Sixty years ago, the British magazine Pracitcal Wireless, August 1955, carried the plans for this “sensitive two-valver” receiver suitable for local broadcast reception. It featured a regenerative detector and one stage of audio amplification sufficient to drive a speaker. It ran off the 230 volt AC mains, but employed a transformer to isolate the chassis. The article noted, however, that it could be used without the isolation transformer, but warned that if constructed without one, “the operator must stand on a dry board when touching metal parts of the live chassis.” The set was designed to be sensitive enough to be used with a short one-foot antenna. The article noted that neither of the alternatives, either “a few feet of wire hanging from the back” or a frame aerial, add to the decorative effects of a room.

The two tubes employed by the set were the EF50, which were probably available in large supply from surplus equipment. The tube, which has been called “the Tube that helped to Win the War,” was a major concern during the early days of the war. It was very versatile with uses in VHF and radar equipment. And it was manufactured by Philips in Holland, which was about to be overrun by the Nazis. Just before the invasion, the British managed to import a truckload of 25,000 of the tubes, along with more of the bases. Philips hurriedly dismantled its Dutch assembly line for transport to England. Members of the Philips family, along with members of the Government, escaped the day before Rotterdam was flattened aboard a British destroyer. They carried with them a wooden box containing the diamond dies that were required to make the tungsten wires inside the tubes.

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70 years ago today, August 1, 1945, five days before the bombing of Hiroshima, the United States dropped millions of copies of this leaflet on 35 Japanese cities, including Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The Japanese text on the reverse read as follows:

Read this carefully as it may save your life or the life of a relative or friend. In the next few days, some or all of the cities named on the reverse side will be destroyed by American bombs. These cities contain military installations and workshops or factories which produce military goods. We are determined to destroy all of the tools of the military clique which they are using to prolong this useless war. But, unfortunately, bombs have no eyes. So, in accordance with America’s humanitarian policies, the American Air Force, which does not wish to injure innocent people, now gives you warning to evacuate the cities named and save your lives. America is not fighting the Japanese people but is fighting the military clique which has enslaved the Japanese people. The peace which America will bring will free the people from the oppression of the military clique and mean the emergence of a new and better Japan. You can restore peace by demanding new and good leaders who will end the war. We cannot promise that only these cities will be among those attacked but some or all of them will be, so heed this warning and evacuate these cities immediately.

This warning had been preceded, starting on July 26, of transmission by by 50,000 watt KSAI Radio in Saipan the contents of the Potsdam declaration, warning the Japanese people of the “prompt and utter destruction” of Japan if the Japanese government failed to surrender.   KSAI’s medium wave signal (1010 on the standard broadcast dial) was as strong as any Japanese domestic station, and could be heard by millions of Japanese.

After the bombing of Hiroshima, an updated leaflet was prepared, stressing the special nature of the Hiroshima bomb, and warning of the same fate to other cities.  Similar warnings were transmitted by KSAI and repeated every fifteen minutes.

For more information on leafleting and other allied propaganda operations, see my earlier post.

References

• Hellegers, We, the Japanese People: World War II and the Origins of the Japanese Constitution.
• The Information War in the Pacific, 1945 at CIA website.

 

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Today marks the 70th anniversary of the greatest loss of life in American Naval history, the sinking of the U.S.S. Indianapolis on July 30, 1945. On July 16, the Indianapolis left San Francisco with the enriched uranium which would be used in the Hiroshima atomic bomb. She reached Pearl Harbor on July 19 and raced on to Tinian with the cargo, where she arrived on July 26. After delivering this top secret cargo, the ship continued to Guam and then Leyte, where the crew was to receive training.

Shortly after midnight on July 30, she was struck by two Japanese torpedoes, sinking in minutes. About 300 of the 1196 crewmen went down with the ship. The remainder were set adrift with few lifeboats and many without lifejackets.

Due to radio silence and general miscommunication, the ship was not missed when its scheduled arrival time passed. The 880 men drifted forgotten. Most perished from exposure and dehydration, although the attack is most famous for the sharks the men had to contend with. Undoubtedly, some of the men were killed by sharks, but it is more likely that most of the victims succomed to exposure and dehydation, with the dead being driven off by sharks.

The men were discovered by accident three and a half days later when Lt. Wilbur “Chuck” Gwinn and Lt. Warren Colwell spotted the men adrift during a routine patrol fight.

Only 317 men ultimately survived. Over 800 men lost their lives.

Ironically, the disaster was not reported by the newspapers until August 15.  The greatest naval disaster in American history was decidedly a less important news story that day, since the papers also reported Japan’s surrender and the end of the war.

Of interest to radio amateurs is the recreation of the ship’s radio installation (whose call letters were NABD) at the USS Indianapolis Memorial.

References

History at USSIndianapolis.org

 

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The cover of this wartime issue of Radio Craft magazine, May 1943, shows a radioman, as her designation is called, of the U.S. Coast Guard.  The accompanying article explained that she was a membe of SPARS,  the U.S. Coast Guard Women’s Reserve, which had just been created in November of 1942, and largely followed the Navy’s WAVES model of allowing women to serve in stateside positions. More than 11,000 women served in SPARS during the war.

The article explained that the women who would serve as radiomen underwent a sixteen-week training at the University of Wisconsin, which included Morse code, typing, and radio procedure and theory. At the conclusion of the training, the women would pass a code test at 22 words per minute, at which time they received a rating of Radioman 3rd Class.

 

 

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When I think of glamour, one of the first things to cross my mind would be a wooden five-tube broadcast/shorwave receiver, and in this 1940 advertisement, the Crosley Radio Corporation agrees with me. It is taken from the July 15, 1940, issue of Life Magazine.

According to the ad, certain cities such as Paris and Hollywood have Glamour. (Apparently even Nazi occupation can’t erase the glamour of the City of Lights.) Glamour can be found in certain ships and trains. And it can be found in certain people: Athletes, actors, statesmen, and musicians.

And there was glamour in the Glamour Tone of the Crosley Radio, “a new type of fidelity in sound.”

The glamorous object shown here is the Crosley model 18AN, a five-tube two-band AC-DC superheterodyne which retailed for $19.95 (slightly higher in the West and South). It featured a personal tone control and tuned both the standard broadcast band and shortwave for pulling in war news direct from Paris and other capitals of Europe.

Another nice example of this radio can be found at the Radio Attic Archives.

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75 years ago, 25-year-old Les Paul had his own radio station in the basement of his New York apartment building, as shown here in the July 1940 issue of Popular Science.  Paul had moved to New York in 1938, performing with Chet Atkins‘ older brother on Fred Waring and the Pennsylvanians radio program.

The building was equipped with an antenna and ground wire that had never been used, and Paul took advantage of it by installing his station’s studio in a soundproof room near the furnace.  A control room was located in his second-floor apartment.  On Friday and Sunday evenings, they transmitted to the other tenants in the building.  Occasionally, big-name guest musicians and announcers would drop by to take their turn at the mike.

The next year, Paul nearly electrocuted himself while experimenting in his apartment.  He relocated to California where he recuperated.  In 1943, he was drafted and served as a performer on the Armed Forces Radio Network.

 

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