How Cross-Channel Plumbing Fuelled The Allied March On Berlin

During World War II, as the Allies planned the invasion of Normandy, there was one major hurdle to overcome—logistics. In particular, planners needed to guarantee a solid supply of fuel to keep the mechanized army functional. Tanks, trucks, jeeps, and aircraft all drink petroleum at a prodigious rate. The challenge, then, was to figure out how to get fuel over to France in as great a quantity as possible.

War planners took a diverse approach. A bulk supply of fuel in jerry cans was produced to supply the initial invasion effort, while plans were made to capture port facilities that could handle deliveries from ocean-going tankers. Both had their limitations, so a third method was sought to back them up. Thus was born Operation Pluto—an innovative plan to simply lay fuel pipelines right across the English channel.

Precious Juice

War is thirsty work, and for the soldiers too. Crown copyright, Imperial War Museums
Back in the 1940s, undersea pipelines were rather underexplored technology. However, they promised certain benefits over other methods of shipping fuel to the continent. They would be far more difficult to destroy by aerial attack compared to surface ships or floating pipelines. An undersea pipeline would also be less likely to be damaged by rough sea conditions that were typical in the English Channel.

The idea was granted the codename PLUTO—for Pipe-Line Under The Ocean. Development began as soon as 1942, and the engineering challenges ahead were formidable. The Channel stood a good twenty miles wide at its narrowest point, with strong currents, variable depths, and the ever-present threat of German interference. Any pipeline would need to withstand high pressure from the fuel flowing inside, resist corrosion in seawater, and be flexible enough to handle the uneven seabed. It also needed to be laid quickly and surreptitiously, to ensure that German forces weren’t able to identify and strike the pipelines supplying Allied forces.
A sectioned piece of HAIS pipeline. Note the similarities to then-contemporary undersea cable construction. Credit: Geni, CC BY-SA 3.0
The first pipe developed as part of the scheme was HAIS. It was developed by Siemens Brothers and was in part the brainchild of Clifford Hartley, then Chief Engineer of Anglo-Iranian Oil and an experienced hand at delivering fuel pipelines in tough conditions. Thus the name—which stood for Hartly-Anglo-Iranian-Siemens. It used a 2-inch diameter pipe of extruded pipe to carry the fuel, surrounded by asphalt and paper doused in a vinyl-based resin. It was then wound with a layer of steel tape for strength, and then further layered with jute fiber and more asphalt and paper. The final layers were an armored sheath of galvanized steel wires and a canvas outer cover. The techniques used were inspired by those that had proved successful in the construction of undersea telegraph cables. As designed, the two-inch diameter pipe was intended to flow up to 3,500 imperial gallons of fuel a day when running at 500 psi.

HAIS pipe was produced across several firms in the UK and the US. Initial testing took place with pipe laid across the River Medway. Early efforts proved unsuccessful, with leaks caused by lead from the central core pushing out through the steel tape layer. The steel tape wraps were increased, however, and subsequent testing over the Firth of Clyde was more successful. Trials pushed the pipe up to 1,500 psi, showing that up to 250,000 liters of fuel could be delivered per day. The pipeline also proved robust, surviving a chance attack by a German bomb landing nearby. The positive results from testing led to the development of a larger 3-inch verison of the HAIS pipe to support even greater flow.
HAMEL pipe in long lengths prior to loading on a Conundrum. Crown copyright, Imperial War Museums
By this point in the war, however, supplies were becoming constrained on all sides. In particular, lead was becoming scarce, which spurred a desire for a cheaper pipe design to support Operation PLUTO. Thus was born HAMEL, named after engineers Bernard J. Ellis and H.A. Hammick, who worked on the project.
HAMEL pipe loaded on a Conundrum, ready to be laid on the seafloor. Crown copyright, Imperial War Museums
The HAMEL design concerned a flexible pipe constructed out of mild steel, at 3-½ inches in diameter. Lengths of the pipe were produced in 40-foot segments which would then be resistance welded together to create a longer flexible pipeline that could be laid on the seafloor. The steel-based pipe was stiffer than the cable-like HAIS, which caused an issue—it couldn’t readily be coiled up in a ship’s hold. Instead, giant floating drums were constructed at some 40 feet in diameter, nicknamed “Conundrums.” These were to be towed by tugs or hauled by barges to lay the pipeline across the Channel. Testing took place by laying pipelines to the Isle of Wight, which proved the concept was viable for deployment.

Beyond the two types of pipeline, a great deal of work went into the supporting infrastructure for the project. War planners had to build pumping stations to feed the pipelines, as well as ensure that they could in turn be fed fresh fuel from the UK’s network of fuel storage facilities and refineries. All this had to be done with a certain level of camouflage, lest German aircraft destroy the coastal pumping stations prior to the British invasion of the continent. Two main stations at Sandown and Dungeness were selected, and were intended to be connected via undersea pipe to the French ports of Cherbourg and Ambleteuse, respectively. The Sandown-Cherbourg link was to be named Bambi, while the Dungeness-Ambleteuse link would be named Dumbo, referencing further Disney properties since the overall project was called Pluto.

The Big Dance

On D-Day, the initial landings and immediate securing of the beachhead would run on pre-packaged fuel supplies in jerry cans and drums. The pipelines were intended to come later, ensuring that the Allied forces had the fuel supplies to push deep into Europe as they forced back the German lines. It would take some time to lay the pipelines, and the work could only realistically begin once the initial ports were secure.
A map indicating the Bambi and Dumbo pipelines between England and France. Notably, the Dumbo pipelines were run to Boulogne instead of the original plan of Ambleteuse. Credit: public domain
Bambi was intended to go into operation just 75 days after D-Day, assuming that Allied forces had managed to capture the port of Cherbourg within eight days of the landings. This process instead took 21 days due to the vagaries of war. Efforts to lay a HAIS pipeline began as soon as 12 August 1944, just 67 days after D-Day, only to fail due to an anchor strike by an escort destroyer. The second effort days later was scuppered when the piping was wound up in the propeller of a supporting craft. A HAMEL pipelaying effort on 27 August would also fail thanks to barnacles jamming the massive Conundrum from rotating, and while cleaning efforts freed it up, the pipeline eventually broke after just 29 nautical miles of the 65 nautical mile journey.

It wasn’t until 22 September that a HAIS cable was successfully installed across the Channel, and began delivering 56,000 imperial gallons a day. A HAMEL pipe was then completed on the 29 September. However, both pipes would fail just days later on October 3 as pressure was increased to up the rate of fuel delivery, and the Bambi effort was cancelled. Despite the great efforts of all involved, the pipelines had delivered just 935,000 imperial gallons, or 3,300 long tons of fuel—a drop in the ocean relative to what the war effort required.
A Conundrum pictured as it was towed to Cherbourg to lay a HAMEL pipeline as part of Operation Bambi. Credit: public domain
Dumbo would prove more successful, perhaps with little surprise that the distances involved were shorter. The first HAIS pipeline was completed and operational by 26 October. The pipeline was redirected from Dungeness to Boulogne instead of the original plan to go to Ambleteuse thanks to heavy mining by the Germans, and covered a distance of 23 nautical miles. More HAIS and HAMEL pipelines followed, and the pipeline would later be extended to Calais to use its rail links for delivery further inland.

A total of 17 pipelines were eventually laid between the two coasts by the end of 1944. They could deliver up to 1,300 long tons of fuel per day—soon eclipsing the Bambi efforts many times over. The HAMEL pipelines proved somewhat unreliable, but the HAIS cable-like pipes held up well and none broke during their use until the end of the war in Europe. The pipelines stuck to supplying petrol, while initial plans to deliver other fuels such as high-octane aviation spirit were discarded.
Once a key piece of war infrastructure, now a small part of a thrilling minigolf course. Credit: Paul Coueslant, CC BY-SA 2.0
Overall, Operation Pluto would deliver 370,000 long tons of fuel to support Allied forces, or about 8 percent of the total. The rest was largely delivered by oceangoing tankers, with some additional highly-expensive aerial delivery operations used when logistical lines were stretched to their very limits. Bulk fuel delivery by undersea pipeline had been proven possible, but perhaps not decisively important when it came to wartime logistics.
A small section of pipeline left over from Operation Pluto at Shanklin Chine on the Isle of Wight. Credit: Crookesmoor, CC BY SA 3.0
Arguments as to the value of the project abound in war history circles. On the one hand, Operation Pluto was yet another impressive engineering feat achieved in the effort to bring the war to an end. On the other hand, it was a great deal of fuss and ultimately only delivered a moderate portion of the fuel needed to support forces in theatre. In any case, there are still lingering reminders of Operation Pluto today—like a former pumping station that has been converted into a minigolf course, or remnants of the pipelines on the Isle of Wight.

Since World War II, we’ve seen precious few conflicts where infrastructure plays such a grand role in the results of combat. Nevertheless, the old saying always rings true—when it comes to war, amateurs discuss tactics, while professionals study logistics.

hackaday.com/2025/12/02/how-cr…

A Stylish Moon And Tide Clock For The Mantlepiece

Assuming you’re not stuck in a prison cell without windows, you could feasibly keep track of the moon and tides by walking outside and jotting things down in your notebook. Alternatively, you could save a lot of hassle by just building this moon and tide clock from [pjdines1994] instead.

The build is based on a Raspberry Pi Pico W, which is hooked up to a real-time clock module and a Waveshare 3.7-inch e-paper display. Upon this display, the clock draws an image relevant to the current phase of the moon. As the write-up notes, it was a tad fussy to store 24 images for all the different lunar phases within the Pi Pico, but it was achieved nonetheless with a touch of compression. As for tides, it covers those too by pulling in tide information from an online resource.

It’s specifically set up to report the local tides for [pjdines1994], reporting the high tide and low tide times for Whitstable in the United Kingdom. If you’re not in Whitstable, you’d probably want to reconfigure the clock before using it yourself. Unless you really want to know what’s up in Whitstable, of course. If you so wish, you can set the clock up to make its own tide predictions by running local calculations, but [pjdines1994] notes that this is rather more complicated to do. The finished result look quite good, because [pjdines1994] decided to build it inside an old carriage clock that only reveals parts of the display showing the moon and the relevant tide numbers.

We’ve featured some other great tide clocks before, like this grand 3D printed design. If you’ve built your own arcane machine to plot the dances of celestial objects, do be sure to let us know on the tipsline!

hackaday.com/2025/12/02/a-styl…

Give Us One Manual For Normies, Another For Hackers

We’ve all been there. You’ve found a beautiful piece of older hardware at the thrift store, and bought it for a song. You rush it home, eager to tinker, but you soon find it’s just not working. You open it up to attempt a repair, but you could really use some information on what you’re looking at and how to enter service mode. Only… a Google search turns up nothing but dodgy websites offering blurry PDFs for entirely the wrong model, and you’re out of luck.

These days, when you buy an appliance, the best documentation you can expect is a Quick Start guide and a warranty card you’ll never use. Manufacturers simply don’t want to give you real information, because they think the average consumer will get scared and confused. I think they can do better. I’m demanding a new two-tier documentation system—the basics for the normies, and real manuals for the tech heads out there.

Give Us The Goods

Once upon a time, appliances came with real manuals and real documentation. You could buy a radio that came with a full list of valves that were used inside, while telephones used to come with printed circuit diagrams right inside the case. But then the world changed, and a new phrase became a common sight on consumer goods—”NO USER SERVICABLE PARTS INSIDE.” No more was the end user considered qualified or able to peek within the case of the hardware they’d bought. They were fools who could barely be trusted to turn the thing on and work it properly, let alone intervene in the event something needed attention.

This attitude has only grown over the years. As our devices have become ever more complex, the documentation delivered with them has shrunk to almost non-existent proportions. Where a Sony television manual from the 1980s contained a complete schematic of the whole set, a modern smartphone might only include a QR code linking to basic setup instructions on a website online. It’s all part of an effort by companies to protect the consumer from themselves, because they surely can’t be trusted with the arcane knowledge of what goes on inside a modern device.

This Sony tv manual from 1985 contained the complete electrical schematics for the set.
byu/a_seventh_knot inmildlyinteresting

This sort of intensely technical documentation was the norm just a few decades ago.
Some vintage appliances used to actually have the schematic printed inside the case for easy servicing. Credit: British Post Office
It’s understandable, to a degree. When a non-technical person buys a television, they really just need to know how to plug it in and hook it up to an aerial. With the ongoing decline in literacy rates, it’s perhaps a smart move by companies to not include any further information than that. Long words and technical information would just make it harder for these customers to figure out how to use the TV in the first place, and they might instead choose a brand that offers simpler documentation.

This doesn’t feel fair for the power user set. There are many of us who want to know how to change our television’s color mode, how to tinker with the motion smoothing settings, and how to enter deeper service modes when something seems awry. And yet, that information is kept from us quite intentionally. Often, it’s only accessible in service manuals that are only made available through obscure channels to selected people authorised by OEMs.

Two Tiers, Please

Finding old service manuals can be a crapshoot, but sometimes you get lucky with popular models. Credit: Google via screenshot
I don’t think it has to be this way. I think it’s perfectly fine for manufacturers to include simple, easy-to-follow instructions with consumer goods. However, I don’t think that should preclude them from also offering detailed technical manuals for those users that want and need them. I think, in fact, that these should be readily available as a matter of course.

Call it a “superuser manual,” and have it only available via a QR code in the back of the basic, regular documentation. Call it an “Advanced Technical Supplement” or a “Calibration And Maintenance Appendix.” Whatever jargon scares off the normies so they don’t accidentally come across it and then complain to tech support that they don’t know why their user interface is now only displaying garbled arcane runes. It can be a little hard to find, but at the end of the day, it should be a simple PDF that can be downloaded without a lot of hurdles or paywalls.

I’m not expecting manufacturers to go back to giving us full schematics for everything. It would be nice, but realistically it’s probably overkill. You can just imagine what that would like for a modern smartphone or even just a garden variety automobile in 2025. However, I think it’s pretty reasonable to expect something better than the bare basics of how to interact with the software and such. The techier manuals should, at a minimum, indicate how to do things like execute a full reset, enter any service modes, and indicate how the device is to be safely assembled and disassembled should one wish to execute repairs.

Of course, this won’t help those of us repairing older gear from the 90s and beyond. If you want to fix that old S-VHS camcorder from 1995, you’re still going to have to go to some weird website and risk your credit card details over a $30 charge for a service manual that might cover your problem. But it would be a great help for any new gear moving forward. Forums died years ago, so we can no longer Google for a post from some old retired tech who remembers the secret key combination to enter the service menu. We need that stuff hosted on manufacturer websites so we can get it in five minutes instead of five hours of strenuous research.

Will any manufacturers actually listen to this demand? Probably, no. This sort of change needs to happen at a higher level. Perhaps the right to repair movement and some boisterous EU legislation could make it happen. After all, there is an increasing clamour for users to have more rights over the hardware and appliances they pay for. If and when it happens, I will be cheering when the first manuals for techies become available. Heaven knows we deserve them!

hackaday.com/2025/12/02/give-u…

Build Your Own Glasshole Detector

Connected devices are ubiquitous in our era of wireless chips heavily relying on streaming data to someone else’s servers. This sentence might already start to sound dodgy, and it doesn’t get better when you think about today’s smart glasses, like the ones built by Meta (aka Facebook).

[sh4d0wm45k] doesn’t shy away from fighting fire with fire, and shows you how to build a wireless device detecting Meta’s smart glasses – or any other company’s Bluetooth devices, really, as long as you can match them by the beginning of the Bluetooth MAC address.

[sh4d0wm45k]’s device is a mini light-up sign saying “GLASSHOLE”, that turns bright white as soon as a pair of Meta glasses is detected in the vicinity. Under the hood, a commonly found ESP32 devboard suffices for the task, coupled to two lines of white LEDs on a custom PCB. The code is super simple, sifting through packets flying through the air, and lets you easily contribute with your own OUIs (Organizationally Unique Identifier, first three bytes of a MAC address). It wouldn’t be hard to add such a feature to any device of your own with Arduino code under its hood, or to rewrite it to fit a platform of your choice.

We’ve been talking about smart glasses ever since Google Glass, but recently, with Meta’s offerings, the smart glasses debate has reignited. Due to inherent anti-social aspects of the technology, we can see what’d motivate one to build such a hack. Perhaps, the next thing we’ll see is some sort of spoofed packets shutting off the glasses, making them temporarily inoperable in your presence in a similar way we’ve seen with spamming proximity pairing packets onto iPhones.

hackaday.com/2025/12/02/build-…

La maggior parte degli adolescenti abbandona la criminalità digitale entro i 20 anni

Le autorità olandesi hanno pubblicato i dati che dimostrano come il coinvolgimento degli adolescenti nella criminalità digitale sia solitamente temporaneo. Un’analisi preparata dalla Camera dei Rappresentanti indica che l’interesse precoce per l’hacking spesso svanisce entro i 20 anni, e solo pochi mantengono un interesse duraturo.

Il rapporto sottolinea che gli adolescenti iniziano a commettere vari tipi di reati più o meno alla stessa età. I reati informatici non sono più comuni dei reati legati alle armi o alla droga, e significativamente meno comuni dei reati contro la proprietà. Inoltre, il percorso verso i primi tentativi passa in genere attraverso simulazioni di gioco che consentono loro di sviluppare competenze tecniche.

Secondo i dati raccolti nel corso degli anni, il picco di attività criminale tra i giovani criminali si è verificato tra i diciassette e i vent’anni. Questa tendenza è coerente con altre tipologie di reato. In uno studio condotto nel 2013 su un campione di diverse centinaia di giovani delinquenti, la maggior parte dei partecipanti ha cessato tale attività poco dopo aver raggiunto il picco.

I ricercatori stimano che la percentuale di coloro che continuano a commettere crimini digitali dopo i vent’anni sia pari a circa il quattro percento. La ricercatrice Alice Hutchings ha osservato già nel 2016 che il coinvolgimento a lungo termine deriva da un interesse costante per la tecnologia e dal desiderio di sviluppare competenze, piuttosto che da incentivi esterni.

Gli autori dell’analisi governativa sottolineano che la maggior parte degli studi sta diventando obsoleta a causa dei rapidi cambiamenti nell’ambiente digitale. A titolo di confronto, citano i dati sui costi sociali totali della criminalità minorile, pari a circa 10,3 miliardi di euro all’anno. La maggior parte dell’onere ricade sulle vittime, mentre la parte restante ricade sui servizi pubblici, tra cui la polizia e il sistema giudiziario.

I costi annuali precisi della criminalità digitale sono difficili da stimare a causa della mancanza di dati a lungo termine. Tuttavia, i dati indiretti ci permettono di stimare l’entità del problema. Ad esempio, uno studio commissionato dal governo del Regno Unito ha rilevato che i danni annuali causati da tre attacchi a un importante ospedale potrebbero superare gli 11 milioni di sterline. Questi importi sono paragonabili o superiori ai costi di molte categorie di criminalità nei Paesi Bassi.

In precedenza, le agenzie governative del Paese hanno ripetutamente sottolineato la difficoltà di quantificare l’impatto degli attacchi digitali. Ad esempio, un rapporto preparato da Deloitte per il governo olandese nel 2016 stimava le perdite annuali per le organizzazioni derivanti da incidenti informatici in circa 10 miliardi di euro, una cifra paragonabile al costo totale della delinquenza minorile.

L'articolo La maggior parte degli adolescenti abbandona la criminalità digitale entro i 20 anni proviene da Red Hot Cyber.