A Technical Look at the Science Behind the
Headlines
By Gordog
August 02, 2021"Information
Clearing House" - "Moon
of Alabama" --The
Americans are now crying ‘uncle’ about Russia’s
hypersonic weapons. After the most recent flight
test of the scramjet-powered Zircon cruise missile,
the Washington Post on July 11 carried a
Nato
statement of complaint:
"Russia’s new hypersonic missiles are highly
destabilizing and pose significant risks to
security and stability across the Euro-Atlantic
area," the statement said.
At the same time, talks have begun on the
‘strategic dialog’ between the US and Russia, as
agreed at the June 16 Geneva Summit of the two
presidents. The two sides had already agreed to
extend the START treaty on strategic weapons that
has been in effect for a decade, but, notably, it
was the US side that initiated the summit—perhaps
spurred by the deployment of the hypersonic,
intercontinental-range Avangard missile back in
2019, when US weapons inspectors were present, as
per START,
to inspect the Avangard as it was lowered into its
missile silos.
But what exactly is a hypersonic missile—and why
is it suddenly such a big deal?
We all remember when Vladimir Putin
announced these wonder weapons in his
March 2018 address to his nation [and the world].
The response from the US media was loud guffaws
about ‘CGI’ cartoons and Russian ‘wishcasting.’
Well, neither Nato nor the Biden team are guffawing
now. Like the five stages of grief, the initial
denial phase has slowly given way to acceptance of
reality—as Russia continues deploying already
operational missiles, like the Avangard and the
air-launched Kinzhal, now in Syria, as well as
finishing up successful state trials of the Zircon,
which is to be operationally deployed aboard surface
ships and submarines, starting in early 2022. And in
fact, there are a whole slew of new Russian
hypersonic missiles in the pipeline, some of them
much smaller and able to be carried by ordinary
fighter jets,
like the Gremlin aka GZUR.
The word hypersonic itself means a
flight regime above the speed of Mach 5. That is
simple enough, but it is not only about speed.
More important is the ability to MANEUVER at those
high speeds, in order to avoid being shot down by
the opponent’s air defenses. A ballistic
missile can go much faster—an ICBM flies at about 6
to 7 km/s, which is about 15,000 mph, about M 25
high in the atmosphere. [Mach number varies with
temperature, so it is not an absolute
measure of speed. The same 15,000 mph would only
equal M 20 at sea level, where the temperature is
higher and the speed of sound is also higher.]
But a ballistic missile flies on a
straightforward trajectory, just like a bullet fired
from a barrel of a gun—it cannot change direction at
all, hence the word
ballistic.
This means that ballistic missiles can, in
theory, be tracked by radar and shot down with
an interceptor missile. It should be noted here that
even this is a very tough task, despite the
straight-line ballistic trajectory. Such an
interception has never been demonstrated in combat,
not even with intermediate-range ballistic missiles
[IRBMs], of the kind that the DPRK fired off
numerous times, sailing above the heads of the US
Pacific Fleet in the Sea of Japan, consisting of
over a dozen Aegis-class Ballistic Missile Defense
ships,
designed specifically for the very purpose of
shooting down IRBMs.
Such an interception would have been a
historic demonstration of military technology—on the
level of the shock and awe of Hiroshima! But no
interception was ever attempted by those ‘ballistic
missile defense’ ships, spectating as they were,
right under the flight paths of the North Korean
rockets!
The bottom line is that hitting even a
straight-line ballistic missile has never been
successfully demonstrated in actual practice. It is
a very hard thing to do.
Consider that a modern combat rifle with a
high-velocity cartridge can fire a bullet at a speed
of about 1,200 meters per second [1.2 km/s]. That is
barely one fifth the speed of an ICBM warhead, and
only about half the speed of a short or
intermediate-range ballistic missile. Clearly,
intercepting anything that flies double or even five
times the speed of a rifle bullet is going to be a
daunting task. [Note from our
previous discussion on the space race and the
technicalities of orbital flight, that the
ICBM does not reach orbital velocity, but
flies on a suborbital trajectory—although it does
exit the atmosphere].
Between the two, speed and maneuvering,
the latter is much more effective in evading
defensive interception.
We know this from many actual battlefield
results. When the US launched large salvoes of
subsonic Tomahawk cruise missiles at Syria in 2017
and again in 2018,
a number of them were intercepted by Syrian air
defenses. But not nearly all. Many did get
through despite the T-Hawk’s relatively slow speed
of about 500 mph, which is only about M 0.7. But the
cruise missile’s ability to fly low to the ground
and maneuver in flight, changing direction
constantly, make it a tough target to hit. Likewise
in the Falklands War, the Argentines used subsonic
and fairly short-range, French-made Exocet
sea-skimming cruise missiles to sink several large
British warships, including a then-state-of-the-art
Royal Navy destroyer,
HMS Sheffield.
Even bird hunters know this, and will use a
shotgun that scatters many pellets over a wide area
rather than a bullet-firing rifle to take down
slow-flying, but maneuvering, land and waterfowl!
Obviously, if you combine high speed WITH
maneuvering, you will have a missile that is going
to be very difficult to stop. [If not impossible,
with something like the Avangard, which reaches ICBM
speeds of up to M 25!].
But let’s lower our sights a little from ICBMs
and IRBMs [and even subsonic cruise missiles] to a
quite ancient missile technology, the Soviet-era
Scud, first introduced into service in 1957! A
recent case with a Houthi Scud missile fired at
Saudi Arabia in December 2017 shows just how
difficult missile interception
really is:
At around 9 p.m…a loud bang shook the domestic
terminal at Riyadh’s King Khalid International
Airport.
‘There was an explosion at the airport,’ a
man said in a video taken moments after the
bang. He and others rushed to the windows as
emergency vehicles streamed onto the runway.
Another video, taken from the tarmac, shows
the emergency vehicles at the end of the runway.
Just beyond them is a plume of smoke,
confirming the blast and indicating a likely
point of impact.
The Houthi missile, identified as an Iranian-made
Burqan-2 [a copy of a North Korean Scud, itself a
copy of a Chinese copy of the original Russian Scud
from the 1960s],
flew over 600 miles before hitting the Riyadh
international airport. The US-made Patriot
missile defense system fired FIVE interceptor shots
at the missile—all
of them missed!
Laura Grego, a missile expert at the Union of
Concerned Scientists, expressed alarm that Saudi
defense batteries had fired five times at the
incoming missile.
‘You shoot five times at this missile
and they all miss? That's shocking,’ she said.
‘That's shocking because this system is supposed
to work.’
Ms Grego knows what she’s talking about—she holds
a physics doctorate from Caltech and has worked in
missile technology for many years. Not surprisingly,
American officials first claimed the Patriot
missiles had done their job and shot the Scud down.
This was convincingly debunked in the extensive
expert analysis that ran in the NYT:
Did American Missile Defense Fail in Saudi Arabia?
This was not the first time that Patriot ‘missile
defense’ against this supposedly obsolete missile
failed spectacularly:
On February 25, 1991, an Iraqi Scud hit the
barracks in Dharan, Saudi Arabia, killing 28
soldiers from the U.S. Army's 14’th
Quartermaster Detachment.
A government investigation revealed that the
failed intercept at Dhahran had been caused by a
software error in the system's handling of
timestamps. The Patriot missile battery at
Dhahran had been in operation for 100 hours, by
which time the system's internal clock had
drifted by one-third of a second. Due to the
missile's speed this was equivalent to a miss
distance of 600 meters.
Whether this explanation is factual or not, the
Americans’ initial claims of wild success in downing
nearly all of the 80 Iraqi Scuds launched, was
debunked by MIT physicist Theodore Postol,
who concluded that no missiles were in fact
intercepted!
As the missile experts in the NYT
point out:
Shooting down Scud missiles is difficult, and
governments have wrongly claimed success against
them in the past.
Governments have overstated the effectiveness
of missile defenses in the past, including
against Scuds. During the first Gulf War, the
United States claimed a near-perfect record in
shooting down Iraqi variants of the Scud.
Subsequent analyses found that nearly all
the interceptions had failed.
Why is shooting down Scuds so difficult? Because
this was arguably the world’s first hypersonic
missile [it flies at M 5 and does MANEUVER]!
If we take a closer look at this missile, we see
that it is propelled nearly throughout its entire
flight. This is the key. The warhead only separates
from the missile body a few miles [mere seconds],
before reaching its target. That missile
body contains a means for maneuvering the missile,
by means of thrust vector—using graphite paddles
that move into and out of the rocket engine exhaust
stream, as seen
here. So it will be jinking and jibing as it
enters the terminal phase of flight—making it a very
hard target to radar track and shoot down!
Once the warhead separates, the spent missile
body falls harmlessly to the ground, as it did just
outside the Riyadh airport, landing on a nearby
street. It is this now uselessly falling body that
could be locked onto by air defense radars and hit
by interceptor missiles—while the warhead itself
sails unobstructed overhead.
The only real problem with those ancient Scuds
was their accuracy. They could be off by hundreds of
meters. But of course, accuracy and missile guidance
systems have come a long way since then. The modern
successor to the Scud, the Russian truck-launched
Iskander, has an accuracy of about 5 meters! It
too, is really a hypersonic missile that reaches M
7, but has a range of only 500 km—which was dictated
by the now-defunct INF treaty, from which the Trump
administration unilaterally withdrew.
The Russian Iskander-M cruises at hypersonic
speed of 2,100–2,600 m/s [Mach 6–7] at a height
of 50 km. The Iskander-M weighs 4,615 kg carries
a warhead of 710–800 kg, has a range of 480 km
and achieves a CEP [circular error probable] of
5–7 meters. During flight it can
maneuver at different altitudes and trajectories
to evade anti-ballistic missiles.
Iskander is generally described, at least in the
west, as a
‘quasi-ballistic’ missile. But ‘quasi’ or not,
the US considers the Iskander a very dangerous
weapon, and a type of weapon which it does not yet
possess. In fact, the US’ attempts to develop its
very first hypersonic missile have been rather slow
out of the blocks. Its first flight test attempt
with the proposed Lockheed-Martin AGM183 [aka ARRW]
in April of this year,
did not even manage to release the rocket from the
wing of the B52 carrier! The second attempt, on
July 29, managed to get the rocket to release,
but the engine failed to fire!
Clearly the US is many years away from fielding a
working hypersonic missile. These
early tests were only supposed to test the rocket,
and carried a dummy ‘glide vehicle’ which is
supposed to separate from the rocket once it reaches
a speed of about M 6 or so, and then glide to its
target while maneuvering.
The prototype missile would carry a frangible
surrogate for that [glide] vehicle that would
disintegrate after release.
However, it is unclear how an unpowered
gliding body is going to accomplish aerodynamic
maneuvering INSIDE the atmosphere. The concept of
boost-glide, which is used by Avangard, works by
hoisting the glide vehicle up above the atmosphere,
at ICBM speed, where the ‘glider’ can then skip off
the upper layers of the atmosphere like a flat
pebble skipping over the surface of a still pond.
The overall flight range of AGM183 is a claimed
1,000 miles [1,600 km]. Clearly such a short-range
missile, and reaching a speed of only about M 8 at
most [based on statements of reaching its target in
a flight time of 10 to 12 minutes] is not going to
be able to use the boost-glide means of maneuvering,
which requires exiting the atmosphere.
The Technical Deep Dive (If you
are not inclined to follow technical details jump to
the
conclusions.)
So let’s look at Russian hypersonic technology in
a little more detail, so that we may understand more
than just what the technically-challenged media are
telling us. From what the Russian military has
already fielded, we can see that hypersonic missiles
come in all shapes and sizes. Some, like Avangard,
are launched by powerful ICBM rockets and have
ICBM-like striking range. Others, like Zircon, are
more like a Tomahawk or Kalibr cruise missile,
powered by an air-breathing engine, and able to
aerodynamically maneuver throughout their
flight to the target—but flying about ten
times faster.
Others, like Kinzhal, which appears to be an
evolution of the Iskander [itself an evolution of
the Scud] are powered by relatively small rockets
and are designed to maneuver gas-dynamically
[thrust vectoring], again, during all phases of
flight, right up to the target.
These are the three primary types for purposes of
basic classification. They all fly very fast [up to
M 25 for Avangard], but they use different
propulsion systems, and different means of
maneuvering. Let’s begin with the Kinzhal, since we
already understand the basics of how a Scud or
Iskander works. In the case of Kinzhal, it is
launched from a very high speed and height by a
MiG31 interceptor aircraft, which is designed to fly
up to 1,500 km at a cruising speed of M 2.4, at a
height of about 20 km.
By carrying even an unmodified Iskander up to
this speed and height, its range could easily
double, to about 1,000 km—since the rocket chemical
energy required to reach that height and speed would
be saved, and could be expended on increasing its
flight range.
The range given for Kinzhal is 2,000 km, but it
is not clear if that includes the flight range of
the MiG31 carrier aircraft. My guess would be that
it does. The MiG has a combat radius of over 700 km
at its M 2.4 cruise speed. That means that after
release, the Kinzhal would need to fly for about
1,300 km before hitting its target—for an
overall system range of 2,000 km. In fact,
the MiG could fly a significant portion of its
flight subsonically, saving fuel, and accelerate up
to supersonic cruise speed, or even its top speed of
M 2.8, only in the last couple of hundred km, before
launching Kinzhal. It would then circle back and
return to base subsonically again. This would
increase range even more.
Either way, it is a safe bet that the overall
range to a target, say a US aircraft carrier, from
the takeoff point of the MiG [now deployed in
Syria], is realistically going to be no less than
the stated 2,000 km, if not more. This is certainly
a game-changer for US naval dominance!
Carrier-based aircraft would have no chance to fly
far enough from their floating airfield to intercept
a MiG31 launching a Kinzhal at 1,000 km or more
distance from the ship. The F/A-18 has a
combat radius for air-to-air missions of only 740
km. Obviously, it is not going to be able to reach
the MiG launching from outside of 1,000 km.
Now let us look at the Zircon cruise missile that
Nato is complaining about. So far, this missile has
been successfully test-flown at target distances of
up to about 450 km. The Russian MoD says its range
is actually in excess of 1,000 km, and that flight
tests to maximum range will be forthcoming.
This too is a game-changer. The Zircon will be
carried by Russia’s new class of surface warships in
the frigate or ‘small destroyer’ size, as well as on
the new Yasen-class cruise missile nuclear subs that
are
now coming into service. These state-of-the-art
subs will also carry subsonic Kalibr cruise missiles
with a maximum range of 4,500 km!
Combined with the air-launched Kinzhal, the US Navy
will face some very stiff challenges—from the air,
from the sea, and even from under the sea. It should
be noted that both the Zircon and Kinzhal are not
exclusively anti-ship missiles. They can just as
readily target land objects, including Nato command
and control centers—which Putin has said Russia will
do, in the event of any kind of western aggression!
But Zircon is also a technological tour de force.
The unique feature of the Zircon is its scramjet
engine. This is the first time that the
world has a production engine of this type—something
which has long been a goal for both the US and
Russia.
Not surprisingly, the Russians flew the world’s
first scramjet prototype back in 1991—the Kholod,
which means ‘cold’ in Russian. Remarkably, in the
Yeltsin détente atmosphere of the early nineties,
the Russian developers of the world’s first
functional scramjet engine, the Central Institute of
Aviation Motors [CIAM] invited Nasa to participate
in the flight tests at the Sary Shagan test range in
Kazakhstan. The results were published in the US
professional literature,
here, and
here.
But despite this technology boost from Russia,
the US has not been able to keep up. Its experiments
with scramjet engines, although wildly hyped in the
media, have been dormant for several years. It
appears that the US has given up on the idea of
building a working scramjet engine for the time
being—much as they gave up, decades ago, on the idea
of building a closed-cycle rocket engine, having
deemed the technology ‘impossible.’
So what is a scramjet engine anyway? To fully
understand this, let’s first look at how a turbojet
engine works. Here is a
picture that is worth a thousand words. Air
enters the front of the engine and is then
compressed by a number of rotating blades on a
series of wheels, similar to a fan or propeller. The
compressed air is then passed into the burner, or
combustion chamber, where fuel is squirted in and
the result is a high temperature and high-pressure
gas that then drives the turbine wheels—which are
bladed in a way similar to the compressor wheels up
front.
The turbine wheels and compressor are on a single
shaft and rotate at the same speed—so it is the
energy of the gas driving the turbines, that drives
the compressors. The remaining energy in the gas is
squeezed out through a nozzle, which accelerates the
gas flow, which, in turn, creates thrust—on the
principle of Newton’s Third Law, action-reaction.
The force of the fast-moving mass flow of gas out
the nozzle, must be compensated by a REACTION force
in the opposite direction [forward thrust], as per
the conservation of momentum principle. Hence all
jet engines, whether air-breathing or rocket, are
called reaction engines.
[Incidentally, the heart of any liquid-fuel
rocket engine is a turbopump, which is basically a
gas turbine engine. It has a burner, where some
amount of the fuel and oxidizer are burned,
supplying gas to drive a turbine wheel or wheels,
which then drive two ‘compressor’ pumps [also
wheels], that pressurize the oxidizer and fuel,
which is then delivered to the main combustion
chamber under great pressure.]
Now what happens when you want to go very fast
with a turbojet engine? Well, you basically hit a
wall, due to the physics of airflow]. The faster you
go, the greater the ram pressure on the front of the
engine. This ram pressure [technically called
dynamic pressure, or ‘Q’] is like kinetic energy—it
increases by the square of speed.
[KE = M x V^2 / 2; Q = rho x V^2 / 2; they are the
same except mass is replaced by density, rho, since
we are dealing with a flowing fluid instead of a
solid particle!]
In simple terms, dynamic pressure [aka
ram pressure] is what you feel on your hand when you
stick your hand out the window of your car while
driving on the highway.
The results of this quadratic pressure rise with
speed are profound! At a typical passenger jet
cruise speed of 450 knots, or M 0.8, the pressure
increase from ram effect, at the front of the engine
fan, is about 1.5. Also, the engine inlet must
SLOW the airflow down to about M
0.5, so that the rotating blades can work
efficiently.
If you increase flight speed to M 2, the
pressure rise at the engine face due to ram effect
is seven-fold! At this speed, you don’t even need a
compressor or turbines.
This is the idea of the ramjet engine—you need no
moving parts, just an air inlet that is designed to
slow down the airflow to below sonic velocity,
turning kinetic energy into pressure energy. The
combustion chamber is simply a pipe with fuel
squirters, where that compressed air is burned with
fuel, and then expelled through a nozzle, exactly as
on the turbojet. In fact the afterburner on
supersonic fighter jets works exactly like a ramjet
engine—fuel is squirted in and combusts with air
that was used for cooling the combustion chamber
walls upstream [only a small amount of air is burned
in a turbojet engine, with air to fuel ratios of
over 50, compared to about 15 for a car engine.] An
illustration of an afterburner shows
the simple basic geometry.
But the ramjet hits a speed limit too, just like
the turbojet. In both cases it has to do with the
falling efficiency of the engine inlet at higher
speeds: more of the kinetic energy of the high-speed
airflow is converted into heat, rather than usable
pressure. In a turbojet, the heat limit is reached
by about Mach 3, when the heat of that incoming air
exceeds the materials limit of the compressor
blades. In the ramjet, eliminating those unneeded
blades and all the other moving parts raises the
temperature limit to a much higher value—so flight
up to about Mach 5 is possible.
Above those speeds, the Ramjet faces a different
kind of problem. As flight speeds continue to
increase, the efficiency of turning that kinetic
energy into pressure continues to decrease steeply.
This pressure loss is due to a series of shockwaves
generated by slowing down the airflow in the engine
inlet passage, upstream of the combustion chamber.
The biggest shockwave and biggest pressure loss
happens when the flow finally transitions to below
sonic velocity. This is called the normal
shockwave, because it is perpendicular [normal] to
the inlet wall, as seen in
this illustration of a supersonic inlet and its
shockwaves.
So the speed limit comes because most of
that ram pressure is not recoverable—it is simply
dissipated into heat by the inlet shockwaves.
Enter the scramjet. Here, the flow is never
actually slowed to below sonic velocity. That’s why
it’s called a SCramjet, for
supersonic combustion—the airflow through the
combustion chamber is well above Mach 1, perhaps
closer to Mach 2. By comparison, the flow in a
turbojet enters the burner at just M 0.2, ten times
slower—and in the afterburner and ramjet, it is
about M 0.5.
This solves the speed limit issue of not having
any more pressure energy available. But it comes
with HUGE challenges. At a flight speed of M 6 or 7,
the craft is moving at a speed of about 2,000 m/s.
The main challenge is the flame front speed of
combustion. Even if it took only one
hundredth of a second to combust the air-fuel
mixture, it would require a combustion chamber 20
meters long! That is hardly practical of
course, but is in line with the flame propagation
speed of aviation kerosene. That is why the
afterburner jetpipes on supersonic aircraft are
several meters long.
So we see that each type of airbreathing engine,
turbojet, ramjet and scramjet, has its own speed
limit, as shown graphically
here. Even the scramjet will run into a wall at
some point. The vertical measure is specific impulse
[ISP], which is engine efficiency, per mass of fuel
burned. We see that ISP decreases the faster we go,
in any type of engine—it simply means that
fuel use rises much faster than flight speed!
But back to the main challenge of the scramjet,
which is flame speed. This is strictly a limit of
the chemical physics of fuel combustion. Hydrogen
burns ten times as fast as kerosene, but is not a
practical fuel—it must be cooled to near absolute
zero to be liquid, and so is not storable, and
cannot be launched at will without time-consuming
fueling. All of the previous scramjet experimental
prototypes, both US and Russian, used cryogenic
liquid hydrogen fuel. But the Zircon uses a
kerosene-based fuel innovation that the Russians
call Detsilin-M.
The exact means by which the Russians have
achieved this fuel chemistry is of course a tightly
held secret, but it is clearly a remarkable
breakthrough in chemical engineering—comparable
to the breakthrough in materials science that led to
the closed-cycle, oxygen-rich staged combustion
rocket engine in the 1960s [which the US still has
not demonstrated].
In a previous discussion here, the
technically-inclined commenter and longtime
gyroplane pilot PeterAU1, dug up some interesting
material about ‘doping’ kerosene with certain
additives to enhance flame front speed. But the
technicalities of that subject are beyond the scope
of this relatively brief introductory discussion.
[Although I’m sure we may hear more in the comments
section!]
Conclusions:
The bottom line is that the Zircon represents not
only a formidable and very deadly weapon—but it is
indicative of the engineering capabilities of the
Russian aerospace industry. It is an impressive
achievement that is in fact groundbreaking. As
mentioned already, Zircon is only the
beginning of scramjet engine use by the Russian
military. The next generation of such
missiles, like the already mentioned Gremlin, will
be even smaller and more capable in range and speed.
At some point in the future, we may even see
scramjet engines on superfast civil aircraft—but
that is probably a long way off yet.
An even bigger engineering accomplishment is the
astonishing Avangard boost-glide vehicle. But I will
leave that remarkable story for another discussion.
The bottom line is that these new Russian
technologies are in fact tilting the global military
balance going forward. They are
game-changing because they are UNSTOPPABLE with
today’s air defense technology. Just like
the Plains Indians couldn’t hope to stop, with their
bows and arrows, the US cavalry with their repeating
rifles.
Even more profound may be the psychological
effect that Russia’s engineering accomplishments
must be exerting on the American psyche, which is
used to assuming that they have the
smartest engineers and make the best military
hardware.
That is demonstrably NOT the case anymore.
And that may be the biggest game-changer of all!
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