the site for at least a few weeks. Signs and billboards posted throughout the Reservation reminded all to mind their “loose lips.” The following appeared on the first page of the resident’s handbook:
This military area contains a vital war project. Like other installations contributing to the war effort, its security depends upon the whole-hearted cooperation of all concerned in the observing of regulations designed to safeguard the place, the people having access to the area and the information, material, and operations pertaining thereto.
Accordingly, a safe rule to follow is that What you do here, What you see here, What you hear here, please let it stay here.
Background checks were only one step and did not always guarantee employment. Officials also used the waiting period and training process to screen people’s behavior.
One story described a locksmith who sat bragging about his lock-picking prowess to the rest of his training group. He was chomping at the bit to get into those plants so that he could show the military just how lax their security was.
He promptly disappeared from Y-12 training classes.
Others might be dismissed for problems at home, the personal kind that most individuals would consider none of an employer’s business. But this was no ordinary employer. Money issues, for example, might make someone more likely to do or say things for personal profit. Despite the Project’s desperate need for labor, empty chairs routinely appeared with no explanations given.
Some new recruits viewed orientation films depicting the enemy cloaked in blazing terror. Others were asked questions like:
Do you drink? How often?
If someone close to you revealed a secret, would you report them?
Have you ever belonged to any group with communist ties, or that opposes the democratic form of government?
Someone was always watching. One man training to be a supervisor at the Y-12 plant was told that one in four persons here was FBI. Those who worked in processing sometimes broadcasted anecdotes meant to drive home the “zip it” message for new recruits. These were specific enough to be believable, yet vague enough to leave you wondering about the fate of the offending individual.
A woman thoughtlessly wrote her family describing the size and number of facilities in her new town . . . Someone kept a diary . . . A man told a friend about the type of machinery he saw in his plant . . .
During processing and training, individuals, no matter the rung they occupied on the information ladder, were given just enough detail to do their job well, and not an infinitesimal scrap more.
While waiting for his Q clearance, one young scientist in training received a refresher course about topics he’d studied in high school. During the briefing, he asked the instructor to clarify one of his statements. The response from the instructor was clear: Curiosity for curiosity’s sake was not appreciated. If the young man wanted to stick around, he had better shift his focus to his work and trust that everything he needed to know would be told to him precisely when he needed to know it.
★ ★ ★
Oddly enough, Virginia had already received clearance. She had answered the questions, signed the forms and gone through the rigmarole when she came to CEW in December 1943 for her interview. At the time, she was still in school and not available to work. Now, no one seemed to know where her clearance was. She was assigned a dorm room in the newly established West Village, and each day shereported to the bull pen. Because she had a college degree, she was thrust into the unexpected role of teacher.
Back at the University of North Carolina, Virginia had specifically decided not to teach. Initially majoring in English, the first teaching course she took at Chapel Hill changed her mind. She found it rote and uninteresting. But she had always been inclined toward science; she found it endlessly fascinating. There was always something new to
This military area contains a vital war project. Like other installations contributing to the war effort, its security depends upon the whole-hearted cooperation of all concerned in the observing of regulations designed to safeguard the place, the people having access to the area and the information, material, and operations pertaining thereto.
Accordingly, a safe rule to follow is that What you do here, What you see here, What you hear here, please let it stay here.
Background checks were only one step and did not always guarantee employment. Officials also used the waiting period and training process to screen people’s behavior.
One story described a locksmith who sat bragging about his lock-picking prowess to the rest of his training group. He was chomping at the bit to get into those plants so that he could show the military just how lax their security was.
He promptly disappeared from Y-12 training classes.
Others might be dismissed for problems at home, the personal kind that most individuals would consider none of an employer’s business. But this was no ordinary employer. Money issues, for example, might make someone more likely to do or say things for personal profit. Despite the Project’s desperate need for labor, empty chairs routinely appeared with no explanations given.
Some new recruits viewed orientation films depicting the enemy cloaked in blazing terror. Others were asked questions like:
Do you drink? How often?
If someone close to you revealed a secret, would you report them?
Have you ever belonged to any group with communist ties, or that opposes the democratic form of government?
Someone was always watching. One man training to be a supervisor at the Y-12 plant was told that one in four persons here was FBI. Those who worked in processing sometimes broadcasted anecdotes meant to drive home the “zip it” message for new recruits. These were specific enough to be believable, yet vague enough to leave you wondering about the fate of the offending individual.
A woman thoughtlessly wrote her family describing the size and number of facilities in her new town . . . Someone kept a diary . . . A man told a friend about the type of machinery he saw in his plant . . .
During processing and training, individuals, no matter the rung they occupied on the information ladder, were given just enough detail to do their job well, and not an infinitesimal scrap more.
While waiting for his Q clearance, one young scientist in training received a refresher course about topics he’d studied in high school. During the briefing, he asked the instructor to clarify one of his statements. The response from the instructor was clear: Curiosity for curiosity’s sake was not appreciated. If the young man wanted to stick around, he had better shift his focus to his work and trust that everything he needed to know would be told to him precisely when he needed to know it.
★ ★ ★
Oddly enough, Virginia had already received clearance. She had answered the questions, signed the forms and gone through the rigmarole when she came to CEW in December 1943 for her interview. At the time, she was still in school and not available to work. Now, no one seemed to know where her clearance was. She was assigned a dorm room in the newly established West Village, and each day shereported to the bull pen. Because she had a college degree, she was thrust into the unexpected role of teacher.
Back at the University of North Carolina, Virginia had specifically decided not to teach. Initially majoring in English, the first teaching course she took at Chapel Hill changed her mind. She found it rote and uninteresting. But she had always been inclined toward science; she found it endlessly fascinating. There was always something new to
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