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CP-1 GOES CRITICAL
(Met Lab, December 2, 1942)
Events >
The Plutonium Path to the
Bomb,
1942-1944
While arrangements were proceeding for the construction
of full-size plutonium
production reactors, critical questions remained about their
basic
design. The Italian physicist Enrico
Fermi
hoped to answer some of these questions with CP-1,
his
experimental "Chicago Pile #1" at the University
of Chicago. On December 2, 1942, after a series of
frustrating
delays, CP-1 first achieved a self-sustaining fission chain reaction.
After
the end of the war, Leslie Groves,
commander of
the Manhattan Project, described the first time CP-1 went critical
as the single most important scientific event in the development of
atomic power.
An
outsider viewing preparations for this historic moment would have been
greeted by a strange sight. In an abandoned squash court under
the west
grandstand of the University of Chicago's Stagg Field there lay a huge
oblong pile of black
bricks and wooden timbers, shrouded on all sides but one by gray
balloon
material. (Security regulations had forbidden the engineers from
explaining to
Goodyear what the Army wanted with a giant square balloon.)
Workers machined bricks for the pile
until their faces were so covered with graphite dust that they looked
like coal
miners. They sang together to pass the time during their 12-hour
shifts,
and afterwards it took them half an hour to remove the graphite dust
from their
skin. The dust also made the cement floor dangerously
slippery.
What an outsider would not have understood -- but what
the men and
women who would operate it certainly did -- was how dangerous this pile
of wood and bricks really was. The wooden timbers supported a
lattice
structure that contained over six tons of pure uranium
metal, along with 34 more tons of uranium oxide. The almost 400 tons of
black bricks in the assembly were graphite, placed there to
serve as moderators; the
bricks in two of every three layers had a nodule of uranium inside each
of
them. The presence of so much "moderating" material might have
sounded comforting
to outsiders until they learned that the moderators were there to increase
the amount of fission
produced by the uranium. The only things preventing a fission
chain reaction from
growing within the pile were a series of cadmium rods inserted into the
pile's side to
absorb the free neutrons emitted by
the radioactive
uranium. Unlike most reactors that have been built since, this
first one had no radiation shielding and no cooling
system of any kind. Fermi had convinced Arthur Compton that his calculations
were reliable enough to rule out a runaway chain reaction or an
explosion, but, as the official historians of the Atomic Energy
Commission later noted, the "gamble" remained in conducting "a
possibly catastrophic experiment in one of the most densely populated
areas of the nation!"
Daily
the pile grew, brick by brick. Tests on the early afternoon of
December 1st indicated that it was very close to being ready. By
that
evening, the scientists present were convinced that if they withdrew
the cadmium
control rods the fission chain reaction in the pile would be
self-sustaining. Final preparations for the first test
began. The
next morning most of the observers found themselves crowded together
onto a
balcony where squash spectators had once stood, ten feet above the
floor on the north end of the room.
Fermi, Compton, Walter H. Zinn, and Herbert L. Anderson were grouped
around an instrument console at one end of the
balcony; from there they could operate one set of control rods.
The only
person on the floor of the squash court was George Weil, the man who
would
physically withdraw the final control rod. If the reaction
threatened to
grow out of control Weil could re-insert his control rod, and an
automatic
control rod would also insert itself if the reaction reached a certain
pre-set
level. In case of emergency, such as Weil becoming incapacitated
or
failure of the automatic control rod, Norman Hilberry stood on the
balcony with
an improbable nuclear safety device: an axe. In an emergency, he
would cut
a rope that ran up to the balcony, releasing another emergency control
rod into
the pile. The last line of defense consisted of a "liquid-control
squad" that stood on a platform, ready to flood the pile with a
cadmium-salt solution. Taken together,
these safety precautions were a strange combination of the high-tech
and the ad hoc.
After rehearsals, Fermi at 9:54 a.m.
ordered the electrically-operated
control rods removed. All eyes turned to the array of instruments
indicating the pace of the fission reaction within the pile.
Shortly after
10:00, Fermi ordered the emergency control rod removed and tied to its
rope. At 10:37, Fermi ordered Weil to pull all but thirteen feet
of
the final rod out of the pile. The pace of the audible clicking
from the
neutron counters (similar to Geiger counters) increased. Over the
next few hours, the pile inched its
way toward criticality, Weil gradually removing more and more of the
final rod
while Fermi monitored his array of instruments. William Overbeck
continued to call
out the neutron count over a speaker system while Leona Marshall,
William Sturm,
and Anderson (see the photograph above) recorded the readings from the
instruments. (Marshall, a
physics graduate student, was the only woman present.) At 11:25,
Fermi
ordered the automatic and emergency control rods reinserted for a final
safety
check. Ten minutes later these were both removed in order for the
experiment to
resume. The neutron counters immediately resumed their clicking,
the pace
growing and growing until a sudden "whrrrump!" filled the room.
The automatic control rod had slammed home into the pile, having been
set too
low during the safety check. While everyone present took a few
deep breaths,
Fermi calmly called for lunch.
By
2:00
p.m., everyone had resumed their places. Fermi resumed the slow
process of inching toward criticality, more and more of the control rod
appearing as Weil slowly withdrew it from the pile. Finally Fermi
said to
Compton "this is going to do it. Now it will become
self-sustaining." Everyone waited as Fermi ran through some final
calculations on his slide rule, turning it over occasionally to jot
down some
figures on its ivory back. By this time the clickety-click of the
neutron
counter had become a steady hum, too fast for the ear to count.
At 3:25
p.m., Weil slid the rod back one more time. As Fermi completed
one final
calculation his face broke into a broad smile and he announced "the
reaction is self-sustaining." There was a quiet ripple of
applause in the room. For the
first time in history, humans had unleashed and controlled the power of
the atom. The reactor was
generating about half a watt,
barely enough to power a small light bulb.
Following
28 minutes of operation, at 3:53 p.m. Fermi ordered the emergency
control rod replaced. The neutron counter abruptly slowed; the
chain
reaction was over. The pile had achieved a reproduction
factor k of 1.0006. Eugene Wigner then produced a
bottle of Chianti wine
(right) from behind his back, and paper cups were passed around for
everyone to
drink. The scientists held up their cups in a silent toast.
All of them
but Wigner signed the bottle's label. A report
was quickly dispatched to Groves, and Compton gave James Conant a call to tell
him of their success. No code had been prearranged so they had to
make one up on the
spot. Compton told Conant "the Italian navigator has landed in
the
New World." "How were the natives?" asked Conant.
"Very friendly" was the reply. Leo
Szilard wrote later that his view of the day's events was very
different
-- Szilard lingered on the balcony until most people had left, then
turned to
Fermi, shook his hand, and said that he thought the day would go down
as a "black day in the history of mankind.
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Sources and notes for this page.
The text for this entry is based upon,
and portions were taken directly from, a press release, written by the
Press Relations Section of the Manhattan Project, November 26, 1946 (to
be released December 1, 1946) entitled "Background Material for Use in
Connection with Observance of the Fourth Anniversary, December Second,
of the Scientific Event of Outstanding Significance in the United
States Program of Development of Atomic Energy"; this release is
available on the University Publications of America microfilm
collection President Harry S. Truman's
Office Files, 1945-1953 (Frederick, MD: 1989), Part 3, reel #41/42;
the press release itself is a government document. See also John
F. Hogerton, ed., "Chicago Pile No. 1 (CP-1)," The Atomic Energy
Deskbook (New York: Reinhold Publishing Corporation, 1963, prepared
under the auspices of the Division of Technical Information, U.S. Atomic
Energy Commission), 97-98. For "gamble" quote, see the
History Office publication: Richard G. Hewlett and Oscar E. Anderson,
Jr., The New World, 1939-1946: Volume I, A History of the
United States Atomic Energy Commission (Washington: U.S. Atomic
Energy Commission, 1972), 109. The terms "atomic pile" and "nuclear
reactor" refer to the same thing. The term "pile" was more common
during early atomic research, and it was gradually replaced by
"reactor" in the later years of the Manhattan Project and
afterwards. In this web site, the phrase "pile (reactor)"
is used to refer to early, experimental piles, and "reactor (pile)" is
used to refer to later production reactors, which had more elaborate
controls and in general more closely resembled post-war reactors.
Much as the term "pile" gradually gave way to "reactor," "atomic" was
gradually replaced by "nuclear." The painting of CP-1
going critical and the drawing of the pile by itself are both courtesy
the National Archives. The
photograph of the construction of CP-1 is courtesy Argonne National Laboratory (ANL); it is
reprinted in Rachel Fermi and Esther Samra, Picturing the Bomb:
Photographs from the Secret World of the Manhattan Project (New
York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., Publishers, 1995), 103. Click here for more information on the
photograph of "Met Lab" alumni. The photograph of Enrico Fermi is courtesy the Department of Energy (via the National Archives). The data
printout is reproduced from Hewlett and Anderson, The New World,
between pages 112 and 113. The photograph of the Chianti is
courtesy ANL.
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