pranks together, until they had been sobered by the boating accident that left Esau’s lip scarred. Later, despite his growing preoccupation with the National Socialist Party, Esau had arranged for Fox to complete his post-doctoral work in Göttingen under Sommerfeld himself.
After Fox’s post-doctoral study, the two friends had corresponded for years, exchanging results of their latest work. They shared the excitement of Dirac’s relativistic field theory, the discovery of spinor mathematics ... to them, physics was apolitical, a true bridge between cultures. Did an atomic nucleus care about inequities in the Treaty of Versailles? No matter what governments might squabble about, physics remained immutable. Fox admired that. Esau had always agreed with him.
And now, because of the war, his friendship with Esau had become illegal. Fox wanted to write his old companion, tell him that their communications must stop, but he had reluctantly adhered to the rules. Letters between himself and Esau had dwindled over the past few years, since Germany had declared war on the U.S. after the Pearl Harbor attack. But Fox’s friendship had never stopped, and he knew Esau must feel the same.
A colleague at William and Mary College had agreed to mail Fox’s letters to another colleague in Mexico, where in turn they would be sent to Norway, then forwarded to one of the occupied countries. A letter might take months to cover this circuitous route, but Fox and Esau kept their communication open.
And pointedly nonpolitical.
Fox’s leanings were certainly not toward Germany—but they did not rest blindly with the Allies either. He had heard much talk of a single world government lately. In Fox’s view, any one independent government was as bad as any other, especially if both used their weapons for mass destruction. Look at the horrible poison gas weapons used during the Great War. The great physicist Otto Hahn himself had created those weapons—was that a fitting purpose for such a man to apply his mind?
As a physicist, he believed the world could flourish without political meddling. Governments demanded too much. Physicists knew how to handle relations between countries. After all, new scientific ideas and discoveries had been exchanged freely for years. It seemed that only the bureaucrats, the militarists, and—worst of all—the bean counters, could not accept the laws of Nature for what they were.
No one government should have an upper hand, an ace in the hole it could use to dominate anyone else. It would be like two men standing in a room with loaded pistols aimed at each other. No sane person would pull the trigger, for fear that both might die. But if only one man held a gun, he might be tempted to take a preemptive action. He would feel superior, with nothing to worry about.... How could the U.S. be trusted with a doomsday weapon such as the atomic bomb, when no other country could?
Fox feared the pace the American program was setting. Did the Germans know that Enrico Fermi’s reactor, constructed in secret under the squash court at the University of Chicago, had achieved a self-sustaining nuclear reaction? It had never been done before, and marked a true milestone in the history of physics—but the results had remained a tight secret. Such breakthroughs were not to be kept under lock and key!
Fermi had used a common substance—graphite of all things!—as a moderator to slow the neutrons down in natural uranium, making it possible for them to split the uranium-235 isotope and create more neutrons to keep the reaction going. Some nuclei of the overwhelming majority of uranium-238 absorbed a neutron, thereby transmuting into a new element, one step higher in the periodic table.
Thanks to the efforts of Leo Szilard, and his constant harping for secrecy from the Germans, the news that would ordinarily be reported in Physical Review now was shared among only a few scientists whose political views were considered