During WWII, the Nazis were experimenting with localized gravity reduction. They might, or might not, have achieved reducing gravity locally by as much as 40%.
"The Hunt for Zero Point" by Nick Cook
An editor for the esteemed Jane's Defense Weekly says the U.S.
government has been working on Nazi anti-gravity technology in
secret for 50 years.
By Kurt Kleiner
Aug. 5, 2002 - The U.S. government confiscated secret Nazi anti-
gravity technology at the end of World War II, and later may
have tested it in aircraft that account for the rash of post-War
UFO sightings. Some of that technology has probably made its way
into the B2 stealth bomber. Some of it is probably so dangerous
that it's buried away in secret government vaults.
In the post-X-Files age, this sort of conspiracy theory won't
raise any eyebrows. What makes the allegations interesting is
that they appear in "The Hunt for Zero Point," which is written
by Nick Cook, for 10 years the aviation editor at Jane's Defense
Weekly. Jane's is the bible of the defense establishment, known
for its no-nonsense, nuts-and-bolts reporting. A former Jane's
editor tackling this topic is enough to make you take a second
Although anti-gravity research ranks right up there with
perpetual motion on the crank-o-meter, the idea of anti-gravity
can't be completely dismissed. As recently as 1996 a Finnish
scientist announced he could partially "shield" objects from
gravity using spinning superconductors. Although most scientists
are skeptical, NASA is interested enough that it's trying to
replicate the results.
And certainly Nazi Germany was working on a lot of advanced
technology by the end of the war, including rockets, jet
fighters and nuclear power. The U.S. recruited some German
scientists to continue their work in the U.S., most notably
Wernher von Braun, the V-2 rocket scientist who later helped
make the moon landings possible.
It's also clear that the U.S. military works on secret
technology all the time -- about $11 billion worth every year in
"deep black" programs that aren't even acknowledged to exist.
The stealth fighter and B2 bomber were black programs for years.
So even if Nazi flying saucers sound nutty on the face of it,
there's nothing crazy about Cook asking the questions he does.
You might even call it courageous. It's the conclusions he
reaches that are the problem.
Cook's search begins one day when a photocopy of a 1956 magazine
article mysteriously lands on his desk. It's called "The G-
Engines Are Coming!" and is illustrated with a drawing of a
U.S. airman descending the steps of a floating, wingless
aircraft. Cook thinks it's a joke, but gets interested when he
sees aerospace industry leaders of the day quoted as saying
anti- gravity could be the next big breakthrough.
He decides to call one of them, a now-retired engineer named
George S. Trimble. A Lockheed Martin P.R. person, "Daniella
Abelman," sets up an interview, then calls back and says Trimble
"I don't mind telling you that he sounded scared and I don't
like to hear old men scared. It makes me scared," she tells
Cook. "Let me give you some advice. Stick to what you know
about; stick to the damned present. It's better that way for all
of us.'" (Cook has changed "Abelman's" name, so there's no way
to call her and see if she really talks like a character in a
Tom Clancy novel.)
Of course Cook's curiosity is inflamed, and he tracks down
Trimble in a retirement community in Arizona and -- oh, wait a
minute. That's what you expect him to do. But here's what he
says. "My great regret was that I couldn't contact George S.
Trimble directly. Had I done so, I knew that Abelman would have
gone ballistic. She'd told me to stay away from him and she had
the power to ensure that I became an outcast if I didn't."
Unwilling to face the wrath of the flack, he retreats to the
Internet where "in the silence of the night, I could roam ...
and remain anonymous." He finds the story of Thomas Townsend
Brown, a former Navy engineer who believed he could negate
gravity using electricity and who by 1956 was demonstrating
small, electrically charged flying disks. The military was
briefly interested, but in the end issued a report that said
there was no usable technology there.
But Cook notices something in a 1947 Army Air Force memo (famous
among UFO buffs), in which Lt. Gen. Nathan Twining concludes
that UFOs are real. Twining adds that it is "within the present
U.S. knowledge" to construct similar aircraft, given enough
Cook concludes that by 1947 the U.S. must already have had a key
component of UFO technology -- anti-gravity. That's why they
weren't interested in Brown's technology years later. He
suspects the technology came from Nazi Germany, and recounts
allegations of German flying saucer programs from a few dubious
books, as well as information he admits seems to have "magically
appeared out of thin air ... passed down from one researcher to
the next, without attribution."
He gets off of the Internet and starts searching through
military archives for clues. He finds a few hints in old Army
Air Force records on Luftwaffe technology, but nothing
substantial. Then he reads that the SS was in charge of the most
secret German technology. "I felt a constriction in my throat. I
was so keyed, my breath was coming in short, sharp gasps." Don't
worry, he's not having a heart attack. He just realizes he's
been looking in the wrong place. He starts reading about the SS.
Soon we're off to Poland. A "researcher" named Igor Witkowski
shows Cook an old mine, where he claims SS scientists worked on
a machine called the Bell, a glowing, rotating contraption that
used up a lot of electricity. "Word had it that the tests sought
to investigate some kind of antigravitational effect, Witkowski
said." Somebody else thinks it might have been a time machine.
Then Cook finds yet another SS anti-gravity program, a flying
saucer called the "Repulsine."
Cook concludes that an SS official named Hans Kammler had all of
this technology boxed up and flown to a safe place, later
trading it to the U.S. military for his freedom.
The U.S. government kept it all under wraps for years, but
probably implemented some of it in the B2 bomber. Why didn't the
U.S. make more widespread use of this technology? Partly because
it would have disrupted the existing aerospace industry, with
its expertise in winged aircraft. Partly because anti-gravity
might tap into energies just too destructive to tamper with. And
"... in the 1940s and 1950s, it wasn't as if the world really
It's a story that strains credulity. But unless we're after
cheap laughs, our hope when we pick up a book like this is that
the author will, against the odds, build a careful, reasonable
and convincing case. Cook isn't that author.
The first problem is that Cook is no help sorting out the
physics he's writing about. His explanation of "zero point
energy" (a quantum effect caused by virtual particles winking in
and out of existence) is acceptable. But he's also capable of
explaining that the Repulsine made air molecules "pack so
tightly together that their molecular and nuclear binding
energies were affected in a way that triggered the anti-gravity
effect." Both explanations sound equally weird to the layman.
But the first is recognized science, the second pseudo-science.
OK, so physics is hard, and Cook is a journalist. But we should
at least expect him to bring a journalist's care to the sources
he uses and the conclusions he draws. Instead, we're bombarded
with a hodgepodge of information trawled up from the Internet,
other books and UFO and anti-gravity enthusiasts, along with
some firsthand reporting. Although he makes a show of weighing
this information with the critical eye of a trained aerospace
expert, he doesn't prove worthy of much confidence.
A perfect example is his reliance on Witkowski, the Polish
researcher, whose information is key to Cook's conclusions.
Where did the information come from? Witkowski says a Polish
government official (whom he refuses to name) allowed him to see
some documents, but not make copies of them. Why does Cook
"Witkowski had been recommended to me by Polish sources through
my work at Jane's as someone who was both highly knowledgeable
and reliable ... Had Witkowski been in any way a lightweight, I
would have turned around and got on the first plane home. But
when I saw him, I knew he was OK."
Just as shaky are most of Cook's conclusions. For instance, the
old Army Air Force memo in which Twining says UFO-type aircraft
are "within the present U.S. knowledge" runs like a mantra
through the book. Cook thinks it means that even in 1947 the
U.S. could have built an aircraft capable of tremendous
acceleration and instantaneous changes of direction, a craft
that would require anti-gravity to work.
Twining actually says, "It is possible within the present U.S.
knowledge ... to construct a piloted aircraft which has the
general description of the object in subparagraph (e) above."
What's that description? Metallic, saucer-shaped, quiet, no
trail, capable of flying in formation, with a cruising speed of
300 knots. Right or wrong, Twining's not talking about the same
astonishing capabilities as Cook is.
Or look at his conclusions about Kammler, the SS official Cook
thinks traded the anti-gravity technology to the U.S. By the end
of the war Kammler was the administrator in charge of most
advanced research programs, including the V-2 rocket factories.
But where's the evidence he traded any technology -- much less
anti-gravity technology -- to the U.S.? Well, a lot of Germans
with technological knowledge tried to cut deals with the U.S.
Kammler's movements at the end of the war are mysterious, and
there are contradictory reports about his death. Besides, Cook
thinks it's the kind of thing Kammler would do.
"My feeling was Kammler would offer them something so
spectacular they'd have no choice but to enter into negotiations
In fact, a lot of the evidence here is based on Cook's feelings.
A minor but typical example is a feeling he gets while reading a
"recovered transcript," supposedly of a phone call between two
Air Force officers discussing Brown's work. Gen. Victor E.
Bertrandias is the chatty one; a general named Craig doesn't say
much -- only "No" and later "I see." It's Craig who catches
"The man's urbane delivery earmarked him, to me at least, as
someone big in Air Force intelligence." All that from, "I see."
What is instructive about the book is the insight we get into
how conspiracy theories seduce otherwise reasonable people. Like
all of us, Cook knows that real conspiracies exist. No one
questions, for instance, that military technologies are being
developed in secret, and that the government "conspires" to keep
details from the public.
But what do you look for when you think direct evidence has been
withheld or suppressed? Before searching some old records, Cook
realizes "it was inconceivable that the ... intelligence teams
would have documented the discovery [of German flying saucers]
for the world to read about ... I wasn't searching for the
obvious, because the obvious would have been picked up by the
censors." So Cook is reduced to ferreting out minor
inconsistencies and odd, ambiguous details which he tries to
puff up into proof.
Likewise, information that is available has to be suspected as
possible government disinformation. Perhaps the military has
encouraged UFO reports to disguise its own flying saucer tests.
Maybe the mythical Philadelphia Experiment (in which a Navy ship
was supposedly sent into another dimension) was really just a
story designed to discredit Brown. But, since the best
disinformation always contains a grain of truth, maybe there
really is a connection between anti-gravity and other
Using this reasoning, all bets are soon off, and almost anything
you turn up -- lack of evidence, official denials,
unsubstantiated rumors, wild conjecture -- becomes evidence for
what you're trying to prove.
In the end, Cook's argument boils down to the old proverb he
invokes several times -- Where there's smoke there must be fire.
But sometimes, someone's just blowing smoke.