In 1942, while most people were thinking about
tanks and torpedoes, Lytle S. Adams, a Pennsylvania dentist, was thinking about
bats.
He’d just visited Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico
and watched millions of Mexican free-tailed bats explode out of the cave like a
living thundercloud. Instead of admiring nature, he saw an opportunity.
What if each of those tiny flying mammals carried
a small incendiary charge?
He wrote to President Franklin D. Roosevelt. And
here’s the strange part — Roosevelt didn’t toss the letter in the trash. He
reportedly called the idea “perfectly wild,” which in wartime apparently meant,
“Let’s try it.”
The plan became Project X-ray.
Thousands of bats would be collected, chilled into
hibernation, and packed into special bomb casings. Planes would drop the
canisters over Japanese cities. A parachute would open midair. The bats would
wake up, flutter into attics and rafters — and then, minutes later…
Fire.
Tests took place at Carlsbad Army Airfield and
later at Dugway Proving Ground in Utah. During one test, a few armed bats
escaped early and did what bats do best: hide in buildings. Soon, parts of the
base were on fire.
The bats, it turned out, were extremely committed
to the assignment.
The project advanced far enough to receive funding
and serious military attention. But it was canceled in 1944.
Not because it was ridiculous, but t because
something bigger was in the works.
The Manhattan Project.
History nearly gave us weaponized Dracula.
Instead, it gave us the atomic bomb.
Somehow, that feels even stranger.
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