Amidst the fright of the frigid Atlantic Ocean on an April night in 1912,
the "unsinkable" RMS Titanic, sulked quietly towards its demise. The passengers
and crew were blissfully unaware of their fate. The opulent behemoth,
lauded as a testament to human ingenuity, was on a collision course with its nemesis:
a gargantuan iceberg that would shatter its hull and cast it into the annals of history.
But what if I told you that during World War II the British tried to build a ship
that would be unsinkable, not because of its ability to withstand icebergs,
but because it was made from an iceberg? How do you build a ship from an iceberg? Well,
you’re about to find out and trust me, this story is even crazier than you’re expecting.
Speaking of crazy - it was once said that only a crazy man can create crazy ideas - and that
“once” was just now, by me. And the inventor of the iceberg ship was just the right mix
of crazy and genius. Geoffrey Pyke was born in London in 1893 and he faced adversity early on,
losing both his parents by the age of 10. Taken in by a wealthy uncle who ensured
his innate genius was not stifled. Pyke went on to study at Cambridge University,
only to leave when the First World War broke out.
Working as a journalist, Pyke infiltrated Germany to gather intelligence but was
captured and imprisoned in the Ruhleben POW camp. However, he managed a daring escape,
after months of prep. Just like in a cheesy spy film Pyke used the reflection of the sun to blind
a patrolling guard as he sneaked past, then he scaled the perimeter fence and bolted. After
which, he squirrelled his way back to England where he resumed his inventive endeavours.
Between the World Wars, Pyke put his ponderous mind to various
money-making schemes. Mostly involving speculating on the commodities market.
He also heavily campaigned against the rise of antisemitism in Nazi Germany.
But his curious nature wouldn’t be fully satisfied until World War II broke out.
After the invasion of Norway in 1940 Pyke thought it pertinent to ponder the problem of ice.
Specifically - 70 percent of Europe lay under snow for five months of the year. Yet the Allies had no
suitable military vehicle for this. Tanks were sluggish in the snow and slippery on ice. And so
Project Plough was born. It sounds like something you tried to erase from your search history but in
fact it went something like this: Pyke proposed a fleet of screw-propelled vehicles be built. Small,
highly-mobile personnel carriers with a pair of lightweight screw-like cylinders instead
of tracks of wheels. The cylinders would turn in opposite directions, propelling
the vehicle forward much more effectively on snow and ice than existing vehicles.
Project Plough would utilise these novel vehicles to send out small special-force-esque units,
deep into enemy territories during the winter to sabotage infrastructure. Blow up a bridge or two,
tinker with train tracks, that sort of thing. When Project Plough was first presented to
Winston Churchill he noted “never in the history of human conflict will so
few immobilise so many.” Unfortunately Pyke’s Ploughs would never Plough since the project
was superseded by the development of the Weasel personnel carrier by the Canadians.
In 1942, however, Pyke turned his attention to solving a different cold-weather problem -
preventing the icing of ships in the Arctic. This is when ice builds up on the hull, which can cause
it to capsize. Pyke’s solution was rather obvious - why not just build the entire ship out of ice
in the first place? Pyke pitched the concept to the British government, grabbing the attention of
Winston Churchill and Lord Louis Mountbatten, head of the special projects group. Rather
than scoff at his madness, they both thought, if properly implemented, it could be game-changing.
“Game-changing,” you say - but why did the game need to be changed at
all? What was so wrong with the British Navy’s tried-and-tested steel ships?
Well, in the early 40s, the Allies were in a tight spot. The Atlantic Ocean had
become a fierce battleground, with German U-boats wreaking havoc on supply lines,
sinking merchant ships, and disrupting the flow of essential resources. The Allies
needed a way to safeguard their convoys from the unyielding U-boat assaults.
The obvious defensive weapon, aircraft carriers, were pricey and scarcely available. Building these
required a substantial amount of steel – a resource already stretched thin due to
the colossal war effort. Steel production also demanded considerable energy, labour, and time –
all of which were in short supply during the war. The Admiralty were craving a more efficient and
economical solution, and that's when Geoffrey Pyke's eccentric idea started gaining ground.
Hence Pyke’s so-called “Project Habakkuk” was born, an audacious plan to create a
floating iceberg fortress that would serve as an unsinkable aircraft carrier. It was named after
prophet Habakkuk, from the Old Testament, who wrote “Look over the nations and see,
and be utterly amazed. For a work is being done in your days that you would not have believed,
were it told.” Yeah - I would say a ship made of ice would fit that description nicely. Pyke
imagined this mammoth structure as a safe refuge for merchant ships and a launchpad for aircraft,
helping to tip the scales of the Battle of the Atlantic in the Allies' favour.
The stakes were incredibly high. As the research and development of an ice ship advanced,
the war effort continued to confront immense challenges. Time was crucial, and every day that
passed without a solution meant more lives lost and resources wasted. The pressure on Pyke and
his team was massive, as their daring idea had the potential to alter the entire course of the war.
On the face of it, Pyke’s proposition seemed preposterous - but it certainly had its
benefits. Ice costs only 1% of the price of steel to manufacture. And maybe they didn’t even need to
do that, after all, there were plenty of icebergs merrily floating around, why not just use them?
And, at first, that’s precisely what they planned to do. Pyke envisioned finding a massive iceberg,
flattening the top to create a landing strip and hollowing out the interior to create a space for
housing aircraft and crew members. Trouble is, there were two iceberg-sized issues with this
plan. Firstly, ask Olaf what frozen things do in summer - yeah, you know the answer. Secondly,
most icebergs have an unstable mass distribution, which makes them prone to tipping over. You can
imagine the Nazi commanders putting their fingers together and doing a good-old evil-villain-style
laugh when the brand-new British flagship suddenly does a 180 in the heat of battle.
To tackle these obstacles, Pyke and his squad had to concoct an innovative solution that
would preserve ice's desirable qualities while eliminating its innate weaknesses. Enter Pykrete,
the extraordinary material that resulted from their creative efforts. I do wonder
where Mr Pyke got the name Pykrete from… I guess we’ll never know. This
new material was a composite consisting of 86% water and 14% sawdust or wood pulp. This
unassuming mixture of ingredients may not sound particularly revolutionary,
but its properties left researchers and military personnel alike in awe.
Upon its discovery Pyke was desperate to show it off to Churchill, so he barged
into the wartime leader’s bathroom and lobbed a block of Pykrete into his steaming hot bathtub,
whilst Churchill was in it. Showcasing Pykrete’s slow melting rate and buoyancy.
One of Pykrete's most captivating characteristics is its exceptional
strength. Compared to regular ice, Pykrete is far more robust and shatter-resistant.
It can even endure bullets and, to some extent, the explosive force of grenades.
This resilience stems from the sawdust fibres that create a web-like structure,
reinforcing the ice and rendering it significantly tougher and less fragile.
However, Pykrete's true magic lies in its resistance to melting. Regular ice,
when exposed to heat, melts relatively quickly. Pykrete, on the other hand,
can withstand much higher temperatures before dissolving into a puddle,
thanks to its unique composition. The sawdust serves as an insulator, decelerating the melting
process. Which was important if constructing a ship intended for lengthy deployments.
To showcase Pykrete's impressive properties,
Geoffrey Pyke and his team carried out a series of unconventional tests. In one such experiment,
Pyke presented British Prime Minister Winston Churchill with a block of Pykrete and a piece
of regular ice. When Churchill shot at the ice with a revolver, it splintered into fragments.
In contrast, when he shot the Pykrete the bullet ricocheted off, leaving it relatively unharmed.
Toiling nonstop in a hidden lab nestled within the Canadian Rockies, the team experimented
with various ice and sawdust concoctions to create the perfect Pykrete blend. They
also faced the daunting task of devising the novel engineering solutions needed to
build and maintain such a massive vessel, all while keeping their work cloaked in secrecy.
Amidst the echoing chambers of their clandestine workshop,
the air was thick with anticipation and the scent of sawdust. Pyke's
vision was slowly materialising into a tangible, albeit unconventional,
marvel of wartime innovation. But to turn this dream into a reality, the team had to scale their
experiments beyond small blocks of Pykrete to something that resembled an actual ship.
So, the team constructed a prototype. This smaller-scale model, known as "Habakkuk
II," served as a proof of concept for the feasibility of a full-sized Pykrete ship.
Engineers and scientists worked hand in hand, pouring thousands of tonnes
of Pykrete into moulds to create the ship's hull and structure. The
process was labour-intensive and fraught with challenges, from ensuring the uniformity of
the Pykrete mixture to developing innovative cooling systems that would prevent the ship
from melting. The ship was designed to be virtually unsinkable, with a hull so
thick that it could withstand direct hits from torpedoes without sustaining critical damage.
Set afloat upon a secluded lake in Alberta, Canada, Habakkuk II seemed to be a success.
It showcased the material's durability and viability as a floating airbase,
and it stayed frozen, even in warmer weather conditions.
All this sounds amazing - so what happened? If it’s so wonderful, why haven’t most people heard
of Pykrete and, the prototype aside, did we ever build any ships from it?
Well, sadly not. The small prototype highlighted a fatal flaw - building a full-size Pykrete
ship (remember it was envisioned to be a staggering 1,200 metres long when complete)
would have required the invention of new machinery and construction processes which would be hugely
time consuming and costly. The addition of sawdust slowed the melting rate of ice considerably but
some sort of whole-ship refrigeration system would still have to be invented and implemented
to stop the shiny new flagship of the Royal Navy from turning into slush in warmer climates.
When the maths was done it was discovered that building just one Pykrete ship would
have cost more money than a whole fleet of conventional aircraft carriers.
Also, at this later stage in the war, the global demand for steel was immense and using that on
an experimental ice ship that might not even have been usable when complete, was simply deemed too
risky. That steel was needed elsewhere in the construction of more tried and tested vessels.
In the end, Project Habakkuk was shelved. The prototype in Alberta was left floating on the
lake - the Pykrete slowly melted and eventually the remaining steel frame sunk to the bottom,
where it still lies to this day as a poignant reminder of what
was probably the most innovative ship design ever conceived. At the start
of this video I called Geoffry Pyke crazy - but if he proved one thing,
it’s that the world would be significantly less interesting if it didn’t have a few crazies in it.