http://www.techcentralstation.com/040104C.html

Hell in a Suitcase
By Ralph Kinney Bennett

I will never forget the image. An unassuming looking man walking the streets of London with a bulging briefcase. Inside it, an atomic bomb.

It was back in 1950. I was just a kid, and I sat immobilized in my seat at the Manos Theater in Latrobe, Pa., watching a British film "Seven Days to Noon." In it, a leading British atomic scientist, played by now-forgotten actor Barry Jones, posts a letter to the Prime Minister saying he has taken a small nuclear weapon and will detonate it in the center of London in seven days unless the government agrees to abandon its atomic weapons program.

The story of how the police track down "Professor John Willoughby," meanwhile evacuating the city of London, was absolutely riveting. And the scenes of a deserted London as the last day approached were eerie and unforgettable.

I'm pretty sure this Boulting Brothers movie -- filmed in black and white with an almost documentary feel to it -- was the first to introduce the idea of carrying a nuclear weapon around in some sort of case. Very little was publicly known about nuclear weapons at that time. People had little sense of their size or shape. There was only a vague understanding that something relatively small had caused horrendously big explosions at Nagasaki and Hiroshima. So the idea of an atomic bomb in a suitcase was not implausible.

We now know how really big and heavy the first atomic bombs, Fat Man and Little Boy, were. But within a few years of the appearance of this movie the U.S. had developed not only artillery shell-sized nuclear munitions but also an 11- by 16- inch oval warhead, the W-54. Dubbed the Davy Crockett, it weighed as little as 51 pounds and could be fired by a soldier from a recoilless rifle!

The closest the U.S. is known to have come to a "suitcase" or hand-carried weapon was a variation of the W-54 called, interestingly enough, the SADM (small atomic demolition munition). This device -- officially the Mk-54 -- would have required a mighty big suitcase. It was a fat cylinder, 15 inches (diameter) by 24 inches, not unlike one of those big plastic buckets you can buy bulk paint in at Home Depot, and it weighed 150 pounds.

Since the deployment (and eventual retirement) of these weapons, more ingenious designs and advances in explosives, structural materials and microelectronics, have brought relative miniaturization of nuclear weapons to a multi-billion dollar high art, making possible the stuffing of warheads by the half-dozens into missile nose cones

"Relative" is the key word here. How small can a nuclear bomb be? What are the downscale physical limits to making one? It is important to have some concept of these limits as we consider the occasional alarms in the media regarding terrorists and "suitcase" or (lately) "backpack" nuclear bombs. Last week were heard al-Qaeda claims that it has a couple of suitcase bombs it bought from Russians years ago. Chechnyan rebels have made similar claims in the past, as have Palestinian terrorists.

The infamous Soviet-made suitcase bombs that supposedly disappeared from inventory sometime after the break-up of the Soviet Union have been the subject of numerous investigations and much fevered speculation. It is known that the Soviets, like the United States, developed small nuclear munitions, small enough to be fired in artillery shells or to be hand-carried (by one or more soldiers) as a demolition device. If they designed and built one that could actually fit in a large brief case, one of them has not shown up anywhere, nor has an official photograph or blueprint of it.

The ones described by Soviet General Alexander Lebed, in sensational Congressional hearings back in 1997, were supposedly in suitcases approximately 24 x 16 x 8 inches. A mock-up of such a bomb, using the warhead of an American nuclear artillery shell, was constructed and, indeed, all the necessary items -- neutron generators, batteries, arming mechanism etc. -- were successfully stuffed in around the cylindrical device itself. (For a photo of the mock-up and more see nuclearweaponarchive.org/News/Lebedbomb.html. This is an excellent site thanks to the expository writing of Carey Sublette.)

There continue to be disturbing rumors, and in some cases evidence of fissile material and dangerous nuclear byproducts (strontium, cesium etc.) floating around the international underworld. And while nothing should be considered beyond the scope of determined terrorists with enough money, building a hand carried nuclear weapon "from scratch," so to speak, would be very difficult.

The starting point would be a critical mass of plutonium or U-233. This would be a sphere about 4 or 5 inches in diameter and weighing roughly 28 to 30 pounds. Since the carriers of the weapon would presumably be in close quarters with it for some period of time, the critical mass would have to be of "supergrade" plutonium, which would be relatively safe to handle because it gives off lower neutron emissions. Beyond that, design variations (neutron reflector, high explosive, trigger type etc.) and the packaging for the device would add to size and weight depending on materials used, ingenuity of layout and other factors.

Part of the design of U.S. and probably Soviet small atomic munitions was to insure maximum safety to handlers and enough robustness to preclude accidental damage. These might not be particularly acute considerations for some terrorists, who would be thinking more about portability and concealment.

There can be little doubt that next to the acquisition of an actual contained nuclear munition (in a suitcase or whatever) the acquisition of an artillery-type nuclear warhead would be the ticket for terrorists -- a sort of advanced starter kit. The smallest one the U.S. ever deployed in its arsenal was the M-45, which could be fired from a 155 mm cannon. It was 6.1 inches in diameter (caliber) and 34 inches long. It weighed up to 128 pounds. Remove the conical tip and fuse from one of those and you reduce the length enough to barely fit diagonally in the Soviet-sized suitcase.

But, hey, why not a larger suitcase? Or a crate, or a strong cardboard box? How about the trunk of a car? The possibilities for concealing or disguising a nuclear weapon are endless. Take a look, for instance, at one of those high-capacity air compressors you can buy in any Sears hardware department.

The big question is the shelf-life and availability of nuclear artillery shells. The U.S. shells are apparently accounted for and secure. Whether all the Soviet era mini-warheads can be accounted for is another story.

The shelf-life issue is important. If there is a nuclear munition or more than one "out there," its condition could be in question. A nuclear weapon involves the melding of a variety of materials in close proximity -- metals, plastics, ceramics, exotic high explosives and, of course plutonium and uranium. Things happen inside a nuclear weapon even when it is just sitting.

The plutonium core gives off quite a bit of heat. This will warm the other parts of the weapon up to as much as 100 degrees Fahrenheit. Uranium "rusts" in much the same manner as steel when exposed to the air. And even though warheads are sealed in airtight metal containers, the materials inside -- the explosives and plastic, for instance -- give off trace amounts of oxygen, hydrogen and water vapor that can eventually cause oxidation and corrosion, both of which are abetted by the weapon's intrinsic heat. The high explosives in the detonating "lenses" of a weapon also have been known to deteriorate.

So, unless the purloined (or purchased) warhead was regularly monitored and, if necessary, refurbished by experts it might become dangerously unstable or perhaps not work at all. It's conceivable that the conventional explosives might detonate incompletely and that the nuclear core might be scattered rather than being "assembled" to cause a nuclear explosion. Thus a "dirty bomb" incident, spreading radioactive material, would be the result.

Of course a nuclear weapon gives off a significant signature in the form of both gamma rays and neutrons. A huge effort is being made to employ a variety of gamma and neutron spectrometry devices at ports of entry and the perimeters of potential targets. But these devices (and more sophisticated ones are now being worked on at the national laboratories) are not foolproof. Distance, shielding of various types (tungsten, lead, steel of a given thickness) and the problem of false positives and false negatives are some of the challenges now being wrestled with by detection experts.

In the end, an atomic bomb in a suitcase is really just a metaphor, not only for the portability of nuclear weapons but for the new and ominous possibility of who might be carrying them. The fictional tweedy professor who terrorized London in "Seven Days to Noon" was a misguided idealist with a bomb in a satchel. Those who now seek to terrorize the West and particularly the United States are hate-filled killers who have glorified suicide as a virtue and are bending every effort to secure and use "the bomb," be it in a suitcase, a packing crate, a car or whatever will surreptitiously deliver it to target. "If" is not the question. Where and when are.

Ralph Kinney Bennett recently wrote for TCS about the military's efforts to reduce collateral damage.

AP: Miners Drawn to Illegal Congo Uranium
By TODD PITMAN, Associated Press Writer
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story2&u=/ap/20040601/ap_on_re_af/nuclear_congo

SHINKOLOBWE, Congo - Business is booming in the mining zone that supplied uranium for the atomic bombs unleashed on Hiroshima and Nagasaki ” despite a decree by Congo's president banning all mining activity here.

President Joseph Kabila ordered the zone closed three months ago amid growing concerns that unregulated nuclear materials could get into the hands of so-called rogue nations or terrorist groups. Yet 1,000 miles away from the capital, Kinshasa, thousands of diggers are still hacking away at a dark cavity of open earth in this southeastern village, filling thousands of burlap sacks a day with black soil rich in cobalt, copper ” and radioactive uranium.

The illegal mining provides stark evidence of how little control Africa's third-largest nation has over its own nuclear resources, highlighting the government's weak authority beyond the capital in the aftermath of Congo's devastating 1998-2002 war.

"They're digging as fast as they can dig, and everyone is buying it," John Skinner, a mining engineer in the nearby town of Likasi, said of the illegal freelance mining at Shinkolobwe. "The problem is that nobody knows where it's all going. There is no control."

The raw uranium is an inadvertent addition to the miners' real prize ” high-grade cobalt in lucrative concentrations ” and there is no evidence Congo's uranium is being spirited away to terrorists. The United States, which pressured Kabila to close the mine out of concern over the uranium, said in March it did not believe there was any "worrisome movement" of the radioactive ore at Shinkolobwe.

But some proliferation experts worry because the digging is uncontrolled, and they caution that even small amounts should be tracked for misuse.

Shinkolobwe's deposits were discovered in 1915 when Congo was a Belgian colony. The find helped thrust the world into the nuclear age, providing much of the uranium used in the atomic bombs the United States dropped on Japan in 1945.

Shinkolobwe ceased to be profitable and closed in 1960, Mining Minister Diomi Ndongala said. Belgian authorities, apparently concerned about the mine's safety, filled the main uranium shaft with concrete.

Congo's war and accompanying lawlessness brought prospectors back in 1998. Miners dug new pits just a couple hundred yards from the rusting, weed-choked uranium factory.

Kabila moved against the mine in February to "protect the environment, the population and the world against terrorism," Ndongala said.

His ban has never been enforced, however. Ndongala spoke of plans to drive the miners away from Shinkolobwe with soldiers, but said his cash-strapped government "doesn't have the means" to do so.

And perhaps, little real incentive.

Mining is big business in Congo. Government officials declined to give figures on the cobalt industry, but overall exports ” including cobalt, diamonds, copper and coffee ” topped $1 billion in 2002.

Today at Shinkolobwe, some 5,500 Congolese using shovels, hoes and bare hands haul ores overland to nearby Likasi, where businessmen from Africa, India, China and elsewhere have set up 13 smelting mills.

The end product, and just as often the raw material itself, known as heteroginite, is shipped south by road to neighboring Zambia, and then abroad.

Industry officials say the heteroginite primarily contains high-grade cobalt.

But "trace quantities of uranium are being exported unwittingly" along with it, said Skinner, the mining engineer, a Zimbabwean who is a longtime Congo resident.

The diggers, uneducated, hungry and fearful for their jobs, deny any uranium is being mined.
   
Provincial governor Aime Ngoy Mukena confirmed to The Associated Press that the heteroginite contains uranium, but he and other officials declined to say precisely how much.

Alex Stewart (Assayers) Ltd., a British-based company that provides lab services to the mining industry, found "a high concentration of the highly radioactive uranium-235 in steels from Shinkolobwe," European Parliament member Bart Staes wrote to the European Commission in 2003.

The isotope uranium-235 is needed to support chain reactions in nuclear reactors and weapons. The metal must be refined first, a process called enrichment.

Foreign experts say the uranium being dug up at Shinkolobwe is not significant enough to attract terrorists ” a basic bomb needs a half-dozen tons of the raw ore. But no one consistently monitors how much is being mined or exported.

About 20 state mining police officers are posted at Shinkolobwe, but their main task is to ensure diggers pay their taxes. On the Congolese frontier, underpaid officials are easily bribed to let shipments through.

"It's a whole other problem when governments can't control what happens on their own land," said Michael Levi, a science and technology fellow at the Brookings Institution in Washington.

Mukena, the governor, told AP that government experts test all minerals for export, but state labs do not have the means to detect uranium.

"There is no local laboratory that can do it," Mukena said, adding that Shinkolobwe was closed partly for that reason.

The U.S. government recently sent experts to inspect Shinkolobwe. U.S. Embassy officials in Kinshasa declined to detail their findings.

The International Atomic Energy Agency, the U.N. organization that monitors nuclear facilities, also has offered to inspect the mines. The government has not taken up the offer, agency spokeswoman Melissa Fleming said by telephone from IAEA headquarters in Vienna, Austria.

The IAEA begins tracking uranium ore only after it has been enriched into weapons-grade material, a process that requires extremely sophisticated technical know-how, Fleming said.

"There is a huge, long process you have to go through before it gets to a point of concern for the world," Fleming said.

Tom Cochrane, director of the nuclear program at the Natural Resources Defense Council, a Washington-based advocacy group, agreed.

Pre-enriched, "it's not very good dirty-bomb material," he said.

Levi, however, argued that even small quantities should be tracked.

"The assumption in the past was always that you'd have to divert a huge amount of uranium to make a bomb," Levi said from Washington. "But you can do most of the research leading to a bomb with small amounts of uranium. So you can get very far without being detected."

Saddam Hussein's intelligence archives show a middleman in Nairobi, Kenya, offered to supply Iraq with Congo uranium in 2000, Newsweek reported in its May 17 issue. A note in the intelligence service's file suggested Iraq was then under too much international scrutiny to pursue the deal but recommended Iraq "maintain contact" with the middleman.

The Shinkolobwe mine is not Congo's only nuclear worry. In the capital, an aging, low-power research reactor still operates on an erosion-prone hill at the university.

It has been criticized for lax security, and two of its nuclear fuel rods were stolen in the late 1980s. One was later found in Italy. The other remains missing.

As for Shinkolobwe, "if there was really a political will to close it, it could be closed in a day," Skinner said. "But everybody is making money out of it, and at the end of the day, that's what it's all about."