PART 2:CHEMICAL WARFARE SECRETS ALMOST FORGOTTEN...HUMAN GUINEA PIGS-NOT, BZ

CHEMICAL WARFARE 

SECRETS ALMOST FORGOTTEN 

by James S. Ketchum, MD 

With a foreword 

by Alexander Shulgin, PhD 

A Personal Story of Medical Testing of Army Volunteers with Incapacitating Chemical Agents During the Cold War (1955-1975)

4 

HUMAN GUINEA PIGS – NOT! 

Why would anyone volunteer to take an unnamed chemical, even in the interests of medical science and national defense? The intuitive answer might be that nothing short of extortion could induce a rational adult to take such a risk. Surely, only extraordinary and substantial inducements could lure a normal soldier into honoring such a request. 

Surprisingly, we never needed to browbeat, threaten or hint at repercussions for someone’s unwillingness to participate in a drug test. Invariably, would-be volunteers inundated us with applications, year after year. An abundance of troops were obviously more than willing to jump through all the hoops required in order to make the list of accepted candidates. In fact, the ratio of the number of applicants to the number accepted increased progressively throughout the 1960's. 

If these were “guinea pigs” or (as some writers have referred to them), “unwitting guinea pigs,” one would have to assume that American soldiers in those days lacked basic intelligence. They must have been suffering from personality disorders, or been harboring devious reasons for wanting to take chemicals whose names they might never know, from doctors who could not tell them every detail of the effects to expect. Certainly, they could be perceived as lacking in common sense to take a drug that might deprive them of their mental faculties for up to several days. Undoubtedly, they would want assurances from some independent government agency, such as the Food and Drug Administration, that any chemical they agreed to take was perfectly safe. 

How, then, could one explain the fact that between 1955 and 1975, approximately 7,000 healthy enlisted men freely chose to come to Edgewood Arsenal? Each had already met all the Army’s requirements for service, been through the rigors of basic training, and proven his ability to follow the rules of Army life. Yet they came, and all left Edgewood without suffering detectable brain damage or any other serious injury. Furthermore, many of them even requested a second assignment to Edgewood the following year, when the recruiters returned as scheduled to their Army areas. 

In 1961, I gave a test dose of the sleeping medication Seconal to a 35-year old career sergeant. He proudly informed me beforehand that this was his sixth visit and he would no doubt be back again next year. I had to tell him that this was unlikely – it would be unfair to all the other soldiers who wanted to be part of the program. 

Unwitting guinea pigs? Naïve young men taken in by Army propaganda? Mentally marginal soldiers who could not make good decisions? Ignorant individuals who didn’t know what they were getting into because of tight secrecy? In my view, none of the above! 

The men accepted into our program were above average in education and intelligence. Their average AFQT (Armed Forces Qualification Test) score, administered prior to induction, was equivalent to an IQ well over 110, placing most of them in the top third of the general population. With few exceptions, all had graduated from high school and many had completed a year or more of college. All were in the normal range with respect to personality and mental health. None had a record of bad conduct, either before or after they signed up. Their motives for volunteering were quite straightforward. These were not fanatical patriots. They were just soldiers who saw Edgewood Arsenal as an attractive assignment, where they would not have to undergo unreasonably dangerous or stressful procedures. They understood that they could freely say “no” if they had doubts about any test. 

Grapevines exist in every organization, but few are more extensive than those in the military services. Providing reliable information and advice to buddies is a corollary of the Code of Conduct. Soldiers who spend two months in a testing facility surely bring back stories of their adventures – about the gas masks they tested, the discomfort of a tear gas chamber, or the strange trip produced by a drug called “LSD” or “BZ” that had them doing crazy things for hours or days. 

Instructions were given prior to departure not to discuss the details of any tests they had participated in. In reality, this was a pro forma admonition. Exhorting people to maintain secrecy perversely guarantees that many will share their secrets. Although senior officers at the Edgewood Lab insisted that volunteers not divulge their experiences, it is doubtful that any of them truly believed that the men could resist telling stories to their buddies when they returned to the home installations. 

Although most of us recognized that the Army grapevine, like the Internet today, was basically unmanageable, we were obliged to withhold the code names and structures of classified chemical agents. Contrary to what some writers have asserted, however, our doctors described and truthfully answered questions regarding the general nature of a drug’s effects and the purpose of the experiment before asking for a signature on a consent form. (Actually, in the course of their two month assignment, many overheard the names of their drugs and could learn from a bunk companion what the effects were like.) 

Nevertheless, years after extensive testing with drugs such as BZ and LSD had ceased, investigative reporters continued to apply the pejorative “guinea pig” cliché to Edgewood volunteers. If one accepts this designation as correct, perhaps all who decide to sign up for military service, without being told all the details of the dangers they might encounter, should also be considered “guinea pigs.” I suppose it all depends on one’s “weltenschaung.” Nevertheless, no matter what one may think about allowing young soldiers to volunteer as test subjects in chemical experiments, the men themselves seemed to regard it as an attractive prospect, year after year. For more than two decades, volunteers came and kept coming, rarely expressing regret about their decision. 

In 1955, as the program was just starting, the need for volunteers was modest. At first, Edgewood Arsenal requested only twenty men, but then the number increased to 30 and by 1963 the requirement had risen to 50 every two months. Eventually a cohort of 60-80 arrived, requiring the prior review of as many as 300-500 applicants. Surely, this should convince most observers that a great many soldiers wanted to come to Edgewood. 

Yes, there were inducements. They included a light duty schedule, $1.50 per day (the standard pay for temporary duty assignments), comfortable air conditioned barracks, a 3-day pass each weekend (unless on a test), a comprehensive medical examination not ordinarily available at their home installation, and a letter of commendation at the end of the two month assignment. As the IG noted in a later review of the program, these were actually quite substantial inducements for the average low-ranking soldier. Furthermore, there was no penalty for changing one’s mind. Even after arriving, volunteers could decline any test they wished, or even opt out of their assignment altogether, in which case they would return to their previous assignments without prejudice. Quite a good deal! 

Inducements, incidentally, are part of almost every experimental program, in or out of the Army. Newspaper ads recruiting volunteers for similar civilian experiments usually promise a monetary reward. Sometimes compensation comes as a health benefit – free therapy with a new drug along with free examinations and careful follow-up by a skilled physician. Occasionally, it may be a lottery-type proposition, whereby the only reward for one’s services might be the chance to win a flat screen TV, a portable computer or a free vacation in Tahiti. The final decision always rests with the individual. In our program, it was no different. 

It was not easy to become an accepted candidate. Each man was required to fill out a lengthy personal history form, detailing his education, prior disciplinary problems, past or present medical problems, allergies or physical limitations, predilections for street drugs or alcohol, future occupational and career goals, and reasons for volunteering. Those who said they fervently believed it was their “patriotic duty” to take drugs “in the interests of National Defense,” or “to see what a secret drug feels like,” were generally rejected. We were more likely to accept those who said they wanted a chance to visit friends or relatives on the East Coast, or a change of pace from boring jobs as desk clerks or motor pool mechanics. 

At each Post, following a presentation by the briefing team, those still interested stayed in their seats and filled out the numerous pages of the personal history form. Then they spent up to an hour and a half completing the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), a widely used instrument for detecting psychiatric problems or profiling personality characteristics. 

First developed by Hathaway and McKinley in 1947, the MMPI is an interesting test. Each question is a statement which the applicant checks “true” or “false” as it applies to himself. The originators chose its 550 items from a much larger pool, intuitively derived from clinical experience. Initially, they administered their inventory to individuals who had already been psychiatrically diagnosed. Then they selected items that distinguished each diagnostic category. These became the basis for the final 550-item standardized form, still widely used by psychologists after almost 60 years. 

Items most consistently answered true (or false) by each diagnostic subgroup are useful indicators of that diagnosis. For example, patients with paranoid symptoms usually check “true” when asked if they think other people often talk behind their backs, while non-paranoid patients usually do not. Eventually 13 “scales” were established – for example, the Ma Scale (manic tendencies), D Scale (depressive tendencies) and Pd scale (psychopathic tendencies.) 

Three validity scales were also included: L (lying), F (falsification, through inattentiveness to the test, deliberate attempt to mislead, or disturbances in thinking) and K (a scale reflecting the degree to which an individual tries to “put his best foot forward” or present himself in the best light without actually lying). Depending on the circumstances, some who take the MMPI actually try to score high on one or more of these scales. Those who want to “fake good” (for example, be viewed as psychologically well adjusted in order to be selected as a volunteer) will have a high “L” score and probably a high “K” score as well. Those who want to “fake bad” or who cannot comprehend the questions or give improbable or inconsistent answers will score high on the “F” scale. High scores on any of the three validity scales can be grounds for non-selection. 

In summary, there was no coercion. If anything, local commanders sometimes discouraged or even refused to let valued members of their units go to Edgewood. Would-be volunteers were often among the best men they had. Nevertheless, every year each of the six Army areas in the Continental United States provided more than enough eager candidates. Admittedly, when not undergoing testing with a chemical agent, a volunteer’s life was probably much less arduous at Edgewood Arsenal than it had been back at his Post. He could visit nearby cities such as Baltimore and Philadelphia on weekends, and had plenty of free time on his hands when not busy with barracks duties. 

The selection process was initiated by a local announcement that a team from Edgewood Arsenal was coming to describe their research program. Higher authorities ordered commanders to set aside sufficient time at the Post auditorium for would-be volunteers to complete applications, but only if they wished. From 500-1,000 curious soldiers usually showed up. An Edgewood physician would be there to tell the story of our program and show a movie of the facility and testing procedures. After that, those who were interested completed the required forms. 

Upon arrival at Edgewood Arsenal, each volunteer went thorough a battery of medical and psychiatric examinations. They were then placed in categories. Some were allowed to test psychoactive drugs at the higher dosage levels. Others would be eligible only for low doses. The remainder would receive no drugs at all but could test protective clothing or equipment. 

Our screening process, although hardly as rigorous, was remarkably like that used to select astronauts. The difference was that at Edgewood, we were seeking soldiers ready to go into “inner” rather than outer space. 

A second informed consent, beyond the initial general consent given at the time of arrival, preceded any commitment to a particular procedure. A third consent form was required if we planned to document drug effects on film or on videotape. 

Volunteers were frequently willing to participate in a second or even a third study, usually involving different chemical agents. We always required at least one drug-free week between tests – usually more. This gave us time to watch for possible after effects. Finally, at the end of his two-month assignment, each volunteer received a repeat physical exam and comprehensive battery of lab tests to assure his full recovery. 

As mentioned, some 7,000 enlisted men participated in the Edgewood Arsenal chemical agent testing program, most of them from 1961-1970. None, to my knowledge, returned home with a significant injury or illness attributable to chemical exposure. Nevertheless, years later, a few former volunteers did claim that the testing had caused them to suffer from some malady. Follow-up LSD studies at the Walter Reed Army Institute of Research (WRAIR) in 1978 were unable to support these claims. A detailed statistical review of morbidity and lethality rates in subjects given BZ conducted by the National Academy of Sciences (NAS) in 1981 also failed to reveal any detectable ill effects. Following any unusual procedure, medical or otherwise, it is almost inevitable that someone will eventually challenge its safety. As with cell phones and breast implants, claimants may attribute unexplainable physical or mental infirmaties to some previous (often long ago) event. This is predictable, even when there is no scientific evidence supporting a causative connection. A major problem, when trying to ascertain the long-term effects of a particular single experience, is that many “intervening variables” (e.g., use of drugs or alcohol, trauma, illness) muddy the waters; absolute certainty is therefore unattainable. 

It still interests (but more often irritates) me to read news articles referring to the Edgewood volunteers as “guinea pigs” or, especially, “unwitting guinea pigs.” As I have commented during media interviews, real “guinea pigs” do not volunteer freely or sign consent forms. Nevertheless, many persist in the use of this shop-worn cliché. I would say just the opposite – that our volunteers performed a patriotic service, and almost invariably felt good about it! 

Perhaps we should always expect that some dissenting group will challenge scientific findings that do not support their beliefs. It also seems natural that some individuals will attribute monetarily compensable damages to unlikely causes – there is certainly no shortage of lawyers and juries ready to agree with them! 

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

5 

AN INTERESTING DRUG 

TO START WITH 

Before getting into the “heavy duty” chemical agents such as BZ and LSD, it might be useful to discuss a more familiar drug. In 1961, although tests with BZ were already in progress, we also took some time to look into the incapacitating properties of tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), the active ingredient of marijuana. 

Edgewood studies in the late 1950s had already demonstrated that delta-9 tetrahydrocannabinol, the active principle of Cannabis indica (a “weed” that grows in the wild – and sometimes in underground hydroponic farms), was not sufficiently potent to become a chemical weapon. Those studies involved the use of “red oil,” a concentration of a synthetic relative made by chemical extraction and purification. Red oil engendered a powerful high, but not within the dose range thought necessary for any practical military purpose. The Chemical Corps called it EA 1476. 

Historically, attempts to use THC as a weapon dates back 2,500 years or more, when the Chaldeans allegedly burned massive amounts of its plant of origin in an effort to render an attacking force incompetent. Supposedly, they burned enough hemp to generate a huge cloud of the stuff, but the success of this approach is uncertain – the smoke might easily have affected both attackers and defenders. (Modern observers of the drug scene might speculate that this could even be a way of averting war altogether.) 

Chemical Corps interest in cannabinoids came alive when an analog of THC, code named EA 2233, emerged from the laboratories of Arthur D. Little under the supervision of chemist Harry Pars. Before proceeding to a summary of the experiments we carried out with EA 2233 in late 1961, a brief detour “back to the future” is appropriate. 

Harry Pars, as I remember him, was a tall, dark-haired, well-dressed and well-spoken man. He was a frequent visitor to Edgewood during the early 1960s, persuasively presenting progress reports about his latest work with marijuana related synthetic drugs at planning committee meetings. All of this was classified, of course, but in August 1966, Harry evidently received clearance to publish a paper in The Journal of the American Chemical Society. He titled it (in part) “… physiologically active nitrogen analogs of tetrahydrocannabinol.” 

This article did not escape the vigilance of investigative reporters from the San Francisco Chronicle. A swarm of reporters soon surrounded Harry, curious to know more about a footnote acknowledging that some of his work had been “carried out for the U.S. Army Edgewood (Md.) arsenal [sic] in collaboration with the Sterling-Winthrop Research Institute, Rensselaer, NY, under contract No. DA18-108-AMC-103(A)” 

Media brouhaha soon developed around the notion that the military might conceivably be making common cause with the counter-culturists, who for years had extolled the smoke-able “flowering tops” of Cannabis as instruments of peace. The irony that a “straight” military laboratory was investigating “Synthetic Pot” as a potential instrument of chemical warfare was too rich for the fourth estate to ignore. Here was a forbidden mind-altering substance, whose use had for decades been under futile attack by anti-drug government agencies as well as all “right-thinking” citizens – and here was the US Army, apparently contemplating its use on the battlefield! 

Poor Harry! In response to what must have been a withering barrage of questions from reporters, he at first conceded that the Arthur D. Little firm regularly accepted substantial government contracts involving secret work. He then made the disastrous admission that he might occasionally fend off a questioner to protect a secret project. “If I had a contract with anybody – well, our clients are held in confidence unless they themselves want to disclose,” Dr. Pars said. “I think that’s an Arthur D. Little policy.” 

As the hounding continued, Harry at first claimed that the A.D. Little contracts were essentially limited to supplying about six pounds of a potent synthetic relative of THC to the National Institutes of Mental Health for $75,000. Dr. Bob Petersen, speaking for NIMH, immediately expressed “shock and surprise” that anyone might suppose that such a compound could have any military applications.

Another NIMH scientist went out on a limb, saying that it was “incredible” that marijuana in any natural or synthetic form could serve as a chemical warfare agent. THC itself, he said, deteriorates rapidly and is too bulky and expensive for such use. LSD is cheaper, more stable, and packs a bigger punch in a smaller dose. He added that one could readily introduce an easily carried quantity of LSD into the food or water supply of a major city, enough to alter radically the sense perceptions of its population for 12 to 24 hours. 

These extravagant disclaimers, coming from an official NIMH spokesperson, are so inaccurate that it is hard to know where to start setting them straight. To begin with, THC does not ordinarily deteriorate rapidly, as shown in a careful study of shelf life of marijuana potency published in the Proceedings of the New York Academy of Sciences more than thirty years ago. If protected from moisture and heat, Cannabis buds usually deteriorate only about 5-10% per year and much less if kept refrigerated. In purified form, THC would weigh far less than the buds and would require only a few dozen milligrams to produce substantial impairment of performance. This, of course, represents a low degree of potency compared to LSD, which requires only 1 or 2 tenths of a milligram (100- 200 mcg) to be effective. LSD itself, however, far more than THC, is highly unstable in the presence of heat, ultraviolet light or chlorination. Certainly, it is not cheaper than THC. Six pounds of LSD (the amount of THC sold to NIMH for $75,000) would cost orders of magnitude more. 

As Augustus Stanley Owsley, the folk hero chemist who provided the San Francisco Bay area with its purest supply of “acid” in the 1960s could testify, the street value of six pounds of LSD might have been roughly $75,000,000 if distributed as 300-microgram “dots” on blotters. (Today, doses sold on the street average closer to 50 mcg, which no doubt explains the increasing rarity of severe reactions requiring medical attention.) Although the cost of synthesis in an A.D. Little lab would be much less per gram than in Owsley’s cottage industry, it would still have been exorbitant. In the early 1950s, when the CIA naively tried to order ten kilograms of LSD, Sandoz, the holder of the patent, politely informed the CIA that its total production to date had been only about ten grams. 

The assertion that one could affect a city with “an easily portable” quantity of LSD dumped into its water supply is outrageously inaccurate. Powerful as it is, tons of LSD would be required to create an effective concentration in the huge volume of a major city’s reservoir. In the presence of sunlight and chlorination, it is doubtful that residual LSD would have any perceptible effect by the time it reached consumer faucets. The amount of chlorine in a glass of ordinary tap water is sufficient to rapidly deactivate a full dose of LSD. 

The reporters next served up a damning rebuttal to Dr. Harry Pars’ hedging reply that he only sold synthetic pot to NIMH scientists (who, in turn, obviously wanted to wash their hands as quickly as possible of any awareness of military interest in the compound). Reporters pointed to an acknowledgement included in Harry’s published report. “You stated in your article,” one of them noted, “that you were ‘indebted to Dr. A.T. Shulgin, at that time with the Dow Chemical Company, for drawing our attention to the synthesis of these nitrogen analogs, and to Dr. S.W. Hofmann of the research laboratories, U.S. army Edgewood arsenal (sic), for his encouragement of this work.’ What’s the story?” 

“Confronted with this evidence,” continues the March 1, 1969 San Francisco Chronicle article, “Dr. Pars denied he had made an earlier denial. ‘Why would I deny something that’s on the public records? ” he asked. 

“But then he added ‘It is not my business to be telling you what the Department of Defense is or is not doing…I’m certainly not going to go out of my way to disclose things about Department of Defense work.’” R.I.P., Harry Pars! 

This story speaks volumes about the adversarial stance of the media in the late 1960s, especially regarding chemical warfare research. Apparently, no one wanted his or her work tainted with even the hint of military relevance. The fervent disavowal by the NIMH spokesperson is especially ludicrous, loaded as it is with demonstrably untrue assertions about LSD and apparently intended to imply that NIMH was innocent of any connection with Army weapons research. To quote Sir Walter Scott, “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when at first we practice to deceive.” This might be a fitting commentary on the foolish dialogues between press and scientists during that era. Truth often seems to be the first casualty of political correctness. 

The mention of Pars’ indebtedness to Dr. A.T. Shulgin takes us in still another fascinating direction. Alexander (“Sasha”) Shulgin, whose work we will discuss later in this book, was (and remains) the psychochemical genius who first described the subjective effects of dozens of mind-altering drugs, including MDMA (“Ecstasy”). Before I came to know him personally, he too was outspokenly opposed to the Army’s meddling with soldier’s minds by giving them synthetic psychoactive chemicals. In the last decade, however, he and I have found common intellectual ground and developed a congenial friendship. 

Meanwhile, back at the lab, volunteer experiments in 1961 were ramping up and beginning to operate at full tilt. When Harry Pars supplied us with a synthetic analog of THC for clinical testing, it came as a mixture of eight stereoisomers. (Stereoisomers are different spatial conformations of the same molecule.) It was not yet feasible to separate the eight isomers for our first studies and consequently, we could not yet explore the relative potency of each of them individually. 

Nevertheless, to test the range of psycho-activity in relation to dosage, we undertook a study of the mixture (referred to as EA 2233), starting with oral doses of 10 mcg/kg and progressing to a maximum of 60 mcg/kg. We tested two subjects at each of the six dose levels. 

From a potency standpoint, the results were less than exciting. At low doses, performance scores did decline slightly and some subjects reported mild symptoms suggestive of marijuana effects. However, a substantial alteration in both cognitive performance and mood occurred only in one of the two individuals who received the highest dose (60 mcg/kg). This volunteer clearly showed a drop in performance scores, and developed clear-cut signs and symptoms of a marijuana high. 

Although he had never been a marijuana user, it was interesting that he experienced much more intense effects than his partner did. We videotaped the following interview seven hours after he received the compound: 

Q: How are you? 

A: Pretty good, I guess. 

Q: Pretty good? 

A: Well, not so good maybe. 

Q: You’ve got a big grin on your face. 

A: Yeah. I don’t know what I’m grinning about either.

Q: Do things seem funny or is that just something you can’t help? 

A: I don’t – I don’t know. I just – I just feel like laughing. 

Q: Everything seems funny. 

A: It seems like one thing about everything seems funny. And it’s got – well, something that sticks out in my mind. 

Q: How do you mean? 

A: I don’t know. We drew pictures a little while ago. My buddy drew one ([Laughing] and I drew one later on. [Laughing uncontrollably). That’s not even funny! 

Q: Yeah? 

A: I made a green hat with a feather in it, and I don’t know why. 

Q: You made a green hat? 

A: Yeah. A green felt Swiss hat on a cowboy. 

Q: How could you make a green one with a black pencil? 

A: I don’t know. I just think it was green. It seemed like it should be green. 

Q: Did it look green when you drew it? 

A: Yeah. 

Q: It did? 

A: Yeah. I don’t know why. 

Q: Were there any other colors? 

A: No. Just a green felt hat. I don’t know why. It just stuck out. 

Q: About what time is it now? 

A: About – the early afternoon. About 2:30 or so.

Q: You don’t have any trouble keeping track of the time? 

A: I don’t know. I – I hear people talking every once in a while about what time it is. I can pick up bits from that, that sounds like they seem later each time. 

Q: Does the time seem to pass slower or faster or any different than usual? 

A: No. No different than usual. Just – just that I mostly lose track of it. I don’t know if it’s early or late. 

Q: Do you find yourself doing any daydreaming? 

A: Yeah. I’m daydreaming of all kind of things. 

Q: What kind of things? 

A: Oh, everything. That light there looked like an ocean at one time. 

Q: The light looked like an ocean? 

A: Yeah. Like a wave or like being on an ocean liner looking off in the – across the sea as the sun was setting. 

Q: Could you see all that? 

A: Yeah. 

Q: Was that pretty to look at? 

A: Yeah. It was pretty. 

Q: What other things can you imagine? 

A: Well, I kept imagining about those pictures we drew, and little things like that. I don’t know why. I just seem – I don’t know – everything seems like it’s so far away. I – it’s like running in water up to your chin or something. 

Q: Oh, it is? What’s that like? 

A: My arms feel real – like I couldn’t raise them or, if I had to defend myself or anything – just, you know – everything seems comical. 

Q: Do your arms and legs feel like they’re bigger or smaller or any different? 

A: That’s just like – like they’re numb – like a – like trying to move real fast in water. Can’t very well – 

Q: Is this a nice feeling?

A: It gives you a … contented feeling like some [inaudible] of – peace and quiet. 

Q: Suppose you had to get up and go to work now. How would you do? 

A: I don’t think I’d even care. 

Q: Yeah? Well, suppose you, you know, you – well, like the place were on fire? 

A: I don’t think it would be – it would seem funny. 

Q: It would seem funny? Do you think you’d have the sense to get up and run out or do you think you’d just enjoy it? 

A: I don’t know. Fire doesn’t seem to present any danger to me right now. 

Q: Nothing seems to have any – can you think of anything now which would seem hazardous or worry you or are you just in a – 

A: No. No. Everything just seems funny in the Army. Seems like everything somebody says, it sounds a little bit funny. 

Q: Can you tell me what you mean – funny? Like what? 

A: I don’t know. Like somebody telling jokes. Something like that. 

Q: Is it that kind of funny? 

A: Yes. No but, you know – I don’t know what kind it is. It’s a humorous sound just – 

Q: Is it like when you’re in a good mood and you can laugh at anything? 

A: Right. 

Q: You don’t feel – this is not like feeling worried? Just like some types of people laugh when they feel worried or tense, nervous. It’s not that kind? 

A: No. It’s like being out with a bunch of people and everybody’s laughing. They’re just – 

Q: Having a ball?

A: Yeah. And everything just seems funny. 

Q: Would you do this again? Take this test again? 

A: Yeah. Yeah. It wouldn’t bother me at all. 

The subject, of course, did not know the name of the drug he had received, which makes his responses even more interesting. This puts in doubt what some skeptics have maintained: that the marijuana “high” is as much the product of suggestion as it is a true pharmacological effect. Although no effects were “suggested,” this volunteer’s experience was characterized by pleasant relaxation, an unflappable sense that everything was amusing, visual imagery – including colorful illusions and fantasy – and a belief that he would not be able to function due to his lack of concern about anything. These are among the classic symptoms of marijuana intoxication. At intervals during the experiment, subjects were required to “Draw-a-Man,” a commonly used projective test, indicating distortions of self-image as well as the physical and mental capacity to create a coherent representation of the human body. This volunteer did not lack a sense of humor as revealed in several of his “Draw-aMan” responses. (The elapsed experimental time is written in at the top of each figure.) 

Nurses made notes at frequent intervals about each subject. The entries in his case read as follows: 

0-2 Hours: Feels fine. No symptoms noted. 

2-6 Hours: Eyes bloodshot. Tired and somewhat dizzy on standing. Reaction time prolonged. Mouth dry. Speech and behavior normal. At 4 hours begins to find everything laughable. Appears euphoric. Definite changes in perception. 

6-15 hours: Appears “drugged.” Talks in a sleepy manner. Laughs at small incidents. Time seems altered. Believes he would not perform if at work. Having “weird dreams.” Continues to laugh at trivia. At 10 hours, is sleepy and has some gaps in memory for previous few hours. Feels “all washed out” as if he had “had the flu.” At 12 hours given 15 milligrams of Dexedrine orally. At 14 hours, more alert and performance is improved. 

15-40 hours: Light-headed on standing. Occasional lapses of memory. Slept well. Ate breakfast. Complains of “stomach” pain before and after eating. This and all other symptoms subsided and no abnormalities were noted after 30 hours. 

Compared to the 2-4 hour duration of the subjective effects of natural marijuana, the effects of a mixture of the eight isomers of this synthetic derivative lasted much longer – up to 30 hours. We gave some Dexedrine to the above subject to see if it would reduce or shorten his symptoms. Not surprisingly, his alertness improved but all the other effects persisted unchanged. 

About four years later, the individual isomers of EA 2233 became available in purified form and Dr. Fred Sidell initiated another series of trials. At very low intravenous doses of isomers 2 and 4, blood pressure dropped enough to cause concern and Number Facility performance did not change significantly. Rather than take further risks, the lab suspended all testing of EA 2233 isomers. Conceivably, if large declines in blood pressure (particularly on standing) had not occurred, additional testing of isomers 2 and 4 might have proven fruitful. 

The intravenous route is far more effective with THC compounds than the oral route. As Dr. Leo Hollister reported more than a decade after Edgewood trials with THC ended, the main psychoactive part of natural marijuana (delta-9 THC) is several times more effective by the intravenous route than when smoked. In turn, when it is smoked, it is considerably more effective as by the oral route. If these differences apply to the more potent synthetic isomers, incapacitating symptoms might appear after very low doses. One or more of the isomers might even be as incapacitating as some of the synthetic BZ-like drugs. 

Thus, it may be that through an abundance of caution, the Edgewood laboratory veered away from a possibility that newspaper reporters had scornfully rejected: that a popular “pacifying” street drug might actually have real potential as a weapon of “chemical warfare!” 

☢☠☢☠☢☠☢

6 

BZ: TINY BASEBALL GAMES AND 

DC-3s ON A PADDED FLOOR

 

According to a children’s book, the Princes of Serendip had a habit of looking for one thing and stumbling on something better by accident. In 1952, Hoffman-La Roche Inc. chemists created a possible ulcer drug called RO2-3308 – not bad for ulcers, but better at causing hallucinations. Within a decade, Chemical Corps workers were loading this remarkable substance into experimental munitions. They gave it a shorter name: “BZ” (no doubt shorthand for “benzilate,” a subset of the glycolate chemical family). Credit Hoffman -La Roche Inc. with “serendipity.”

After testing BZ extensively in animals, the Medical Research Laboratories gave very small doses to volunteers and obtained only minimal effects. As doses approached half a milligram (i.e., 5 or 6 micrograms per kilogram of body weight), however, hallucinations started to appear. It was potent and it worked! 

Not only did it work, but its effects lasted a long time. At just above half a milligram (i.e., 7 or 8 mcg/kg per kilogram of body weight), volunteers consistently became stupefied. After 4-6 hours, they were usually “out like a light.” By 12 hours, they were moving around again, but were totally disoriented and unable to do much of anything. 

Forty-eight hours later, they were usually approaching normal on their performance tasks. A day or two after that, they were fully recovered – some even said they felt invigorated! We realized this could be an effective incapacitating agent – maybe the Soviets already had it in their arsenal. Chemical Corps commanders thought it important to stay ahead of them. 

Systematic testing of BZ began in July 1960. By March 1963, we were ready to submit a summary of 22 different BZ studies, each designed to explore a particular aspect of its pharmacology. More than 300 enlisted men had helped to develop the details of BZ’s remarkable profile. 

It took almost three years, and an estimated 100,000 hours of professional effort by physicians, nurses, technicians and volunteers to learn all the things we wanted to know about BZ. There were many questions to answer. What dose must one give to produce incapacitation? For that matter, how should we define incapacitation? How fast did effects develop at various doses, and how long did they take to clear? Was BZ equally effective whether taken by mouth, by vein, by muscle, through the air or on the skin? What was the lowest dose that could cause mild but significant effects – the “minimal effective dose?” 

Those were just a few of the questions. There were many more. What would happen if we gave twice the incapacitating dose? Did everyone react the same to a given dose, or were some either extremely sensitive or extremely resistant? To what extent did various doses affect heart rate, blood pressure, respirations, body temperature and pupil size? What were the effects on vision, hearing, strength and neurological functions? If you give the same dose of BZ twice to the same individual (after a suitable interval) would the results be the same? What if you give it several days in a row – would the effects be additive? 

One extremely important consideration was whether BZ effects could be reversed. If we did find an antidote, how safe would it be? Would it be practical for a medical technician to use it in the field? Could a soldier treat himself if necessary? Would he then be able assemble a rifle, put on a gas mask, navigate obstacles, read a map, and communicate coherently by radio or telephone? 

Finally, what would happen if we gave BZ to a group of soldiers? Could they continue to cooperate with each other or would they each go into their own private world and be useless – even detrimental – to the performance of unaffected men around them? Would some of them become obstreperous, or even dangerous, while incapacitated? There seemed no end to the questions one might ask. 

Other considerations were particularly important to military commanders. For example, how high a dose could the average person survive if no treatment were available? How much would weather conditions – particularly heat – affect the likelihood of a fatal outcome? Just how much BZ would a chemical officer in the field need to disseminate to achieve desired effects throughout a given area, and how much variation in dosage would each type of munition produce? 

What would be the most efficient way to deliver a drug like BZ? If employing an aerosol, what particle size would be most effective? Would BZ really be a practical agent for use in combat and if so, under what circumstances? What kinds of unpredictable behavior might one have to anticipate? 

Our work was definitely cut out for us. It took us considerable time to decide how best to conduct the various performance tests. We needed to consider frequency of measurement, ease of administration, effects of practice and relationships between performance in the lab and performance in a military situation. 

As a psychiatrist, I was naturally most interested in observing the effects of BZ on thoughts, feelings and behavior. From what I had seen during my visit to Edgewood in late 1960, when Kaz Kimura and Bill Gordon were doing the testing, there seemed little doubt that I had witnessed volunteers in a state of delirium. 

I had previously seen delirium only a few times – in alcoholics suffering from DT’s and in occasional cases of drug overdose. I vividly recalled a senior officer who had swallowed a large handful of sleeping pills and was admitted to Letterman Army Hospital. When I first saw him, he was on the pediatric ward, sitting in an extra large crib with extra high railings all around the sides creating, in effect, a man-sized cage. He was out of danger, but also very much out of touch with reality. Grossly disoriented, he sat mumbling and picking at various objects in the bed. It was impossible to interview him so, to counteract the sleeping pills, I decided to order a hefty dose of amphetamines. This not-so bright idea turned him into a non-stop radio commentator on every disconnected subject crossing his mind. 

So, even though I had limited experience with delirium, it was clear to me that volunteers under the influence of BZ fell into that general diagnostic category. The term “delirium” derives from the Latin verb, “to rave.” It certainly seemed to be an apt term. Once they regained the ability to speak somewhat coherently – after several hours of stupor – constant raving would be a good description of their incessant speech. I often sat with them for several hours, trying to get the gist of what they were saying, trying to learn whether they could answer questions meaningfully and trying to ascertain what sort of imaginary things they were seeing. 

I had never previously had the chance to observe a delirious person for an extended period, and found the unending kaleidoscopes of speech and behavior fascinating. As a consequence, in my 1963 report I was able to summarize what I had learned from hundreds of hours spent with dozens of delirious subjects. I had watched them descend into disorientation and physical helplessness, become progressively unreachable, as though transported into a world that was for the most part palpable and visible to them alone, and then gradually return to reality. 

The world of delirium is not the psychedelic world created by drugs like LSD, throbbing with overwhelming insights, stunning alterations in shapes and colors, and breath-taking shifts in the nature of time itself. Rather, it consists of familiar, sometimes panoramic, visions of football fields, “trains, planes and automobiles,” and intimate hallucinations of family members or fellow troopers from their home installations. It includes realistic but fleeting encounters with “lions, tigers and bears,” progressively diminishing in size to rats, mice and insects as intoxication slowly subsides. 

I watched volunteers carry on conversations with various invisible people for as long as 2-3 days. Then, fatigue would finally set in and they would fall into a deep restorative sleep. When they woke up 10 or 12 hours later, they were much more aware of their circumstances. Within another day, they were back to their socially appropriate and intellectually competent selves.

That is the executive summary. 

In the complete 1963 report, I gathered all the features I had observed and placed them in conventional psychiatric categories. Medical specialists seem to enjoy using pedantic language that underlines their erudition, and I must admit I was not immune to this affectation. 

Although too long to reproduce in full, I have extracted excerpts from my summary report, hoping they will clarify what BZ is as well as what it is not. The following description is lengthy, but the term “BZ” has been loosely bandied about so often in discussions of chemical warfare (frequently in a sensationalistic manner, and usually quite inaccurately), that a full description seems necessary to correct some erroneous impressions. 

THE CENTRAL NERVOUS 

SYSTEM EFFECTS OF BZ 

General Effects 
“Following the administration of an incapacitating dose of BZ, a typical sequence of events occurs. The onset is more or less insidious, with the first symptoms becoming noticeable at about one hour. Early central nervous system manifestations include heightened deep tendon reflexes, ataxia, incoordination, slurring of speech, dizziness and headache. Nausea, usually without vomiting, is frequent. Subjective weakness, without appreciable loss of strength, occurs primarily in the legs. 

“During the first phase (1-4 hours), discomfort and apprehension are present. Extreme restlessness occurs, sometimes with involuntary clonic spasms of the extremities and birdlike flapping of the arms. Errors of speech and scattered moments of confusion may be noted. 

“After a crescendo of restlessness and ataxia, a second phase (at 4-12 hours) begins. 

“During this second phase, sedation, stupor and even semi-coma develop. The individual sleeps, or appears to sleep, and responds only to direct and sometimes only to strong, stimulation. Spontaneous groping or crawling may alternate with lying quietly. The subject mutters incoherently from time to time. Sometimes he shows “obstinate progression” as he stubbornly tries to crawl in a straight line over, past and through all obstacles. As this primitive behavior (reminiscent of the “running response” in decorticate animals) subsides, the subject enters a third phase, beginning at about 12 hours, during which more spectacular symptoms develop. 

“As speech returns over the next few hours, it is in clipped, flat accents, containing rapid bursts of commonly associated words and phrases, particularly those that are colloquial and habitual. Logical continuity is lacking and most sentences are meaningless or absurd. Hallucinations seem to dominate the field of awareness, and real objects and persons are generally ignored or ludicrously misinterpreted. Touch seems to become the most important sensory system, and the hands are ceaselessly active, exploring clothing, bedding, walls, floor and crevices of the environment. Smoking and drinking of phantom cigarettes and beverages are very common. 

“As delirium subsides, food and drink previously ignored or refused may be accepted in small amounts, although appetite and thirst are generally decreased. The subject begins to respond to short instructions and may be quite tractable, but at times is negativistic and refuses to cooperate. If he feels annoyed, he may strike out at the source of his annoyance. Attention span is very short and distractibility is correspondingly heightened. Drawings and handwriting show marked deterioration. 

“While incapable of sustained intellectual effort, the subject may persist in an activity in spite of failure, ceaselessly prying at cracks in the wall, for example, in an endeavor to escape from an enclosed area. Sometimes he may succeed in conveying some wish, such as a desire to use the latrine, and then be too confused to execute his intention. At other times, he may react violently to hallucinated events and engage in pantomime combat with phantom assailants or in ludicrous play with imaginary companions. 

“As recovery proceeds, the subject gradually begins to converse in a more rational and coherent fashion, but his grasp of the situation is still impaired and he often makes paranoid misinterpretations. He may feel, for example, that someone is out to kill him or that his food is poisoned. He may wonder why he is under such scrutiny and why he is being ‘treated like a little kid.’ 

“While recovering, the BZ-intoxicated subject tends to deny that he is impaired and tries to make excuses for errors or failures during testing or questioning. The casual examiner may be fooled into thinking that little or no impairment is present. During this period, the overall demeanor and manner of acting is sometimes reminiscent of paranoid schizophrenia. 

“If the reaction lasts more than a day, a period of deep sleep generally precedes full recovery. Return of appetite, interest in recreation and a normal display of enthusiasm and spontaneity in conversation are reliable indications that the delirium is over... ” 

“…One intriguing finding is the frequent report by subjects, both during and after recovery from the drug experience, of the illusion of red coloration of the skin, both their own and that of undrugged personnel who are with them. One or two individuals have thought their hands were bleeding when washing them under the tap. Whether this is an optical phenomenon related in some way to engorgement of retinal blood vessels or is central in origin is not known….” 

“…With small doses of BZ, excitation is sometimes not seen at all, or is very mild and transient. Instead, sedation is the predominant effect. It is not uncommon for subjects receiving doses between 2.0 and 5.0 mcg/kg at 10:00 hours experimental time (expressed in hrs:min rather than “1000) to sleep through the afternoon, most of the evening, and then through the night, recovering normal alertness by the following morning. This is not attributable simply to boredom, since at very low doses and with other types of agents, daytime sleeping is either absent or limited to short naps…” 

“...Frequently, time “stands still” for the incapacitated subject, from sometime on the first day until nearly complete recovery, two or three days later. When he “comes to,” he may think it is still the day on which he received the drug, sometimes in the face of external evidence to the contrary. For example, one man commented on the third day of the test: “You know, if I didn’t know it was Friday, I’d swear it was Sunday” (which it was). When asked to explain, he commented that the Post was nearly deserted, “like it would be on Sunday.” …” 

“...With regard to persons in his vicinity, recognition may be accurate for individuals whom he has met prior to testing, such as the doctor or nurse; other people may erroneously be greeted as old friends from his outfit, or even relatives. At times, he may react to large objects possessing a vertical shape as if they were people. One subject tried to provoke a fight with a simulated gun mount; another said “Excuse me, Sir” to the water fountain when he accidentally brushed against it. In more extreme states of confusion, he may even initiate conversations with hallucinated individuals. He conducts these one-sided conversations in such a natural, unstudied manner that acting is out of the question….” 

“…Occasionally, he will take vigorous action to deal with imagined emergencies. Subjects may call frantically for medical assistance to treat an illusionary woman who has supposedly just been run over by a car, or shout up at the air-conditioning vent for someone to “throw down a shotgun and some shells” so he can protect himself from the mob he imagines coming toward his room. One subject scrambled halfway over a seven-foot-high partition, fleeing from “a guy with a gun” and the nurse caught him by the heels just before he vanished head first down the other side…” 

“...Organized, complex panoramic hallucinations are most common between 24-48 hours after exposure to doses at or above the incapacitating dose. These may be benign or even entertaining – one subject described with great enthusiasm a Lilliputian baseball game being played on the floor in front of him. Later, particularly during the night, the visions may be gigantic and terrifying. 

“Still later, in place of elephants and giant snakes, he sees rats, squirrels or spiders and gradually these diminish to become bugs or ants, which he labors to brush from his clothing and bedding. Finally, they disappear or are correctly perceived as pieces of lint, dust, loose threads, raised markings on the floor, nail heads, paint drippings or whatever would have been clearly recognized as inanimate a few hours before…” 

“…Another curious disturbance of memory function is perseveration – the tendency to repeat the same response inappropriately. This may take a unique form: the subject initially cannot answer a question and seems unable even to remember what the question was, but when the examiner asks a new question, he replies by correctly answering the first! Simultaneously, he seems not to have heard the second question, nor to realize he has responded inappropriately…” 

“...After recovery, amnesia is greatest for the period of greatest incapacitation, with fair recall of the onset stage. Amnesia for early phases of recovery is not total at the time of emergence from delirium, but for a while develops further. As time goes by, they fade quickly, in much the same way as dreams recollected in the morning are forgotten by noon. Many subjects demonstrated that if questioned early, they could recall many of the paranoid misperceptions of the previous day, and in retrospect recognize them as distortions. Later, they did not remember this. 

“In general, however, very little is permanently remembered for more than a few hours after recovery, which no doubt accounts for the commonly held medical belief that delirium is characterized by subsequent amnesia... ” 

“...Speech is slurred, the voice develops a monotonous nasal sound, and its volume wanes to an almost inaudible level. This period of incoherent mumbling is sometimes referred to in older medical literature as “mussitant delirium” (mumbling delirium). 

“Handwriting is impaired in quality and is usually reduced in size, sometimes to the point of micrographia. When asked to write on a blackboard, a subject’s ordinary natural tendency to compensate automatically for the examiner’s increased viewing distance by increasing the size of the letters, does not occur. Once again, the loss of ability to maintain a sense of “context” seems to be a major problem…” 

“… [The] peculiar concatenations and distortions of language elements are almost impossible to imitate – they seem to result from an extreme loosening of the entire verbal associative system. As such, they may create a humorous effect, since the shift is so rapid and unpredictable that at times their remarks have the flavor of creativity and wit. (The things that subjects say and do, in fact, are often very funny and it is sometimes difficult to keep from laughing at their antics, professional standards of decorum notwithstanding.) 

“During severe delirium, attempts to clarify the intended communication by asking the subject to repeat or explain something are usually futile. It does no good to say “What do you mean by that?” because the subject does not know what he said, does not really grasp the question and may not realize what he is saying when he answers…” 

“...Unlike schizophrenic psychosis, familiar to the clinician, delirium at its height shows no thematic consistency, no trend and no obsessional preoccupation with a single related set of delusional ideas, systematically connected in a persecutory or grandiose system. Instead there is a marked loosening of associations approaching randomness, muttered phrases, outbursts of profanity, scattered references and allusions to other times and places, brief periods of intense examination of trivial objects, facial expressions of perplexity or wonderment, chuckling amusement or tender concern, repetitious fingering of bedclothes or pajamas, sudden requests for information or personal articles (which are promptly forgotten) and so forth ad infinitum. When addressed, the response is often courteous and noncommittal, such as “Fine, Sir” in answer to the inquiry “How do you feel?”… ” 

“...Such individuals seem unable to appreciate the reality of their deficits, and will offer ridiculous alibis and wildly implausible explanations for their failure to perform adequately in the areas affected by their intoxication. Stalling and temporizing maneuvers are common, such as asking the examiner to repeat the question, or asking for clarification of the instruction when in fact they have completely forgotten it, inquiring naively “You mean me?” or “Did you want me to do that right now?”… ”

“…Paradoxically, one of the most reliable indications of recovery is the return of awareness by the subject that he is not as proficient as he should be. Subjects who receive an incapacitating dose usually regain this awareness by the third or fourth day. By this time, their objective performance on addition and word recognition tests has generally risen to 80 or 90 percent of their baseline level, and the principal symptoms are some residual lassitude and blurring of vision…” 

Additional points, not included in the 1963 report: 
Although apparently awake, intoxicated subjects were in many ways neurologically asleep, as demonstrated by characteristic EEG slow waves. Neurologists sometimes refer to this paradoxical condition as the “pseudo-wakeful state.” In many respects, it resembles the mental activity of normal dreaming, but without the usual suppression of physical activity. With regard to the crawling behavior often seen during early delirium, a colorful Italian term to describe this appears in the older literature: “progresso ostinato” (obstinate progression). Another old term, “carfologia” (or “carphology”), refers to repetitive plucking at clothing, bedding, or imaginary objects in space. The term “wool-gathering” was long ago introduced to describe this kind of fingering of the empty air. 

A vivid example of interpreting people as objects was provided by one subject, who tried to take a bite out of my white coat, thinking it was a loaf of bread. He twisted my arm and wrestled with it briefly, as though it were a crooked pipe that needed straightening. Likewise, the nurses were often explored as if they were interesting but inanimate stimuli. They soon became adept at tactfully withdrawing from such innocent groping. 

A highly intelligent tri-state chess champion provided a striking illustration of the persistence of over-learned skills. We decided to measure his ability while intoxicated with BZ. During the pre-test baseline phase, he played several games with one of our chess-playing psychology technicians. In every case, he won after just a few moves. 

After an incapacitating dose of BZ, he played hourly against the same technician. For three hours, he won with ease, but took progressively longer to reach checkmate. In the fourth hour, he made several foolish moves but still managed to win. In the fifth, he became so irritated at losing both his queen and a rook that he knocked his king down in disgust. Refusing to play further, he declared heatedly that “in no way” was he “going to lose like a duffer!” 

Around midnight, I visited him in his room. He had emerged from stupor and was sitting in the middle of the padded floor, intently studying an upside down magazine. I offered a game of chess. He eagerly accepted. Although helplessly disoriented and delirious in every other respect, he managed to keep his attention on the game, making mostly legal moves, but occasionally a bizarre or inappropriate one. Although a very mediocre chess player, I beat him decisively! 

Instead of being upset, as he had been earlier when incapacitation was just developing, he cordially remarked “good game” and pleasantly offered to play again! Totally absent was any recognition of his poor performance, as well as the previous signs of frustration and irritation. His competitive drive had lost its emotional heat. I concluded that, from thousands of games of chess, his familiarity and interest in the game had enabled him to play almost by rote, despite frequent lapses. The next day, I beat him after a long struggle and the day after that he overwhelmed my amateurish attempts with dispatch. 

Paranoid withdrawal from conversation was common while subjects were emerging from delirium. Although again able to communicate and solve simple problems, they often harbored anxiety-producing ideas and were still subject to frightening illusions. It was especially important at such times to have a skilled nurse or other reassuring staff member close by who could often mitigate their fears through explanation and calm reassurance. Such reassurance did not always succeed in preventing misperceptions, but at least it promoted a more benign interpretation of confusing events. 

This may be a good place to correct some common misconceptions about the effects of BZ and related belladonnoids. Those unfamiliar with the delirious state have often referred to BZ as “hallucinogenic” or “psychotomimetic.” It is undeniably “hallucinogenic,” but the term is hopelessly contaminated by its inexact use in reference to drugs like LSD and psilocybin. Such drugs produce striking illusions, but subjects generally know they are unreal. 

BZ is undeniably “psychotomimetic,” but only in the broad sense that it causes a true loss of contact with reality. It also lacks most of the distinguishing features of the natural psychoses. Schizophrenia, for example, rarely produces visual hallucinations. BZ, on the other hand, seldom produces well-organized delusions (as may occur with LSD). BZ does not produce persistent social withdrawal, as seen in chronic schizophrenia, nor does it create the annoying over friendliness of the manic phase of bipolar disorder. 

In fact, nothing about BZ’s mental effects is unique. The signs and symptoms are identical in almost every respect to those seen following toxic overdoses of a variety of common drugs, such as antihistamines, tricyclic antidepressants, bromides, and barbiturates. Delirium can also occur after head injuries, postoperatively following heart surgery, or during advanced kidney or liver failure. None of these are easily distinguished from the delirium produced by BZ. 

Delirium tremens (the “D.T.s”) resulting from alcohol withdrawal is slightly different in that it is usually preceded by “the shakes,” convulsions and occasionally by “alcoholic hallucinosis” – characterized by accusatory auditory hallucinations. As observed 60 years ago by Maurice Victor, an expert on alcohol problems, delirium tremens usually does not appear until day 3 or 4 following abrupt withdrawal from alcohol. The patient is generally malnourished and grossly deficient in vitamin B1 (thiamine) as the result of a diet consisting of little but alcohol. This deficiency further compromises mental function. 

“Delirium and Allied States,” a classic 1935 monograph by Curran and Wolff, lists over 100 possible causes of delirium. Their detailed clinical descriptions of these confusional states would apply equally well to BZ intoxication. 

One of the most egregious errors made by writers referring to BZ in lay publications (and even some prestigious scientific journals) is to characterize it as some kind of secret “super-potent hallucinogen,” developed by the Army for purposes of riot control, or as a horrible chemical weapon. Such inaccurate descriptions put an unfair Dr. Strangelovian stamp on Army chemical research. Once again, BZ is not a diabolical potion, hidden in some science fiction pharmacy full of mind-bending substances. Boring as it may sound, BZ is just another deliriant. 

It is, however, a potent and long lasting deliriant. As will be illustrated in a later chapter, half a milligram can render a soldier incapable of functioning in a simulated military environment for two to four days. The half of a milligram required could sit comfortably on the head of a dressmaker’s pin – roughly equivalent to a barely visible grain of sand. 

LSD, in comparison, produces incapacitation at less than the BZ incapacitating dose, although the mode of action is quite different. Although writers frequently claim that BZ is much more potent than LSD, they are misinformed. Once again, hearsay overtakes fact. 

The consistency of BZ’s pharmacological effects, rather than potency alone, led to its adoption as an official “standardized” incapacitating agent, the first and only one so “honored” in more than a decade of research. Since it was never officially used as a weapon by the United States (although some claim otherwise) its standardization was more symbolic than a harbinger of actual deployment.

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LSD: THE OTHER ACID TEST