ScienceDirect - Technol Rep Tohoku Univ ... - Garryck Osborne

NICK COOK 219
plex. It is clear from these and other entries that Schauberger was racing
against the clock to complete his task.
On October 14, he wrote: "I wish I could work longer, but I have to
stop at four in the afternoon. There is a shortage of materials and tools. I
had to construct parts today from an old tank." Because much of the raw
material was of low quality, he instructed his team to be particularly
mindful of heat stresses and welding quality.
It was also clear that he was being forced to shift between projects as
demands required. On October 23, he turned his attention to developing
a more efficient carburetor for Opel Blitz army trucks, presumably on the
instructions of the SS, an activity that distracted him for the best part of
ten days. On November 4, one of the water-based devices needed his
design input. On November 26, it was the turn of the Repulsine again—
the electric starter motor needed to be checked and fitted.
The team worked on the Repulsine on Christmas Day and on into the
New Year, all the while having to contend with power cuts and air raids.
Finally, on February 28, Schauberger moved his operations center to the
little village of Leonstein in Upper Austria. The decision was a fateful
one on two counts. It not only took him away from the bombing, but
placed him squarely in what would later become the U.S. zone of
occupation. Had he stayed in Vienna, Schauberger would have found
himself in the Soviet zone of influence.
In light of what happened to him in the days, weeks and months that
followed the end of the war, it might have been the softer option.
On April 5, 1945, the diary reveals that final assembly of the Repulsine
had commenced. A month later, it was ready to go. But the end, when it
came, was almost surreal. Instead of firing up the turbine for its first test
run as planned on May 6, Schauberger awoke to find that the SS officers
charged with oversight of the operation had fled into the night. The team
stopped work on May 8, hours before the surrender of German forces
took effect at a minute past midnight on May 9.
The SS machine had not flown in the last days of the war, as the
Legend had maintained, but in almost all other respects it had held up
remarkably well.
The diary had made it clear that Viktor Schauberger had built a
machine that had flown earlier in the war at Kertl (and almost certainly
during Schauberger's secret period of research in Czechoslovakia).
It was also quite clear that the device's modus operandi was wholly
unconventional—that is to say, the method by which it generated lift was
insufficiently explained by current scientific knowledge.
The diary had given me something I could believe in at long last.