distribution of a questionnaire about workers’ families. During these discussions Pontecorvo admitted to Arnold that his brother was a communist.65 By this stage Pontecorvo himself had undergone

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six security checks and had become a naturalised British citizen.66 A further meeting with Arnold disclosed that in fact numerous relatives of Pontecorvo were communists; at the same time, however, Bruno himself denied having any communist sympathies.67 Following such disclosures it was decided that Pontecorvo was a potential security risk and that it would be much more suitable if he were given a university job that would not bring him into contact with classified material. After much debate, Pontecorvo finally accepted a position at Liverpool University, to begin in January 1951.68 Though unavoidable, such a move was, in Cockcroft’s view, ‘a most serious loss to Harwell.’69 This decision was taken in mid1950; in July Pontecorvo was set to take his routine summer holiday to Europe. Nothing more was thought of the matter until Pontecorvo failed to return from the family holiday in September 1950. Initially a decision was taken by MI5 to conceal the disappearance, yet soon afterwards the Daily Express published details. Initial MI5 investigations ‘drew a complete blank,’ for as Dick White recalled, ‘we [had] no clues.’70 By the following month both the Ministry of Supply and SIS had conducted European searches to trace Pontecorvo, and though no evidence yet indicated that he had defected to the Soviet Union, ‘the appearance[s] are clearly very black.’71 By this stage investigations into Pontecorvo’s past by MI5 had found evidence that both he and his wife were in fact communists.72 Simultaneously a newspaper story broke, revealing that Pontecorvo had resurfaced behind the Iron Curtain. Bruno Pontecorvo has traditionally been labelled as one of the ‘atom spies,’ but was he primarily a spy or a defector, and did he have access to weaponsrelated research? These issues can be considered by discussing the question of why Pontecorvo decided to leave Britain in the manner he did and go to the Soviet Union. Pontecorvo himself, in his first public statement in 1955, revealed that he had ‘just emigrated’ to the Soviet Union, and that he felt he could no longer bear the ‘direct questioning’ on the part of the British authorities.73 Is there any evidence to support these statements? It is unclear whether or not Pontecorvo ever was a ‘spy.’ In one of the few accounts that discuss his predefection espionage, Christopher Andrew and Oleg Gordievsky describe how Pontecorvo, following his 1943 employment in Canada, ‘offered his services’ to the Soviet authorities. The Soviets thought it a ploy, however, and did not reply, and so Pontecorvo deposited ‘a packet of classified documents and calculations to the Embassy . . . [and he continued] working as both a nuclear scientist and a Soviet agent.’74 Other writers have queried this claim; certainly no evidence in either Russian or Western accounts suggest that Pontecorvo was active in espionage.75 Just as bizarre as his decision

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to defect was the nature of his departure—a rapid change of plan and then disappearance. Andrew and Gordievsky claim that the decision to do so stemmed from an order emanating out of Moscow. They suggest that this order was a result of the increased spy hysteria gripping atomic science, but John Costello goes further by claiming that this warning came courtesy of Kim Philby, who may have been privy to sensitive discussions amongst the British authorities as to what should be done.76 From the point of view of the British response, more important than the motivation of his defection was a consideration of the impact of Pontecorvo’s disappearance on intelligence estimates. The initial enquiry was to verify what information Pontecorvo had access to. In a personal briefing with Attlee, MI5 deputy-director Guy Liddell concluded that the atomic intelligence unit had ‘expressed the view that for several years Pontecorvo had hardly had any contact with secret work.’77 Although MI5 was once more, as in the Fuchs case, to deceive Attlee about its responsibility, it appears that Liddell’s conclusion was correct in terms of weapons-related secrets.78 Turchetti, in the most recent reevaluation of the Pontecorvo case, has commented that Pontecorvo had ‘full access to atomic secrets in view of his senior position in the British nuclear programme.’ What this conclusion fails to consider, however, is the fact that Pontecorvo was not engaged in weapons-related work—and this was the area of primary concern to British atomic intelligence.79 By the early 1950s the British atomic programme had been effectively split in two, with weapons-related work undertaken at Aldermaston and nonweapons work at Harwell; significantly, there was very little interaction between the two establishments. Once more Michael Perrin was to be the chief figure involved in the intelligence considerations of Pontecorvo’s defection. Perrin was chosen, it appears, not least because of his familiarity with the intelligence services and the science involved, but also because the Americans had learnt of the case and were anxious for an assessment. Perrin concluded that since 1945 Pontecorvo had ‘withdrawn from technological work’ and that, significantly, ‘he had no contact with atomic weapons work.’ In this way, therefore, his ‘main value to the Russian atomic energy project would result from his knowledge of the main nuclear features of the Canadian Heavy Water Research pile.’80 There was considerable concern in Britain over the US reaction, especially as the Pontecorvo case arose so soon after the Fuchs case. Perrin was extremely careful to indicate that his assessment should not be passed to the United States. But the lack of information seemed to render the Americans only more anxious about the security implications.81 Once more the case was deliberately muted by MI5 authorities, who in their keenness to exonerate

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themselves were quick to blame the wartime British Security Co-ordination organisation and the Ministry of Supply for the security lapse.82 In addition to the Fuchs case, the revelations about Pontecorvo reinforced the desire of the Security Service to absolve themselves of blame, and this ultimately led to the release of a semiofficial account in the form of Moorehead’s MI5-authorised book in 1952. Donald Maclean

Following the disclosures regarding two leading British atomic scientists, it is interesting to consider the British view regarding potential future cases of espionage. The status of Fuchs and Pontecorvo arguably created a sense of complacency. George Carey Foster, the head of security at the Foreign Office, commented at this time that it was ‘inconceivable that any senior member of the service could be a traitor.’83 In fact, the head of SIS, Sir Stewart Menzies, had earlier commented that ‘spies are only people of foreign origin.’84 Both assertions were to prove to be disastrously mistaken with the disappearance in 1951 of two Foreign Office officials, Donald Maclean and Guy Burgess. Although a vast corpus of work exists on these two members of the ‘Cambridge Comintern,’ little attention has been given to their atomic espionage, particularly that of Maclean. There were certain similarities with the Fuchs and Pontecorvo cases, as once more the Security Service authorities took it upon themselves to disguise their culpability. Whereas Fuchs and Pontecorvo provided the Soviets with scientific and technical intelligence, Donald Maclean provided a similarly outstanding service in regard to political and diplomatic atomic information.85 Anthony Glees has argued that the most damaging thing Maclean did was to defect. Similarly, Sheila Kerr, in the most recent substantial account of Maclean’s espionage, has claimed that he was not an ‘atom spy.’86 Neither assertion, however, is supported by the facts—Maclean was in a position to offer extremely important atomic secrets to the Russians and did so. In fact it has been claimed by John Costello and Oleg Tsarev—incorporating their privileged access to KGB archives— that Maclean ‘was one of Stalin’s most valuable spies.’87 Donald Maclean, the son of a former cabinet minister, became a communist while at the University of Cambridge. He entered the diplomatic service and after holding various positions was sent to the British embassy in Washington in 1944. The embassy was, according to Denis Greenhill (a diplomat posted there in the late 1940s and future Chairman of the JIC), ‘the flagship Embassy of the British Foreign Service.’88 Maclean was the ‘Golden boy of the FO’ and held the post of second secretary.89

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‘Among our sources,’ as Maclean’s onetime KGB controller Yuri Modin recalled, ‘there was one who was very conveniently placed to gather political information on the Anglo-American nuclear programme.’90 Following Maclean’s defection, both the British and American intelligence services attempted to cover up the extent of Maclean’s access to vital atomic secrets—but what was he privy to? As second and then first secretary, and later temporary head of Chancery, Maclean was a senior diplomat in the British embassy, responsible for embassy security. His official role was to explain British policy to the Americans, and one of his first tasks was as liaison officer to the British Joint Services Mission. This role provided access to a range of military matters and, significantly, gave him access to some atomic information, particularly as such material was often transmitted to London through BJSM cables.91 Maclean began to work for Sir Roger Makins, then responsible for atomic policy at the embassy. Although this work concerned primarily political and diplomatic aspects, according to William Penney, it also included intelligence matters.92 Maclean was thus indoctrinated into the inner circle of atomic policy making.93 As a result, and in a rather paradoxical manner, his embassy office was strengthened, with steel grilles placed over the door and windows, and a combination safe added. In fact, only Maclean, Makins, and their secretaries were allowed access.94 In February 1947 Maclean became the secretary to the Anglo-American Combined Policy Committee (CPC), and this appointment enabled him to access the inner sanctum of the nuclear special relationship. The CPC was designed to coordinate Anglo-American atomic policy. Following the passing of the McMahon Act the previous year its status had been somewhat undermined, yet it remained important for discussions on various nontechnical areas.95 Although Maclean would have been involved sporadically in CPC discussions before February, it was from this point on that he became further immersed in nuclear matters. One of the CPC’s main tasks involved discussion of worldwide raw material stocks—so Maclean was privy to discussions regarding the location and allocation of uranium reserves for both the United Kingdom and the United States. This information was crucial, for it could be used to provide an approximate estimate of stockpile figures for atomic weapons.96 In addition, Maclean was involved in the discussions of another body, the Combined Development Agency (CDA). Working with the CPC, the CDA was responsible for ensuring that foreign nations could not acquire any stocks of uranium. This role was crucial, for as was seen in Chapter 1, estimates of Soviet amounts of uranium were central to intelligence forecasts at this time.

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In an attempt to find a common ground in terms of declassification standards, an Anglo-American conference was held in late 1947. Maclean was part of the British contingent, as was Klaus Fuchs. Both were at the conference itself and were present for at least one of the parties in the evenings. During his interrogation, Fuchs was asked about Maclean but apparently had no recollection of ever having met him. It is almost certain that neither would have known the other was also a spy.97 One of the discussions at the conference centred on what was, at that stage, a relatively new phenomenon—the detection of distant nuclear explosions. Anglo-American plans for the long-range detection of a potential Soviet test were strengthened a few months later in the modus vivendi of 1948, of which Maclean was once more party.98 It is evident that Area 5—as the longrange detection programme became known—was a hugely secret component of the Anglo-American relationship. Fuchs, who also was aware of it but to a far lesser extent, was quizzed by Michael Perrin about whether he had passed information on it—which he denied. In fact, as is now known, neither must have passed any intelligence of real value because the Soviets instigated their own long-range-detection programme only after the rapid Western detection of Joe-1 (see Chapter 4). As secretary of the CPC, Maclean was given a pass to the Atomic Energy Commission’s building. More important still was the fact that the pass permitted him unescorted access to the building, even outside of normal working hours—something that even J. Edgar Hoover did not have!99 A check after his defection found that Maclean had visited the AEC building at least twenty times. Maclean’s pass indicates something of his prestige at this time, for even members of Congress and senior governmental figures were required to have an escort.100 Sheila Kerr has correctly identified the two key aspects to the US-UK ‘special relationship’ at this time—atomic policy and intelligence.101 In his role as understudy to Makins, Maclean would have been privy to some of the British intelligence assessments of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme, which would have included not only the long-range-detection programme but also more general intelligence estimates. Intelligence was a crucial aspect of the Anglo-American atomic relationship; indeed, Maclean may have played an important role in this relationship because he was at the embassy before Wilfrid Mann—the full-time liaison officer—arrived. No documents reveal exactly what intelligence Maclean may have seen, but Makins certainly had access to whatever passed through the embassy, and the evidence certainly suggests that whatever Makins saw Maclean did too.

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In his role as British Joint Services Mission liaison officer, Maclean would have seen various intelligence reports. More importantly, through the CDA he would have been aware of intelligence assessments of Soviet stocks of uranium. It is likely, therefore, that Maclean would have known about the AngloAmerican belief that the Soviet Union did not yet have a bomb. It is also possible that he may have been aware of discussions concerning how much of a retarding impact estimates of Soviet uranium levels would have had on predictions for the first Soviet atomic bomb.102 In addition, Maclean provided the Soviets with details of intelligence officers working at the British embassy.103 Given the timescale, it is likely that this information would have excluded Wilfrid Mann, but it is possible that Maclean would have come into contact with Eric Welsh at some stage, who had an office in the embassy and would have been a regular visitor since 1945. Donald Maclean left the British embassy in late 1948 to return to the Foreign Office. However, he was to continue to be able to provide the Soviet Union with vital strategic and military documents. In 1948 Maclean was involved in the first discussions that would lead, the following year, to the AngloAmerican military alliance—the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation.104 Two years later, in 1950, Maclean was promoted to head the American Department of the Foreign Office. In this role he was present at talks between Attlee and President Truman regarding the Korean War; thus he had access to very highgrade material, described by Peter Hennessy and Kathleen Townsend as ‘regarded as pure gold in intelligence terms.’105 Like that of Fuchs, Maclean’s treachery was eventually discovered through a careful examination of VENONA material. In early 1951 suspicions of Maclean were discussed at a high-level meeting held in Whitehall. MI5 officials decided that it would be best to monitor and follow Maclean in an attempt to identify his Soviet handlers, thereby providing evidence other than VENONA that could be used to prove his guilt, not least because the VENONA material could not be used in a court of law. In direct contrast to the Fuchs case, in which the FBI had not been immediately informed of MI5’s initial doubts about their scientist, Sillitoe this time decided to keep his American counterpart informed, and so the identification of the agent known as ‘Homer’ was quickly transmitted to the FBI through the SIS link in the British embassy, where the message was unfortunately read by Kim Philby. Before the plan to tail Maclean could be put into effective action, Philby was able to warn Maclean of the evidence against him. By May, and with surveillance efforts thus far inconclusive, MI5 decided that Maclean must be arrested and informed the FBI, again through Philby at the Washington embassy. As a result

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Maclean was warned in time of his impending detention. He slipped out of Britain three days before his scheduled arrest and arrived some days later in the Soviet Union.106 In contrast to Pontecorvo’s disappearance, surrounding which there was initial uncertainty regarding his true whereabouts, it was immediately evident that Maclean had vanished to the Soviet Union. His escape was a colossal blunder, and all that could be done was to conduct a damage assessment. As one unidentified former intelligence officer has testified, ‘The decisive thing [was] to have good information on what was passed over.’107 Maclean had had full access to Anglo-American military and atomic planning, and as Kerr has astutely observed, ‘His access was limited only by what the British military wished to keep from the Foreign Office and what the American military kept secret from the British.’108 No records seem to exist in the public domain regarding the British investigation into Maclean’s espionage—though such an investigation would undoubtedly have taken place. Unofficially, however, some clues do exist. Makins, understandably perhaps, attempted to suggest that the damage Maclean did before his defection had been ‘seriously exaggerated.’ He did admit, though, that Maclean had passed ‘valuable information’ to the Soviets while in Washington.109 There appear to be no estimates of this information, save for a brief assessment in a JIC report of September 1951, which deals mainly with Fuchs and Pontecorvo: ‘[Soviet] scientific intelligence has been notably successful in penetrating the defence research of the West. Russian science, is now, therefore, in a position to give considerable assistance to the Soviet war machine.’110 Far more revealing and accessible are the assessments conducted by the Americans. According to Denis Greenhill, who was in the Washington embassy at the time of Maclean’s defection, those Americans ‘who had known Maclean realised the seriousness of [his] flight as he had collaborated with them on very sensitive matters.’111 Four different US governmental departments conducted investigations into Maclean: the FBI, the State Department, the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS), and the AEC—naturally, given their nature, all four had different agendas and objectives in mind. The fact that so many different studies were conducted is testimony to the breadth and depth of material that Maclean had access to. Although the FBI was concerned with finding Maclean’s Soviet handlers, it appears that its studies were not conducted in any real depth until the mid1950s, by which time they also included Guy Burgess and Kim Philby—even though the latter had been cleared by British intelligence.112 However, smaller investigations were conducted immediately following his defection, and noted

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that Maclean dealt ‘with [the] political aspects of atomic energy,’ but significantly that ‘he had no access to classified scientific information.’113 Verne Newton has argued that the FBI authorities deliberately muted the extent of Maclean’s espionage because they were ‘not eager to advertise that a Soviet atomic spy had been working in Washington right under [their] noses.’ The State Department displayed similar reticence.114 However, this judgement in some respects misses the dichotomy identified in the two types of information, and which is evident in the FBI statement above: Maclean did not provide atomic secrets in the scientific sense, but did in the political sense. What is not clear, therefore, is why the assessments failed to mention just how important the political material was. The evaluation prepared for the American JCS was similarly not completed until 1955. It is unclear precisely why it took so long, but possibly it was a result of the publication, the same year, of the British governmental white paper on Burgess and Maclean. The report stated categorically that ‘the Soviets had acquired a vast amount of intelligence in the field of US/UK/Canada planning on atomic energy.’115 This very broad statement once more provides little in the way of detail on what Maclean passed to the Soviet Union. Robert Cecil, however, has argued that the contempt shown towards Maclean in the JCS and FBI mid-1950s assessments reveals ‘the measure of the confidence formerly accorded to him.’116 Of far more importance, particularly in terms of atomic intelligence estimates, were the damage assessments conducted by the AEC. The AEC authorities published their account in July 1951, yet they also sought to disguise the impact of Maclean’s espionage. According to Kerr, their intention in publishing was to ‘reassure Western opinion that Maclean’s current knowledge could not harm the West.’117 In private, however, senior figures in the AEC held a very different opinion. Judging by the discussions held in 1951 following Maclean’s defection, intensive investigations were conducted into what impact his espionage could have. The belief that the Soviet Union could estimate the number of American bombs from Maclean’s information was tested and verified against known figures, and it was concluded that ‘results would be widely misleading.’118 The AEC concluded that for the period covering Maclean’s appointment to the CPC secretaryship and his leaving the embassy, he ‘had the opportunity to be acquainted with all of the procedural discussions and political aspects of atomic energy.’ In this capacity, Maclean would have had access to some information that was ‘classified Top Secret,’ which ‘would then have been useful to the Russian atomic energy programme and strategic planners.’119 The AEC in its assessment, however, failed to incorporate any of Maclean’s pre-1947 activities—surprising, given that he had been at the embassy since 1944.

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Although the various British and American estimates detailed the extent of Maclean’s espionage to various levels, the common theme amongst all the reports was that he had finished passing atomic-related information in 1948. Consequently, despite defecting in 1951, Maclean could offer no new nuclear information to the Soviet Union; hence, ‘the atomic energy information then available [in 1948] to Maclean would not now [in 1951] be of any considerable aid to Russia.’120 In conclusion, therefore, given that Maclean’s atomic information was, by the time of his defection, three years out of date, intelligence estimates were not significantly altered. This conclusion perhaps explains why there was no change in JIC appreciations of the Soviet atomic programme at this time. Before considering MI5’s treatment of the case, it is first necessary to very briefly consider the role of Maclean’s fellow defector, Guy Burgess, and to verify what access he had to atomic information. Guy Burgess was a contemporary of Maclean’s at Cambridge. During the war he worked briefly for SIS and then for the BBC. Prior to the end of the war he was employed by the Foreign Office and in June 1950 was sent to the British embassy in Washington, where he became a guest at the Philby residence. Burgess’ greatest acts of espionage involving military matters occurred in the immediate postwar period. In 1946 he obtained the position of private secretary to the Foreign Office Minister Hector McNeil, who himself worked alongside Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin. Burgess remained in this position until 1948. During this time he would have had access to an array of important military and strategic discussions. Included amongst these were early discussions on the composition of NATO.121 He may also have been privy to early debates leading to the 1947 decision for Britain to launch an indigenous nuclear weapons programme. In addition, McNeil was involved in various intelligence-related activities.122 McNeil had eventually become tired of Burgess’ slack attitude, and in 1948 he was transferred to a position within the newly created and highly secret Information Research Department—the Foreign Office body responsible for propagating disinformation regarding the Soviet Union.123 Burgess’ employment within the IRD would almost certainly have brought him into contact with numerous British intelligence officers.124 Burgess did not stay in the IRD for long, however: He was once more moved into another branch of the Foreign Office, this time dealing with the Far East. Interestingly, before his relocation out of the IRD, an article appeared in a Soviet newspaper describing with almost firsthand accuracy details of the organisation.125 In mid-1950, with Burgess once more upsetting his superiors by his behaviour, he was given a

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final chance in the Foreign Office and was sent to the embassy in Washington. At the embassy he was responsible once more for the Far East, and so he may have been privy to information on the Korean War. Officially it seems unlikely that Burgess would have had any access to atomic information following his removal from McNeil’s office in 1948. Unofficially, however, he may have. While in Washington, Burgess lived in the basement of Philby’s house. This place certainly contained no secrets and was in fact where the train set belonging to Philby’s son was stored. However, it is entirely plausible that many in the embassy unwittingly provided Burgess with information. According to Philby himself, he even discussed VENONA evidence with Burgess—though it is inconceivable that Burgess provided information to his Soviet masters that Philby did not.126 Burgess’ embassy room was in the small main chancery and was diagonally opposite that of Wilfrid Mann, who was resident at the embassy throughout Burgess’ employment. In this section of the building, Mann has described how ‘each of us had his own job to do and very little time or inclination to interact with others.’127 In conversations with John Costello, however, Mann recalled how ‘Burgess purposely kept his own door ajar and sought any excuse for a chat.’128 Given the security restrictions on Mann’s own office, the impression is that any discussions between the two would have taken place in Burgess’ room.129 Mann’s liaison in the AEC, Arnold Kramish, has recently recalled that Burgess was close to Mann and that Mann himself ‘was extremely flustered’ when Burgess and Maclean defected.130 Despite this circumstance, however, it seems unlikely that Burgess would have learnt anything of a detailed nature from Mann. What is more, even if he had, it is even more unlikely that such information was anything that Philby could not otherwise have learnt. By the time of their defection in 1951, it appears that Burgess and Maclean were no longer of much value to the Soviet Union. Aldrich has asserted that ‘the work of moles and defectors had more impact in the West than in the East.’131 This assertion is certainly correct as far as the implications of the various cases are concerned, but it needs some qualification as a broader comment. Specifically, it fails to take into account the importance of the material passed while the agents were working for the United Kingdom, particularly in the case of Klaus Fuchs, whose scientific value was immense. Similarly, the quantity and overwhelming worth of material provided by Burgess and Maclean should not be underestimated. Given that the development of nuclear weapons throughout this period was a paramount concern to the Soviet leadership, the majority of related intelligence was considered crucial. In Britain,

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MI5 once more threw a public blanket over the case, ensuring that the full details could not be revealed. Security relations with the United States were of course the primary concern, and discussions continued where they had left off following the Fuchs case. In many respects the case of Burgess and Maclean died a quiet public death. Although it was known within Whitehall that they had defected to the East, as far as everyone else was concerned, they were ‘missing diplomats.’ However, in 1954 a Soviet intelligence officer, Vladimir Petrov, defected to the West. The following year he published an article in the People newspaper, revealing hitherto undisclosed details on the two. Significantly, Petrov also revealed that their defection had been instigated following the advice of a ‘Third Man.’ This factor was crucial, for it revealed to the world’s public that not only had Attlee’s government been deceptive, but significantly that there were further, as yet unidentified, Soviet agents working in the British government. This factor was certainly new to the public, but also, it seems, to the US administration.132 The result, a bungled attempt to downplay the growing rumours, was the authorisation of a governmental white paper on their defection (Cmnd 9577), published in September 1955, which may have prompted the American investigations being conducted at the same time. The paper, written by MI5, seriously misrepresented Maclean’s and Burgess’ access to secret information, and mentioned that they had been under suspicion for some time. One result was the start of a series of books published almost simultaneously that dealt primarily with the inexactness of the white paper.133 Philby, who had ‘resigned’ from SIS as a result of US suspicions, was suddenly thrust into the spotlight. SIS, however, as well as MI5, could provide no concrete evidence of Philby’s treachery, and in October 1955 J. Edgar Hoover authorised an article in New York’s Sunday Times, publicly naming and accusing him of being the Third Man.134 Kim Philby

In 1963 Kim Philby, onetime senior SIS officer, defected from his home in the Middle East and resurfaced in the Soviet Union. This action confirmed to many people suspicions that had been present since the defection of Burgess and Maclean twelve years earlier. Although his disappearance falls outside the timescale considered in this study, it is necessary to examine Philby’s atomic espionage because he was repeatedly assessed throughout the 1950s and particularly because he was believed by the intelligence services to be guilty, even though no definite proof could be found. Philby’s defection convinced the

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British intelligence services, in fact for the first time, that they had seriously underestimated Soviet penetration—though by this time it was too late. Since his defection Kim Philby has continued to receive considerable attention from both historians and the British and American governments.135 If Maclean was the rising star of the Foreign Office, then by all accounts Philby was his counterpart—in more ways than one—in the Secret Intelligence Service. Although various authors have disagreed how far Philby was away from becoming the chief of the SIS, the fact cannot be denied that he was being groomed for a very senior position within the service. A Cambridge contemporary of Maclean and Burgess, Philby initially worked as a correspondent in the 1930s. During the Second World War he was drafted into SIS and worked in the Iberian Section. Although not officially initiated into atomic secrets at this time, Philby may have come across some pieces of classified information, for his section was located close to the SIS registry (archives)—to which Philby had access. Also, Philby often volunteered for night duty at Broadway House, which often threw ‘new light on the operations of the service.’136 Unlike many other governmental departments, SIS had, perhaps as early as 1943, begun to perceive the Soviet Union as the next potential threat to British security. Within this environment, Philby was able to outmanoeuvre his opponents to become the head of Section IX of SIS—that responsible for Soviet counterespionage. One of Philby’s tasks in this role brought him into contact—possibly for the first time—with atomic matters, for he was responsible for the SIS aspects of the investigation into Gouzenko’s revelations. Philby was kept informed by MI5 of its investigations and by Roger Hollis (head of C Directorate (security) and the leading authority on Soviet counterespionage) in particular, who headed it.137 The postwar reorganisation of SIS (in which Philby played a leading role) had resulted in the creation of various ‘Requirements’ sections: Philby as wartime head of Section IX became head of R5, responsible for Soviet counterespionage. Implicated by Gouzenko was physicist Alan Nunn May, and Philby became involved in the investigations, continuing his association with the case until Nunn May was finally convicted and imprisoned.138 Philby passed a great deal of information about the case to his Soviet masters, though ultimately this information would have been of only limited use.139 Following the conclusion of the Nunn May case and the fact that there was a general belief about the lack of any further traitors, it appears that Philby was not involved in any subsequent work concerning atomic matters. Despite the presence within SIS of atomic intelligence, given Eric Welsh’s strict and secure control over the dissemination of information, it is almost certain that

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Philby would not have been privy to any of it—though he would have been aware of the unit’s existence and composition. This situation changed out of all recognition, however, when, in late 1949, Philby was appointed SIS liaison officer with the American intelligence agencies at the British embassy in Washington. Indeed, 1949 probably marked the apogee of Soviet activities with human agents in this field. In many respects the atomic material Philby provided during his tenure as SIS liaison officer complemented the technical information provided by Fuchs and the political information provided by Maclean. Philby was in the ideal position to inform the Soviet Union about the nature and composition of intelligence activities directed against the Soviet Union, in particular those relating to atomic weapons. Philby’s office was located in the same part of the N-shaped embassy building as Burgess’ and Mann’s offices—in fact it was situated directly next door to Wilfrid Mann. This part of the embassy—which also housed the MI5 liaison officer, the Foreign Office security officer, and all the respective secretaries—was collectively known as the ‘Rogue’s Gallery.’ Unsurprisingly, given the inhabitants of this part of the embassy, it was the most secure part of the whole building, with grilles and locks on all the doors.140 Despite in theory representing the same organisation, Philby and Mann had little operational overlap; in fact, according to Mann’s memoirs they had very little acquaintance whatsoever. The majority of the contact they did have was due to Philby’s secure communication link with the United Kingdom, which was reserved for ‘information of the highest classification.’141 Indeed, this is somewhat of an understatement—Mann’s messages sent through Philby’s SIS link were almost exclusively for the attention of Welsh and included only those messages considered to be ‘astronomically sensitive.’ Philby may not have seen all those messages, however, because they were primarily given to Mann’s secretary for encryption. Such messages continued to be sent through Philby throughout his tenure in the embassy.142 Of this information it is impossible to know what Philby saw and what he passed. Philby’s initial tasks were important to the atomic picture: providing a means of communication with London on Joe-1 and liaising with the United States on the Fuchs case. His initial period in the embassy overlapped with that of his departing predecessor, Peter Dwyer. It was during this time that the first evidence appeared regarding the detection of Joe-1. The first Philby heard of the news was apparently when Mann ‘ran into Kim’s office and said: “Just listen to what’s happening! This telegram from London says that Moscow exploded an atom bomb!” ’According to the most recent account of his espionage,

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Philby, however, because his appointment was so new, could not convey the news, as he had no Soviet handler.143 Following this episode, Philby became heavily involved in the AngloAmerican deliberations in the immediate aftermath of Joe-1. In fact he was so busy that he and Dwyer spent three or four days solid transmitting messages to London.144 Philby therefore had, at the very least, limited knowledge of the long-range-detection programme, though it is unclear how much of this information was provided to the Russians. Although Borovik states that Philby had no Soviet handler at this time, it is possible that the information found its way to the East in connection with the Fuchs case. At the same time as the Joe-1 discussions Philby learnt of the suspicions regarding Klaus Fuchs. Before he had left for Washington, Maurice Oldfield— the future head of SIS—had briefed Philby on VENONA.145 Although it is not obvious how extensive this would have been, certainly within a very short time of arriving in Washington Philby was indoctrinated into the breadth and depth of the material. Philby was assisted in such matters as he was the SIS liaison officer with the FBI, but also as he worked closely with MI5’s representative in Washington, Geoffrey Paterson. In his memoirs Philby describes the events surrounding the evidence against Fuchs and his subsequent capture.146 He does not mention whether he managed to tip off the Soviets about the suspicions, however, and this has been the source of some dispute in the literature ever since. Nigel West has argued that Philby actually tried to warn Fuchs himself but was delayed, while Rhodes says that Fuchs probably was warned.147 Andrew and Mitrokhin argue that KGB officials were aware but did not try to warn Fuchs, though they did warn other agents who had been in contact with Fuchs;148 former Stasi (East German secret police) chief Marcus Wolf expresses his amazement that Moscow did not try to rescue Fuchs.149 The fact is that this would still have been at a time when Philby had no handler in the United States, yet at the same time he did have the means to warn the Soviet Union. Before his departure to the United States, but significantly after his briefing by Oldfield, Philby informed Burgess of the existence of VENONA. Burgess was apparently also informed about the early suspicions against Fuchs but forgot to tell his KGB masters until February 1950, some time after Fuchs’ arrest. The following month Philby returned to London to discuss the Fuchs case with SIS, and it is possible that he then provided more, postevent, detail to the Soviets.150 Through his involvement with Joe-1 and the Fuchs case, Philby would have met various figures involved in atomic intelligence. In fact, given his earlier involvement with the restructuring of the postwar SIS organisation, Philby

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would have been aware of the atomic intelligence unit within SIS. In a report dated 20 November 1945, Philby informed his Soviet masters of the existence of this new unit, and in particular of its far more secret, covert SIS existence and the fact that it was headed by Eric Welsh.151 Given his contact with the messages Mann sent to London, it is likely that Philby would have known more about Welsh’s organisation and its operations. This is further confirmed given that Welsh flew to Washington to take part in the discussions following the detection of Joe-1. In fact, Mann recalls in his memoirs that he ‘is almost certain’ that Philby visited Welsh in hospital at this time, as the latter was recovering from a heart attack.152 In return, Mann felt compelled to inform Welsh of one particular incident concerning Philby and Burgess. At a party at the Philby residence, at which there had been present some senior figures from the US intelligence community, Burgess had drunkenly staggered in late and had been disrespectful to the wife of one of the guests. As a result the party disbanded and Mann—who had also been present—eventually left for home. Upon returning for his car the following morning, he had been let into Philby’s house by his wife. She informed him that Philby was upstairs, and Mann was amazed to discover ‘Philby and Burgess in the double bed. . . . They were propped up on pillows, wearing pyjamas. . . . They were drinking champagne together.’153 The event left a mark on Mann, and as he was en route to London to visit Welsh anyway, he informed him of the episode. Welsh, however, was uninterested in the doubts Mann raised concerning a senior figure within SIS.154 Philby continued to work at the embassy and came into more contact with Anglo-American military plans, though not all of them were specifically atomic related. As with Maclean, Philby was effectively limited only by that information the United States or other British departments did not officially want the SIS to see. Philby was involved in various joint CIA-SIS plans to undermine the Soviet bloc, and certainly succeeded in foiling some of them. As his link to London remained the most secure, Philby’s office continued to be used for the most secret communications. Thus, discussions concerning Strategic Air Command’s desire for UK and British Commonwealth bases may have found their way to the Soviet Union. These discussions would have involved some dialogue regarding Anglo-American war plans,155 and included amongst these were SIS-CIA plans for cooperation in the event of war.156 Following the defection of Maclean and Burgess, members of the intelligence community began to ask questions about whether the defectors had been ‘tipped off’—thus indicating the presence of a ‘third man.’ Philby fell under immediate suspicion because of his relationship in Washington, albeit short,

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with Burgess. FBI investigators were the chief instigators of this theory, placing a listening device in the Philby house.157 Philby’s position soon became untenable—not only as liaison with the Americans but also within SIS as a whole, and he was ordered back to London, where it was suggested he submit his resignation. Although Philby seemingly had the confidence of ‘C’ and various other colleagues in SIS, many other prominent figures in British intelligence began to question Philby’s allegiance. Upon his return to the United Kingdom in mid-1951, Philby was repeatedly questioned by various MI5 interrogators, though none could provide any tangible evidence of guilt.158 As one MI5 officer concluded, ‘guilt unproven but suspicion remained.’159 Despite working once more for SIS in the Middle East, Philby continued to arouse the suspicions of many, and it is certain that numerous investigations were conducted into his past and what information he may have had access to. In particular, the new ‘C’ in 1956 (and former Director-General of MI5), Sir Dick White, was very suspicious of Philby.160 Philby defected to the Soviet Union in 1963. As a direct consequence, MI5 reopened its investigations and made the startling conclusion that ‘MI5 and the FBI had grossly underestimated Soviet intelligence activities in the West.’161 This conclusion was wholly correct, but it had been reached over a decade too late. John Cairncross

Cairncross’ espionage, like Philby’s, was not proven until after the period under consideration in this study. However, it is necessary to review his atomic espionage because he was under suspicion by MI5 throughout the early 1950s, and although nothing could be proven, he had to resign from governmental employment as a result. Cairncross holds the dubious honour of being labelled the ‘first atomic spy.’162 After being identified as the notorious ‘fifth man,’ Cairncross published his ‘memoirs’ in the late 1990s.163 In his book he minimises his contribution to Soviet atomic espionage, in contrast to discussing his other acts of treachery; despite this, however, his value as a spy, and the atomic information he had access to, were hugely important to the Soviet Union. One of Cairncross’ first civil service positions was as private secretary to Lord Hankey, who at this stage held the lacklustre position of Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. Hankey was responsible for running a number of committees served by the Cabinet Office; of these the Scientific Advisory Committee was concerned with discussions about the new wonder weapon— the atomic bomb.164 Present at meetings of the committee in 1941 and 1942,

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Cairncross was privy to the initial discussions regarding the development of the atomic bomb, the most important of which was the conclusion that such a weapon was actually feasible.165 All such deliberations were faithfully transmitted to the Soviet Union.166 This information provided a useful companion to the wartime technical information provided by Fuchs and others. Cairncross’ information was so important at this time that Michael Smith has described it as ‘the Cambridge spy ring[s] most spectacular success.’167 Cairncross was to have further access to atomic information. After moving to Bletchley Park, the British codebreaking centre, where he betrayed the Enigma cipher to the Soviets, he was transferred to the Treasury at the end of European hostilities. In this position, Cairncross was involved in budgetary information on British defence spending and involvement in NATO. Within this remit included figures on British development of atomic, biological, and chemical weapons, not to mention some information on intelligence expenditure. In fact, as Cairncross informed his Soviet handler, his speciality was atomic energy.168 In this respect Cairncross almost certainly informed the Soviet Union of the 1947 British decision to build an atomic bomb.169 Following the defection of Burgess and Maclean, a search was made in mid-1951 of Burgess’ flat. Although the search had been conducted on behalf of MI5 by the ‘fourth man,’ Anthony Blunt, Blunt had failed to spot some notes that detailed confidential discussions in Whitehall at the start of the war. These notes, it transpired, had been written by Cairncross, and accordingly he fell under the suspicion of MI5. Although MI5 put Cairncross under surveillance, the authorities could find no unequivocal evidence of his espionage. On his second interrogation however, Cairncross admitted to carelessness with official papers and as a result ‘retired’ from the civil service, emigrating abroad.170 Soviet penetration of the various areas connected to the British and American atomic programmes was not solely limited to the individuals so far mentioned. VENONA evidence indicated that there had been additional Soviet agents at work in the wartime Manhattan Project. Although the true identities of many of these agents are still to be discovered, a few have been identified. Of these the most important was the young American physicist Ted Hall.171 Hall seems to have rivalled Fuchs in the amount and value of the material passed across. Further spies existed, albeit less important, including a Los Alamos technician, David Greenglass, and the infamous Rosenbergs. Fuchs, in his confessions to Perrin, had been convinced that there had been another Soviet source at Harwell, for the questions his Soviet handlers asked of him revealed an awareness of current projects. The material Fuchs mentioned

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indicated that the spy could not have been Pontecorvo.172 One of the major British atomic spies discussed in the VENONA traffic was code-named ‘Eric,’ or ‘K,’ though he is as yet unidentified. What is important is that this indicated further sources at large, yet there seems to have been little discussion until Philby’s defection about the Soviet Union’s large-scale penetration of the British government. The successes of Soviet atomic espionage were due to the large number of individuals who volunteered their services. In fact the Soviets appear to have had only one exception to this process—a GRU source deliberately inserted into the Manhattan Project, who then left to return to the Soviet Union.173 Almost all the Soviet sources of information on the British and American programmes were at large during the early cold war period. They did have some minor sources from the mid-1950s onwards, but these were far less influential than their earlier predecessors. British naval clerk John Vassall, for instance, who spied for the Soviet Union, had limited access to atomic information. He was not privy to anything more secret than the routine clearance-level material—thus, he did not have access to the more important information protected by the Aldermaston ‘Conifer’ and ‘Principal’ club code words.174 Given the absolute wealth of material the Soviet Union received, did the Soviet authorities believe everything? It is difficult to answer this question conclusively, but the evidence certainly suggests that they believed the majority of the information they were given. Initially, at least, there were doubts, though: For instance, an internal assessment of Philby’s material by the KGB concluded that it was effectively too good to be true.175 Similarly, the Soviet authorities harboured early concerns about Maclean’s sincerity.176 It is extremely difficult to quantify the benefit of all the atomic espionage information the Soviet Union received. Andrew and Mitrokhin have argued that Stalin knew more about the British bomb than either Attlee or Churchill, and it seems difficult to contradict this assertion.177 The various atomic traitors can be divided into two categories: those who provided scientific information, and those who provided a political (be it diplomatic or intelligence) context. Of these, the scientific defectors were far more usefully employed in the Soviet Union after their spying career had ended. So, for example, a scientist such as Pontecorvo was of far more use to the Soviet Union after his defection than either Maclean or Burgess were. In the postwar period, MI5’s counterespionage efforts were too limited concerning Soviet efforts; quite simply, too little was known. The result was that in all the cases discussed above, British intelligence could verify the allegations against an individual only once he had already committed his most important acts. The value of such agents to the Soviet Union was immense. These traitors

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were evenly spread out over the breadth of atomic matters, including the scientific, political, diplomatic, and intelligence fields. Soviet intelligence was therefore able to keep abreast of the major developments in the nuclear sphere, not only in Britain but in America also. It is difficult to quantify their value, but the information provided by Fuchs alone, for example, enhanced the Soviet weapons programme in a variety of ways. The impact of these agents therefore counters the arguments put forward by Andrew, Aldrich, and Kerr, because they were invaluable to the Soviet Union and ultimately had a bigger impact in the East than in the West. The potential intelligence exploitation of Soviet espionage efforts—by the time they were identified—was effectively too late to have been of use. There was little mention of espionage exploits in intelligence estimates of the Soviet programme, because such efforts had already ended. An appreciation of the breadth and depth of Soviet espionage, and of the possibility of more unidentified agents, was never utilised in the production of intelligence estimates. Indeed, such a conviction was not expressed until the Philby case reached a climax. What makes this situation more incredible is the clear lesson that should have been drawn from the Gouzenko case, that the Soviet intelligence services had made atomic espionage a priority. The failings of MI5 in this period—as the principal instrument in detecting and countering Soviet espionage—are inescapable. In an attempt to limit the damage to Anglo-American relations MI5 made repeated attempts to hide the real impact of each case. Although this subterfuge may have concealed the full extent of such agents from the public, the Americans were not fooled for very long, and indeed, perhaps their mistrust increased. Perhaps in the most disastrous illustration, the Fuchs case sealed an end to the successful negotiations about resuming both scientific and atomic intelligence collaboration. Would intelligence estimates have been different had more been known about Soviet penetration? The answer is resoundingly yes: Knowledge about Fuchs’ contributions, for instance, would undoubtedly have brought intelligence estimates for the first Soviet bomb forward by a factor of years, not just months. In some respects, therefore, the failure to take into account the cumulative effect of Soviet penetration was a catastrophe of some consequence, the blame for which must obviously lie with the Security Service. What is perhaps fortunate, therefore, is that throughout this period the British and American programmes for detecting Soviet nuclear tests were an unquestionable success, and these techniques provided unequivocal evidence of nuclear progress, a factor that the estimates of Soviet espionage were unable to hint at.

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Detecting the Soviet Bomb Weapons testing has for many years provided the most reliable window for observing Soviet military programmes. Until a weapons programme reaches the testing stage, intelligence has great difficulty determining its very existence, much less in getting data on its nature. After a weapon is deployed, many of its characteristics can be successfully concealed, but during the test phase a myriad of opportunities exist for obtaining detailed information on the nature and capability of the new system. Dr Herbert Scoville, Director of Scientific Intelligence, CIA1

As the nature of the target changes, so the nature of the intelligence required also has to change, and, accordingly, the means by which it is collected must adapt. In this respect, the Second World War produced both strategic and intelligence revolutions that were interrelated in complex ways. As the target became increasingly more scientific, so, therefore, did the means by which its development had to be monitored, for as Allen Dulles, the Director of Central Intelligence, commented, ‘The technical nature of many contemporary targets of intelligence has itself suggested or prompted the creation of the devices which can observe them.’2 This process became increasingly important as conventional modes of intelligence collection proved futile. As President Eisenhower’s Scientific Advisory Committee was to state, ‘To find out what the Russians are up to we depend almost entirely on physical manifestations of activity.’3 This, according to Professor R.V. Jones, was the true essence of scientific intelligence: ‘Science has two functions in intelligence. The first is to aid generally in collecting information, the second (scientific intelligence proper) is to study the applications of science to warfare by the enemy.’4 Following the Soviet Union’s first atomic test in August 1949, both the British and the American monitoring services expanded, reflecting the increasing importance attached to detecting future Soviet nuclear tests. An accurate awareness of Soviet proficiency in the nuclear field was crucial for three reasons: Firstly, it provided direct, unequivocal evidence of Soviet progress. Secondly, it provided information invaluable for the advancement of Western

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nuclear weapons programmes, in particular Britain’s. Thirdly, effective monitoring was the sine qua non of arms control; indeed, arguably it was the key facilitator of the moratorium successes of the late 1950s. Hence through these increased monitoring services, Britain was able to retain and strengthen its access to the American nuclear weapons programme. From unstable beginnings, the Western monitoring effort developed speedily and accurately, assisted by its constant usage in detecting British, American, and Soviet tests. In this latter respect, the necessity to monitor was explicitly stated: When experimental atomic weapons are exploded, it is essential to obtain as much information as possible, not only about the effects of the weapon, but also its efficiency in the use of fissile material. . . . Perhaps the most important method since it is direct instead of indirect, is the radiochemical and radiometric examination of the weapon remnants, to discover how much of the original material had undergone fission. These remnants, reduced to particles of various sizes, mostly extremely small, are present in the cloud which is characteristic of atomic explosions.5

Anglo-American collaboration was almost complete in this field, yet the problems and difficulties created by the limitations of the 1946 McMahon Act were continually present and required ingenious work-arounds. By 1950 both the United States and the Soviet Union had detonated an atomic bomb and were actively attempting to discover the correct path to the hydrogen bomb. Britain, by contrast, was still two years away from the testing of her first atomic bomb, and seven away from a hydrogen bomb. This factor—that Britain was continually playing catch-up—underlines just how important a proficient monitoring capability was to support its national programme. By 1958, however, Britain had indeed regained a level of parity, which was exhibited to great effect by the 1958 bilateral agreement with the Americans to resume the technical exchange of atomic information and in particular of warhead design. Joint detection capabilities also took a step forward: Discussions began in the summer of 1958 to introduce a moratorium on nuclear weapons testing, which was to be based at the outset on a successful worldwide detection system. According to one expert, ‘Intelligence for verification deals with precisely those matters that are [the] most carefully guarded secrets of sovereign states.’6 These detection techniques allowed insight into the most sensitive aspects of each national strategic programme and therefore were themselves very secret. Today the same techniques are employed to verify any potential breach of the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty. However, such techniques have long since been improved and are now somewhat taken for granted. Hence, as some American scholars have written, ‘From the comfortable remove of the late 1990s [when their account was written] it is almost impossible to appreciate the full

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import of the astonishing revolution wrought by these technical collection systems.’7 The Importance and Nature of Nuclear Weapons Tests

To comprehend why it was necessary to be able to detect any testing of a nuclear weapon, it is important to discuss why nations decide to test nuclear weapons in the first place. Most nuclear weapons tests, obviously, focus on the development and assessment of new designs. Until the 1990s—when tests could be replicated with the help of powerful lasers, hydrodynamic tests of the explosive system, and computation—nations had to physically explode a device to see whether it would work or not.8 By the time the Conference of Experts convened in Geneva on 1 July 1958, the Soviet Union had conducted a total of sixty-five tests.9 According to an officially released Russian classification of the purposes, these comprised: fifty-four tests dedicated to weapons development;10 four related to effects;11 three on research;12 one on weapons safety;13 and one as a troop exercise.14 In some respects this classification is somewhat artificial, as a test can fulfil more than one criterion: For instance, both the first test in August 1949, and the first thermonuclear test in August 1953, had the dual objectives of testing both design principles and the study of damage.15 Despite this qualification, the most important as far as the West was concerned were those tests dedicated to weapons development.16 What happens when a nuclear device is detonated? Within a fraction of a second after the ignition, the temperatures within the exploding device will have reached millions of degrees and the pressure will be many million atmospheres—in this respect the explosion replicates the conditions found in the centre of stars. In this first millionth of a second after detonation, the device will emit numerous different atoms. Because of the extreme pressure generated, the device’s residue—that is, its ingredients—will rapidly spread outward from the centre of the explosion. The extreme heat will then cause the gaseous fireball to rise; the fireball then spreads to form the resultant mushroom cloud.17 Such a violent event is difficult to conceal and produces a great variety of emissions that can be monitored. A nuclear device can be tested in various different modes, but up to 1958 the principal ones were groundburst, airburst, and underwater. For the testing of exactly the same device, each of these methods will produce a different fingerprint. Certain modes have advantages over others, depending on the nature of the nuclear test. Of the sixty-five tests the Soviet Union conducted, fifteen were groundbursts; two were underwater; and the remaining forty-eight were airbursts.18 Different monitoring techniques can be employed to detect these

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explosions. Until 1958 the principal techniques were through the monitoring of seismic waves, the collection of radioactive debris, electromagnetic signals, and acoustic waves. While it is important to emphasise the relative strengths and weaknesses of each technique, what is vital to remember is that they were never used in isolation; instead they should be seen as complementary components of a bigger system. Operation Hurricane

The detection of Joe-1 in late 1949 and its subsequent analysis provided a good indication that the British monitoring effort was proceeding along the correct path. These monitoring techniques were to be further tested with the detonation of Britain’s first atomic device—Operation Hurricane. The principal British figure in the world of radiochemistry was Dr Frank Morgan. In the early 1950s Morgan was a senior figure in radiochemistry at Harwell, and from there he was appointed Superintendent of Radiochemistry Research at the Atomic Weapons Research Establishment (AWRE), Aldermaston. Thus, while some radiochemical measurements were undertaken at Harwell, new purposebuilt advanced facilities for radiochemistry and mass spectrometry were constructed at AWRE. One of Morgan’s roles, as an ex-colleague has stated, was to be in charge of the radiochemical separation of products from weapons tests.19 It was planned at the outset that Morgan would collect and analyse debris samples from the air, the ground, and the sea. It was essential to gather as much experience and knowledge from Hurricane as possible, because it was realised that for the first time British scientists would be able to analyse data that they could then verify against known figures.20 Consequently Morgan’s experiments were regarded as ‘most urgent’ and accorded a high priority.21 By this stage British authorities had already decided that Hurricane would test a plutonium implosion fission device. Consequently one of Morgan’s main duties was to analyse the debris for plutonium levels, though a secondary one was to survey all elements with atomic numbers in the range of 70–150.22 Earlier a decision had been made to transport to the Monte Bello Islands (where Hurricane was to be detonated) radioactive samples from the chemical separation plant at Risley, as it was felt that these would ‘make the radiochemistry impossible for everybody else except ourselves.’23 What is not clear, however, is whether this decision to conceal the nature of the Hurricane test device was designed to deceive the Americans or the Russians, or indeed both. In this respect it is interesting to consider views regarding American participation in the test. Sir John Cockcroft, the director of Harwell, was quick to emphasise that the collection of dust should be kept separate from the issue of observation. Although he realised

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that the Americans regularly informed the British of their tests so that debris could be collected, it was important to recognise that ‘if we agree to this, it might provide the US with an opportunity of looking in on the trial.’24 By November 1951 a slight problem had emerged in the preparations regarding the radiochemical monitoring of Hurricane—debris had recently been collected from the second and third Soviet nuclear tests (see the section ‘Detecting Joe’ below), and Morgan was busy with the analyses of these samples. Although William Penney was concerned about Morgan’s heavy workload, he nevertheless remained adamant about the need to provide analyses of the Hurricane samples.25 Though this information was required to provide confirmation of the scientific principles that were to be tested, it was also clear that the information had other benefits. The British authorities had decided that the radioactive debris from Hurricane should be collected in two distinct ways— long-range airborne collection and rainwater collection. These different methods would reveal useful information about the nature of the debris at different stages following their injection into the atmosphere. These techniques were consequently considered ‘purely intelligence aspects.’26 How were these results to be achieved in principle? The rainwater samples were collected in Queensland, while airborne samples were collected by seven Lincoln aircraft some five hundred miles away from the test site.27 What was the significance of this latter distance? A map produced for a meeting of the JIC in 1948 reveals the photographic reconnaissance capabilities of British aircraft over Soviet-controlled territories (for a copy, see the illustrations section). In this context, what is significant is not that such reconnaissance took place but the proximity of the Soviet test site in relation to where British planes could reach. If the British planes were fitted with sampling equipment—and indeed by this date many were—it would be possible to be within five hundred miles of the Semipalatinsk test site if planes were based at Rawalpindi in Pakistan. Although the exact location of the test site was still not certain, the approximate location was, and sampling flights would certainly have been able to collect debris within this range.28 The radiochemical debris required for intelligence purposes was kept separate from that needed for device evaluation. While the latter was carried out by Penney’s scientists in the High Explosive Research group, the former was conducted by Harwell’s radiochemists. Harwell, like Welsh’s intelligence unit, was at this time still under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Supply. The sampling undertaken for intelligence purposes was therefore never integrated into the rest of the sampling operations for Hurricane.29 Samples from Hurricane took an inordinately long time to reach Harwell, a situation described by the Admiralty as a ‘terrible mess.’ The delay, of course,

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meant that the elements with a short half-life would have ceased to exist by the time they reached Harwell for analysis. Despite this and other specific problems, Operation Hurricane was nevertheless a resounding success. Britain entered the atomic club and the sampling methods provided excellent data. Penney’s results enabled an accurate calculation of the efficiency of the device, as well as the general effects of the explosion.30 At the same time, Harwell scientists were able to reconstruct the composition of Hurricane from an analysis of the long-range debris collected. Valuable data was were also obtained because the device was exploded in the hull of a ship, thus slightly under the level of the water, which had a noticeable effect on the debris composition.31 Consequently, by 1952 Britain was able to boast a sophisticated and effective detection capability. Strengthening the Anglo-American Partnership

While preparations were under way for the monitoring of Hurricane, the British received information indicating that the Soviet Union had detonated its second atomic device. These tidings came courtesy of the Americans, and the subsequent analyses and calculations were representative of the excellent Anglo-American relations during the 1950s in terms of collaboration on the detection of Soviet nuclear tests. The analysis of Joe-1 in 1949 had indicated to the Americans how useful collaboration with Britain was. Not only were sampling flights undertaken from Scotland and Ireland, but British scientists were actively involved in the radiochemical analyses of the collected debris. Following Joe-1 there had been plans for an Anglo-American meeting to discuss improving atomic intelligence relations. The two nations initially decided to postpone the meeting in favour of a conference on improving exchange of scientific information relating to weapons design; it was at this time, however, that news arrived about the confession of Klaus Fuchs, and this revelation all but ended any hopes for bilateral cooperation in the field of technical exchange. While this aspect of the relationship stalled once again, atomic intelligence relations continued to improve. The 1948 modus vivendi had established nine areas of Anglo-American collaboration. Of these, Area 5 referred to the detection of distant nuclear tests. In May 1950 the British and the Americans agreed that this area would be split into ‘technical’ and ‘intelligence’ divisions, thereby allowing for a fuller integration of atomic intelligence while also permitting a level of technical exchange, scientifically essential for analysis of the information gathered.32 One direct result of this was the US decision to inform Britain that a test series

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was about to take place, thus ensuring independent scientific evaluation of results. It was an interesting situation—although Britain had played an active role in the wartime Anglo-American programme, it was still to detonate its own atomic device, yet the Americans were extremely keen to receive British cooperation. The RAF and USAF had, in 1948, agreed to a treaty providing for the complete exchange of intelligence. Given that the collection of debris was one of the most valuable sources of information on Soviet tests, this relationship was to be very important. In early 1951 Hoyt Vandenburg, the USAF Chief of Staff, made a plea to the Department of Defense asking for permission for further atomic intelligence integration with the RAF.33 This move was indicative of the warming of intelligence relations between the relevant British and American bodies. Although the British had participated in the intelligence aspects of the 1948 US Sandstone test series, they were not given information on every American test. However, as General Nathan Twining, the USAF vice chief of staff, recognised, because the US authorities knew that Britain was flying monitoring flights, it was imperative that the United States provide Britain with information about US tests so that the British flights’ detection of fresh debris would not be incorrectly assigned to new Soviet tests. The Americans realised that it was contrary to their interests to withhold this data.34 One corollary of this acknowledgement was British involvement in analysing the debris from the January and February 1951 Ranger test series in the United States. Analysis of this debris was important: It enabled the British to further refine their analysis techniques—which were otherwise limited by the fact that Britain had not yet detonated its own nuclear device. Meteorological samples from the Ranger test were collected from flights originating in the United Kingdom. As the date of the explosion was known, it was hoped that Harwell scientists would obtain information firstly on the monitoring system itself, but that these data would provide an indication of the nature and efficiency of the US test. Subsequent analysis in fact revealed errors in the earlier American calculations of the Joe-1 debris.35 By late 1951 an American proposal had been forwarded recommending an amendment to the 1946 Atomic Energy Act. This revision was justified in that the ‘preparation of urgent intelligence estimates on hostile atomic energy capabilities may require cooperation with active allies which involves communication of information on the US atomic energy programme.’ Consequently, ‘the amendment should permit exchange of that information vital to preparation of intelligence estimates on hostile atomic energy capabilities.’36 Although the main consideration for a revision of the act was based on information vital for estimates of the Soviet Union’s plutonium output—the Nomination

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programme (see Chapter 6)—it was also necessary to allow some further collaboration in the analysis of Soviet debris. In October 1951 Congress passed this amendment to the act.37 Three months later, in January 1952, Prime Minister Winston Churchill visited Washington, taking the opportunity to lead various discussions on the status of AngloAmerican atomic intelligence collaboration. These talks evidently struck a note with President Truman, who ‘thought it was particularly important to cooperate in trying to find out what the Russians were doing.’38 One consequence of these discussions was the debate back in Britain regarding the presence of US observers at Hurricane. Detecting Joe

A further event that convinced many Americans that integration should be reached with Britain was the joint analyses of debris from the recent Soviet nuclear tests. On 24 September 1951 the Soviet Union detonated its second nuclear device at the Semipalatinsk test range. Joe-2, as it was known in the West (RDS-2 in the Soviet Union), was another plutonium fission device, but in comparison to Joe-1, it employed a far more sophisticated technique that conserved the amount of raw material needed to produce a comparable explosion. It was exploded on a tower with a yield of approximately 38 kilotons.39 Within a short time of Joe-2’s detonation, an acoustic signal was received at various stations of the American Atomic Energy Detection System (AEDS) network. This signal enabled an approximate location to be identified, and it was confidently concluded that the originating explosion was at the Semipalatinsk test site. This assumption had been reached as the signal was comparable to that received from the 1951 Greenhouse test series at Eniwetok.40 Once the signal had been confirmed, the most important information was derived from an analysis of the actual debris from the Soviet test. At some stage in late September 1951, the Americans informed the British of the Soviet test. The purpose of this communiqué was clear: ‘We have been asked by the Americans to provide some data which they were not able to obtain.’ The ‘data’ took the form of the collection of airborne debris, and although by early October the radioactive cloud had not yet reached the British Isles, plans had been made for its subsequent collection by the RAF.41 The British code-named the Soviet test ‘Prayer,’ and the surveillance effort was, like that of Joe-1, an unquestionable success. The major contributing factor to this achievement was the fact that the British were able to complement the Americans in their monitoring effort, an involvement that fulfilled British concerns about being able to pull their weight.42 Under Frank Morgan, a team

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of Harwell scientists also conducted analysis; importantly, this analysis was not only of debris collected by the RAF, but also of samples collected by the Americans. In fact, the primary filter used for analysis was one donated by the Americans.43 Exchange of information on the earlier US Ranger tests had enabled British scientists to identify which debris in the sample came from which originating detonation.44 Analysis of the debris was not a quick procedure at this time, as a JIC report of February 1952 made clear.45 Despite this drawback, however, radiochemical analyses were very informative. American scientists concluded that the second Soviet bomb was a plutonium fission device, and that, importantly, ‘the efficiency of utilisation of the plutonium was greater than that of the first explosion.’46 This view was complemented by the findings of the British scientists.47 The evidence also suggested that the device had been tested on the ground.48 Subsequent analysis of the debris also provided a good indication of the originating date of the explosion, which was used to plot a diagram of the flight path of the radioactive cloud.49 Less than a month after the testing of Joe-2, another signal was received that indicated that the Soviet Union had conducted its third nuclear test. Joe-3 (RDS-3 in the Soviet Union) was detonated on 18 October 1951 and was important for two reasons: It was the first air-dropped Soviet bomb and it was the first to employ uranium as its fissionable ingredient. The first evidence of Joe-3 was received, as became the norm, by acoustic signals. It was quickly and correctly identified that these signals had again originated from the region of the Semipalatinsk site. The RAF once more collected samples over the British Isles, and the monitoring and analysis project were code-named ‘Pearl.’ Although initial collected samples did not produce conclusive results, subsequent filters provided valuable information.50 They revealed additional details on the movement of debris through the atmosphere: that the cloud took approximately one week to travel from the test site in Kazakhstan to the United Kingdom.51 In fact, samples collected of Pearl also contained evidence of the US test of 19 November 1951, code-named ‘Pressure’ by the British, and once more it was necessary to separate the information from each.52 Preparations under way in Australia for Hurricane also ensured good data on Pearl—collected rainwater samples revealed a higher-than-normal radioactive content. This data also provided useful information on the atmosphere and debris composition in the Southern Hemisphere.53 Subsequent analysis of the debris indicated that the device had employed a composite core of uranium235 and plutonium, a significant conclusion because it revealed Soviet profi-

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ciency in uranium-fabrication techniques. The evidence also suggested that the bomb had been exploded in the air.54 The result of this information was such that by 1952 Eric Welsh could confidently state, ‘I can say definitely that to arrange an atomic explosion in such a manner as not to be detectable by our present technique would be difficult in the extreme if not impossible.’55 Despite such assured statements, confidence in the conclusions reached by analyses of such tests was not as high.56 Although the British were informed of forthcoming US test series, they were not always invited to participate.57 Despite this disadvantage, routine airborne debris-collecting flights surreptitiously did collect debris from US tests. In 1952 this detail had important connotations, as the United States tested the world’s first thermonuclear device. Sampling flights were often flown from both Gibraltar and Scotland and were able to collect good samples from both Soviet and American tests.58 One of the small group of Harwell scientists who were involved in the analysis of foreign debris for intelligence purposes was Greg Marley. By mid-1952 the British were aware that the forthcoming Ivy series of US nuclear tests, planned for November 1952, would involve a new technique. This test, code-named ‘Reduction’ by the British (Ivy ‘Mike’ to the Americans), would utilise tritium. Plans were made to collect samples from the test, though it was realised, as Marley informed Welsh, that because samples from close range could not be obtained, the long-range samples would reveal only the presence of tritium and not whether the test had been a success or not.59 Part of the problem was that, given the relative gulf between the American and British weapons programmes, the scientific implications of the presence of tritium could not be fully understood. Tritium, a heavy form of hydrogen, is naturally present in the atmosphere but only in minute quantities and so is very rare. Measurements in late 1952 revealed that the tritium content of the air had increased significantly and, according to some US scientists, this increased presence was a direct consequence of the testing of an American hydrogen bomb.60 It is unclear what impact this may have had on Britain’s own nuclear weapons programme, but its importance was perhaps greatest in that British scientists were now aware that the detection of increased tritium content in the atmosphere could be used to discern evidence of a thermonuclear explosion. In 1953 the Soviet Union exploded a device employing thermonuclear reactions. Following the Soviet Union’s two tests in late 1951, the British and Americans had detected nothing for more than a year; this absence had led some prominent Americans to question the abilities of the monitoring system and wonder whether further Soviet tests had remained undetected.61 The Russians,

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however, unlike the Americans, were far more stringent in the number of tests they conducted. Yet in August 1953 they embarked on their largest test series to date, a month-long programme that comprised five tests. The first and most important test in the series was Joe-4 (RDS-6s), with a yield of 400 kilotons, or some twenty-six times the size of the Hiroshima bomb. At this point only the American devices ‘Mike’ (10.4 megatons) and ‘King’ (500 kilotons), both detonated in the autumn of 1952, had exceeded this yield. The enormity of the Joe-4 explosion created signals of an immense magnitude: The acoustic wave was detectable all over the Earth, and it also created very large seismic waves. These signals enabled the Western powers to reach the conclusion that, like previous tests, it too had been detonated at the usual test site in Semipalatinsk.62 In fact, the acoustic waves from previous tests had suggested only a general area. The increased knowledge of seismology and the larger yield from Joe-4 provided for the first time very clear evidence of the test site.63 This factor indicates that the claims made in the recent book Into Tibet—that American detection devices were deployed to monitor Semipalatinsk in the late 1940s—are wholly inaccurate.64 The Americans collected debris in the air over Japan and America, the Canadians collected some over Canada and out at sea, and the British retrieved samples over the United Kingdom. In Britain the test was code-named ‘Eligible.’ Once more debris collected by the Americans was passed to Harwell radiochemists; of these, Filter E3 contained the most useful samples.65 This specimen had been collected ten days after the burst—therefore on 22 August 1953.66 It was found to contain Li-6, an isotope of lithium, which implied that thermonuclear reactions had occurred. The possibility of a thermonuclear reaction was further confirmed by the production of 14 MeV neutrons— indicating that increased fission had taken place and thus providing evidence for the very large yield of the device.67 The Li-6 nuclear reaction also creates beryllium-7 (Be-7), which also was discovered in the samples.68 Despite these indications of a thermonuclear reaction it was concluded that the device was a ‘hybrid’—that is, it was a boosted device rather than a fullfledged thermonuclear device. How was this assumption reached? Measurements in Canada revealed a high concentration of tritium, and this, it was felt, indicated evidence of a boosted fission device. Other information included the distribution of fission products, the evidence of light elements, and the strength of the explosion.69 Such information was crucial—for it provided direct and unequivocal evidence that the Soviet Union had attained the next stage of nuclear proficiency. What was also significant was the fact that American

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(and in particular British) scientists were not only were in a position to monitor such a test but could accurately unravel its ingredients and composition. In fact, the evidence of this test was used in early 1954 by William Penney as justification for British development of a hydrogen bomb.70 Operation Totem

Following the successes of Hurricane, the British made plans to conduct a second nuclear test, this time a series of two explosions at Woomera in south Australia called Operation Totem (September–October 1953). Totem was designed to further test scientific principles, but it was also important for testing additional monitoring techniques.71 Over June and July 1953, a small team of British radiochemists had travelled to the United States to learn something of the new American techniques for monitoring. One result of this trip was that analysis, instead of concentrating on fission products for interpretation, would focus on identification of the nuclear device’s core interior, the materials in the tamper, and transmutation products. Analysis could be assisted by using a mass spectrometer specifically designed to handle small samples.72 The United States was also invited to collect samples from the Totem clouds, using B29 aircraft at a distance of more than four hundred miles.73 US intelligence also promised to use these new techniques to analyse the debris. The aims of the British sampling mission reflected the new techniques shown to them by the Americans. For independent analysis of the success of these techniques, it was ‘of considerable importance to devise [the] means whereby good active samples may be obtained.’74 Hence, samples were required from both the path of the cloud and, for the first time, the cloud itself. For the latter the British had intended to use a pilotless Jindivik aircraft, but the vehicle had not been ready in time.75 A further new technique to be tested at Totem was a measurement of the electromagnetic pulse (EMP) generated by a nuclear explosion. Although the Americans had conducted monitoring experiments on EMPs, under the McMahon Act they could not provide their results to the British; instead, as Cockcroft discussed, they ‘strongly recommended it to our attention.’ The British believed they needed to be able to show the development of the electromagnetic radiation because it would reveal the course of the explosion.76 Overall the monitoring aspects of Totem were very successful and were to stand Britain in good stead the following year with the detection of further American and Russian tests.

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By the end of 1953 Anglo-American relations concerning the detection of Soviet weapons tests were good. However, analysis of Soviet debris was still hindered by the limitations of the McMahon Act. In December 1953 Prime Minister Winston Churchill met President Eisenhower in what became known as the Bermuda Conference. One of the key discussions centred on attempting to rectify the ‘US inability or unwillingness to discuss freely with us intelligence about Russian atomic weapons development.’77 This situation arose primarily because although there was collaboration in the sharing of the debris, there was not always joint analysis of it. For example, British, American, and Canadian scientists had all found different amounts of uranium-237 in the debris from Joe-5 (‘Racket’ in the United Kingdom).78 In mid-1953, in an attempt to improve collaboration in the analysis of debris, both Cockcroft and Welsh had flown to the United States—under the authorisation of the British Chiefs of Staff—to meet CIA director Allen Dulles. In particular Cockcroft and Welsh had attempted to tie in such analysis with the already successful Anglo-American monitoring of Soviet plutonium output (by this time referred to as the Music Programme; see Chapter 6). Dulles had been prepared to provide further information but, as he stated, was limited by the excesses of the McMahon Act. Consequently, Cockcroft had recommended that Lord Cherwell, the Paymaster General, attempt to ‘pursue the question of a further amendment to the Act to permit full collaboration which may be possible under that Amendment.’79 The implications of such a plea were the discussions Cherwell had with various Americans in late 1953, culminating in those at Bermuda in December. One of the main arguments Cherwell advocated for rejuvenating the AngloAmerican technical relationship was eloquently stated in a memo to Churchill just days before the conference: I endeavoured to convince them in Washington that we had independently discovered most of the vital secrets, just as apparently as the Russians have done. It would therefore be a great pity to jeopardise the prospects we might have of discovering what the Russians were doing for fear we should tell one another something which we both already knew. . . . The whole basis of the McMahon Act has been destroyed by the discovery that the Russians know so much about atomic weapons and how to make them. . . . It is surely quite wrong to forego the advantage of collaboration on these vital intelligence questions in the hope of preventing a leakage of information to them.80

The American stance had been largely determined by the long-term presence of the then AEC Chairman Admiral Lewis Strauss. Strauss, a loyal

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McCarthyite and strict Anglophobe, had repeatedly denied the British further access to American atomic secrets. This situation began to change only with the election of Eisenhower to the presidency, and this about-turn may have been based on Eisenhower’s excellent personal relationship with Churchill. Eisenhower, it appears, had long condemned the McMahon Act, calling it ‘one of the most deplorable incidents in American history of which [I] personally felt ashamed.’81 Similarly, in a meeting of the National Security Council on 3 December, Eisenhower asked Strauss why such a restriction was still necessary, adding ‘with some heat that he and others around the table had had a good deal of experience in dealing with allies, and that you had to start out to treat them as though they were allies.’ At this suggestion, according to the minutes, Strauss ‘shuddered.’82 At Bermuda, therefore, when the British and American delegations met a few days later, a note was passed from Churchill to Eisenhower asking for an expansion of the intelligence relationship and basing its argument along the lines that Cherwell had stated.83 Discussions appear to have gone well. Eisenhower was ‘surprised’ that the interpretation of intelligence on Soviet nuclear weapons was ‘hampered.’84 Indeed, ‘the President agrees that discussion of interpretation of intelligence data concerning Russian bombs is important and urgent.’85 A few days into the conference, Cherwell again wrote to Churchill, commenting that ‘the Americans have now agreed to exchange information with us on effects of atomic bomb explosions. . . . The intelligence matters which we discussed there are also, it seems, going well.’86 In fact, discussions went so favourably that the Americans gave assurances that collaboration would improve.87 A month later, in January 1954, eminent physicist Hans Bethe (who had been the chief American scientist involved in the analysis of Joe-4) stated that he had reached the conclusion ‘on the desirability of an interchange of information with the British.’88 Aconite, Totsk, and the McMahon Act

The year 1954 was significant for the atomic test monitoring effort. The Western powers attempted to monitor the US Castle series, and the first nonSemipalatinsk Soviet nuclear test was successfully detected; this year also saw important revisions to the McMahon Act that had important connotations for the exchange of intelligence on the monitoring of Soviet nuclear tests. One corollary of the Bermuda discussions was that the Americans had informed Britain of their forthcoming Castle test series, the monitoring effort of which was code-named Aconite. The British were provided with facilities at

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Kwajalein (an island in the Marshalls), close to the test site; the American authorities had approved this accommodation, as the Americans had been offered a similar provision for the earlier Totem trial.89 Aconite demonstrated to Frank Morgan that the most important factor in the radiochemical determination of the efficiency of a nuclear device was an analysis of the half-lives of various elements, and that these could very accurately convey information on the type of fission involved. In particular it was those elements with short half-lives that were important—those that decayed within a few days of the detonation. Morgan concluded, therefore, that it was essential that samples be collected as soon as possible after the test. Because earlier evidence had revealed that debris took approximately a week to reach the United Kingdom, it was also essential that from then on debris collected by the Americans be given to the British for analysis).90 This factor was to have important connotations for later analysis, and before any additional Soviet tests were conducted, the Anglo-American relationship was further strengthened by a revision to the McMahon Act. In June 1954 Churchill and Cherwell again visited Washington in an attempt to strengthen the Anglo-American exchange of intelligence information. Once more both were given assurances, considered by the British to be ‘satisfactory,’ that changes were in progress.91 Although the amended Atomic Energy Act did not come into being until 30 August 1954, details of how it related to Anglo-American intelligence relations had already been provided to the British.92 Though the revisions did not go as far as the British might have hoped— they still stopped far short of full technical collaboration—the modifications do appear to have been well received. In effect the new act continued the provisions laid down by Area 5 of the 1948 modus vivendi on the detection of distant nuclear explosions.93 However, in clause 144(b)(3), the act referred to cooperation in ‘the evaluation of the capabilities of potential enemies in the employment of atomic weapons.’94 In Cockcroft’s view, therefore, cooperation ‘should become more effective by taking advantage of [this] Clause.’95 The new relationship was to be tried almost immediately with the next Soviet test. Until this point every Soviet nuclear detonation had occurred at the Semipalatinsk test site in Kazakhstan (indeed, as is discussed below, Western monitoring stations were centred on this locale). However, in September 1954 the Soviet Union tested an atomic artillery shell in Totsk, a military battlefield range in Russia. The Totsk detonation was part of a troop exercise, to see how nuclear weapons would impact battlefield strategy. It had a yield of approximately 40 kilotons and was fired from a cannon. The device itself was another test of the RDS-3 warhead (also known as Joe-3 or Pearl—the 1951 device).96

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The Totsk device was the eighth Soviet nuclear test detected in the West. Initial acoustic evidence indicated that the test had been conducted in the region of Kuibyshev.97 Preliminary analysis revealed just how accurate the monitoring system had become by this point: The test ‘was undoubtedly a demonstration explosion. It was probably a plutonium weapon, unboosted, and exploded on a tower with an energy release equivalent to that of some 40,000 tons of high explosive.’98 The British initially assumed that the test had been ‘concerned with military weapons for use in the field,’ though it is unclear how exactly this conclusion was reached.99 By the following July, information had reached the Americans concerning the precise details of the test, courtesy of a CIA ‘source.’ Thus it was known that the test had occurred in Totsk and that it had involved troop exercises in which an atomic weapon had been utilised.100 This data provided useful information about how the Soviet Union might use tactical atomic weapons in an atomic war. The Anglo-American Monitoring Network

On 15 June 1955, another atomic agreement was signed between the United States and Britain (and a separate one between the United States and Canada). Although this agreement was officially termed ‘Co-operation Regarding Atomic Information for Mutual Defence Purposes,’ it included a specific term of reference relating to intelligence, which had been inserted under the instigation of AFOAT-1—the US Air Force agency responsible for the monitoring programme. This provision included the ‘exchange of data on Soviet nuclear tests.’ In more general terms this agreement provided for the exchange of all nuclear test data, though once more the exchange was limited by the restrictions of the revised 1954 Atomic Energy Act.101 In practice, therefore, this new agreement meant collaboration in terms of ‘acoustic, seismic, electromagnetic, and other geophysical data from nuclear explosions, provided they reveal only general characteristics of weapons or devices.’102 However, the question remains: Why was British inclusion so important to the Americans in the analysis of the Soviet programme if Britain was unable to contribute to the most advanced scientific principles of nuclear weaponry? The key to detecting Soviet tests lay in the locations of the stations involved. Britain, therefore, through the geographic proximity of several Commonwealth nations to the Soviet Union, could offer the US monitoring effort key locations. This aspect was patently clear in the Americans’ decision: ‘A major benefit of the agreement between the United States and the United Kingdom was the latter’s contribution to the AEDS.’103

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Seemingly the first station to be operated by the British was one in Germany, though its precise location is unknown. This station dates to approximately 1948, and although it was not directed toward any particular site— primarily because it was not known at that point where a test might take place—it was aligned in the general direction of the USSR. At this German station the British had both microbarographs (effectively microphones that can pick up and record very low frequencies) and underground seismological equipment. It is unclear how effective these tools were or how long they remained in Germany.104 One of the shortest-lived and earliest American monitoring stations was in Iran, where a primitive acoustic array had been placed alongside a long gateless wall of the shah’s palace.105 As head of British atomic intelligence, Eric Welsh was placed in charge of the operational aspects of the monitoring programme.106 During Welsh’s tenure, his Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit (AEIU) had both an overt and a covert existence. Welsh in effect had two masters: one in the Directorate of Atomic Energy in the Ministry of Supply, and one in SIS, where he was directly answerable to ‘C.’ Because the monitoring stations were almost all located abroad, the running of them became an SIS operation. In 1954 the AEIU was reorganised into two separate entities: the new Technical Research Unit (TRU) and the existing Technical Atomic Liaison (TAL). The TRU was the overt arm, located in the Ministry of Defence (MoD); whereas TAL was the covert one, located deep within SIS. Therefore, throughout this period ‘C’ and SIS, through TAL, were in control of the foreign monitoring stations.107 Britain operated a number of detection stations, all located in various parts of the Commonwealth, and all subsidised by the Americans, who relied on the stations to transmit daily telegraphic reports to the US Coast and Geodetic Survey, and thence to AFOAT-1. Britain’s primary contribution was its station in Pakistan, code-named Stowage. The seismic station was located near the Hindu Kush mountain range that runs near the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan. More specifically it was on the edge of the Indus River, between Peshawar and Labal.108 According to one former member of the TRU, the Pakistan station was the most important in the Anglo-American network, primarily because it was the closest to Semipalatinsk and as such was always the first to receive the signal from a test. This view has been corroborated by Dr Carl Romney, a seismologist attached to AFOAT-1 who became assistant technical director in the Air Force Technical Applications Center (AFTAC), the coordinating body for the US monitoring effort.109 In 1955 another seismic station became operational, in Alice Springs, Australia.110 In subsequent years additional seismic stations were located at Eskdalemuir in Scotland, at Waramunga

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in Australia, in southern India, and in northern Canada—though it is unclear when exactly these stations were in operation.111 In addition to the seismic stations, Britain ran a network of acoustic stations. Before Eskdalemuir became the site for a seismic array, it had been the location of an acoustic one. The acoustic station became operational in November 1952 and was code-named Quota. Penney considered the station particularly useful because it provided valuable data on the calculation of the yield of distant nuclear tests.112 Although operated by Britons, from 1954 Quota was reequipped with American instrumentation, setting the trend for the other British acoustic stations.113 Also in 1954 the station was apparently relocated from Scotland to Thetford, as it was felt the new site was ‘acoustically superior’; this may have had something to do with the constant noise provided by local sheep in Scotland.114 In addition to Quota, Britain operated a further two acoustic stations, code-named Beaver and Tagday. Both of these stations were located close to Semipalatinsk, though it is unclear where exactly.115 It is probable, however, given that both were located within the British Commonwealth, that at least one was in Pakistan. It is unclear whether Britain operated any electromagnetic stations. However, the British did operate several important locations for debris collection that complemented the flights flown from Scotland, Ireland, and Gibraltar. Britain also flew debris-collection flights from Australia, and although many of these missions were in fact concerned with the Music Programme, they also picked up samples from Soviet tests at Semipalatinsk. Unlike the Americans, the British did not fly regular debris-collecting flights, but did so only for particular tests. In addition, Britain operated a network of ground stations that collected debris once it had settled back to earth. By 1950 these foreign stations were collecting four filters’ worth of material a day—thereby indicating just how much of a full-time occupation radiochemical analysis was.116 Initially these forays involved the gathering of debris on filters and in rainwater—collected in special tanks. There were numerous rainwater collecting stations in the United Kingdom itself, the two most important of which were in Milford Haven and Chilton, as these were sampled on a daily basis and so could provide up-to-date information.117 There were also ground-collection stations operated at various locations in Australia. These locations were directed by the eminent Australian scientist Ernest Titterton, who had originally been part of the British mission to Los Alamos during the war. These stations employed a variety of techniques, including the operation of sticky-filter apparatus to collect debris samples.118

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Alongside the British monitoring network, the United States operated a large number of stations, and there appears to have been almost total collaboration in the sharing of data.119 From the mid-1950s, both American and British seismic and acoustic stations utilised the same technology, which enabled a ‘standardisation of analysis.’120 By 1955 seismic stations were operating in Thule in Greenland, Camp King in Germany, and Encampment in Wyoming.121 In 1957 the Camp King station was relocated to Sonseca in Spain, while the Thule site was closed down. From 1952 a mobile seismic station was also utilised, code-named Project Rockpile, and operated primarily in Korea.122 Acoustic stations were operated in Ankara in Turkey (code-named Slipstream), at Clark Air Force Base (AFB) in the Philippines (Fish Hawk), at Thule in Greenland (Polka Dot), and at two locations in Japan.123 Regular sampling missions were flown from Yokota AFB in Japan and Eielson AFB in Alaska. Less frequent special missions were also flown from Burtonwood in England and McClellan AFB in California.124 Despite initial sporadic collection by the Naval Research Laboratory, from 1954 rainwater samples were also obtained regularly.125 By this stage, therefore, most stations were operated from within the realms of US military bases; by contrast, more recent AEDS stations have operated from US embassies.126 By the time of the Geneva Conference, in summer 1958, the AngloAmerican monitoring network had reduced slightly in size but was concentrated in permanent locations around the periphery of the Soviet Union. Nine acoustic stations were operating—located in the Philippines, Alaska, Greenland, Britain, Germany, Turkey, Eritrea, and two spots in Japan. In addition to the acoustic stations, there were eight seismic stations, located in Australia, Alaska, Spain, Turkey, Korea, and three places in the United States. There were eight electromagnetic stations, positioned in Alaska, Japan, Turkey, Germany, Iran, the Shemya Isles in the Bering Sea, and two places in the United States. Finally, flights were flown from Japan, Alaska, and the United Kingdom.127 A New Test Site and Joe-19

Two events in 1955 provided good evidence of how advanced the techniques involved in the detection of Soviet nuclear tests had become. Firstly, in September the Soviet Union began testing at what was known as the Northern Test Site—the Arctic island of Novaya Zemlya. Secondly, in November the Soviets detonated their first two-stage thermonuclear device. By 1955 enough Soviet tests had been detected to provide some indication of when the next series might begin. For instance, experience had shown that

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in the previous two years there had been a Soviet series of tests in the autumn. More tangible indications were usually evident in the form of an increased interest and activity in the Semipalatinsk region, in particular radio traffic, which could be picked up by Britain’s Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ) and America’s National Security Agency (NSA).128 Of the tests in the series, the second, a larger-yield variant of the RDS-9, was detected at two American and two British stations. Despite these signals, the British were reluctant to assert that this was a definite nuclear test because of ‘the absence of what we always hitherto regarded as the final indications of the intention to start a series’; this absence, it was felt, was ‘particularly disturbing.’129 It is unclear what such indications were, but what is really important here is that this comment provides evidence that assumptions were entering into the analysis process. The ‘indications’ that had been previously noticed before other tests were missing, and this omission created doubts as to the nature of the recorded signals, even when an explosion had been registered at various locations. Following this test there was a gap of a month before the next Soviet trial. On 21 September 1955 the Soviet Union detonated another low-yield version (3.5 kilotons) of the RDS-9 torpedo charge, this time aboard a barge in the vicinity of Novaya Zemlya. Norway was one of the nearest countries to the new test site and was to prove to be invaluable in the Anglo-American monitoring network. The first plans to locate a detection station in Norway had begun in 1951. This station never materialised, however, and at the time of the Soviet test in September 1955, a fresh inspection was being conducted by a team of American seismologists to locate a suitable site.130 The fact that the dates coincide is a case of chance as opposed to forward planning—Norway was seen as the ideal location for a station to work with those in Germany and Turkey so as to provide the third point needed for accurate triangulation. Following the September test, it became of paramount importance to install a station in Norway. The survey had revealed that the terrain would be poor for a seismic station but suitable for an electromagnetic one, and in 1958 the first electromagnetic monitoring station in Norway became operational.131 The Norwegian intelligence service was also able to receive Soviet communications from the site and so ‘became expert at discovering the radio procedures that came into use in the run-up to a nuclear detonation.’132 In addition, the Norwegians patrolled the seas around Novaya Zemlya to collect seawater samples. Whereas the operation of the monitoring stations was an American responsibility, the collection of sea and other water samples was primarily a British one.133 The initial indications of this first detonation at Novaya Zemlya (Joe-17) arrived quickly at both British and American monitoring stations. The test had

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generated large seismic signals but very low acoustic ones—a phenomenon similar to the 1946 American Bikini Baker shot, the first underwater test of a nuclear device. As a result, the Americans confidently concluded that the Soviet test had occurred in shallow water, for analysis of the signals indicated the explosion to have originated offshore of Krasino on Novaya Zemlya.134 In fact, the analysis had been precise—it had been detonated in Chernaya Bay, the region offshore from Krasino.135 On 21 September 1955, the same day that Joe17 was tested in Novaya Zemlya, the Soviet Union also detonated a device at Semipalatinsk, though it appears that this explosion was a failure, given its almost negligible yield. Following these two events, there was another delay until November, when the Soviet Union exploded two more devices at Semipalatinsk. The first of these tests was on the sixth and involved an air-dropped device utilising thermonuclear reactions. According to David Holloway, this device was a backup (in case the later trial failed) and tested a variation of the layer-cake Soviet thermonuclear design.136 The large explosion (250 kilotons) produced a signal of each type. The first evidence of a test was registered at the Pakistan station, and this signal was confirmed by the collection of airborne debris by the Americans.137 Acoustic data, taken in addition to the seismic data, indicated a yield of 200 kilotons.138 Radiochemical analysis suggested that the device was a weaponised version of the 1953 boosted device.139 Joe-18, as this explosion became known, was the second-largest Soviet test yet. Joe-19, by comparison, was a relative monster. It was detonated on 22 November 1955 and was an air-burst explosion with a yield of 1.6 megatons— more than one hundred times the force of the Hiroshima bomb.140 RDS-37, as it was known in the Soviet Union, marked a triumphant moment for the Soviet weapons programme, as it was the first test of a two-stage thermonuclear device, and it was also a weaponised version. In terms of the monitoring aspects, the device was far bigger than any Soviet test that had been detected so far, and the fact that it was the highest exploded, together with the fact that it was two-stage, meant that it displayed different characteristics. The first signal received from the detonation was at the British station in Pakistan, and it was quickly followed by receipt of signals at all the other British and American stations. This created some surprise, as the signal was unlike any that had been received so far. The uncharacteristic signal led Sir Frederick Brundrett, the Chief Scientific Adviser in the MoD, to question whether in fact it had been a nuclear explosion at all. As a result, Britain, America, and Canada undertook sampling missions for verification.141 Acoustic data indicated the yield to be 1.7 megatons.142 Radiochemical analysis confirmed that

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the test had been of ‘a weapon carried in an aircraft rather than a device. It was probably a two-stage thermonuclear weapon.’ The weapon, it was felt, was similar to the American one tested in the 1954 Castle series shot Bravo. The intelligence agencies took this evidence as positive affirmation that the United States was eighteen months ahead of the Soviet Union.143 Soviet Test Series, 1956 and 1957

The year 1956 was another important one for both the Soviet weapons programme and, by implication, the Western monitoring network. Early in February 1956 the Soviet Union tested an R-5M ballistic missile at a new site at Kapustin Yar; this was the first test of a Soviet missile with a nuclear warhead.144 Despite its nominal yield (0.3 kilotons), a record of the test must have been received because a subsequent JIC assessment of the Soviet nuclear programme mentions the test and its location.145 Following the missile launch, there were two relatively minor tests at Semipalatinsk the next month. After these, there was a gap until a series of five tests beginning in August 1956 and lasting until September. By the time the second of these tests was detected— a huge, 900-kiloton thermonuclear device detonated on 30 August—the British had concluded that this was the start of another substantial test series.146 In January 1957 the Soviet Union launched its second nuclear-tipped ballistic missile. This weapon, unlike the first, was detonated high above the Earth at a height of 10 kilometers.147 The signal from the test was registered at six acoustic stations but not at any seismic stations. Consequently, although the evidence indicated that the explosion had been in the vicinity of Kapustin Yar, the lack of seismic data meant that in fact it could have occurred anywhere within a three-hundred-mile radius. Measurements indicated the yield to be between 1 and 15 kilotons—in fact, it had been 10 kilotons.148 Neither the British nor the Americans at this stage had conducted any high-altitude tests, despite American plans to do so. Initially AFOAT-1 had filed a request for a high-altitude test at Operation Redwing (1956), though this had been deferred to Operation Hardtack in 1958. The aim of the test was simple—to provide ‘high altitude shot calibration data for the AFOAT-1 long range detection system.’149 Once more this statement of purpose underlines the extent to which a proportion of testing was specifically aimed at developing intelligence systems. Following the January ballistic missile test there was a pause until the next Soviet test series in March and April 1957. There was another gap until the routine autumn test series, lasting from August to October 1957. During this series, tests were conducted at the Semipalatinsk site and once more at Novaya

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Zemlya (for the first time since 1955). The significance of this series was the emergence of a pattern in the tests—those with smaller yield were at Semipalatinsk, whereas those with larger-megaton yields were at the Arctic site. This evidence led the British to conclude that Semipalatinsk was no longer suitable for large-yield tests.150 Once more these tests registered both acoustic and seismic signals at the British and American monitoring stations.151 The Grapple Series

By 1956 concern had been growing worldwide over the fallout from nuclear weapons tests. In particular, this unease had been fuelled by the 1954 American Bravo test, which had deposited radioactive debris over a Japanese fishing boat and some unfortunate Marshall Islanders. One result was renewed calls for a nuclear test ban. To the British it therefore became paramount to squeeze in as many tests as possible before such a ban took force; in particular it was essential to conduct the full-scale high-yield thermonuclear Grapple series. An integral component of the Grapple trials was, of course, the monitoring programme—not only was it useful for providing data that could be used in the analysis of foreign tests, but to analyse the performance of the British tests it was crucial. The Grapple tests also aimed to use Valiant bombers to measure thermal and gamma rays—components of the electromagnetic system.152 Special Canberra jet aircraft were used for ‘sniffing’ the Grapple mushroom clouds, and this mission was known as Operation Falcon.153 The Canberra aircraft were fitted out with special modifications, including turning the wing fuel tanks into collection units for radioactive samples. The first Grapple series was more of a success in terms of the monitoring programme than it was scientifically.154 Good measurements had revealed the yield, and, importantly, for the first time in a British test, radiation implosion had occurred, though the yield had been less than expected.155 The Americans were also present at the test in a monitoring capacity and were encamped at a nearby island. In fact, US observations and analysis of the first Grapple series, as well as Grapple X, revealed that they overestimated yield in comparison to British calculations.156 Though the first Grapple series was a success from a scientific perspective, plans had already begun to test additional nuclear devices before any test ban came into effect—these were also to be known as the Grapple tests, series X, Y, and Z. Scientifically, the devices to be used at the various 1957–58 Grapple tests were very different from any British devices exploded so far. The tests were particularly important because by early 1958 discussions had begun in Washington

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between Prime Minister Macmillan and President Eisenhower regarding what would become a full resumption of the technical nuclear partnership (see Chapter 6). Hence, as the Americans were both observing and monitoring the tests, it was essential that Britain demonstrate further proficiency in nuclear weaponry to its most valued ally. Given the scientific advances that were to be tested, Grapple Y saw an increase in the UK and US monitoring effort. In particular, this included determining the gamma radiation and measuring the radioflash of each test. By agreement with the US and New Zealand governments, microbarograph measurements were also conducted. Samples of air, water, and fish were to be taken, once more from a variety of locations. Finally, cloud samples were also to be collected.157 The composition of the devices meant that the tests would generally be of high-yield weapons; therefore, it was essential to be able to collect debris from high altitudes because ‘with weapons where a substantial yield comes from fusion, the products are largely gaseous.’158 The usual aircraft for this type of sample collection was the Canberra, but this vehicle had an upper ceiling of just over fifty thousand feet, and monitoring requirements called for measurements to be made higher up in the troposphere. The solution was the fitting of double Napier scorpion rockets to the Canberra, enabling samples to be collected at up to sixty-two thousand feet. This monitoring component was essential because it was felt that ‘any increase in height will improve greatly the “signal to noise” ratio.’159 Altitude helps to explain why the high-flying U-2 aircraft became such a valuable addition to the monitoring efforts in subsequent years.160 In addition to these scientific monitoring efforts, a further detection outpost in Western Samoa was used strictly for intelligence purposes, as it represented approximately the same distance from the British test site as from one of the Soviet test sites to a British monitoring station.161 The Value of Monitoring

Monitoring the status of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme was valuable for three reasons: Firstly, it provided direct evidence of the type of weapons the Soviet Union were testing. Secondly, it facilitated a much-valued technical dialogue between the British and the Americans. Thirdly, it provided scientific indications that could be useful for the development of Britain’s own weapons. The first two of these are discussed above; however, how important was intelligence from Soviet tests for British progress? Whitehall’s wide-ranging review of the atomic intelligence organisation in 1954 concluded that ‘by far the most rewarding methods, have been those

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applying scientific techniques to long-range detection of the “by-products” of Russian atomic energy explosions.’162 Given their wartime involvement at Los Alamos, it is unlikely that British scientists had much to learn from early fission-bomb tests. However, it is scientifically possible that they could learn from thermonuclear-weapons tests. In a fascinating paper, a scientist attached to the Swedish government has demonstrated how a hydrogen bomb leaves a ‘radioactive signature.’163 This theme was adopted by two Americans, Hirsch and Matthews, who argued less persuasively that the first Soviet hydrogen bomb had been based on analysis of debris from US tests.164 Certainly the British were interested in collecting debris from the tests employing thermonuclear reactions to inform their own weapons programme.165 Penney was unquestionably very keen on ‘sniffing’ as a source of information.166 Of the various methods, radiochemical analysis was by far the most important in terms of what information could be gleaned that would be of use to British scientists. One of the most important figures in this respect was Frank Morgan—Superintendent of Radiochemical Research at Aldermaston. One of Morgan’s colleagues was Henry Wilson, who was responsible for the mass spectrometry and low-level radioactivity measurements needed for detailed debris analysis. However, another of Wilson’s roles was as secretary of the I Committee—a position he held from the committee’s formation in 1955 to 1962.167 The I Committee was involved in the interpretation of the debris from foreign tests. However, this information was then considered in terms of the development of British weapons in another committee: the Weapon Development Policy Committee (WDPC). Wilson was not a member of the WDPC, and though he analysed the debris from foreign tests and was involved in the interpretation, he was not in a position to gauge their impact on future British developments.168 The WPDC was set up in April 1956 under the instigation of future Aldermaston deputy-director William Cook, who was to play a leading role in the development of the British hydrogen bomb. Cook also established the I Committee, which, importantly, liased with a similar group in America under the chairmanship of Hans Bethe.169 These British and American groups met regularly, and given the terms of the McMahon Act, dialogue was concentrated on a discussion of Soviet warheads and not American or British ones.170 Despite the limitations, according to one participant there were the occasional ‘nods and winks’ concerning US designs.171 The monitoring effort was an integral component of the British programme, so useful, in fact, that a small team of radiochemists at Aldermaston worked directly for the intelligence services. This was crucial, for as one radiochemist has testified, ‘The air-burst tests of all the nuclear countries were

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regularly monitored and compared with UK tests. This enabled us to follow the development of the research of each country.’172 In fact, it appears that the monitoring programme was a factor in the successful development of Britain’s hydrogen bomb, which in turn led to the resumption of the US-UK wartime atomic alliance. On Penney’s orders, microbarographs were set up to record signals from the 1954 Castle series of American hydrogen-device tests. The subsequent analysis allowed Penney to claim to be able to differentiate between two-stage and three-stage devices, despite the fact that other leading scientists have questioned the feasibility of this feat. Therefore, given the British requirements for a hydrogen bomb, it was possible to concentrate on the two-stage method.173 Operation Aconite complemented these recordings by providing debris samples from Castle. Analysis of these samples confirmed British theories—that a hydrogen bomb would utilise Li-6 and in turn produce Be-7.174 Such ideas were further substantiated by analysis of Joe-19.175 Aldermaston scientists were able to calculate the masses of the various chemicals employed in the thermonuclear reaction. Such information was significant because of the high cost of taking a wrong turn in the development programme. Analytical discussions with the Americans in late 1955 and early 1956 of Joe-19 provided more information that the Soviet device had been two-stage, with different isotopes of fissionable uranium employed for each, and once more this indicated that the British were progressing along the right track.176 Perhaps as a direct consequence, in the 1956 Mosaic trials, one of the devices tested ‘contained many different tracer compounds so that we could determine the neutron spectrum and work out the thermonuclear component of the explosion.’177 It appears that although this analysis of foreign test debris did not provide a direct path to the British hydrogen bomb detonated at Grapple in 1958, it did help. It certainly revealed that the scientists at Aldermaston were on the right track. This revelation seems to have occurred in the spring of 1956. The later devices, Grapple X, Y, and Z, were step-by step improvements. Lorna Arnold, in her recent magisterial official history, has commented that ‘it seems probable that the study of foreign weapon test debris . . . apparently helped to clarify and confirm ideas which the British scientists were already exploring. . . . This was important.’178 The successful test opened the door to hitherto inaccessible American secrets, yet US scientists who then explored British progress found that they had made remarkable advances. Los Alamos director Norris Bradbury stated that ‘the British have little to learn from us,’ and Edward Teller, the self-styled father of the hydrogen bomb, commented that ‘in recent exchanges [I] found that although they devoted a fraction of time and money to their

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programme as compared with the US programme, their developments substantially parallel our own. Nothing of special significance has escaped the British.’179 The Soviet Long-Range-Detection Programme

Paradoxically, while the Americans had by far the most advanced and most comprehensive monitoring programme, they effectively had the least to gain from analysing tests. Britain, however, could and did learn much, as of course could the Soviet Union. In their article, Hirsch and Matthews claimed that the Soviet hydrogen bomb was developed from an analysis of US tests, but how valid is this claim when compared to the relatively unknown history of the Soviet monitoring programme? As it was to the British and Americans, it was obvious to the Soviet Union that in order to evaluate the performance of a test, a certain level of monitoring was necessary. Accordingly, for the first Soviet test, in August 1949, the Soviets collected radioactive samples on 5 September and ground samples for a two-week period thereafter.180 Unlike the British and Americans, where there was great concern over the weather necessary for testing, the Soviets seemingly were less cautious. The weather for the first Soviet test affected the trajectory of the radioactive cloud, which made it difficult to collect samples.181 Nevertheless, a report was made of the results: ‘Report on Measuring the Traces of the Radioactive Fallout.’ Despite these measurements, it appears that an effective and larger monitoring effort was not begun until 1951, and this was primarily a response to discovering how the West had known so much about the 1949 test.182 Responsibility for the monitoring effort lay with the head of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme, Igor Kurchatov. He ordered seismic investigations to be initiated at GEOFIAN—the Geophysical Institute of the USSR—under G.A.Gambortsev.183 Accordingly, the first seismic signals were analysed that same year.184 The Soviet detection programme eventually became known as the Special Monitoring Service (SMS).185 By 1952 the SMS was able to seismically detect the October American tests, resulting in an expansion of the seismic network, though it appears that all the stations remained within Soviet territory. By this time debris collection and analysis had also begun and was conducted in two directions: one laboratory worked on ground collection, while another worked on aerial collection. By 1953 these laboratories were advanced enough for Kurchatov’s brother, Boris, to utilise samples for radiochemical separation.186 Interestingly, one of the key figures involved in the airborne technique was the Soviet father of the hydrogen bomb, Andrei Sakharov.187

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The Soviet thermonuclear tests of 1953 provided Moscow, for the first time, with evidence of the advantages of both the acoustic and the electromagnetic-pulse method. Consequently, the Soviet Union was able to receive good signals from the 1954 American thermonuclear tests. At this time the GRU—Soviet military intelligence—was given responsibility for managing the distant observation stations.188 Though the permanent stations appear to have been located within the Soviet bloc, the British and Americans were certainly aware that Soviet trawlers collected evidence from their respective tests.189 From 1954 the Soviets began a large-scale programme aimed at detecting American tests.190 At this time the only two permanent seismic stations were located near Moscow and in the Khabarovsk region, though it appears another was soon constructed in the Antarctic. By 1955 both the acoustic and radionuclide collection stations had also expanded. Acoustic stations were primarily within the Soviet Union, though there was also one on the ‘ice-drifting polar station North-Pole 5.’ Debris-collecting flights were flown from eleven locations along the western and southern borders of the Soviet Union and these collected samples from all the American tests in the Pacific.191 Soviet monitoring of Soviet tests was also conducted and included one unlucky aircraft and crew flying through the cloud created by very-high-yield thermonuclear devices. One veteran recalled that the doctors told them that vodka would kill the radiation.192 Hirsch and Matthews in their article claimed that the Soviet Union detected debris from the 1952 Ivy Mike test and that analysis of this sample led to the development of the Soviet hydrogen bomb. In a rejoinder, Chief Designer at Arzamas-16 Yuri Khariton has commented how ‘we in principle could not have accomplished this, since at that time the collection of atmospheric fallout and its analysis was very poorly developed in our country.’193 The evidence suggests that in some respects both parties are right—that just as in the case of the United Kingdom, Soviet debris analysis confirmed existing beliefs rather than proposing radically new designs. Geneva Conference of Experts, 1958

In July and August 1958, representatives of the various monitoring communities met in Geneva to discuss the practicalities of creating a worldwide detection network in the hope that a nuclear test ban could be approved. Such a ban was thought feasible only because of the strengths and capabilities offered by the monitoring network. The conference not only provided an opportune moment to bring some kind of halt to the testing of nuclear devices (though

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not, of course, to their further development), but also offered a chance to discover how successful the Soviets had been in detecting British and American nuclear tests. Discussions had begun in earnest in 1955 to bring about a nuclear test ban. The impetus for these had come primarily from the American government for one quite obvious reason: As the Americans were the furthest advanced in terms of nuclear weapons design, a successful test ban would offer a very good chance to retard Soviet weapon design. Accordingly, AEC Commissioner Thomas Murray told President Eisenhower that ‘it is my deep conviction that a moratorium on the testing of large thermonuclear weapons would lengthen the time during which the United States would maintain its advantage over the USSR.’194 It is likely that at this stage the Soviet Union would not have agreed to American plans. The detection of Joe-19 was crucial, therefore, as it revealed that a test ban would have less of an impact on the Soviet programme than originally thought. Extensive studies—based primarily on information provided by the monitoring networks—were made by the US government in an attempt to verify whom a test ban would affect more in terms of nuclear weapons development.195 The conference was organised into two delegations—East and West. These parties were not limited to strictly Soviet and Anglo-American, but also included Soviet-bloc scientists and French and Canadian experts. The remit, according to James Fisk (the American head of the Western delegation), was clear: ‘We went to study the methods—all the methods by which nuclear tests could be detected and identified and then see if we could put together a system or systems which would be capable of detecting and identifying nuclear tests in the world. We avoided very carefully any political arguments of any sort.’196 The British had been greatly concerned about ensuring that they had tested a thermonuclear device before any ban took place, hence the comparably large number of British tests conducted in 1957–58. According to Sir Michael Wright, head of the British delegation at the subsequent test-ban talks, the British position was based on an awareness of the United Kingdom’s unique vulnerability to nuclear attack—therefore, a test ban offered a form of safety clause. In this way, ‘Great Britain, like other medium and smaller powers with fewer national resources, cannot afford to match the effort of the giants, and must look to other means of assuring her safety.’197 Before the conference officially began, the British and American parties met to discuss aims and techniques to employ.198 The permanent British contingent was headed by the indomitable Penney, accompanied by Cockcroft and Edward Bullard, and included two members of the ‘MoD.’199 In fact these

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‘MoD’ figures were two members of the TRU: its director, Dr Robert Press, and its Russian translation analyst and GCHQ collator, Peter Kelly.200 The fact that there were intelligence officers present was kept from the other representatives, as delegates were not given their real working titles.201 The US delegation was equally impressive, including Fisk, Hans Bethe, Carson Mark (Director of Theoretical Physics, Los Alamos), Doyle Northrup (Director, AFOAT-1), and Herbert Scoville (CIA).202 Both delegations were assisted by experts in particular fields. The strength of the American group was taken by the British to indicate the seriousness with which they considered the talks.203 Before the conference began, the British were very pessimistic about its chances of success; the British therefore hoped ‘to induce the Russian experts to recognise the desirability of as many elements in the Western system as possible.’204 Why were the Soviets participating when they had hitherto not done so? A JIC assessment made clear the belief that the Soviets would support a test ban so that scarce Soviet economic resources could be deployed elsewhere. At the same time it was felt that the Soviet leadership genuinely believed that a test ban would reduce the possibilities of a nuclear war and would thus seem very appealing.205 The conference began at the start of July, and each day Penney filed a report and sent it to the Foreign Office in London, as did his American counterparts to Washington. The Soviet delegation was led by Fedorov, in Penney’s view a very capable scientist and clever debater.206 Almost immediately it became clear that as keen as the members of the Western contingent were for a test ban, they did not think the Soviet delegation would agree to the various inspection criteria. Consequently, the Western delegation, and the British in particular, pursued a secondary objective: to gain as much knowledge as possible of the Soviet monitoring system and capabilities.207 The daily schedule of the conference was organised around discussions of the various monitoring techniques and of their respective capabilities. Each day, therefore, both sides endeavoured to provide evidence on the advantages of their techniques in comparison to the other contingent. Penney would write back to the Foreign Office each day indicating which side had won the debate. In his view, the methods discussed by the Soviet side were scientifically further advanced than the West had expected prior to the conference. In Penney’s view the Eastern delegation was ‘obviously impressed by the wealth of our data’; accordingly, he felt that ‘the atmosphere in the meetings is growing progressively sweeter.’208 One result was that discussions could be conducted in great detail on the merits of the respective monitoring systems. Reflecting on these conversations, Penney concluded that the members of the Eastern delegation were ‘not as impressive as scientists and did not produce

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much new data.’209 Yet in terms of the acoustic method, the Soviets discussed techniques that the United States ‘regarded as very secret.’210 The Western delegation felt that the Soviets overemphasised the detection capabilities for lowyield tests, but in general terms there was broad agreement.211 In regard to debris collection, the Soviet contingent emphasised that the primary purpose of air collection was to verify that an event was nuclear.212 As far as electromagnetic detection was concerned, the Soviets tried to show that they were in advance of the West, but Penney remained dubious about their evidence.213 Seismologically there were big differences in the capabilities of all the participants’ respective systems.214 The conference concluded on 21 August 1958 and resulted in an agreed system, described in the officially published ‘Report of the Conference of Experts to Study the Methods of Detecting Violations of a Possible Agreement on the Suspension of Nuclear Tests.’215 There followed further detailed discussions at Geneva about the practicalities of such an agreement lasting several years. The resulting test moratorium, beginning in late 1958, was broken by the Soviet Union in 1961 when it detonated the ‘tsar bomb’—a massive thermonuclear device with a yield of between 50 and 60 megatons.216 Following the end of the conference, both British and American intelligence services attempted to evaluate the Soviet position. The CIA in its study continually emphasised that the Eastern delegation had made frequent claims about the successes of its system, but that these claims were unsubstantiated. Importantly—in comparison to Penney’s earlier view—it was revealed that the Soviet EMP system was more advanced than the equivalent American one.217 Following the conference there were further Anglo-American meetings to discuss the detection of weapons tests, and these meetings culminated in the short-lived test ban. Blair and Brewer have argued that during this period problems with verification resulted in the arms race; however, is the opposite not more accurate—that the successes of verification revealed the increased threat?218 The foundations that were laid during the 1950s are still visible today. Modern-day monitoring networks owe their technological basis to work carried out in the 1950s, though the emphasis is now different from the original intentions.219 The successful monitoring of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme provided a relatively translucent window into its evolution. As a result, Britain and America were able to detect the first Soviet fission, boosted fission, and fusion devices. By doing so they were able to monitor the reduction in the size of such warheads, to the extent that devices small enough for missiles were identified in 1956 (see Chapter 6). Consequently, while predictive intelligence on

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the Soviet nuclear weapons programme may often have been lacking, present awareness of the programme was substantially complete. In light of this evidence, the comments recently made by Tom Milne—that ‘Aldermaston’s historical contribution to nuclear arms control and disarmament has been small . . . and for the most part intermittent’—are wholly inaccurate.220 Given the difficulties in coordinating the worldwide monitoring of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme, it was obvious that a central control and analysis centre with speedy communications was needed. In America this centre was provided by AFTAC, working in close liaison with the CIA, AFOAT-1, and the AEC. In Britain the atomic intelligence organisation, through its dual overt (TRU) and covert (TAL) existence, provided such a centre; heavy reliance was placed upon both Aldermaston and Harwell to provide scientific analysis. Through the office in the embassy in Washington, TRU and TAL were able to communicate directly with the Americans. This liaison included not only the bringing together of British and American experts to discuss the Soviet nuclear weapons programme but also the sponsoring of visits of British experts to the United States to discuss aspects of the mutual programme. In addition to the invaluable insight into Soviet capabilities that this cooperative Anglo-American programme gave to the United Kingdom, the importance of this channel to Britain’s own programme should not be underestimated. Similarly, the channel to the United States enabled lines of communication (albeit somewhat restricted) to be kept open between British and American nuclear scientists in the years before the conclusion of the 1958 bilateral agreement. Anglo-American collaboration in this period therefore represented a substantial respite within what was otherwise a very dire ‘nuclear special relationship.’ The Anglo-American system for detecting foreign nuclear tests grew into a technically advanced and immensely capable system. It ensured three major benefits: Firstly, it provided both nations with direct intelligence on the status of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme. Secondly, it provided the British with vital information that could then be used in the development of their own weapons programme. Finally, it provided the British with indirect access to information about the US weapons programme, though until 1958 this access was often extremely limited. In many respects, therefore, the Anglo-American relationship was of more importance to Britain than it was to America. In terms of intelligence, it was crucial; yet while it was essential to be able to discern Soviet progress, what was really required was advance knowledge, and to this end the monitoring network was effectively redundant.

Eric Welsh. Courtesy of John Welsh.

Delegates at 1958 Experts’ Conference. Dr Robert Press is second from the left with a glass in his hand. Peter Kelly is second from the right. Courtesy of Dr Carl Romney.

Dr Wilfrid Mann. Courtesy of Professor Kris Mann.

Dr Frank Panton. Courtesy of Nottingham University.

Dr Walter Colby and his wife, Martha Colby. Courtesy of Professor Kris Mann.

Lord Penney and Dr Morgan. Courtesy of AWE Aldermaston, Crown Copyright.

Oval Office, 16 March 1953. Shown left to right (seated) are Anthony Eden (Foreign Secretary), President Eisenhower, John Foster Dulles (Secretary of State); left to right (standing) Roger Makins (British Ambassador to the United States), Winthrop Aldrich (US Ambassador to Great Britian), Walter Bedell Smith (Under-Secretary of State and former Director of Central Intelligence). Courtesy of Dwight D. Eisenhower Library.

Signing of 1954 revisions. Left to right (seated): President Eisenhower, Representative Sterling Cole (Chairman, Joint Committee on Atomic Energy), Lewis Strauss (Chairman, Atomic Energy Commission). Men standing are unidentified. Courtesy of Dwight D. Eisenhower Library.

Monitoring hut, 1958. This hut was in Western Samoa and was used by the British to monitor the Grapple Series nuclear tests, 1957–58. Courtesy of Major General Eric Younson.

Sampling equipment. This shows the interior of a Varsity aircraft, used for debris sampling during Operations Mosaic and Buffalo, 1957. TNA: PRO ES 5/167. Crown Copyright.

Canberra sampling equipment. Removal of gas sampling equipment from a Canberra B6, 1957. TNA: PRO ES 5/167. Crown Copyright.

Cleaning the filters, 1957. Cleaning the filters of a Canberra aircraft, used for sampling operations during Operation Mosaic. TNA: PRO ES 5/167. Crown Copyright.

Air sampling. Courtesy of Dwight D. Eisenhower Library.

US debris-collection flight paths around the Soviet periphery, 1958. Courtesy of Dwight D. Eisenhower Library.

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Photographic reconnaissance flight paths from various bases, operated by the United Kingdom, 1948. Source: TNA: PRO CAB 176/18.

Operation Unsparing, 1958. Flight paths for Operation Unsparing, flown from Laverton, Australia. Source: TNA: PRO AIR 14/4052.

‘Bismuth’ flights flown by the British to collect debris from Joe-1. Source: Harry S. Truman Library: PSF: Subject File, 1945–53, Box 173. Courtesy of Harry S. Truman Library.

Flight path of the radioactive debris from 30 September 1951 Soviet nuclear explosion (Joe-2). Source: TNA: PRO DEFE 21/62.

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Renewed Collaboration: Atomic Intelligence, 1950–1954 The Prime Minister has said that as things are at present, the Western Allies have continually hanging over their heads the Sword of Damocles of a Russian attack on the Pearl Harbour model, they might at any time be caught by such an attack unawares and with no justification made to receive it. Paper circulated to the Chiefs of Staff, 19541

In the aftermath of the Western intelligence failure to accurately predict the first Soviet atomic bomb test, renewed calls were made to reform the British atomic intelligence organisation. Despite such demands, Lieutenant Commander Eric Welsh managed to retain command and autonomy of his unit. At the same time, his position was strengthened by the successes of the long-range-detection network, which he coordinated through the TAL/SIS component of his organisation. Indeed, Welsh was to achieve increasing levels of control over British atomic intelligence, resisting further attempts, by R.V. Jones in particular, to rationalise its position within the wider scientific intelligence machinery. Welsh in fact was a very shrewd civil servant. He was able to repel all attempts to unseat him through increasing the prestige, purview, range of activities, and efficiency of his unit, so that any proposed alternative to his control would be untenable. He was supported in his position by those in Whitehall who believed that atomic relations with the Americans would be harmed if British atomic intelligence was not kept separate from the conventional scientific intelligence organisation. In 1954, with the transfer of the civilian and military aspects of atomic energy out of the Ministry of Supply, atomic intelligence underwent a comprehensive evaluation. The subsequent report concluded that the organisation should remain under Welsh, though a high-level committee was to be established, in part to control his power. How was Welsh able to achieve such a feat? Regardless of British intelligence’s inability to forecast Joe-1, Welsh was able to build upon the foundations

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laid during the period after 1945. With its direct contact with British atomic scientists on the one hand, and the intelligence-collection agencies on the other, British atomic intelligence became an indispensable component of the American atomic intelligence process. Thus, despite the limitations of the McMahon Act, Anglo-American atomic intelligence relations were to improve dramatically throughout 1950–1954. This development was achieved primarily through collaborations of various kinds: the joint collection of intelligence on the Soviet nuclear weapons programme and, where possible, the joint analysis of such information. It was during this period that the foundations were laid for what would turn out to be the cornerstone of the Anglo-American atomic intelligence ‘special relationship’ of the 1950s. Through Operation Nomination and then the Music Programme, Britain was able to retain a vital foothold in the American nuclear weapons programme. A crucial element of this connection was that it was a genuine two-way street, based not only on what information the British could learn from the Americans, but on the value and importance the Americans attached to British views. Atomic intelligence collection was more varied in the early 1950s than it had been leading up to Joe-1. While there was still an emphasis on the monitoring of uranium mining in East Germany, this factor was given less precedence in the production of intelligence estimates. More significant, in terms of both collected intelligence and its implications, was the monitoring of Soviet plutonium production, through the elaborate Operation Nomination. In addition, British intelligence was assisted through various defectors, in particular the intriguing Icarus. German scientists working in the Soviet Union were an important source of information, primarily through the interception of their correspondence with relatives back in Germany. Despite the increased amount of collected information, intelligence estimates were still limited. There was, for example, extremely little evidence on the Soviet hydrogen bomb programme. However, in many respects this dearth was less worrisome than it had been in the late 1940s because intelligence priorities had changed. Primary, from the early 1950s, was the ability to accurately monitor the testing of Soviet nuclear devices, and this endeavour enjoyed great success. British strategy from the early 1950s was also based almost exclusively on the Anglo-American military alliance. Crucial to this relationship was the role of the British ‘independent deterrent.’ This nuclear capability not only enabled joint targeting with the United States but also ensured that solely British objectives could be attacked. Similarly, and possibly more importantly, in the eyes of the British it provided an added technological impetus for those Americans keen to resume full exchange.

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Although it is extremely unlikely that any alternative organisation would have fared better, Eric Welsh’s Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit (AEIU) came under various degrees of scrutiny. While Welsh himself was vigorous in defending his unit and its special status, other figures closely associated with him were also quick to do so. Meanwhile, among those leading figures in trying to absorb atomic intelligence into the scientific intelligence organisation was its head, Dr Bertie Blount, together with the renowned Dr R.V. Jones. Blount, a wartime chemist attached to the Special Operations Executive (SOE), had once had the brain wave of poisoning Hitler with anthrax.2 In fact on his death, Blount’s family found remains of anthrax in jars in a homemade laboratory above his garage.3 In commenting on the role of Welsh’s unit in terms of its failure to accurately predict Joe-1, Blount wrote that ‘it should be carefully considered, in the light of recent events, whether the D.At.En. intelligence unit should be transferred to the DSI [Directorate of Scientific Intelligence].’ At the same time, however, Blount revealed his comprehension of the compelling reason for the current status of the unit. Indeed, he conceded that ‘in view of the “special” relationship which exists between this unit and its American counterpart it would be argued with some force that any change in supervision of this unit would be likely to endanger the relations between the UK and the USA on this vital subject.’4 There existed a certain amount of animosity between Blount’s DSI and Welsh’s AEIU at this stage. In a wide-ranging report on Soviet developments, the Joint Scientific and Technical Intelligence Committee (JS/JTIC)—the clearinghouse for scientific intelligence—recorded that ‘the Department of Atomic Energy have not yet been able to advise us on the revision of this section.’ They added dismissively that therefore they no longer considered ‘it desirable to further delay the submission to the Joint Intelligence Committee of our amendments.’5 Despite outbreaks of childish bickering, Welsh was able to retain control of his unit. Although Welsh’s unique relationships with leading scientists may have had much to do with this decision, the primary factor was the preservation of Anglo-American relations. The key figure in this scenario was Sir Michael Perrin, one of the deputy controllers for atomic energy in the Ministry of Supply. Perrin, a close colleague of Welsh’s since the wartime intelligence effort against the German atomic programme, was adamant that atomic intelligence remain where it was. On this point he argued ‘that it was impossible’ to unify British scientific intelligence, ‘because the British had to work very closely

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with the Americans, and the Americans were adamant that there must be such a division between nuclear and non-nuclear scientific intelligence.’ As Blount recalled, this was ‘an argument of great force.’ Blount was correct in his final summation—the value of American cooperation was too great—and atomic intelligence remained a separate component of the British scientific intelligence machinery. However, that did not stop Blount from continuing his attempts to ‘obtain’ atomic intelligence or Welsh from continually worrying about its future. In late 1950 Blount visited his American counterpart, Dr H.M. Chadwell, the head of scientific intelligence in the CIA. His observations of Chadwell’s Office of Scientific Intelligence, and the separate atomic intelligence unit under Dr Walter Colby in the AEC, were that ‘American intelligence is inexperienced, overstaffed, wastefully run and rent by internal dissentions.’ On his return the outcome of his visit was renewed calls in the United Kingdom to alter the structure of British intelligence.6 The following month, in January 1951, Welsh wrote to his representative in the United States, Dr Wilfrid Mann, explaining how ‘Blount continues to go from strength to strength, and I am afraid we are fighting a losing battle in trying to keep atomic energy intelligence in the D.At.En., however we much we feel this is the right place for it.’7 Nevertheless, Welsh’s argument won, partly because of the Anglo-American dimension, but possibly also because Blount’s planned absorption did not sit comfortably with SIS, a leading component of the atomic intelligence picture. In this regard, Welsh wrote that ‘one simply cannot justify to Blount the fact that a ‘C’ [SIS] officer is in charge of a collection section, while at the same time insist[ing that] Bertie should keep his fingers off collection.’8 Therefore, it is clear that SIS wanted to retain one of its own officers, as Welsh indeed was, as responsible for indicating intelligence targets. Strengthening Welsh’s position was the fact that the Americans appeared to be on Welsh’s side. During his visit to the United States in late 1950, Blount had attempted to discuss British and American estimates of the Soviet nuclear weapons stockpile but without success. Though the Americans had themselves been willing to discuss the matter with Blount, they had first inquired through Wilfrid Mann whether Blount was himself authorised to discuss the matter. The response from London, no doubt originating from Welsh, was ‘negative.’9 Blount remained dedicated to his cause of organisational aggrandisement. Having previously been head of the scientific section of the Control Commission in Germany, Blount knew many of the senior figures involved in the intelligence

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community in Germany. Through these he attempted to weaken Welsh’s position, though once more his attempts were futile. For instance, in replying to one approach, Major General Kirkman, head of the Intelligence Division of the British Army of the Rhine (BAOR), informed Blount that he was ‘doing [his] best to keep out of the arguments.’10 Blount was ultimately unsuccessful in his attempts to move atomic intelligence and, out of exasperation, transferred to the Department of Scientific Research in 1952. In leaving, Blount delivered one final parting shot at Welsh’s unit, warning the Ministry of Defence that ‘it is necessary to remove the anomalous arrangements for atomic energy intelligence, which are actively harmful to good scientific intelligence.’11 Blount’s successor, chosen upon the personal recommendation of Prime Minister Winston Churchill, was the indomitable R.V. Jones. Jones, who had earlier resigned as head of scientific intelligence because of his inability to harness atomic intelligence, assumed his position in September 1952 with the brief of ‘strength[ening] the Directorate so that it could effectively fulfil its function of anticipating the applications of science to warfare by potential opponents of British interests.’12 Jones’ appointment, therefore, was a direct result of the mess that scientific and technical intelligence found itself in within the Ministry of Defence. Perhaps this is another reason atomic intelligence was not absorbed into scientific intelligence at this time. Jones’ dislike for the present atomic intelligence organisation had not altered since his resignation six years earlier. In fact, during the period when he had worked outside of Whitehall, Jones had unofficially assisted Blount in attempting to unite atomic and scientific intelligence.13 Jones complained that in its separated form, the British intelligence machinery would not work well, and that by having an SIS officer as its head it would receive deferential treatment over the rest of scientific intelligence.14 Soon after his return to Whitehall, Jones wrote a paper on scientific intelligence, in which he was once more critical of the performance of atomic intelligence.15 The combative Jones remained in office for a little over a year before once more resigning in protest. In his letter of resignation, Jones made it quite clear that his failure to transfer atomic intelligence into his domain lay at the root of his decision. Despite the fact that on his initial return in September 1952, ‘C’ had informed Jones that he had no objection if the collation aspects of atomic intelligence moved to the DSI, such a move never occurred, with the possibility of it doing so, in Jones’ words, ‘evaporating.’16 At this stage, in late 1953, the AEIU remained in the Ministry of Supply. However, discussions had already begun to move the unit into the Ministry of Defence. Although the Directorate of Scientific Intelligence was by this time

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also in the MoD, there was no question that the two would be united. Instead, it was proposed that a subcommittee be convened to look after atomic matters. The result of these proposals was the Daniel Report on atomic intelligence, which is discussed in Chapter 6. In the process of leaving, Jones copied his predecessor Blount by taking a parting shot at atomic intelligence, writing a lengthy summary of what he perceived to be its failings. In doing so he discussed the ‘existing arrangements’ as ‘muddled and indefinite.’ He recommended instead an atomic intelligence organisation located centrally within the Directorate of Scientific Intelligence. In attacking the AEIU, Jones was also extremely critical of Welsh as its head. He commented that ‘clues to the atomic field may be missed’ and that it was his intention to ‘leave to my successor a tidier and happier organisation than has been inflicted upon the Heads of Scientific Intelligence since 1945.’17 Jones’ personal critique of Welsh stemmed from their wartime ‘collaboration,’ during which Welsh and Perrin had allowed some intelligence material to be shipped to America before Jones had had a chance to see it. In fact, in interviews, Jones recalled that Welsh was ‘distinctly good’ at his wartime role. However, it was Welsh’s resistance to Jones’ overtures that really altered his impression of him. In return, Welsh shared Perrin’s view of Jones as someone who felt he had won the war single-handedly.18 The animosity between Jones and Welsh was such that MoD officials ensured they never had to attend the same Chiefs of Staff meeting for fear of what would happen if they did.19 Welsh’s position was strengthened primarily through the strong AngloAmerican collaborative relationship he had built up after the war. Despite the fact that Joe-1 had caused a setback in technical atomic relations—collaborative plans had been dashed following the revelations of Klaus Fuchs’ treachery—the atomic intelligence partnership went from strength to strength. This process was no doubt assisted by the joint effort to detect and analyse the radioactive debris from the first Soviet nuclear explosion, but was also solidified and bolstered through various other intelligence programmes, discussed below. In America the long-range-detection programme was the responsibility of the US Air Force, whereas the rest of atomic intelligence was controlled by the Nuclear Energy Group in the CIA and an intelligence unit in the Atomic Energy Commission. In Britain all aspects of atomic intelligence were controlled through Eric Welsh. Although some facets were controlled through Welsh’s overt position in the MoS and some through his covert SIS link, the fact is that Welsh was central to all deliberations. This certainly created an organisation that worked extremely well with other Whitehall agencies and governmental

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organisations but also had a very productive relationship with the Americans. Indeed, many in the Unites States following Joe-1 called for the ‘closest possible collaboration between the UK and the USA on A.E. intelligence,’ and this was certainly known to the British.20 Anglo-American atomic intelligence relations were also assisted by the easing of the McMahon Act through the 1951 and 1954 revisions. In these it was envisaged by the United States that ‘the amendment should also permit exchange of that information vital to preparation of intelligence estimates on hostile atomic energy capabilities.’21 Indeed, the AEC believed that there should be ‘complete and comprehensive exchange.’22 By 1954 this relationship had progressed further, to the extent that there were biannual conferences to review intelligence estimates, with both sides transmitting reports to the other for comment. Welsh was ably assisted in nurturing this relationship through Wilfrid Mann, his representative in the United States. After an initial training period, Mann had been sent to America, where he became heavily involved in the Joe-1 deliberations. With Mann’s contract set to expire in October 1950, Welsh wrote to him in May enquiring as to his future plans. Mann informed both Welsh and Perrin that he wished to transfer out of his position. Initially he accepted an offer to join Perrin in working on atomic technical policy within the MoS. However, by mid-1951 and after only a few months in his new job, following news of Perrin’s imminent retirement from the civil service and Welsh’s concerns that atomic intelligence would not remain under his command, Mann chose to return to Washington and leave British government service.23 In the short term, however, SIS’s ‘atomic mann’ as he had become known, had agreed to extend his stay in Washington so as to help settle in his successor as Welsh’s liaison officer, and the overlap period lasted for a few months in early 1951.24 Mann’s replacement was Dr Robert Press, a seminally important figure who in turn was to become Welsh’s replacement following his death in late 1954. Dr Robert Press was educated in Belfast and obtained his doctorate from Trinity College, Dublin. A physicist by training, he was initially involved in research for the War Office. In 1948 he joined the Directorate of Atomic Energy in the Ministry of Supply. It is unclear whether at this stage he was involved in the intelligence aspects of D.At.En., but in 1951 he became Wilfrid Mann’s replacement in Washington. Upon this appointment, therefore, Press also became a part-time SIS officer, working under the TAL umbrella. He was to remain in this role until 1955, when he returned to London to assume the position of head of atomic intelligence.25 Throughout this period, from the aftermath

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of Joe-1 to the origins of the decision to move AEIU into the MoD, atomic intelligence was characterised by a continuing close relationship with its American counterpart, and this connection was crystallised through various programmes designed to gather intelligence on the Soviet nuclear weapons programme. Soviet Uranium

The increasingly successful Anglo-American detection network enabled the atomic intelligence unit, in the words of Eric Welsh, to ‘set dates to some stages in the development of the Russian programme.’ Nevertheless, as Welsh was first to realise, this ability did not offer a predictive capacity. In his words, it was a ‘very very poor stab,’ because ‘long distance detection techniques supply history not news. Nothing is as stale as yesterday’s newspaper.’26 Therefore, despite the undoubted advantages that long-range detection offered, what was really needed was foreknowledge of Soviet progress. In producing forecasts for the potential date of the first Soviet atomic bomb, an overwhelming emphasis was placed on estimating Soviet amounts of uranium—the raw material essential for a nuclear device. Therefore, not only had the explosion of a Soviet bomb in 1949, much earlier than Western observers anticipated, been a ‘shock’ in itself, but so had the fact that the Soviets had far more uranium than they had been credited with. Both British and American intelligence estimates of Soviet military strategy assumed that any Soviet decision to go to war would be predicated on the number of nuclear weapons possessed. Therefore, in order to comprehend this, it was necessary to have good information on the size of the Soviet stockpile. Estimates of the Soviet stockpile were to be achieved in two ways: by monitoring levels of Soviet uranium production, primarily in Germany; and through an elaborate Anglo-American plan to monitor the levels of radioactive gas in the atmosphere to calculate levels of Soviet plutonium output. Throughout the 1950s the main preoccupation of TAL was in penetrating the Soviet uranium-mining operations in Germany. This is perhaps unsurprising given the comparative successes of similar missions in the late 1940s. In particular, TAL was interested in the Erzgebirge mines in East Germany and primarily the quantities of shipments leaving for the Soviet Union.27 Erzgebirge in English means ‘ore-mountain range.’ Located in Saxony, it was the largest of the East German mines and was the site of the first discovery of uranium, in 1789. In 1938 the Wehrmacht had begun to conduct uranium research in the area, and during the Second World War the Allies had bombed the region to retard such efforts. Subsequently the mine was located in the Soviet

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zone of occupation, and Soviet geologists began to prospect in the area immediately following the termination of conflict. In 1946 uranium was first mined under Soviet management.28 In this early period, up to one hundred thousand people worked in the mines; accordingly, the haste to obtain uranium has been likened to the gold rush in the Wild West.29 A Soviet decree in May 1947 created the company AG Wismut to supervise operations. The name Wismut was apparently chosen to conceal the true intent of the mining operations, for it translates as the chemical element bismuth, whose properties and usages are totally different from those of uranium.30 Soon after, AG Wismut expanded to incorporate not only supervision of the mining but also the processing of ore and other menial aspects involved. Importantly, until 1956 Wismut was controlled by the Soviet secret police and ultimately by Lavrenty Beria, the director of the Soviet secret police, himself. Western intelligence was aware, therefore, that Beria was in charge of not only the MGB (a forerunner of the KGB) but also the Soviet atomic programme.31 Within Wismut itself and the mining operations there was very strict compartmentalisation; hence, only the senior individuals involved were privy to detailed information. As a corollary of this secrecy, the name Wismut itself became a taboo subject. A huge prohibited area was cordoned off, measuring more than three thousand square kilometres.32 To access the site workers had to show special passes, though company authorities removed the passes from many workers so that they could not leave.33 In many respects, therefore, Wismut became a ‘state within a state.’34 Interestingly, despite such security measures, the Soviets had to import specially made steel drill rods from firms in the West because Soviet ones broke too easily. From 1948 onwards, these rods were confiscated en route by the Western occupying powers.35 Intelligence reports on Wismut and the mining at Erzgebirge were vital, for not only could they provide an idea of the quantities of Soviet uranium, but also high-grade samples were transported to the processing establishment at Elektrostahl.36 As an example of just how important information on Wismut and Erzgebirge was is the fact that in early 1950 an investigation was conducted by the JS/JTIC into ‘the reasons for the concentration of resources of MI6 in Germany on atomic energy intelligence.’ The explanation, given by Dr Fereday of TCS—the scientific intelligence arm of SIS—was simply that ‘the subject presented more opportunities.’37 In May 1950 this emphasis became fully justified with the defection of Icarus. Although British and American intelligence had had some information about Soviet mining of uranium in Germany prior to this, Icarus’ defection was far more valuable. Icarus was in fact Colonel Salimanov, a Soviet internal affairs

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(MVD) officer who had originally been located in the Moscow base of the First Chief Directorate but who had become the deputy director of AG Wismut.38 There are many reasons for why someone defects to opposing intelligence services. Icarus first offered his services to Western intelligence because he had been sacked from Wismut and ordered back to the Soviet Union.39 The questioning of Icarus was a joint UK-US venture, and while under interrogation by British and American intelligence officers (and incidentally serving them his homemade beef stroganoff), Icarus had heard kids celebrating Independence Day and letting off fireworks, and this convinced him that ‘he would like to become an American citizen.’ The next day, however, he had completely changed his mind and soon afterward ‘defected’ back to the USSR.40 Thus, for three short months—May to July 1950—Icarus was the West’s most successful coup against Soviet intelligence. The reasons for Icarus’ disappearance, however, were not immediately clear to British intelligence. By September the JS/JTIC reported ‘no news of this defector.’41 A few months later it became apparent that he had redefected away from the Americans and back to the Soviets, which was confirmed by the defection to the West of two of his former girlfriends.42 Interrogations of his former chauffeur indicated that he was actually in Soviet hands.43 In fact, Icarus had returned simply because he was missing his German mistress! Although this seems a simplistic, even silly, reason for redefection, Western expertise in handling and ‘settling’ defectors was in its infancy, and the process of adjusting defectors to life in the West was underfunded.44 Icarus had returned to the Soviet zone in Germany, where he had been arrested. He was subsequently interrogated by the Soviets and confessed fully; he also provided details of the American intelligence interest in Wismut. For some reason, the case was deliberately played down in the Soviet Union, where Abakumov, the chief interrogator, hid the case from the Central Committee.45 It is claimed that Icarus was then summarily executed and the mistress he had returned to sent to the gulag.46 Dr Arnold Kramish interrogated Icarus on behalf of the AEC and labelled him a ‘very distasteful character.’ Similarly, he was never fully trusted by Eric Welsh, who regarded him as ‘very dangerous.’47 Despite these caveats, Icarus provided some of the most useful current information ever received on the Soviet atomic programme, including details of the senior individuals involved. A component of this intelligence was information on the ‘atomic office’ located in Berlin, which enabled British and American intelligence to identify amounts of fine-wire mesh transported to the Soviet Union, used for the fabrication of uranium metal.48

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Despite the fact that the majority of his information was nontechnical, Icarus confirmed British and American beliefs that Elektrostahl, just outside Moscow, was involved in uranium processing for use in atomic bomb production.49 He also provided numerous details on uranium-shipping procedures and frequencies. Thus, through his interrogation the processing plant at Krasnoyarsk was identified, as was the plant at Novosibirsk.50 According to his CIA handler, Harry Rositzke, Icarus provided a ‘rare combination of positive and counterespionage information.’ From his previous employment in the First Chief Directorate, Icarus also revealed information on MVD atomic operations, though as was evident from estimates at this time, this intelligence could not have been very specific. In the end, Icarus was able to provide intelligence that forced a ‘sharp upward revision of US estimates of the Soviet atomic energy program.’51 Icarus’ information was supplemented by intelligence from additional defectors. At around the same time, Alfred Hertz, another senior Wismut employee, defected to the British. He provided information on the headquarters and structure of the Wismut operations.52 Another defector, referred to only as ‘Walter Sch.,’ was recruited by British intelligence in June 1951. Not only did Sch. offer the latest information on Wismut, but together with a colleague he provided the British with five hundred grams of ore concentrate, thereby allowing the British to conduct independent analysis, potentially for the first time.53 Additional ore samples were provided to American intelligence in 1954, obtained by a defector working at the Wismut Ore Concentration Plant 98. Analysis of the samples revealed that ‘the mines still contain sufficient high grade material to warrant a second hand picking when it reaches a concentrating plant.’54 This information was important because it had initially been felt that all the top-quality uranium had already been excavated, implying that additional manpower and quantities were necessary to extract the same amount of highly enriched uranium. Lower-level defectors also provided very detailed information on the nature of uranium mining at Erzgebirge; much of this material appears in the reports of 250 defecting mine workers.55 What were the implications of and estimates reached from such pieces of information? The first British estimates made following the 1949 Soviet atomic bomb test continued the earlier theme that Soviet amounts of uranium would be a limiting factor in the Soviet programme.56 The increased US-UK collaboration had resulted in biannual meetings between Welsh’s atomic intelligence unit and his American counterparts. Although estimates were composed individually, both parties then met to discuss them. Whereas Anglo-American estimates

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had hitherto been broadly analogous, by 1951 differences had begun to emerge. The effect of these differences was to further enhance relations by prompting additional, more ‘detailed discussion[s].’57 By 1951, estimates of uranium levels and more importantly their relative impact on estimates of the Soviet programme changed dramatically. British intelligence could now state that although ‘the supply of uranium was at first a limiting factor . . . at the present time it is believed to be ample for the programme in hand, and will probably remain so in the foreseeable future.’58 The Americans too believed by this time that the Soviet Union now had sufficient uranium.59 It is unclear whether such a view was based on information provided by defectors, but such a conclusion had certainly been reached by January 1951.60 Such sentiments were echoed in both 1952 and 1953. The earlier divergences between British and American estimates had, by 1953, been rectified to produce ‘very fair agreement.’ However, 1954 estimates once more revealed a conflict of opinion. The United States had produced an estimate showing far higher quantities of Soviet uranium than those of previous years and far in excess of the British one. The British were especially puzzled, as the Americans had provided no justification for the immense change. To the British, the vast difference in the ranges provided by the new US estimate merely implied ‘admitting complete ignorance.’ The response, once more, was renewed calls for detailed Anglo-American discussions.61 Soviet Plutonium, the Green Run, and Operation Nomination

While information on Soviet uranium levels was useful, the 1951 conclusion that the Soviet Union had by then attained sufficient uranium meant that this intelligence could no longer provide an indication of progress. In the aftermath of Joe-1, the American Joint Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee (JAEIC) concluded that there were three stages in the intelligence process of estimating the Soviet nuclear weapons programme. Stage one, using uranium as a basis for estimates, had been reached. The explosion of Joe-1 had started the second stage, whereby the primary target was an appreciation of the speed with which the Soviets could stockpile nuclear weapons and the resulting quantity. Stage three, the final phase, would begin only once it was felt that the Soviet Union had reached nuclear sufficiency—the ability to build any number or type of nuclear weapon—and the aim would then be to compare Soviet and American stockpile sizes.62 The emphasis therefore was for atomic intelligence to provide estimates of the Soviet stockpile. In Britain there existed a similar, albeit less defined,

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structure. According to Eric Welsh, the remit given to him by the Chiefs of Staff was to answer the ‘all-embracing question’ of ‘when will the Russians have a stockpile of atomic bombs which in their opinion is sufficient to justify the risk of open warfare?’63 Thus, intelligence on the Soviet stockpile was directly related, in principle, to COS strategic planning. How were such estimates to be achieved? The 1948 Anglo-American modus vivendi had crystallised, through Area 5, a joint programme for the long-range detection of nuclear tests. Area 5 was extended that same year to include the ‘detection of atomic plants.’64 An effect of this change was the creation in late 1948 of a British Pile Location Panel: a group located primarily at Harwell whose role it was to assess evidence as to the locations of atomic piles.65 Despite being a component of the modus vivendi—in other words, the process was to be a collaborative effort—this programme caused an immediate problem, as the British were not allowed information on American plant design and operation.66 The solution was to make the programme so secret that many American politicians would not know it existed. The key to the detection of atomic piles lay in the presence of one isotope. The unique properties of a nuclear explosion created many new, hitherto undiscovered elements and isotopes. One of these was krypton-85, whose existence when first detected in 1945 was considered to be ‘quite unexpected,’ simply because ‘no naturally occurring stable isotope of krypton of atomic weight 85 is known.’ Kr-85 at this time was an artificial isotope created only through the processes involved in atomic science—it was consequently referred to as the ‘fission krypton.’67 The discovery that Kr-85 was produced only by such processes was exciting news because by collecting amounts of Kr-85, it might be possible to identify Soviet stockpile locations or levels of production. The problem, as it existed in the late 1940s, was twofold: Firstly, necessary measures had to be taken to ensure the successful collection of this radioactive gas; and secondly, more information had to be obtained on the relationship of the produced Kr-85 with the fission process.68 The solution was an extremely sensitive American plan, code-named the Green Run. Details of the Green Run first appeared totally by accident. In 1986 the director of the United States’ Hanford plant, Michael Lawrence, released nineteen thousand pages of his site’s history. Located within this myriad of documents researchers were able to spot a serious omission. Just as Flerov in the Soviet Union had identified the West’s interest in atomic energy at the start of the Second World War by the disappearance of relevant published papers in

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scientific journals, so researchers were quick to identify no mention of the early history of Hanford’s plutonium production, which it was known had been the least safety conscious. A careful perusal of Hanford’s history did provide some clues, linking something called the ‘Green Run’ with radioactive contamination emanating from the Hanford plant in December 1949.69 Details of the case were soon to become big news, especially as it turned out that ‘the Green Run was one of the biggest radiation releases ever to occur at an atomic facility.’70 What made the story even bigger was the fact that the release had been deliberate. So what had happened? The Green Run was directly related to the investigations into the properties of Kr-85. This fact is made explicitly clear in documents from the official Department of Defense investigation into human radiation experiments: ‘One means of developing and testing methods for the long-range detection of radioactive material was to conduct an atmospheric release test.’71 The DoD report was a consequence of the public furore created by Hanford’s release of documents. Another effect was an enquiry by the US Senate Committee on Governmental Affairs, which resulted in the release of more specific documents relating to the Green Run. Following the 1948 Sandstone tests (the intelligence component was Operation Fitzwilliam), the US Air Force (USAF), in agreement with British intelligence, declared that aerial sampling was the best method of detecting a nuclear test. To further develop this technique, in late 1948 and early 1949 the USAF flew several collection flights over the Oak Ridge and Hanford sites. Not only were the results considered disappointing, but soon afterward the Soviet Union detonated Joe-1.72 The effect of these events was the West’s increased desire to understand the detection methods, in particular how they could be directed towards monitoring Soviet plutonium production. In the US nuclear weapons programme, ‘green’ uranium was allowed to rest for ninety days to ensure that various elements could decay and so become less harmful. In the Soviet Union, however, it was known that only sixteen days’ decay was allowed. In October 1949 the United States decided that radioactive samples allowed to rest for 16 days, in order to replicate Soviet conditions, would be released from the Hanford site and would be monitored by the USAF and at various ground stations. In this way, as the Senate investigation confirmed, ‘details of the Green Run test and its historical context indicate that it was an atomic energy intelligence collection experiment.’73 As the official report makes clear, the experiment was a success, with aircraft able to collect good samples at distances of approximately one thousand miles.74 Further experiments were able to confirm the findings, especially in regard to krypton-85, and these indicated an amazing fact: that ‘the number of

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grams of plutonium produced in a natural uranium pile is directly proportional to the number of grams of Kr-85 produced by fission of uranium-235 in the pile.’ This finding implied that ‘a measurement of the total number of grams of Kr-85 in the earth’s atmosphere is therefore a measure of the total number of grams of plutonium produced.’75 As Kr-85 was an artificial gas, only negligible amounts were present in the atmosphere before 1945. The United States, Britain, and Canada were able to calculate the amount they had produced and, by adding the amount evident in Joe-1, were able to determine the levels emanating from the production of plutonium by the Soviet Union. As part of Area 5, the British were intimately involved in all aspects of this process, from collecting samples to the calculation of figures. One problem in assessing levels of Kr-85 was to understand how amounts in the atmosphere moved from the Northern to the Southern Hemisphere, as nuclear tests had occurred in both. The method used to figure this out has been recounted by Dr Carl Romney, a seismologist attached to AFOAT-1 and technical director of AFTAC: Diffusion of air across the equator could only be measured in the atmosphere itself. The problem could be addressed by injecting some trace material into the atmosphere in the north, allow it to disperse throughout, then watch for it to appear south of the equator and measure the increase over time. It was decided that the ideal trace material already existed for this experiment—plutonium. It was easy to detect and measure because of its intense radioactivity, and none existed at all in the atmosphere until 1945, when it was first injected into the air by the Trinity test. American Air Attaches were sent to vineyards up and down Chile to purchase cases of Chilean wine produced each year starting in the early 1940’s. These were then transported to American radiochemical labs. There, radiochemists would look for the first plutonium to appear at northern Chile vineyards, and measure how fast it increased and spread south. A surprise was in store for the scientists, who eagerly evaporated water and alcohol from gallons of good wine to search for minuscule traces of plutonium in the concentrated solids. They found plutonium, but they found it in even the earliest-dated samples, well before the first nuclear test! It is tempting to conclude that vintners are cheaters, at least those in Chile. But many years later I found a more probable (and charitable) explanation. Namely, the common practice of ‘topping off’ the oldest barrels of wine with wine from the next oldest, and so on, to make up for leakage and evaporation. This reduces the chance of damaging exposure to oxygen during the aging process, and adds to the flavour of the wine. But it also allows small quantities of younger wines to migrate into the older.

In the United States, this programme was initially known as Operation Bluenose. Bluenose was similar to the experiments conducted in the Green Run, with the distinct difference that it referred specifically to Kr-85. It was coordinated through AFOAT-1, perhaps unsurprisingly given the similarities in

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collection techniques with the long-range-detection programme.76 In Britain, the programme was initially referred to as Orlando, and was coordinated by Eric Welsh through the TAL organisation. From 1952, the combined British and American components were known as Operation Nomination. In May 1953 Chapman Pincher published an article in the Daily Express entitled ‘Britain, US Share Atom Secrets.’ The article discussed the recently convened ‘Nomination Committee’ and stated that following its first meeting the previous year, a second was to be held in the United Kingdom.77 Many years later, in the memoirs of his postwar intelligence years, R.V. Jones—the Director of Scientific Intelligence at this time—discussed Pincher’s scoop: ‘On the very morning that the conference was to open we were horrified to learn that Chapman Pincher had announced [it] in the Daily Express.’78 Commenting further on his exclusive, Pincher later wrote how the conference was ‘an informal group of British and American scientists which had been set up with the agreement of the Pentagon to get round the American Atomic Energy Act.’ Furthermore, ‘it was an MI6-CIA group set up to exchange intelligence about Russia’s atomic activities.’79 Nomination was an extremely sensitive committee, so much so that Jones recalled that ‘it was more secret than the details of the bomb itself.’80 Originally begun in the late 1940s, Nomination was described by British intelligence as a ‘scientific intelligence operation designed to obtain a measure of Russian plutonium production.’81 For the United States, discussions about Soviet plutonium output were problematic because they would entail informing the British of details of its own plutonium production. In response to this, the British made increased efforts to convince the Americans of the need for collaboration. The conference aside, relations with the United States on Nomination were conducted through the office of Dr Wilfrid Mann, Welsh’s liaison in Washington. It was through Mann that informal meetings were held with very senior figures in the Truman administration, in order to try to achieve a relaxation in the limits of the McMahon Act. Mann’s contacts included Walter Bedell Smith, the Director of Central Intelligence (DCI); Colby, the Director of Intelligence in the AEC; Robert LeBaron of the Department of Defense; and Gordon Arneson, the leading atomic figure in the State Department. Mann was able to report back to London that ‘they are all very insistent on the urgency of complete collaboration on the Krypton line.’82 In fact, Welsh was very fortunate in this connection, as Mann—a scientist by training—had some expertise in the field of gases and krypton in particular.83 It was realised very early on by the Americans just how beneficial such discussions would be. Gordon Dean, Chairman of the AEC, stated that collaboration

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would be of ‘great mutual interest.’84 A US concern, though, following the hysteria of the British spy cases, was British security standards. Attlee’s decision to adopt positive vetting was therefore paramount. Lord Cherwell, who, as Paymaster General, was intimately involved in intelligence matters, felt that American concerns about British security were purely academic, for he ‘personally believe[d] that the Americans are so anxious to cooperate on this particular question that they will merely make a cursory inquiry and report favourabl[y].’85 One corollary to US concerns about British security was the very small number of people included in the circulation of Nomination material.86 Anglo-American collaboration was extremely close and was preserved through several Nomination conferences.87 President Truman himself, on the recommendation of the National Security Council, was urged to continue the collaboration with the United Kingdom regarding Nomination. Indeed, Truman even allowed British access to ‘restricted data information,’ in other words, formerly inaccessible top secret material, in order for cooperation to be at its strongest.88 In his assertion that Nomination was a MI6/CIA venture, Pincher was correct, for relations were primarily collaborated through TAL of SIS, and the Nuclear Energy Group of the CIA. In addition to various brief meetings, the first full-length Nomination conference was held in July 1952, at the same time that discussions were under way in the United States about strengthening the Anglo-American relationship. The British contingent was composed of ten individuals, with a reserve list of three. Present were Sir John Cockcroft, Sir William Penney, Eric Welsh, Lord Cherwell, Dr Robert Press (Mann’s successor in Washington), two meteorological scientists attached to the Air Ministry (F. Pasquil and C.S. Durst), two scientists attached to the Ministry of Supply (B.S. Smith and Sutton), and lastly Dr Greg Marley, who was heavily involved in radiochemical research at Harwell. The second and final meeting was held the following year, in May 1953.89 How important was Nomination? This question needs to be considered in two respects: Firstly, Anglo-American collaboration was certainly increased through the Nomination meetings. This was important not only from an intelligence perspective, but also because it preserved a level of nuclear discussion otherwise prohibited. Indeed, R.V. Jones has written that Nomination ‘proved a turning point in the restoration of something approaching our close wartime relations.’90 Secondly, and just as importantly, was the information Nomination could provide on Soviet plutonium production, which was greatly facilitated by the close links established with Britain’s atomic scientific establishments. From the outset, the British Chiefs of Staff saw that complete collaboration with the Americans would provide the best means for estimating the

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Soviet nuclear stockpile.91 In this their wish was granted: The reassessment of the Soviet stockpile following Joe-1 was a joint Anglo-American venture.92 From that point onwards, there were biannual meetings of British and American atomic intelligence. In Britain, Welsh’s unit would devise its own estimate. In America the individual agencies with a responsibility for atomic intelligence would produce individual estimates, and then, through the Intelligence Advisory Committee and the Joint Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee, an amalgamated prediction would be formulated. Copies of both reports were then forwarded in both directions across the Atlantic, ‘so that each group can have the opportunity of discussing the other’s report before it writes its own next report.’ This was considered necessary by Welsh’s unit because the ‘estimates should be effectively co-ordinated in this way, since otherwise the military planners would receive contradictory advice about Russian potential.’93 Despite beginning research into the detection and evaluation of Kr-85 in the late 1940s, it was not until the end of 1951 that it was felt that detailed and reliable analysis could be achieved.94 Evidence from Nomination, in the form of Kr-85 measurements, had a profound impact within the less centralised American intelligence establishment. As a result, DCI Walter Bedell Smith could inform Senator Brien McMahon that the capabilities of the long-range-detection network, together with Kr-85 measurements, had ‘made possible complete agreement by the groups participating.’ This was particularly significant, as it table 2 British Estimates of the Likely Size of the Soviet Nuclear Arsenal Date of Estimate

Stockpile size by mid-1951 end 1951 mid-1952 end 1952 mid-1953 end 1953 mid-1954

1951

1952

35–50 a 55–75b 70–100 b 90–140 b 105–175b

80–120c 105–175d

1953

1954

90–140e 150–200 f 190–265g

a ‘Scale and Nature of Air Attack Against the United Kingdom,’ JIC(51)18(Final-Revise), 31 May 1951. PRO: CAB 158/12. b ‘Soviet and Satellite War Potential,’ JIC(51)117(Final), 22 April 1951. PRO: CAB 158/13. c ‘Military and Economic Strength of the Soviet Union,’ JIC(52)63(Final), 8 October 1952. PRO: CAB 158/14. d MoD to BJSM, 8 April 1952. PRO: DEFE 21/62. e ‘Soviet and Satellite War Potential, 1953–1957,’ JIC(53)14(Final), 10 April 1953. PRO: CAB 158/15. f ‘Likelihood of General War with the Soviet Union up to the End of 1955,’ JK(53)79(Final), 10 September 1953. PRO: CAB 158/16 g ‘Russian Research and Development,’ JK(54)36, 6 April 1954. PRO: CAB 158/17.

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1950

Stockpile size by mid-1950 mid-1951 mid-1952 mid-1953

10–20 25–45 45–90 70–135

1951b

45 100

a ‘The Effect of the Soviet Possession of the Atomic Bombs on the Security of the United States,’ CIA ORE 32-50, 9 June 1950. HST: PSF: Intelligence File, Box 257. b ‘Soviet Capabilities for a Military Attack on the United States Before July 1952,’ CIA SE-14, 23 October 1951. HST: PSF: Intelligence File, Box 258.

had been McMahon who had been the driving force to terminate relations with Britain in 1946 through the Atomic Energy Act (otherwise known as the McMahon Act). Furthermore, Bedell Smith highlighted the importance of these two techniques as well as the Anglo-American partnership: ‘The further narrowing of the limits of uncertainty in this field of intelligence, will continue to be a matter of prime concern and high priority effort.’95 The earliest estimates of Soviet plutonium output were formulated by the Americans at a time when the detection techniques were still in the developmental stage. Nevertheless, by mid-1951 it was felt that the Soviets had produced only between 20 percent and 30 percent of the plutonium that the Americans had by this stage. Despite the uncertainties, however, conclusions reached from other intelligence were ‘not inconsistent with this estimate of the Soviet atomic energy program.’96 The following year it was estimated that the Soviet Union had produced less than 10 percent of the amount the United States had in the period 1950–1952. This assessment meant that the American stockpile would be a factor of ten larger than the comparable Soviet one. Although the initial estimates of the Soviet programme, leading up to Joe-1, which had been based on estimates of uranium, were to be proved wrong, significance was still attached to them. The result was British and American intelligence estimates of the relative stockpile of atomic weapons the Soviet Union would have, which are displayed in Tables 2 and 3. Recent estimates of the Soviet stockpile, based on a variety of archival sources, reveal that in fact both British and American intelligence agencies

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table 4 Actual Size of the Soviet Nuclear Arsenal Year

End 1950 End 1951 End 1952 End 1953 End 1954

Number of Atomic Bombs

5 25 50 120 150

overestimated the number of weapons available to the Soviet Union, though the Americans were closer than their Atlantic counterparts (see Table 4).97 Despite having approximately similar figures to work from, British and American atomic intelligence often came up with different conclusions. The explanation behind this disparity is not immediately clear, particularly as there were frequent meetings between the two parties to discuss assessments. In considering the different conclusions, it is perhaps wise to recount the words of the British AEIU, which was bewildered at the lack of justification for the change in US estimates from year to year. From the archives, it is difficult to comprehend the exact differences because in almost all the declassified CIA estimates of the Soviet programme, the stockpile figures are blanked out. One of the first collaborative estimates, done in January 1951, indicated that the Soviet stockpile would number fifty bombs by mid-1951.98 From Tables 1 and 2, it is possible to identify that this number was approximately the figure both countries had estimated individually anyway. Despite this, however, in a note to Wilfrid Mann, Eric Welsh wrote that at this January conference ‘we [led] Bennie [Colonel Benson, head of the Nuclear Energy Group in the CIA] and Co. as lambs to the slaughter, and blew considerable holes in their latest estimate.’99 This suggests therefore that the agreed figure of fifty was closer to the original British estimate than the American one. There were further divergences of opinion the subsequent year also. The mid-1952 estimate by the Americans ‘differ[ed] appreciably’ from the British one, and it was therefore felt that at the subsequent AngloAmerican discussions there was ‘likely to be a difference of opinion.’100 By 1953 Nomination, as it was known, had become the Music Programme, which is discussed in Chapter 6. Suffice it to say, however, that joint estimates of Soviet plutonium output remained a particularly close aspect of the Anglo-American atomic intelligence special relationship. Yet from 1953 a serious difficulty emerged in the estimation of the Soviet stockpile. In August

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the Anglo-American long-range-detection network picked up the first indications of a Soviet nuclear weapon employing the fusion of light elements—a device utilising thermonuclear reactions. Therefore, it was now virtually impossible to estimate Soviet stockpiles with any degree of certainty because of the variety of weapons that could be stockpiled. This development reflected the bewilderingly complex mixture of materials released into the atmosphere as a result of the variety of types of weapons tested. Dragon Return

The value of Nomination material was greatly enhanced by additional intelligence on where the Soviet plants were located. As with the period before Joe-1, this information came courtesy of returning German scientists and prisoners of war. In addition, this information was invaluable in providing indications of the directions in which the Soviet nuclear programme was moving. Operation Dragon Return had begun in the late 1940s and was the culmination of the various earlier intelligence missions in Germany. Dragon Return was coordinated through the Scientific and Technical Intelligence Branch (STIB) of the British Intelligence Division in Germany, under the directorship of David Evans. Although Dragon Return was not limited to purely atomic-related targets, they were one of its highest priorities. TAL (the SIS arm of atomic intelligence) operations were very important in Germany, for as Evans remarked in late 1949, ‘the requirements of D.At.En. in this type of exploitation are considerable.’101 The operation involved the interrogation of Dragon Returnees—German scientists and technicians who had returned from the Soviet Union. In accordance with the earlier practice, once defectors offered their services, TAL (probably through the TCS [scientific] channel of SIS) was informed and then conducted the interrogations and processed the information. In this way there was a close working relationship between STIB, who conducted the initial Dragon Return operations, and the more specialised atomic-oriented work conducted by TAL. Dragon Return did not provide its best atomic-related information until the very senior German nuclear scientists returned in 1955, and even then its use was strictly limited (see Chapter 6), but in the period up to 1954 there were some achievements. Returning Germans were often ‘encouraged’ to provide information to Western intelligence agencies by the promise of various enticements; the East German government also attempted to bribe them into working there instead.102 Letters from Germans in the Soviet Union that had been sent to relatives in Germany but intercepted by British and American intelligence were used to provide information on which groups of scientists were set to

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return. The actual contact with the returnees was conducted initially through No. 1 Planning and Evaluation Unit—the cover name for SIS operations in Germany.103 In contrast to every other aspect of intelligence procured through STIB, atomic intelligence was dealt with on a separate basis. There was no intelligence exchange on German soil itself. British reports were sent directly to London, where they were forwarded directly to Washington; similarly, US reports were sent to Washington, where they were promptly dispatched to London. The reasoning behind such a situation was clear; as one member of Welsh’s unit described, it ‘arose out of the extreme delicacy of our situation with regard to atomic energy information. We have to be extremely careful that sensitive information supplied to us in confidence by the Americans should not, by our inadvertence, leak back to American agencies through our briefing of our own field agencies.’104 Information was also sent straight to the home of the relevant unit to ensure that raw intelligence was not directly provided without the addition of comments. Despite these complex restrictions, the Anglo-American relationship concerning Dragon Return and atomic intelligence in Germany was very good. There was an exemplary partnership in the interrogation of sources, the exchange of reports, and in particular the following up of any potential leads.105 In addition there existed a jointly operated station in Berlin, which primarily intercepted postal correspondence.106 Perhaps the one area where there were limitations on the exchange of information was Postfach 1037 (Postbox 1037, or 1037P)—the codename given to the group of scientists working under Dr Nikolaus Riehl at Elektrostahl. While the British were prepared to discuss operational aspects of the case, they did not want to exchange actual intelligence derived from individual sources.107 The exact reasoning for this specific treatment is not immediately clear, especially as it was acknowledged by STIB that ‘no American field agency has anything like the detail about 1037P which we hold.’108 In December 1952 this situation changed. The decision to alter the existing arrangements was made primarily to maintain and preserve the close collaboration.109 Although reports would continue to be exchanged between London and Washington, STIB was now allowed to directly provide its American opposite numbers in Germany with intelligence. The one aspect to remain closed, however, was ‘the operations of Technical Section’—which referred to TCS, the scientific intelligence arm of SIS.110

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How important was the information obtained at this time? As previously mentioned, the most useful intelligence through Operation Dragon Return was obtained in 1955; therefore, the primary significance of it during this period was to lay the foundations and to maintain the Anglo-American relationship. Awareness of the nature and strict compartmentalisation of the Soviet atomic programme meant that any information obtained through Dragon Return, or indeed any of STIB’s operations, could shed only partial light on Soviet activities. The limited use of Germans was explicitly recognised by the deputydirector of scientific intelligence Dr Hugh ‘Buster’Young: ‘German scientists, with very few possible exceptions, have only been employed on the fringes of that programme, and it is reasonably certain that none of them has played any leading part in it.’111 The ‘exceptions’ were the scientists who returned in 1955. Indeed, until the return of these ‘exceptions,’ a large proportion of Dragon Returnees consisted ‘of the misfits, the rejects and the low-grade mechanic and foremen type, who have exhausted their usefulness and passed on their knowledge to the Russians.’112 Despite such disclaimers, intelligence operations in Germany did provide some useful—albeit limited—information on the Soviet atomic programme. In addition to the material provided on uranium mining, British and American intelligence obtained information on the locations of numerous different aspects of the Soviet programme. The Anglo-American intercept programme was an extremely useful example of the successes of good, close collaboration between different intelligence elements. The Americans were the primary collectors of the information, while the British were responsible for detailed collation.113 Through Operation Dragon Return the Western intelligence agencies were able to gather information on the groups working under German scientists Manfred von Ardenne and Gustav Hertz at the Sukhumi location on the Black Sea. Together with reports from defecting scientists, Dragon Return provided British and American intelligence with a remarkably detailed picture of the laboratories, their uses, and the figures involved.114 An example of how this success was achieved is the painstaking effort devoted to the tracking of the Max Born group. Dr Henry Lowenhaupt, a CIA nuclear analyst at that time, later wrote that ‘some rather clever analysis by the Directorate of Scientific Intelligence in the UK’ achieved this. Intercepted letters from the Born group mentioned various details about their location without actually naming it. A careful analysis of these, including information on

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topography, climate, and scenery, provided an approximate location. Weather conditions mentioned in letters were compared to weather reports throughout the Soviet Union for that particular day. Locations thus identified could then be narrowed down to include only those with similar topographies. A letter by one participant discussing a train journey and analysis of the times between stops, taken in conjunction with the previous analysis, indicated that the site in question was, correctly, in the vicinity of Kyshtym in the Urals.115 This detection method was used to great effect in other fields also. Identifying the nature and locations of Soviet plants was necessary not only for providing intelligence but also because they would be high-priority targets in the event of war. This had been one of the initial impetuses for locating Soviet factories (see Chapter 2) and was a vital factor in linking intelligence collection with policy planners. Accordingly, detailed analyses of the plants and their locations were undertaken.116 It was known as early as 1948 that the Soviets were interested in the manufacture of heavy water. The presence of a heavy-water plant was an indication of a programme directed towards plutonium weapons; however, it was also considered necessary for a thermonuclear weapons programme. Consequently, the knowledge of the existence of the heavy-water plant caused Western intelligence to assign a high priority to obtaining further information about it.117 Intelligence from German defectors indicated that the Soviets had, in 1946, dismantled and transported the Leuna Werke—a plant designed for the fabrication of heavy water—together with its leading scientists and technicians to the Soviet Union. Analysis of such reports indicated that the Soviets could be producing up to eight tons of heavy water per year.118 British intelligence inferred this information to indicate that ‘the USSR is planning to engage in plutonium production utilising heavy-water moderated piles.’ British intelligence further felt that by mid-1950 the plant would be able to produce three tons of heavy water per month. By implication, this meant that the plant would be able to output fifty kilograms of plutonium per year.119 Interrogation of a Dragon Returnee in mid-1951 indicated that the manufacture of heavy water might have been increased in relation to the production of the hydrogen bomb.120 The Western intelligence community also assumed that the Soviet Union had been interested in the type of reactor similar to the one operated by the Americans at their Hanford plant. British and American intelligence were able to discern this through the information provided by defectors. However, the best indications came from a consideration of the intelligence that the various British atomic spies had provided to the Soviets. As a result British intelligence felt that by 1951 the Soviet Union had ‘probably two piles in operation for the production of plutonium.’121 Further information indicated that

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in addition to these two plants, the Soviets were interested in the production of uranium-235—which would have necessitated a supplementary plant. This type of plant, the British believed, would utilise gaseous diffusion.122 In this evaluation Welsh’s unit was assisted by the information of the second and third Soviet nuclear tests, which had revealed the presence of fissionable uranium. Although the Soviet nuclear weapons programme was very strictly compartmentalised, this was not as important a factor in gathering information on plant design as it was in collecting intelligence on any other aspect of the programme. A plant associated with the production of plutonium would necessarily be powered either by large supplies of water or by an associated chemical plant. Its physical shape and size would therefore be unmistakeable. Moreover, as Eric Welsh informed an audience of intelligence officers, ‘the construction of this [plutonium] plant [is] unique. . . . Any agent, even of the lowest possible grade, who has had an opportunity of seeing such a plant would be able to give us very valuable information indeed.’ In addition, a plant used for the production of U-235 would also be unique, for it would have to have a nearby power plant to supply ‘the considerable electrical power’ needed.123 In this respect, Paul Maddrell has commented on the British successes in identifying the locations of Soviet nuclear plants.124 US intelligence analyses of Soviet plants corresponded remarkably closely to British ones, and this is perhaps unsurprising given the level of collaboration between the organisations.125 To supplement interrogation reports, the United States undertook studies into the possibility of flying high-altitude balloons in an attempt to photograph the possible locations of the reactor sites. It is unclear how successful these operations were in this particular respect.126 In addition to the interrogation of returning Germans, the CIA undertook to infiltrate the Soviet plants by establishing ‘residents,’ or agents in place, through which information could be relayed back to Washington.127 It is possible that this was also the case with the British, where such missions would have been planned and run through TAL and by TCS.128 Intelligence Estimates

How did this information translate into intelligence estimates? An awareness of the amounts of raw materials being mined, together with an idea of the number of reactor sites and the amounts of plutonium produced, constituted valuable information. Yet they could provide little in the way of forecasting the direction the Soviet programme was taking. Similarly, although the longrange-detection network could provide ultimate confirmation of the testing of new techniques, what was required were estimates of the likely future course

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of Soviet development. As a consequence, British, and indeed American, intelligence remained stuck firmly in the business of recent history rather than future prediction. Joe-1 had provided the best intelligence yet on the status of the Soviet atomic programme. Followed almost immediately afterward was the arrest of Klaus Fuchs and disclosure of his espionage. Although Michael Perrin’s interrogations of Fuchs had convinced many within the British establishment of the explanation behind the Soviet Union’s premature entry into the nuclear club, Fuchs’ revelations were to have further implications regarding the production of the Soviet hydrogen bomb. The consequences of Fuchs’ treachery were to be felt far more acutely in the United States than in Britain, which was a direct consequence of the relative stages each country’s nuclear weapons programme had reached. The natural transition in nuclear weaponry was from the atomic fission bomb to the far more powerful hydrogen or thermonuclear fusion bomb. Although the British had by this stage not yet tested an atomic device, British scientists were aware of the existence of the hydrogen bomb concept. Fuchs, for instance, had been one of a few British scientists present at the 1946 Los Alamos conference, designed to consider how far calculations had progressed towards development of the fusion device. Following this conference, though, the McMahon Act had put an immediate end to further Anglo-American discussions. Fuchs’ confession to Perrin in early 1950 revealed that he had indeed passed information on the hydrogen bomb to his Soviet controllers. As he put it, Fuchs ‘described the ideas current in Los Alamos when he left on the design and operation of a super [hydrogen] bomb mentioning, in particular, the combination of fission bomb, the tritium initiating reaction and the final deuterium one.’129 Therefore, British atomic intelligence certainly knew—not least because Welsh was intimately involved in the Fuchs case—that the Soviet Union had received information on the hydrogen bomb. Remarkably, despite the various postmortem enquiries following Joe-1, surprisingly little attention seems to have been attached to this revelation. In the first estimates following Fuchs’ interrogation, no mention was made, and in fact the opposite view was more prevalent, that ‘there is no evidence that the Soviet Union is developing wholly novel [i.e., hydrogen] weapons.’130 Despite knowing that Fuchs had passed information on the hydrogen bomb to the Soviet Union, this did not play any part in British intelligence estimates of the Soviet hydrogen bomb programme. Despite British intelligence receiving information on a renewed Soviet interest in heavy water, at no point was this taken to imply a programme geared

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towards a hydrogen bomb. At the same time, although the possibility that ‘the Russians have made advances in design and efficiency of weapons’ was never ruled out, there was no evidence to confirm this.131 Indeed, in speculating about ‘future developments,’ paramount importance was placed on the capabilities of the long-range-detection network, to the extent that the JIC could note that ‘it is hoped that the results of analysis of the latest Russian tests will enable us to form an estimate of Russian progress in bomb design.’132 As stated in Chapter 4, this view corresponded with a shift in emphasis towards the longrange-detection programme as the primary indicator of Soviet progress. Why was so little emphasis placed on a possible Soviet hydrogen bomb programme? The primary reason appears to be based on predictions of the aim and direction of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme itself. Despite the fact that uranium was no longer seen as a limiting factor, Western intelligence steadfastly ‘assumed that the main purpose of the Soviet Atomic Energy programme has been to produce atomic bombs.’ Consequently, the implications of a lengthy and very complicated hydrogen bomb programme were seen as a distraction, and logically, therefore, Soviet resources would instead be utilised towards developing the fission-bomb stockpile.133 This view was still prevalent in early 1953. In their intelligence assessment of the Soviet war potential, the JIC commented that ‘we have usually assumed that their first general aim was to build up a stockpile of atomic weapons.’ At the same time it was accepted that ‘we have very little concrete information about Soviet hopes and intentions in the atomic energy field.’ The British confronted an information vacuum on this subject, and so the JIC could state only that ‘there is no evidence to date whether or not the USSR is experimenting with or making thermo-nuclear weapons.’134 In August 1953, at the Semipalatinsk test site, the Soviet Union detonated a device that, for the first time, employed thermonuclear reactions. Debris analysis of this test produced evidence of ‘a thermonuclear component’—in other words, confirmation that thermonuclear reactions had taken place—which to British intelligence indicated ‘a programme directed towards producing thermo-nuclear weapons.’ The JIC was curiously taciturn in noting that ‘we have not been put in possession of enough detail of the Russian success, and of what may have led to it, to enable us to give serious consideration to its implications, still less to draw any conclusions. We therefore merely report the event without further discussion.’135 British estimates of the Soviet hydrogen bomb were hindered by the very simple fact that once again the intelligence services, and the scientists themselves, were being asked to assess information about which they had very little (if any) firsthand knowledge. The first Soviet atomic bomb was detonated three

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years before the equivalent British weapon; similarly, the first hydrogen bomb was considerably in advance of the first British one. Indeed, even by 1954 most British atomic scientists simply did not know what a ‘hydrogen bomb’ really was.136 Despite this disadvantage, and simply not knowing how to construct such a device, by 1954 Sir William Penney and Sir John Cockcroft could confidently conclude that ‘it is not thought likely that there are bottlenecks in key materials for the Russian thermonuclear weapons programme.’137 In the aftermath of the 1953 Soviet thermonuclear test, the British did draw a tenuous link between this achievement and the information provided by Klaus Fuchs, by stressing the information he had provided on tritium and by extension the Soviet development of heavy-water piles.138 However, given the relative stages of the British and Soviet hydrogen bomb programmes, it is perhaps unsurprising that British scientists and intelligence missed the key to Fuchs’ disclosures.139 Given the advanced status of the US hydrogen bomb programme at this time, in contrast to the British, the Americans were in a far better position to assess the information Fuchs had passed to the Soviets. This was primarily because they were aware much earlier of the role Fuchs had played in their own programme. Until President Truman’s January 1950 decision to launch an allout effort to build a hydrogen bomb, Los Alamos scientists had been unable to solve the major problem plaguing development. In order to ignite the thermonuclear component of a hydrogen bomb, a very efficient fission bomb is needed. The problem was that in the immediate postwar years, not enough was known about the processes in an exploding fission bomb to comprehend the energy transfer necessary.140 After the conclusion of his calculations into the impracticality of the original super designs, Los Alamos mathematician Stanislaw Ulam began to consider how to make fission bombs more efficient. He deduced that the compression involved in the implosion fission bomb would produce a ‘bigger bang’ than using a gun-method uranium bomb. In conversations in early 1951, Edward Teller, one of Los Alamos’ leading scientists, gradually became convinced that Ulam’s system could work and proposed that the radiation escaping from the primary component of the device would offer a more efficient method of ignition, and so the fabled Teller-Ulam configuration was born.141 Where does Fuchs’ work fit into this? Recently, questions about the originality of Teller and Ulam’s designs have begun to emerge.142 In 1946 Fuchs had devised a patent with the Los Alamos mathematician John von Neumann that had been concerned with the ignition of the ‘Classical Super.’ It had suggested

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using the X-ray radiation emitted from an exploding fission device to implode the thermonuclear fuel.143 Following Truman’s announcement in January 1950, US intelligence had decided that the upcoming American nuclear weapons trials in 1951—code-named Greenhouse—should include some sort of thermonuclear experiment. While ignition of a sufficient amount of thermonuclear fuel was still unachievable at this point, the Americans thought it possible that ‘if ignitable, D-T [deuteriumtritium] could in turn ignite deuterium, thus proving in principle that the Classical Super would work.’144 The method by which the D-T mixture would be ignited was the key—it was to be achieved by using the escaping radiation from a fission device. The subsequent successful test—named the George shot—in May 1951 indicated that although the deuterium could not be propagated in the exact manner needed, in principle radiation-induced implosion worked.145 The head of theoretical physics at Los Alamos, J. Carson Mark, has recalled that Greenhouse George was a ‘rather vague scrambling together of ideas.’ Crucially, Mark continued, ‘it was the pattern that Edward had favoured. It turned out that it was very much the pattern of the [1946] Fuchs–von Neumann patent.’146 One of the most important results of the George shot was the information it provided on radiation-induced implosion. It was this information, claims Los Alamos scientist Marshall Rosenbluth, that led Teller to his elaboration of Ulam’s initial idea: ‘I can see a very clear path. The planning of the Greenhouse experiments, at least in my opinion, led Teller to the idea of radiation implosion.’147 A US Department of Defense memorandum from March 1952 clearly defined this line of progression and Fuchs’ role within it: We are informed by competent authorities, including those at Los Alamos, that Klaus Fuchs possessed . . . a full understanding of the Los Alamos thermonuclear weapon feasibility report of April 1946. As you know, this report contained all the essential ideas which led to the Greenhouse George shot in May 1951. The George shot in turn demonstrated the principle . . . which greatly increased the probability of a practical and economical thermonuclear weapon and thus precipitated our current redirected development program.148

In an attempt to integrate its knowledge of Fuchs’ espionage with intelligence estimates of the impact on the Soviet programme, the United States undertook several evaluative studies. Through the JAEIC, biannual reports were made on the Soviet atomic programme. However, an internal history of Dulles’ time as DCI is quick to emphasise that these were ‘status reports’ and not ‘estimates of future developments.’ Therefore, in contrast to the British practice, American estimates considered the present nature of the Soviet programme as opposed to providing a forecast of its subsequent course.149

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The first assessments made in mid-1950 reveal more about the status of the US programme and the constant inferences the US drew from mirror imaging its own position onto the Soviet Union than they do about the Soviet programme itself. The CIA asserted that ‘because our own programme indicates that some new approaches may be necessary before the thermonuclear weapon is practical, no valid estimate of the Soviet ability to solve the problem nor of the time required for the solution can be made.’ At the same time, however, it was now assumed—incorrectly—that the Soviets had made a decision in late 1949 to start work on a thermonuclear weapon.150 Subsequent reports, in late 1950, stressed the US position and the difficulties US officials faced in attempting to estimate Soviet progress: ‘There is considerable uncertainty as to whether or not it is physically possible to construct a thermonuclear weapon that will function satisfactorily.’ The Americans assumed, however, that such weapons were being ‘intensively investigated,’ considering that Fuchs had passed on details of thinking in 1946.151 Such sentiments were echoed precisely in later reports during 1951.152 In 1952 the process of mirror imaging continued. CIA assessments reflected the new direction thermonuclear research in the United States had taken and projected this onto the Soviet programme. They argued that ‘if the new approaches to the thermonuclear weapon problem being investigated in this country are proven feasible, the ability on the part of the USSR to produce such weapons during the period covered by this report must be recognised.’153 Remarkably, US intelligence credited the Soviet Union with the ability to construct thermonuclear weapons only once the United States had understood how to do it. Thus, the Americans never entertained the thought that although the United States could not work out how the hydrogen bomb could be constructed, the Soviet Union might be able to. Despite assumptions that the Soviet Union had begun research into thermonuclear weapons, by January 1953 the CIA still maintained that ‘although research which may be relevant has been noted, there is no evidence of thermonuclear development activities at the present time.’ The report was quick to mention, however, that this did not preclude such a development taking place.154 A further assessment, in June 1953 offered a quite different view of Soviet thermonuclear weapons development, however. While there was still no intelligence indicating Soviet development of hydrogen bombs, it had to be recognised that ‘Soviet research, development and even field testing of thermonuclear reactions based on the disclosures of Fuchs may take place by mid-1953’; this note acknowledged for the first time that Fuchs’ material held invaluable information for the Soviet thermonuclear weapons programme.155 Analysis of the August 1953 thermonuclear test correctly convinced the US

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intelligence establishment that ‘the Soviets can produce weapon types which utilise fission and thermonuclear reactions.’156 Soviet Long-Range Bomber Force

In a unique turn of events, during 1953 British and American estimates of the Soviet hydrogen bomb programme were significantly out of step. Both parties correctly surmised, however, that the key to the Soviets’ nuclear weapons programme lay in their ability to deliver the weapons to the target. The number of Soviet bombers was therefore intrinsically linked to the Soviet war potential. Thus it was felt that although the Soviets might possess sufficient atomic bombs to launch an attack, ‘this factor can only become important when the Soviet Union can deliver them effectively.’157 Consequently, it was essential for the Western powers to acquire accurate intelligence on the Soviet long-range bomber force. The realisation that the Tu-4 bomber could reach the American mainland had certainly worried some senior American policy makers. Following the detonation of Joe-1, this factor became a greater concern.158 In Britain, the situation was slightly less perturbing in the sense that the United Kingdom had been within range of Soviet bombers for some time; indeed, the unique vulnerability of the United Kingdom to atomic attack had been identified as early as the 1945 revised Tizard Report. Perhaps of more concern was the sheer quantity of Tu-4 ‘Bull’ bombers that the Western powers envisaged the Soviet Union might possess. A 1950 JIC estimate forecast that the Soviet Union could have as many as one thousand by 1954, by which time ‘improved conventional methods’ would mean that the 1954-generation bombers would have increased ranges.159 Even in the spring of 1951 the JIC was confident that the Soviet Union already had a ‘considerable number’ of such aircraft.160 At the same time, intelligence indicated that the Soviet Air Force (SAF) was increasing not only in terms of numbers but also in training and technical abilities—areas in which they were previously thought to be seriously deficient.161 Intelligence on the SAF was therefore considered critical. A 1951 review indicated that the best means of obtaining this information was through aerial reconnaissance, but as yet there was little photo coverage of bomber bases. In particular, the Western powers felt that in the event of war it would be difficult to launch an offensive against Soviet bomber bases because so little was known about their locations.162 This problem was heightened by the perceived mobility of the SAF. Perhaps as a consequence, obtaining photographic evidence on the SAF, in particular on the bases and weapon stores utilised, became ‘top priority’ for

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Britain’s highly secret programme of photo reconnaissance overflights.163 In fact, intelligence on Soviet aircraft and airfields was to remain ‘top priority’ throughout the rest of the 1950s.164 American estimates were more pessimistic than British ones. A 1951 CIA estimate forecast that the SAF already had seven hundred Tu-4s, and that within a year this figure would rise to one thousand. Reports had also been received of a new type of long-range bomber, but little information was currently available.165 In fact these estimates were fairly accurate—at the peak of its service in 1952 the Soviets had 847 Tu-4 planes. In the Soviet Union, the original Tu-4 had a nuclear-capable derivative, the Tu-4A, but this version did not actually enter service until 1954.166 Evidence of a programme directed towards developing a Soviet hydrogen bomb altered the significance of the number of Soviet bombers because fusion bombs were far more destructive than the equivalent number of fission bombs. In Britain, once more, this had less of an impact than in the United States because of the fact that even medium-range bombers taking off from the Soviet Union could reach British shores. At the same time, however, the Chiefs of Staff recognised the advances in British civil defence, arguing that the potential for withstanding an attack would also increase and would continue to do so until the Soviets had a missile capability.167 British analyses of the Soviet threat not only were based on the United Kingdom as a target, but also were predicated on the fact that any war would also involve the United States as a British ally. The JIC consequently undertook studies of the Soviet threat vis-à-vis the United States. In these studies, despite acknowledging that Soviet bombers could theoretically reach America, the JIC believed that the practical capability for such large-scale operations did not exist.168 Indeed, because of the distances involved the JIC even felt that the ‘stage when they could seriously attack the US would not occur for some 10–15 years.’169 By contrast, British planners calculated that given the relative proximity of US worldwide bases in relation to the Soviet Union, the United States had a distinct strategic advantage in any future conflict.170 Although earlier estimates had suggested that the Soviet Union would have a large number of long-range bombers, by 1954 this forecast had been revised. Indeed, it was felt that although ‘the Russians were rapidly reducing the Western lead in atomic development, it was not certain that they were making the same progress in developing the means of delivering an atomic attack.’171 By 1954 the British therefore had a fairly conservative estimate of the capabilities of the long-range Soviet bomber force. By contrast, at this stage American perceptions were beginning to show the first signs of what would become the selfinflicted ‘bomber gap’ myth.172 In Britain, the USAF’s desire to ‘skew’ estimates

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to suit its own needs had been detected early on. The matter was in fact discussed at the Joint Intelligence Committee level: For some years the USAF have been keenly concerned with obtaining the funds and authority to expand. . . . DDI who three years ago was in the USA recollects numerous occasions on which the USAF were at pains to establish the existence of the air threat to justify this expansion in the face of opposition from the Navy in particular. The USAF [has] worked hard on this, and the idea of this threat [of an ‘aerial Pearl Harbour’] has gained wide acceptance. It is likely that this idea has now become so deeply embedded in American and in particular USAF thinking that collated intelligence upon the subject is often subjective to it; it is noteworthy that the intelligence organisation of the USAF lends itself to this sort of distortion. . . . There probably [are] powerful ‘vested interests’ at work to ensure that the ‘intelligence threat’ against the USA is not reduced.173

Intelligence of a military or strategic nature can be of two types—capabilities and intentions. Information on the status and stockpile of the Soviet nuclear programme, together with material on the Soviet long-range bomber force, could indicate only the Soviet capability for war; what it could not reveal was the Soviet tactical intention to launch war. These two factors are, of course, inseparably linked, for it was felt that without either a sufficient number of bombs or enough aircraft to deliver them the Soviet Union would not start hostilities. Notwithstanding this belief, the JIC undertook studies to provide a picture for the COS of the likely Soviet path towards war and when hostilities might occur. Estimates prior to Joe-1 had consistently argued that the Soviets would not be ready to start a war before 1957. In Joe-1’s immediate aftermath, this view was continually argued and maintained. It implied that the early Soviet bomb had not altered the strategic balance, an outlook perhaps predicated on the view of Welsh’s unit that Joe-1 had not been the first bomb off the production line, but merely a test device. The Chiefs of Staff therefore felt that the Soviets would not launch an offensive until they had a sufficient number of atomic bombs. In addition, in 1950 the possibility that a British nuclear ‘Pearl Harbor’ might be attempted was also discounted, because it was felt that ‘such an attack would probably lead to early American retaliation on the Soviet Union.’ This analysis revealed an integral component of British strategic planning—Joe-1 meant the Soviets had an atomic capability whereas the British did not; therefore British preparation was continually based on the assumption that any war would involve the United States coming to Britain’s aid. In this way, the JIC concluded, possession of the atom bomb would not cause the Soviet leaders to advance their war plans.174 During 1951 the JIC considered various hypothetical Soviet war plans for the 1950s. Regardless of which plan the Soviet Union would actually adopt, it

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was felt that each one was based on utilisation of the Soviet long-range bomber force and that therefore none of them appeared to offer much chance of success without a subsequent ground invasion. However, for the first time planning appears to have been affected by the atomic bomb, and dates accordingly seem to change. Instead of a resolute assumption that war would occur in 1957, the JIC stressed that nothing could be estimated for after 1954 because not enough information was known.175 British planning was based on a presumption of immediate retaliation by the Americans in the event of a Soviet attack. Although this may have been a fair assumption, particularly given the location of a wing of the USAF Strategic Air Command—the nuclear-equipped bomber force—in East Anglia, it was realised at the same time by the COS that ‘the UK was at present being asked to gamble on the success of the US atomic attack on Russia without knowledge of what the plan was.’176 This problem was revisited by the COS in 1953, particularly regarding Britain’s ignorance as to whether the primary US bombing targets in the Soviet Union corresponded to those identified by the United Kingdom.177 Why was the year 1954 now so important? In comparison to the pre-Joe-1 situation, it appears that the decision to focus on 1954 as the year the Soviet would be ready to launch a global war was based on a mixture of intelligence estimates and the identification of a strategic window of opportunity. Reporting on a meeting of British and American military planners, Ambassador Oliver Franks recorded that in reviewing the chances of global war the one consideration that had weighed most was the question ‘why not yesterday?’ There was no denying that the chances of the Russians defeating the Allies in war had been getting progressively less as each year went on. . . . 1954 was considered a dangerous year, since the Russians could be expected to have sufficient atom bombs by then to enable them to start a war with a ‘Pearl Harbour.’ . . . Moreover, if the Russians did not start a war in 1954 or 1955 much of their conventional equipment would become obsolete, and their ammunition time expired.178

In early 1953, and with the potential date envisaged for a Soviet attack only one year away, Josef Stalin died. Although this may have been considered an important event because Stalin had been seen as a dangerous and unpredictable leader, neither British nor American intelligence saw Stalin’s death warranted a revision of Soviet strategic planning.179 The British, perhaps more so than the Americans, did, however, assume that the Soviet leadership would now be more cautious ‘in the conduct of their cold war struggle against the West.’180 By 1954, despite earlier estimates that this would be the most probable time for the Soviet Union to launch a war, British and American intelligence

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no longer felt that such a scenario was likely. In fact Western intelligence now perceived that the Soviet Union was averse to all-out war, focusing instead on subversion, and that any conflict would more likely be the result of ‘miscalculations or accident.’181 Furthermore, Western intelligence believed that even if the Soviets did decide to attack, they would have to launch a simultaneous ground attack and that therefore ‘we are likely to get some warning.’182 This belief was a calculation based on the purely logistical factors in mobilising a large army, and the impossibility of doing so without offering substantial visible indicators. In late 1949, the first Soviet nuclear explosion created significant concerns within Whitehall over the effectiveness of British atomic intelligence. Despite these concerns, Eric Welsh was able to maintain control of his organisation while resisting numerous attempts to absorb atomic intelligence into the rest of the scientific intelligence machinery. His independence was underpinned by the excellent relationship his AEIU had created—indeed resurrected—with his American opposite numbers. The long-range-detection programme, discussed in Chapter 4, helped to ensure detailed cooperation and regular exchange, which were enhanced through the related Operation Nomination. Because the Americans desired a British input into their own calculations, both sides became joint partners in what would turn out to be a useful collaboration—the Music Programme. Similarly, Anglo-American relations were strengthened by extensive collaboration in Germany, in particular in the joint planning of operations. In fact, the only major gaps in collaboration were to come in evaluations of Klaus Fuchs’ espionage and estimates of the Soviet hydrogen bomb programme. These specific gaps reflected the exigencies of the McMahon Act. Despite this hitch, relations remained exemplary, with widespread collaboration at every stage of the intelligence process. In Britain the intelligence forecasts of the early 1950s were markedly better than those of the late 1940s. This improvement had a beneficial impact on the way they were considered by both the JIC and the COS in particular. JIC estimates predicted that the Soviet Union would not risk an attack until both a sufficient number of bombs and the means of delivering them existed. Fortunately, therefore, British estimates now indicated that a Soviet intent for war matched the British capability to retaliate, and this is perhaps the primary reason why the COS adopted JIC estimates. In many respects, therefore, despite the initial uncertainties that the premature first Soviet explosion created, it did have a favourable impact on British atomic intelligence: It brought the United Kingdom and the United States

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closer together and by doing so enhanced both Welsh’s position and that of his AEIU. The foundations laid during this time were to prove invaluable, for in late 1954 atomic intelligence was moved into the Ministry of Defence. After Welsh’s sudden death, his unit continued to function with Dr Robert Press as its head. Relations with the United States continued to improve, and by 1958 the British were rewarded in two ways: The atomic intelligence organisation had become of such quality that a British-American-Soviet conference was convened in Geneva to study the cessation of nuclear testing; and the Americans dismantled the McMahon Act, enabling full technical exchange with the United Kingdom. As late as 1952 Eric Welsh had offered a mournful assessment of the achievements of his unit, remarking bluntly that ‘the intelligence services are at war with Russia and we are losing heavily in the field in which I am engaged.’183 However, by 1954, the picture was transformed. Overall performance and alliance cooperation were on an upward trajectory.

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Atomic Intelligence in the Missile Age, 1954–1958 On the Soviet side there has been the distressing advance in the atomic weapons field, in their new large long range aircraft, in their guided and ballistic missile development and in their rapid advances in electronics. These Russian developments are undoubtedly nearing betrothal and may soon be married. They must, therefore, be watched collectively. Air Vice-Marshal W.M.L. McDonald, 19551

By 1954 atomic intelligence was producing good results. In contrast to the period up to the first Soviet atomic detonation in 1949, there were good indications at this time of the size of the Soviet nuclear weapons stockpile. There was some intelligence, albeit limited, on the future path of the Soviet programme. Most important, by 1954 Anglo-American atomic intelligence collaboration had reached its most complete stage yet, limited only by the McMahon Act’s ban on the exchange of nuclear warhead design. Through the joint interrogation of Dragon Returnees in Germany; the joint evaluation of Soviet uranium; and the joint long-range-detection programme, together with the firm and effective channels of communication and discussion between atomic experts, both British and American intelligence were able to keep abreast of the latest information while also collaborating on the collection and collation of evidence on the Soviet nuclear weapons programme. Through this process the Americans were able to utilise not only British geographical resources to collect information but also British expertise in the analysis of such intelligence. For their part, the British were able to exploit the greater resources on offer by American atomic intelligence, and, perhaps of equal importance to the United Kingdom, this intimate cooperation in atomic intelligence provided a channel through which British nuclear scientists remained in contact with the American opposite numbers in the lean years before the 1958 bilateral agreement extended cooperation to include exchanges of nuclear warhead design.

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Between 1954 and 1958, British atomic intelligence, in contrast to the earlier periods, underwent major organisational change. In mid-1954 an extensive survey was conducted. Whilst the reasoning behind this was purely practical— atomic matters were to be transferred out of the Ministry of Supply—the review also served to consider the performance of Welsh and his unit as a whole. The subsequent decision to create the Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee was by no means a snub to Welsh’s power; indeed, it was a recognition of the supreme importance of atomic intelligence that Welsh had instigated within the British intelligence system. In late 1954, Eric Welsh, the indomitable head of British atomic intelligence since World War II, passed away. Although his death created only a small ripple within Whitehall, it was still a testament to the unit he had built up and the network of contacts he had created. In many respects, therefore, Dr Robert Press, his successor and another veteran of atomic intelligence, had the fortunate task of maintaining an already established and renowned organisation. After further restructuring, British atomic intelligence by 1958 was an enhanced variant of its earlier successful incarnation. Succeeding Operation Nomination was the equally improbably named Music Programme. Like Nomination, this programme was an elaborate project that assessed levels of Kr-85 to produce estimates of Soviet plutonium output. Together with the long-range-detection network, the Music Programme sustained high levels of Anglo-American collaboration. Although its importance diminished earlier in London than in Washington, Music was to provide an excellent source of information and a link to the US weapons programme. By 1958 Western intelligence had achieved success on various fronts. The contribution of atomic intelligence to international arms control and disarmament negotiations should not be overlooked. The huge technical advances made by the Anglo-American long-range-detection system enabled American, British, and Soviet experts to agree in 1958 that a test ban treaty could be effectively monitored, leading to the trilateral discussions in Geneva from 1959 to 1961. The technical advisers to the British delegation at those talks were members of the British atomic intelligence unit. The resulting test ban was spoilt only in 1961 by the ‘tsar bomb,’ a Soviet thermonuclear monster weighing in with a yield of more than 50 megatons. More important for the British was the 1958 Anglo-American bilateral treaty, putting to an end the limitations imposed by the 1946 McMahon Act. For the first time since World War II, British scientists were able to communicate freely with their American counterparts about the intricate design of nuclear weapons. The Americans, at the same time, were able to learn how the British had developed their weapons—and there were notable differences, for

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instance, in the shape of the warhead itself—so that exchange was certainly not a one-way street. The British had also developed some much more costefficient variants of American techniques. The period also signified the emergence of the Soviet intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) as a threat to Western security. The subsequent perceived marriage of Soviet missilery with the nuclear weapons programme was to signal a new stage in the means and formulation of intelligence on the Soviet capability to wage war. The increased significance of estimating Soviet ICBM developments brought to the fore once more the importance of signals and electronic intelligence, perhaps the areas previously most conspicuously absent in intelligence collection on Soviet strategic weapons. The Daniel Report and the Reorganisation of British Atomic Intelligence

Perhaps unique among Britain’s many secret organisations, atomic intelligence in 1954 very much resembled its initial configuration at the end of the Second World War. Despite the constant and continual attempts by figures outside atomic intelligence to reform both Welsh and his organisation, the Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit (AEIU) remained intact. In 1954 the whole of the AEIU was to be thoroughly evaluated, yet importantly this was not as a result of either Welsh’s control, or its setup, or its performance record; instead it was the corollary of wider reorganisation. By 1953 plans were under way within Whitehall to create the Atomic Energy Authority (AEA), a new body that would subsume the Ministry of Supply’s civil atomic responsibilities. The committee that met to discuss such organisational issues was led by Viscount Waverley (Sir John Anderson), who had been involved in atomic matters since the war. One significant conclusion reached by the Waverley Committee was that the new AEA should not be responsible for atomic intelligence, though significantly its scientists would be available for consultative purposes. By September 1953, therefore, the question was raised as to where the atomic intelligence unit should reside.2 In attempting to identify a new home for the atomic intelligence unit, the links between it and the activities of the Ministry of Defence offered an unambiguous pointer.3 Sir Frederick Morgan, the Controller for Atomic Energy within the Ministry of Supply and himself a military man, recommended to the Ministry of Defence that the ideal solution would be the creation of a highlevel committee that would be able to advise the Chiefs of Staff directly.4 It was envisaged that such a committee would reside within the MoD, yet it could not and should not be coordinated through the JIC.5 This arrangement sits

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awkwardly with the ideas advanced in the recent work of Sir Percy Cradock, who sees the JIC as the final arbiter of all intelligence. While this assertion may be true in broad terms, the creation of stovepipes or channels certainly took specialist forms of intelligence away from the JIC, not only on atomic matters but also later on Northern Ireland and economic matters.6 As a result of such recommendations, and given their role as the effectual overseers of the JIC, the Chiefs of Staff in December 1953 called for an extensive evaluation of the current atomic intelligence organisation. The recently retired naval officer Admiral Sir Charles Daniel was chosen to conduct the review. Daniel’s remit included making recommendations regarding the nature and composition of the future atomic intelligence organisation—in many respects, therefore, it was similar to the 1947 study conducted in the United States by Admiral Sidney Souers (see Chapter 1).7 The Daniel Report, as it became known, was an extremely thorough review. In reaching his conclusions, Daniel received written communiqués and conducted interviews with all the leading figures involved with atomic intelligence, ranging from its head, Eric Welsh, to his primary antagonist, the Director of Scientific Intelligence, R.V. Jones. In fact, in his initial terms of reference, Daniel was forewarned of the hostility between Welsh and Jones. Daniel also received information from Sir William Penney and Sir John Cockcroft, the respective heads of the military and civil aspects of atomic energy and both heavily involved in atomic intelligence, as well as the heads of SIS and the armed services’ intelligence agencies. The Daniel Report was first discussed in a collection of documents published in 1998, although it was mistakenly identified as the ‘Davies Report.’8 The report was and still is extremely significant, for not only did it consider the fortunes of atomic intelligence since the war, but special attention was given to the role played by Eric Welsh—a figure whose capabilities have often been called into question. Before considering Daniel’s conclusions, therefore, it is necessary to see how they were reached by consulting the wide range of information and views presented to him. Sir Charles Daniel’s initial considerations were over the current status of atomic intelligence. The AEIU, as previously mentioned, was unchanged in stature since its inception. Although individuals within the unit had changed, its charismatic head had not. In outlining his organisation to Daniel, Eric Welsh was quick to emphasise the specific peculiarities inherent to atomic intelligence. As a result, Welsh concluded of his organisation, that it ‘demands different treatment from more conventional forms of intelligence gathering.’ This assertion undoubtedly was a defence against the repeated calls to merge

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atomic intelligence with the rest of scientific intelligence—a struggle that Welsh had often felt he was losing. Welsh further defended this special position by stressing that his unit had remained within the MoS primarily to ensure close contact with British atomic scientists. In defending the performance of the AEIU in general, Welsh emphasised the group’s close relationship with the Americans, mentioning that interaction was such that ‘long-range detection and collection have become a joint affair.’9 Although, as far as his testimony to Daniel was concerned, Welsh did not criticise Jones and the Directorate of Scientific Intelligence (DSI) per se, in private Welsh regarded them as ‘deadbeats’ who ‘did not have a clue about intelligence.’10 By contrast, R.V. Jones maintained that the rightful home for atomic intelligence was within the Directorate of Scientific Intelligence. As previously discussed, Jones had been recalled personally by Churchill to reform the failing scientific intelligence organisation. Upon receiving Daniel’s recommendations that the two units should remain separate, Jones stuffily retorted that his ‘Directorate may not survive your criticism.’ In conclusion, Jones, in a tone indicative of his subsequent resignation, concluded that ‘if I have read your report correctly, and if you are right, I must be very, very wrong in my own conclusions.’11 As it would turn out, however, the testimonies of other senior civil servants and scientists involved would not only confirm Welsh’s position, but would do so in quite vivid clarity. Eric Welsh effectively wore two hats in his position as head of the AEIU. His overt role lay within the Ministry of Supply and therefore under the overall command of Sir Frederick Morgan. His covert existence was through SIS, which provided him with a direct line of access to its chief, Major General John Sinclair, more commonly referred to as ‘C.’12 Although Sinclair’s view of Welsh is not yet open to public inspection, Morgan’s is. In his evaluation of the AEIU, Morgan was quite unequivocal in his opinion: The peculiar virtue of this small body of people lies in its leader, Lieutenant Commander Eric Welsh, who is not only a natural born genius of precisely the type required for the work in hand but who has, over the years, built-up a truly astonishing network of personal contacts up to the highest, not only in this country but in the United States of America and in Canada. . . . The ramifications of Commander Welsh’s activities are world wide and he seems able to command the services of practically anyone.

In offering his opinion of the past record of Welsh’s Unit, Morgan maintained that ‘considering the enormous difficulties of obtaining secret intelligence on any target in Russia, the results we have obtained on atomic energy are comparatively good.’ Thus, in making his recommendations to Daniel, Morgan concluded that ‘it could be disastrous to British Atomic Intelligence if

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Welsh’s background, experience or contacts in this subject were lost.’13 In these bold statements, Morgan’s experienced views offered a resounding rebuttal to R.V. Jones’. However, Morgan continued, ‘Here is a key man if ever there was one which is partly, of course, a matter for congratulation but also a grave potential source of weakness.’14 In this Morgan had identified the primary concern of those asked to offer their opinions on Welsh: that no one was totally clear on what Welsh spent his money on or what precisely he did—this was certainly also the view expressed by William Penney.15 In fact, Claud Wright, the Assistant Secretary to the Minister for Defence, warned Daniel that Welsh ‘serves too many masters,’ and that ‘in the political and negotiating fields his influence is probably very dangerous and he must be brought under control.’ In his briefing, Daniel was also informed that part of the problem he would face in his evaluation was the fact that Welsh ‘insist[ed] on treating the whole of AEI as a special mystery.’16 One explanation for this mysticism was recently given by a former member of the AEIU, who emphasised Welsh’s ‘feminine instinct,’ and how he ‘had a feeling about something and followed it.’ This was put more powerfully once more by Morgan, who commented on how Welsh’s ‘training and common sense tell him where to plant the goods and so far this seems to have been done with remarkable accuracy.’17 In Penney’s opinion, despite the fact that Welsh operated relatively at large, the existing setup should be maintained particularly, in his view, because the DSI was too weak.18 Not only did this offer an unambiguous refutation to Jones and his views regarding atomic intelligence, but it did so to Jones himself as Director of Scientific Intelligence. Notwithstanding the concerns over Welsh’s influence, the other major consideration was the simple fact that he was not a scientist.19 Accordingly, it was recommended to Daniel by Sir Frederick Brundrett, the Chief Scientific Adviser in the MoD, that Welsh be put in charge of collection responsibilities—primarily because of his range of contacts and his excellent relations with ‘C’—with Penney and Cockcroft in charge of collation.20 Sir Charles Daniel transmitted his report to the Chiefs of Staff in early 1954.21 In his conclusions, Daniel was quick to emphasise the successes of the current organisation, especially its links with the American atomic intelligence components and its responsibilities for collection and for technical assessment. At the same time, Daniel maintained that Welsh’s rather gregarious position should be brought under more control. However, the major conclusion Daniel reached in his consideration of the current organisation was that its separation from scientific intelligence was

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correct. Indeed, Daniel went so far as to mention that ‘in present circumstances inevitably something would be lost if the existing AEIU were to be placed in the Directorate of Scientific Intelligence.’ Despite this verdict, Daniel concurred with the view that a supra-AEIU body be created that would oversee atomic intelligence. In this way it was recommended that atomic intelligence be brought closer to the rest of defence intelligence, at the same time ensuring that the good relations and network that Welsh had created would not be jeopardised. In making recommendations for the future of the organisation, Daniel outlined his plans for an atomic intelligence committee, comprising the Chairman of the JIC, ‘C,’ the Director of the Joint Intelligence Bureau, the Director of Scientific Intelligence, and the Directors of Harwell and Aldermaston. The committee would meet under the chairmanship of Brundrett, and although Welsh would not be a permanent member, he would be invited whenever necessary. Working directly underneath the committee would be Welsh’s unit, which despite the discussions was to continue in much the same guise as it had previously done. The Daniel Report was passed to both the JIC and the Chiefs of Staff for consultation. Significantly, while both agreed to its recommendations, the one major change was the removal of the Director of Scientific Intelligence from the committee. The JIC, under Patrick Dean, while agreeing to the creation of the committee, felt that eventually its responsibilities should be subsumed into the JIC. Undoubtedly this was a reaction to the erosion of the JIC as the supreme committee on intelligence. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Hugh Young, the acting head of scientific intelligence in the wake of Jones’ resignation, was perturbed by both the continuation of atomic intelligence as a separate entity from his body and the creation of another committee. As in the case of the JIC, the DSI reaction may have been antipathetic: the new atomic intelligence committee would detract from the worth of the existing Joint Technical Intelligence Committee, located within the DSI. In contrast, Daniel’s recommendations were deemed appropriate by the other key figures involved, including Penney; Cockcroft; Brundrett; Sir Rhoderick McGrigor, the Chief of Staff; Major General Boucher, representing the service directors of intelligence; and, significantly, John Sinclair (‘C’), particularly as Welsh was to retain his covert SIS role.22 Having agreed on the new organisation, the Chiefs of Staff passed their recommendations to Viscount Alexander, the Minister of Defence. In doing so they suggested that ‘the Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit should become part of the organisation of the Ministry of Defence but should remain for the time being a separate entity under the direct authority and command of a small

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committee.’ This committee, with the exception of the Director of Scientific Intelligence, was a reaffirmation of Daniel’s visualisation.23 In stature and composition the proposed committee was similar to the full Joint Intelligence Committee, yet it was skewed towards its subject. As a result, full members included Brundrett as chairman, the Chairman of the JIC, the Chief of SIS, the Director of JIB, the Directors of intelligence for the three armed services, the Directors of AWRE and AERE, and the MoD’s Scientific Advisor on Intelligence. According to its terms of reference, the new committee had the job of considering ‘what machinery is necessary to ensure adequate control over the effort put into Atomic Energy Intelligence, both in terms of the programme laid down and with due regard to effort on other forms of intelligence.’ The role of the new committee was therefore to oversee the work of Welsh’s unit, but it was also a means to strengthen the links between atomic intelligence and other, related forms of information. This would prove to be a fortuitous development with the launch of Sputnik a few years later. Working under the full committee was a subcommittee, comprised of Brundrett as chairman, Penney, Cockcroft, Cherwell, and Wright as secretary. Cherwell had been added at the last minute at the personal behest of Churchill, who wanted to be kept abreast of developments.24 This subcommittee served the larger committee, but significantly had ‘at its disposal’ Welsh whenever necessary. In its terms of reference, the subcommittee was described as being responsible for ‘the necessary scientific and technical assessments’ for the main committee, yet the main difference was that no details of how conclusions were reached would be passed to the larger body. In this way a tiered approach was adopted for British atomic intelligence: methods of collection would not be discussed outside the AEIU; scientific analyses were deliberated at subcommittee level; and only the final conclusions were transmitted to the full committee. In this way it reflected the system adopted for the JIC—and operated at the same level—yet it dealt specifically with atomic intelligence.25 The Atomic Energy Intelligence Working Party and the Death of Eric Welsh

As a result of the Daniel Report, in May 1954 Eric Welsh and the Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit were transferred into the Ministry of Defence. This new overt existence became the Technical Research Unit (TRU); at the same time the covert SIS aspects remained known as TAL—Technical Atomic Liaison. Concurrently an overseeing Sub-Committee on Atomic Energy Intelligence was created, also within the Ministry of Defence. Both the TRU and the new

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subcommittee were therefore under the overall charge of Viscount Alexander, the Minister of Defence.26 Despite the wide-ranging support for the continued separation of atomic and scientific intelligence, in the aftermath of the Daniel Report, Hugh Young of the DSI continued to harangue the MoD about the decision.27 As a consequence of their failure to absorb atomic intelligence, the Directorate of Scientific Intelligence—with the permission of the JIC—undertook to set up its own, somewhat analogous, arrangement to the new Sub-Committee on Atomic Energy Intelligence. This step formed part of a wider decision to transfer the Directorate of Scientific Intelligence out of the Ministry of Defence and install it in the Joint Intelligence Bureau—a move that happened in September 1954. The JIB, which since its founding in 1946 had been concerned primarily with economic and topographical intelligence, was now split into two to incorporate the Division of Scientific Intelligence.28 The head of the new Division of Scientific Intelligence was Hugh Young, a veteran of the campaign against Welsh and atomic intelligence.29 Located within his organisation was the new Atomic Energy Intelligence Working Party. According to its terms of reference, this group had the task of studying ‘the application of atomic energy to Soviet military purposes and weapon techniques.’ However, given that the working party ultimately had to be approved by the COS, an operational overlap with the new Sub-Committee on Atomic Energy Intelligence was inevitable. Accordingly, its terms of reference emphasised that the former was to ‘complement’ the latter.30 In fact, despite common characteristics, the slight differentiation between both groups was an excellent move, bridging the gap between atomic and scientific intelligence. Whereas Welsh’s unit would retain control over atomic intelligence, the new working party would consider the applications of such intelligence to other Soviet modes of warfare. While this arrangement, in principle, would have resolved many of the arguments over control, the new working party specifically excluded any member of Welsh’s Technical Research Unit—much as the subcommittee excluded any members of the DSI. Crucially, the working party lacked any authority to implement requirements for the collection of intelligence.31 Despite such problems, Sir Frederick Brundrett agreed to the creation of the new working party.32 In November 1954, Eric Williams (who had previously worked as a scientific adviser to both the Admiralty and Air Ministry) was appointed the first scientific adviser on intelligence to the Ministry of Defence.33 This appointment may have helped ease relations between the atomic and scientific intelligence units, for in January 1955 the Chairman of the Working Party on Atomic Energy, George Turney (who had previously worked on scientific matters

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within Naval Intelligence), approached the TRU asking for assistance in providing ‘factual information.’34 Certainly until this point there had been very little collaboration and exchange of information between Welsh and the DSI, with DSI requests often turned down.35 It is not clear whether this request was granted or not, though an appeal for information from Young in 1956 to the TRU suggests a persistent overriding formality in relations.36 Born in 1897, Eric Welsh had begun to suffer the first signs of ill health in 1941. Detection of the first Soviet atomic detonation in August 1949 had resulted in Welsh’s swift Atlantic flight to Washington to discuss the implications of Joe-1. While he was there, the ‘strain’ had proved ‘too great’ for him, and in September 1949 he suffered a heart attack. In his memoirs, Wilfrid Mann, Welsh’s representative in the United States, commented that the attack was not too severe.37 The seriousness of the attack was not immediately clear, however—in London, Welsh’s secretary, Julia Alloway, recorded the event in a letter to Sam Goudsmit, the wartime scientific head of the Alsos Mission: ‘You will remember when I saw you I said that he was not very well. The doctors took a more serious view, and diagnosed coronary thrombosis and prophesised death; this week they say indigestion and a long life!’38 Welsh was flown back to the United Kingdom by the US Air Force. An intensely private individual, Welsh was keen to maintain an aura of mystery about his role in government. He must have been shocked initially, therefore, to discover that while he was in transit back to the United Kingdom, a newspaper article appeared in England discussing how a ‘Mystery Navy man flies home on a stretcher.’ Fortunately the article continued, ‘To all questions officials replied that the Commander’s name could not under any circumstances be disclosed and that he came under the category of “top secret.” ’39 After recovering from his heart attack, Welsh was back at work by November 1949. Despite suffering from recurring bouts of ill health, he continued working.40 Known to many as a keen drinker, by mid-1954 he had started to have ‘difficulty in keeping himself on his feet.’41 On Sunday, 21 November 1954, Eric Welsh died from a heart attack. His death certificate lists ‘alcoholism’ as a cause, a problem it seems he had suffered from for some time. In keeping with his sense of secrecy, only the briefest of obituaries appeared in The Times, listing his awards but not mentioning his work or why he had received them.42 Julia Alloway wrote to many of Welsh’s contacts in Whitehall and Washington to inform them of the news.43 Tributes to Welsh and his work quickly followed. Wilfrid Mann described him as one of the ‘outstanding secret intelligence officers of the middle decades of this century.’44 Goudsmit, who had worked with Welsh during the war and who had remained in contact,

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remarked that ‘few people would understand how great a loss it is. . . . No one can take his place.’45 Although there was a delay of a few months, Welsh was eventually replaced by Dr Robert Press, who since 1951 had been his representative in the United States. John McNab, an existing member of TRU, became Press’ deputy. Replacing Press in Washington was Welsh’s former deputy, Robert Snelling. Interestingly, throughout his tenure, Press was to keep a copy of the Daniel Report locked in his safe.46 The Technical Research Unit at this time— as it had been in its AEIU days and as it would continue to be—was a relatively small outfit. It was split into three operative sections: (1) three scientific staff members comprising physicists and chemists who worked with Aldermaston and Harwell to both provide targets for intelligence collection and collate received information; (2) two or three staff seconded from GCHQ, including at least one fluent Russian speaker, who would liaise with the signals intelligence outfit to indicate objectives and ensure that information reached the unit; and finally (3) a small number of RAF personnel, designed to instruct RAF units as to debris collection. In addition there were a number of secretaries. Working in unison, though restricted in their contacts to the director and deputy-director of TRU, was the SIS arm of atomic intelligence, Technical Atomic Liaison (TAL). This was a ‘Requirements Division’ within SIS, though notably it was kept separate from the rest of scientific intelligence within SIS, otherwise known as TCS.47 TAL had three main tasks: firstly, to ensure that TRU requirements were conveyed to SIS, who after all were responsible for the collection of much of the intelligence; secondly, to coordinate and run the ground stations involved in the long-range-detection programme, as well as the covert collection of samples; and finally, to preserve and extend contacts with their American counterparts in the CIA, Atomic Energy Commission, and US Air Force. This work was assisted by the role of the atomic intelligence liaison in the United States—therefore, Mann, Press, and now Snelling were also parttime SIS officers. At this time—the mid-1950s—Snelling’s office at the British embassy in Washington was staffed by SIS, though it was kept entirely separate from the main SIS contingent. In addition, there was an American liaison officer (nominally CIA) operating within the TRU in London. Through TRU/TAL links, therefore, British intelligence had direct lines of communication with SIS, GCHQ, Aldermaston, Harwell, and the American atomic intelligence organisations. In addition, through its new location within the MoD, it was able to provide a clearer line of transition to the Chiefs of Staff and policy makers. All these factors were to prove to be crucial.

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Operation Dragon Return and Overflights

The programme for interrogating German scientists, technicians, and prisoners of war who had worked in the Soviet Union had begun immediately after the Second World War. Though not concerned solely with atomic matters, this programme represented the highest priority for both British and American intelligence. Friction between the Scientific and Technical Intelligence Branch (STIB) in Germany and the atomic intelligence unit under Eric Welsh had been effectively resolved by the early 1950s, which had had a direct impact on the sharing of information with US atomic intelligence. In the period up to 1949, STIB had provided much of the intelligence on the Soviet nuclear weapons programme. STIB also assisted in the defection of Icarus in the early 1950s, yet despite these successes it never realised the ambitions those in Whitehall had envisaged for the unit. One of the main Western preoccupations was Operation Dragon Return, the programme concerned with interrogating returning Germans. Although Dragon Return provided a mass of information, much of it was rather limited in the nuclear sphere. It was known that the Soviets had forcibly evacuated many leading German nuclear scientists from Germany to the USSR during and immediately after the war, and in the mid-1950s some of these scientists were returned to the West. Although, the repatriation of these scientists seemed to offer an intelligence feast to the West, the Soviets had ensured that by the time these scientists were allowed to leave the USSR, a cooling-off period of a number of years had passed during which they had worked in nonsecret areas. This ensured that any information that could be provided was already out of date. By the mid-1950s, when the leading scientists were returned to their homeland, Anglo-American intelligence relations in Germany had reached the heights of full collaboration long established in other fields. To complement the activities of STIB in Operation Dragon Return, the United States initiated the Returnee Exploration Group within the CIA.48 Given the relative importance of the scientists returning from the Soviet Union, every effort was made to ensure the fullest collaboration in their interrogation.49 Despite the absorption of STIB into the Joint Intelligence Bureau in late 1955, relations with the United States continued to remain good and links were forged with other elements of American intelligence in Germany, including the CIA group working under General Gehlen, who referred to Dragon Return as ‘Projekt Hermes.’50 What information was uncovered about the Soviet programme at this time? The flow of Germans, primarily PoWs, continued, and they provided further information on the location and composition of Soviet plants involved in the

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nuclear programme. One PoW, for instance, Harry Dittko, provided information on the site near Cheliabinsk, in particular that it had been constructed underneath a lake.51 Of more importance were those scientists working at Postfach 1037—the group, otherwise referred to as ‘1037(P),’ of scientists working under Dr Nikolaus Riehl at Elektrostahl, outside Moscow. Riehl had been taken to the Soviet Union in 1945 and by all accounts had been the most important German working on the Soviet atomic programme, having received a Stalin Prize for his efforts. Throughout his time in the East, Riehl was employed at Elektrostahl, working on the enrichment and fabrication of uranium. He finished work in 1953 and in 1955 was permitted to leave the Soviet Union. Riehl was allowed to travel to East Germany and thence to East Berlin, where, in his words, ‘[the] family packed their belongings in suitcases and quietly crossed to West Berlin and freedom.’52 Paul Maddrell has commented that this escape was assisted by British intelligence, though no direct information supports such a conviction.53 Dr Nikolaus Riehl was interrogated numerous times from mid-1955 onwards. Present at these sessions was Peter Kelly, a Russian linguist and member of the Technical Research Unit, as well as other members of British and American intelligence. Riehl provided ample material on the organisation of the Soviet programme, having been the only foreign individual allowed any kind of access, mainly because of his fluency in Russian. At the same time, Riehl’s contact was strictly limited—his main knowledge was restricted to the various centres where Germans had been involved. He discussed many of the leading personalities in the programme—scientific, military, and civilian— though by this time most, if not all, would have been known to Western intelligence. Riehl could add little information of value after 1953, as his involvement with ‘secret’ work had ended by then.54 The value of Dragon Return at this time was therefore purely retrospective. By the time they reached the West, returning Germans, by virtue of the cooling-off period they had been subjected to, were out of touch with Soviet developments. Such information as they could provide merely served to confirm or deny existing assumptions.55 At this stage, the British and American intelligence organisations were also receiving information through a secret tunnel that had been dug beneath Berlin to intercept telephone landlines, and which corroborated and elaborated upon much that the German scientists said.56 The success of an organisation such as STIB and the information it provided should be weighed against the fact that one of its senior figures—Frank Bossard—was later to be uncovered as a Soviet spy. Bossard was recruited by SIS in the mid-1950s and was sent to the British embassy in Germany. Given

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his technical background, Bossard was integrated into Dragon Return and was involved in the questioning of returning German scientists from the Soviet Union. In late 1958 Bossard returned to the United Kingdom, where he joined the Joint Intelligence Bureau.57 Bossard was arrested in 1965. Despite officially admitting that he had been recruited by the Soviets in 1961, it has been alleged that his espionage career included his time in Germany.58 It is difficult to verify exactly what information Bossard had access to; however, he was a significant figure within STIB. When in late 1955 David Evans, the head of STIB, was to return to Britain, Bossard was to temporarily take over.59 A good indication of his seniority is the fact that upon his capture, the Joint Intelligence Committee convened a special working party to investigate his treachery.60 Dragon Returnees, as they became known, did supply some useful information. By providing details of uranium mines and mining techniques, they enabled US intelligence to increase its estimates of Soviet stocks of the raw material. This information was so significant that it was that felt previous estimates should be multiplied by a factor of four. Interestingly, though the Americans shared this information with their Atlantic allies, the British did not significantly alter their estimates.61 To provide further information on the location of Soviet plants, various aerial reconnaissance missions were undertaken. The exact whereabouts of such plants was vital, as they would be primary targets in the case of war, but also as detailed analysis could provide some clues as to production levels.62 Overflights were also important for discerning information on Soviet bomber forces, particularly in terms of locations and quantities of aircraft.63 In fact, the Soviet nuclear programme was the ‘principal intelligence concern’ for British aerial reconnaissance at this time.64 Canberra aircraft were similarly used to provide intelligence that could be used to provide flight paths for V-bombers in the case of war.65 RAF and USAF aircraft were also utilised to provide intelligence on Soviet defences. By flying along the Soviet periphery, planes were able to monitor the Soviet air defences ‘springing into action,’ thereby providing clues as to their capabilities.66 These electronic intelligence missions, or ELINT flights, were referred to as ‘radio proving flights’ in the United Kingdom and ‘ferret flights’ in the United States.67 They also provided good information on the performance of Soviet radar. Techniques utilised during these flights, which were already under way by 1952, were to prove vital for the telemetric monitoring of Soviet missile tests a few years later.68 By the mid-1950s, however, information on, for example, the construction

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of atomic plants was no longer the primary target for British or American intelligence.69 Of more significance was an awareness of the Soviet rates of raw material production, as this would reveal something of the size of the Soviet stockpile of nuclear weapons. The key to this information was the Music Programme, and its increased value may have had something to do with the lack of any alternate good intelligence on the Soviet programme. The Music Programme

During the early 1950s, the British atomic intelligence unit began various operations that drew it and the United States much closer together. Of these, perhaps the strongest was the joint long-range-detection programme. A component strand of this was Operation Nomination, an elaborate plan that had begun in the late 1940s to collect samples of worldwide krypton gas. One particular isotope of this gas, krypton-85, was produced only in nuclear explosions and the fabrication of plutonium. Therefore, by calculating the levels produced in the West, British and American intelligence agencies were able to arrive at figures for the Soviet production of plutonium. This calculation was vitally important because knowing how much plutonium the Soviets had allowed the Western powers to approximate how many atomic bombs they might have. Operation Nomination was a resounding success, for it allowed intelligence estimates to stand on firmer foundations; at the same time, however, the British and American assessments of the Soviet stockpile differed; importantly though, this discrepancy did not dampen relations. In 1953 Nomination ended and the Music Programme began. Why this change of title occurred is not clear; perhaps it was a result of the disclosure of Nomination in an article by Chapman Pincher (see Chapter 5). Alternatively, the change may have reflected the added task of using the collection of radioactive debris to analyse Soviet weapons development, and not just as a tool for predicting stockpile levels. As had been the norm throughout Operation Nomination, there were regular Anglo-American meetings to discuss the Music Programme and to analyse and compare its results and interpretations. In particular, these meetings were a forum in which both sides would present their calculations of Soviet plutonium output and the subsequent stockpile estimates. In a memorandum to the Minister of Defence, Harold Macmillan, Sir Frederick Brundrett outlined the Music Programme and noted that a planned Anglo-American conference for late 1954 had been postponed by the United States. He recorded that this was a ‘sorry tale.’70 Richard Aldrich has recently written how this note was evidence that ‘by January 1955 Anglo-American atomic intelligence co-operation had

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reached a crisis.’71 However, here he is missing the point of Brundrett’s statement. The ‘sorry tale’ did not refer to the status of Anglo-American atomic intelligence relations at all, but to the fact that by early 1955 serious doubts and concerns had arisen within the British establishment as to the worth of the Music Programme. These reservations were not to reappear for another two years, however, by which time they would be more seriously considered within Whitehall. As Brundrett had stated in his January memo, the Americans had postponed the conference in order to get new legislation through Congress, which they finally achieved in June 1955. The British had initially been very sceptical as to whether the legal revisions would in fact cover the Music Programme, but in the event their concerns were unnecessary.72 The new Anglo-American agreement included collaboration and exchange of data on new areas, including the long-range detection of Soviet tests, of which Music was a component. Subsequently, the Anglo-American Music conference was held at Harwell over four days in late July and early August 1955.73 It is likely that given the overwhelming value that the Americans attached to the results of Music, the British decision to continue involvement was a political one. A mid-1956 Anglo-American conference further enhanced relations, resulting in a revision of previous British estimates of the Soviet stockpile.74 How in practice did the Music Programme work? As in the case of the rest of the long-range-detection programme, samples were collected through a variety of ground stations and airborne collection sampling missions. In this way, once more, Britain could offer the United States not only the benefits of scientific analysis but also utilisation of outposts within the British Commonwealth that would otherwise have been inaccessible to the Americans. In return, the United States could offer far more resources, so that they would undertake the majority of sampling missions. Additionally, of course, they were able to provide invaluable scientific expertise. Both these aspects were crucial to the British programme. The British sampling programme for Music was conducted through TRU and TAL and was to an extent run in unison with the Health Physics Division at Harwell. Ground samples were collected at various locations, one within the United Kingdom and five overseas.75 The locations of these stations reveal just how crucial the British Commonwealth was to atomic intelligence and AngloAmerican relations. Within the United Kingdom, samples were taken at Wembley in London. Outside of Britain they were collected in the Shetland Islands; Negombo in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka); Eastleigh in Equatorial Africa (now

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Kenya); Mauritius in the Indian Ocean; and Chakea in New Zealand.76 What is fascinating to consider is that a study of the locations of British diplomatic outposts around the world reveals that these stations were located in the approximate area of the British High Commission.77 It is not clear whether the host governments were informed, but it would appear unlikely. A further, albeit rather more limited, technique was the request that all SIS secretaries, whenever holidaying in Europe, collect as many pinecones as possible so that they could be analysed for traces of radioactive materials.78 Despite this alternative approach, the primary method of collecting debris was through sampling flights. These flights were flown primarily from locations in Australia and were code-named Operation Unsparing. One problem that the Technical Research Unit consistently faced was financial—as every operation was coordinated with another government department, there was continual friction over fiscal responsibility. Utilising RAF resources for the flying of such collection missions was an expensive business. Accordingly, plans were made with Harwell to combine missions. The Health Physics Division at Harwell was concerned with the stratospheric collection of radioactive samples for monitoring fallout rates and patterns. However, with the addition of more filters, the TRU was able to utilise these flights to collect a variety of samples. Between 1955 and 1957, the TRU was able to make use of seven specially adapted Canberra aircraft based in the United Kingdom. However, of far more importance to the Music Programme was the detachment of RAF planes and personnel working in Australia. During World War II, 542 Squadron had been operational but had been disbanded soon afterward. It was briefly re-formed in May 1954 as a photographic reconnaissance unit but was once more disbanded in October 1955, only to be resurrected the following month. In November 1955, 542 Squadron was amalgamated with RAF Detachment 1323 to form a new unit designed to fill the COS requirement for nuclear sampling, nominally located within Bomber Command. From December 1955, the squadron was based at Westonzoyland in Somerset, from where it was despatched to Australia.79 This Australian component of the Music Programme, Operation Unsparing, was operated primarily from the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) base at Laverton. The squadron was composed of Canberra aircraft—the B2 variation was utilised for ‘filtering’ operations, whereas the B6 was used for ‘bottling.’80 Filtering operations were primarily for the collection of debris following a Soviet nuclear test. For the Kr-85 sampling missions, the Canberras had built into the bomb bay a compressor that was fed with engine air and blew samples into a special bottle.81 Secrecy surrounding such missions was extremely high. The Australian Air Force bases, where such missions were flown from, were never

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informed as to the nature or aim of the detachment. Consequently, the returning Canberra would be taxied into a hangar, and there all extraneous material was removed to ensure the aircraft would resemble ordinary bombers. In fact, the cover story was purveyed that the squadron was involved in meteorological reconnaissance. Analyses of the samples were conducted through Aldermaston. Once samples had been collected, the gas bottle was flown to RAF Cardington in Bedfordshire. These bottles were then transported in special, anonymous-looking plain green trucks that were fitted with extra fuel tanks so that the driver need never stop at a petrol station.82 The samples themselves were refrigerated at extremely low temperatures in order to separate Kr-85 from the other components present in air. In this way Harwell assisted the TRU in providing the scientific capability for Kr-85 collection, whereas Aldermaston carried out the scientific analysis and assessment. In order to consider the results of Music Programme, it is necessary to understand the scale on which it operated. Commencing in late 1955, in addition to the five modified Canberra B2s operating from the United Kingdom, regular flights were flown from RAAF bases by four Canberra B6s to collect samples of Kr-85. Within Operation Unsparing, there were various smaller operations, each with a different code name and different objectives.83 Operation Rakish was a joint sampling mission by 542 Squadron and by ‘maritime aircraft,’ which between mid-1956 and mid-1957 involved 325 hours of flying time. Such flights were flown on a relatively irregular basis, unlike those of the other operations.84 Operation Teaparty sampled gas at heights ranging from twenty-five thousand feet to forty-seven thousand feet, and over the same time period comprised 606 flying hours. Operation Novice was a smaller mission, limited to 120 hours of flying, and was geared towards the experimental development of equipment. The purely Harwell Health Physics flights were called Operation Baccy.85 The cost of maintaining the UK-based and Australian-based sampling missions was estimated to be £640,000 per year (approximately $16 million in today’s money).86 In addition to these missions, occasional sampling flights by B6 aircraft were flown from other locations, including Canada, Darwin, and Singapore.87 The concerns first raised by Sir Frederick Brundrett in January 1955 were once more raised in early 1957. In 1955 Brundrett had written that ‘we have had considerable doubts whether the programme continues to be worth while in view of the possible margins of error in the assessments resulting from it.’ The decision to continue the programme, and in fact expand it to include the Australian detachment, was in many respects simple because, as Brundrett realised,

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‘the assessment of the Russian plutonium stock is fundamental to intelligence on their total weapons supply.’ Furthermore, ‘more important still is the need for a full and frank discussion.’88 Here Brundrett had hit the nail on the head— through Music, Britain could maintain its strong and highly prized links with the Americans. In many respects, therefore, this decision was borne out by the mid-1955 revisions to the McMahon Act, which allowed for greater collaboration. Why were the concerns about the value of the Music Programme once more raised in 1957? Two factors seem to explain this. Firstly, the assessments were not straightforward. Different views were held about the nature and diffusion of material as it passed through the various levels of the atmosphere, and this led to a variety of assessments. Perhaps unsurprisingly given their contribution, calculations made by the US intelligence community held the majority view at the Anglo-American Music conferences. The American assessments of Kr-85 levels were primarily those of the CIA and the USAF and were usually very high; by contrast, the British assessment of the levels of Kr-85 was much lower and often coincided with the view of the US Navy. Assessments from 1957 onwards were made more precarious by the advances in the Chinese and French nuclear programmes, which contributed further amounts of Kr-85 into the atmosphere. Consequently, as Brundrett once more wrote, ‘the problem at issue is to decide to what extent the conclusions we draw about the Russian position are sound.’89 The second issue was a purely practical one. Regardless of which method was employed to assess plutonium levels, the simple fact was that the Soviet Union now possessed enough nuclear weapons to achieve whatever nuclear war plan they might choose—to this end they had achieved, in the words of British planners, ‘nuclear sufficiency.’90 Despite these concerns, the Americans, in the mid-1957 Anglo-American Music conference, had convinced the British of the desirability of maintaining the Australian sampling flights. Although acceding to US demands, the British reduced Operation Unsparing in its scope, reflecting their scepticism about its value.91 A related concern, albeit less important, was the budgetary implications of continuing Music. Ever since the concerns about Eric Welsh receiving funds from two masters had arisen, the TRU/TAL organisation had been at the centre of annual, high-powered, and extremely secret financial reviews. The costs of operations conducted on behalf of atomic intelligence were always borne out by the agency carrying out the work; at the same time, this figure was never evident on that particular agency’s annual financial figures. Thus, the activities of TRU/TAL were funded by AERE Harwell, AWRE Aldermaston, the RAF, the MoD, the Foreign Office, SIS, and GCHQ.92 Consequently, because it was

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realised that Harwell Health Physics flights accounted for one-third of all British sampling flights, if these could be combined with Kr-85-collection flights the RAF—which was financially responsible for them—would save money.93 By mid-1957 the decision had been taken by the Sub-Committee on Atomic Energy Intelligence to reduce the number of flights involved in the Music Programme. The first casualties were all the intelligence-related sampling flights from the United Kingdom and Gibraltar, ‘saving’ 140 hours of flying time per year.94 The decision was also taken, in collaboration with the Canadians, that Canada would assume responsibilities for sampling missions emanating from Canadian soil.95 The Australian detachment itself would be reduced to just four Canberra aircraft.96 In October 1958, 542 Squadron was renamed 21 Squadron, in what was an unpopular move with the RAF crews involved. By late 1958, and despite earlier plans for reducing the commitment, RAF numbers had increased: five Canberra B2 aircraft operated from RAF Upwood in Lincolnshire, but only two Canberra B6 planes flew out of Laverton in Australia.97 It was now agreed within the MoD however, that Music operations would terminate as of the end of 1958, following a further Anglo-American Music conference. Accordingly, as Brundrett informed Marshal of the RAF Sir Dermot Boyle, ‘estimation of Soviet production of plutonium should now be reduced from a first to second priority intelligence requirement.’98 Despite the official closure of the Technical Research Unit’s involvement with Kr-85 sampling, the Harwell Health Physics programme continued. In many respects, therefore, Music was to continue in a rather surreptitious manner, albeit smaller in scale, for as the MoD was informed, ‘In future [the Air Staff] would receive details of the [sampling] requirement direct from Harwell.’99 With the ending of Music, the various RAF personnel attached to the Technical Research Unit returned to the Air Ministry.100 In January 1959, 21 Squadron was officially disbanded.101 Officially speaking, the Music Programme terminated on 31 December 1958; however, in practice it continued for many years afterward. Detachments of Canberra B6 aircraft continued to be flown from Canadian Air Force bases throughout the 1960s, as did numerous missions operated by the USAF but emanating from bases within the British Commonwealth.102 U2 missions flying from bases in the United Kingdom also undertook sampling missions, more commonly referred to as the High Altitude Sampling Program.103 Measurements of Kr-85 have even continued to this day as a means of assessing levels of produced plutonium—and the techniques have been used to great effect by intelligence agencies concerned with North Korea, India, and Pakistan.104

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Were the Soviets ever aware of the Music Programme? Currently it is not possible to answer this, but as one former member of atomic intelligence has testified, evidence suggests that the Soviets had a comparable system. Indeed, one recent newspaper article has revealed that the Russians at least are now capable of using krypton as a monitoring device, in this instance to spy on North Korea.105 John Baylis, in his magisterial account of British nuclear strategy, mentions the Music Programme but places it squarely within the context of general Anglo-American nuclear relations.106 This position now stands in need of some revision because despite the inevitable overlap, atomic intelligence relations were kept separate and as such enjoyed far more American hospitality. Indeed, while general Anglo-American relations at this time were strained, the Music Programme was a high point in what were otherwise strong atomic intelligence relations in the mid-1950s. As a result, Victor Macklen—Brundrett’s aide and his liaison with TRU—has concluded that the Music Programme had ‘military significance of extreme importance to the country as a whole.’107 Further Reorganisation of British Atomic Intelligence, 1957

By early 1956, the Atomic Energy Intelligence Working Party within JIB had been renamed the Intelligence on Atomic Weapons Working Party, but despite the title change, little had altered in terms of its relations with the Technical Research Unit. Members of the Division of Scientific Intelligence (DSI) within the JIB were still complaining at JIC meetings about the lack of information exchange they had with the TRU. In forwarding its annual reports on Soviet weapons to the Ministry of Defence, the DSI was forced to reveal that it had no intelligence on atomic weapons, and that the future inclusion of atomic intelligence would be a ‘worthwhile improvement to the report.’108 Although poor relations with DSI may not have hindered the role of the Technical Research Unit per se, they would undoubtedly have had a detrimental effect on the overall performance of British defence intelligence. This dissonance in relations became rather important with the launch of Sputnik in 1957, for it now transpired that the Soviets were planning to merge their nuclear and missile programmes, the former being the responsibility of TRU and the latter that of DSI. Accordingly, in 1957 the organisation of atomic and scientific intelligence was once more discussed in the JIC, with plans made to incorporate atomic intelligence into the JIB scientific intelligence picture.109 In addition to the constant friction exhibited by the DSI regarding the status of atomic intelligence as a separate entity from scientific intelligence, the JIC appears never to have

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been fully comfortable with the idea of the Subcommittee on Atomic Energy Intelligence. In a meeting in January 1957 the fact was highlighted that the subcommittee was ‘the only field of our intelligence which is not directed and controlled from the JIC, who are without the means of judging either the scope and effort which should be put into atomic energy intelligence or the value to be put upon the results which are passed to them.’ This applied not only to the subcommittee but also to the Technical Research Unit. Therefore, despite Welsh’s death and the recommendations of the Daniel Report—designed to control the influence of an autonomous atomic intelligence unit—by 1957 such concerns were still very apparent.110 Throughout 1957 there were numerous discussions within the JIC about what should be done about the anatomy of atomic intelligence. It is unclear how much of these deliberations would have filtered back to the TRU and TAL, but given the presence of ‘C’ at such meetings and the close relations he had with the director of TAL, it is likely that some did. By May 1957 plans had been made to disband the current subcommittee and replace it with a new organisation. In June the remit of the JIB was expanded to include a new Division of Atomic Energy Intelligence.111 The Technical Research Unit by this time had changed very little from its original composition. By 1957 the unit still comprised only a small number of dedicated staff: a head and deputy head, two scientists, two staff members from GCHQ, three RAF personnel, two general officers who liaised with various government departments, and two secretaries.112 The new deputy head of the organisation was Dr F.H. Panton, a chemist who had been recruited into SIS and thence to TAL/TRU. In addition to being deputy head, Panton spent 1958 as the TAL representative in the United States. Despite such a small number of dedicated staff, the TRU was merely the ‘tip of the iceberg,’ because every aspect of atomic intelligence involved liaison with other government departments.113 The new Division of Atomic Energy Intelligence was to run in addition to the Technical Research Unit, whose activities at this time were to remain unchanged. The TRU however did physically relocate, moving from offices in Storey’s Gate to the Metropole Buildings on Northumberland Avenue, just off Trafalgar Square. As a result, they were now located in the same building as the JIB and the Division of Atomic Energy Intelligence. The division’s remit was to coordinate the collation of all intelligence on nuclear weapons, except for instances in which the intelligence involved discussion of fissile material stockpiles and the results of the long-range detection of nuclear explosions.114 Therefore, the division was explicitly excluded from those two areas in which there was the closest Anglo-American collaboration. The explanation for this

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was simple: the MoD had decided that the TRU would remain the organisation for coordinating relations with the United States.115 While the actual collection and collation of atomic intelligence was to change only slightly, there was a substantial shift in terms of the oversight of atomic intelligence. The Sub-Committee on Atomic Energy Intelligence was disbanded and replaced by the Sub-Committee on Intelligence on Nuclear Weapons. This new organisation differed from its predecessor primarily in terms of its composition. Whereas the earlier incarnation had specifically excluded representatives from scientific intelligence, the new subcommittee was to be chaired and coordinated through the Joint Intelligence Bureau. The role of the Sub-Committee on Intelligence on Nuclear Weapons reflected the new direction that the Soviet nuclear weapons programme had taken. It was concerned with ‘the whole field of intelligence on nuclear weapons,’ and as such included primarily the application of nuclear technology to guided weapons.116 It was to be composed of representatives from the armed services’ intelligence units, SIS, GCHQ, the deputy-director of Scientific Intelligence, the scientific adviser on intelligence to the MoD, and finally a senior representative from the Technical Research Unit. The impact of the missile era consequently had a huge impact on the organisation of British defence intelligence. Ultimately the arrangement very much reflected that which R.V. Jones had envisaged years earlier, for it aimed to ensure maximum coordination in scientific and technical intelligence.117 Unlike the earlier subcommittee, the new version now had a direct line of access to the JIC, whom it was intended to serve. After one meeting, it was agreed that the name should be changed to Sub-Committee on Intelligence on Nuclear Weapons Systems—thereby reflecting the true nature of the target. From the fourth meeting onwards, a representative of the Office of Scientific Intelligence within the CIA also attended.118 Both the JIB’s Division of Atomic Energy Intelligence and the chairmanship of the Sub-Committee on Intelligence on Nuclear Weapons were to be under the control of Archie Potts, who, despite seemingly having had no previous experience of intelligence, had become the Deputy-Director for Scientific Intelligence within JIB. Previously Potts had been a researcher attached to both Fighter Command and the Ministry of Defence and had also acted as scientific adviser to the Allied forces in Central Europe and the Air Ministry.119 In the United States, the organisation of atomic intelligence had settled down after its piecemeal first few years. The creation in late 1947 of the Joint Nuclear Energy Intelligence Committee, which had become the Joint Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee in late 1949, very much laid the template for the British committee. By this time the JAEIC had become the body through which estimates were formulated. Of the various atomic intelligence bodies

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that had existed in the 1940s, the only active remaining one was within the CIA. The Nuclear Energy Group had, by the late 1940s, been absorbed into the Office of Scientific Intelligence (OSI), thereby predating the same move by the British by almost a decade. Outside the OSI, the detection effort was coordinated by AFOAT-1, which would become AFTAC in 1959. As a result, by the late 1950s American atomic intelligence was a far more streamlined and efficient machine than it had been at its creation immediately after World War II. It had a high-level committee to deliberate and produce estimates, and a standalone monitoring unit.120 Estimates of Soviet Intentions and Capabilities

Despite Operation Nomination altering its name, the Music Programme proper did not effectively begin until 1955. How did the information collected relate to the production of stockpile estimates of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme? Even by late 1954 the British had concluded that the Soviet Union now possessed enough nuclear weapons to carry out any number of war plans. Despite this acknowledgement, it was still important to have an appreciation of the number of bombs the Soviets had in their nuclear arsenal. The mid-1955 revisions to the McMahon Act had an instant effect on Anglo-American atomic intelligence collaboration. Not only were relations improved through the subsequent Music conference, but further discussions were held to improve joint analysis of current intelligence. Although official sanctioning of the revisions was not passed until June, an Anglo-American meeting in April 1955 was considered historic by the British because ‘the American team was more forthcoming than on previous occasions.’121 The problem in assessing the Soviet stockpile of nuclear weapons was the simple fact that Western intelligence did not know what specific types of weapons the Soviets would favour. In this way Music was to prove to be an excellent source of information because calculations could indicate the total amount of plutonium available, and this could be applied to various exigencies. At the same time, though, evidence from the Music Programme could only indicate levels of plutonium; accordingly, the JIC asserted that ‘an assumption can be made of the stock of U235 which would, technically, balance the plutonium stock.’ The first British estimates following the mid-1955 revisions to the McMahon Act were still based on the Soviets amassing relatively low-yield devices—30 kilotons. Given this assumption, it was believed that the Soviets could have three hundred such weapons.122 In November 1955 the Soviet Union detonated its biggest nuclear device to date. Joe-19, as it became known, was also the first multistaged thermonuclear

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weapon and revealed that the Soviet programme had reached a new level of sophistication. Estimates produced early the following year revealed that it was now believed that the Soviets would stockpile 20-kiloton weapons, perhaps a recognition that increased levels would be dedicated to high-yield thermonuclear weapons. Accordingly, it was felt that the Soviet Union could already have five hundred such weapons.123 The following month, in April 1956, a meeting of British and American intelligence officials came up with revised figures for subsequent years (see Table 5). Importantly, it was also emphasised that despite such figures being based on low-yield weapons, the Soviets would have enough fissile material by 1958 to build weapons ranging from 5 kilotons to 10 megatons, without affecting the overall war plan.124 JIC estimates made in 1957 for the first time reflected the different types of nuclear warheads the Soviets might choose to stockpile. In these estimates, it was felt that the Soviets could already be in possession of ninety 5-megaton weapons, seven hundred boosted 100-kiloton weapons, and between nine hundred and one thousand 40–60-kiloton weapons.125 The result of these estimates was a reaffirmation, this time with increased validity, of the ‘attainment by the USSR of nuclear sufficiency.’126 It was concluded by the JIC, therefore, that the evidence available from Soviet nuclear test explosions suggests that the Russians could make any or all of the types of weapon known to the United Kingdom, over the whole of the possible ranges of yield. We have no definite evidence on what varieties of weapons they will have decided are militarily necessary or feasible to support their strategic and tactical policies. The actual stock of weapons estimated to be available to the Russians at any date can be expressed in a variety of ways depending on what are our assumptions regarding their weapons policy.127

Despite such stark conclusions, what did the JIC estimate Soviet military intentions to be? To a large extent this was thought to be dependent on the table 5 Joint Anglo-American Estimates of the Likely Size of the Soviet Nuclear Arsenal Date

Mid-1956 Mid-1957 Mid-1958 Mid-1959 Mid-1960

Number of 30-Kiloton Weapons

650 850 1,100 1,400–1,750 1,800–2,750

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capabilities of the Soviet Air Force. With missiles under development but not yet deployed, delivery by aircraft was still the crucial issue. In the event of war, the Chief of the Air Staff observed that ‘the real importance of the Fighter today and tomorrow is its effectiveness as a bomber destroyer.’ As a consequence, Marshal of the RAF Sir Dermot Boyle continued, ‘for these operations the Mig.17 is inferior to our own interceptor fighters.’128 Intelligence on the Soviet fighter force, though integral to estimates of Soviet war plans, was considered less of a concern than the capabilities of the long-range bomber force. Estimates up to mid-1954 had seen the Tu-4 Bull as the flagship of the Soviet long-range bomber force. By 1955 a new bomber— the Badger—had appeared, though this was more of a ‘theatre’ aircraft (to be used in battle) than a long-range bomber. However, by this time rumours were already circulating of a new, far superior, Soviet long-range bomber—the Bison. The M-4 Bison aircraft was a turbojet bomber, which enabled it to travel far greater distances, up to a range of twelve thousand kilometres.129 The first experimental flights were conducted in January 1953, and the first sightings of the aircraft reached British intelligence in July of that year. Subsequent sightings were made in 1954, but it was not until 1955 that further detailed information was received.130 By May 1956 the number of sightings of the new aircraft were less than ten, yet these were considered adequate by the Air Ministry to indicate that ‘the Bisons are now in operational service.’131 Further glimpses of the aircraft revealed that there were numerous variants, each with a different purpose. One modification of the original plane was believed, by figures in Air Intelligence, to have a ‘bulge’ in the bomb bay, evidence of a refuelling capability. Another variant, known in the Soviet Union as the 3M model, was correctly identified as being able to achieve an even greater range than the original Bison.132 By September 1955, the JIC had concluded that the Soviet long-range bomber fleet was in the process of being upgraded and reequipped with ‘modern jet medium and long-range bombers.’ Notwithstanding this development, the JIC argued that even with such a capability, ‘by western standards its efficiency is low and at present it lacks the technical and operational ability to mount an effective attack against the United States.’133 US vulnerability increased with the appearance of another heavy bomber—the Bear. The Tu-95 Bear was an advance in aeronautical engineering. The sole objective in its design was to ‘create [a] bomber capable of delivering nuclear weapons to US territory.’ With four turboprop engines, the Bear was capable of reaching distances in excess of fifteen thousand kilometres. A 1956 variant (Tu95V) of the original design was created with the explicit purpose of delivering

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‘super-high-yield thermonuclear weapons’ to the US mainland.134 Evidence of the Bear led JIC planners to conclude that ‘by 1957 if our estimate of the growth of the possible Soviet heavy bomber force is correct, they will be able to mount two-way operations against all bases in North America.’135 Western intelligence was well informed of Soviet military aircraft developments, with the annual May Day parades and Soviet Air Force Day offering good evidence of the latest Soviet planes.136 A detailed study of the Soviet Air Force in early 1957 concluded that despite its capabilities, Soviet aircraft were still inferior to their Western counterparts.137 Estimates made by the American intelligence services once more contradicted the British view. To the British, the self-inflicted bomber-gap myth had been a creation of the USAF (see Chapter 5), yet it continued after 1954, a fact that was also evident to senior members of the CIA.138 What were the combined implications of the stockpile and long-range bomber force estimates on Soviet plans for war? By late 1954, predictions of the likely date the Soviet Union would launch a war had once more altered from those made in mid-1954. Instead of 1954 or 1957, the target date was now considered to be 1959. Despite this change in date, the same explanation was once more given as justification: ‘By 1959 the Soviet stockpile is likely to be large enough to permit them to allocate weapons to the majority of the targets they would wish to destroy.’ Therefore, ‘we believe that at present the Soviet leaders wish to avoid war.’139 The underpinning to estimates of Soviet strategy throughout the period was the belief that by the late 1950s the Soviet Union would achieve ‘nuclear sufficiency.’ By 1955, despite the persistent beliefs as to the weaknesses of the Soviet Air Force in comparison to its British equivalent, the JIC felt that although the Soviets would not have enough nuclear weapons to destroy all American targets, by this stage they certainly would have enough to ‘cause very major damage’ to British objectives.140 Information on Soviet strategy was assisted through the capture of various 1955 army pamphlets describing the atomic battlefield.141 Estimates made in 1956 once more reiterated the belief that the Soviet leaders would not dare risk a nuclear war until they had sufficient weapons to destroy all targets in the West. In addition, such a war was unlikely until better means of delivery of nuclear weapons could be achieved. Consequently, it was felt there would be little risk of war until 1960.142 In practice, war meant the deployment of missiles. Accordingly, by mid1957, the estimated date for Soviet ‘nuclear sufficiency’ was still 1960, though the possibility that 1961 would be more likely was discussed. This latter date was a result of the perceived Soviet successes in creating a missile that could

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carry a nuclear warhead, though at this time it was felt that long-range bombers would still be predominant.143 Once more it was emphasised that without either the effective means of attacking America or enough bombs to adequately do so, the Soviet leaders would not launch an offensive.144 Despite these assertions, JIC planners believed that even with the attainment of nuclear sufficiency and for the first time a realistic chance of success, the Soviet leaders would still not dare to start a war with the West.145 Instead, the JIC expected a regime of relatively stable deterrence. It was consequently felt by British planners that the Soviet Union would not dare do anything that would jeopardise the current military balance of power. British strategy was based on this predilection, coupled with the fact that plans for a surprise attack would soon be detected by the intelligence services. As a result, the Minister of Defence, Duncan Sandys, could write that ‘it is inconceivable that the Russians would make an unprovoked surprise attack on the bomber airfield in Britain, except in conjunction with a simultaneous attack upon the American air bases in the United States and around the world. In order to mount an air offensive of this magnitude and complexity large-scale preparations would be needed.’146 The implication was that preparations on this scale would be detected well in advance. US atomic intelligence at this time was also changing. Intelligence estimates were still formulated within the interdepartmental Joint Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee, but from 1954 these estimates were distributed within the CIA National Intelligence Estimate series. Much as British atomic intelligence had gone through something of a makeover in the mid-1950s, so did American atomic intelligence. Sherman Kent, the head of the Office of National Estimates, made a plea that nuclear intelligence be expanded to incorporate other areas relevant to the production of estimates, including economic factors, strategic plans, and the role of other industries. In many respects, this adjustment predated the equivalent British alteration by two to three years.147 By 1958 American atomic intelligence had undergone further revisions, primarily in the widening scope of its definition to include the applications of nuclear weapons to other modes of warfare—bringing it in-line with British revisions at the same time.148 Britain’s American ‘cousins’ utilised the Music Programme in their estimates far more than their British counterparts did. Like the British, the Americans felt that the Soviets could be stockpiling a whole variety of nuclear weapons, ranging from very small-yield to extremely high-yield devices.149 Further studies made in mid-1958 revealed that it was felt within the CIA that previous estimates of the Soviet stockpile had been too high. Although the

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explanation behind this assertion is not clear, it could have stemmed from discussions in July 1958 during the Experts Conference in Geneva.150 In 1955 President Eisenhower had instigated the Killian Committee, named after his scientific adviser, Dr James Killian. The committee was tasked with investigating the chances of a surprise attack on the American homeland. The report’s conclusion was that there was a shortage of good intelligence on Soviet intentions and capabilities.151 Despite this dire conclusion, estimates were produced as to the likely Soviet strategy in a nuclear war. In his report Killian mentioned that the previous estimate—that until 1958–60 the United States would enjoy a superiority in megaton weapons—would in fact end in 1956. A large factor behind this shift was evidence from the Soviet thermonuclear tests of 1955, but also the new information on Soviet amounts of uranium, courtesy of Dragon Return.152 The Americans, seemingly far more than the British, placed great weight on the 1954 Soviet test of a nuclear artillery shell. This, it was felt, was evidence of battlefield applications to the nuclear programme.153 Yet all of these discussions were overshadowed in late 1957 by the launch of Sputnik. Nuclear ICBMs

An integral component of the postwar rush to capture German scientists and technology was the drive to obtain information on rockets. German progress, epitomised in the V-2 rocket, was far in advance of progress in both the West and the East, and naturally both sides wanted to retrieve as much information as possible. After the end of the war, British and American intelligence began to gather information on the Soviet rocket programme, beginning with the information the Soviets had procured from Germany. Missile intelligence exemplified the closeness of Anglo-American intelligence exchange throughout this period. Beginning in 1949 there were regular and frank exchanges of intelligence between the two nations on the Soviet guided-weapons programme.154 Much like atomic intelligence, information on Soviet rocketry was notably incomplete, and accordingly estimates were restricted to short-term predictions.155 Despite these limitations, Western intelligence concluded in 1950 that Soviet research was beginning to move beyond the wartime German V-2 stage.156 Intelligence began to improve only from the early 1950s with the information provided through Dragon Return, yet once more this knowledge was limited in scope to those areas to which the German scientists and technicians had had access.157 Analysis of Soviet progress was based on British and American experience with wartime German technology and with subsequent technological ad-

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vances. The belief that the Soviets had also moved beyond this stage was therefore significant. JIC discussions about a further Anglo-American conference on the Soviet guided-weapons programme, held in 1954, disclosed that there was some debate over whether the Soviets were concentrating on offensive or defensive weapons systems. The JIC hoped that the recent testimonies received through Dragon Return would provide further clarification. The British decided, however, that the United Kingdom should be wary of US forecasts, particularly given the US tendency to overemphasise the Soviet threat.158 Intelligence at this time, obtained primarily through Dragon Return, indicated that the Soviet guided-weapons programme could be more substantial than originally thought.159 It was also at around this time that the ‘missile gap’ began to emerge in US estimates, with the subsequent recommendation that the United States increase its own missile programme.160 Much like the earlier bomber gap, the missile gap would turn out to be an American myth. Although the bomber gap had been identified by British intelligence and planners, the missile gap myth was never present in British deliberations. The missile gap fallacy would increase throughout the mid- to late 1950s, but from the outset Anglo-American relations remained strong, with the United States in particular keen to retain collaboration.161 Much like it was for the nuclear weapons programme, gathering intelligence on Soviet guided-weapons development was two-pronged. Information was needed, in advance, on Soviet capabilities; but Soviet development could be detected with a good degree of accuracy only through surveillance of the actual testing of such weapons. Various RAF missions beginning in 1954— code-named Operation Robin—were tasked with overflying the Soviet missile range at Kapustin Yar.162 Locating the Soviet missile test sites was important primarily so that telemetric data could be provided on the actual tests themselves; in addition, of course, the sites would have been primary targets in the event of war. As with the locations of the stations employed in the AngloAmerican long-range-detection network, Britain was able to offer the Americans the benefits of the Commonwealth countries in their proximity to the Soviet Union. Electronic intelligence (ELINT) stations detected the Soviet monitoring of the missile’s performance. The moment the rocket left its launchpad, Soviet technicians received data from the missile itself through the emission of electrical signals that were automatically radioed back to them. Throughout the rocket’s path, from launch to landing, various ground stations were located to receive the emitted signals. It was these electronic signals that were intercepted by ELINT units, and which could be used to analyse the performance of Soviet missiles.163

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To illustrate just how technically advanced such intelligence gathering was, it is necessary to consider an example. One American unit was located near Trabzon in Turkey to monitor Soviet missile launches from the Kapustin Yar and the Tyuratam test ranges. As the station’s commander has recalled, We were located on a 600 foot cliff looking out over the Black Sea facing to the north. The snow covered Trans-Caucasus mountain range[ ,] however, stretched between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea, creating an obstacle to receiving telemetry transmissions directly from the launch pads of both Kapustin Yar and Tyuratam. We would typically start receiving telemetry in a sudden burst some 10’s of seconds after T-Zero as the launch vehicle cleared the mountains. If the booster part of the launch phase was successful, the telemetry signal would slowly get weaker as the rocket hurtled downrange directly away from us and over the curvature of the earth.

US monitoring stations were staffed by personnel from the armed services and the CIA, and presumably the National Security Administration. Sites were located ‘along the underbelly of the Soviet Union,’ in a line stretching from Turkey to Pakistan and incorporating Cyprus and Iran. By the 1960s, monitoring of Soviet telemetry and radar coverage was such that Soviet tracking of U-2 missions could be observed on American television sets, far beyond where US radar could reach.164 GCHQ assisted in the electronic monitoring of Soviet missile tests. It also monitored communications intelligence ‘chatter’ during Soviet guided-weapons trials. Similarly, flights to Cyprus were conducted in order to monitor ELINT in the first thirty seconds of rocket flight.165 While intelligence on Soviet ballistic missile advances were an obvious concern to strategic planners, it was not until the mid-1950s that such anxieties became paramount within atomic intelligence circles. Until the 1954 Soviet nuclear test at Totsk—where an atomic artillery shell was exploded—every Soviet test had been for an airborne-deliverable weapon. At around this time, the apprehension was first raised within the JIC that the Soviet nuclear weapons programme might be directed towards developing a warhead capable of being attached to a missile.166 The conclusion, that the Soviet nuclear and missile programmes might be merging, was not of immediate concern to the Americans inasmuch as it was felt that Soviet missiles could not yet reach the United States. At the same time, however, intermediate-range ballistic missiles would soon be in reach of the United Kingdom.167 British monitoring of test launches from Kapustin Yar led the JIC to conclude that proportionately the Soviets were spending far more on their guided-weapons programme than the British were on their own programme.168 Despite this realisation, in 1956 it was felt that the Soviets would not be at the testing stage of a nuclear-tipped ballistic missile until 1960.169

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In January 1957, evidence was gathered on both sides of the Atlantic that indicated that the Soviet Union had tested a nuclear weapon, with a nominal yield, at one of the guided-weapons test sites.170 This was in fact the second such test, the first having taken place in February 1956. JIC estimates made in April 1957 stated that it must now be assumed that there had been a ‘marriage’ between the Soviet missile and nuclear programmes. These tests had been of low-yield devices only, and it was not known whether the Soviets were able to construct large-yield devices small enough to be attached to a missile.171 By May, the JIC was confident enough to assert that once the Soviet ballistic missiles became operational, they would be equipped with nuclear warheads.172 Consequently, by late 1957 it was decided that everything must be done to ‘detect the tie-up that must exist between the Soviet nuclear weapons programme and the Soviet ballistic missile programme.’173 On 4 October 1957, the Soviets launched Sputnik. Although not the first Soviet intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) to be launched, Sputnik, which had been dispatched atop an ICBM, was significant because of its weight and the fact that it was the first earth-orbiting vehicle, thereby indicating the range that Soviet missiles could now reach. This distance was far in excess of previously estimated forecasts, accounting for some of the shock with which the intelligence community greeted news of Sputnik. Perhaps of more concern, however, was the fact that Sputnik signified that the Soviet programme was ahead of the American programme. In America, news of Sputnik was considered little short of catastrophe. In a report sent to him by members of the Science Advisory Committee and the Atomic Energy Commission, Allen Dulles (the Director of Central Intelligence) was informed that ‘we believe the United States to be in a period of national emergency.’ Furthermore, Sputnik was seen to indicate that ‘beyond question the Russians have an orderly and progressive programme which is being prosecuted in an aggressive and intelligent manner.’174 In Britain the news was received with less alarm. Intelligence estimates were altered in two ways: The British now felt that Soviet missiles could attack British missile silos and that previous estimates of the Soviet missile programme had been incorrect.175 Revisions to intelligence estimates now foresaw that the first Soviet ICBMs could be operational by 1959.176 By December 1957, in response to questions put to them by the Prime Minister, the JIC replied that Soviet missiles could now be in range of the United Kingdom, but only if launched from one of the satellites and not the USSR itself.177 Similar revisions occurred within US intelligence estimates.178 The event marked a change in the previous intelligence analysis of the Soviet war machinery, for as

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Dr Ray Cline (deputy director of the CIA) commented, ‘Sputnik in the fall of 1957 made us all aware that a new missile age, a new weapons age, had come about.’179 Resumption of Relations—The 1958 Bilateral Agreement

By mid-1958, discussions within Whitehall commenced to reform the Technical Research Unit. Despite the new subcommittee and division within the JIB, the Division of Scientific Intelligence was still not receiving much, if any, atomic intelligence material.180 The first proposals made in mid-1958 were produced by Sir Frederick Brundrett and Sir Patrick Dean. Both had been intimately involved in atomic intelligence before: Brundrett, as Chief Scientific Adviser in the MoD, had been a permanent member of the original SubCommittee on Atomic Energy Intelligence, whereas Dean was the longtime Chairman of the JIC. These proposals were accepted in principle by the JIC. In turn the JIC instructed Eric Williams, the scientific adviser for intelligence in the MoD, to transform them into a practical reality with the assistance of Dr Robert Press (head of TRU/TAL) and Archie Potts (responsible for atomic matters within the JIB). Part of the need to reform and change atomic intelligence was a realisation that the target had once more changed, as had the nature of intelligence collection. For these reasons, and because the Music Programme had ceased to be regarded as an important source of intelligence, the financial cost of maintaining the RAF service crews was no longer essential. Consequently, the Technical Research Unit did not need to include an RAF secondment. What was of primary importance, as Williams recognised, was an outfit that could coordinate the activities of the long-range-detection stations. This would be done through a small unit working in the MoD and directly under Williams himself. Accordingly, all the remaining TRU staff should transfer into the Atomic Intelligence Division within the JIB, and the TAL liaison in the United States should become an MoD employee (for the JIB was in the Ministry of Defence).181 Williams envisaged that the transfer would take place by the end of December 1958, though as he realised in writing to Brundrett, ‘naturally, Potts wants the transfer earlier, Press wants it later.’182 Then, too, with the imminent conclusion of the 1958 agreement, the fears that structural changes to British atomic intelligence would not go down well with the United States and might inhibit progress towards the goal of the agreement had disappeared. In the end, the transfer occurred on 1 January 1959, though SIS through TAL was to retain responsibility for covert operations. The views of successive heads of Scientific Intelligence, that atomic and scientific intelligence be

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merged, ultimately held sway. However, that is not to say that it would have been correct to have joined the two groups earlier; on the contrary, the decision was taken due to the practical realisation that the nuclear and missile fields were being merged in the Soviet Union—hence, the structure of British atomic intelligence altered only when its target did so. Of the senior TRU members, Press transferred to the Atomic Energy Authority, while Panton was posted to the position of technical adviser to the British delegation to the Conference on the Discontinuance of Nuclear Tests. Despite the transfer, atomic intelligence retained top priority within British intelligence.183 By the early 1960s, the Division of Atomic Energy Intelligence had subsumed all aspects of the subject apart from covert operations, with Potts remaining in charge until 1964, assisted by Dr Stuart Reid as his deputy.184 The shock of Sputnik, according to John Baylis, ‘provided an important opportunity for British diplomacy.’185 Just three days after its launch, senior officials in the Foreign Office contacted their American counterparts, urging that the time was now ripe for a further revision and termination of the McMahon Act. A meeting was subsequently set up for the end of October in Washington. Within the US administration, there was a split: Admiral Strauss, the longtime Anglophobe and Chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission, was strictly against full cooperation; whereas General Loper, Chairman of the Military Liaison Committee (the liaison between the DoD and the AEC) and assistant to the Secretary of Defense on atomic matters, was pro-British.186 Loper’s main argument was that given the state of Soviet knowledge, it made sense for the British to be fully informed; Strauss’ retort to this—questioning Soviet technological advances—indicated his ignorance of atomic weapons technology.187 British prospects were no doubt assisted by the testing of Grapple X—a thermonuclear device with a yield of 1.8 megatons—in November 1957.188 Despite this test and the British satisfaction with the meetings in Washington, full collaboration was not yet achievable because there were various internal problems within the US administration regarding what information should be exchanged with the British.189 Ultimately these problems were smoothed out, and in mid-1958 Britain achieved what Macmillan referred to as ‘the great prize’—full technical exchange of nuclear information with the United States. Professor John Baylis has identified two main historiographical arguments regarding the factors behind this decision: that the British used the ‘special relationship’ as a diplomatic tool to achieve their goals; and, conversely, that the Americans used the treaty to secure British dependence on the United States.190 Both these viewpoints are persuasive, and indeed there is no reason to suggest that both are not correct. However, the fundamental basis for both

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was the foundation laid through the Anglo-American ‘special relationship’ in the atomic field. Since the 1946 passing of the McMahon Act, atomic relations with the Americans had been severely limited. Through progressive levels of intelligence collaboration, the British had enabled a constant atomic intelligence channel with the Americans. Since the end of the Second World War, there had been stationed in the United States a British envoy of atomic intelligence, and similarly an American counterpart had existed in London. The British atomic weapons programme, headed by William Penney, initially had no representation in the United States, primarily because technical exchange was forbidden. With the replacement of Dr Wilfrid Mann by Dr Robert Press in 1951, the Atomic Weapons Research Establishment at Aldermaston decided that it was necessary to have its own representative in Washington. The first incumbent of this post was Dr Ken Stewart, who was followed by Alec Walkling, a veteran of the earliest postwar weapons programme at Fort Halstead. As mentioned previously, the atomic intelligence representative in Washington was also an SIS officer, for his work was concentrated primarily on issues related to TAL—the covert arm of atomic intelligence. By contrast, the Aldermaston representatives were concerned with the more overt aspects of the relationship, and both Stewart and Walkling were health physics specialists.191 By 1958 the two incumbents in Washington were Dr Frank Panton for TRU/TAL and Brigadier General (now Major General) Eric Younson for Aldermaston. In his appointment in early 1958, Younson’s role in Washington was made patently clear: ‘I was summoned to see Sir Fred Brundrett, then scientific adviser to the Ministry of Defence. . . . Sir Fred without preliminaries pronounced “I understand you are prepared to represent my interests in Washington to exchange nuclear weapons design and intelligence with the Americans.” ’192 This latter aspect should not be ignored in Britain’s decision to reach the 1958 bilateral agreement with the Americans, for as Major General Younson has recalled, ‘much of the pressure to reach the 1958 Agreement came from the intelligence community.’193 In this way the US intelligence community wanted to ‘legalise’ the existing exchanges of information.194 Also at this time (mid-1958), discussions first began at Geneva for the Experts’ Conference to discuss possible techniques for monitoring a test ban. This merging of relations was possible only through the links that had been established since 1946 in the joint long-range detection of Soviet nuclear tests. Though British military planners needed intelligence on Soviet nuclear sufficiency for strategic purposes, the atomic intelligence relationship was preserved and maintained for the links it provided to the US nuclear weapons community. The decision to continue the existence of Music past 1955, despite

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the protestations within Whitehall over its worthiness, must surely be seen in this context. Indeed, as Dr Panton has recalled, ‘a very important motivation for this work by the UK . . . was the fact that it sustained an atomic channel of importance to the US which could be, and eventually was, extended to full cooperation in nuclear design information under the 1958 US/UK Agreement.’195 The achievement of Macmillan’s ‘great prize’ therefore was based on the foundations established by Eric Welsh and atomic intelligence. That is not to say, of course, that the agreement might not have come about eventually anyway, or that this was the primary motivation behind British atomic intelligence, but without such links, the establishment of this agreement would have been difficult simply because very few areas of collaboration existed. This is certainly the view of Dr Panton, who was heavily involved in both atomic intelligence and atomic relations during the 1958 bilateral agreement: ‘Welsh’s organisation . . . certainly contributed to the final conclusion of the 1958 Agreement with the US. . . . The links which Penney and his team were able to have with the US through TAL/TRU and its liaison office in the Washington Embassy . . . were nevertheless important in the lean years up to 1958.’196 Indeed, ‘I am quite sure that the gaining of the 1958 Agreement was greatly facilitated by the US/UK cooperation on nuclear intelligence in the decade before 1958, and that the TRU/TAL set-up played a pivotal role in this.’197 Shortly after the signing, Dr Panton returned to London and Major General Younson assumed both positions in Washington, responsible therefore to both Aldermaston and SIS. Atomic intelligence relations between Britain and America continued to improve, assisted no doubt by the growth of concerns over Chinese nuclear weapons development. Within the ‘special relationship,’ the 1958 agreement had played an integral role. Allen Dulles explained its importance in 1959, emphasising that a very effective and profitable exchange of atomic energy intelligence information has been developed and conducted with the United Kingdom during the past ten years. . . . The United States–United Kingdom bilateral agreement makes possible significant increases in this collaboration, and the cooperation authorised by the President in the exchange of United States nuclear weapons design data provides a meaningful frame of reference for the exchange of corresponding Restricted Data information on Soviet nuclear weapons. . . . The intelligence agencies have a keen interest in this vital area.198

By 1958, Britain had reestablished full atomic intelligence collaboration with the United States. In addition to their jubilation at the reinvigoration of the Anglo-American atomic intelligence relationship, US scientists discovered through this new exchange that Aldermaston had been far more successful than they had thought. Dr Norris Bradbury, the director of Los Alamos,

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observed that ‘we now know that the British have little to learn from us. . . . This is comforting in the sense that their efforts have corroborated the correctness of ours.’199 Remarkably, even Edward Teller, the self-appointed ‘father of the hydrogen bomb,’ was impressed: ‘In recent exchanges with the British we found that although they had devoted a fraction of time and money to their programme as compared with the US programme, their developments substantially paralleled our own. Nothing of special significance has escaped the British.’200 The organisation of scientific intelligence within Britain by the end of 1958 was extremely sensible. While atomic and scientific intelligence remained separate from each other, they were now placed within the same parent organisation—the Joint Intelligence Bureau. Despite earlier complaints, this was the optimum location for it, reflecting the changing nature of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme and its marriage with the guided-weapons process. However, such an organisation would not have worked as well had British defence intelligence been merged earlier. As Sir Charles Daniel verified in his evaluation of atomic intelligence, given its peculiar nature, the best place for it in the mid1950s had been as a separate, stand-alone entity. Through this arrangement, the crucial Anglo-American relations could be and were strengthened. The death of Welsh in many respects was not a momentous event simply because by late 1954 the organisation he had built and defended since the end of the war was both comprehensive and successful. As his successor, Press seems to have merely maintained Welsh’s hard work. It was through this organisation that in 1958 Britain could ultimately achieve what had been desired since 1946—the resumption of technical relations with the United States. While this renewed collaboration had a far greater impact on the weapons programme, it undoubtedly assisted intelligence collaboration too. Throughout the 1950s Western intelligence once more failed to effectively penetrate the inner workings of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme, with the majority of predictive information coming through Dragon Return. Yet despite this, the lack of intelligence was not as much a hindrance as it had been prior to Joe-1. Intelligence priorities had changed: By 1954 it was known through the momentous achievements of the long-range-detection network that the Soviet Union had achieved various stages of nuclear proficiency. Consequently, what was of primary importance, as was correctly realised, was an awareness of the size and nature of the Soviet stockpile of nuclear weapons. This objective was substantially met. The Music Programme suitably filled this request, and although there were disagreements as to the nature and worthiness of its results, it appears to have provided not only a channel of collaboration between the British and Ameri-

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cans but also good information on Soviet stockpiles. The disbandment of Music in the late 1950s reflected not just a realisation of the Soviet attainment of nuclear sufficiency but also the difficulties in analysing results following the Chinese and French advances in nuclear science. Atomic relations between East and West had also changed considerably by this period. The visit of Igor Kurchatov, the head of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme, to Harwell in 1956 would have been unheard-of ten or even five years earlier. Despite the fact that Kurchatov spoke fluent English, Peter Kelly (a linguist attached to the TRU) was dispatched to act as translator—surely old habits die hard! Relations had improved to the extent that in July 1958 representatives of East and West met in Geneva to compare detection systems with the intention of being able to monitor a test ban. Once more, this advance was achievable only because of the work atomic intelligence had conducted to this point. From its humble origins in 1945, British atomic intelligence, through its almost symbiotic relations with the United States, had grown into an integral component of the cold war British intelligence machinery. Not only this, but since the late 1940s it had been accorded the highest priority in intelligence requirements, a factor continued into the 1960s. Whether or not nuclear weapons would ever have been used by the Soviets is a purely conjectural matter, yet the apparatus had been installed to ensure that if they did, the British and Americans would not be completely surprised as to the scale or nature of an attack. Consequently, Eric Welsh’s 1952 view that atomic intelligence was ‘losing heavily’ in its war with the Soviet Union was, by 1958, no longer true.

Conclusion In judging the performance of any intelligence organisation we need first to come to a realistic understanding of the limits to intelligence. Sir Percy Cradock, Chairman of the JIC, 1985–19921

During the Second World War, atomic intelligence was coordinated through a variety of bodies. Due to its supremely sensitive nature, the circle of those in the know was deliberately kept small. In both Britain and America there existed a degree of rivalry that at times threatened to subsume the important work being conducted. In Britain, where this competition continued for the longest, the key figures involved were Professor R.V. Jones, the RAF’s intelligence specialist and scientific intelligence adviser attached to SIS; Michael Perrin, a senior figure involved in the British bomb project; and Eric Welsh, an SIS officer drawn into atomic matters. Whilst all parties seemingly worked well together for the majority of the war, by its culmination Jones had fallen out with Welsh and Perrin, thereby beginning almost a decade of hostility.2 In the aftermath of the war, Jones and Welsh vied for control over atomic intelligence—Jones wanted to absorb it into his scientific intelligence directorate, whereas Welsh wanted it to retain its existence as a stand-alone unit. Jones’ subsequent failure to take control of atomic intelligence led to his resignation and departure to Aberdeen University. Despite his absence, Jones’ ‘ghost’ continued to be felt in the corridors of Whitehall, as successive heads of scientific intelligence fought to gain control of the atomic intelligence unit. Jones returned to his directorship of scientific intelligence in the early 1950s at the personal behest of Prime Minister Winston Churchill but once more failed in his attempts to subsume atomic intelligence and withdrew, tail between his legs, to Aberdeen.3 In contrast, Welsh’s position grew from strength to strength. While claiming to be the only individual within SIS with a science degree, in reality Welsh

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had no such qualification.4 Nevertheless, from his wartime experience Welsh was able to maintain and extend his exemplary list of scientific contacts. To understand the importance of this achievement, it is necessary to briefly recount how precisely the atomic intelligence unit was organised. In 1945 the Directorate of Atomic Energy (Intelligence) was located within the Ministry of Supply. The directorate, under the head of Eric Welsh, was a small outfit. Atomic intelligence, and by extension Welsh, had a strange dual existence throughout this period. While its ‘overt’ existence was the aforementioned directorate in the MoS, it also had a ‘covert’ existence within SIS. Welsh, therefore, had two masters, two budgets, and two different responsibilities. The fundamental basis of the organisation of British atomic intelligence resembled an iceberg. Above the water the small Ministry of Supply grouping was visible. Underneath, and relatively invisible to the uninformed eye, was a vast organisation. In his covert role, Welsh was able to formulate requirements for SIS to carry out. Through the activities of a GCHQ liaison officer, Welsh had a two-way direct line of access with signals intelligence. Through the scientific officers seconded to Welsh, he could convey information to and receive information from the various atomic establishments, later Harwell and Aldermaston. Through an RAF representative, Welsh could convey instructions that were vital for the successes of the long-range-detection programme. Finally, through a liaison officer in Washington, Welsh could maintain a direct line of access with the Americans, which would prove vital in later years. Even with the benefit of hindsight, it is difficult to see how a different organisation could have fared better. To put this viewpoint into context, it is necessary to bear in mind the atomic intelligence unit’s target: Welsh’s group was attempting to gather intelligence on a strictly compartmentalised, highly secret programme within a secure police state. In addition, it was peacetime. Given the recommendations passed down from the Chiefs of Staff—that nothing must be done to antagonise the Soviet Union—Welsh had only limited options. At first glance the argument proffered by Jones and his allies, that it was necessary to combine atomic and scientific intelligence in order that targets were not missed, appears a sensible one. Yet what it does not take into account is just how secret atomic information was in the British government at this time. Consider, for example, Sir Henry Tizard. Remarkably, as Attlee’s leading scientific adviser and chairman of the Defence Research Policy Committee (designed to bridge the gap between intelligence and research and development), Tizard was purposefully excluded from atomic discussions.5 Given this state of affairs, it is worthwhile to bear in mind that Sir Douglas Evill’s report into scientific intelligence in 1947 decreed that the organisation remain as it was.6

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In stark contrast to the relative stability of the architecture of British atomic intelligence was the organisational chaos of the American system. The years immediately succeeding the end of the Second World War saw the birth of the American intelligence establishment. During the war, atomic intelligence had fallen within the remit of General Leslie Groves, head of the wartime Manhattan Project.7 In 1946, atomic matters were transferred from military to civilian hands with the creation of the Atomic Energy Commission. In 1947 Truman passed the National Security Act, thereby establishing the Central Intelligence Agency. By this time, various agencies were concentrating on atomic intelligence, with units primarily in the AEC and the CIA, but also in the State Department and the armed services. This distribution of the US atomic intelligence effort resulted in what one participant called a ‘critical situation.’8 Measures taken in the late 1940s to rectify the deteriorating relations between the AEC and the CIA did improve matters, but each organisation continued to operate its own atomic intelligence unit. Even after the creation of the Joint Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee, which eventually rectified matters, bitter disagreements often arose between the different agencies represented in the committee. Joe-1, as the first Soviet atomic bomb became known in the West, was a crucial event for atomic intelligence. In the United States, detailed investigations were conducted into what was perceived as an intelligence failure. In the United Kingdom, similar questions were raised, but no in-depth evaluation would occur until 1954. Eric Welsh was greatly concerned throughout this time that he would lose control of atomic intelligence.9 In 1954 and with the decision within Whitehall to create the Atomic Energy Authority, the Chiefs of Staff decided to conduct a thorough and extensive review of atomic intelligence. The subsequent report, by Admiral Sir Charles Daniel, though it identified some failures, maintained that keeping atomic separate from scientific intelligence was the correct course of action.10 Upon Daniel’s recommendations, however, the nomenclature of atomic intelligence did alter. Transferring to the Ministry of Defence, Welsh’s overt outfit became the Technical Research Unit, whereas the covert side, still located within SIS, became the Technical Atomic Liaison. Despite this change of name, the unit’s composition did not alter. A further sign of the supreme importance of Welsh’s unit to the British intelligence machinery and strategic planning was the creation of the Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee, which was to be a high-level committee, composed of senior MoD, intelligence, and scientific figures, and which was to operate alongside the Joint Intelligence Committee in stature. By definition, therefore, this development sits

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uncomfortably with Sir Percy Cradock’s view of the JIC as the ‘final arbiters of intelligence.’ In fact, despite the fact that the Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee ultimately reported to the JIC, it appears that the members of the JIC were never quite content with this setup.11 By 1957, however, atomic and scientific intelligence had begun to fuse within the Joint Intelligence Bureau, though crucially they were not to merge fully. These changes were not a result of further lobbying by Jones-ists, but more a realisation that the nature of the Soviet target had changed: a reflection of the merging of the Soviet nuclear and missile programmes. What lessons can be drawn about the organisation of atomic intelligence from 1945 to 1958? Certainly the organisations on both sides of the Atlantic were not perfect, but then it is almost impossible to imagine how alternative structures would have been more efficient. The British setup was certainly more effective and capable through its streamlined centralisation than its American equivalent. Despite the setback of not predicting Joe-1, Anglo-American atomic intelligence suffered no great failures; indeed, it was to achieve numerous successes. It is therefore difficult to fault the view of Sir Percy Cradock, that ‘perhaps the difficulty about scientific intelligence lay not so much in inadequate organisation or lack of interest . . . as in the shortage of hard evidence about developments in the Soviet Union.’12 Intelligence Collection and Analysis

Western estimates of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme centred on the dual nature of the target; in other words, it was necessary to discern between ‘intentions’ and ‘capabilities.’ In Britain and America, the various outfits, responsible as they were for producing assessments of the nuclear weapons programme, were concerned primarily with Soviet ‘capabilities.’ It was therefore the responsibility of others to identify ‘intentions.’ Why is it necessary to understand the difference between these two? In 2003 in the case of Iraqi weapons of mass destruction, Prime Minister Tony Blair took the unprecedented step of asking the JIC to provide not only estimates but also for the first time recommendations on policy.13 In the 1940s and 1950s the JIC was not asked for policy recommendations. The aim of the atomic intelligence units was to provide the JIC and JAEIC with assessments of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme, its types of weapons, and their number—therefore, what its capabilities were. By comparison, it was the role of the JIC in Britain and primarily the CIA in America to provide an indication of what the Soviet leadership might do with these weapons—an idea of their intentions.

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In considering the performance of the atomic intelligence machinery, it is therefore necessary to differentiate between Soviet capabilities and Soviet intentions. Estimating Soviet capabilities was primarily the role of the atomic intelligence unit, whereas predicting Soviet intentions fell outside its remit. The problem with Iraq, as former JIC chairman Sir Rodric Braithwaite has highlighted, is that the JIC ‘stepped outside its traditional role.’14 There can be no doubt that capabilities and intentions are linked, for as Michael Herman has succinctly noted of British Defence white papers, ‘[They] illustrate this use of Soviet capabilities to gauge intentions.’15 Certainly this was the case with the Soviet nuclear weapons programme. Consequently, in order to consider estimates of Soviet intentions, it is first necessary to look at Soviet capabilities. Intelligence on the German atomic bomb programme has rightly been gauged successful, probably because there was no surprise when the Alsos Mission discovered just how basic it was in comparison to the Allied project. This success was thanks to one crucial aspect of intelligence collection—human intelligence. Signals intelligence, though vital to other aspects of the war effort, was lacking because, in the words of the official history of wartime British intelligence, the German programme ‘was in any case shrouded in secrecy, [and also] did not get beyond the research stage.’16 The Soviet nuclear weapons programme was compartmentalised like perhaps nothing else in history. Research laboratories and plants were scattered across the vast expanse of the Soviet Union, and only a very small number of exceedingly senior individuals were privy to the overall picture. To consider the performance of an intelligence organisation, it is necessary to physically comprehend the nature of the target. Estimates in the field of technical intelligence are unique and can be split into two categories: information predicting future developments, and the actual monitoring of the testing of such developments. While British and American intelligence did commendably well in the latter category, information was often scarce in the former. To gather information, Anglo-American atomic intelligence employed a variety of different techniques, including a mixture of traditional and innovative approaches. In the period up until the early 1950s, the primary aim of atomic intelligence was to predict Soviet developments—the attainment of certain stages in the evolution of nuclear weaponry. To this end, results were somewhat disappointing. There was some initial success through signals intelligence, though it is unclear to what exactly this success pertained to.17 Certainly once Soviet nuclear testing became more regularised, Western intelligence organisations intercepted transmissions regarding preparations at the northern test site at Novaya Zemlya, above the Arctic Circle.18

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There was very little—if any—success in terms of penetrating the Soviet programme, despite the fact that the CIA and SIS continually attempted to do so throughout the 1950s. There was some success in the interrogations of defectors, in particular the jointly controlled agent Icarus, but this success was short-lived. Similarly, there were limited achievements in using existing scientists employed in the plants in East Germany to pass information to British and American intelligence. By far the majority of information was obtained through Germans working in the Soviet Union. A great source of intelligence was derived from the interception of letters sent back to Germany. Vital information was also gleaned through the interrogations of returning German technicians and PoWs. Dragon Return, the operation involving the questioning of returning German scientists, was also useful, but limited given the time lag between the German scientists’ involvement in the Soviet programme and their return to the West. Information from Germans was concerned primarily with the location of Soviet plants, and though it was useful, it offered little in the realm of predictive intelligence.19 The main preoccupation of Western atomic intelligence throughout the period was with estimating Soviet stocks of uranium, and this continued up until the mid-1950s. Initially Western authorities had felt that uranium would be the limiting factor in the Soviet drive for an atomic bomb, and this view was especially pronounced in US estimates. In many respects it was for this reason that Joe-1 was such a shock to the West. Despite this failure, monitoring of the uranium mines in East Germany provided good evidence on Soviet weapons stockpiles, and this was in addition to the myriad of reports by PoWs involved in its mining and technicians employed on its enrichment. In summation, therefore, it is hard to disagree with Twigge and Scott’s conclusion that ‘estimates and appreciations were based on deductive and inductive reasoning rather than accurate, timely and reliable intelligence.’20 Despite being unable to effectively penetrate the inner workings of the Soviet nuclear weapons programme, Anglo-American atomic intelligence did miss some opportunities to gather information. In addition to gaining an idea of the enemy programme, it is vital to comprehend what the enemy knows about you. In this respect the string of espionage cases throughout the 1940s and 1950s should have been vital to the production of intelligence estimates, yet their lessons were often overlooked. The disclosures of the Alan Nunn May case, in 1946, and the implications drawn that atomic espionage was a high priority for the Soviet Union, were never acted upon until the suspicions against Philby reached a crescendo in the mid-1950s—despite the revelations against Klaus Fuchs, Bruno Pontecorvo, John Cairncross, and Donald Maclean, all of whom had had varying levels of access to atomic secrets. The exact

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reasoning of why these cases were never fully evaluated lies beyond the scope of this study, but suffice it to say that the lessons were never drawn. From the early 1950s onwards, the emphasis of atomic intelligence moved from prediction to both monitoring future developments and assessing Soviet nuclear weapons stockpiles. The reasoning behind such a transition was twofold: Firstly, it was realised that while Soviet weaponry was now technologically advanced the limiting strategic factor was the physical number of weapons the Soviets possessed. Secondly, and of primary relevance to the United Kingdom, Soviet scientific developments had surpassed British achievements, and this made analysis of their programme difficult. The effort to monitor the Soviet testing of nuclear devices was hugely successful. Of the tests conducted in this period, the Anglo-American long-rangedetection programme monitored the vast majority. This was crucial for three reasons: It ensured a high level of scientific collaboration between the United States and Britain on the joint analysis of such tests; it enabled the West to keep abreast of Soviet developments; and again of more importance to Britain, it provided information that could be used for national nuclear weapons programmes. Estimating the size of the Soviet stockpile was also a very successful endeavour. Coordinated through the scientifically elaborate Operation Nomination and then the Music Programme, British and American intelligence were able to amass good information that could be used to calculate the number of Soviet weapons. This process became more difficult from the mid-1950s, once it became clear that a whole range of different bombs could be made from the same material. This, together with a British awareness that the Soviets had reached ‘nuclear sufficiency’—that they now possessed enough weapons to carry out any number of war plans—forced a reevaluation of the worth of the Music Programme. The decision was taken to prolong it for a further three to four years primarily, it appears, to augment Anglo-American relations. In late 1958 the programme was wound down, in many respects a good example of Allen Dulles’ maxim that ‘most intelligence operations have a limited span of usefulness. The most difficult decision is when to taper off and when to stop.’21 It was recognised at an early stage that the key to the capabilities of the Soviet nuclear programme lay in its ability to deliver the weapons.22 Intelligence on Soviet long-range bombers was good. The long-range-detection programme became increasingly useful from the mid-1950s onwards, once the Soviet Union began to test advanced ballistic missiles. In 1956 and 1957, trials of nuclear devices at the missile ranges forced Anglo-American intelligence to reevaluate the programme, resulting in the correctly perceived marriage

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between the Soviet nuclear and missile programmes. This union reached a synergy in late 1957 with Sputnik, forcing a further reappraisal of Soviet technological abilities primarily in America but also to a lesser extent in Britain. In summary, Anglo-American intelligence was able to keep extremely well informed on the development of Soviet nuclear weapons through the successes of the monitoring network. While predictive intelligence was not as forthcoming, this became of a lesser concern from the early 1950s, perhaps due to an awareness of its limitations. Through the long-range-detection network, in addition to the Music Programme, a vital line of communication was maintained across the Atlantic, which would prove to be invaluable in restoring technical atomic relations. Anglo-American Relations

During the war the British had initially been reluctant to collaborate with the Americans because they were not entirely convinced of their trustworthiness. Despite excellent relations, crystallised through both the Manhattan Project and the intelligence efforts against the German programme, in 1946 Britain’s atomic world came tumbling down with the Atomic Energy Act, more commonly referred to as the McMahon Act after its chief instigator, Senator Brien McMahon. The act severed all channels through which technical information could cross the Atlantic. Less affected, though still plagued by the act, were atomic intelligence relations. In the postwar period, the wartime practice of stationing British atomic intelligence liaison officers in America, and vice versa, continued. Thus, for example, a British representative was initially located within the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Group in Washington. By 1947, however, relations had grown sour, aided no doubt by the relative incoherence of the American atomic intelligence scene by this time. The chief figure to help resurrect relations was Dr Wilfrid Mann, who, fortuitously, was related to the head of intelligence within the Atomic Energy Commission. That Mann helped resurrect atomic intelligence relations cannot be doubted. By 1948 this was evident in two directly related ways: The British and the Americans had agreed upon a modus vivendi whereby they would maintain a channel of communication relating to the distant detection of foreign nuclear tests; at the same time both parties had begun investigations and collaboration into the development and improvement of this detection capability. Area 5, the particular part of the agreement that related to long-range monitoring, was soon extended to include the detection of nuclear plants. Through this arrangement, the first seeds were sown for the two areas that would be the greatest

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lines of collaboration for Britain—long-range detection and Operation Nomination and the Music Programme. In many respects the 1948 modus vivendi was the greatest single event in Anglo-American atomic intelligence relations, because every subsequent development can be traced back to it. A year later the renewed Atlantic partnership was put to the test with the detection of the first Soviet atomic detonation. In fact, by this time relations had improved to the extent that conversation in Washington was about dismantling the McMahon Act and resuming full exchange. However, in January 1950 the first of the major spy cases of the 1950s occurred, with the revelations about Klaus Fuchs’ treachery. This event, deeply damaging as it was to both nations, was to further harm Britain, for the Americans decided to abandon their collaborative plans. Despite the setback to technical relations, the atomic intelligence ‘special relationship’ remained relatively unharmed. This was due primarily to the growing belief in the United States in the advantages good collaboration could bring. The major intelligence operations in the 1950s were all outgrowths of the 1948 agreement. The detection network increased in size and stature, and through the British Commonwealth the Americans were able to locate stations in places that would otherwise have been inaccessible. Similarly, US efforts to monitor levels of krypton-85 in the atmosphere, in order to calculate Soviet stocks of plutonium, were also assisted through the proximity of British bases to the Soviet Union. In addition, the Americans undoubtedly also benefited from British radiochemical analysis, as indeed was the case the other way around. Samples from every Soviet test, and a great many of the American tests, were passed to the British for examination. Here a strange dichotomy existed, however: After the Soviet weapons programme progressed to advanced thermonuclear designs, it would have been difficult for British scientists to assist in analysis because, until early 1956, the British did not know how to construct a hydrogen bomb.23 Is it possible therefore that the American intelligence community also provided the British with some hints of what to look for? If so, could these be the ‘snippets’ of information that Sir William Penney constantly referred to when describing the evolution of the hydrogen bomb? Arguably, then, the Anglo-American partnership was therefore based not on any one overriding factor, but rather on a combination. For the British the relationship was also important, for not only could they exploit the greater resources available to the Americans, but crucially it allowed them a channel of communication into the US weapons programme. In this respect Richard Aldrich is correct in asserting that ‘the reasons for the persistence of the AngloAmerican intelligence relationship ran deeper than the mere availability of

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valuable real estate, convenient though that was.’24 The poor cooperation and knowledge Britain had in regard to American war plans and targeting on the operational side stands in stark contrast to the Anglo-American intelligence relationship. Discussions at Bermuda in late 1953, as well as the revisions to the McMahon Act in 1954, considerably assisted relations. A further revision of the McMahon Act in mid-1955 was even more important in improving Britain’s standing, for it allowed greater collaboration in the intelligence field. This was to prove to be vital with the detonation of Joe-19, the Soviet Union’s first true thermonuclear device, in November 1955. It is entirely plausible that analysis of the debris in early 1956 informed the British as to the correct path to construction of their own bomb, leading to their thermonuclear bomb tests in 1957 and 1958. By 1958 Prime Minister Harold Macmillan’s ‘great prize’ had been realised—the resumption of full technical exchange with the Americans. In the achievement of this, the impact of the atomic intelligence partnership should not be underestimated. Consider, for example, that since the end of the war, each time technical relations faltered, the one constant throughout was the intelligence relationship. This persistent relationship assisted in the various revisions to the McMahon Act, as it also did in improving Britain’s standing with various leading figures in the Eisenhower administration. Consequently, as Aldrich has concluded, ‘intelligence played a vital role in cementing the Anglo-American alliance as a whole during the Cold War, a period when Britain was continually shifting towards a more subordinate position vis-à-vis the United States. Britain’s intelligence contribution was important, helping to offset the growing postwar imbalance of the “special relationship.” ’25 The relationship created and forged beginning in the late 1940s continued into the 1960s and beyond. In this respect Secretary of State Dean Rusk succinctly summed up the collaboration thus: ‘At bottom the most concrete proof that the United States and the United Kingdom are each other’s favoured partner is found in the fields of nuclear weaponry and intelligence. Each government provides the other with material and information that it makes available to no-one else.’26 The Soviet Threat in Context

Numerous published accounts deal with the Soviet threat and American perceptions of it.27 These works, often fascinating, deal primarily with the Soviet ‘bomber gap’ and subsequent ‘missile gap.’ The American intelligence machinery was, and indeed remains, far less centralised than its British counterpart. Both ‘gaps’ were figments in the imagination of the US intelligence

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community, based in the main on overestimating the Soviet potential in order to procure greater funds for military development.28 Though concentrating on the same adversary and the same military programmes, British intelligence operated in a somewhat different manner. Within Britain the competition between the navy and air force for funds would take place slightly later, in particular in terms of these organisations’ relative roles in operating the British nuclear deterrent.29 Therefore, there was less of a hidden driver at this time behind British intelligence estimates. Ultimately Britain was in a far different situation compared to the Americans. Whereas the United States was always the leader in this period in terms of nuclear weapons technology, Britain lagged behind both nuclear superpowers. In addition, Britain was far more vulnerable than the United States. For the majority of the period, there were never any serious beliefs that the USSR would launch a nuclear offensive, largely because the means did not exist to effectively threaten the American mainland. Britain, in comparison, was within range from the outset. In addition, the Soviet Union had the largest conventional army on the Eurasian landmass. Thus, as early as 1945 the Tizard Report had emphasised Britain’s uniquely susceptible position. While these factors may not have had an impact on the conclusions Britain reached regarding the Soviet capability for war, they would mean that estimates of Soviet intentions vis-à-vis nuclear weapons would be different. As a consequence, therefore, the critical British objective was to ensure American support, and once more the atomic intelligence relationship played an integral role in providing for this. Perhaps the real question is what difference did all this make? Counterfactual history is a tool that often can be used to great effect. The Soviet Union, it seems, would never have seriously contemplated war with the West.30 Given the American atomic arsenal, it is also unlikely that even if Britain had not developed a nuclear deterrent, the Soviet Union would ever have dared risk war. However, it is much more difficult to evaluate whether, if there had been no atomic intelligence organisation, the cold war would have been different. Atomic intelligence provided the West with an awareness of the Soviet capability to wage war. In the minds of those who mattered, Soviet capabilities were intimately linked to Soviet intentions. Therefore, while the Soviets were without the capability to wage war, their intentions were perceived to be far less aggressive. Given that it was not until 1957 that the Western intelligence community first believed that the Soviets had reached ‘nuclear sufficiency,’ it was felt that hostility would not be risked until then. Interestingly, therefore, the first postwar estimates—that the Soviet Union would not risk conflict until 1957—were perfectly accurate.

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More than any other aspect of intelligence, the atomic intelligence programme directly addressed Britain’s sense of its own alarming strategic vulnerability. It did this in two ways: Firstly, it provided a line of military communication with the Americans. This was especially crucial given the feelings in the late 1940s as to America’s isolationist stance towards Britain.31 Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it provided a level of psychological reassurance in a period in which it was often difficult to find. Britain’s economic, military, and political decline after the Second World War had a devastating effect on confidence. By providing estimates on the military potential of the adversary, it was possible to rationalise an alarming predicament—this is encapsulated in the JIC’s ‘Weekly Summary of Current Intelligence,’ usually beginning with the phrase ‘There are no indications of Soviet military aggression.’32 In conclusion, therefore, it is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to disagree with Michael Herman’s maxim that ‘intelligence was in some ways the cold war waged by other means.’33

Reference Matter

Notes

Introduction

1. R.J. Aldrich, The Hidden Hand: Britain, America and Cold War Secret Intelligence, 1945–1964 (London: John Murray, 2001), p. 5. 2. Cited in R. Rhodes, The Making of the Atomic Bomb (London: Simon and Schuster, 1986), p. 672. 3. For more on this, see D. Irving, The Virus House: Germany’s Atomic Research and Allied Counter-Measures (London: William Kimber, 1967); A. Kramish, The Griffin: The Greatest Untold Espionage Story of World War II (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1986). 4. For an excellent survey, see J. Lewis, Changing Direction: British Military Planning for Post-war Strategic Defence, 1942–7 (London: Frank Cass, 2002). 5. S. Twigge and L. Scott, Planning Armageddon: Britain, the United States and the Command of Western Nuclear Forces, 1945–1964 (Amsterdam: Harwood, 2000), p. 258. 6. C. Becker, ‘What Is Historiography?’ American Historical Review 44:1 (October 1938), p. 20; R. Jeffreys-Jones, ‘The Historiography of the CIA,’ Historical Journal 23:2 (1980), p. 489. 7. S.A. Goudsmit, Alsos: The Failure in German Science (New York: Schuman, 1947); B.T. Pash, The Alsos Mission (New York: Charter, 1969); L.J. Mahoney, ‘A History of the War Department Scientific Intelligence Mission (Alsos), 1943–45’ (PhD diss., Kent State University, 1983). For more specific information on the British role, see R.V. Jones, Most Secret War: British Scientific Intelligence 1939–1945 (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1978), pp. 478–80; Kramish, The Griffin; the best account is in Irving, The Virus House. 8. W.B. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? Quintessential Recollections (Oxford: Pergamon, 1982), pp. 66–90; R.V. Jones, Reflections on Intelligence (London: Mandarin, 1990), pp. 16–19, 23–29. 9. P. Hennessy, The Secret State: Whitehall and the Cold War (London: Penguin, 2002); P. Cradock, Know Your Enemy: How the Joint Intelligence Committee Saw the World (London: John Murray, 2002). 10. C. Ziegler and D. Jacobson, Spying Without Spies: Origins of America’s Secret Nuclear Surveillance System (London: Praeger, 1995); C.A. Ziegler, ‘Intelligence Assessments

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of the Soviet Atomic Capability, 1945–1949: Myths, Monopolies and Maskirovka,’ Intelligence and National Security 12:4 (October 1997), pp. 1–24; L. Aronsen, ‘Seeing Red: US Air Force Assessments of the Soviet Union, 1945–1949,’ Intelligence and National Security 16:2 (Summer 2001), pp. 103–32. 11. Aronsen, ‘Seeing Red,’ pp. 121, 124. 12. Ziegler, ‘Intelligence Assessments,’ pp. 5, 10–15; Ziegler and Jacobson, Spying, pp. 31, 68–69. 13. H.S. Lowenhaupt, ‘Mission to Birch Woods, Via Seven Tents and New Siberia,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence (Fall 1968), pp. 1–12; Lowenhaupt, ‘Ravelling Russia’s Reactors,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence (Fall 1972), pp. 65–79; Lowenhaupt, ‘Chasing Bitterfeld Calcium,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence (Spring 1973), pp. 21–30; Lowenhaupt, ‘On the Soviet Nuclear Scent,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence, https://www.cia.gov/csi/kent_csi/ authormn.htm. 14. D.C. Watt, ‘The Historiography of Intelligence in International Review,’ in Intelligence in the Cold War: Organisation, Role and International Cooperation, ed. L.C. Jenssen and O. Riste (Oslo: Norwegian Institute for Defence Studies, 2001), pp. 173–92. 15. L. Freedman, US Intelligence and the Soviet Strategic Threat, 2nd ed. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986). 16. J. Prados, The Soviet Estimate: US Intelligence Analysis and Russian Military Strength (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989); J. Richelson, American Espionage and the Soviet Target (New York: Morrow, 1987). Chapter 1

1. Kerr to Ernest Bevin, 3 December 1945. Foreign Relations of the United States. 1945, vol. 2 (Washington, DC: US GPO, 1967), p. 83. 2. For instance, R.V. Jones, Reflections on Intelligence (London: Mandarin, 1990). 3. J.G. Crowther and R. Whiddington, Science at War (London: HMSO, 1947), p. 121. 4. H.A.R. Philby, My Silent War: The Autobiography of Kim Philby (London: Grafton, 1989), p. 142. 5. P.H.J. Davies, ‘Institutionalising Intelligence: The Development of MI6 Internal Organisation and the Whitehall Village Market for Espionage,’ Proceedings of the 1994 UK Political Studies Association annual conference, p. 10. Unfortunately this unit came under the control of SIS officer Kim Philby, who by this time was an employee of the Soviet intelligence services. See Chapter 3. 6. ‘Post-war Strategic Survey,’ RAF Post-War Target Force, 20 October 1944. National Archives: Public Record Office (hereafter PRO): AIR 20/3742. 7. Consider for example, Sir Orme Sargent’s report ‘Stocktaking After VE Day,’ Documents on British Policy Overseas, series 1, vol. 1 (London: HMSO, 1984), document 102. 8. ‘Intelligence on Atomic Energy,’ JIC/1468/45, 11 October 1945. PRO: CAB 176/8. Also see M. Smith, The Spying Game: The Secret History of British Espionage (London: Politico’s, 2003), p. 188. 9. Air Chief Marshal Sir G. Garrod to Marshal of the RAF Lord Tedder, 18 March 1948. PRO: AIR 75/116. 10. P. Lashmar, Spy Flights of the Cold War (Gloucestershire: Sutton, 1998), p. 21. 11. The Effects of the Atomic Bombs at Hiroshima and Nagasaki: Report of the British Mission to Japan (London: HMSO, 1946), esp. paragraphs 38, 89, and 94. 12. R.J. Aldrich, The Hidden Hand: Britain, America and Cold War Secret Intelligence, 1945–1964 (London: John Murray, 2001), p. 371.

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13. J. Lewis, Changing Direction: British Military Planning for Post-war Strategic Defence, 1942–7 (London: Frank Cass, 2002), pp. 191–241. 14. P. Cradock, Know Your Enemy: How the Joint Intelligence Committee Saw the World (London: John Murray, 2002), p. 50. 15. ‘Status of Russian Atomic Energy Project,’ JIC (47) 64th Meeting (0), 24 September 1947. PRO: CAB 159/2. 16. A nine-line note was in the bottom corner of a page in the journal Physical Review 58 (1 July 1940), p. 89. 17. ‘Status of Russian Atomic Energy Project,’ 30 July 1947. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 18. Butler to Rickett, 6 December 1945. PRO: FO 800/555. This information came courtesy of Professor Eric Ashby, who happened to be at the Scientist Rest House outside Leningrad (St. Petersburg) when the Hiroshima news came through on the radio and witnessed firsthand Kapitza’s reaction. 19. ‘Estimate of Russian Atomic Weapons Programme and Timetable,’ November 1948. PRO: DEFE 21/45. Clearly the British were unaware, therefore, of the extent of Soviet wartime penetration of the Los Alamos programme. 20. Roberts to Warner, 27 December 1945. PRO: CAB 126/155. The information came from Professor Kapustinsky of the Academy of Sciences. 21. D. Holloway, ‘Entering the Nuclear Arms Race: The Soviet Decision to Build the Atomic Bomb, 1939–45,’ Social Studies of Science 11 (1981), pp. 186–87. 22. For some brief details, see D. Irving, The Virus House: Germany’s Atomic Research and Allied Counter-Measures (London: William Kimber, 1967). R.V. Jones has commented that the wartime unit began in 1939. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ 24 November 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 23. ‘Intelligence on Atomic Energy,’ JIC (45) 272 (0), 12 September 1945. PRO: CAB 81/130. 24. ‘Notes on Second Meeting Between Sir John Anderson and Air Vice Marshal Elmhirst on Collection and Collation of Atomic Intelligence,’ JIC/1567/45, 27 October 1945. PRO: CAB 176/8. 25. ‘Intelligence on Atomic Energy,’ JIC (45) 311 (0), COS (45) 269th Meeting, 9 November 1945. PRO: CAB 21/4058. 26. ‘Charter and Terms of Reference Composition.’ PRO: CAB 158/4. 27. ‘Atomic Energy Working Party Charter,’ JS/JTIC (46) 14th Meeting. PRO: DEFE 41/150. 28. I am grateful to various former members of British atomic intelligence for interviews and correspondence, particularly one interview with a former member of the Directorate of Atomic Energy (Intelligence)—D.At.En.(In), 21 February 2003. 29. N. West, MI6: British Secret Intelligence Service Operations, 1909–1945 (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1983), p. 163. Also see S. Dorril, MI6: Fifty Years of Special Operations (London: Fourth Estate, 2000), p. 134. It is unclear why exactly Welsh took this line. Though having no scientific qualifications, he had some knowledge of chemistry through his interwar work in Norway. See A. Kramish, The Griffin: The Greatest Untold Espionage Story of World War II (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1986). 30. See various correspondence in PRO: AB 8/27. 31. Lieutenant General Sir F. Morgan, Peace and War: A Soldier’s Life (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1961). 32. Charles Perrin (son of Sir Michael Perrin), interview with the author, 17 May 2004. 33. Memorandum by R.E. France (assistant secretary, Atomic Energy [S]1), 9 May 1953. PRO: AB 8/27.

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34. A. Cavendish, Inside Intelligence: The Revelations of an MI6 Officer (London: HarperCollins, 1997), p. 40. 35. For TCS’s role, see R.J. Aldrich, Espionage, Security and Intelligence in Britain, 1945–1970 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), pp. 63–64. 36. P.H.J. Davies, MI6 and the Machinery of Spying: Structure and Process in Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service (London: Frank Cass, 2004). I am grateful to Dr Davies for further discussions about the organisation of SIS. 37. P.H.J. Davies, e-mail message to author, 25 August 2003. 38. ‘Photographic Reconnaissance of Soviet and Soviet Controlled Territories,’ JIC/1174/48, 24 June 1948. PRO: CAB 176/18. 39. ‘Draft Report on “Scientific and Technical Intelligence,’ ” April 1947. PRO: DEFE 9/29. 40. For more see R.S. Norris, Racing for the Bomb: General Leslie R. Groves, the Manhattan Project’s Indispensable Man (Hanover: Steerforth Press, 2003). 41. D. Lilienthal (AEC chairman) to R.F. Patterson (secretary of war), 27 December 1946. Harry S. Truman Presidential Library (hereafter HST): Papers of Clark M. Clifford, Box 1. 42. Admiral Leahy (JCS) to President Truman, 21 August 1946. HST: HST Papers, WHCF Department of the Army, Box 4. 43. ‘Memoirs of Sidney Souers, 15–16 December 1954.’ HST: Post-Presidential Files, Memoirs, Box 642. 44. ‘The Critical Situation with Regard to Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ Research and Development Board, 2 December 1947. HST: HST Papers, SMOF: NSC Files, Box 2. 45. Souers’ report can be found in the National Archives II (hereafter NAII): RG 326, AEC General Correspondence 1946–51, Box 107. 46. ‘The Critical Situation with Regard to Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ Research and Development Board, 2 December 1947. NAII: RG 263, Entry 35 CIA History Source Collection, Box 14. 47. ‘Statement on the Participation by Various Departments,’ n.d. NAII: RG 330, Entry 199 Secretary of Defense, Box 61. Also, Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library (hereafter DDE), White House Office, NSC Staff: Papers, 1948–61, Executive Secretary’s Subject File Series, Box 1. 48. W.G. Jackson, Allen Welsh Dulles as Director of Central Intelligence, 26 February 1953–29 November 1962, vol. 2, Coordination of Intelligence (CIA Historical Staff), pp. 62–63, DDE Historical Collection. 49. R. Blum (Office of the Secretary of Defense) to Mr. Ohly, 22 May 1948. NAII: RG 330, Entry 199 Secretary of Defense Numerical File, Box 1. 50. See various correspondence in PRO: CAB 126/248. 51. L.L. Strauss (AEC) to Senator B.B. Hickenlooper (chairman, Joint Committee on Atomic Energy), 30 April 1948. NAII: RG 341, Entry 214 Deputy Chief of Staff Operations, Box 35. 52. Strauss to Hickenlooper, 18 November 1948. NAII: RG 326, AEC General Correspondence 1946–51, Box 107. 53. Gattiker too was a veteran of the wartime Alsos mission. 54. H.S. Lowenhaupt, ‘Chasing Bitterfeld Calcium,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence (Spring 1973), pp. 21–22. Lowenhaupt was a nuclear specialist within the CIA and was involved in such activities from the mid-1940s onwards. 55. For more, see R.G. Hewlett and O.A. Anderson, Jr., The New World: Volume I of a History of the US Atomic Energy Commission 1939–1946 (State College: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1962), pp. 482–530.

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56. P. Maddrell, ‘British-American Scientific Intelligence Collaboration During the Occupation of Germany,’ Intelligence and National Security 15:2 (Summer 2000), pp. 76–78. 57. C.A. Ziegler and D. Jacobson, Spying Without Spies: Origins of America’s Secret Nuclear Surveillance System (London: Praeger, 1995), pp. 14–21, 68–69. 58. W.B. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? Quintessential Recollections (Oxford: Pergamon, 1982), p. 60. 59. W.B. Mann, ‘Sixty Years in and out of Physics.’ I am grateful to Mann’s daughter, Professor Kris Mann, for providing the transcript of this talk given by her father. 60. Wilfrid Mann’s papers at the National Institute for Science and Technology in Washington reveal some details of these reasons. 61. Mann, ‘Sixty Years.’ 62. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? p. 62. 63. This success has been confirmed by an American source. 64. W. Mann, interview with C. Ziegler. I am grateful to Professor Charles Ziegler for this information, which he collected in preparation for his book Spying Without Spies. 65. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? p. 64. 66. Mann, ‘Sixty Years.’ 67. GAT118, BJSM Washington to Cabinet Office, 26 April 1948. PRO: CAB 126/248. 68. ‘Interview with Roger Makins,’ 15 June 1964. HST: Interview Number 196. 69. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? p. 65. 70. Dr Arnold Kramish, e-mail message to author, 14 January 2003. 71. Dr Arnold Kramish, e-mail message to author, 21 March 2003. 72. B. Blount (head of scientific intelligence), ‘Organisation of Scientific Intelligence— Deficiencies of the Present Organisation,’ October 1949. PRO: DEFE 40/26. 73. ‘Intelligence on Tube Alloys,’ JIC/1275/45, 5 September 1945. PRO: CAB 176/7. 74. ‘Notes on Second Meeting Between Sir John Anderson and Air Vice Marshal Elmhirst on Collection and Collation of Atomic Intelligence,’ JIC/1567/45, 27 October 1945. PRO: CAB 176/8. 75. For his wartime career, see Kramish, The Griffin, pp. 156–65. 76. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? p. 62. 77. Cavendish, Inside Intelligence, p. 192. Also see R.V. Jones, Most Secret War: British Scientific Intelligence 1939–1945 (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1978), pp. 308–9. 78. For example, H. Parker to Brownjohn, 24 October 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 79. R.V. Jones, ‘Thicker Than Heavy Water,’ Chemistry and Industry (August 26, 1967), pp. 1419–24. 80. ‘Estimate of Russian Atomic Weapons Programme and Timetable,’ November 1948. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 81. Aldrich, Hidden Hand, p. 229. 82. Ibid., p. 218. 83. G. Turney, ‘Naval Scientific Intelligence,’ 10 October 1949. PRO: DEFE 40/26. 84. It is unclear whether or not the Soviet Union was aware of this reliance, but there certainly appears to have been some sort of deception campaign. For example, in November 1947 Molotov proclaimed that the Soviet Union possessed the ‘secret of the atom bomb.’ See the various correspondence in PRO: FO 115/4477. 85. H.D. Smyth, A General Account of the Development of Methods of Using Atomic Energy for Military Purposes Under the Auspices of the United States Government, 1940–1945 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1945). Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, pp. 400–407.

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86. Cited in E. Rabinowitch, ‘The Atomic Secrets,’ Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 3:2 (February 1947), p. 33. 87. Chadwick to F.M. Sir H. Maitland Wilson, 4 August 1945. PRO: CAB 126/2. In fact his observation would prove to be correct in the 1990s when intelligence agencies learnt about the Iraqi nuclear weapons programme. 88. Y. Khariton and Y. Smirnov, ‘The Khariton Version,’ Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (May 1993), p. 21. 89. D. Holloway, Stalin and the Bomb: The Soviet Union and Atomic Energy, 1939–1956 (London: Yale University Press, 1994), pp. 182–83. 90. R. Rhodes, Dark Sun: The Making of the Hydrogen Bomb (London: Simon and Schuster, 1955), p. 215. 91. The Alamogordo test has, in this way, been likened to the Book of Revelation. M. Gowing, Reflections on Atomic Energy History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), p. 23. 92. For further information, see H. Montgomery Hyde, The Atom Bomb Spies (London: Sphere, 1982). 93. Cited in W. Tschikow and G. Kern, Perseus: Spionage in Los Alamos (Berlin: Verlag, Volk and Welt, 1996), p. 33. 94. ‘Leakages of Information on Atomic Energy,’ JIC/683/46, 17 May 1946. PRO: CAB 176/11. 95. ‘Status of Russian Atomic Energy Project,’ 30 July 1947. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 96. ‘Russian Intelligence Activity,’ 13 May 1947. PRO: DEFE 41/25. The report does not specify which of the two Soviet intelligence services, though at this time all atomic espionage came under the control of the MGB (precursor to the KGB). 97. V. Lota, GRU i Atomnaya Bomba (Moscow: Olma Press, 2002), p. 226–34. I am grateful to Chapman Pincher for further elucidation. 98. Director, STIB, to Director, Operations and Plans, 13 May 1947. PRO: DEFE 41/25. 99. New York (Hollis) to London (Philby), 2 March 1946. PRO: KV 2/1422. 100. J. Edgar Hoover (director, FBI) to M. Connelly (secretary to the president), 12 September 1945. HST: PSF Subject File: FBI, Box 145. Also see various correspondence in Box 147. 101. ‘Russian Knowledge of the Atomic Bomb,’ JIC (47) 87th Meeting, 10 December 1947. PRO: CAB 159/2. 102. P. Kelly, ‘How the USSR Broke into the Nuclear Club,’ New Scientist 110 (8 May 1986), p. 32. 103. Butler to Rickett, 6 December 1945. PRO: FO 800/555. 104. Roberts to Warner, 27 December 1945. PRO: CAB 126/155. 105. See, for example, L.D. Landau, ‘The Uranium Atom—A Source of Energy,’ Ogonyok (2 September 1945). Cited in Roberts to Warner, 12 October 1945. PRO: CAB 126/155. 106. Z.A. Medvedev, ‘Stalin and the Atomic Bomb,’ Spokesman 67 (1999), p. 61. 107. D. Holloway, The Soviet Union and the Arms Race (London: Yale University Press, 1984), p. 22. 108. Lashmar, Spy Flights, p. 30. See also H. Boog, ‘The WRINGER Project: German Ex-POWs as Intelligence Sources on the Soviet Union,’ in Secret Intelligence in the Twentieth Century, ed. H. Bungert, J.G. Heitmann, and M. Wala (London: Frank Cass, 2003), pp. 83–91. 109. T. Reed and A. Kramish, ‘Trinity at Dubna,’ Physics Today (November 1996), p. 34.

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110. N. Riehl and F. Seitz, Stalin’s Captive: Nikolaus Riehl and the Soviet Race for the Bomb (Chicago: American Chemical Society, 1996), p. 33. 111. For more details, see the description of STIB in the listings for DEFE 41 at the Public Record Office, Kew. 112. D.E. Evans, ‘Talk on Scientific and Technical Intelligence Branch.’ PRO: DEFE 41/125. 113. Maddrell, ‘British-American Scientific Intelligence Collaboration,’ p. 85. 114. Perrin to Major General J.C. Haydon (Intelligence Division, Control Commission for Germany), 8 February 1950. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 115. Director of Analysis (STIB) to D. Evans (director, STIB), 1 April 1950. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 116. Haydon to Director, STIB, 28 February 1949. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 117. ‘Status of Russian Atomic Energy Project,’ JIC/944/47, 13 September 1947. PRO: CAB 176/15. 118. ‘Priorities of Tasks for the Collection of Intelligence Information in Germany,’ JIC (49) 46 (Final), 15 June 1949. PRO: CAB 158/7. 119. ‘The Organisation and Functions of STIB,’ November 1950. PRO: DEFE 21/24. 120. P. Maddrell, ‘Britain’s Exploitation of Occupied Germany for Scientific and Technical Intelligence on the Soviet Union’ (PhD diss., Cambridge University, 1998), p. 72. 121. For example, see PW Interrogation Reports in PRO: DEFE 41/23. 122. ‘JIC (49) 5th Meeting,’ 13 January 1949. PRO: CAB 159/5. Postal censorship in Germany had begun in December 1948. 123. ‘Selection of Some German Scientists and Technicians Who Have Returned to Germany After Acquiring UK Defence Security Information,’ JIC/934/49, 25 May 1949. PRO: CAB 176/22. 124. H.S. Lowenhaupt, ‘On the Soviet Nuclear Scent,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence, https://www.cia.gov/csi/kent_csi/authormn.htm. 125. Combined Anglo-American Intelligence Unit, ‘German Scientists in Russia,’ 23 May 1947. PRO: CAB 126/247. 126. Lowenhaupt, ‘Chasing Bitterfeld Calcium.’ All the preceding information on the plant comes from this eyewitness account. 127. R.C. Nesbit, Eyes of the RAF: A History of Photo-Reconnaissance (Surrey: Quadrillion, 1997), pp. 241, 238. Also see Aldrich, Hidden Hand, p. 25. 128. Lashmar, Spy Flights, p. 40. 129. ‘JIC (48) 68 (Final),’ September 1948. PRO: CAB 158/4. 130. Lashmar, Spy Flights, pp. 28–29. 131. Bayley to Secretary JIC and Chairman JSIC, JIC/1076/46, 8 August 1946. PRO: CAB 176/12. 132. Group Captain G.J.C. Paul, Air Ministry, ‘Report of Strategic Photographic Reconnaissance Conference’ and ‘Intelligence Survey,’ 4 October 1950. PRO: AIR 14/3879. 133. Gowing, Reflections, p. 16. 134. ‘JIC/1386/46,’ 10 October 1946. PRO: CAB 176/13. 135. R.G. Elkington (MoS) to D.E.H. Peirson (Atomic Energy Authority), 3 August 1955. PRO: AB 8/27. 136. ‘JIC/995/46,’ 26 July 1946. PRO: CAB 176/12. 137. D.E. Lilienthal, Journals, vol. 2, The Atomic Energy Years, 1945–1950 (New York: Harper and Row, 1964), p. 486. In hindsight, of course, it appears that the West was correct in producing mirror-image assessments, considering the impact of atomic espionage on the first Soviet atomic bomb.

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138. Roberts to Warner, 8 March 1946. PRO: CAB 126/155. 139. ‘Summary of Intelligence on Russian Development for the Defence Research Policy Committee. Section VI Scientific Potential of the USSR,’ MoD, 22 June 1949. PRO: DEFE 7/1753. 140. ‘Russia’s Strategic Interests and Intentions,’ JIC (46) 1 (0) Final (Revise), 1 March 1946. PRO: CAB 81/132. 141. B.J.S.M. Washington to Cabinet Offices, 18 September 1945. PRO: FO 800/555. 142. ‘Russia’s Strategic Interests and Intentions,’ JIC (46) 1 (0) Final (Revise), 1 March 1946. PRO: CAB 81/132. 143. ‘Estimate of Russian Atomic Weapons Programme and Timetable,’ JS/JTIC (49) 12 (FINAL), 17 February 1949. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 144. ‘Intelligence Aspects of Russian Interest in Nuclear Energy,’ 1 September 1946. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 145. ‘Survey over Intelligence Aspects of Atomic Energy,’ 1 September 1946. PRO: CAB 126/247. 146. ‘Intelligence Aspects of Russian Interest in Nuclear Energy,’ 1 September 1946. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 147. For an analysis of Kapitza’s role in relation to the atomic project, see A. Kozhevniko, ‘Piotr Kapitza and Stalin’s Government: A Study in Moral Choice,’ Historical Studies in the Physical and Biological Sciences 22:1 (1991), pp. 153–61. 148. ‘Intelligence Aspects of Russian Interest in Nuclear Energy,’ 1 September 1946. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 149. ‘Survey over Intelligence Aspects of Atomic Energy,’ 1 September 1946. PRO: CAB 126/247. 150. ‘German Scientists in Russia,’ May 1947. PRO: CAB 126/247. 151. ‘Intelligence Aspects of Russian Interest in Nuclear Energy,’ 1 September 1946. PRO: DEFE 21/45. Riehl wrote an autobiography, Ten Years in a Golden Cage; the unabridged translated version can be found in Riehl and Seitz, Stalin’s Captive, pp. 67–210. 152. Dr Elbel, ‘Work on Heavy Water in LEUNA,’ 8 May 1948. PRO: DEFE 41/24. 153. ‘Brief on German Aspects of Russian Atomic Energy Project,’ Annex I to ‘Status of Russian Atomic Energy Project,’ JIC/944/47, 13 September 1947. PRO: CAB 176/15. 154. ‘Estimate of Russian Atomic Weapons Programme and Timetable,’ 28 January 1949. PRO: DEFE 21/45. This report was a revised version of earlier ones. 155. ‘Summary of Intelligence on Russian Interest in Heavy Water,’ 12 August 1948. PRO: DEFE 21/48. 156. ‘Estimate of Russian Atomic Weapons Programme and Timetable,’ 28 January 1949. PRO: DEFE 21/45; Holloway, Stalin and the Bomb, pp. 180–83, 189. 157. N. Moss, The Politics of Uranium (London: Andre Deutsch, 1981), p. v. 158. ‘Russian Interests, Intentions and Capabilities,’ JIC (48) 9 (0) FINAL, 23 July 1948. PRO: CAB 158/3. 159. ‘Summary of Intelligence on Russian Development for D.R.P. Committee— Atomic Energy,’ JS/JTIC (49) 11th Meeting, 6 April 1949. PRO: DEFE 41/72. 160. Ziegler and Jacobson, Spying Without Spies, pp. 22–33. 161. There appears to have been some concern among the British as to Russians’ reaction to this project. See C. Warner, ‘Atomic Energy,’ 9 September 1945. PRO: FO 800/542. 162. C.A. Ziegler, ‘Intelligence Assessments of the Soviet Atomic Capability, 1945–1949: Myths, Monopolies and Maskirovka,’ Intelligence and National Security 12:4 (October 1997), p. 2.

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163. ‘Joint Anglo-American T.A. Intelligence and Information Organisation,’ 6 November 1945. PRO: CAB 126/247. 164. ‘Intelligence Aspects of Russian Interest in Nuclear Energy,’ 1 September 1946. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 165. ‘JIC (48) 12th Meeting (0),’ 11 February 1948. PRO: CAB 159/3. 166. ‘Summary of Intelligence on Russian Development for the Defence Research Policy Committee,’ MoD, 22 June 1949. PRO: DEFE 7/1753. 167. ‘Intelligence Aspects of Russian Interest in Nuclear Energy: Addendum I— Industrial Effort,’ 26 February 1947. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 168. ‘Status of Russian Atomic Energy Project,’ JIC/944/47, 13 September 1947. PRO: CAB 176/15. Also see the numerous reports in CAB 126/74, from 1945 to 1946, which are confirmed in a D.At.En.(In) report of 1 June 1947. 169. ‘Summary of Intelligence on Russian Development—Atomic Energy,’ JS/JTIC (49) 27 (FINAL), 6 April 1949. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 170. ‘Survey of Intelligence on Atomic Energy,’ JIC/1187/46, 30 August 1946. PRO: CAB 176/12. 171. ‘Survey over Intelligence Aspects of Atomic Energy in European Countries,’ JIC (46) 36 (0), 29 March 1946. PRO: CAB 81/132. 172. ‘Calcium Production at Bitterfeld,’ 27 May 1947. PRO: CAB 126/247. 173. ‘Status of Russian Atomic Energy Project,’ 30 July 1947. PRO: DEFE 21/45. Interestingly, Riehl’s work was greatly aided by information from the Smyth Report. See Holloway, Stalin and the Bomb, pp. 178–80. 174. ‘Intelligence Aspects of Russian Interest in Nuclear Energy,’ 1 September 1946. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 175. ‘Joint Anglo-American T.A. Intelligence and Information Organisation,’ 6 November 1945. PRO: CAB 126/247. 176. ‘JIC/745/46,’ 30 May 1946. PRO: CAB 176/11. 177. ‘Soviet Interests, Intentions and Capabilities—General,’ JIC (47) 7/2 (FINAL), 6 August 1947; ‘Forecast of the World Situation in 1957,’ JIC (47) 42 (0) Final, 12 June 1948. PRO: CAB 158/1. 178. Medvedev, ‘Stalin and the Atomic Bomb,’ p. 58. This amounted to one hundred tons, whereas the British recovered more than a thousand tons from Germany. Dorril, MI6, p. 138. 179. Holloway, Stalin and the Bomb, pp. 174–77. 180. ‘USSR: Notes on Aircraft Design and Production,’ A.D.I (Tech) Paper, No. 304/48, September 1948. PRO: DEFE 40/25; S.J. Zaloga, Target America: The Soviet Union and the Strategic Arms Race, 1945–1964 (Novato, CA: Presidio, 1993), pp. 69–79. 181. V. Hardesty, ‘Made in the USSR,’ Smithsonian Air and Space Magazine (March–April 2001). 182. Lashmar, Spy Flights, pp. 27–28. 183. Khariton and Smirnov, ‘Khariton Version,’ pp. 21–22. 184. ‘Soviet Aviation Day,’ CIA Report, 19 July 1949. HST: PSF, Intelligence File, Box 250. 185. USAF Director of Intelligence, ‘Implications of Soviet Atomic Explosion,’ 7 October 1949. NAII: RG 341, Entry 214 Deputy Chief of Staff Operations, Box 46. 186. R.V. Jones, ‘Scientific Intelligence,’ Journal of the Royal United Services Institution (1947), p. 354. 187. Lilienthal, Journals, p. 376. 188. Aldrich, Hidden Hand, pp. 37–38.

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189. P. Cradock, Know Your Enemy: How the Joint Intelligence Committee Saw the World (London: John Murray, 2002), p. 290. 190. For instance, see Dorril, MI6, pp. 133–35. 191. Cited in I. Clark and N.J. Wheeler, The British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, 1945–1955 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), p. 60. Chapter 2

1. ‘Washington to Foreign Office,’ 29 September 1949. National Archives: Public Record Office (hereafter PRO): FO 115/4477. 2. ‘Overt Intelligence on Atomic Energy,’ JIC/995/46, 26 July 1946. PRO: CAB 176/12. 3. Combined Anglo-American Intelligence Unit, ‘Estimate of Russian Atomic Weapons Programme and Timetable,’ 28 January 1949. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 4. COS (45) 651 (0), 10 November 1945. PRO: CAB 122/373. 5. JIC (46) 95 (0) (Final), 12 November 1946. PRO: AIR 20/2740. 6. ‘Soviet Interests, Intentions and Capabilities,’ JIC (47) 7/2 (Final), 6 August 1947. PRO: CAB 158/1. 7. JIC (48) 13 (0), 6 February 1948. PRO: CAB 158/3. 8. JIC (47) 42 (0) Final, 12 June 1948. PRO: CAB 158/1. 9. JIC (48) 9 (0) Final, 23 July 1948. PRO: CAB 158/3. 10. ‘Estimate of Russian Atomic Weapons Programme and Timetable,’ 28 January 1949. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 11. ‘Soviet Intentions and Capabilities,’ JIC (49) 55 (Final), 6 September 1949 (originally written in June 1949). PRO: CAB 158/7. Emphasis in original. 12. ‘Periodic Intelligence Summaries for the Western Europe Commanders-in-Chief Committee—Second Quarterly Summary,’ JIC (49) 4 (Final), 3 May 1949. PRO: CAB 158/6. 13. ‘Soviet Interests, Intentions and Capabilities,’ JIC (47) 7/2 (Final), 6 August 1947. PRO: CAB 158/1. This report conflicts with earlier accounts that detail how ‘the Home Defence Committee [in mid-1947] believed that twenty-five atom bombs would be needed to knock out Britain.’ These accounts were obviously made without access to intelligence reports. L. Freedman, ‘British Nuclear Targeting,’ in Strategic Nuclear Targeting, ed. D. Ball and J. Richelson (London: Cornell University Press, 1986), p. 110. 14. ‘JS/JTIC (49) 11th Meeting,’ 6 April 1949. PRO: DEFE 41/72. 15. ‘Estimate of Russian Atomic Weapons Programme and Timetable,’ JS/JTIC (49) 12, 17 February 1949. PRO: DEFE 21/45. 16. See C.A. Ziegler, ‘Intelligence Assessments of the Soviet Atomic Capability, 1945–1949: Myths, Monopolies and Maskirovka,’ Intelligence and National Security 12:4 (October 1997), pp. 1–24. 17. ‘Soviet Capabilities for the Development and Production of Certain Types of Weapons and Equipment,’ CIG, 31 October 1946. Harry S. Truman Presidential Library (hereafter HST): PSF: Intelligence Files, Box 254. 18. J. Forrestal to Senator Hickenlooper, 22 August 1947. National Archives II (hereafter NAII): RG 330, Entry 199 Secretary of Defense, Box 61. 19. Forrestal to Senator Hickenlooper, 4 May 1948. NAII: RG 330, Entry 199 Secretary of Defense, Box 61. 20. ‘Estimate of the Status of the Russian Atomic Energy Project,’ 1 July 1948. NAII: RG 330, Entry 199 Secretary of Defense, Box 61.

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21. Stated in GAT 143, BJSM Washington to Cabinet Office, 24 November 1948. PRO: CAB 126/248. 22. L. Aronsen, ‘Seeing Red: US Air Force Assessments of the Soviet Union, 1945–1949,’ Intelligence and National Security 16:2 (Summer 2001), pp. 103–32. 23. Admiral L. Denfeld (JCS) to Secretary of Defense, 30 June 1949. NAII: RG 330, Entry 199 Secretary of Defense, Box 61. 24. ‘Status of the USSR Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA, 1 July 1949. HST: PSF: Intelligence File, Box 258. 25. The Ambassador in the Soviet Union (Kirk) to the Secretary of State, 29 September 1949, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1949, vol. 5 (Washington, DC: US GPO, 1976), p. 658. 26. See, for example, the Franck Report, reproduced in full in R. Jungk, Brighter Than a Thousand Suns (London: Harvest, 1986), pp. 348–60. 27. Ziegler, ‘Intelligence Assessments,’ p. 12. 28. American scientist and government adviser Vannevar Bush apparently employed this awareness. D. Yergin, Shattered Peace (Middlesex: Penguin, 1977), p. 135. 29. Dr Arnold Kramish, e-mail message to author, 5 December 2002. 30. Dr Arnold Kramish, e-mail message to author, 3 December 2002. This view was still prevalent in the late 1950s, notably held by Doyle Northrup, the AFOAT-1 technical director. See various correspondence in Lewis L. Strauss Papers (hereafter Strauss Papers), Herbert Hoover Presidential Library: Monitoring Tests, 1958–1970, Box 68. 31. GAT 197, BJSM Washington to Cabinet Office, 6 October 1949. PRO: CAB 126/248. 32. ANCAM 785, 22 January 1947. PRO: CAB 126/320. 33. G. Herken, The Winning Weapon: The Atomic Bomb in the Cold War, 1945–1950 (New York: Knopf, 1980), p. 281. 34. ‘Possibility of War Before the End of 1956,’ JIC (48) 121 (Revised Final), 27 January 1949. PRO: CAB 158/5. 35. JIC/732/49, 22 April 1949. PRO: CAB 176/22. 36. JIC (49) 34th Meeting, 30 March 1949. PRO: CAB 159/5. 37. JIC (49) 3rd Meeting, 7 January 1949. PRO: CAB 159/5. 38. The 1945 estimates indicated that the USSR would have had between 200 and 240 bombs by 1956–57. Estimates made the following year are less easy to determine, but given that it was believed that the Soviets would have produced their first bomb the year before, then for 1956–57 the projected stockpile would be 240 to 280. In 1947 the stockpile was assumed to number only 40 to 60 by 1956–57, while in 1948 this figure had risen to a maximum possible stockpiled bombs between 53 and 63. Finally, for 1949, because it was believed that the Soviet Union would operate only one pile, the projection would have been a maximum of 74 to 86 and a minimum of between 16 and 20. In fact, recent evidence indicates that the Soviet stockpile for 1957 was 650 nuclear weapons. T. Cochran, ‘Nuclear Notebook,’ Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 56:2 (March–April 2000), p. 79. 39. In J. Prados, The Soviet Estimate:US Intelligence Analysis and Soviet Strategic Forces (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), p. 20. 40. AFOAT-1 stands for Air Force, Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations, Atomic Energy Office, Section One. 41. Canterbury to L.L. Strauss, 5 October 1953. Strauss Papers: AEC—Tests/Testing 1947–1954, Box 113. 42. C.A. Ziegler, ‘Waiting for Joe-1: Decisions Leading to the Detection of Russia’s First Atomic Bomb Test,’ Social Studies of Science 18 (1988), pp. 197–229.

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43. Cockcroft to Tizard, 16 February 1949. PRO: AB 16/2676. A copy was sent to Perrin. 44. P(ortal) of H(ungerford) to CAS, 25 February 1948. PRO: AB 16/2676. 45. ‘Memorandum of Technical Discussions with US Side in New York on 22–23 April 1948.’ PRO: AB 16/674. Aerial ionisation is concerned with the study of how radioactive gases interact and mix with the atmosphere. 46. Perrin to Cockcroft and Penney, 12 April 1948. PRO: AB 16/2676. 47. See various correspondence in PRO: AB 1/345 and CAB 126/55. 48. Welsh to Cockcroft, 28 August 1948. PRO: AB 16/275. 49. Cockcroft to Woodward, 10 May 1948. PRO: AB 16/2676. 50. C.A. Ziegler and D. Jacobson, Spying Without Spies: Origins of America’s Secret Nuclear Surveillance System (London: Praeger, 1995), p. 194. 51. ‘Discussions Held on September 2nd and 3rd 1948.’ PRO: AB 16/2676. 52. Ziegler and Jacobson, Spying Without Spies, p. 194. 53. This and the preceding quotation are from ‘Discussions Held on September 2nd and 3rd 1948.’ PRO: AB 16/2676. 54. Cockcroft to Makins, 22 October 1948. PRO: AB 16/2676. 55. ‘Note by Cockcroft,’ 2 November 1948. PRO: AB 16/2676. 56. W.G. Penney, ‘An Interim Report of British Work on Joe,’ 22 September 1949. HST: PSF: Subject File, 1945–53, Box 173. See also J.D. Cockcroft, ‘Notes on Discussions with Mr Webster, at the AEC Building, June 2 1949,’ 10 June 1949. PRO: AB 6/641. 57. ‘Notes of Discussion Between Dean Mackenzie, Sir John Cockcroft and Dr W.A. MacFarlane, held at Ottawa on Thursday, May 26, 1949.’ PRO: AB 6/641. 58. Ziegler, ‘Waiting for Joe-1,’ pp. 197–229. For Strauss’ own history of events, see ‘History of the Long-Range Detection Program,’ 21 July 1948. Strauss Papers: AEC, Tests/Testing 1947–1954, Box 113. 59. See ‘Long Range Detection of Atomic Explosions,’ 20 February 1948. NAII: RG 330, Entry 199 Secretary of Defense, Box 77. 60. For further information, see H. Friedman et al., ‘Detecting the Soviet Bomb: Joe-1 in a Rain Barrel,’ Physics Today (November 1996), pp. 38–41. 61. D.L. Northrup and D.H. Rock, ‘The Detection of Joe 1,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence (Fall 1996), p. 27. 62. Wilfred Mann, interview with C. Ziegler, 1990. I am grateful to Professor Ziegler for providing some details of the interview. 63. See the 9 September 1949 memo by DCI Hillenkoetter in HST: PSF: Intelligence File, Box 250. 64. Northrup and Rock, ‘Detection of Joe 1,’ p. 30. 65. D.L. Northrup, ‘Detection of the First Soviet Nuclear Test on August 29, 1949,’ February 1962. Niels Bohr Library, American Institute of Physics: R.C. Williams Papers (hereafter Williams Papers): Letters/Interviews, Box 3. 66. ‘Letter from Perrin to R.C. Williams,’ n.d. but ca. 1984. Williams Papers, Box 2, Binder 1. 67. ‘Letter from Perrin to R.C. Williams,’ 14 August 1984. Williams Papers, Box 2, Binder 1. 68. Penney, ‘An Interim Report.’ HST: PSF: Subject File, 1945–53, Box 173. 69. W.B. Mann, ‘Sixty Years in and out of Physics.’ I am grateful to Professor Kris Mann for a copy of her father’s 1990 lecture. 70. A. Cave Brown, Treason in the Blood: H. St. John Philby, Kim Philby, and the Spy Case of the Century (London: Robert Hale, 1994), p. 400. 71. Mann, ‘Sixty Years.’

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72. Perrin to Williams, 14 August 1984. Williams Papers. See also H. Montgomery Hyde, The Atom Bomb Spies (London: Sphere, 1982), pp. 143–44. 73. W.B. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? Quintessential Recollections (Oxford: Pergamon, 1982), p. 68. Mann had helped draft Penney’s report. 74. BJSM to P.M., 19 September 1949. PRO: FO 115/4477. Emphasis added. 75. GAT 211, BJSM to Cabinet Office, 27 October 1949. PRO: CAB 126/248. 76. GAT 234, Cockcroft to Welsh, 29 November 1949. PRO: CAB 126/248. 77. G.N. Walton (AERE Harwell), ‘Chemical Analysis of Air Samples,’ 19 January 1950. PRO: AB 15/1268. 78. M.W. Perrin, ‘Record of Interview with Dr K. Fuchs on 30th January 1950.’ PRO: AB 1/695. 79. L. Machta, ‘Finding the Site of the First Soviet Nuclear Test in 1949,’ Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society 73:11 (November 1992), p. 1801. 80. Ziegler and Jacobson, Spying Without Spies, pp. 207–8. 81. Ibid., p. 210. 82. ‘Notes on Interviews with the President.’ HST: Papers of George Elsey, Box 88. 83. ‘Russian Atomic Bomb,’ notes by G.M. Elsey. HST: Eben A. Ayers Papers, Box 6. 84. See various correspondence in PRO: FO 115/4477. 85. For the text of the announcement, see PRO: DO 35/2524. It is for this reason that Olav Riste is incorrect in his assertion that Western knowledge of Joe-1 remained patchy. O. Riste, The Norwegian Intelligence Service, 1945–1970 (London: Frank Cass, 1999), p. 192. 86. P. Kelly, ‘How the USSR Broke into the Nuclear Club,’ New Scientist 110 (8 May 1986), p. 33. Kelly in fact did not join Welsh’s unit until 1952. 87. ‘JS/JTIC (49) 32nd Meeting,’ 28 September 1949. PRO: DEFE 41/73. It was therefore considered necessary to reevaluate Soviet progress in other fields of defence research and development. 88. 29 September 1949. PRO: DO 35/2524. 89. ‘Implications of Soviet Atomic Development,’ JIC/2124/49, JIC (49) 123rd Meeting. PRO: CAB 176/24. 90. Cited in G. Borovik, The Philby Files: The Secret Life of the Master Spy—KGB Archives Revealed (London: Warner, 1994), p. 268. 91. G. Hartcup and T.E. Allibone, Cockcroft and the Atom (Bristol: Hilger, 1984), p. 157. 92. Tizard to PM, 26 September 1949. PRO: PREM 8/1101. 93. Stated in Gowing, Independence and Deterrence: Britain and Atomic Energy, 1945–1952, vol. 1, Policy Making (London: Macmillan, 1974), p. 150. 94. Welsh to Mann, 30 December 1949. Emphasis in original. I am indebted to Professor Kris Mann for allowing me access to her father’s private papers, which include considerable correspondence between Mann and Welsh. Fuchs had confessed to Perrin. 95. ‘Report of Central Intelligence Agency, Monday October 17 1949: United States Senate, Joint Committee on Atomic Energy.’ I am extremely grateful to Dr Bill Burr of the National Security Archive, Washington, DC, for provision of this extensive document. 96. ‘Estimate of the Effects of the Soviet Possession of the Atomic Bomb upon the Security of the United States and upon the Probabilities of Direct Soviet Military Action,’ CIA, 6 April 1950. HST: PSF: Intelligence File, Box 257. 97. DCI Hillenkoetter to Executive Secretary, National Security Council, 12 June 1950. Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library (hereafter DDE): White House Office, NSC Staff: Papers, 1948–1961, Executive Secretary’s File Series, Box 3. 98. ‘Report of the Ad Hoc Committee on Atomic Energy Intelligence to the Director

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of Central Intelligence,’ 9 June 1950. DDE: White House Office, NSC Staff: Papers, 1948–1961, Executive Secretary’s File Series, Box 3. 99. W.B. Smith (DCI), ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence Requirements,’ 5 December 1950. HST: SMOF Naval Aide to the President Files, 1945–1953, Box 10. 100. ‘Scientific and Technical Intelligence in the United States and Canada,’ DSI/JTIC (50) 31, 30 December 1950. PRO: DEFE 10/498. 101. P. Knightley, Philby: KGB Masterspy (London: Pan Books, 1988), p. 156. 102. D. Holloway, ‘How the Bomb Saved Soviet Physics,’ Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (November–December 1994). 103. Captain W.G. Lalor (JCS), ‘Atomic Energy Long-Range Detection Program,’ 25 January 1950. NAII: RG 341, Entry 241, Box 35. See also M. Welch, ‘AFTAC Celebrates 50 Years of Long Range Detection,’ AFTAC Monitor (October 1997), p. 11. 104. ‘US/Canadian/UK Intelligence Appreciation of Soviet Intentions and Capabilities,’ JIC/1764/49, September 1949. PRO: DEFE 10/495. 105. ‘Implications of Soviet Atomic Development,’ JIC/2124/49, JIC (49) 123rd Meeting. PRO: CAB 176/24. 106. Mann, Was there a Fifth Man? p. 70. 107. Welsh to C. Hinton (MoS), 3 January 1950. PRO: AB 8/27. 108. ‘Draft CPC Document,’ 26 September 1949. PRO: FO 115/4472. 109. ‘Anglo-Canadian-United States Tripartite Talks on Atomic Energy,’ December 1949. PRO: FO 115/4476. 110. Eric Welsh, ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence.’ PRO: DEFE 41/126. Emphasis in original. 111. M. Herman, Intelligence Power in Peace and War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 85. 112. R.V. Jones, Reflections on Intelligence (London: Mandarin, 1989), p. 17. 113. F. Seitz and H. Bethe, ‘How Close Is the Danger?’ In One World or None, ed. D. Masters and K. Way (London: Latimer House, 1947), p. 95. Emphasis in original. 114. S. Twigge and L. Scott, Planning Armageddon: Britain, the United States and the Command of Western Nuclear Forces, 1945–1964 (Amsterdam: Harwood, 2000), p. 258. 115. B. Balmer, Britain and Biological Warfare (Hampshire: Palgrave, 2001), pp. 70–72. 116. P. Hennessy, The Secret State: Whitehall and the Cold War (London: Penguin, 2002), pp. 32–34. 117. Herman, Intelligence Power, p. 110. 118. W. Laqueur, A World of Secrets: The Uses and Limits of Intelligence (New York: Basic Books, 1985), p. 268. The phrase is stated as being R.V. Jones’. 119. M.I. Handel, ‘Strategic Surprise,’ in Intelligence: Policy and Process, ed. A.C. Maurer, M.D. Tunstall, and J.M. Keagle (London: Westview Press, 1985), p. 257. 120. R.K. Betts, Surprise Attack (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 1982), p. 18. 121. Herman, Intelligence Power, p. 109. 122. See Holloway, Stalin and the Bomb, pp. 1–223; R. Rhodes, Dark Sun: The Making of the Hydrogen Bomb (London: Simon and Schuster, 1995), pp. 27–198, 244–301, 331–40, 364–81. 123. I.N. Golovin, ‘The First Steps in the Atomic Problem in the USSR,’ in 50 Years with Nuclear Fission, ed. J.W. Behrens and A.D. Carlson (La Grange Park, IL: American Nuclear Society, 1989), p. 202. 124. Holloway, Stalin and the Bomb, pp. 222–23, 366. It is interesting to consider, therefore, as Holloway does, the difference in time scales between the British and Russian projects, both of which were based, to a large extent, on information from Los Alamos.

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1. Cited in P. Knightley, Philby: KGB Masterspy (London: Pan Books, 1988), p. 156. 2. See M.S. Goodman, ‘British Intelligence and the Soviet Atomic Bomb, 1945–1950,’ Journal of Strategic Studies 26:2 (June 2003), p. 126. 3. ‘Russian Knowledge of the Atomic Bomb,’ JIC (47) 87th Meeting (0), 10 December 1947. National Archives: Public Record Office (hereafter PRO): CAB 159/2. 4. Cited in T. Bower, The Perfect English Spy: Sir Dick White and the Secret War, 1935–90 (London: Heinemann, 1995), p. 78. 5. For more, see C. Andrew, ‘The Venona Secret,’ in War, Resistance and Intelligence: Essays in Honour of M.R.D. Foot, ed. K.G. Robertson (Barnsley: Leo Cooper, 1999), pp. 203–25; N. West, VENONA: The Greatest Secret of the Cold War (London: HarperCollins, 1999); J.E. Haynes and H. Klehr, VENONA: Decoding Soviet Espionage in America (London: Yale University Press, 1999); R.L. Benson and M. Warner, VENONA: Soviet Espionage and the American Response, 1939–1957 (Laguna Hills, CA: Aegean Press, 1996). 6. M.S. Goodman, ‘Who Is Trying to Keep What Secret from Whom and Why? MI5FBI Relations and the Klaus Fuchs Case,’ Journal of Cold War Studies 7:3 (Summer 2005), pp. 124–46. 7. J.C. Robertson (MI5), ‘Fuchs Investigation: Collaboration with the Harwell Security Officer,’ 7 September 1949. PRO: KV 2/1246. 8. ‘Note by J.S. McFaden [MoS] to Major R.A.A. Baham [MI5],’ 14 August 1948. PRO: KV 2/1245. 9. For more on this, see Goodman, ‘Who Is Trying to Keep What Secret?’ 10. ‘Meeting to Discuss the Case of Dr Fuchs,’ 16 November 1949. PRO: PREM 8/1279. 11. ‘Note by J.H. Marriott [B2 of MI5],’ 13 January 1950, PRO KV 2/1250. 12. Cited in ‘How MI5 Cracked Nuclear Traitor,’ Guardian, 22 May 2003. 13. ‘Hearing Before the Lord Chief Justice, Lord Goddard, at the Old Bailey on 1st March 1950, of the Case Against Klaus Emil Julius FUCHS, Arraigned on Indictment (four counts) under the Official Secrets Act, 1911, Section 1.’ FBI ‘Foocase’ (hereafter ‘Foocase’), File 65-58805, Serial 899. Ferenc M. Szasz Papers, University of New Mexico. 14. P. Sillitoe, Cloak Without Dagger (London: Cassell, 1955), p. 165. 15. See ‘List of Questions Given to the British for Submission to Dr Klaus Fuchs.’ ‘Foocase,’ File 65-58805, Serial 121. For the answers, see ‘Record of Interview with Dr K. Fuchs on 22 March, 1950 by M.W. Perrin.’ PRO: AB 1/695. 16. J. Edgar Hoover, ‘The Crime of the Century: The Case of the A-Bomb Spies,’ Reader’s Digest (May 1951), pp. 113–48. On the AEC and CIA, see ANCAM 277, BJSM to Cabinet Office, 21 February 1950. PRO: CAB 126/338 17. Arnold Kramish, e-mail message to author, 12 February 2003. 18. For more information, see M.S. Goodman, ‘The Grandfather of the Hydrogen Bomb? Anglo-American Intelligence and Klaus Fuchs,’ Historical Studies in the Physical and Biological Sciences 34:1 (2003), pp. 1–22. 19. ‘Statement of Michael Wilcox Perrin,’ 31 January 1950. PRO: KV 2/1250. 20. G. Hartcup and T. E. Allibone, Cockcroft and the Atom (Bristol: Hilger, 1984), p. 157. 21. ‘Report on Russian Research and Development,’ JIC (52) 16, 27 February 1952. PRO: CAB 158/14. 22. See ‘Soviet Scientific and Technical Intelligence,’ DSI/JTIC (50) 1st Meeting, 19 April 1950. PRO: DEFE 10/496. 23. See Goodman, ‘British Intelligence and the Soviet Bomb.’

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24. ‘Appreciation of Russian Atomic Energy Programme—January 1951,’ JIC/491/51, 3 March 1951. PRO: CAB 176/30. 25. ‘Report on Russian Research and Development,’ JIC (52) 16, 27 February 1952. PRO: CAB 158/14. British intelligence was wrong in this respect because the Soviet tests in 1951 employed U-235; as the report mentions, however, by this time analysis of these tests had still not been completed. 26. ‘Soviet and Satellite War Potential,’ JIC (53) 14 (FINAL), 10 April 1953. PRO: CAB 158/15. 27. ‘Russian Research and Development,’ JIC (54) 36, 6 April 1954. PRO: CAB 158/17. 28. ‘Report of Hugh H. Clegg and Robert J. Lamphere Covering Interviews with Klaus Fuchs in London, England.’ ‘Foocase’ File 65-58805, Serial 1412, p. 29. 29. R.C. Williams, Klaus Fuchs, Atom Spy (London: Harvard University Press, 1987), p. 115. 30. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA/JAEIC Report, 4 July 1950. DDRS: 1979-20A, p. 1. 31. ‘Fuchs’ Participation in the Thermonuclear Weapon Programme at Los Alamos.’ ‘Foocase,’ File 65-58805, Serial 1246. 32. Major General Kenneth Nichols was head of the Armed Forces Special Weapons Project, general manager of the Atomic Energy Commission, and a veteran of Los Alamos. 33. Brigadier General Herbert Loper was head of the Armed Forces Special Weapons Project, and later assistant to the secretary of defence on atomic energy. 34. Interview with General K. Nichols. Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives, King’s College, London. Nuclear Age: 11/83. See also R.G. Hewlett and F. Duncan, Atomic Shield: 1947–1952. Volume II of a History of the United States Atomic Energy Commission (London: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1969), p. 415. 35. Cited in G. Herken, The Brotherhood of the Bomb: The Tangled Lives and Loyalties of Robert Oppenheimer, Ernest Lawrence and Edward Teller (New York: Henry Holt, 2002), p. 259. 36. WEL 201, Cabinet Office to BJSM, 4 November 1949. PRO: CAB 126/140. 37. For details, see ‘Tripartite Talks. BJSM to Cabinet Office,’ 27 September 1949. PRO: CAB 126/140. 38. On Cockcroft’s view, see D. Richards, Portal of Hungerford: The Life of Marshall of the Royal Air Force Viscount Portal of Hungerford (London: Heinemann, 1977), p. 368. 39. N. Moss, Klaus Fuchs: The Man Who Stole the Atom Bomb (London: Grafton Books, 1987), p. 169. 40. ‘Interview with Arneson by Niel M. Johnson, June 21, 1989 (Washington, DC).’ Harry S. Truman Presidential Library: Papers of R. Gordon Arneson, Box 1. 41. ‘Interview with Sir Roger Makins by Alfred Goldberg,’ 8 August 1963. PRO: AB 48/252. British diplomat Frederick Hoyer Miller commented that Acheson had confided this view to him. BJSM to Cabinet Office, 8 February 1950. PRO: FO 371/82902. 42. J. Cockcroft, Atomic Energy History—A Typescript. Unpublished autobiography in manuscript form. Professor Sir John Cockcroft Papers. Churchill College Archives, Cambridge University, Box CKFT 25/8, p. 70. 43. G. Goncharov, ‘American and Soviet H-Bomb Development Programmes: Historical Background,’ Physics-Uspekhi 39:10 (October 1996), pp. 1033–44. 44. ‘Memorandum of Conversation by L.D. Battle, Special Assistant to the Secretary of State,’ 13 February 1950. In Foreign Relations of the United States, 1950, vol. 1, National Security (Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office, 1977), pp. 527–28.

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45. P. Hennessy and G. Brownfeld, ‘Britain’s Cold War Security Purge: The Origins of Positive Vetting,’ Historical Journal 25:4 (1982), p. 968; P. Hennessy, The Secret State: Whitehall and the Cold War (London: Penguin, 2002), p. 90. 46. C. Pincher, Too Secret Too Long (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1984), p. 200. 47. Hennessy and Brownfeld, ‘Britain’s Cold War Security Purge,’ p. 969. 48. ‘Extract from Security Conference Notes Prepared by UK Representatives Concerning Tripartite Talks on Security Standards at Washington,’ 19–21 June 1950. I am grateful to Chapman Pincher for a copy of this document. See also ANCAM 328, BJSM to Cabinet Office, 21 June 1950. PRO: CAB 126/338. 49. ‘Security Talks. A.E. (0) (50) 8th Meeting,’ 5 July 1950. PRO: CAB 134/31. According to one article, MI5 papers reveal that ‘the only real issue tackled was whether he [Fuchs] was politically active in Britain.’ P. Reynolds, ‘How Atom Spy Slipped Security Net,’ BBC News, 21 May 2003, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/3046255.stm. 50. R.J. Aldrich, The Hidden Hand: Britain, America and Cold War Secret Intelligence (London: John Murray, 2001), p. 426. 51. For more information, see Hennessy, The Secret State, pp. 90–98. 52. Foreign Secretary to Hoyer Miller, 9 February 1950. PRO: FO 371/82902; Moss, Klaus Fuchs, p. 167. 53. L. Groves, Now It Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project (New York: Harper’s, 1962), p. 144. 54. Joint Committee on Atomic Energy, Soviet Atomic Espionage (Washington, DC: US GPO, 1951). Perrin’s views are cited in H.W.B. Skinner to Cherwell, 13 June 1951. Lord Cherwell Papers. Nuffield College Archives, Oxford University, Box J117. 55. CANAM 123, Foreign Office to Washington, 2 February 1950. PRO: CAB 134/31. 56. E. Rabinowitch, ‘Atomic Spy Trials: Heretical Afterthoughts,’ Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 7:5 (May 1951), p. 141. The only exception is in a letter from Eric Welsh to Sam Goudsmit: ‘If only I could find all the others of the same ilk—I feel sure that some of them are hiding about the 48 stars and 13 stripes.’ Welsh to Goudsmit, 20 March 1950. Samuel Goudsmit Papers, Niels Bohr Library, American Institute of Physics, Box 23, Folder 254. Of course we now know that US scientist Ted Hall was a hugely important asset for Soviet intelligence, but this was not known at the time. See J. Albright and M. Kunstel, Bombshell: The Secret History of America’s Unknown Atomic Spy Conspiracy (New York: Random House, 1997). 57. Perrin to B.A. Hill, 12 March 1951. PRO: KV 2/1257. 58. Alan Moorehead, The Traitors (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1952). For details, see N. West, ‘Fiction, Faction and Intelligence,’ in Understanding Intelligence in the Twenty-first Century: Journeys in Shadows, ed. L.V. Scott and P. Jackson (London: Routledge, 2004). I am also grateful to Chapman Pincher for further elucidation. See PRO: KV 2/1257 for correspondence and details about MI5’s enthusiasm for Moorehead to write such an account. Also see PRO: KV 2/1259. 59. S. Turchetti, ‘Atomic Secrets and Governmental Lies: Nuclear Science, Politics and Security in the Pontecorvo Case,’ British Journal of the History of Science 36 (December 2003), pp. 389–415. All future references are to an earlier version of this paper—I am grateful to Dr Turchetti for allowing me to see a prepublication copy. 60. ANCAM 371, BJSM to Cabinet Office, 24 October 1950. PRO: CAB 126/338. 61. Turchetti, ‘Atomic Secrets,’ p. 9. 62. This was the view of the secretary of the DSIR, then responsible for atomic energy. M. Gowing, Britain and Atomic Energy, 1939–1945 (London: Macmillan, 1964), p. 191. 63. ‘Note by Cockcroft,’ 8 May 1950. PRO: AB 6/798.

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64. Lord Brian Flowers and Lady Mary Flowers, interview with the author, 23 September 2002. 65. Moorehead, The Traitors, p. 170. 66. J. Costello, Mask of Treachery: The First Documented Dossier on Blunt, MI5 and Soviet Subversion (London: Collins, 1988), p. 528. According to the footnote, this information was originally provided by Peter Wright. 67. H. Montgomery Hyde, The Atom Bomb Spies (London: Sphere, 1982), pp. 184–85. 68. Hyde, Atom Bomb Spies, p. 191. 69. ‘Note by Cockcroft,’ 8 May 1950. PRO: AB 6/798. 70. Bower, Perfect English Spy, p. 101. 71. CANAM 235, Cabinet Office to BJSM, 20 October 1950. PRO: PREM 8/1273. 72. Bower, Perfect English Spy, p. 101. 73. R.W. Reid, Tongues of Conscience: War and the Scientists’ Dilemma (London: Reader’s Union, 1970), p. 249. 74. C. Andrew and O. Gordievsky, KGB: The Inside Story of Its Foreign Operations from Lenin to Gorbachev (London: Sceptre, 1991), p. 327. 75. Turchetti, ‘Atomic Secrets’; Arnold Kramish, e-mail message to author, 21 April 2004. 76. Andrew and Gordievsky, KGB, p. 386; Costello, Mask of Treachery, p. 528. 77. ‘Note on Captain Liddell’s Interview with the Prime Minister on 23 October 1950 Regarding the Case of Pontecorvo.’ PRO: PREM 8/1273. 78. For more on Fuchs, see M.S. Goodman and Chapman Pincher, ‘Research Note: Clement Attlee, Percy Sillitoe, and the Security Aspects of the Fuchs Case,’ Contemporary British History 19:1 (Spring 2005), pp. 67–78. 79. Turchetti, ‘Atomic Secrets,’ p. 10. 80. M.W. Perrin to R. Makins, 9 November 1950. PRO: FO 371/84837. 81. ANCAM 369, BJSM to Cabinet Office, 21 October 1950. PRO: PREM 8/1273. 82. ‘Action Taken by the Security Service in Connection with the Pontecorvo Case,’ 25 October 1950. PRO: PREM 8/1273. 83. Cited in M. Carter, Anthony Blunt: His Lives (London: Macmillan, 2001), p. 336. 84. Cited in Bower, Perfect English Spy, p. 135. 85. Verne Newton makes this interesting dichotomy between the two types of atomic secret. The Cambridge Spies: The Untold Story of Maclean, Philby, and Burgess in America (New York: Madison Books, 1991), pp. 156–57. 86. A. Glees, The Secrets of the Service: British Intelligence and Communist Subversion, 1939–51 (London: Jonathan Cape, 1987), p. 354; S. Kerr, ‘An Assessment of a Soviet Agent: Donald Maclean, 1940–1951’ (PhD diss., London School of Economics, 1996), p. 199. 87. J. Costello and O. Tsarev, Deadly Illusions (London: Century, 1993), p. 218. 88. D. Greenhill, More by Accident (York: Wilton, 1992), p. 67. 89. Knightley, Philby, p. 151. 90. Y. Modin, My Five Cambridge Friends (London: Headline Books, 1994), p. 117. 91. Kerr, ‘An Assessment of a Soviet Agent,’ p. 106. 92. Ibid., p. 107. 93. P. Hennessy and K. Townsend, ‘The Documentary Spoor of Burgess and Maclean,’ Intelligence and National Security 2:2 (April 1987), p. 293. 94. A. Boyle, The Climate of Treason (London: Coronet, 1980), pp. 318–19; R. Cecil, A Divided Life: A Biography of Donald Maclean (London: Coronet, 1988), p. 113. 95. For more information, see M. Gowing, Independence and Deterrence: Britain and Atomic Energy, 1945–1952, vol. 1, Policy Making (London: Macmillan, 1974), chap. 7. 96. Kerr, ‘An Assessment of a Soviet Agent,’ pp. 214, 251.

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97. Cecil, A Divided Life, p. 127. 98. Ibid., p. 128. In fact, Maclean was one of three people who drew up the agreement. Newton, Cambridge Spies, p. 184. 99. Hyde, Atom Bomb Spies, p. 138. 100. Newton, Cambridge Spies, pp. 146, 149. 101. Kerr, ‘An Assessment of a Soviet Agent,’ p. 111. 102. M. Smith, The Spying Game: The Secret History of British Espionage (London: Politico’s, 2003), p. 214. 103. A. Weinstein and A. Vassiliev, The Haunted Wood: Soviet Espionage in America— The Stalin Era (New York: Modern Library, 1999), p. 290. 104. Cecil, A Divided Life, p. 132. 105. Hennessy and Townsend, ‘Documentary Spoor,’ p. 296. 106. Bower, Perfect English Spy, pp. 104–11. 107. Cited in Kerr, ‘An Assessment of a Soviet Agent,’ p. 399. 108. Ibid., p. 379. 109. Cited in Glees, Secrets of the Service, p. 355. 110. ‘Appreciation of Soviet Capabilities and Intentions 1951 to 1954 for NATO Standing Group,’ JIC (51) 79 (FINAL), 28 September 1951. PRO: CAB 158/13. 111. Greenhill, More by Accident, p. 75. 112. See White House Office, Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Affairs, Records 1952–61: FBI Series. Dwight D Eisenhower Library, Box 10. Details of the FBI’s voluminous investigations can be found at http://foia.fbi.gov/foiaindex/philby.htm. 113. Cited in Hyde, Atom Bomb Spies, p. 137. 114. Newton, Cambridge Spies, p. 150. 115. Cited in Costello, Mask of Treachery, p. 567. 116. Cecil, Divided Life, p. 136. 117. Kerr, ‘An Assessment of a Soviet Agent,’ p. 15. 118. G. Dean (chairman, AEC) to Senator B. McMahon (chairman, Joint Committee on Atomic Energy), 22 June 1951. US National Archives II (hereafter NAII): RG 326, Records of the AEC, General Correspondence, 1951–58, Box 157. 119. S. Pike (chairman, AEC) to B. McMahon, 8 June 1951. Niels Bohr Library, American Institute of Physics: R.C. Williams Papers, Box 2, Binder 2B. 120. Dean to McMahon, 22 June 1951. NAII: RG 326, Records of the AEC, General Correspondence, 1951–8, Box 157 121. Smith, Spying Game, p. 215. 122. Aldrich, Hidden Hand, p. 422. 123. L. Smith, ‘Covert British Propaganda: The Information Research Department, 1947–77,’ Millennium: Journal of International Studies 9:1 (1980), pp. 67–83; W. Scott Lucas and C.J. Morris, ‘A Very British Crusade: The IRD and the Beginning of the Cold War,’ in British Intelligence, Strategy and the Cold War, 1945–51, ed. R.J. Aldrich (London: Routledge, 1992), pp. 85–111. 124. For some examples, see Aldrich, Hidden Hand, p. 132. 125. Smith, Spying Game, p. 218; C.M. Andrew and V. Mitrokhin, The Mitrokhin Archive: The KGB in Europe and the West (London: Penguin, 1999), p. 186. 126. H.A.R. Philby, My Silent War: The Autobiography of Kim Philby (London: Grafton, 1989), p. 234. Information on trains is in Knightley, Philby, p. 167. Philby seemingly also kept his espionage tools in the cellar. 127. W.B. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? Quintessential Recollections (Oxford: Pergamon, 1982), p. 78.

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128. Costello, Mask of Treachery, p. 538. 129. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? p. 79. 130. Kramish, e-mail message to author, 30 April 2004. 131. Aldrich, Hidden Hand, p. 424. 132. Bower, Perfect English Spy, p. 154. 133. For example, G. Hoare, The Missing Macleans (London: Cassell, 1955); A. Purdy and D. Sutherland, Burgess and Maclean (London: Secker and Warburg, 1963). 134. Bower, Perfect English Spy, p. 155. 135. S. Rimington, Open Secret: The Autobiography of the Former Director-General of MI5 (London: Arrow, 2002), pp. 125–26; T. Mangold, Cold Warrior James Jesus Angleton: The CIA’s Master Spy Hunter (London: Simon and Schuster, 1991), pp. 42–49. Some of this governmental attention must have been a result of the ‘Fluency Committee’—Peter Wright’s efforts to identify further Soviet moles. See Wright, Spycatcher. 136. Philby, My Silent War, p. 107. 137. The MI5 investigation, including correspondence between Philby and Hollis, was declassified only in November 2003. See PRO: KV 2/1419-2/1425. For more details, see http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/releases/2003/november14/sovietofficers.htm. 138. A. Cave Brown, Treason in the Blood: H. St. John Philby, Kim Philby, and the Spy Case of the Century (London: Robert Hale, 1995), p. 366. 139. Weinstein and Vasiliev, The Haunted Wood, pp. 104–5. 140. Cave Brown, Treason in the Blood, pp. 398–99. 141. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? p. 81. 142. Cave Brown, Treason in the Blood, pp. 400, 422. 143. G. Borovik, The Philby Files: The Secret Life of the Master Spy—KGB Archives Revealed (London: Warner, 1995), pp. 268–69. 144. P. Seale and M. McConville, Philby: The Long Road to Moscow (Middlesex: Penguin, 1978), p. 248. 145. A. Cave Brown, The Secret Servant: The Life of Sir Stewart Menzies, Churchill’s Spymaster (London: Sphere, 1989), p. 697. 146. Philby, My Silent War, pp. 230–32. 147. West, VENONA, p. 46; R. Rhodes, Dark Sun: The Making of the Hydrogen Bomb (London: Simon and Schuster, 1995), p. 377. 148. Andrew and Mitrokhin, The Mitrokhin Archive, p. 204. 149. M. Wolf, Memoirs of a Spymaster (London: Pimlico, 1998), p. 231. 150. N. West and O. Tsarev, The Crown Jewels: The British Secrets Exposed by the KGB Archives (London: HarperCollins, 1999), pp. 180–81. 151. Ibid., p. 235. 152. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? p. 70. 153. Ibid., p. 84. 154. Cave Brown, Treason in the Blood, pp. 427–28. Cave Brown erroneously cites Welsh as Walsh. Also see Costello, Mask of Treachery, p. 540. 155. Cave Brown, Treason in the Blood, p. 423; Seale and McConville, Philby, pp. 249–50. 156. Knightley, Philby, p. 157. 157. Cave Brown, The Secret Servant, p. 703. 158. Philby, My Silent War, pp. 252–61. 159. Cited in Seale and McConville, Philby, p. 261. 160. See, for example, Bower, Perfect English Spy, p. 152. 161. Ibid., p. 314.

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162. Modin, My Five Cambridge Friends, p. 109. 163. J. Cairncross, The Enigma Spy: An Autobiography (London: Century, 1997). 164. Ibid., pp. 85–88. 165. Modin, My Five Cambridge Friends, p. 110. 166. Andrew and Mitrokhin, The Mitrokhin Archive, p. 150. 167. Smith, Spying Game, p. 210. 168. Modin, My Five Cambridge Friends, pp. 148–49. 169. Andrew and Gordievsky, KGB, p. 406. 170. Bower, Perfect English Spy, p. 135; Andrew and Gordievsky, KGB, p. 406. 171. See Albright and Kunstel, Bombshell. 172. J.C. Robertson (MI5), ‘Indications of a Russian Espionage Source, Other Than Fuchs, at Harwell,’ 1 February 1950. PRO: KV 2/1250. I am grateful to Arnold Kramish for further elucidation. 173. See V. Lota, GRU i Atomnaya Bomba (Moscow: Olma Press, 2002). This book is an ‘official’ account of the GRU and the atomic bomb. Despite this, very little is known about the GRU’s activities, especially as the majority of its assets were subsumed into KGB atomic operations in the early 1940s. 174. Within Aldermaston and the British nuclear weapons programme, different levels of information were given different security classifications, all of which were above the normal top secret level. For more, see the material in PRO: CAB 21/6028. 175. Borovik, The Philby Files, pp. 212–14. 176. B. Page, D. Leitch, and P. Knightley, Philby: The Spy Who Betrayed a Generation (London: Sphere, 1979), p. 227. 177. Andrew and Mitrokhin, Mitrokhin Archive, p. 519. Chapter 4

1. H. Scoville, ‘Verification of Soviet Strategic Missile Tests,’ in Verification and SALT: The Challenge of Strategic Deception, ed. W.C. Potter (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1981), p. 163. 2. A. Dulles, The Craft of Intelligence (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1963), p. 66. 3. ‘The Report to the President by the Technological Capabilities Panel of the Science Advisory Committee,’ vol. 2, 14 February 1955, p. 25. Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Archive (hereafter DDE). White House Office; Office of the Staff Secretary, Box 16. 4. ‘Paper on Scientific Intelligence,’ 17 November 1952. Churchill College Archives, University of Cambridge. R.V. Jones’ Papers, RVJO B.115. 5. G.H. Dhenin and W.L. Aikman (RAF), ‘Radioactive Cloud Sampling,’ n.d. National Archives: Public Record Office (hereafter PRO): AIR 20/10955. 6. F.S. Feer, The Intelligence Process and the Verification Problem, RAND Report P-7112, July 1985, p. 4. 7. B.G. Blair, J.E. Pike, and S.I. Schwartz, ‘Targeting and Controlling the Bomb,’ in Atomic Audit: The Costs and Consequences of US Nuclear Weapons Since 1940, ed. S.I. Schwartz (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 1998), p. 226. 8. I refer to the nuclear component of a weapons test as a ‘device’ rather than a ‘bomb’ or ‘weapon’ because in many tests they were just that. For example, the first testing of an American hydrogen bomb was of a device the size of a two-storey house. 9. P. Podvig, ‘Nuclear Tests,’ in Russian Strategic Nuclear Forces, ed. P. Podvig (London: MIT Press, 2001), pp. 485–91.

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10. Described as ‘explosions carried out for the purpose of creating or improving a nuclear weapon.’ Podvig, ‘Nuclear Tests,’ p. 483. Subsequent descriptions are from the same page. 11. ‘Explosions carried out for the purpose of studying the destructive effects of nuclear explosions on military and civilian objects.’ 12. ‘Fundamental research and technological experiments.’ 13. ‘Studies of the behaviour of nuclear weapons during accidents and studies of emergency procedure.’ 14. These classifications are from I.A. Andryushin et al., Ispytania yadernogo oruzhiya I yadernye vzryvy v mirnikh tselyakh SSR, 1949–1990 (Sarov: Arsamas-16, 1996). Podvig, ‘Nuclear Tests,’ lists an additional two tests. 15. A.M. Matushenko et al., ‘Chronological List of Nuclear Tests at the Semipalatinsk Test Site and Their Radiation Effects,’ in Nuclear Tests: Long-Term Consequences in the Semipalatinsk/Altai Region, ed. C.S. Shapiro, V.I. Kiselev, and E.V. Zaitsev (London: Springer-Verlag, 1998), p. 93. 16. For an interesting study, see A. Kramish, ‘Why Nations Built Bombs,’ Woodrow Wilson International Centre for Scholars. Core seminar paper, December 1982. HST: Gordon Arneson Papers, Box 1. 17. H.C. Rodean, Nuclear Explosion Seismology (Springfield, VA: Lawrence Livermore Laboratory, 1971), pp. 4–5. 18. Podvig, ‘Nuclear Tests,’ pp. 458–91. 19. H.W. Wilson, letter to the author, 21 December 2002. 20. J.L. Symonds, A History of British Atomic Tests in Australia (Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service, 1985), pp. 39–40. 21. Lewis to Hothersall, 24 November 1950. PRO: ES 1/130. In the original, this phrase is also underlined to emphasise its importance. 22. ‘Trial EPICURE Survey Trial and Staff Require: Radiochemical Fission Products,’ note by F. Morgan, 22 November 1950. PRO: ES 1/131. 23. W. Penney to J. Cockcroft, 24 May 1951. PRO: ES 1/131. 24. Cockcroft to F. Morgan (Controller, Atomic Energy, MoS), 17 March 1952. PRO: AB 6/1106. 25. Penney to Morgan, 14 November 1951. PRO: ES 1/131. 26. L.C. Tyte (Armaments Research Establishment) to Penney, 6 June 1952. PRO: ES 1/132. 27. Symonds, History of British Atomic Tests, pp. 41–42. For the rainwater collection, see Tyte to Penney, 6 June 1952. ES 1/132. 28. JIC/1174/48, ‘Photographic Reconnaissance of Soviet and Soviet Controlled Territories,’ 22 June 1948. PRO: CAB 176/18. 29. Symonds, History of British Atomic Tests, p. 98. 30. Ibid., p. 105. 31. G.B. Cook et al., ‘Radiochemical Analysis of Debris from Distant Nuclear Explosions: Debris from the “Hurricane” Operation,’ 12 November 1954. PRO: AB 15/3866. The principal reason it was detonated slightly below the level of the water was that Churchill and the Chiefs of Staff were fearful of an atomic device being smuggled into and exploded in one of Britain’s ports. 32. GAT 263, BJSM Washington to Cabinet Office, 26 May 1950. PRO: CAB 126/248. 33. Vandenburg to R. LeBaron, 12 March 1951. US National Archives (hereafter NAII): RG 341, Entry 214, Box 36. 34. Twining to Secretary Marshall, 24 January 1951. NAII: RG 341, Entry 214, Box 36.

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35. J.L. Bunce et al. (Harwell), ‘Chemical Analysis of Air Samples, February 1951,’ November 1951. PRO: AB 15/2005. 36. Vandenburg to Secretary of Defense, 20 November 1951. NAII: RG 330, Entry 199, Box 287. 37. See G.D. Udell, Atomic Energy Act of 1946 and Amendments (Washington, DC: US GPO, 1966), pp. 26–27. 38. ‘Extract from Minutes of Truman-Churchill Talks Pertaining to Agenda Item “Technical Cooperation in Atomic Energy,” ’ 7 January 1952. NAII: RG 59, Entry 5181, Box 3. 39. Podvig, ‘Nuclear Tests,’ p. 485; T.B. Cochran et al., Nuclear Weapons Databook, vol. 4, Soviet Nuclear Weapons (London: Harper and Row, 1989), p. 349. 40. H. Marshall Chadwell (Assistant Director, Scientific Intelligence, CIA) to Rear Admiral S.W. Souers (director, CIA), 1 October 1951. HST: President’s Secretary Files (hereafter PSF): Subject File 1945–53, Box 175. 41. R.E. France (Assistant Secretary, Atomic Energy, MoS) to the Permanent Secretary MoS, 4 October 1951. PRO: AB 16/1092. In fact, details of these highly secret flights appeared soon after in the Daily Express: ‘RAF Spotted Atom Explosion,’ 10 October 1951. I am very grateful to Chapman Pincher for a copy of his scoop. 42. Morgan (Controller, Atomic Energy, MoS) to Slessor (chief, Air Staff), 9 October 1951. PRO: AIR 75/92. 43. F. Morgan, ‘Radiochemical Analysis of Distant Nuclear Explosions: Analysis of Prayer 2013.’ PRO: AB 15/1688. The filter number analysed was 2013. 44. E.A.C. Crouch (Harwell), ‘Radiochemical Analysis of Airborne Debris from Distant Nuclear Explosions,’ 18 February 1952. PRO: AB 15/2224. 45. ‘Report on Russian Research and Development,’ JIC (52) 16, 27 February 1952. PRO: CAB 158/14. 46. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA Scientific Intelligence Report CIA/SI118-51, 6 March 1952. HST: PSF: Intelligence File, Box 251. 47. See, for example, ‘Soviet and Satellite War Potential,’ JIC (53) 14 (FINAL), 10 April 1953. PRO: CAB 158/15. 48. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ National Scientific Intelligence Estimate NSIE-1, 8 January 1953. DDE: White House Office, NSC Staff: Papers, 1948–1961. Executive Secretary’s Files: Subject File Series, Box 1. 49. In fact, this calculation was done by scientists in Freiburg, Germany. K. Lauder (UK Scientific Research Organisation, Rhineland) to C.H. Johnston (Office of UK High Commissioner, Bonn), 4 March 1954. PRO: DEFE 21/62. 50. E.A.C. Crouch, ‘Radiochemical Analysis of Airborne Debris from Distant Nuclear Explosions,’ AERE C/M.130/5, 10 May 1952. PRO: AB 15/2226; Crouch, ‘Radiochemical Analysis of Airborne Debris from Distant Nuclear Explosions,’ AERE C/M.130/6, 19 May 1952. PRO: AB 15/2227. 51. F. Morgan, ‘Radiochemical Analysis of Distant Nuclear Explosions: Analysis of Pearl X-9,’ AERE C/M.130/8, 11 November 1952. PRO: AB 15/2229. X-9 refers to the filter number. 52. F. Morgan, ‘Radiochemical Analysis of Distant Nuclear Explosions: Analysis of Pressure Six,’ AERE C/M.130/9, 11 November 1952. PRO: AB 15/2230. 53. ‘Estimation of the Possible Fission Product Content of Rainwater in the Cairns Area [of Queensland],’ AERE, 10 April 1952. PRO: DEFE 16/194. 54. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ National Scientific Intelligence Estimate NSIE-1, 8 January 1953. DDE: White House Office, NSC Staff: Papers, 1948–1961. Executive Secretary’s Files: Subject File Series, Box 1. Also see ‘Status of the Soviet

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Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA Scientific Intelligence Report CIA/SI118-51, 6 March 1952. HST: PSF: Intelligence File, Box 251. 55. Commander Welsh, ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence.’ PRO: DEFE 41/126. 56. See, for example, ‘Soviet and Satellite War Potential,’ JIC (53) 14 (FINAL), 10 April 1953. PRO: CAB 158/15. 57. See, for example, ANCAM 535, BJSM to Cabinet Office, 23 June 1952. PRO: CAB 126/213. 58. N.G. Stewart, R.N. Crooks, and E.M.R. Fisher, ‘The Radiological Dose to Persons in the UK Due to Debris from Nuclear Test Explosions Prior to January 1956.’ AERE Harwell Report: HP/R2017, 1956, p. 4. 59. W.G. Marley (AERE Harwell) to E. Welsh, 31 July 1952. PRO: ES 1/846. 60. ‘Letter from J.H. Awbery (for Eric Welsh) to Penney,’ 15 May 1953. PRO: ES 1/846. This included the article ‘Increase of Tritium in the Air Hints at H-Bomb Explosion,’ Washington Star, 3 May 1953. 61. L.L. Strauss to D.D. Eisenhower, 8 July 1953. Herbert Hoover Presidential Library: Lewis S. Strauss Papers (hereafter Strauss Papers), AEC Series, Soviet Tests 1952–1961, Box 106. 62. ‘Russian Atomic Explosions in August and September 1953,’ Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit Report, 2 April 1954. PRO: DEFE 19/37. 63. C. Romney, ‘Seismology and Nuclear Test Detection,’ pp. 2–11. I am indebted to Dr Romney, former technical director of AFTAC, for a copy of his unpublished memoir. 64. T. Laird, Into Tibet: The CIA’s First Atomic Spy and His Secret Expedition to Lhasa (New York: Grove Press, 2003). 65. N.G. Stewart, M.J. Heard, and R.N. Crooks (AERE Harwell), ‘Preparation of ELIGIBLE Source E3 for Li6 Analysis,’ 30 December 1953. PRO: AB 15/2914. 66. D.L. Allen and B.A. Loveridge (AERE Harwell), ‘A Measurement of the Li6 Content of ELIGIBLE Source E3,’ 26 November 1953. PRO: AB 15/3596. 67. G.N. Walton (AERE Harwell), ‘Summary of Provisional Results on Filter Analyses on ELIGIBLE—October 1953,’ 28 December 1953. PRO: AB 15/2825. 68. R.C. Hanna (AERE Harwell), ‘The Detection of Weak Activities on Be7 and U237 in Eligible and Racket,’ December 1954. PRO: AB 15/3597. 69. ‘Russian Atomic Explosions in August and September 1953,’ Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit Report, 2 April 1954. PRO: DEFE 19/37. 70. ‘GEN 465, 1st Meeting,’ 12 March 1954. PRO: CAB 130/101. 71. L. Arnold, A Very Special Relationship: British Atomic Weapon Trials in Australia (London: HMSO, 1987), p. 57. 72. J.D. Cockcroft, ‘Note on a Discussion with Dr Miller,’ 21 July 1953. PRO: AB 6/1255. 73. Symonds, History of British Atomic Tests, p. 142. 74. D.T. Lewis, ‘TOTEM Trials 1953—Report of the Activities of the Radiochemical Team,’ PRO: ES 1/840. 75. F. Morgan (Harwell) to C.A. Adams (Totem technical director), 1 July 1953. PRO: ES 1/840. 76. J.D. Cockcroft, ‘Detection of Atomic Bomb Explosions by Electromagnetic Radiation,’ 25 June 1953. PRO: AB 6/1255. 77. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ note by Powell (MoD) to Macmillan (minister of defence), 21 January 1955. PRO: DEFE 13/60. 78. R.C. Hanna (AERE Harwell), ‘The Detection of Weak Activities on Be7 and U237 in Eligible and Racket,’ December 1954. PRO: AB 15/3597.

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79. Untitled memo by J.D. Cockcroft, 21 July 1953. PRO: AB 6/1255. See also the unpublished memoirs of Roger Makins, ‘Mission to Washington,’ p. 50. 80. Cherwell to Churchill, 1 December 1953. Lord Cherwell Papers (hereafter Cherwell Papers): Nuffield College, University of Oxford, Box J138. See the other correspondence in Box J138 for further background to the Bermuda discussions. 81. Cited in H. Macmillan, Riding the Storm (London: Macmillan 1971), p. 324. 82. ‘Minutes of the 173rd Meeting of the National Security Council,’ 3 December 1953. DDE: Papers as President, Ann Whitman File: NSC Series, Box 5. 83. For a copy, see ‘Bermuda Conference 1953.’ Strauss Papers, AEC Series, Box 9. 84. ‘Record of Meeting Between the President, the Prime Minister, Admiral Strauss and Lord Cherwell,’ 5 December 1953. PRO: EG 1/36. 85. ‘Draft Telegram,’ Cherwell to Churchill, 7 December 1953. PRO: EG 1/36. 86. Cherwell to PM, 12 December 1953. Cherwell Papers, Box J138. 87. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ note by Powell (MoD) to Macmillan (Minister of Defence), 21 January 1955. PRO: DEFE 13/60. 88. Cited in a letter from Dulles to Strauss, 12 January 1954. Strauss Papers, Soviet Tests 1952–61, Box 106. 89. ‘Memorandum for the Files,’ L. Strauss, 25 January 1954. Strauss Papers, AEC Tests/Testing 1947–54, Box 113. 90. Morgan to Adams, 30 June 1954. PRO: DEFE 16/298. Although, of course, not all devices were solely fission, every type of detonation included an element of fission. 91. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence Discussions with the US,’ note by F. Brundrett (CSA MoD) to Macmillan, 17 January 1955. PRO: DEFE 13/60. 92. For an overview of the changes wrought by the act, see A. Kuyper, ‘A Look at the New Atomic Energy Law,’ Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 10:10 (December 1954), pp. 389–92. 93. Makins, ‘Mission to Washington,’ p. 84. 94. Udell, Atomic Energy Act, p. 56. 95. ‘Technical Co-operation Programme with the USA,’ note by J.D. Cockcroft, 17 August 1954. PRO: ES 1/655. 96. Podvig, ‘Nuclear Tests,’ pp. 470, 485. 97. ‘JAEIC [Joint Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee] Statement on Recent Nuclear Tests Activities,’ 15 November 1954. NAII: RG59, Entry 5181, Box 16. 98. ‘Scale and Character of the Recent Russian Atomic Weapon Tests,’ 23 November 1954. PRO: DEFE 13/414. 99. Churchill to Macmillan, 31 October 1954. PRO: DEFE 13/60. 100. ‘Conduct of a Soviet Front Operation in an Atomic War,’ 27 July 1955. DDE: Office of the Special Assistance for National Security Affairs—FBI Series, Box 1. 101. ‘History of the Atomic Energy Detection System,’ AFOAT-1, 1955, pp. 56–57. I am grateful to Dr Bill Burr of the National Security Archive, Washington, DC, for provision of this invaluable document. 102. BJSM Washington to Ministry of Defence, 16 May 1955. PRO: AIR 2/13213. 103. ‘History of the Atomic Energy Detection System,’ p. 58. 104. Penney to Welsh, 15 October 1948. PRO: ES 1/966. 105. R. Gordon Arneson, Memories of the State Department’s ‘Mr Atom’ (privately published, 1997), pp. 33–34. I am very grateful to Dr Carl Romney for elucidation on how this may have worked. 106. Michael Perrin (Deputy Controller, Atomic Energy) to Portal of Hungerford (Controller, Atomic Energy), 30 September 1948. PRO: AB 16/2676.

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107. R.V. Jones, ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ 24 November 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. I am also indebted to a former member of both TRU and TAL for further clarification. 108. H.I.S. Thirlaway, letter to author, 18 September 2002. Dr Thirlaway was the British seismologist in charge of the station. For more on Thirlaway and his seismological work for the UN in Pakistan, see Thirlaway, ‘Geophysics in Pakistan,’ Geophysical Journal of the Royal Astronomical Society 2 (1959), pp. 241–47. 109. C. Romney, e-mail message to author, 5 November 2002. 110. ‘History of the Atomic Energy Detection System,’ p. 12. 111. Thirlaway, letter to author, 18 September 2002. 112. ‘The Future of the Atomic Explosion Detection Station in the UK,’ 11 February 1954. PRO: DEFE 19/73. 113. ‘Proposal for the Removal of Quota from Scotland to a Site in Worcestershire or Norfolk,’ AEIU Meeting, 24 February 1954. PRO: DEFE 19/73. 114. R.W. Snelling (AEIU) to Brundrett (CSA MoD), 7 April 1954. PRO: DEFE 19/73. 115. ‘History of the Atomic Energy Detection System,’ p. 59. 116. J.D. Cockcroft, ‘Supply of Filters for Measurement of Atmospheric Radioactivity,’ 3 August 1950. PRO: AB 6/798. 117. N.G. Stewart (Harwell) to Cockcroft, 16 July 1958. PRO: FO 371/135559. 118. Note by E.W. Titterton, 5 December 1957. Australian Academy of Science, Canberra: Titterton Papers, Atomic Weapons Tests Safety Committee—Correspondence, 1957–73, Box 13/3; D.W. Keam et al., ‘Experiments on the “Sticky Paper” Method of Radioactive Fallout Sampling,’ Australian Journal of Science 21 (November 1958), pp. 99–104. 119. J.P.G. Freeman, Britain’s Nuclear Arms Control Policy in the Context of AngloAmerican Relations, 1957–1968 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1986), p. 39. 120. ‘History of the Atomic Energy Detection System,’ p. 60. 121. Ibid., pp. 12–15, 65. 122. M. Welch, ‘AFTAC Celebrates 50 Years of Long Range Detection,’ AFTAC Monitor (October 1997), pp. 12–13. I am grateful to the AFTAC historical staff for provision of this article. 123. ‘History of the Atomic Energy Detection System,’ pp. 16–21. 124. Ibid., p. 23. 125. Ibid., p. 37. 126. Blair, Pike, and Schwartz. ‘Targeting and Controlling the Bomb,’ p. 243; R.S. Norris and W.M. Arkin, ‘Secret Test Monitors,’ Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 43 (July–August 1987), p. 63. 127. ‘Report of NSC Ad Hoc Working Group on the Technical Feasibility of a Cessation of Nuclear Testing: Appendix A, Report on the Detection of Nuclear Tests,’ 18 March 1958. DDRS 1980-356A; ‘JAEIC Effect of a Test Moratorium on the Soviet Nuclear Weapons Development Program,’ 13 November 1956. DDRS 1999-57. 128. Selwyn Lloyd to PM, 4 August 1955. PRO: DEFE 19/37; T.E. Murray (AEC Commissioner) to Eisenhower, 14 March 1955. DDE: White House Office: Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Records, Box 1. 129. Selwyn Lloyd to PM, 4 August 1955. PRO: DEFE 19/37. 130. O. Riste, The Norwegian Intelligence Service, 1945–1970 (London: Frank Cass, 1999), pp. 193–96. 131. Ibid., pp. 196–97. 132. Ibid., pp. 194–95. 133. R. Tamnes, The United States and the Cold War in the High North (Aldershot: Dartmouth, 1991), p. 122. Also, on the use of ships, see R.V. Jones, ‘Atomic Energy Intelli-

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gence,’ 24 November 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. On rainwater, see N.G. Stewart et al., ‘The World-Wide Deposition of Long-Lived Fission Products from Nuclear Test Explosions.’ AERE Harwell Report: HP/R2354, 1957, p. 1. 134. ‘History of the Atomic Energy Detection System,’ pp. 7, 53; Brundrett to PM, 23 September 1955. PRO: DEFE 19/37. 135. For a map of the Novaya Zemlya test site, see Podvig, ‘Nuclear Tests,’ p. 466. 136. D. Holloway, Stalin and the Bomb: The Soviet Union and Atomic Energy, 1939–1956 (London: Yale University Press, 1994), p. 314. 137. Lloyd to PM, 7 November 1955. PRO: DEFE 13/414. 138. ‘History of the Atomic Energy Detection System,’ p. 8. 139. ‘Discussions at the 271st Meeting of the National Security Council,’ 23 December 1955. DDE: Whitman File: NSC Series, Box 7. 140. Podvig, ‘Nuclear Tests,’ p. 487. 141. Brundrett to Minister of Defence, 1 December 1955. PRO: DEFE 13/414; Lloyd to PM, 23 November 1955. PRO: DEFE 19/37. For Britain, see Stewart et al., ‘The WorldWide Deposition,’ p. 5. 142. ‘History of the Atomic Energy Detection System,’ p. 9. 143. ‘Discussions at the 271st Meeting of the National Security Council,’ 23 December 1955. DDE: Whitman File: NSC Series, Box 7. 144. M. Tarasenko, ‘The Strategic Rocket Forces,’ in Russian Strategic Nuclear Forces, ed. P. Podvig (London: MIT Press, 2001), pp. 120–21. 145. ‘Sino-Soviet Bloc War Potential, 1958–1962,’ JIC (58) 3 (FINAL), 19 February 1958. PRO: CAB 158/31. 146. Minister of Defence to the Prime Minister, 31 August 1956. PRO: DEFE 13/414. 147. Podvig, ‘Nuclear Tests,’ p. 488. 148. ‘Joint Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee Statement, 1100 Hours, 20 January 1957.’ NAII: RG 59, Entry 5181, Box 9. 149. General A. Starbird (AEC) to the Chairman, AEC, 26 December 1956. Strauss Papers: AEC: Tests/Testing 1955–1957, Box 113. 150. ‘Sino-Soviet Bloc War Potential, 1958–1962,’ JIC (58) 3 (FINAL), 19 February 1958. PRO: CAB 158/31. 151. For further details on these tests, see NAII: RG 59, Entry 5181, Box 9. 152. L. Arnold, Britain and the H-Bomb (London: Palgrave, 2001), p. 132. 153. Ibid., p. 134. 154. B. Jones, English Electric Canberra and Martin B-57 (Wiltshire: Crowood Press, 1999), p. 148. 155. Arnold, Britain and the H-Bomb, p. 145. 156. D. Sandys to PM, 11 November 1957. Churchill College, University of Cambridge: Duncan Sandys Papers, Box DSND 6/7. 157. Arnold, Britain and the H-Bomb, p. 171. 158. P. Morgan (AWRE), D.A. Wilson (RAF), and A.W. Eyre (RAF, AWRE), ‘High Altitude Cloud Sampling,’ n.d. PRO: AIR 20/10955. 159. P. Morgan (AWRE), D.A. Wilson (RAF), and A.W. Eyre (RAF, AWRE), ‘High Altitude Cloud Sampling,’ January 1958. PRO: ES 1/846. 160. For a requirement of such an aircraft, see Air-Vice Marshal W.E. Outon, ‘Cloud Sampling for Future Nuclear Weapon Trials,’ 16 August 1957. PRO: AIR 2/13377. 161. Major General Eric Younson, interview with the author, 2 October 2003. General Younson was the AWRE representative in Washington, and from 1958 was also the SIS/TAL representative.

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162. E. Welsh, ‘The Organisation of the Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit,’ 17 December 1953. PRO: DEFE 19/38. 163. L. De Geer, ‘The Radioactive Signature of the Hydrogen Bomb,’ Science and Global Security 2 (1991), pp. 351–63. 164. D. Hirsch and W.G. Mathews, ‘The H-Bomb: Who Really Gave Away the Secret?’ Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (January–February 1990), pp. 22–30. Of more interest is the reprint of their article and the rejoinder by Soviet physicists in Physics Uspekhi 34:5 (May 1991), pp. 437–43. 165. Cockcroft to Brundrett, 23 September 1954. PRO: DEFE 7/2208. 166. Remarks made by a former senior AWRE scientist at a session of the British Nuclear Weapons History Study Group, Mountbatten Centre for International Studies, University of Southampton, 16 May 2002. 167. Wilson, letter to the author, 21 December 2002. It is unclear what the ‘I’ stood for. 168. Wilson, letter to the author, 16 October 2002. 169. Arnold, Britain and the H-Bomb, p. 81. 170. Former member of the Atomic Intelligence Unit, interview with the author. 171. Major General Younson, interview with the author. 172. Dr R.F. Coleman (AWRE radiochemist), letter to the author, 7 October 2002. 173. Arnold, Britain and the H-Bomb, p. 85. 174. Ibid., p. 91. For more, see J.J. McCormack and F. Morgan, ‘Determination of Beryllium-7 in the Upper Atmosphere,’ October 1955. Report J 1/55. PRO: ES 8/1. 175. Discussions at a session of the British Nuclear Weapons History Study Group, Mountbatten Centre for International Studies, University of Southampton, 16 May 2002. 176. Arnold, Britain and the H-Bomb, p. 91. 177. Coleman, letter to the author, 7 October 2002. 178. Arnold, Britain and the H-Bomb, p. 94. 179. Gordon Dean (AEC), ‘Memorandum of Conversation with Dr Bradbury,’ 7 October 1958, and ‘Memorandum of Conversation with Dr Teller,’ 9 October 1958. DDE: Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Affairs: Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries: Atomic Energy, Box 11. 180. Y. Shoikhet et al., ‘Fallout from Nuclear Tests: Dosimetry in the Altai Region,’ Radiation and Environmental Biophysics 41 (2002), p. 57. 181. V.I. Kiselev and E.V. Zaitsev, ‘Overview of the NATO/SCOPE-RADTEST Advanced Research Workshop in Barnaul, Siberia,’ in Nuclear Tests: Long-Term Consequences in the Semipalatinsk/Altai Region, ed. C.S. Shapiro, V.I. Kiselev, and E.V. Zaitsev (London: Springer-Verlag, 1998), pp. 22–23. 182. A.P. Vasiliev, ‘The Initiatory Stage of Creation of the Long Range Detection System in the USSR’ (paper presented at HISAP ’99 Conference, Austria). I am grateful to Carl Romney for a copy of this paper. 183. A.P. Vasiliev, ed., Rozhdenaya Atomnim Vekom. Chast 1: Sbornik Istoricheskich Ocherkob, Dokumentov i Voctpominani Veteranov. Glava 1: Istoria Sozdaniya Slozhbi Spetsialnogo Kontrolya Za Yadernimi Vzivami (Moscow, 1998), p. 5. 184. P.G. Richards, W. Kim, and G. Ekstrom, ‘The Borovoye Geophysical Observatory, Kazakhstan.’ I am grateful to Professor Richards for a copy of this document. 185. In fact, this was the name of the unified unit from 1960 onwards; before this time, the various components had their own names. For the sake of simplicity, I shall refer to the programme as SMS before this time as well. 186. Vasiliev, Rozhdenaya Atomhin Vekom, p. 5.

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187. Vasiliev, ‘The Initiatory Stage.’ For more details, see A. Sakharov, Memoirs (London: Hutchinson, 1990), pp. 171–73. 188. Vasiliev, ‘The Initiatory Stage.’ 189. This information is courtesy of a former MoD official attached to the British nuclear weapons programme. For the US side, see Romney, ‘Seismology and Nuclear Test Detection,’ pp. 5–14. 190. A.P. Vasiliev, ‘Sistema Dalnego Obarozhenia Yadernich Vzivov i Sovetski Atomni Proekt,’ in Istoria Sovetskogo Atomnogo Proekta, ed. V.P. Vizgin (St. Petersburg: Russki Khristianski Gumanitarnyi Institut, 2002), p. 242. 191. Vasiliev, ‘The Initiatory Stage.’ 192. I. Trutanow, Die Holle von Semi-Palatinsk (Berlin: Aufbau-Verlag, 1992), pp. 137–40. 193. Phsysics-Uspekhi 34:5 (May 1991), p. 443. 194. Murray to Eisenhower, 14 March 1955. DDE: White House Office: Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Records, Box 1. 195. ‘Impact of a September 1958 Nuclear Test Moratorium on Soviet Nuclear Weapons Capabilities,’ CIA Office of Scientific Intelligence. DDE: Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Affairs, Box 2. 196. Cited in Washington to London, 29 September 1958. PRO: PREM 11/2565. 197. M. Wright, Disarm and Verify: An Explanation of the Central Difficulties and of National Policies (London: Chatto and Windus, 1964), p. 139. 198. R.M. Briber (Assistant to the Special Assistant, Science and Technology), ‘Geneva Technical Discussions on Nuclear Test Detection,’ 20 June 1958. DDE: White House Office: Office of the Special Assistant for Science and Technology, Records 1957–61: Box 17. 199. For the full list, see PRO: FO 371/135556. 200. Brundrett to P.F. de Zulueta, 3 September 1958. PRO: PREM 11/2565. 201. Dr Carl Romney, e-mail message to author, 11 February 2003. 202. For more, see Z. Wang. ‘American Science and the Cold War: The Rise of the US President’s Science Advisory Committee’ (PhD diss., University of California, 1994), pp. 158–63. I am grateful to Dr Wang for a copy of his thesis. Also see K. Barth, ‘Detecting the Cold War: Seismology and Nuclear Weapons Testing, 1945–1970’ (PhD diss., University of Minnesota, 2000), pp. 106–61. I am grateful to Dr Barth for a copy of his thesis. 203. Washington to Foreign Office, 24 May 1958. PRO: 371/135555. 204. ‘Political Brief for United Kingdom Representatives,’ 24 June 1958. PRO: FO 371/135556. 205. ‘Assessment of the Soviet Attitude to Disarmament,’ JIC (57) 108 (FINAL), 3 January 1958. PRO: CAB 158/30. 206. Penney to Brundrett, Dean, and Plowden, 2 July 1958. PRO: FO 371/135557. 207. Penney to Foreign Office, 5 July 1958. PRO: FO 371/135557. 208. Penney to Foreign Office, 9 July 1958. PRO: FO 371/135559. 209. ‘Penney’s Reflections on the Geneva Talks,’ 16 July 1958. PRO: FO 371/135561. 210. Penney to Foreign Office, 7 July 1958. PRO: FO 371/135557. 211. Penney to Foreign Office, 10 July 1958. PRO: FO 371/135559. 212. Penney to Foreign Office, 21 July 1958. PRO: FO 371/135561. 213. Penney to Foreign Office, 25 July 1958. PRO: FO 371/135562. 214. Romney, ‘Seismology and Nuclear Test Detection,’ pp. 5–7. 215. Published as HMSO Command Paper Cmnd 551.

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Notes to Chapters 4 and 5

216. For a good overview of the conference and its aftermath, see H.K. Jacobson and E. Stein, Diplomats, Scientists and Politicians: The United States and the Nuclear Test Ban Negotiations (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1966), pp. 34–84. France had tested an atomic device in 1960, but as France had not been a signatory to the moratorium, technically it could not break it. 217. ‘Intelligence Analysis of the Geneva Conference to Study the Methods of Detecting Violations of a Possible Agreement on the Suspension of Nuclear Tests,’ CIA/SI 205-58, 28 October 1958. I am grateful to Dr Bill Burr of the National Security Archive for provision of this document. 218. B.G. Blair and B.D. Brewer, ‘Verifying SALT Agreements,’ in Verification and SALT: The Challenge of Strategic Deception, ed. W.C. Potter (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1981), p. 8. 219. For information on modern techniques, see W. Sweet, ‘Better Networks for Test Ban Monitoring,’ IEEE Spectrum 33 (February 1996), pp. 24–33; W.B. Scott, ‘USAF Nuclear Detectives Assume New Roles,’ Aviation Week and Space Technology (3 November 1997), pp. 50–59. 220. T.A.B. Milne, ‘Verifying Nuclear Disarmament with Special Reference to the Potential Role for the Atomic Weapons Establishment Aldermaston’ (PhD diss., University of Manchester, 2002), p. 210. Chapter 5

1. COS manuscript, 24 June 1954. PRO: DEFE 32/2. 2. M. Smith, ‘The Oxford Chemist in SOE Plot to Kill Hitler,’ Daily Telegraph, 24 July 1998, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/htmlContent.jhtml?html=/archive/1998/07/24/nhit24.html. 3. D. Panter (Blount’s nephew), interview with the author, 15 September 2003. 4. B.K. Blount, ‘Organisation of Scientific Intelligence—Deficiencies of Present Organisation,’ October 1949. National Archives: Public Record Office (hereafter PRO): DEFE 40/26. 5. ‘Defence Research and Development Policy—Intelligence on Russian Development,’ JS/JTIC (49) 86 (Final), 15 May 1950. PRO: DEFE 41/151. 6. ‘Scientific and Technical Intelligence in the United States and Canada,’ DSI/JTIC (50) 31, 30 December 1950. PRO: DEFE 10/498. 7. Welsh to Mann, 24 January 1951. Wilfrid Mann’s Private Papers. I am indebted to Professor Kris Mann for allowing me to see her father’s personal papers. 8. Welsh to Mann, 24 January 1951. Mann’s Private Papers. 9. ANCAM 391, BJSM to Cabinet Office, 20 November 1950. PRO: CAB 126/338. 10. Kirkman to Blount, 5 March 1951. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 11. Cited in R.V. Jones to Chief Staff Officer, MoD, 12 November 1953. R.V. Jones Papers (hereafter Jones Papers), Churchill College, University of Cambridge: RVJO B.128. 12. R.V. Jones, Reflections on Intelligence (London: Mandarin, 1990), p. 9. 13. See various letters and communications in Jones Papers: RVJO B.127. 14. Jones to Chief of the Air Staff, ‘Letter of Resignation,’ 31 May 1946. Jones Papers: RVJO A.25. 15. R.V. Jones, ‘Scientific Intelligence,’ 17 November 1952. Jones Papers: RVJO B.115. 16. R.V. Jones to Chief Staff Officer, MoD, 12 November 1953. Jones Papers: B.128. 17. R.V. Jones, ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ 24 November 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 18. C. Perrin (Sir Michael Perrin’s son), interview with the author, 17 May 2004.

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19. H. Parker (MoD) to Sir N. Brownjohn, 24 October 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 20. M.W. Perrin, ‘Note of Conversation with General Nicholls on 1st November 1949,’ 2 November 1949. PRO: DEFE 32/1. 21. ‘Amendment to the Atomic Energy Act,’ Memorandum for the Secretary of Defense by H.S. Vandenburg (USAF Chief of Staff), 20 November 1951. National Archives II (hereafter NAII): RG 330, Entry 199, Box 287. 22. ‘Atomic Energy Commission Cooperation with the UK and Canada,’ 18 May 1951. Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library (hereafter DDE): White House Office, NSC Staff: Papers, 1948–1961: Executive Secretary’s Subject File Series, Box 1. 23. W.B. Mann. Was There a Fifth Man? Quintessential Recollections (Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1982), pp. 70–76. 24. Perrin to Mann, 13 February 1951. Mann Papers. 25. This information is based on Press’ Who’s Who entry, his obituary in the Times (3 September 1984, p. 12), and discussions with a former colleague. 26. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence’ (talk by E. Welsh at the MI10 Technical Conference, 1952). PRO: DEFE 41/126. Emphasis in original. 27. I am grateful to former members of TAL and SIS in Germany for this information. 28. M. Beleites, Altlast Wismut: Ausnahmezustand, Umweltkatastrophre im deutschen Uranbergbau (Frankfurt: Brandes and Apsel, 1992), pp. 19–20. 29. Ibid., p. 22. 30. M. Beleites, Pechblende: Der Uranbergbau in der DDR und seine Folgen (Wittenberg: Physicians for Peace, 1988), p. 9. 31. R. Engeln, Uransklaven oder Sonnensucher? Die Sowjetische Aktiengesellschaft Wismut in der SBZ/DDR, 1946–1953 (Essen: Klartext Verlag, 2001), p. 57. 32. Beleites, Altlast Wismut, p. 26. 33. Engeln, Uransklaven, p. 39. 34. Ibid., p. 42. 35. Ibid., p. 44. 36. Ibid., p. 42. 37. JS/JTIC (50) 1st Meeting, 11 January 1950. PRO: DEFE 41/74. 38. ‘Icarus’ is referred to in some publications, and ‘Colonel Salimanov’ in others. That they are one and the same was confirmed by an American intelligence officer. 39. J. Brent and V.P. Naumov, Stalin’s Last Crime: The Plot Against the Jewish Doctors, 1948–1953 (London: HarperCollins, 2003), p. 117. 40. Dr Arnold Kramish, e-mail message to author, 11 August 2003. 41. JS/JTIC Meeting, 1 September 1950. PRO: DEFE 41/10. 42. JS/JTIC Meeting, 25 January 1951. PRO: DEFE 41/10. 43. JS/JTIC Meeting, 8 March 1951. PRO: DEFE 41/10. 44. D.E. Murphy, S.A. Kondrashev, and G. Bailey, Battleground Berlin: CIA vs KGB in the Cold War (London: Yale University Press, 1997), p. 15. 45. Brent and Naumov, Stalin’s Last Crime, pp. 117, 137. 46. Murphy, Kondrashev, and Bailey, Battleground Berlin, p. 15. 47. Kramish, e-mail message to author, 11 August 2003. 48. H.S. Lowenhaupt, ‘On the Soviet Nuclear Scent,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence, www.odci.gov/csi/index.html, p. 20. 49. H.S. Lowenhaupt, ‘Chasing Bitterfeld Calcium,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence (Spring 1973), p. 27. 50. H.S. Lowenhaupt, ‘Mission to Birch Woods, Via Seven Tents and New Siberia,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence (Fall 1968), pp. 6–7.

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51. H. Rositzke, The CIA’s Secret Operations: Espionage, Counterespionage and Covert Action (London: Westview Press, 1977), p. 141. 52. ‘STIB Subject Report: HERTZ, Alfred,’ December 1949. PRO: DEFE 41/132. 53. A. Hilger, ‘Counter-Intelligence Soviet Style: The Activities of Soviet Security Services in East Germany, 1945–1955,’ Journal of Intelligence History 3:1 (Summer 2003), p. 95. Hilger does not provide the full surname of this individual. 54. ‘Analysis of Uranium Ore Sample from Johanngeorgenstadt,’ 6 July 1954. NAII: RG 59, Entry 3008B, Box 49. 55. See numerous reports in PRO: DEFE 41/145; NAII: RG 341, Entry 267, Box 93. 56. ‘Basic Intelligence Brief for UK Delegations to the Brussels Treaty Military Committee and the Western European, Northern European and the Southern European Regional Planning Groups,’ JIC (50) 31 (Final), 28 April 1950. PRO: CAB 158/10. 57. GAT 297, BJSM to Cabinet Office, 3 January 1951. PRO: CAB 126/248. 58. ‘Report on Russian Research and Development,’ DSI/JTIC (51) 14 (Final), 20 December 1951. PRO: DEFE 10/498. 59. CIA, ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ July 1951. NAII: RG 263, Entry A-1, Box 29. 60. ‘Appreciation of Russian Atomic Energy Programme—January 1951,’ JIC/491/51, 3 March 1951. PRO: CAB 176/30. 61. Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit, ‘British and American Estimate of Russian Programme,’ 19 May 1954. PRO: DEFE 19/37. 62. ‘JAEIC Minutes,’ 29 March 1950. NAII: RG 341, Entry 214, Box 35. 63. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence’ (talk by Welsh, 1952). PRO: DEFE 41/126. 64. BJSM Washington (J. Cockcroft) to Roger Makins, 22 October 1948. PRO: AB 16/2676. 65. A.K. Longair (UK Scientific Mission, Washington) to Cockcroft, 8 November 1948. PRO: AB 16/2676. 66. ‘US-UK-Canadian Collaboration in Atomic Energy,’ 23 October 1948. PRO: AB 6/468. 67. W.J. Arrol, K.F. Chacket, S. Epstein, ‘Interim Report on the Krypton and Xenon Arising from Fission,’ Montreal Report No. MC-127, 1 May 1945. PRO: AB 2/252. 68. ‘Security Review of AEC’s Report on “The Handling of Radioactive Waste Materials in the US Atomic Energy Program,” ’ 15 August 1949. NAII: RG 341, Entry 214, Box 35. 69. M. D’Antonio, Atomic Harvest: Hanford and the Lethal Toll of America’s Nuclear Arsenal (New York: Crown, 1993), pp. 116–34, 278–88. 70. Ibid., p. 121. 71. DoD, Report on Search for Human Radiation Experiment Records, 1944–94, www.defenselink.mil/pubs/dodhre/index.html, p. 49. 72. Department of Energy, Human Radiation Experiments: Roadmap to the Project, http://tis.eh.doe.gov/ohre/roadmap/achre/chap11_2.html. 73. Committee on Governmental Affairs, Nuclear Health and Safety: Examples of Post World War II Radiation Releases at US Nuclear Sites (Washington: US GPO, 1993), p. 6. The official history given on the Hanford Web site, http://www.hanford.gov/doe/ history/?history-manhattan, confirms this. 74. W.E. Harlan, D.E. Jenne, and J.W. Healy, ‘Dissolving of Twenty Day Metal at Hanford,’ 1 May 1950, http://www2.hanford.gov/ddrs/search/RecordDetails.cfm?AKey=D197309454. 75. ‘Notes on Technical Cooperation with British and Canadians in the Field of Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ Memorandum for R. LeBaron (Deputy to Secretary of Defense for Atomic Energy), 23 March 1951, www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/NSAEBB/NSAEBB7/ae1-1.htm.

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76. ‘DOE Refuses to Declassify Radiation Release Information,’ Idaho National Engineering and Environmental Laboratory News 8:5 (August 1997). This has also been confirmed by an American intelligence official. 77. ‘Britain, US Share Atom Secrets,’ Daily Express, 29 May 1953. I am indebted to Chapman Pincher for a copy of his article and reminiscences about his sources. 78. Jones, Reflections on Intelligence, p. 18. 79. Chapman Pincher, Inside Story: A Documentary of the Pursuit of Power (London: Book Club Associates, 1978), pp. 148–50. 80. Cited in Pincher, Inside Story, p. 150. 81. G. Turney (JS/JTIC) to Secretary JIC, 23 July 1952. PRO: DEFE 21/62. 82. ANCAM 424, BJSM Washington to Cabinet Office, 22 March 1951. PRO: CAB 126/339. 83. B.M. Coursey and W.L. McLaughlin, ‘Obituary of Wilfrid B. Mann,’ Wilfrid Mann Papers, National Institute of Standards and Technology. 84. G. Dean to Sir O. Franks (British Ambassador to the United States), 23 May 1952. NAII: RG 59, Entry 5181, Box 3. 85. Cherwell to the Prime Minister, 1 May 1952. PRO: PREM 11/267. 86. ‘Memorandum for the Acting Secretary [of State],’ G. Arneson, 14 October 1952. NAII: RG 59, Entry 5181, Box 3. 87. ‘Interchange of Classified Information with the United Kingdom,’ Memorandum by G. Dean, 28 August 1952. Harry S. Truman Presidential Library (hereafter HST): PSF Box 175. 88. ‘List of Policies Approved by the President in the Atomic Energy Field on the Recommendations of the National Security Council or the Special Committee of the National Security Council on Atomic Energy,’ 26 June 1952. DDE: White House Office, NSC Staff: Papers, 1948–1961: Executive Secretary’s Subject File Series, Box 7. 89. Jones, Reflections on Intelligence, p. 18. See also the various documents relating to the 1952 Nomination Conference in PRO: ES 1/854. This file was released under a Freedom of Information Act request in November 2005. 90. Jones, Reflections on Intelligence, p. 18. 91. ‘Implications of Soviet Atomic Development,’ JIC/2124/49, JIC (49) 123rd meeting, 1949. PRO: CAB 176/24. 92. ‘Soviet Intentions and Capabilities—Report by the JIC: Effects of Soviet Occupation on Western Europe,’ JIC (49) 109 (Final), 10 February 1950. PRO: CAB 158/8. 93. ‘British and American Estimate of Russian Programme,’ British Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit, 19 May 1954. PRO: DEFE 19/37. 94. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA, July 1951. NAII: RG 263, Entry A-1, Box 29. 95. Smith to Senator McMahon, 13 March 1952. NAII: RG 263, CIA Reports on the Soviet Union, Box 35. 96. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA, July 1951. NAII: RG 263, Entry A-1, Box 29. 97. R.S. Norris and W.M. Arkin, ‘NRDC Nuclear Notebook: Global Nuclear Stockpiles, 1945–2000,’ Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 56:2 (March–April 2000), p. 79. 98. ‘The Soviet Threat,’ JIC (51) 6 (Final), 19 January 1951. PRO: CAB 158/12. 99. Welsh to Mann, 24 January 1951. Mann’s Private Papers. 100. G. Turney (DSI) to H. Young (deputy director, Scientific Intelligence), 24 September 1952. PRO: DEFE 21/62. 101. D. Evans, ‘Scientific and Technical Intelligence Branch: Review of Future Commitments,’ 1 November 1949. PRO: DEFE 41/83.

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Notes to Chapter 5

102. See, for example, the discussions in ‘Extract from Minutes of a Meeting of the JIC Sub-Committee on Defectors held on 12th June 1951.’ PRO: DEFE 41/70. Also see P. Maddrell, ‘Britain’s Exploitation of Occupied Germany for Scientific and Technical Intelligence on the Soviet Union’ (PhD diss., University of Cambridge, 1998), p. 188. 103. Maddrell, ‘Britain’s Exploitation,’ p. 200. 104. B. Hutchinson to Turney, 3 October 1952. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 105. Welsh to Major General Kirkman (Head of Intelligence Division, Germany), 16 February 1951. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 106. Evans to Hutchinson, 24 September 1952. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 107. Hutchinson to Evans, 3 October 1952. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 108. Evans to Hutchinson, 24 September 1952. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 109. Turney to Hutchinson, 10 November 1952. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 110. Turney to Evans, 1 December 1952. PRO: DEFE 41/16; D. Evans to DSI, ‘Dragon Information on Atomic Energy Subjects,’ 9 January 1953. PRO: DEFE 41/16. 111. H.S. Young (DSI) to Evans, 29 September 1953. PRO: DEFE 41/92. 112. D. Evans, ‘Activities of German Scientists and Technicians in the USSR Since the 39/45 War,’ MI10 Technical Intelligence Conference, 1 May 1953. PRO: DEFE 41/126. 113. Lowenhaupt, ‘Soviet Nuclear Scent,’ pp. 18–19. 114. ‘German Scientists at Sukhumi,’ CIA Report, OSI/SR-2/49, 31 October 1949. HST: PSF: Intelligence File, Box 258. 115. Lowenhaupt, ‘Soviet Nuclear Scent,’ pp. 21–24. 116. For example, ‘A Strategic Vulnerability Study of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ Air Intelligence Division Study, 1 February 1949. NAII: RG 341, Entry 267, Box 97. 117. Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit, ‘Summary of Intelligence on Russian Interest in Heavy Water,’ 12 August 1948. PRO: DEFE 21/48. 118. Secretary JS/JTIC to Director, STIB, ‘Possible Location of Activities in Connection with Production of Heavy Water,’ 7 June 1949. PRO: DEFE 41/24. 119. ‘Proposed Study of a Possible Phase of the USSR Atomic Energy Program,’ D.At.En(In), 30 April 1949. PRO: AB 6/619. Also, Cockcroft to Welsh, 27 April 1949. PRO: AB 6/619. 120. ‘Atomic Research, Development and Warfare—Heavy Water,’ 16 July 1951. PRO: DEFE 21/50. For more on the heavy-water reactors, see T.B. Cochran, R.S. Norris, and O.A. Bukharin, Making the Russian Bomb: From Stalin to Yeltsin (Oxford: Westview Press, 1995), p. 79. 121. ‘Report on Russian Research and Development,’ DSI/JTIC (51) 14 (Final), 20 December 1951. PRO: DEFE 10/498. 122. ‘Short Report of Major Changes in Russian Research and Development,’ DSI/JTIC (52) 28, 12 December 1952. PRO: DEFE 10/499. 123. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ E. Welsh, MI10 Technical Intelligence Conference, 1952. PRO: DEFE 41/126. 124. Maddrell, ‘Britain’s Exploitation,’ p. 175. 125. See the numerous CIA ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Program’ reports for the early 1950s. Declassified Document Reference System (hereafter DDRS). 126. Director of Intelligence, USAF, ‘Requirement for a Reconnaissance Capability by Recoverable Free Balloons,’ 9 October 1950. NAII: RG 341, Entry 214, Box 52. See also C. Peebles, The Moby Dick Project: Reconnaissance Balloons over Russia (London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1991). 127. Rositzke, CIA’s Secret Operations, p. 28, 128. Maddrell, ‘Britain’s Exploitation,’ p. 178.

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129. M.W. Perrin, ‘Record of Interview with Dr K. Fuchs on 30th January 1950,’ PRO: AB 1/695. 130. ‘Soviet Progress in the Development of New Methods of Warfare,’ JIC (50) 4/1 (Final), 26 January 1950. PRO: CAB 158/9. Although this quote is from a January JIC report, the view was repeated in April 1950. 131. ‘Soviet and Satellite War Potential,’ JIC (51) 117 (Final), 22 April 1951. PRO: CAB 158/13. 132. ‘Report on Russian Research and Development,’ JIC (52) 16, 27 February 1952. PRO: CAB 158/14. 133. ‘Soviet Atomic Capabilities: Appreciation for SACEUR,’ 14 November 1952. PRO: DEFE 21/62. 134. ‘Soviet and Satellite War Potential,’ JIC (53) 14 (FINAL), 10 April 1953. PRO: CAB 158/15; ‘Russian Research and Development—Report by the JIC,’ JIC (53) 34, 20 March 1953. PRO: DEFE 10/499. 135. ‘Russian Research and Development,’ JIC (54) 36, 6 April 1954. PRO: CAB 158/17. 136. See, for example, ‘Future Programme—Memorandum by Chairman,’ OAW (Working Party on the Operational Use of Atomic Weapons)/P (54) 9, September 1954. The situation was even worse at ministerial level; see Memorandum, August 1954. PRO: AVIA 65/876. The author appears to be Duncan Sandys. 137. J. Cockcroft and W. Penney, ‘The Potential Production of High Power Atomic Bombs by the USSR,’ 22 April 1954. PRO: DEFE 19/37. 138. Ibid. 139. For more information on this, see M.S. Goodman, ‘The Grandfather of the Hydrogen Bomb? Anglo-American Intelligence and Klaus Fuchs,’ Historical Studies in the Physical and Biological Sciences 34:1 (2003), pp. 1–22. 140. J. Carson Mark, Thermonuclear Weapons: Period 1946 to January 1950 (US Department of Energy Reading Room, University of New Mexico), p. 4. See also H. York, The Advisors: Oppenheimer, Teller and the Superbomb (San Francisco: W.H. Freeman, 1976), p. 25. 141. R. Rhodes, Dark Sun: The Making of the Hydrogen Bomb (London: Simon and Schuster, 1995), pp. 462–69. 142. See, for instance, the work of Arzamas-16 physicist German Goncharov, in particular his ‘American and Soviet H-Bomb Development Programmes: Historical Background,’ Physics-Uspekhi 39:10 (October 1996), pp. 1033–44. 143. L. Arnold, Britain and the H-Bomb (London: Palgrave, 2001), p. 7. 144. A. Fitzpatrick, ‘Igniting the Light Elements: The Los Alamos Thermonuclear Weapon Project, 1942–1952’ (PhD diss., Virginia Polytechnic Institute, 1999), p. 157. ‘Would work’ implies the science was possible, as opposed to indicating that the Classical Super would work as a deliverable thermonuclear weapon. 145. Fitzpatrick, ‘Igniting the Light Elements,’ pp. 160–61. 146. Cited in Rhodes, Dark Sun, p. 456. 147. Dr M. Rosenbluth, e-mail message to author, 22 October 2002. 148. Memorandum by the Acting Secretary of the Army, the Acting Secretary of the Navy, and the Secretary of the Air Force to the Secretary of Defense, 27 March 1952. Foreign Relations of the United States, 1952–1954, vol. 2, Atomic Energy; Arms Control (Washington, DC: US GPO, 1984), p. 880. 149. W.G. Jackson, Allen Welsh Dulles as Director of Central Intelligence: 26 February 1953—29 November 1961, vol. 2, Coordination of Intelligence (Langley, VA: CIA Historical Staff). DDE Library.

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150. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA, 4 July 1950. DDRS 1979–20A. 151. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA, 27 December 1950. DDRS 1983–89. 152. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA, January 1951. NAII: RG 263, Entry A-1, Box 29. 153. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA, 6 March 1952. HST: PSF: Intelligence File, Box 251. 154. ‘Status of the Soviet Atomic Energy Program,’ CIA, 8 January 1953. DDRS 1987–1. 155. ‘NIE-65: Soviet Bloc Capabilities Through 1957,’ CIA, June 1953. PRO: DEFE 41/155. 156. ‘Implications of Soviet Nuclear Weapons Tests During 1953,’ Report by C.H. Reichardt (AEC Representative to the Intelligence Advisory Committee), 19 October 1953. DDE: NSC Staff: Papers, 1948–61, OCB Central File Series, Box 8. 157. ‘The Likelihood of War with the Soviet Union and the Date by which the Soviet Leaders Might Be Prepared to Risk It,’ JIC (50) 77 (Revise), 18 August 1950. PRO: CAB 158/11. 158. J. Prados, The Soviet Estimate: US Intelligence Analysis and Soviet Strategic Forces (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), pp. 39–40. 159. ‘Soviet Capabilities and Intentions 1951 and 1954—Brief for Western European Regional Planning Group,’ JIC (50) 98 (Final), 27 November 1950. PRO: CAB 158/11. 160. ‘Soviet Long Term Preparations for War—Review of Major Development During the Year Ending 31st December 1950,’ JIC (51) 4/1 (Final), 4 April 1951. PRO: CAB 158/12. 161. ‘The Soviet Threat,’ JIC (51) 6 (Final), 19 January 1951. PRO: CAB 158/12. 162. ‘Memorandum on the Photographic Reconnaissance Effort Required to Support a Bomber Offensive Against Soviet Airfields,’ n.d. but c.1951. PRO: AIR 40/2547. 163. ‘Strategic Air Photographic Intelligence,’ JIC (52) 72, 21 November 1952. PRO: CAB 158/14. 164. Personal communication from Air Vice-Marshal Charles S. Moore (director of intelligence in the Air Ministry, 1955–58) to the author, 20 September 2002. 165. ‘Soviet Capabilities for a Military Attack on the United States Before July 1952,’ CIA SE-14, 23 October 1952. HST: PSF: Intelligence File, Box 258. 166. T. Kadyshev, ‘Strategic Aviation,’ in Russian Strategic Nuclear Forces, ed. P. Podvig (London: MIT Press, 2001), pp. 340–41. 167. ‘United States Strategic Policy,’ COS 221/25/2/52, 25 February 1954. PRO: DEFE 32/4. 168. ‘Soviet and Satellite War Potential, 1954–1958—Report by the JIC,’ JIC (54) 3 (Final), 15 February 1954. PRO: CAB 158/17. 169. ‘United States Strategic Policy,’ COS 221/25/2/52, 25 February 1954. PRO: DEFE 32/4. 170. ‘The Effect of Atomic Weapon Development on Future Defence Policy,’ DRPS [Staff]/P (54) 11, 11 May 1954. PRO: DEFE 7/2208. 171. ‘GEN 465 1st Meeting,’ 12 March 1954. PRO: CAB 130/101. 172. Prados, The Soviet Estimate, pp. 41–42. 173. ‘Likelihood of War,’ JIC/2150/52, 22 September 1952. PRO: CAB 176/38. 174. ‘Basic Intelligence Brief for UK Delegations to the Brussels Treaty Military Committee and the Western European, Northern European and the Southern European Regional Planning Groups,’ JIC (50) 31 (Final), 28 April 1950. PRO: CAB 158/10.

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175. ‘Scale and Nature of Air Attack on the United Kingdom—1951/1957,’ JIC (51) 18, 1 January 1951. PRO: CAB 158/12. 176. ‘Strategic Air Plan,’ COS/112/16/1/52, 16 January 1952. PRO: DEFE 32/2. 177. ‘Operational Use of Atomic Weapons,’ COS (53) 511, 12 October 1953. PRO: DEFE 32/3. 178. ‘Likelihood of War,’ JIC/2065/52, 11 September 1952. PRO: CAB 176/38. 179. ‘Discussion at the 163rd Meeting of the National Security Council, Thursday September 24, 1953.’ DDE: DDE Papers as President (Ann Whitman Files), NSC Series, Box 4. 180. ‘Likelihood of General War with the Soviet Union up to the End of 1955,’ JIC (53) 79 (Final), 10 September 1953. PRO: CAB 158/16. 181. ‘Likely Form of War,’ JIC (64) 47 (revise), 17 May 1954. PRO: CAB 158/17. 182. N.C.D. Brownjohn to Minister of Defence, ‘Soviet Strength in Western Europe,’ 10 February 1954. PRO: DEFE 13/352. 183. Welsh, ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ 1952. PRO: DEFE 41/126. Chapter 6

1. AVM W.M.L. McDonald (Air Ministry) to F. Brundrett (Chief Scientific Adviser, MoD), 5 December 1955. National Archives: Public Record Office (hereafter PRO): DEFE 7/2105. 2. Lieutenant General Sir F. Morgan (MoS) to Lieutenant General Sir N. Brownjohn (MoD), 21 September 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 3. Morgan to H. Parker (MoD), 7 August 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 4. Morgan to Brownjohn, 21 September 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 5. Parker to Heads of the Armed Services, 21 October 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 6. P. Cradock, Know Your Enemy: How the Joint Intelligence Committee Saw the World (London: John Murray, 2002). 7. C.W. Wright (MoD) to C. Daniel, 5 December 1953. PRO: DEFE 19/38. This document includes the full details of Daniel’s terms of reference. 8. R.J. Aldrich, Espionage, Security and Intelligence in Britain, 1945–1970 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998), p. 80. 9. E. Welsh, ‘The Organisation of the Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit,’ 17 December 1953. PRO: DEFE 19/38. 10. Former member of AEIU, interview with the author, 21 February 2003. 11. Jones to Daniel, 13 January 1954. PRO: DEFE 19/38. 12. Welsh had been particularly close to Sinclair’s predecessor, Major General Sir Stewart Menzies. 13. Morgan to Brownjohn, 21 September 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 14. Ibid. 15. ‘Note by W.G. Penney for Adm Daniel,’ 20 December 1953. PRO: DEFE 19/38. 16. Wright to Daniel, 5 December 1953. PRO: DEFE 19/38. 17. Morgan to Brownjohn, 21 September 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. Former member of AEIU, interview with the author, 21 February 2003. 18. ‘Notes by W.G. Penney for Adm Daniel,’ 20 December 1953. PRO: DEFE 19/38. 19. Wright to Daniel, 5 December 1953. PRO: DEFE 19/38. 20. COS (53) 133rd Meeting, 27 November 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 21. The full report, with redactions, is in PRO: DEFE 19/38. A version with explanatory notes can be found in M.S. Goodman, ‘Research Note: The Daniel Report on UK Atomic Intelligence, 1954,’ Intelligence and National Security 18:3 (Autumn 2003), pp. 154–67.

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22. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ COS (54) 30th Meeting, 17 March 1954. PRO: DEFE 32/4. 23. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence—Report by the Chiefs of Staff to the Minister of Defence,’ COS (54) 101, 31 March 1954. PRO: CAB 21/4058. 24. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ memo by Alexander to Churchill, 30 April 1954. PRO: PREM 11/787. 25. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ 3 June 1954. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee and Scientific Sub-Committee Papers.’ I am indebted to Catherine Haddon for provision of this file, which she received through the Freedom of Information Act. 26. Unfortunately the actual records of this committee remain classified still. See the descriptions for PRO: ES 1/87–1/881; PRO: DEFE 19/35, 19/47, 19/48, and 19/69–19/71. 27. ‘Note of Conversation Between H.S. Young and H. Parker (MoD),’ 13 August 1954. PRO: DEFE 21/3. 28. ‘History of the Joint Intelligence Organisation,’ JIC (57) 123, 29 November 1957. PRO: CAB 158/30. 29. Despite his position, Young was referred to as the Deputy Director of Scientific Intelligence. See his obituary in Gunner Magazine (December 1994). I am grateful to Major General Eric Younson for a copy of this document. 30. ‘Terms of Reference for the Working Party Which Is to Keep Under Review Intelligence on the Application of Atomic Energy to Weapons,’ JIC (54) 81, 30 September 1954. PRO: CAB 158/18. 31. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence Working Party,’ JIC (54) 85th Meeting, 28 September 1954. PRO: CAB 159/17. 32. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence Working Party,’ JIC (54) 86th Meeting, 30 September 1954. PRO: CAB 159/17. 33. ‘History of the Joint Intelligence Organisation,’ JIC (57) 123, 29 November 1957. PRO: CAB 158/30. 34. ‘Statement by the Chairman, Intelligence on Atomic Weapons Working Party,’ JIC (55) 10th Meeting, 27 January 1955. PRO: CAB 159/18. 35. See, for example, ‘Atomic Energy Information,’ DSI/JTIC (54) 8th Meeting, 27 April 1954. PRO: DEFE 10/497. 36. H.S. Young to R. Press, 20 June 1956. PRO: DEFE 21/34. 37. W.B. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? Quintessential Recollections (Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1982), p. 69. 38. Alloway to Goudsmit, 3 October 1949. American Institute of Physics, Centre for the History of Physics, Niels Bohr Library, Sam Goudsmit Papers, Box 23, Folder 254. See also the correspondence at Churchill College Archives, University of Cambridge: Sir James Chadwick Papers, Box CHAD IV 11/54. 39. Cited in Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? p. 69. 40. Welsh to O. Frisch, 18 February 1954. Trinity College Archives, University of Cambridge: Otto Frisch Papers, Box F.138. 41. Alloway to Goudsmit, 23 November 1954. Goudsmit Papers, Box 23, Folder 254. 42. The Times, 23 November 1954. 43. Alloway would become the secretary to Sir Dick White upon his appointment as ‘C.’ 44. W.B. Mann, ‘Sixty Years in and out of Physics.’ I am grateful to Professor Kris Mann for a copy of her father’s 1990 lecture. 45. Goudsmit to Alloway, 4 January 1955. Goudsmit Papers, Box 23, Folder 254. 46. Former deputy-director of TRU, personal communication, 29 May 2002.

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47. There is some debate as to whether TCS stood for ‘Technical Co-ordinating Section’ or ‘Technical Collection Service.’ 48. P. Maddrell, ‘British-American Scientific Collaboration During the Occupation of Germany,’ Intelligence and National Security 15:2 (Summer 2000), p. 86. 49. H. Channing (chief, Estimates Branch, US Army), ‘Letter of Agreement on Joint Exploitation of Postfach 1037 Dragons,’ to D. Evans (director, STIB), 11 February 1955. PRO: DEFE 41/92. 50. H.S. Young (DSI, JIB), ‘Liaison with Gehlen Organisation,’ 18 July 1955. PRO: DEFE 41/142. 51. ‘STIB Overt Interrogation Report (USSR), November 1955—Harry Dittko, German PoW, ex-USSR.’ PRO: DEFE 21/44. 52. N. Riehl and F. Seitz, Stalin’s Captive: Nikolaus Riehl and the Soviet Race for the Bomb (Chicago: American Chemical Society, 1996), p. 150. This book includes Riehl’s memoirs, ‘Ten Years in a Golden Cage,’ from which the quotation is taken. 53. P. Maddrell, ‘Britain’s Exploitation of Occupied Germany for Scientific and Technical Intelligence on the Soviet Union’ (PhD diss., University of Cambridge, 1998), p. 194. 54. ‘STIB Interview Report No. 261—Dr Nikolaus Riehl,’ 12 December 1955. PRO: DEFE 41/106; ‘STIB Interrogation Report No. 234—Dr Nikolaus Riehl,’ 16 August 1955. PRO: DEFE 41/104. 55. See R.H. Mathams, Sub Rosa: Memoirs of an Australian Intelligence Analyst (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1982), p. 27. Mathams was attached to scientific intelligence within the JIB in London at this time. 56. D.E. Murphy, S.A. Kondrashev, and G. Bailey, Battleground Berlin: CIA vs KGB in the Cold War (London: Yale University Press, 1997), p. 425. For more on the tunnel itself, see D. Stafford, Spies Beneath Berlin (London: John Murray, 2002). 57. Report of the Standing Security Commission June 1965, Cmd. 2722 (London: HMSO, 1965). This is the report of the official investigation into Bossard. 58. Chapman Pincher, Too Secret Too Long (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1984), pp. 421–24. This has also been confirmed by a former member of the MoD. 59. This is detailed in various correspondence in PRO: DEFE 41/142, in particular, Bossard to Evans, 18 January 1956. 60. ‘Bossard Spy Case Working Party,’ JIC (B) (WP) 66 1st Meeting, 13 April 1966. PRO: CAB 182/63. 61. H. Scoville, Jr. (assistant director, Scientific Intelligence, CIA), ‘Major Developments in the Atomic Energy Intelligence Field Since the Publications of NIE 11-2-55 in April 1955,’ 15 March 1956. Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library (hereafter DDE): Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Affairs: Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 1. For a British view, see ‘The Importance to the USSR of the East German Uranium Mines,’ JIC (55) 25, 3 March 1955. PRO: CAB 158/20. 62. H.S. Lowenhaupt, ‘Ravelling Russia’s Reactors,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence (Fall 1972), pp. 65–79. See also C. Peebles, Shadow Flights: America’s Secret Air War Against the Soviet Union (Novato, CA: Presidio, 2000). 63. W.J. Boyne, ‘The Early Overflights,’ Air Force Magazine (June 2001), pp. 60–65; R. Cargill Hill, ‘Strategic Reconnaissance in the Cold War,’ Prologue 28:2 (Summer 1996), p. 114. 64. R. Jackson, ‘Strategic Air Intelligence Post-War,’ RAF Historical Society 7 (March 1996), p. 115. 65. P. Rodgers, ‘Photographic Reconnaissance Operations,’ RAF Historical Society 23 (2000), p. 21; ‘Soviet Bloc Logistical Problems in a Nuclear War,’ JIC (55) 15 (Final), 26 January 1955. PRO: CAB 158/20.

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66. R. Cargill Hill, ‘The Truth About Overflights: Military Reconnaissance Missions over Russia Before the U-2,’ Military History Quarterly 9 (Spring 1997), p. 29. 67. For information on GCHQ’s role in these flights, see PRO: DEFE 25/11. 68. See numerous correspondence in PRO: AIR 19/1105. 69. ‘Letter to H. Young (DSI),’ 12 November 1956. PRO: DEFE 21/62. On the American side, see W.G. Jackson, Allen Welsh Dulles as Director of Central Intelligence, 26 February 1953–29 November 1961, vol. 2, Coordination of Intelligence (Langley, VA: CIA Historical Staff, n.d.), p. 72. 70. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence Discussions with the US,’ Brundrett to Minister of Defence, 17 January 1955. PRO: DEFE 13/60. 71. R.J. Aldrich, The Hidden Hand: Britain, America and Cold War Secret Intelligence, 1945–1964 (London: John Murray, 2001), p. 387. 72. See Powell (MoD) to Whiteley (BJSM), 20 May 1955. PRO: AIR 2/13213. 73. ‘History of the Atomic Energy Detection System—1955,’ AFOAT-1. I am indebted to Dr Bill Burr of the National Security Archive for a copy of this document. 74. Press to Brundrett, 24 July 1956. PRO: DEFE 19/37. 75. J.T. Cliffe (Air Ministry) to Chief of the Air Staff, 21 November 1958. PRO: AIR 20/9223. 76. ‘Report on Krypton Activity Data from Stations Operated by the UK,’ AERE HP/R 2663, 1 January 1958–30 June 1958. PRO: AB 15/6040. 77. See Foreign and Commonwealth Office, http://www.fco.gov.uk/servlet/Front?page name=OpenMarket/Xcelerate/ShowPage&c=Page&cid=1007029395231. This theory cannot be proved in the case of New Zealand, as the location of the station could not be found. 78. Confidential information supplied by a former member of TAL. A similar and later operation undertaken by Frank Morgan was to purchase crates of tea leaves from China in order to search for evidence of plutonium development. 79. See Royal Air Force, http://www.raf.mod.uk/history%5Fold/h542.html. 80. Royal Air Force, ‘No. 542 Squadron,’ http://www.raf.mod.uk/history%5Fold/ sqn_hist501-600.html. For further details of the use of Canberra aircraft in sampling missions, see K. Delve, P. Green, and J. Clemons, English Electric Canberra (Leicester: Midlands Counties Publications, 1992), pp. 122–24. 81. I am grateful for this information to David Forster, who is currently writing a history of 542 Squadron. 82. I am extremely grateful to one participant, Tony Regan, Chief Technician, QAVSC RAF, for this information, 6 July 2004. 83. For maps of these operations and their various flight paths, see PRO: AIR 14/4052. 84. D. Boyle (Chief of the Air Staff ) to Brundrett, 23 July 1957. PRO: AIR 20/92. 85. ‘No. 542 Squadron—Policy,’ Air Staff Memorandum No. 31/57, 14 November 1957. PRO: AIR 2/14706. This document also includes a breakdown of the number of sorties flown for various operations. 86. Tuttle (Air Ministry) to Brundrett, 11 November 1957. PRO: AIR 2/14706. 87. S.G. Wise (Air Ministry) to Commander in Chief, Bomber Command, 5 March 1958. PRO: AIR 14/4053. 88. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence Discussions with the US,’ Brundrett to Minister of Defence, 17 January 1955. PRO: DEFE 13/60. 89. Brundrett to Air Marshal Sir G. Tuttle, 29 November 1957. PRO: AIR 20/9223. 90. ‘Nuclear sufficiency’ was defined by the JIC as ‘when the USSR has sufficient nuclear warheads and delivery systems to allocate to the targets which she would wish to

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destroy in nuclear war.’ ‘Nuclear Sufficiency,’ Note by CAS, September 1958. PRO: AIR 8/1942. 91. Brundrett to Tuttle, 29 November 1957. PRO: AIR 20/9223. 92. I am grateful to a former member of British atomic intelligence for this information. D. Lewis of Harwell commented in a letter to Penney that ‘it will be appreciated that it is practically impossible to assess the cost of these operations.’ Lewis to Penney, 9 March 1954. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee and Scientific Sub-Committee Papers.’ I am grateful to Catherine Haddon for provision of this file, which she received through the Freedom of Information Act. 93. Brundrett to Tuttle, 29 November 1957. PRO: AIR 20/12137. 94. Brundrett to Boyle, 13 August 1957. PRO: AIR 20/9223. 95. Brundrett to Boyle, 24 June 1957. PRO: AIR 20/9223. 96. A. Hughers (Air Ministry) to the Director of Operations, 30 December 1957. PRO: AIR 2/14706. 97. ‘Air Sampling,’ note by G. Tuttle (DCAS), 17 November 1958. PRO: AIR 20/9223. 98. Brundrett to Boyle, 20 October 1958. PRO: AIR 20/12137. 99. J. Roberts (Air Ministry) to V.H.B. Macklen (MoD), 27 August 1959. PRO: AIR 20/12137. 100. V.H.B. Macklen (MoD) to J. Roberts (Air Ministry), 22 September 1959. PRO: AIR 2/14706. 101. Royal Air Force, ‘History of No. 21 Squadron,’ http://www.raf.mod.uk/ history%5Fold/h21.html. 102. A. Foord-Kelcey (ACAS [I]) to ACAS (Ops), 16 November 1961. PRO: AIR 20/12137. 103. C. Pocock, The U-2 Spyplane: Toward the Unknown—A New History of the Early Years (Surrey: Schiffer, 2000), pp. 112–123. 104. D.E. Sanger and T. Shanker, ‘North Korea Hides New Nuclear Site, Evidence Suggests,’ New York Times, 20 July 2003; Z. Mian and A.H. Nayyar, ‘An Initial Analysis of 85 Kr Production and Dispersion from Reprocessing in India and Pakistan,’ Science and Global Security 10 (2002), pp. 151–79. 105. J. Risen, ‘Threats and Responses: Weapons Monitoring—Russia Helped US on Nuclear Spying Inside North Korea,’ New York Times, 20 January 2003. 106. J. Baylis, Ambiguity and Deterrence: British Nuclear Strategy, 1945–1964 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), pp. 163–64. 107. Macklen to Roberts, 22 September 1959. PRO: AIR 2/14706. 108. ‘Russian Research and Development,’ JIC (56) 13th Meeting, 2 February 1956. PRO: CAB 159/22. 109. ACAS (I) to DCAS, 14 May 1957. PRO: AIR 2/13213. 110. ‘Organisation of Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ JIC/2970/56, 3 January 1957. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 111. ‘MoD,’August 1958. PRO: DEFE 21/3. This document is a history of the Ministry of Defence and of its organisation. 112. This information is taken from a list of telephone extensions for members of the TRU, 31 December 1957. PRO: AIR 2/14706. I am grateful to Dr Panton for further elucidation: personal communication, 15 July 2002. 113. See Who’s Who entry for Dr Francis Harry Panton, b. 1923. 114. ‘History of the Joint Intelligence Organisation,’ JIC (57) 123, 29 November 1957. PRO: CAB 158/30.

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115. Sir Richard Powell (MoD), ‘Organisation of Intelligence on Atomic Energy,’ 30 May 1957. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 116. ‘History of the Joint Intelligence Organisation,’ JIC (57) 123, 29 November 1957. PRO: CAB 158/30. 117. ‘Sub-Committee on Intelligence on Nuclear Weapons Systems—Terms of Reference,’ JIC (57) 132, 20 December 1957. 118. The minutes of the first four meetings appear to remain classified in the British archives. However, they are available in the American archives; see National Archives II (hereafter NAII): RG 59, Entry 5181, Box 16. Minutes of the fifth meeting are available in the British archives: PRO: DEFE 19/49. 119. Who’s Who entry for Archie Potts (1914–1991). 120. For more, see J. Richelson, Spying on the Bomb: American Nuclear Intelligence from Nazi Germany to Iran and North Korea (London: Norton, 2006), pp. 62–194. 121. ‘Soviet Bloc Strength and Capabilities, 1955–1959. Comments on Standing Group Estimate SG 161/8,’ JIC (55) 30 (Final), 6 April 1955. PRO: CAB 158/20. 122. ‘Military and Economic Strength of the Soviet Union,’ JIC (55) 32 (Final) (Review), 14 June 1955. PRO: CAB 158/20. 123. ‘Sino-Soviet Bloc War Potential, 1956–1960,’ JIC (56) 3 (Final), 14 March 1956. PRO: CAB 158/23. 124. ‘Soviet Bloc Strengths and Capabilities, 1956–1960,’ JIC (56) 53 ( Final), 13 April 1956. PRO: CAB 158/24. 125. ‘Military and Economic Strength of the Soviet Union,’ JIC (56) 113 (Final), 25 January 1957. PRO: CAB 158/26. 126. ‘The Effect of Nuclear Sufficiency,’ annex to JP (57) 151 (Final), ca. 1957. PRO: AIR 8/1942. See note 90 for a definition. 127. ‘Military and Economic Strength of the Soviet Union,’ JIC (56) 113 (Final), 25 January 1957. PRO: CAB 158/26. 128. Chief of the Air Staff to Secretary of State for Air, 18 January 1955. PRO: AIR 8/2460. 129. T. Kadyshev, ‘Strategic Aviation,’ in Russian Strategic Nuclear Forces, ed. P. Podvig (London: MIT Press, 2001), pp. 375–79. 130. ‘Soviet Heavy Bomber Bison,’ DDI (Tech) (Air Ministry), paper 2/57, June 1957. PRO: AIR 40/2724. 131. ‘Air Ministry Secret Intelligence Summary,’ vol. 11, no. 5 (May 1956), p. 15. PRO: AIR 22/94. 132. ‘Soviet Heavy Bomber Bison,’ DDI (Tech) (Air Ministry), paper 2/57, June 1957. PRO: AIR 40/2724. 133. ‘Likely Soviet Courses of Action up to 1st January, 1957,’ JIC (55) 58 (Final) (Revise), 30 September 1955. PRO: CAB 158/21. 134. Kadyshev, ‘Strategic Aviation,’ pp. 379, 384. 135. ‘The Soviet Strategic Air Plan in the Early Stages of a Global War, 1956–1960,’ JIC (56) 7 (Final), 20 February 1956. PRO: CAB 158/23. 136. ‘Russian Air Force,’ Summary of Current Intelligence (Air Ministry), 1 July 1955. PRO: PREM 11/1017. 137. ‘The Soviet Air Force,’ Air Ministry, 27 February 1957. PRO: AIR 19/1110. 138. Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives, King’s College, London: Nuclear Age: 11/31, Interview with Dr R. Cline, 1989. See also J. Prados, The Soviet Estimate: US Intelligence Analysis and Soviet Strategic Forces (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989).

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139. ‘Soviet Strategy in the Event of General War up to the End of 1959—Report by the JIC,’ JIC (54) 4 (Final) (Revise), 16 December 1954. PRO: CAB 158/17. 140. ‘Likely Soviet Courses of Action up to 1st January, 1957,’ JIC (55) 58 (Final) (Revise), 30 September 1955. PRO: CAB 158/21. 141. ‘Soviet Army Atomic Warfare Pamphlets,’ Military Intelligence, 1955. PRO: DEFE 41/155. It is unclear how exactly these were obtained. 142. ‘The Soviet Strategic Air Plan in the Early Stages of a Global War, 1956–1960,’ JIC (56) 7 (Final), 20 February 1956. PRO: CAB 158/23. 143. ‘Likely Scale and Nature of Attack on the United Kingdom in the Early Stages of Global War up to 1961,’ JIC (57) 39 (Final), 19 June 1957. PRO: CAB 158/28. 144. ‘The Likelihood of Attack on the British Isles in Each Year Between Now and 1965,’ 1957. PRO: DEFE 7/970. 145. ‘The Effect of Nuclear Sufficiency,’ Annex to JP (57) 151 (Final), ca. 1957. PRO: AIR 8/1942. 146. D. Sandys, ‘Fighter Defence of Britain,’ 14 November 1957. Churchill College Archives, University of Cambridge: Duncan Sandys Papers, DSND 6/7. 147. Jackson, Allan Welsh Dulles, pp. 65–71. 148. ‘Director of Central Intelligence Directive 3/3.1—Production of Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ 23 July 1958. NAII: RG 59, Entry 5181, Box 1. 149. ‘Impact of a September 1958 Nuclear Test Moratorium on Soviet Nuclear Weapons Capabilities: Appendix E: Current Soviet Nuclear Weapons Capabilities,’ CIA Office of Scientific Intelligence, 18 March 1958. DDE: NSC Series: Briefing Notes Subseries, Box 2. 150. ‘Luncheon Meeting of Psychological Strategy Board, August 21, 1958—Defence.’ Harry S. Truman Presidential Library (hereafter HST): SMOF: PSB Files, Box 28. 151. For the report, see DDE: White House Office: Office of the Staff Secretary, Box 16. 152. ‘Effect of Soviet Weapons Developments on Killian Report Conclusions,’ 9 May 1956. NAII: RG 59, Entry 5181, Box 1. 153. ‘Preparation and Conduct of a Front Offensive Operation in the Initial Stage of a War in Which Atomic Weapons Are Employed,’ 27 July 1955. DDE: NSC Series, Briefing Notes Subseries, Box 18. 154. ‘Joint Anglo-American Conference: A Study of the Soviet Guided Missile Programme,’ March 1949. PRO: DEFE 44/99. 155. J. Stocker, Britain and Ballistic Missile Defence, 1942–2002 (London: Frank Cass, 2004), p. 43. 156. Evans (Director, STIB) to Chief, BAOR, 4 December 1950. PRO: DEFE 41/91. 157. B. Cole, ‘British Technical Intelligence and the Soviet Intermediate Range Ballistic Missile Threat, 1952–1960,’ Intelligence and National Security 14:2 (Summer 1999), p. 72. 158. ‘US/UK Guided Weapons Conference,’ JIC (54) 104th Meeting, 18 November 1954. PRO: CAB 159/17. 159. ‘Russian Research and Development,’ JIC (54) 36, 6 April 1954. PRO: CAB 158/17. 160. Joint Committee on Atomic Energy, ‘Findings and Recommendations Concerning the Intercontinental Ballistic Missile,’ 30 June 1955. DDE: White House Office, Office of the Staff Secretary, Box 4. See also Prados, Soviet Estimate. 161. ‘Notes on Conversation with Mr Donald Quarles (Assistant Secretary of Defence for Research and Development, USA),’ Brundrett to Minister of Defence, 23 April 1955. PRO: DEFE 13/60.

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162. Vice-Chief of the Air Staff to the Secretary of State for Air, 17 August 1955. PRO: AIR 19/1106. See also C. Pocock, ‘Operation “Robin” and the British Overflight of Kapustin Yar: A Historiographical Note,’ Intelligence and National Security 17:4 (Winter 2002), pp. 185–92. 163. D.S. Brandwein, ‘Telemetry Analysis,’ CIA Studies in Intelligence (Fall 1964), p. 21. 164. J.M. Gallimore, Jack’s Journal (2001), www.aipress.com/jackmem/index.html. See also J. Richelson, American Espionage and the Soviet Target (New York: Morrow, 1987). 165. ‘GCHQ—ELINT Operations,’ DSI/JTIC (54) 15th Meeting, 17 August 1954. PRO: DEFE 10/497. Also see ‘GCHQ—Guided Weapons Programme,’ DSI/JTIC (54) 16th Meeting, 7 September 1954. PRO: DEFE 10/497. 166. ‘Russian Capacity to Deliver Thermo-nuclear Weapons,’ JIC (54) 42, 22 April 1954. PRO: CAB 158/17. 167. ‘US/UK Guided Weapons Intelligence Conference,’ JIC (56) 23 (Final), 2 February 1956. PRO: CAB 158/24. 168. ‘Russian Ballistic Rocket Development,’ JIC (56) 34, 6 March 1956. PRO: CAB 158/24. 169. ‘Soviet Bloc Strength and Capabilities, 1956–1960. Comments on Standing Group Estimate SG 161/9,’ JIC (56) 53 (Final), 13 April 1956. PRO: CAB 158/24. 170. ‘Military and Economic Strength of the Soviet Union,’ JIC (57) 53 (Final), 8 July 1957. PRO: CAB 158/29; ‘Significant World Developments Affecting US Security,’ NSC 310th Meeting, 24 January 1957. DDE: DDE Papers as President (Ann Whitman File), NSC Series, Box 8. 171. ‘Soviet Capabilities and Probable Programme in the Field of Guided Weapons,’ JIC (57) 28 (Final), 11 April 1957. PRO: CAB 158/26. 172. ‘Soviet Ground-Ground Guided Missiles Threat to the United Kingdom,’ JIC (57) 41 (Final) (Revise), 10 May 1957. PRO: CAB 158/26. 173. E.C. Williams (scientific intelligence adviser to the MoD) to H.S. Young (deputydirector, Scientific Intelligence, JIB), 12 November 1957. PRO: DEFE 21/62. 174. I.I. Rabi to Killian, 24 December 1957. DDE: White House Office, Office of the Special Assistant for Science and Technology: Records, 1957–1961, Box 1. 175. Cole, ‘British Intelligence,’ p. 81. 176. ‘Comments on Various Military Factors Affecting Soviet Capabilities and Intentions over the Next Five Years,’ CIA memorandum, annex to JIC/2291/57, 22 October 1957. PRO: DEFE 13/342. 177. ‘Replies to Questions Asked by the Prime Minister of the JIC in the Course of His Minute to the Minister of Defence No. 630/57 dated 28 December 1957.’ PRO: DEFE 7/970. 178. ‘Significant World Developments Affecting US Security,’ NSC 378th Meeting, 27 August 1957. DDE: DDE Papers as President (Ann Whitman File), NSC Series, Box 10. 179. Liddell Hart Centre for Military Archives, King’s College, London: Nuclear Age: 11/31, Interview with Dr R. Cline, 1989. 180. ‘Circulation of Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ JIC (INW) (58) 1st Meeting, 25 March 1958. NAII: RG 59, Entry 5181, Box 16. 181. ‘Re-Organisation of Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ note by E.C. Williams, August 1958. PRO: DEFE 19/49. 182. Williams to Brundrett, 28 August 1958. PRO: DEFE 19/49. 183. ‘Intelligence Targets,’ COS (59) 64th Meeting, 15 October 1959. PRO: DEFE 25/11. 184. ‘Charter for JIB,’ 12 October 1961. PRO: DEFE 21/34.

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185. J. Baylis, ‘Exchanging Nuclear Secrets: Laying the Foundations of the AngloAmerican Nuclear Relationship,’ Diplomatic History 25:1 (Winter 2001), p. 42. 186. General Loper in fact had long been supportive of renewing collaboration with Britain. Following the 1958 agreement, releasing information to the United Kingdom required a ‘Presidential Determination.’ If personnel at Aldermaston wanted something urgently, they would contact Major General Younson, their representative in the United States. On Britain’s behalf, General Loper would then contact General Goodpaster, Eisenhower’s Chief of Staff, and ‘the two of them would then lurk behind a tree on the golf course and at an opportune moment would rush out—“sign here please, Mr President.” ’ Major General E. Younson, personal communication, 5 November 2002. 187. See the records of the various Macmillan-Eisenhower meetings at the end of October 1957. NAII: RG 59, Entry 5181, Box 3. 188. For more, see L. Arnold, Britain and the H-Bomb (London: Palgrave, 2001). 189. Baylis, ‘Exchanging Nuclear Secrets,’ pp. 45–48. 190. Ibid., p. 55. 191. Major General E. Younson, personal communication, 5 November 2002. 192. E. Younson, ‘Review of J. Peyton. Solly Zuckerman,’ Journal of the Royal Artillery (2001). I am indebted to Major General Younson for a copy of his review. 193. E. Younson, personal communication, 9 October 2002. 194. Major General E. Younson (presentation, AHRC Nuclear History Project Study Group Meeting, Mountbatten Centre for International Studies, University of Southampton, 15 September 2005). 195. F.H. Panton, personal communication, 15 July 2002. 196. F.H. Panton, personal communication, 13 August 2003. 197. F.H. Panton, personal communication, 18 June 2004. 198. A.W. Dulles to M.H. Stans (director, Bureau of the Budget), 10 December 1959. NAII: RG 59, Entry 5008b, Box 52. 199. G. Gray (White House Staff), ‘Memorandum of Conversation with Dr Bradbury,’ 7 October 1958. DDE: Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Affairs: Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 11. 200. G. Gray (White House Staff), ‘Memorandum of Conversation with Dr Edward Teller,’ 9 October 1958. DDE: Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Affairs: Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 11. Conclusion

1. P. Cradock, Know Your Enemy: How the Joint Intelligence Committee Saw the World (London: John Murray, 2002), p. 290. 2. See R.V. Jones, Most Secret War: British Scientific Intelligence 1939–1945 (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1978); D. Irving, The Virus House: Germany’s Atomic Research and Allied Counter-Measures (London: William Kimber, 1967); A. Kramish, The Griffin: The Greatest Untold Espionage Story of World War II (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1986). 3. See Jones’ resignation letters. For 1946, ‘Letter of Resignation,’ Jones to Chief of the Air Staff, 31 May 1946. Churchill College Cambridge, R.V. Jones Papers: RVJO A.25. For 1953, see R.V. Jones to Chief Staff Officer, MoD, 12 November 1953. Jones Papers: B.128. 4. See Kramish, The Griffin. 5. R.V. Jones, Reflections on Intelligence (London: Mandarin, 1990), p. 17. 6. ‘Draft Report on “Scientific and Technical Intelligence,” ’ April 1947. National Archives: Public Record Office (hereafter PRO): DEFE 9/29.

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Notes to Conclusion

7. See R.S. Norris, Racing for the Bomb: General Leslie R. Groves, the Manhattan Project’s Indispensable Man (South Royalton, VT: Steerforth Press, 2002), pp. 281–312. 8. Research and Development Board, ‘The Critical Situation with Regard to Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ 2 December 1947. HST: HST Papers, SMOF: NSC Files, Box 2. 9. Welsh to W. Mann, 24 January 1951. Wilfrid Mann’s Private Papers. I am indebted to Professor Kris Mann for allowing me to see her father’s personal papers. 10. See M.S. Goodman, ‘Research Note: The Daniel Report on UK Atomic Intelligence, 1954,’ Intelligence and National Security 18:3 (Autumn 2003), pp. 154–67. 11. ‘Atomic Energy Intelligence,’ COS (54) 30th Meeting, 17 March 1954. PRO: DEFE 32/4. 12. Cradock, Know Your Enemy, p. 261. Though this comment was made in relation to the British, it is equally valid for the US system. 13. For elaboration on this point I am grateful to participants in discussions held following a former senior Defence Intelligence Staff officer’s presentation of a paper of at the Mile End Group meeting, London, 7 July 2004. 14. R. Braithwaite, ‘Defending British Spies: The Uses and Abuses of Intelligence’ (speech to the Royal Institute of International Affairs, Chatham House, 5 December 2003), http://www.chathamhouse.org.uk/. 15. M. Herman, Intelligence Power in Peace and War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 241. 16. F.H. Hinsley et al., British Intelligence in the Second World War, vol. 1, part 2 (London: HMSO, 1988), p. 584. 17. W.B. Mann, Was There a Fifth Man? Quintessential Recollections (Oxford: Pergamon, 1982), p. 62. 18. O. Riste, The Norwegian Intelligence Service, 1945–1970 (London: Frank Cass, 1999), pp. 193–97. 19. See P. Maddrell, ‘Britain’s Exploitation of Occupied Germany for Scientific and Technical Intelligence on the Soviet Union’ (PhD diss., University of Cambridge, 1998). 20. S. Twigge and L. Scott, Planning Armageddon: Britain, the United States and the Command of Western Nuclear Forces, 1945–1964 (Amsterdam: Harwood, 2000), p. 258. 21. A. Dulles, The Craft of Intelligence (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1963), p. 202. 22. Lieutenant General Sir F. Morgan (MoS) to Lieutenant General Sir N. Brownjohn (MoD), 21 September 1953. PRO: DEFE 7/2105. 23. See L. Arnold, Britain and the H-Bomb (London: Palgrave, 2001). 24. R.J. Aldrich, The Hidden Hand: Britain, America and Cold War Secret Intelligence, 1945–1964 (London: John Murray, 2001), p. 645. 25. Ibid., p. 644. 26. Cited in ibid. 27. See, for example, G. Murphy Donovan, ‘Evidence, Intelligence and the Soviet Threat,’ International Journal of Intelligence and Counterintelligence 1:2 (1986), pp. 1–28; E. Beukel, ‘The Fundamental Attribution Error in the Cold War: American Perceptions of the Soviet Union as a Nuclear Superpower,’ Arms Control 13:3 (December 1992), pp. 396–420. Other works include G. Kirk and N.H. Wessell, eds., ‘The Soviet Threat: Myths and Realities,’ special whole issue volume, Proceedings of the Academy of Political Science 33:1 (1978); J. Garrison and P. Shivpuri, The Russian Threat: Its Myths and Realities (London: Gateway Books, 1983). 28. See primarily J. Prados, The Soviet Estimate: US Intelligence Analysis and Soviet Strategic Forces (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989); and the recent CIA

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publication G.K. Haines and R.E. Leggett, eds., Watching the Bear: Essays on the CIA’s Analysis of the Soviet Union, https://www.cia.gov/csi/books/watchingthebear/index.html. 29. R. Moore, The Royal Navy and Nuclear Weapons (London: Frank Cass, 2001); H. Wynn, The RAF Strategic Nuclear Deterrent Forces: Their Origins, Roles and Deployment, 1946–1969 (London: HMSO, 1994). 30. V. Zubok and C. Pleshakov, Inside the Kremlin’s Cold War: From Stalin to Khrushchev (Boston: Harvard University Press, 1997). 31. J.W. Young, Britain, France and the Unity of Europe, 1945–1951 (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1984). 32. P. Hennessy, The Secret State: Whitehall and the Cold War (London: Penguin, 2002), p. 12. 33. M. Herman, Intelligence in the Information Age (London: Frank Cass, 2001), p. 162.

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Index

Acheson, Dean, 64 Aconite (US nuclear test), 99, 100, 111 Ad Hoc Committee on Atomic Energy Intelligence, 52 Aerial reconnaissance, 26–27, 53, 90, 154, 160, 179 AFOAT-1, 43–44, 107, 115, 189; highaltitude detection, 107; and Joe-1, 52; and KR-85, 144; monitoring Soviet tests, 102; organisation, 117; origins, 46; relations with UK, 101 AFTAC, 102, 117, 144, 189 Air Ministry, 185 Aldermaston: and atomic intelligence, 176, 206; debris analysis, 110–11, 117, 183; nuclear weapons development, 111; radiochemistry, 89; representative in the US, 200; UK nuclear weapons development, 68, 201 Alexander, Harold (Viscount), 172, 174 Alloway, Julia, 175 Alsos Mission, 5, 16, 175, 209 Anderson, John (Viscount Waverley), 11, 168 Area 5, 43, 45, 71, 91, 137, 142, 144, 212 Arneson, Gordon, 64, 145 Ashby, Eric, 22 Atomic Energy Act (1946). See McMahon Act

Atomic Energy Act (1954), 101, 214 Atomic Energy Authority, 168, 199 Atomic Energy Commission, 15, 41, 46, 54, 63, 71, 199; and atomic intelligence, 15–16, 52, 207; British views of, 133; and the CIA, 41, 207; and debris analysis, 117; and Donald Maclean, 71, 73–74; failure to predict Joe-1, 51; and Fuchs investigation, 60–61, 63–64; and Guy Burgess, 76; and Icarus, 139; and long-range detection, 135, 176; predictions for the first Soviet atomic bomb, 40; relations with the UK, 18, 136, 145, 199, 212; and Sputnik, 197 Atomic Energy Intelligence Committee, 167, 207–8 Atomic Energy Intelligence Unit, 102, 168, 171, 176; and Alan Nunn May, 58; and Daniel Report, 168–69, 172; organisation, 102, 132, 134, 137, 168, 172–73; relations with scientific intelligence, 132, 135; relations with the US, 149, 164–65, 170; views on, 170 Atomic Energy Intelligence Working Party, 173–74, 186 B-29, 32 Benson, Colonel, 17, 149

288

Index

Beria, Lavrenti, 29, 138 Bermuda Conference, 98–99, 214 Bethe, Hans, 99, 110, 115 Bevin, Ernest, 49, 64, 75 Bilateral Agreement (1958), 87, 166–67, 201 Bismuth (debris collection flights), 45, 128 Bitterfeld, 25, 30–31 Bletchley Park, 83 Blount, Bertie, 4, 132–35 Blunt, Anthony, 83 Born, Max, 152 Bossard, Frank, 178–79 Boyle, Dermot, 185, 191 Bradbury, Norris, 111, 201 Bravo (US nuclear test), 107 British Army of the Rhine (BAOR), 134 British Control Commission, 23 British Security Co-ordination, 69 Bullard, Edward, 114 Bush, Vannevar, 44 ‘C,’ 11, 13–14, 26, 44, 47, 82, 102, 134, 170–72, 187 Cairncross, John, 82–83, 210 Canadian Air Force, 45 Canberra aircraft, 108–9, 183 Canterbury, W.M., 43 Castle (US nuclear test series), 99, 107, 111 Cecil, Robert, 74 Central Intelligence Agency. See CIA Central Intelligence Group, 39, 212 Chadwell, Henry M., 133 Chadwick, James, 20 Chalk River, 66 Cheliabinsk, 178 Cherwell, Lord, 98–100, 146, 173 Chiefs of Staff, 10, 19; and atomic intelligence, 13, 168, 172, 174, 206; and atomic intelligence organisation, 13, 168, 172, 174, 176; and civil defence, 161; and Daniel Report, 169, 171–72, 207; instructions to Welsh, 142; and JIC estimates, 37, 162, 164; Jones and Welsh at meetings of, 19, 135; and the Tizard Report, 10; and US strategic plans, 163; views on relations with the US, 146

CIA, 6, 15–16, 40–41, 52, 115, 149, 159, 176, 193, 207; atomic intelligence, 6, 17, 46, 52, 54, 189; atomic intelligence organisation, 15, 193, 207; bomber gap myth, 192; British views of, 133; and Conference of Experts, 116; and Dragon Return, 177; and estimates of Kr-85, 184; and Fuchs investigation, 60–61; and Icarus, 210; infiltrating Soviet plants, 154; intelligence estimates, 40–41, 149, 159, 161, 208; involvement with British atomic intelligence, 188; and long-range detection, 117, 135, 176, 196; and Operation Nomination, 145–46; and Philby, 81; relations with AEC intelligence, 16, 207; relations with the UK, 18; and Soviet nuclear tests, 101; and Sputnik, 198 Classical Super, 157 Cline, Ray, 198 Cockcroft, John, 169; and Daniel Report, 169; and Fuchs, 61; and Hurricane, 89; and the hydrogen bomb, 157; and Joe1, 47; and long-range detection, 44, 97; and Operation Nomination, 146; and Pontecorvo, 66–67; relations with the US, 64 Colby, Walter F., 16–17, 51, 120, 133, 145 Combined Development Trust, 31 Combined Intelligence Unit, 41 Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty, 87 Conference of Experts, 3, 88, 104, 113–16, 119, 167, 200, 203 Cook, William, 110 Cornish uranium, 44 Cradock, Percy, 10, 34, 169, 208 Cripps, Stafford, 49 Daniel Report, 3, 135, 172–74, 176, 187 Dean, Edgar, 16 Dean, Gordon, 145 Dean, Patrick, 172, 198 Defence Research Policy Committee, 206 Department of Defense, 145, 199 Directorate of Atomic Energy, 12, 136; and Alan Nunn May, 21; and atomic intelligence, 12–14, 37, 102, 132–33, 206; and Fuchs, 59; intelligence collection, 20, 27;

Index performance, 34; and Robert Press, 136; and SIS, 150 Directorate of Scientific Intelligence, 132, 175; and atomic intelligence, 12, 132, 135, 170, 172, 174–75, 186, 205; Eric Welsh’s views on, 170; and intelligence analysis, 152; and Jones, 134; William Penney’s views on, 171 Dittko, Harry, 178 Division of Scientific Intelligence, 174, 186, 198 Dwyer, Peter, 79, 80 Eisenhower, Dwight, 1, 86, 98–99, 109, 114, 194 Electromagnetic pulse, 97, 116 Elektrostahl, 25, 30–31, 140, 178 Eligible (Soviet nuclear test), 96 ELINT, 179, 195–96 Eniwetok, 93 Erzgebirge, 137–38, 140 Eskdalemuir, 103 Evans, David, xvii, 21, 150, 179 Evill, Douglas, 14, 206 FBI, 60–61, 63, 72–74, 80, 82 Federal Bureau of Investigation. See FBI Fedorov, 115 Fermi, Enrico, 66 Fisk, James, 114–15 Flowers, Brian, 66 Foreign Office, 69, 72; and aerial reconnaissance, 26; and atomic intelligence, 184; and British Embassy in Washington, 79; and Conference of Experts, 115; and Donald Maclean, 72–73; and Guy Burgess, 75–76; and Sputnik, 199; views on espionage, 69; views of the Soviet Union, 1, 9 Forrestal, James, 40 Fort Halstead, 61, 66, 200 Foster, George Carey, 69 Franks, Oliver, 64, 163 Fuchs, Klaus, 3, 59, 60, 66, 68–69, 76, 79, 83, 85, 158, 210; British informed about, 50; confession, 48; discussions with Perrin, 51, 60–61, 83; and Donald Maclean, 71; espionage, 53, 58; espionage information, 61–63; and

289

the FBI, 60; and the hydrogen bomb, 62–64, 155, 157–59, 164; impact at Harwell, 66; impact on AngloAmerican relations, 63–65, 85, 91, 135, 213; JIC assessment, 73; and Joe-1, 47; and MI5, 77; and Philby, 59, 79, 80; security concerns, 59; and Skardon, 60; and Soviet bomb, 50; trial, 60; and US intelligence, 63; and Venona evidence, 59; and vetting, 65; and weapons development, 61 Gambortsev, G.A., 112 Gattiker, David, 16–17, 44 GCHQ, 13, 19, 105, 176, 184, 187–88, 196 Gehlen, General, 177 German atomic bomb, 1, 11, 29, 132, 209, 212 German scientists and the Soviet programme, 24–25, 131, 150, 152, 177, 179, 194, 210 Gingrich, John E., 16 Gold, Harry, 61 Goudsmit, Samuel, 175 Government Communications Headquarters. See GCHQ Grapple (UK nuclear test series), 108, 111 Grapple X (UK nuclear test), 199 Grapple Y (UK nuclear test), 109 Greenglass, David, 83 Greenhill, Denis, 69, 73 Greenhouse (US nuclear test series), 93, 158 Green Run, 141–44 Groves, Leslie, 15, 28, 30–31, 50, 65, 207 GRU, 21, 84, 113 Hall, Ted, 83 Hanford, 20, 41, 142–43, 153 Hankey, Maurice, 82 Hayter, William, 58 Heavy water, 30, 153, 155 Henderson, Malcolm, 18 Hertz, Alfred, 140 High Altitude Sampling Program, 185 Hillenkoetter, Roscoe, 37, 40, 51–52 Hiroshima, 7, 11, 23, 30, 96 Hollis, Roger, 22, 78 Hoover, J. Edgar, 71, 77 Hurricane (UK nuclear test), 90, 94

290

Index

Icarus, 131, 138–40, 177, 210 I Committee, 110 I.G. Farben, 25, 30 Information Research Department, 75 Intelligence Advisory Committee, 147 Intelligence on Atomic Weapons Working Party, 186 Interim Monitoring System, 46 Jachymov, 31 Joe-1 (Soviet nuclear test), 25, 49, 91, 93, 131, 135–36, 143–44, 150, 164, 202, 210; and Anglo-American relations, 2; and British intelligence, 130, 132, 137, 164; and British long-range detection, 89; detection of, 2, 46–48, 71, 128; and Eric Welsh, 175; implications for Anglo-American intelligence, 49, 52, 91–92, 135–36, 147, 160, 207–8; intelligence forecasts, 39, 40, 148, 155–56, 162–63; and Klaus Fuchs, 50, 59, 61–62; and Philby, 79–81; role of espionage, 63; and US intelligence, 52, 141 Joe-2 (Soviet nuclear test), 93, 129 Joe-3 (Soviet nuclear test), 94 Joe-4 (Soviet nuclear test), 96 Joe-5 (Soviet nuclear test), 98 Joe-17 (Soviet nuclear test), 105–6 Joe-18 (Soviet nuclear test), 106 Joe-19 (Soviet nuclear test), 104, 106, 111, 114, 214 Joint Air Photographic Intelligence Board, 14, 26 Joint Chiefs of Staff, 73–74 Joint Intelligence Bureau, 3, 174, 177, 179, 186–88, 198, 202, 208 Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC), 5, 9, 15, 37, 39, 172–73, 208–9, 216; and Alan Nunn May, 21; atomic intelligence collection, 27; and atomic intelligence organisation, 11, 13–14, 37, 168–69, 172–74, 186–88, 198, 207–8; and Bossard, 179; and Daniel Report, 172; debris analysis, 94, 156; estimates of Soviet aircraft, 160, 191–92; estimates of Soviet plutonium, 189; estimates of the Soviet programme, 38, 62, 156, 160, 190, 208; estimates of Soviet strategy, 39, 42, 161–64, 191–93;

impact of a test ban on the Soviet Union, 115; importance of gauging atomic developments, 9, 10; importance of Soviet uranium, 30; indications of a nuclear programme, 37; and JS/JTIC, 132; photographic reconnaissance, 90; requirements for atomic intelligence, 53; Soviet espionage, 22, 58, 61, 73, 75; Soviet guided weapons, 195–97; Soviet nuclear tests, 107; US bomber gap, 162 Joint Nuclear Energy Intelligence Committee, 15, 188 Joint Scientific and Technical Intelligence Committee, 12, 39, 132 Jones, R.V., 205; and Bertie Blount, 132; critique of atomic intelligence, 53, 130, 134, 171, 188; and Daniel Report, 169; and Eric Welsh, 19; nature of scientific intelligence, 33, 86; and Operation Nomination, 145–46 Kapitza, Peter, 10–11, 29 Kapustin Yar, 107, 195–96 Kelly, Peter, 22, 115, 178, 203 Kent, Sherman, 193 KGB, 84, 138 Khariton, Yuli, 32, 113 Killian, James, 194 Killian Committee, 194 King (US nuclear test), 96 Kirkman, Major General, 134 Krasnoyarsk, 140 Krypton-85, 142–45, 147, 167, 180, 182–86, 213 Kuibyshev, 101 Kurchatov, Boris, 112 Kyshtym, 153 LeBaron, Robert, 63, 145 Liddell, Guy, 68 Lilienthal, David, 20, 28, 33 Longair, Alex, 65 Long-range detection, 2, 14, 43, 71, 137, 150, 195, 202, 211; and British intelligence, 14, 187, 206; debris analysis, 143; and the Green Run, 145; importance of, 137, 202; importance to Anglo-American relations, 164, 166, 170, 181, 195, 211, 213; and Joe-1, 71;

Index and the Music Programme, 181; 1948 modus vivendi, 71, 142; organisation in the US, 135; organisation of, 176; origins, 43, 45; and Philby, 80; and Soviet nuclear tests, 150, 156; Whitehall’s view on, 110 Los Alamos, 61, 63, 83, 110 Lowenhaupt, Henry, 6, 152 M-4 Bison, 191 Macklen, Victor, 186 Maclean, Donald, 3, 69–77, 79, 81, 83–84, 210 Macmillan, Harold, 109, 180, 199, 201, 214 Makins, Roger, 18, 70–71 Manhattan Engineering District, 14–16, 30 Manhattan Project, 40, 65, 83–84, 207, 212 Mann, Wilfrid, 4, 119, 136, 176, 200; and Anglo-American relations, 18, 136; appointment, 17; biography, 17; and Donald Maclean, 71–72; and Eric Welsh, 175; and Guy Burgess, 76; importance to Anglo-American relations, 212; and Joe-1, 46–47, 50, 52; and Operation Nomination, 145; and organisation of atomic intelligence, 133; and Philby, 50, 79, 81; and Pontecorvo, 66; resignation, 136; views of US intelligence, 41, 149 Mark, Carson, 115, 158 Marley, Greg, 47, 95, 146 McGrigor, Rhoderick, 172 McMahon, Brien, 15, 147–48 McMahon Act, 18, 98–99, 214; and atomic intelligence, 16, 41, 87, 97–98, 110, 131, 164, 166, 189, 214; British views of, 58; creation, 15, 212; and Fuchs, 61, 213; termination, 3, 165, 167, 199; and US-UK relations, 3, 16–17, 27, 36, 53, 60, 70, 98–99, 145, 148, 155, 184, 200 McNab, John, 176 McNeil, Hector, 75–76 Menzies, Stewart, 11, 13, 26, 44, 69. See also ‘C’ MGB, 138 MI5, 18, 72, 75, 83; and Alan Nunn May, 22; and authorisation of The Traitors, 65; and Burgess and Maclean, 72, 77, 83; and Cairncross, 83; and Klaus

291

Fuchs, 60–61, 64; and Philby, 78, 80, 82; and Pontecorvo, 66–68; security procedures, 65; and Soviet espionage, 57–59, 82, 84–85 MI6. See Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) Mike (US nuclear test), 96 Military Liaison Committee, 63, 199 Millikin, Eugene, 51 Ministry of Defence, 168, 173, 184–85, 188; and DSI, 186; and the Music Programme, 185; organisation of atomic intelligence, 3, 102, 134–35, 137, 165, 168, 171–74, 176, 188, 198, 207; and Welsh and Jones, 135 Ministry of Supply, 170; and debris analysis, 90; and Klaus Fuchs, 59; and Michael Perrin, 132; and Operation Nomination, 146; and organisation of atomic intelligence, 3, 12–13, 102, 130, 134–35, 167–68, 170, 206; and Pontecorvo, 67, 69; and uranium, 44; and Wilfrid Mann, 136 Mirror imaging, 28, 55 Missile gap, 195, 214 Modin, Yuri, 70 Modus vivendi (1948), 17, 71, 91, 100, 142, 213. See also Area 5 Moorehead, Alan, 65, 69 Morgan, Frank, 89, 90, 93, 100, 110, 121, 171 Morgan, Frederick, 168, 170 Mosaic (UK nuclear test), 111 Murray, Thomas, 114 Murray Hill Area, 31 Music Programme, 3, 182, 184, 203; Australian aspects of, 182; British aspects of, 103; description of activities, 167, 183; impact on AngloAmerican relations, 131, 149, 164, 167, 180–81, 184, 186, 193, 200, 212–13; importance of, 202, 211; origins, 98; termination, 185, 198; use in intelligence forecasts, 189; views on, 181 MVD, 139–40 Nagasaki, 7, 23, 30, 62 National Security Administration, 105, 196 National Security Council, 146

292

Index

NATO, 75, 83 Naval Research Laboratory, 48 Nichols, Kenneth, 63 Nocturnal (debris collection flights), 45 Northrup, Doyle, 46, 115 Novaya Zemlya, 104–6, 108, 209 Novosibirsk, 140 Nuclear Energy Group, 15, 25, 41, 135, 146, 149, 189 Nunn May, Alan, 21, 23, 34, 51, 58–59, 66, 78, 210 Office of Scientific Intelligence, 189 Oldfield, Maurice, 80 Operation Baccy, 183 Operation Bluenose, 144 Operation Borodino, 29 Operation Crossroads, 45 Operation Evacuation East, 30 Operation Falcon, 108 Operation Fitzwilliam, 45–46, 143 Operation Hardtack, 107 Operation Hurricane, 89, 91 Operation Kidney, 24 Operation Matchbox, 25 Operation Nomination, 150; basis for intelligence forecasts, 92, 189; description of activities, 145, 180; importance of, 146, 180, 211; origins, 141, 145; replaced by the Music Programme, 167 Operation Novice, 183 Operation Rakish, 183 Operation Reduction, 95 Operation Robin, 195 Operation Spanner, 26 Operation Teaparty, 183 Operation Totem, 97 Operation Unsparing, 127, 182–84 Operation Vermont, 36, 48 Orlando, 145 Paterson, Geoffrey, 80 Pearl (Soviet nuclear test), 94 Penney, William, 121, 171; and AngloAmerican relations, 64; and atomic intelligence, 172–73; and the Conference of Experts, 114–16; and the Daniel Report, 169; and debris analysis, 45, 90–91, 110; and Donald

Maclean, 70; and the hydrogen bomb, 97, 111, 157, 213; and Joe-1, 47, 49; and Klaus Fuchs, 61; and Operation Nomination, 146; and Pontecorvo, 66; relations with the Americans, 201; representation in the US, 200; and seismic analysis, 103; views of Eric Welsh, 171 Perrin, Michael, 12, 65; and atomic intelligence, 205; and Eric Welsh, 12; and Joe-1, 47; and Klaus Fuchs, 48, 51, 59–61, 63, 65, 71, 83, 155; and Pontecorvo, 68; retirement, 136; and R.V. Jones, 135; and Soviet espionage, 22, 58; views on the organisation of atomic intelligence, 132 Petrov, Vladimir, 77 Philby, Kim, 78–80; alleged to be the ‘Third Man,’ 77; and atomic intelligence, 81; British suspicions of, 3, 82; career in SIS, 78; defection, 77; and Donald Maclean, 72–73; and Guy Burgess, 76, 81; and Igor Gouzenko, 22; and Joe-1, 47, 50, 79, 80; KGB view of, 84; and Klaus Fuchs, 79, 80; and Pontecorvo, 68; and Soviet espionage, 58, 210; and Venona material, 59; and Wilfrid Mann, 79 Pincher, Chapman, 145–46, 180 Plutonium, 2, 144, 148, 153–54, 180, 185, 189, 213 Pontecorvo, Bruno, 3, 65–69, 73, 84, 210 Portal, Charles, 43 Positive Vetting, 65, 146 Potts, Archie, 198 Prayer (Soviet nuclear test), 93 Pressure (Soviet nuclear test), 94 Project Wringer, 23 Projekt Hermes, 177 Rabi, Isador, 1 Racket (Soviet nuclear test), 98 Ranger (US nuclear test), 92, 94 Reid, Stuart, 199 Returnee Exploration Group, 177 Riehl, Nikolaus, 25, 29, 31, 151, 178 Roberts, Frank, 11 Romney, Carl, 102, 144 Rosenbluth, Marshall, 158 Rositzke, Harry, 140

Index Royal Air Force, 9, 45; and atomic intelligence, 34, 176, 184, 187, 198, 206; collection of debris, 93–94; and Joe-1, 47; and the Music Programme, 182–83, 185; nuclear strategy, 33; and overflights, 195; radio-proving flights, 179; relations with USAF, 92; views of the Soviet Union, 9 Royal Australian Air Force, 182–83 Rusk, Dean, 214 Sakharov, Andrei, 112 Salimanov, Colonel, 138 Sandstone (US nuclear test series), 92, 143 Sandys, Duncan, 193 Sch., Walter, 140 Scientific Advisory Committee, 82, 86 Scientific and Technical Intelligence Branch (STIB), xvii, 21, 23–24, 150–52, 177–79 Scoville, Herbert, 115 Secret Intelligence Service (SIS), 9, 12–14, 77–78, 80–82, 102, 133, 146, 150, 176, 205–6; activities in Germany, 25, 138, 150–51; and aerial reconnaissance, 26; and atomic intelligence, 13, 133–34, 173, 184, 188, 198, 207; and atomic intelligence organisation, 11; and Bossard, 178; collection activities, 182, 210; and Daniel Report, 169; and Donald Maclean, 72; and Eric Welsh, 12, 34, 43, 102, 130, 135, 170, 172, 206; and Gouzenko, 22; and Guy Burgess, 75; and Joe-1, 46–47; liaison officers in the US, 176; and Operation Nomination, 145–16; and Panton, 187; and Philby, 59, 77–82; and Pontecorvo, 67; and R.V. Jones, 205; and Soviet espionage, 69; and STIB, 24; and TAL, 13–14, 176; and TCS, 176; and test monitoring, 14, 44, 102; views of the Soviet Union, 1, 9; and Wilfrid Mann, 17–18, 136; and Younson, 201. See also Technical Atomic Liaison (TAL); Technical Co-ordinating Section (TCS) Seeman, Colonel L., 17, 41 Semipalatinsk, 1, 90, 93–94, 96, 100, 103, 105–8, 156 Shell Mex House, 13 SIGINT, 36, 53, 209

293

Sinclair, John, 170, 172 Skardon, William, 60 Smith, Walter Bedell, 52, 145, 147, 148 Smyth Report, 20–21, 23 Snelling, Robert, 176 SOE, 132 Sokolov, Lieutenant Colonel, 32 Soviet capabilities, intelligence on, 162, 209, 215 Soviet hydrogen bomb programme, 58, 113, 157, 159, 164 Soviet ICBM, 168 Soviet intentions, intelligence on, 162, 164, 209, 215 Soviet long-range detection programme, 112–13 Soviet nuclear sufficiency, 190, 192, 202–3 Soviet plutonium output, 137, 145 Soviet stockpile, 150, 180, 193, 211; and British intelligence, 187; estimates of, 41, 62, 133, 149–50, 156, 166, 180–81, 189–90, 193; importance of knowing, 36–37, 137, 141–42, 162, 202, 210–11; and Klaus Fuchs, 61; and the Music Programme, 203; reassessment after Joe-1, 147–48; use in gauging strategy, 42, 192 Soviet uranium, 137, 141, 166 Special Monitoring Service, 112 Sputnik, 3, 186, 194, 197–99, 212 Stalin, Josef, 84, 163 State Department, 15; and atomic intelligence, 52, 207; and Donald Maclean, 73–74; and intelligence estimates, 15; and Joe-1, 43; and Klaus Fuchs, 60; views of CIA estimates, 41 Stewart, Ken, 200 Sub-Committee on Atomic Energy Intelligence, 173–74, 185, 187–88, 198 Sub-Committee on Intelligence on Nuclear Weapons Systems, 188 Technical Atomic Liaison (TAL), 102, 176, 200–201; activities in Germany, 150, 154; and atomic intelligence, 102, 117, 173, 176, 187, 207; collection activities, 26; description, 13–14; and Eric Welsh, 14; and the Music Programme, 181, 184; and Operation Nomination, 145–46; representative in

294

Index

Technical Atomic Liaison (continued ) the US, 187, 200–201; and Robert Press, 136, 198; and STIB, 24; and test monitoring, 44, 130; and uranium mining, 137. See also Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) Technical Co-ordinating Section (TCS), 13, 138, 150–51, 154, 176 Technical Research Unit (TRU), 102, 173, 176, 187, 198, 201; and atomic intelligence, 117; and Conference of Experts, 115; and the Music Programme, 181–86; and Nikolaus Riehl, 178; organisation, 102, 173–74, 176, 187–88, 198–201, 207; and Peter Kelly, 203; and scientific intelligence, 175, 186 Tedder, Arthur, 43 Telecommunications Research Establishment, 44 Teller, Edward, 111, 157–58, 202 Titterton, Ernest, 103 Tizard, Henry, 9, 50, 54, 206 Tizard Report, 9, 10, 160, 215 Totem (UK nuclear test series), 97 Totsk (Soviet nuclear test), 99–101, 196 Tracerlab Inc, 46, 48 Trinity (US nuclear test), 1, 61 Tripp, Brenda, 22 Truman, Harry, 15, 27, 48, 72, 93, 146, 207 Tu-4 Bull, 32–33, 51, 160–61, 191 Tu-95 Bear, 191–92 Tube Alloys (TA) Advisory Committee, 11 Turney, George, 174 Twining, Nathan, 92 Tyuratam, 196 U-2, 196 Ulam, Stanislaw, 157 Uranium, 26, 31–32, 38, 50, 54, 70, 131, 138–40, 148, 154, 210 USAF. See US Air Force US Air Force, 5, 92, 143, 162–63; aerial reconnaissance, 26; and the bomber gap, 161–62, 192; and Eric Welsh, 175; and ferret flights, 179; and Joe-1, 40; and the Music Programme, 184–85; relations with Britain, 52, 92, 176; and test monitoring, 46, 135, 143

US Intelligence Advisory Board, 15 US Navy, 184 V-2 rocket, 194 Value of monitoring, 109 Vandenburg, Hoyt, 92 Vassall, John, 84 VENONA, 59, 72, 76, 80, 83–84 Von Ardenne, Manfred, 29, 152 Von Neumann, John, 157 Walkling, Alex, 200 Weapon Development Policy Committee, 110 Welsh, Eric: and activities in Germany, 24, 151; and aerial reconnaissance, 26; and atomic intelligence organisation, 3, 8, 13, 51, 130, 132–35, 164, 168–70, 172–74, 205–7; attempts to bribe US officials, 18; background, 12; biography, 12; and collection activities in Germany, 25–26; and Cornish uranium, 44; and COS requirements, 142; critique of, 19; and Daniel Report, 169; death, 165, 167, 175, 202; and Donald Maclean, 72; heart attack, 175; and Icarus, 139; and intelligence analysis, 28; and intelligence collection efforts, 23; and intelligence estimates, 39, 40, 147; and intelligence targets, 14; and JIC requirements, 53; and Joe1, 46–47, 49, 81, 162; and Julia Alloway, 175; and Klaus Fuchs, 50–51, 155; and Michael Perrin, 12; and the Music Programme, 98; and Operation Nomination, 145–46; performance of, 54; and Philby, 78–79, 81; and relations with the US, 8, 18, 98, 140, 165, 170; representative in the US, 16–17, 44, 136, 145; and R.V. Jones, 19, 135, 169, 205; and SIS, 13–14, 43, 206; successes of, 34, 135, 167, 201, 205; and test monitoring, 95, 102, 137, 154; views of scientific intelligence, 170; views of US intelligence, 41, 149; views on, 170–71, 175; and Wilfrid Mann, 136, 145 White, Dick, 59, 67, 82 Whitehall: and the AEA, 168, 207; and atomic intelligence, 7, 8, 109, 198; and

Index atomic secrecy, 24; and Burgess and Maclean, 72, 77, 83; and Eric Welsh, 130, 167, 175; exchange of intelligence in, 19; and JIC documents, 37; and Joe-1, 164; and the Music Programme, 181, 201; and R.V. Jones, 134, 205; and scientific intelligence, 12; and STIB, 177; views of the Soviet Union, 9; views on Anglo-American relations, 18

Williams, Eric, 174, 198 Wilson, Carroll, 46 Wilson, Henry, 110 Wismut, AG, 138–40 Working Party on Atomic Energy, 174 Wormwood Scrubs, 63 Wright, Claud, 171 Wright, Michael, 114 Younson, Eric, 200–201

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Stanford Nuclear Age Series General Editor, Martin Sherwin

advisory board Barton J. Bernstein, David Holloway, and Wolfgang K. H. Panofsky

The End of the Pacific War: Reappraisals. Edited by Tsuyoshi Hasegawa. 2007. Eisenhower, Science Advice, and the Nuclear Test-Ban Debate, 1945–1963. Benjamin P. Greene. 2006. A World Destroyed: Hiroshima and Its Legacies, 3rd edition. Martin Sherwin. 2003. Averting ‘The Final Failure’: John F. Kennedy and the Secret Cuban Missile Crisis Meetings. Sheldon M. Stern. 2003. The Struggle Against the Bomb, volume 3: Toward Nuclear Abolition, A History of the World Nuclear Disarmament Movement, 1971–Present. Lawrence S. Wittner. 2003. Another Such Victory: President Truman and the Cold War, 1945–1953. Arnold A. Offner. 2002. Einstein and Soviet Ideology. Alexander Vucinich. 2001. Cardinal Choices: Presidential Science Advising from the Atomic Bomb to SDI. Revised and expanded edition. Gregg Herken. 2000. ‘The Fate of the Earth’ and ‘The Abolition.’ Jonathan Schell. With a new introduction by the author. 2000. The Struggle Against the Bomb, volume 2: Resisting the Bomb, A History of the World Nuclear Disarmament Movement, 1954–1970. Lawrence S. Wittner. 1997. James B. Conant: Harvard to Hiroshima and the Making of the Nuclear Age. James G. Hershberg. 1993. The Struggle Against the Bomb, volume 1: One World or None, A History of the World Nuclear Disarmament Movement Through 1953. Lawrence S. Wittner. 1993. A Preponderance of Power: National Security, the Truman Administration, and the Cold War. Melvyn P. Leffler. 1992.

The Wizards of Armageddon. Fred Kaplan. New foreword by Martin J. Sherwin. 1983. Reissued 1991. Robert Oppenheimer: Letters and Recollections. Edited by Alice Kimball Smith and Charles Weiner. New foreword by Martin J. Sherwin. 1980. Reissued 1995. The Advisors: Oppenheimer, Teller, and the Superbomb. By Herbert F. York. With a new Preface and Epilogue. Historical essay by Hans A. Bethe. 1976. Reissued 1989. The Voice of the Dolphins and Other Stories. Leo Szilard. 1961. Reissued 1991. Atomic Energy for Military Purposes. Henry D. Smith. Preface by Philip Morrison. 1945. New foreword 1989.