The army behind the army

Were you to grow up with a boy who eventually became widely talked about, watching him pass from knickerbockers to trousers and from youthful shyness to burly aggressiveness, the chances are that you would follow his career with an almost proprietary interest, and that when you came upon his picture in The World’s Work or The Police Gazette, according to whether he had become famous or notorious, you would display it to your friends, explaining proudly: “Why, I’ve known him ever since he was a youngster. I always felt sure that he would attract attention some day.”

Such, in a manner of speaking, has been my acquaintance with poison-gas, or toxic-gas, as the chemists call it. I was in the Ypres salient, on the British front, when the first gas attack in the history of warfare was launched against the Africans and Canadians on April 22, 1915, and that night, in the hospitals, I saw the earliest victims of gas warfare, gasping on their cots like fish thrown on the bank to die. On several occasions during the months which followed I again encountered the malign creature—on the Yser, in the Champagne, in Alsace, and on the Isonzo—and on each succeeding occasion it was more threatening and was causing greater concern. So that when, after the United States had been at war a year or more, I visited the great arsenal at Edgewood, on the shores of Chesapeake Bay, and was shown the vast plants devoted to the production of chlorine, chlorpicrin, phosgene, mustard, and other deadly gases, and caught the familiar nauseous odor, I felt as though I were renewing an old and undesirable acquaintance.

I doubt if the Germans started the war with the intention of utilizing poison-gas, for they did not introduce it until nine months after the beginning of hostilities, and even then they apparently failed to realize the terrible potency of their new weapon, for they waited twenty-four hours before following it up with a bayonet attack, evidently fearful that the gas had not dissipated. As a matter of fact, the gas dissipated within thirty-five or forty minutes after its release, though in that time it annihilated 80 per cent of the French, Canadians, and Senegalese opposing it. Had the Germans taken instant and vigorous advantage of the confusion and dismay created by their unexpected use of chlorine, they could unquestionably have broken the Allied front, pushed through to the Channel ports, and changed the entire course of the war. (I might mention, parenthetically, that the British had been warned by a deserter, a week before, that the Germans were making preparations for a gas attack, but they did not believe him.) But the men in the spiked helmets failed to take advantage of the Allies’ temporary panic; the latter had time to improvise a means of defense, and the opportunity of the Germans to win the war by the use of gas was gone. So effectively, indeed, did the Allies turn the new weapon to their own uses that, before the close of 1916, the Germans were putting out feelers for the purpose of bringing about a cessation of this form of warfare. Then the United States entered the war, whereupon all the resources of American laboratories and chemical manufactories were directed toward the production of gas in quantities of which the Germans had never dreamed.

But, even had the Allies been aware of Germany’s intention to make use of toxic-gases for military purposes, they would still have been at an enormous disadvantage, because, as a direct result of her policy of giving government assistance to certain industries, Germany had several huge gas-plants, connected with her dye manufactories, in operation when the war began. Now phosgene, which is comparatively easy to produce, is used extensively in the manufacture of dyes, which explains why the Germans had a virtual monopoly of it when they decided to utilize it for the promotion of dying instead of dyeing. The German Government, it should be remembered, had for years subsidized the entire chemical industry of the empire, so that when the war began it had at its disposal scores of establishments devoted to the production of dyestuffs and pharmaceutical preparations, in the production of which certain toxic-gases are an important factor, which were converted, literally overnight, to military purposes. Though there is no data regarding the German gas production available, it was probably in the neighborhood of 30 tons a day. It may have reached 50 tons, but certainly not more. Though the English, realizing how desperate was the situation, utilized every facility they could command, their total daily output of toxic-gases never went above 30 tons. The best the French could do was much below this. Yet at Edgewood, during the months of September and October, 1918, when the plant had been in operation only a few months, the output averaged 140 tons a day and would have gone much higher had the war continued. In other words, Edgewood Arsenal alone produced nearly twice as much gas per day as Germany, France, and England together.

Now I wish to lay special emphasis on the fact that when the United States decided to manufacture gas, and to manufacture it in hitherto undreamed-of quantities, we were embarking on strange and uncharted seas. We manufactured almost everything else under the sun, but of the production of these toxic-gases we knew little save in theory, because virtually their only commercial value was in the making of certain dyes and chemicals, for which we had depended almost wholly on Germany. It was a new game which we had to learn—and to learn quickly. We found ourselves in the position of a baseball-player who is unexpectedly called upon to bowl in a game of cricket on which the championship depends. But when word went out from Washington that chemists were needed to beat the Germans at their own game, the masters of the retort and the test-tube left their classrooms and closed their laboratories and from every corner of the republic came flocking to the colors. I am using no mere figure of speech when I assert that the mammoth gas industry which was built up from nothing in less than a twelvemonth, knowledge of which was without question largely contributory to breaking down the German morale, was the work of American college professors. Some one, an Englishman, if I remember rightly, once referred to Germany as “the land of damned professors.” When their batteries and battalions were sent reeling back by American-made gas, the Germans must have felt like applying the same term to the United States.

Notwithstanding the remarkable standard of efficiency which it ultimately attained, the Chemical Warfare Service, or the Gas Service, as it was originally called, passed through a checkered and stormy formative period. By the close of 1917, when we had already been at war for nine months, there was hardly a branch of the American Army which did not have a finger in the affairs of gas warfare. The manufacture of masks was under the direction of the Medical Corps. Gas and shell production was in the hands of the Ordnance Department. Alarm devices were produced by the Signal Corps. The gas and flame troops formed the 30th Regiment of Engineers. Field-training was directed by the Sanitary Corps. Research work, an extremely important phase, was carried out by the Bureau of Mines, a branch of the Department of the Interior. And, to complete the decentralization, arrangements were being made to form a chemical service section of the National Army for the purpose of conducting gas operations overseas.

There is nothing to be gained by describing the long series of misunderstandings, controversies, and recriminations which constituted the history of gas warfare during the early months of 1918. It is not pleasant reading. It is enough to say that the demoralization resulting from this divided authority, taken in conjunction with the introduction by the Germans of mustard and other new gases, and the difficulty which the English were experiencing in obtaining a sufficient supply of chlorine, brought about a situation which caused grave alarm to all who were familiar with the situation in Europe. The two chief obstacles in the way of a complete reorganization of the service were the Ordnance Department, the chief of which was unwilling to permit all of the gas activities of Ordnance to be controlled by an external authority, and the Bureau of Mines, which refused to permit its chemists and its organization to be absorbed by the War Department. Though at that time it was impossible to modify the attitude of the Bureau of Mines in regard to its control of research, the Chief of Ordnance did his best to improve conditions within his own department by placing Colonel William H. Walker, assistant director of the Gas Service and former professor of chemical engineering at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, in complete control of gas production, including the operation of the great plant at Edgewood, the branch factories throughout the country, and the experimental field at Lakehurst, New Jersey. The manner in which this college professor brought order out of chaos at Edgewood and its related plants, directed the activities of 7,000 soldiers and 8,000 civilian workmen, settled labor troubles, obtained material, completed and put into operation the largest toxic-gas plant in existence, and, by his insistence on manufacturing at Edgewood all types of gases, including a large proportion of the basic chlorine, made the government independent of manufacturers and contractors, was one of the most remarkable accomplishments of the war.

In May, 1918, Major-General William L. Sibert, Corps of Engineers, who had commanded the First Division in France, was appointed by the President as director of the Gas Service for the express purpose of reorganizing that service and placing it on a footing commensurate with the importance it was now realized to have. General Sibert promptly took the position that, if he was to assume this responsibility, there could be no further divided control; all gas production and all research work must be in his hands. Ensued then lengthy discussions between the War Department and the Department of the Interior, enlivened by newspaper articles and speeches in Congress, as to whether the research chemists of the Bureau of Mines should pass under military control, but General Sibert’s attitude remained unshaken and, on July 13, 1918, all branches of the work connected with gas warfare were placed under his control as chief of the Chemical Warfare Service, henceforward a complete and separate branch of the army.

When the United States entered the war, none of the toxic-gases used by the warring nations, with the exception of chlorine, had been prepared in this country except on a very small scale and as laboratory experiments. The War Department was faced, therefore, with the immediate problem, not only of developing methods for the manufacture of these gases on a large scale, but also of putting these methods into execution. Gases, the preparation of which even in very small quantities was prohibited in many laboratories on account of their highly dangerous character and which, for the same reason, the Railroad Administration refused to transport except by special trains, were now to be produced by the thousands of tons. But how? There was no suitable machinery for the purpose to be had in the United States; everything must be designed and built to order. And where were the thousands of workmen who would be required to come from? Why should a man exchange the safety of a shipyard, where he was getting undreamed-of wages, for the perils of making poison-gas? It was indeed a stupendous problem which the government was facing. Yet there was no time to mull the question over, as a judge mulls over a point of law, for every day brought word of an increasing use of gas by the Germans.

It was the original intention to interest existing chemical firms in the manufacture of the required gases, with the hope of obtaining from them the entire supply required. As the project developed, however, difficulties arose which prevented the carrying out of this programme. The director-general of railroads ruled, as I have just said, that the gases could only be transported by special train movement, and this would entail great difficulty, delay, and expense. More serious objections were encountered, however, in the efforts to enlist the co-operation of the chemical manufacturers. The methods for the production of toxic-gases on a large scale were quite unknown, the manufacturers explained, and to discover and develop satisfactory processes would necessarily require extended investigations. The companies also realized that there would be great danger to the lives of those employed in the work, that fatalities were almost certain to result, and they were unwilling to run the risk of the interminable lawsuits which are usually incidental to the settlement of such cases. Moreover, only a limited number of firms had the personnel and the experience necessary to undertake the difficult problems involved, and these firms were already crowded with war work and were unwilling to assume additional responsibility, particularly of such a character. And, finally, it was recognized that the manufacture of toxic-gases would be limited to the duration of the war, and that the processes involved, as well as the plants necessary for carrying out these processes, would have little value after the war was over.

Meanwhile the Ordnance Department had approved of a plan to utilize a portion of a tract comprising 35,000 acres, near Aberdeen, Maryland, on Chesapeake Bay, which had just been acquired by the government for a proving-ground, for erecting a suitable plant for filling shell with poison-gas—though at that time it had not been determined where the gas itself was to come from. As soon as it became evident that the necessary quantities of gas could not be obtained from private firms, the War Department decided to erect and operate its own gas-plants on a peninsula of the Aberdeen Reservation, known as Gunpowder Neck. This peninsula, consisting of about 3,500 acres, which was admirably suited for the purpose by reason of its remoteness from centres of population, its security, and its facilities for rail and water transportation, was named Edgewood Arsenal.

Only those who saw the low-lying, swamp-lined shores of Gunpowder Neck during the winter and spring of 1917-1918 can fully picture the obstacles with which our gas-makers were confronted. Have you ever seen a Virginia road after the spring rains? Yes? Imagine, then, this Virginian clay mixed with Mexican adobe and diluted with New Orleans molasses and you will have a slight idea of the nature of the soil over which enormous quantities of material had to be hauled and on which was erected the greatest manufactory of poison-gas in the world. It may be recalled, moreover, that the winter of 1917-1918 was the severest in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. For weeks on end the shores of the Chesapeake resembled the shores of Greenland, but, in spite of cold and mud and rain, in spite of apparently insurmountable difficulties in obtaining building materials and in securing transportation for those materials on the congested railways, in spite of strikes and labor troubles of every kind, the work forged steadily ahead, officers and men working themselves as a negro teamster works his mules. Scores of miles of roads were built and metalled, a network of railways was laid down, and over them snorted panting locomotives hauling endless caravans of freight-cars. The building sites were illuminated by hundreds of arc-lights, the working force was divided into shifts, and the reservation resounded both night and day to the creak of derricks, the clatter of riveters, and the rasp of saws. A total of 558 buildings were constructed on the grounds of the arsenal, including, in addition to the huge structures of steel and concrete which comprised the filling and the various chemical plants, 36 cantonments with quarters for 8,400 men, 3 field-hospitals, a base hospital with more than 400 beds, bunk-houses for civilian workmen, officers’ barracks, Y. M. C. A. and Knights of Columbus huts, and one of the most completely equipped laboratories in the country. Edgewood is, in reality, a collection of great manufacturing plants, with all that implies in housing, sanitation, heating, storage, hospitalization, and other agencies. And the work was done by men every one of whom, from the commanding officer down, was in civil life when the war began. Not a single officer or man of the Regular Army had any responsibility for the construction or operation of Edgewood Arsenal from the day that the ex-professor of chemistry, Colonel Walker, assumed command, until its operations were terminated by the Armistice.

Any one who has had practical experience in manufacturing well knows that it is usually a long step from laboratory experimentation to factory production, a step which it often takes months and sometimes years to make and which is frequently beset with all manner of difficulties and problems. But there was no such time at the disposal of the Edgewood gas-makers. In all their experiments they were never permitted to slack up on production. The need was too vital. Our armies in France were clamoring for gas, gas, gas. There were no existing models for much of the machinery needed, but the corps of brilliant young men with whom Colonel Walker had surrounded himself invented as they went along. Yet, as a result of the experiments at Edgewood, numerous new and more economical processes were discovered. The slow and dangerous water-cooling method of producing phosgene, as followed in Europe, was supplanted by an entirely new system and a plant was perfected which could turn out forty tons of this gas every twenty-four hours. When the Edgewood plant was put into operation the government was paying one dollar and fifty cents a pound for phosgene, but when the Armistice was signed we were manufacturing it at the theretofore unheard-of price of ten cents per pound and would have brought it to an even lower figure had the production been continued. The systems devised for filling, painting, and marking the shell were marvels of mechanical ingenuity. These discoveries were not intended for commerce. They were the result of patriotic effort on the part of the workmen to see the nation excel in the particular thing in which it was then engaged—war. They were the outgrowth of impatience over slow and dangerous methods, or a desire to do the work in hand a little better or a little more quickly than it had been done before—a quality inherent in the American character.

It is a remarkable commentary on the efficiency of the Edgewood organization that notwithstanding the fact that the manufacture of poison-gases in quantity was a new industry in the United States, that the machinery was improvised or designed from the ground up, that the workmen were without previous experience—many of the drafted men, mind you, were fresh from offices, stores, and farms—and that they were engaged in a peculiarly hazardous occupation, only four fatalities were directly traceable to poisoning by gas. This should not be construed as minimizing the peril attached to the work, however, for, though every possible precaution was observed in the construction and operation of the plants, there were 925 casualties between June and December, 1918, of which 674 were due to mustard-gas. During the month of August, when the gases were most volatile as a result of the excessive heat (during that month the mercury stood at 106 degrees for three days in succession), and when the weather caused the soldiers to somewhat relax their precautions, the hospitals were on several days filled at the rate of 3½ per cent of the entire force of the mustard-gas plant, though this rate of casualties was not maintained, of course, throughout the entire month. I might add that several of the divisions which took part in the St. Mihiel offensive sustained a considerably smaller percentage of losses, which shows that the dangers of the war were not entirely monopolized by the men who served in France.

Long before the chemical plants were completed it became evident that civilian labor could not be utilized in their operation. Not only was such labor difficult to obtain, but the wages were abnormally high, the work was, as a whole, extremely inefficient, and it was virtually impossible to maintain the discipline and secrecy imperative to the success of the undertaking. Moreover, it was found that such civilian labor as was available could not be depended upon to work in the chemical plants because of the danger attending the manufacture of such highly poisonous materials. It was decided, therefore, to utilize enlisted men. As the project progressed, increasing numbers of soldiers from the National Army were detailed to the arsenal, the force reaching a strength of 7,400 at one time. The soldiers, no matter how much they disliked the work, could not quit like the civilian laborers; they had no option but to obey orders, and so, morning after morning, they rose at the summons of the bugles in the dim light of early dawn, hurried through their breakfasts at the long tables in the mess-halls, and marched to their respective tasks, whether making chlorine, chlorpicrin, phosgene, or mustard gas, filling or painting shell, working in the great refrigerating-plants through which the shell were passed to be chilled before filling, loading trains and boats, building roads, digging ditches, or firing boilers—all for thirty dollars a month. To the men who wore the blue-and-yellow hat-cords of the Chemical Warfare Service, the men who performed their dangerous work without advertisement and without public recognition, is due the gratitude of the nation.

The chief activities of the great arsenal on the Chesapeake consisted, as I believe I have already mentioned, of the manufacture of four types of toxic-gas—chlorine, chlorpicrin, phosgene, and mustard—and the filling of shell with these gases. Now I have not the slightest intention of entering upon a technical account of the complicated processes by which these gases were produced. Though no doubt interesting to chemists, it would make dry reading for others. It will suffice for the purposes of this book to sketch in briefest outline, and in simple words, the chief characteristics of the principal toxic-gases and the methods followed in their manufacture.

Chlorine, which is the first gas the Germans used and which is an important constituent of nearly all the other toxic-gases, is derived from ordinary table-salt. It is prepared by passing a current of electricity through a solution of salt, by which process chlorine is liberated and caustic soda formed. At ordinary temperatures chlorine is a greenish-yellow gas of strong, suffocating odor, but by means of cold and pressure it can be readily condensed to a liquid and is usually shipped in that form, stored in strong cylinders. The apparatus in which the salt is decomposed by the electric current is known as a cell. The salt, upon arrival at the arsenal, was taken to the brine building and dumped into large concrete tanks kept partially filled with water, the resulting brine being drawn off, purified, and pumped to the cell-house as needed. The interior of this building was filled with cells, nearly 4,000 in all, through which was passed a direct current of approximately 260 volts. The chlorine thus extracted from the brine was liquefied by compressing it through the agency of a falling column of sulphuric acid and then cooling the compressed gas by refrigeration. Though chlorine has long been manufactured in the United States for chemical purposes, a constant supply of it was so essential for the preparation of the other gases that Colonel Walker insisted that it should be produced at Edgewood, thus making the government independent of private manufacturers.

Chlorpicrin, while not so poisonous as some of the other gases, is, nevertheless, an active poison and has, in addition, pronounced lachrymal (tear-producing) and nauseating qualities. Though chlorpicrin is fatal when taken in large quantities, it is almost impossible to inhale much of it because of its terribly nauseating effect. The inhalation of four cubic inches of it causes violent vomiting. Chlorpicrin is produced by the action of picric acid upon chlorine in the form of bleaching-powder. The bleaching-powder, after being diluted with water to the consistency of thick cream, is mixed with a solution of calcium picrate in large stills holding 5,000 or more gallons. A jet of live steam is introduced at the bottom of the still and the reaction begins at once, the resulting chlorpicrin passing out of the still into condensers. This mixture of chlorpicrin and water is then run into tanks. As chlorpicrin does not dissolve in water, it gradually settles to the bottom and is drawn off and loaded directly into the shell.

Phosgene, the next member of the poison-gas family, is the deadliest of the lung-gases, killing almost as quickly as cyanogen. It is produced by the combination of two other gases, chlorine and carbon monoxide. The reaction is effected in iron boxes, lined with lead and filled with charcoal, into which a stream of chlorine and carbon monoxide, mixed in proper proportion, is introduced. The colorless gas which results is phosgene. It is condensed to a liquid by passing it through a condenser surrounded by brine kept cold by refrigeration and is then either stored in strong steel containers or run directly into the thirty-pound cylinders known as Livens’ drums. These drums are fired from a sort of mortar, called a projector, and are extremely effective for producing heavy concentrations of gas up to a range of 1,500 yards.

The compound commonly referred to in chemical warfare as “mustard-gas” is known to chemists as dichlorethylsulphide. Its nature is as formidable as its name. It has a distinctive smell, like garlic rather than mustard. It has no immediate effect on the eyes, beyond a slight irritation, but after several hours the eyes begin to swell and inflame and practically blister, causing the most intense pain; the nose discharges freely, and severe coughing and even vomiting ensue. Direct contact with the spray causes blistering of the skin so severe that it is virtually burned. Even when protected by masks and specially made clothing, it is impossible for troops to remain for more than eight hours in an area which has been bombarded with mustard-gas. Dichlorethylsulphide, to use its correct name, is produced by blowing ethylene-gas into liquid sulphur monochloride in large iron reaction vessels. Contrary to the popular impression, this gas contains no mustard. The details of devices and methods for introducing the ethylene and sulphur monochloride into the vessels, the removal of the product, the necessary agitation and cooling of the mass, and the like, were frequently changed during the development of the process and had not reached a final form even when the Armistice was signed. Nevertheless, when the war ended, Edgewood was producing 30 tons of mustard-gas a day and a rapid increase up to 100 tons daily was practically assured.

Though the Germans began their use of gas by releasing it from cylinders, depending upon the wind to carry it over the enemy’s lines, these “cloud attacks,” as they were called, did not prove satisfactory and were eventually discontinued, for great difficulty was experienced in getting the heavy cylinders up to the front and installing them in the trenches, and favorable winds could not be depended upon. It seems likely, indeed, that the Germans failed to recognize the significance of the meteorological records and charts of northern France, which show that 75 per cent of the prevailing winds are from a southerly or southeasterly direction, thus leaving the Germans only 25 per cent of the time in which they could use their gas without danger of its being blown back over their own lines. It was in order to overcome these meteorological conditions that the Germans evolved the idea of loading the gas into shell, usually in the form of liquid, which turned into gas when it came into contact with the air upon the explosion of the shell, and firing these shell from guns or mortars, thus enabling them to place the gas wherever they desired without reference to the weather. During the last two years of the war, barring a few isolated instances, gas was used in no other way.

The filling of shell was, therefore, one of the most important of Edgewood’s many activities. Let me explain to you, as simply and briefly as possible, how the shell were filled with phosgene.

The empty shell, after inspection, were loaded on trucks together with the required number of loaded boosters. (A booster, it should be explained, is the cap or stopper containing a charge of high explosive, usually TNT or dynamite, which is screwed on the nose of the shell after it has been filled with gas, much as a metal top is screwed onto a bottle. Just before firing, a fuse is inserted in the booster, igniting the explosive, which in turn shatters the shell, thus releasing the gas.) The trucks with the empty shell were then run by electric locomotives to the filling buildings. Here the shell were transferred to a conveyer, a sort of moving platform, which slowly moved through a room kept cold by refrigeration. About thirty minutes was required for this operation, during which time the shell were cooled to a temperature of about zero. This chilling of the shell was made necessary because phosgene has a low boiling-point. It was imperative, therefore, that the temperature of the shell be kept considerably below the boiling-point of phosgene in order that the latter should remain in liquid form while the filling was taking place. The chilled shell were then transferred to trucks and hauled by motor through the filling-tunnel to the filling-machines. Here the phosgene, kept in liquid state by refrigeration, was run into the shell by automatic machines. The truck then carried the filled shell forward a few feet, at which point the boosters were screwed into the noses of the shell by hand. The final closing of the shell was then effected by motors operated by compressed air. The filled shell were next conveyed to the shell-dump, where they were classified and stored for twenty-four hours, nose down on skids, in order to test them for leaks. The following day the shell were again placed on conveyers which carried them through a painting-machine, where air-brushes gave them a coat of elephant gray and striped them with the distinctive bands of color which denoted the type of gas they contained. The methods followed in filling shell with chlorpicrin were similar to those for phosgene except that refrigeration was unnecessary. The peculiar properties of mustard-gas, however, required an entirely different filling system. Edgewood Arsenal also had separate plants for filling the stannic-chloride hand-grenades used for “mopping up” trenches; for filling both shell and grenades with white phosphorus for use in forming smoke-screens to conceal the movements of advancing troops, and for loading the incendiary drop-bombs used by the Air Service.

The various plants which I have just described by no means comprised the whole of Edgewood’s activities, however, for, in order to obtain a sufficient supply of bromine, certain compounds of which are excellent tear-producing materials, a series of brine-wells was sunk at Midland, Michigan; a plant for the production of another lachrymator, brombenzyl cyanide, was erected at Kingsport, Tennessee; and an establishment for the manufacture of diphenychlorarsine—an arsenical material used in gas warfare because it produces violent sneezing, thus causing the troops to remove their gas-masks and thereby exposing them to the effects of the toxic-gases used in combination with the arsenicals—was started at Croyland, Pennsylvania.

As a matter of fact, the great mother-plant on Chesapeake Bay had branches and ramifications of which the public had scarcely an inkling, so carefully were the details of our gas production guarded. I have already pointed out that it was the original intention to secure the entire supply of toxic materials from existing chemical plants, and that it was only after this plan was found to be unfeasible that the decision to build government plants was reached. This decision did not signify, however, that no such material would be obtained from existing firms. On the contrary, it was decided to utilize such firms whenever it was possible to secure their co-operation. But as the products desired had never been prepared on a commercial scale in this country, it was impossible to forecast with accuracy the cost of their manufacture. As a result, the co-operation of the existing chemical concerns could be secured only on the condition that the government would finance the work. These plants, therefore, though they continued to be operated by their owners, became in fact government plants, being financed by the government, representatives of the War Department being stationed at each establishment to supervise their administration and look after the government’s interests. At first they were under the direction of the trench warfare section of the Ordnance Department, but, under a later order, they were made a part of Edgewood Arsenal and placed under the administration of its commanding officer. The list of these outside plants, with their official designation and the product manufactured in each, is as follows:

Edgewood Arsenal, Niagara Falls Plant: Manufacture of phosgene.

Edgewood Arsenal, Midland (Mich.) Plant: Sinking of brine-wells for the purpose of securing adequate supplies of bromine.

Edgewood Arsenal, Buffalo Plant: Manufacture of mustard-gas.

Edgewood Arsenal, Bound Brook (N. J.) Plant: Manufacture of phosgene.

In addition to the above, the following outside plants were not only built (or were in process of construction at the date of the Armistice) but were operated as well by the government. Their location at points other than Edgewood was decided upon partly because of the fact that it was thought wise to have at least two plants for the manufacture of each important material located at different places, since an accident at one would in no way interfere with production at the other. These government-owned establishments were:

Edgewood Arsenal, Stamford (Conn.) Plant: Manufacture of chlorpicrin.

Edgewood Arsenal, Hastings (N. Y.) Plant: Manufacture of mustard-gas.

Edgewood Arsenal, Kingsport (Tenn.) Plant: Manufacture of brombenzyl cyanide.

Edgewood Arsenal, Croyland (Pa.) Plant: Manufacture of diphenychlorarsine.

In addition to these nine great outlying plants, with their thousands of workmen, there was the splendidly equipped Research Department at American University, on the outskirts of Washington; the Experimental Field and Proving-Ground near Lakehurst, New Jersey; and the Army Gas Schools at Camp Kendrick, New Jersey, and Camp A. A. Humphreys, Virginia.

The tract of land near Lakehurst taken over for experimental purposes was 5 miles long and 4 wide and had an area of nearly 14,000 acres. As the nearest habitation was 2½ miles away no difficulty was experienced in conducting the highly important experiments with the necessary secrecy. The camp included quarters for 50 officers and barracks for 800 men, a completely equipped chemical laboratory, the staff of which included expert glass-blowers who could make every kind of apparatus required, a meteorological station, commanded by a former official of the Government Weather Bureau, equipped with the latest apparatus necessary for making and recording meteorological observations, a mechanical shop containing lathes, drills, and tools for making repairs of every description, an ice-making plant, a post hospital, a goat hospital, a dog hospital, a dog kitchen, and enclosures for animals which had to be kept under observation for long periods. In order to determine the effects of the various gases on living subjects a large stock of animals—goats, dogs, cats, rats, mice, guinea-pigs, and monkeys—had to be kept constantly on hand. These animals were not obtainable in the necessary numbers without considerable difficulty, it being necessary, on one occasion, to send an officer to Mexico to purchase 1,500 Angora goats, experiments having shown that the goat possesses powers of resistance to gas which more nearly approximate those of a human being than does any other common animal. Representatives of these various animal types were placed in trenches modelled after those on the Western Front and bombarded with different forms of gas-shell, those which remained alive being subjected to close observation, sometimes for many days, by the experts of the Pathological and Physiological Department. A human note enters into this grim business of preparing for war in the fact that those animals, particularly the dogs, which survived such an experiment were not subjected to it again. I imagine, however, that the officials of the S. P. C. A. would have entered a vigorous protest had they been permitted to lift the veil of secrecy which for many months enveloped the operations of the Chemical Warfare Service at Lakehurst.

The new methods and devices in gas warfare which were developed by the great corps of scientists and laboratory experts attached to the American University Experiment Station were given practical trials at Lakehurst, where they were tested under conditions approximating as nearly as possible those of actual warfare. Here experiments were carried out to determine the value of gas-shells bursting in the air instead of by impact, the value of mixing toxic or lachrymatory gas with shrapnel, the value of 14-inch naval shell filled with a combination of high explosive and toxic substance, and the value of clouds of poison-smoke. Had the war continued, I imagine that the results of some of these experiments would have given the Germans the surprise of their lives.

Though the gas production of Edgewood Arsenal from August to November, 1918, increased from 450 to 675 tons a week, and though the filling-plant had a weekly capacity of nearly 1,000 tons, less than 100 tons of gas was actually filled into shell weekly. This unfortunate state of affairs was due to the failure of the Ordnance Department to supply enough, or nearly enough, shell and boosters to keep pace with the production of gas. In other words, there was far more gas than there were shell to put it in, and far more shell than there were boosters for them. During the early summer of 1918, large quantities of this surplus gas were shipped overseas and there loaded into shell, but later instructions were received to stop all shipments in bulk except a limited amount of chlorine. From that time on, the production of gas was limited by the number of shell and booster available, because it is impossible to store toxic-gases in any large quantities. In fact, at all times after the manufacture of poison-gases began in the United States, the supply of such materials was not only in excess of the supply of shell and booster, but the gas-plants could not be operated to their full capacity because there was no way of utilizing the maximum output.

Do you remember how often, during the months immediately following our entrance into the great conflict, one heard the assertion made that American inventive genius would eventually produce a weapon so dreadful, so potent, that it would end the war because flesh and blood would be unable to withstand it? It was asserted, with a wealth of circumstantial detail, that Mr. Edison had been locked up for weeks in his New Jersey laboratory perfecting a device for the wholesale slaughter of the Huns which would startle the world. But, as the war continued on its bloody course, the public faith in inventors gradually waned and the American people settled down to a realization that victory could be achieved only by man-power, munitions, and food. Yet the persons who talked so glibly of some startling discovery which would paralyze the efforts of the enemy and abruptly end the war little realized how near to the truth their imaginations led them—for the government actually had in its possession the secret of a weapon so terrible that, had it been used, it would probably have ended the war.

The story of how the secret came into the possession of the government is a curious one. Years ago a student of chemistry, then living in a foreign country, while carrying on a series of laboratory experiments, stumbled upon a chemical combination which almost cost him his life. It was a compound never before made, or, at least, never recorded. Later the chemist came to the United States, but it was not until he read of the use of toxic-gases by the Germans that he recalled his all but fatal experiment of many years before. He kept silence, however, until America’s entry into the war, when he imparted his formula to the government. The chemist’s assertions of what his compound could accomplish were at first received with considerable scepticism, but this scepticism abruptly disappeared when the reports from the Research Division of the Chemical Warfare Service at American University, where the formula was developed, were received. So appalling was its nature, indeed, that the War Department at first refused to permit the use of the weapon thus strangely placed in its hand on the ground that the nation using it would be guilty of inhumanity. But in July, 1918, following the wholesale use of mustard-gas against our troops by the Germans, the scruples of those in power disappeared and orders were given that quantity production of the new toxic material should immediately be begun.

This super-gas, as it has been termed, was known to the Chemical Warfare Service as G-34, though it was more commonly referred to as methyl, a name which was given it because it in no way suggested the true character of this newest and deadliest of poisons. It has also been dubbed “Lewisite” because it was developed from the original formula to a stage which made it practicable for military use by Professor W. Lee Lewis, chief of the Defense Department of the Research Division of the Chemical Warfare Service. Methyl, or Lewisite, is an oily, amber-colored liquid, with an odor which vaguely suggests that of the geranium. It is somewhat more volatile than mustard-gas, being comparable in that respect to benzol. Instead of being inoffensive at first contact, like mustard, it starts an acute pain which quickly becomes unendurable. A single drop spilled on the hand will penetrate to the blood, attacking first the kidneys, then the heart and lungs. It hardens the cell-tissues of the lungs and causes simultaneously strangulation and a weakening of the heart which result in speedy and violent death. If taken into the lungs by inhalation in any perceptible quantity it kills almost instantly, the victim dying in terrible agony. It is estimated to be seventy-two times deadlier than mustard-gas.

The manufacture of methyl was carried on in an abandoned motor-car plant at Willoughby, Ohio, a suburb of Cleveland, the work being in charge of Colonel F. M. Dorsey, who, before the war, was a chemical engineer in the employ of the General Electric Company. Every step in the process of manufacture was enveloped in the most profound secrecy. Every workman who entered the stockade surrounding the plant did so under a voluntary agreement not to leave the eleven-acre space until the war was won, though this arrangement was later modified upon the men promising upon their honor not to divulge the nature of the product or even the existence of the plant. All mail was censored and even the use of the word Willoughby in correspondence was forbidden, letters for the officers and men connected with the plant being addressed to a lock-box in Cleveland. There was no recreation, the work was hard and danger was always present, the men working with their gas-masks constantly at the “alert” position. Though none of the masks designed for protection against chlorpicrin, phosgene, or mustard were of the slightest avail against methyl, the safety of the workers was ensured by specially designed masks and clothing. Had we used methyl against the Germans, however, it is extremely unlikely that they would have succeeded in devising a means of protection against it—at least in time to save themselves.

The methyl, as manufactured, was loaded into both shell and drums. The shell, of 155mm. calibre, contained about ten pounds of the liquid, which becomes a gas upon contact with the air; the drums, which held from 350 to 400 pounds each, were to be dropped from airplanes. It is estimated that half a hundred of these drums, judiciously distributed, would exterminate the entire population of Manhattan Island. When the Armistice was signed methyl was being produced at the rate of approximately ten tons a day and the plant at Willoughby was two months ahead of its schedule, orders having been given that 3,000 tons should be in France, ready for use, by March 1, 1919. It was well for Germany that she quit when she did. Had methyl been turned loose against the Huns, civilization would have had its revenge on the assassins of the Lusitania, on the fiends who ravaged France and raped Belgium.

Within forty-eight hours after the signing of the Armistice the work of dismantling the plant at Willoughby had begun, and ten weeks later its demolition was complete. A special train, running at night under heavy guard, carried the hundreds of tons of methyl which had already been produced, in iron containers, to Edgewood Arsenal, where it was transferred to a steamer, taken out to sea, and lowered into three miles of salt water. But the formulæ and processes for manufacture still exist, locked away in the great vaults of the War College in Washington, so, if the nation is ever again forced to take up arms, it has at hand the most terrible weapon ever devised for the purpose of wholesale slaughter.

Notwithstanding the fact that toxic-gases had been in almost constant use by the European belligerents for two years before the United States entered the conflict, the declaration of war found us totally unprepared to commence the manufacture of the gas-defense equipment with which every soldier going overseas must be provided. Such an article as a gas-mask had never been produced in this country, the sum total of American knowledge on the subject having been obtained from the masks brought back as souvenirs by war correspondents and displayed in shop-windows and from the pictures in the illustrated papers. Incredible as it may seem, in view of the enormously important rôle which gas was playing on the European battle-fields, only a single American army officer, Major L. P. Williamson of the Medical Corps, had studied the subject of gas defense, and he had done so on his own initiative. Thus it came about that within a few days after the declaration of war, the military authorities, confronted by the imperative necessity of providing our expeditionary forces with gas-defense equipment, were conducting a frantic search among the various scientific departments of the government to discover one possessing the necessary facilities for handling the problem. The Bureau of Chemistry did not have the personnel to carry on the work and the Department of Agriculture did not have the necessary apparatus, but the Bureau of Mines at Pittsburg possessed some experience in kindred problems arising from mine-rescue work, and it also had adequate facilities for handling the experimental work involved. It was, therefore, selected for the purpose. The research facilities at Pittsburg soon proved inadequate, however, and in the summer of 1917 there was taken over the American University Experiment Station, near Washington, where virtually all of the research work connected with the numerous branches of the Chemical Warfare Service was conducted. The Research Division, instead of being dismissed with passing mention, is deserving of a chapter to itself, the services which it performed in the development of gases, protective equipment, and manufacturing processes having been of enormous assistance in the prosecution of the war.

When, in May, 1917, the need arose for providing masks for the first contingent of the American Expeditionary Forces, the War Department appealed to the Bureau of Mines to provide 25,000 masks within three weeks. Emboldened by the valor of ignorance, the officials of the bureau jauntily undertook the task, making arrangements for the fabric to be produced by a rubber company at Akron, Ohio, and for the masks to be assembled at a factory in Brooklyn. Instead of producing 25,000 masks in three weeks, however, the best they could do was to produce 20,000 in two months. These were immediately shipped overseas. But the rubberized fabric of which they were made was easily penetrated by chlorpicrin vapor, therefore affording very little protection, and they were returned unused. “The only thing about them which is satisfactory,” General Pershing is said to have remarked, “is the strap around the neck.” But the experience thus gained opened the eyes of the authorities to the gravity of the problem, so that when, in July, 1917, the army itself took up the manufacture of gas-masks, it was with a more complete realization of the magnitude of the task by which it was confronted. One of the first steps taken by the War Department, upon assuming charge of mask production, was to give a colonel’s commission to Mr. Bradley Dewey, an officer of the American Can Company, and to place him in command of the Gas Defense Service, as it was then called, but which, upon the organization of the Chemical Warfare Service, became the Gas Defense Division. Thanks to the energy, resourcefulness, and business ability of Colonel Dewey, backed by the efficiency and enthusiasm of the great organization which he created, the American forces in France were protected against gas by masks which, as proved by actual field tests, gave twenty times the protection afforded by those worn by the Germans.