Creative Chemistry: Descriptive of Recent Achievements in the Chemical Industries

by Edwin E. Slosson

The smaller the matter that man can deal with the more he can get out of it. So long as man was dependent for power upon wind and water his working capacity was very limited. But as soon as he passed over the border line from physics into chemistry and learned how to use the molecule, his efficiency in work and warfare was multiplied manifold. The molecular bombardment of the piston by steam or the gases of combustion runs his engines and propels his cars. The first man who wanted to kill another from a safe distance threw the stone by his arm's strength. David added to his arm the centrifugal force of a sling when he slew Goliath. The Romans improved on this by concentrating in a catapult the strength of a score of slaves and casting stone cannon balls to the top of the city wall. But finally man got closer to nature's secret and discovered that by loosing a swarm of gaseous molecules he could throw his projectile seventy-five miles and then by the same force burst it into flying fragments. There is no smaller projectile than the atom unless our belligerent chemists can find a way of using the electron stream of the cathode ray. But this so far has figured only in the pages of our scientific romancers and has not yet appeared on the battlefield. If, however, man could tap the reservoir of sub-atomic energy he need do no more work and would make no more war, for unlimited powers of construction and destruction would be at his command. The forces of the infinitesimal are infinite.

The reason why a gas is so active is because it is so egoistic. Psychologically interpreted, a gas consists of particles having the utmost aversion to one another. Each tries to get as far away from every other as it can. There is no cohesive force; no attractive impulse; nothing to draw them together except the all too feeble power of gravitation. The hotter they get the more they try to disperse and so the gas expands. The gas represents the extreme of individualism as steel represents the extreme of collectivism. The combination of the two works wonders. A hot gas in a steel cylinder is the most powerful agency known to man, and by means of it he accomplishes his greatest achievements in peace or war time.

The projectile is thrown from the gun by the expansive force of the gases released from the powder and when it reaches its destination it is blown to pieces by the same force. This is the end of it if it is a shell of the old-fashioned sort, for the gases of combustion mingle harmlessly with the air of which they are normal constituents. But if it is a poison gas shell each molecule as it is released goes off straight into the air with a speed twice that of the cannon ball and carries death with it. A man may be hit by a heavy piece of lead or iron and still survive, but an unweighable amount of lethal gas may be fatal to him.

Most of the novelties of the war were merely extensions of what was already known. To increase the caliber of a cannon from 38 to 42 centimeters or its range from 30 to 75 miles does indeed make necessary a decided change in tactics, but it is not comparable to the revolution effected by the introduction of new weapons of unprecedented power such as airplanes, submarines, tanks, high explosives or poison gas. If any army had been as well equipped with these in the beginning as all armies were at the end it might easily have won the war. That is to say, if the general staff of any of the powers had had the foresight and confidence to develop and practise these modes of warfare on a large scale in advance it would have been irresistible against an enemy unprepared to meet them. But no military genius appeared on either side with sufficient courage and imagination to work out such schemes in secret before trying them out on a small scale in the open. Consequently the enemy had fair warning and ample time to learn how to meet them and methods of defense developed concurrently with methods of attack. For instance, consider the motor fortresses to which Ludendorff ascribes his defeat. The British first sent out a few clumsy tanks against the German lines. Then they set about making a lot of stronger and livelier ones, but by the time these were ready the Germans had field guns to smash them and chain fences with concrete posts to stop them. On the other hand, if the Germans had followed up their advantage when they first set the cloud of chlorine floating over the battlefield of Ypres they might have won the war in the spring of 1915 instead of losing it in the fall of 1918. For the British were unprepared and unprotected against the silent death that swept down upon them on the 22nd of April, 1915. What happened then is best told by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in his "History of the Great War."

From the base of the German trenches over a considerable length there appeared jets of whitish vapor, which gathered and swirled until they settled into a definite low cloud-bank, greenish-brown below and yellow above, where it reflected the rays of the sinking sun. This ominous bank of vapor, impelled by a northern breeze, drifted swiftly across the space which separated the two lines. The French troops, staring over the top of their parapet at this curious screen which ensured them a temporary relief from fire, were observed suddenly to throw up their hands, to clutch at their throats, and to fall to the ground in the agonies of asphyxiation. Many lay where they had fallen, while their comrades, absolutely helpless against this diabolical agency, rushed madly out of the mephitic mist and made for the rear, over-running the lines of trenches behind them. Many of them never halted until they had reached Ypres, while others rushed westwards and put the canal between themselves and the enemy. The Germans, meanwhile, advanced, and took possession of the successive lines of trenches, tenanted only by the dead garrisons, whose blackened faces, contorted figures, and lips fringed with the blood and foam from their bursting lungs, showed the agonies in which they had died. Some thousands of stupefied prisoners, eight batteries of French field-guns, and four British 4.7's, which had been placed in a wood behind the French position, were the trophies won by this disgraceful victory.

Under the shattering blow which they had received, a blow particularly demoralizing to African troops, with their fears of magic and the unknown, it was impossible to rally them effectually until the next day. It is to be remembered in explanation of this disorganization that it was the first experience of these poison tactics, and that the troops engaged received the gas in a very much more severe form than our own men on the right of Langemarck. For a time there was a gap five miles broad in the front of the position of the Allies, and there were many hours during which there was no substantial force between the Germans and Ypres. They wasted their time, however, in consolidating their ground, and the chance of a great coup passed forever. They had sold their souls as soldiers, but the Devil's price was a poor one. Had they had a corps of cavalry ready, and pushed them through the gap, it would have been the most dangerous moment of the war.

A deserter had come over from the German side a week before and told them that cylinders of poison gas had been laid in the front trenches, but no one believed him or paid any attention to his tale. War was then, in the Englishman's opinion, a gentleman's game, the royal sport, and poison was prohibited by the Hague rules. But the Germans were not playing the game according to the rules, so the British soldiers were strangled in their own trenches and fell easy victims to the advancing foe. Within half an hour after the gas was turned on 80 per cent. of the opposing troops were knocked out. The Canadians, with wet handkerchiefs over their faces, closed in to stop the gap, but if the Germans had been prepared for such success they could have cleared the way to the coast. But after such trials the Germans stopped the use of free chlorine and began the preparation of more poisonous gases. In some way that may not be revealed till the secret history of the war is published, the British Intelligence Department obtained a copy of the lecture notes of the instructions to the German staff giving details of the new system of gas warfare to be started in December. Among the compounds named was phosgene, a gas so lethal that one part in ten thousand of air may be fatal. The antidote for it is hexamethylene tetramine. This is not something the soldier—or anybody else—is accustomed to carry around with him, but the British having had a chance to cram up in advance on the stolen lecture notes were ready with gas helmets soaked in the reagent with the long name.

The Germans rejoiced when gas bombs took the place of bayonets because this was a field in which intelligence counted for more than brute force and in which therefore they expected to be supreme. As usual they were right in their major premise but wrong in their conclusion, owing to the egoism of their implicit minor premise. It does indeed give the advantage to skill and science, but the Germans were beaten at their own game, for by the end of the war the United States was able to turn out toxic gases at a rate of 200 tons a day, while the output of Germany or England was only about 30 tons. A gas plant was started at Edgewood, Maryland, in November, 1917. By March it was filling shell and before the war put a stop to its activities in the fall it was producing 1,300,000 pounds of chlorine, 1,000,000 pounds of chlorpicrin, 1,300,000 pounds of phosgene and 700,000 pounds of mustard gas a month.

Chlorine, the first gas used, is unpleasantly familiar to every one who has entered a chemical laboratory or who has smelled the breath of bleaching powder. It is a greenish-yellow gas made from common salt. The Germans employed it at Ypres by laying cylinders of the liquefied gas in the trenches, about a yard apart, and running a lead discharge pipe over the parapet. When the stop cocks are turned the gas streams out and since it is two and a half times as heavy as air it rolls over the ground like a noisome mist. It works best when the ground slopes gently down toward the enemy and when the wind blows in that direction at a rate between four and twelve miles an hour. But the wind, being strictly neutral, may change its direction without warning and then the gases turn back in their flight and attack their own side, something that rifle bullets have never been known to do.