REDACTED: Declassified Mysteries with Luke Lamana - A Redacted Medical Mystery: Weather Warriors/Red Menace
Episode Date: August 5, 2025In this special MrBallen’s Medical Mysteries and Redacted Crossover episode, MrBallen and Luke Lamana join forces to bring you two shocking stories of the military testing bizarre, deadly w...eapons of war in secret. In “Weather Warriors,"" the U.S. Army goes to extreme lengths to disrupt Viet Cong supply lines through a classified program called Operation Popeye. In “Red Menace,” a 75 year old pipe fitter in San Francisco wakes up feeling tired and weak. Worst of all, his urine is bright red. And he’s not the only one. Doctors have to act fast to discover the true nature of this terrifying phenomenon. Be the first to know about Wondery’s newest podcasts, curated recommendations, and more! Sign up now at https://wondery.fm/wonderynewsletterFollow Redacted: Declassified Mysteries with Luke Lamana on the Wondery App or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to new episodes early and ad-free on Wondery+. Join Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Start your free trial by visiting https://wondery.com/links/redacted/ now.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
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In August 1963, a crowd of Buddhists gathered in a town square in Hui, a city in South Vietnam.
Their protest was a silent one, but there was a palpable energy in the air.
They were determined not to be beaten.
Even though Buddhists comprise over 70% of South Vietnam's population,
the president, Nodindium, had instituted a series of repressive policies against them.
Months earlier, during a protest against a ban on Buddhist flags,
nine unarmed protesters were killed by the army.
Since then, the Buddhists had carried out relentless,
nonviolent gatherings. A number of monks had even set themselves on fire in protest of the
president. From a fourth floor balcony across the street, an American was keeping a close eye on the
protest below. It didn't bother him that they had assembled, but as an agent of the CIA, he had
orders to disband them. He watched as local police marched in against the protesters. They threw
tear gas canisters into the crowd, sending clouds of vapor billowing up into the square.
Many of the protesters started to cough, but most of them held their ground.
The CIA agent knew they were going to need something stronger to get the protesters to leave.
Then his radio crackled to life.
A voice came through, asking for permission to take off.
The agent picked up the receiver and gave the order.
Their mission was a go.
A few minutes later, the faint sound of an American carrier plane's engines zoomed overhead.
head. It had become an awfully common sound over the past few months, and no one paid it much
mind, except for the CIA agent. Gripping the receiver tightly in its fist, he looked up into
the sky, his heart thrumbing with nervous excitement. The scientists who had briefed the agent
on the mission assured him it was possible. Still, until he saw it with his own eyes, it felt more
like fantasy than reality. The plane passed over the square, and moments later, the sky darkened.
The protesters looked up as the first fat drops of rain fell on them.
From there, the rain steadily grew heavier.
Within a few minutes, it was pouring, and the crowd scattered.
The agent looked on, stunned by what he'd just seen.
It actually worked.
The protesters didn't respond to tear gas,
but there must have been something about the rain that caused them to leave.
Whatever the reason, the United States now had control of the weather.
weather, and they could use it anytime they wanted.
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Hi, I'm Lindsay Graham, host of Wondery's business movers. In our latest series,
a Texas movie mogul storms Hollywood, battling rivals, breaking rules, spending big,
and promoting even bigger in his quest to conquer America's booming new capital of entertainment.
Listen to business movers.
Howard Hughes blows up Hollywood on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.
From Ballin Studios and Wonderry, I'm Luke Lamanah, and this is redacted, declassified mysteries,
where each week we shine a light on the shadowy corners of espionage, covert operations, and misinformation
to reveal the dark secrets our governments try to hide.
Here at Ballin Studios, we love to take.
tell stories that offer our listeners new perspectives on the world around us. All of our different shows
seek answers about the world's great mysteries, be they strange, dark, and mysterious, or simply
hidden in plain sight. On this show, we aim to tell real histories about how our governments use
secrecy to achieve their goals. Oftentimes, those government's actions directly impact their
own citizens. That's why I'm so excited that today, we're crossing over with another Ballin Studios
podcast, Mr. Ballin's Medical Mysteries.
Medical Mysteries, hosted by Mr. Ballin himself, explores various mysteries originating
from one place we all can't escape, our own bodies.
So far, they've told gripping stories about strange hallucinations, sudden compulsive
behavior, deathly illnesses, and so much more.
Our first story today is called Weather Warriors.
It's an account of a classified U.S. government operation during the Vietnam War that aimed
to weaponize weather against the enemy.
Then we'll pass things off to Mr. Ballin
for a second story from the world of medical mysteries,
one whose dangerous ripple effects can still be felt today.
Both of these stories are a fascinating dive
into humanity's relationship with our environment.
Whether it's in medicine or warfare,
humanity often pushes the boundaries of the natural world.
And sometimes, nature pushes back.
The United States government has a long history of attempting to harness weather for use
in warfare. In 1871, Civil War General Edward Powers published a book speculating that
large-scale battles had an impact on the climate. The following year, Congress gave him $10,000
to fire cannons into the sky in Texas, hoping they would cause rain. His experiments were
unsuccessful, but the government never gave up its quest to control the elements. A century later,
as the Cold War simmered through the 1960s and 70s, the United States military launched a new series
of experimental operations. This story follows one of them. It was called Operation Popeye, and was
used during the Vietnam War. The U.S. Army experimented with a scientific technique called
cloud seeding to increase rainfall in areas the North Vietnamese army traveled, but the practice
had unintended consequences for both humans and the environment, and when the operation was leaked
to the public, the military was forced to reckon with the fallout.
In early 1967, almost four years after the initial test to break up a Buddhist protest in South
Vietnam, Lieutenant Colonel Ed Soister was stuck in a stuffy meeting room at the Pentagon.
The Joint Chiefs of Staff were arguing once again about how to stop the Viet Cong.
They'd been at it for a while. Ed sat by and held his tongue, but it wasn't easy.
As the operations officer of a battalion stationed in Vietnam, he was one of the few men in the
room with on-the-ground experience during the war. As his superiors squabbled over different
strategies. All Ed could think about were the potential lives lost. The men who would die
because of their plans, many who never wanted to serve in the first place. Still, Ed was a good
soldier. He wasn't going to speak out of turn or contradict his bosses. He would wait until they
asked him for his perspective. One of the top advisors hammered home that the military needed to
target the Viet Cong supply route, the Ho Chi Minh Trail. The trail was a network of jungle roads,
and tunnels that stretched a thousand miles through Vietnam and dipped into Laos and Cambodia.
It allowed the Viet Cong to move throughout the region almost undetected.
The Joint Chiefs lamented that they had tried almost everything to stop the Viet Cong from using
the trail. Deforestation, deploying Agent Orange from helicopters, even carpet bombing hadn't been
effective. They were running out of options. There was only one thing they hadn't tried yet.
The Ho Chi Minh Trail was only accessible for part of the year.
During monsoon season, it became pure mud.
The tunnels were flooded and the bridges would get washed out.
If they could stretch the rainy season a bit longer,
it could increase their chances of crippling the Viet Cong.
And it just so happened that the U.S. military had discovered a way to do precisely that.
The secretive program was known as Operation Popeye
and it employed a new method of weather control called cloud seeding,
a means of increasing atmospheric density and creating rain.
The military had already successfully tested it in South Vietnam,
which meant cloud seeding was ready for use on the battlefield.
Ed remained expressionless, but inside, his mind was reeling.
As a scientist himself, he had only heard rumors about the practice,
but didn't think it was actually feasible.
After the Joint Chiefs agreed that cloud seating,
was their best option, they needed to select someone dependable to execute the program,
someone with a background in science, someone with on-the-ground experience in Vietnam.
They slowly turned to Ed Soister.
He swallowed hard.
He'd never been put in charge of anything like this.
But he would never turn down such an important assignment,
especially one that came directly from the most senior military leaders in the country.
He saluted and accepted his mission.
The weather in Vietnam was now under his command.
A few months later, in the fall of 1967, an American pilot walked down an airstrip carved out of the jungle in Thailand.
He looked up at the sky. The sun was finally peeking through the clouds.
After months of monsoons, he was grateful to finally have a break in the weather.
He knew it wouldn't last long, though, not if his orders.
from Lieutenant Colonel Ed Soister were to be believed, because today he wasn't going to be dropping
napalm on the jungle or Agent Orange. He was going to be dropping rain. The pilot climbed into the
cockpit of his C-130. He turned the engines on and radioed control. He was cleared for takeoff.
A few minutes later, he was flying over the jungles of Vietnam. He scanned his instruments
as he navigated to his drop point,
Lieutenant Colonel Soister had been clear.
This needed to be precise.
As the pilot approached his target,
he flew lower,
dipping close to the trees.
Below him was nothing but thick jungle
and a few wisps of clouds.
He positioned his finger on the trigger
and took a deep breath.
He'd been briefed on how cloud seating worked,
and it was making him more anxious
than any of the bombs he'd ever dropped.
The moment arrived,
and the pilot pulled the trigger.
Several metal canisters ejected from the plane.
They immediately burst into flames,
spewing millions of particles of silver iodide and lead iodide into the air.
As the particles dispersed through the clouds, atmospheric water clung to them tightly.
These particles would amass more and more water,
making the clouds larger and darker,
and soon enough, they would be ready to burst.
The pilot veered right and turned back toward his home airstrip.
He looked behind him and could barely believe what he saw.
It was actually starting to rain.
And far below, on the jungle floor, the Ho Chi Men Trail would soon turn to deep, impassable mud.
Operation Popeye was fully underway.
Four years later, on the morning of March 18, 1971,
Dennis J. Doolin woke up with a headache.
As the Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense, Doolin had a lot on his plate.
The war in Vietnam was now in its seventh year, with no signs of slowing down.
Doolin's job was to help manage the flow of resources and troops to South Vietnam.
But no matter how many bombs, weapons, or young men he sent over the Pacific,
it didn't seem to be making a difference.
He sat down at the kitchen table, trying to clear his head as he ate breakfast.
It was one of the few moments each day he could take to relax.
As his wife poured him a cup of coffee,
Dooland opened up the Washington Post,
and his Danish dropped out of his mouth.
Jack Anderson had written a column
about a secret U.S. Army program that controlled the weather.
Anderson was a legendary reporter
who had covered everything from the Chappaquitic incident
where Senator Ted Kennedy accidentally killed one of his staffers
to the time President Nixon invited Elvis Presley to the White House.
And now he had blown the lid off another bombshell story, Operation Popeye.
Anderson reported that the program had been running for years with unintended side effects.
The increased rainfall caused by the cloud seating had washed away several villages in Laos.
Doolin was steaming.
He was high up in the Department of Defense, but he hadn't even known about this program.
He sipped his coffee, trying to get a grip.
As if the war wasn't going bad enough already,
now he had a PR disaster on his hands.
Right on cue, the phone on the wall began to ring.
Doolin felt a pang of fear in his stomach.
It was probably one of his bosses, demanding to know how the story got out.
He marched over and picked up the receiver.
Instead, it turned out to be a reporter from the New York Times.
He asked Doolin what he thought about Anderson's story.
Through gritted teeth, Doolin replied,
No Comment, and hung up.
up. Doolin's wife asked him what was going on. She was used to seeing him frustrated with
the news, but she could tell he was more bothered than usual. He sat back down at the kitchen
table, trying to collect his thoughts. The American public already felt lied to about what the
military was doing in Vietnam, but Operation Popeye was different. It was going to scare people.
They were going to demand answers, which Doolin didn't have.
On March 20, 1974, Rhode Island Senator Claiborne Pell leaned forward in his chair.
He watched carefully as representatives from the Department of Defense filed into the hearing room.
His frown deepened as he saw Dennis Doolin and Ed Soister take their seats.
It was almost three years to the day after Jack Anderson's first article about cloud seating was published
and a year after U.S. troops had left Vietnam.
The country wanted answers for the war, and for Operation Popeye in particular.
Senator Pell wanted answers too.
This hearing held in secret was a first step towards getting clarity about the program.
Senator Pell adjusted the mic and launched into his questions.
He looked down sternly at Doolin and Soister and demanded to know what the military was doing with the weather in Vietnam.
He asked why on earth newspapers like the Washington Post had a better picture of the story.
than the United States Senate.
Doolen shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.
He assured the senator that he also had no knowledge of Operation Popeye
until the Post's article.
Pell's eyes shifted to Soister.
He demanded to know why the Thai and Lausian governments
weren't informed on specifics.
Soister cleared his throat.
He began by assuring the committee members
that the cloud seating program was both safe for the environment
and effective in deterring use of the Ho Chi Men Trail.
Beyond that, he only gave a vague response about the security risk of informing American allies
about the cloud-seating program, and he wouldn't give specifics about why the operation had been
kept under such a tight lid.
Pal shook his head.
This was typical.
As a retired naval man himself, he knew a strategic non-answer when he heard one.
He leaned into his microphone to make himself clear.
This was what scared him, not the cloud-seating, but the secrecy.
The military could have any number of programs that Congress had no idea about.
It could not operate with such little oversight.
Pell pressed on.
He asked the men if there were any other weather control operations underway.
What about hurricanes, typhoons?
Doolin shook his head.
The science to manipulate those kinds of weather events didn't exist.
And in his opinion, contrary to Soyster's account, Operation Popeye hadn't even made much of a difference during the war.
The Army's interest in controlling the weather was over.
Powell raised an eyebrow.
Doolin himself said he had no knowledge of Operation Popeye
until Anderson's article was published,
and his boss, Defense Secretary Melvin Laird,
had lied to Congress when the story broke,
denying the existence of the entire operation.
So how could he possibly believe Doolin
when he said that the Army had no additional projects
aimed at controlling the weather?
The men did their best to assure Pell they were telling the truth,
but the senator wasn't convinced.
He gave Doolin and Soyster their marching orders.
Operation Popeye needed to be declassified.
If the army truly had nothing to hide,
it was time the entire project was made public.
Doolin and Soister nodded.
Pell called an end to the hearing.
But as he got up from his chair,
something still bothered him.
He felt the army was playing a dangerous game.
They seemed to have completely ignored regulations and alliances
in the pursuit of a potentially hazardous
this new technology.
Perhaps it was time to go a step further and ban weather control as a weapon altogether,
before the Army took it too far.
Operation Popeye was declassified two months after the secret Senate hearing.
The newly revealed details of the project ruffled feathers in the intelligence community.
The implications of the U.S. military manning such a wide-reaching program without full
transparency raised alarm bells. It also worsened Americans' faith in their government, which was
already low due to the Vietnam War. Anti-war activists were shocked at how callously the military
had treated American allies in the region, particularly after leaks revealed that the army had
covertly bombed Cambodia and Laos. The destruction of Lausian villages during the cloud-seating
operation was widely condemned, and many environmental activists were disturbed by the implications of
Operation Popeye. Silver iodide and lead iodide can be potentially toxic, especially to sea animals.
Though Lieutenant Colonel Ed Soister maintained to the Senate that the cloud seeding program was fully
safe for the environment, the government had known about the negative impact that the operation
could have on the region's crops. Following the backlash, Senator Claiborne Pell helped pass a
resolution urging the government to pursue an international treaty against weather modification. In 19,
In 20176, the United Nations signed the Environmental Modification Convention.
The use of weather control for any hostile purpose remains banned to this day.
When the truth about Operation Popeye came to light, the country was already deeply shaken.
The Vietnam War had been a failure, Watergate had shattered illusions of presidential integrity,
and Richard Nixon had become the first U.S. president to resign in disgrace.
race. Trust in government was in freefall, so when the public learned that the U.S. military
had been trying to manipulate the weather as a tool of war, it fit neatly into the growing
sense that those in charge were willing to do anything and tell the public nothing.
The impulse to question power is healthy, even patriotic. But when answers are withheld,
suspicion and speculation fill the void. That's how we get from cloud-seating in Vietnam to
full-blown conspiracy theories about things like mind-controlling chem trails from jet exhaust
or space lasers that cause hurricanes. Ironically, the government's efforts to conceal the truth
often end up feeding the very paranoia they're meant to prevent. The less transparent institutions
are, the more room there is for wild theories to flourish. And over time, these fantasies don't
just distort reality. They chip away at our ability to act collectively, to trust one another,
and to hold power accountable in any meaningful way.
What Operation Popeye reminds us is this.
Secrecy may serve short-term goals,
but in the long run, it has a cost.
Because in a system built on public trust,
the truth doesn't just matter.
It's the only thing that can hold the country together.
The town of Agda in France is famous for sun, sand, sea and sex.
But lately, life on the coast has taken a strange turn.
The town's mayor, a respected pillar of the community, has been arrested for corruption.
His wife claims he's been bewitched by a beautiful clairvoyant.
Then there's a mysterious phone calls that local people have been getting.
I am the Archangel Michael.
The whole town.
has been thrown into chaos.
As the mayor is unable to carry out his duties,
I would like to address you all.
Legal proceedings have been initiated.
Join me, Anna Richardson and journalist Leo Schick
for The Mystic and the Mayor
as we investigate a story of power, corruption and magic.
Binge all episodes of The Mystic and the Mayor exclusively
and ad-free right now on Wondry Plus.
Start your free trial in Apple Podcasts, Spotify or the Wondry app.
Hey, it's Luke Lamanah.
While Redacted typically uncovers classified government operations from history,
I want to tell you about a new show exposing conspiracies happening right now.
Lawless planet reveals how powerful forces are orchestrating
what might be the biggest cover-up of our time.
Host Zach Goldbaum investigates cases that read like classified files,
whistleblowers silenced, evidence destroyed,
and activists vanishing without a trace.
These aren't just environmental issues.
their high-stakes thrillers unfolding now.
From hidden military reports to leaked documents exposing billion-dollar crimes,
each episode unravels another layer of a global operation keeping us in the dark.
Just as redacted peels back historical secrecy,
Lawless Planet exposes the hidden machinations shaping our world today.
Follow Lawless Planet on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.
You can listen to new episodes of Lawless Planet early and ad-free right now by joining Wondry Plus.
And now, here's Mr. Ballin with our next story, Red Menace.
A woman in her late 20s woke up in the middle of the night with a start.
As she blinked in the darkness, it took her a moment to remember where she was,
in her hospital room in San Francisco.
The woman had come in for fairly routine knee surgery,
and the doctors had assured her she'd be home after only a few days of recovery.
But two weeks later, and she was still here, and she had never felt worse in her whole life.
On top of her bad leg, she now also constantly felt lightheaded and nauseous.
And on this particular day, to make things even more frustrating, she had woken up with a sudden
urge to go to the bathroom.
But she didn't want to call a nurse for help.
She already relied on them so much, it was kind of embarrassing.
But she also hated the idea of going in a bedpan.
So, gathering what little strength she had, the woman very gingerly,
got up out of bed using a crutch. However, as soon as she got on her one good leg, she almost
collapsed. She was so dizzy she could barely stand and it was hard to breathe. But she was still
determined to do this. The woman hobbled her way over to the bathroom, doing her best to keep
herself upright. As she moved, her lower back pulsed with pain and this wave of nausea crashed over her.
Finally, she reached the bathroom, flipped on the light, and sat down on the toilet. Maybe she thought
if she just stayed here for a while, these awful feelings she was having would pass.
She began to relieve herself, and as she did, this sharp, blinding pain shot through her body.
But she kept going, and when she finished, she looked down into the toilet, and she saw a terrifying
sight. Her urine was tinged red. But to her, the color didn't quite look like blood. But then
the question was, what was it?
On October 1st, 1950, Dr. Richard Wheat parked his car outside the Stanford University Hospital
in San Francisco and walked towards the entrance. He lingered outside just for a moment and took a deep
breath of the cool, foggy morning air. He readied himself and then headed inside. He weaved his way
through the bustling fluorescent hallways of the recovery ward. There were a few patients there
he was eager to check on. He made his way to the room of one of the patients he'd been keeping an eye on
for the past few weeks. It was a 75-year-old pipe fitter named Edward Nevin Sr.
Edward had been in and out of the hospital for months, but still, nobody could quite figure out
what was wrong with him. However, finally, a few weeks earlier, he'd had a surgery on his prostate,
and it seemed to make him feel a whole lot better. He'd been recovering well in the hospital,
and so now he was just a few days away from finally going back home to his family.
But when Dr. Wheat opened the door to Edward's room, he was stunned by what he saw. The skinny old man
laying under the sheets in bed turned to look at the Dr. Blankly. He didn't seem to recognize Dr. Wheat.
Just a few days earlier, Edward had been lively and chatty. Now he looked pale and feeble.
Dr. Wheat made his way over to Edward's bedside and asked him how he was doing. Edward groaned
that he felt too weak to move. He'd developed a nasty cough too, and more than that,
it really hurt when he urinated, and his urine was also bright red. As Dr. Wheat listened,
he nodded calmly and acted like everything was fine, but inside, he was very worried.
A little blood in the urine was not out of the ordinary for a patient suffering from a urinary
tract infection or UTI, but it should not be so much that the urine was completely red.
And it wasn't even clear if Edward had a UTI at all, so it seemed like something else
must be wrong with Edward. Dr. Wheat knew he would need to do a thorough exam on Edward
to really get a sense of what was going on here. Clearly, his condition was deteriorating.
The doctor pulled out his stethoscope and placed the diaphragm on Edward's chest and then carefully
listened to his breathing. And what he heard was just a very rough breathing every time the man
inhaled and exhaled, like there was a backup of mucus. To the doctor, it sounded like
Edward had pneumonia, which is a lung infection. Having pneumonia, in addition to whatever
this infection was inside of Edward's urinary tract, was dangerous for someone in Edward's condition,
potentially even deadly. Dr. Wheat moved his stethoscope to listen to Edward's heart, and
what he heard was his heartbeat sounded muffled, which was obviously not a good sign.
This meant that maybe Edward's infection, this mystery infection, had moved through his bloodstream
into his heart already, which meant there really wasn't much the doctors could do to help him.
But Dr. Wheat didn't want to worry his patient even further, so even though he had some pretty
grim news, he didn't share it. Instead, he just promised Edward they would do everything they could
to get him back on his feet. After that, Dr. Wheat walked out of the room with a lot on his mind.
Antibiotics could help Edward's infection, but he needed to figure out what was causing the infection
to know what to prescribe. If they wanted to cure Edward, they were going to have to act fast.
Later that night, a few floors down from where Dr. Wheat had checked on Edward Nevin,
a lab technician named Anne Zuckerman processed blood samples in the Stanford Hospital lab.
She had hoped to be home by this point, but Dr. Wheat had asked her to stay back and,
check a few more tests. Dr. Wheat had told her all about Edward Nevin's case, how the man had an
infection both in his lungs and urinary tract and his urine was bright red. Dr. Weed also said he had no
idea what caused this infection, and he needed Anne's help to try to figure it out. Anne was not one
to leave a mystery unsolved, so she had agreed to stay a bit longer to help Dr. Weed. Anne checked the
results of the test she had performed on Edward's blood, and the sample showed only one abnormality.
Edward had tested positive for a bacteria called serratia Marcessions.
Anne thought that was odd.
She had heard about this bacteria before.
She knew it was sometimes used to conduct experiments in laboratories,
but they didn't use it at this hospital.
Beyond that, she had never heard of anybody using it anywhere in the Bay Area.
And so quickly, she grabbed a medical textbook off the shelf
and thumbed through it to the right page that talked about this bacteria.
It said that S. Marsessions was usually harmless.
According to the textbook, the bacteria was indeed sometimes used in classrooms for experiments,
and also critically, the bacteria also produced a red pigment.
And so Anne thought, that must explain our patient's bright red urine.
However, this bacteria did not explain Edward's lung infection.
It did explain the potential urinary tract infection, because basically it showed he didn't have a UTI.
Instead, the red urine was this pigment from the bacteria.
But this bacteria, S.Marsessions, was supposed to be harmless and was not in any way tied to lung infections.
So why was this typically benign bacteria apparently making Edwards so sick?
Furthermore, how did it even come in contact with it?
Since no one in the hospital used the bacteria, like how could it have made its way into Edwards' bloodstream?
Anne wasn't sure what to make of this, but she hoped Dr. Wheat might have some ideas.
So she hurried over to the phone and dialed his number at home.
Three weeks later, Dr. Wheat walked quickly down the halls of the hospital.
That morning, his patient, Edward Nevin Sr., had died.
Dr. Wheat had done everything he could to try to help Edward fight this mystery infection
that was attacking his body. He had prescribed what he thought was the correct regimen of
antibiotics, but unfortunately, Edward was just too frail. The infection eventually made its way
to his already weakened heart, and it killed him. Dr. Wheat was crushed that he had not
been able to save Edward's life. But right now, he couldn't focus on that. Instead, he had to focus
on the slew of other patients at this hospital who now also were showing all the same symptoms
as Edward Nevin. They were showing the apparent urinary tract infection mixed with pneumonia-like symptoms
and also the red urine. And also, of those new patients of which there were eight by this
point, they all tested positive for SMAR sessions. Dr. Wheat was baffled, as was everybody else.
How was this supposedly harmless bacteria making his patients so sick?
And where was it coming from?
And they were getting new cases every day.
And the weird thing was, this hospital was the only place that was dealing with this strange outbreak.
The patients they were getting seemingly had nothing in common, except that they all lived in San Francisco,
and each of them had undergone a recent medical procedure at Stanford University Hospital prior to presenting with red urine.
And so now, Dr. Wheat and Anne,
the lab technician were terrified that these infections were coming from somewhere inside the hospital.
Dr. Wheat checked in on the youngest of the S. Marsessions patients, a 29-year-old woman.
Originally, she had been admitted to the hospital a week earlier for a knee operation,
but following the operation, she developed these mysterious symptoms.
The woman smiled weekly as Dr. Wheat checked her vitals, but despite her smile,
the doctor knew she was in a great deal of pain.
Dr. Wheat couldn't believe that an otherwise healthy young woman was so affected by this mystery
infection. The pneumonia symptoms shared amongst the patients indicated that they may have somehow
inhaled this bacteria. But that didn't make any sense. Esmar Sessions was not some toxic fume.
It was a harmless lab culture. There was no reason for it to be floating around in the air,
especially the air in a hospital that didn't use or study that particular bacteria at all,
which genuinely frightened Dr. Wheat.
If they couldn't figure out where this bacteria was coming from,
there'd be no way to stop it.
How hard is it to kill a planet?
Maybe all it takes is a little drilling, some mining,
and a whole lot of carbon pumped into the atmosphere.
When you see what's left, it starts to look like a crime scene.
Are we really safe? Is our water safe?
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Almost exactly a year later, in October of 1951, Dr. Wheat was in his office at the hospital,
and he felt a strange mix of pride and anxiety as he flipped through a copy of the AMA RR.
archives of internal medicine. Inside was a report that he had co-authored with Anne Zuckerman,
the lab technician, about the S-Marsessions outbreak. Dr. Wheat thought back to a year earlier.
In total, they had had 11 people show up with this mystery illness. The 11 patients ranged
in age from 29 years old to 78 years old. Despite the tragedy of Edward's death,
Dr. Wheat and Anne took solace in the fact that no other patients died. They experienced
painful, difficult symptoms, but everyone else infected with this bacteria eventually made a full
recovery. To contain the outbreak, the hospital had cleaned its equipment and kept the S-Marsesians
patients totally isolated. Thankfully, they didn't have any more cases after that. Dr. Wheat
actually suspected at the time that there may have been more San Francisco residents with this
bacteria in their bloodstream. However, they just never got sick enough to actually need
hospitalization. And so despite the outbreak coming to an end, Dr. Weak,
Wheat still had two big questions that were left unanswered. How did Esmore Sessions cause these
infections? And perhaps most puzzling of all, where did the S-Mars sessions come from?
Dr. Wheat set the medical journal back down on his desk. He and Anne had written the article
in this journal to bring these nagging questions out into the public. Now with their article
published, he hoped that somebody would reach out and help him solve this mystery.
Unfortunately though, nobody ever reached out.
25 years later, on December 22nd, 1976,
medical malpractice lawyer, Edward Nevin III,
the grandson of Dr. Wheat's patient, Edward Nevin Sr., walked into his own office in San Francisco
feeling very festive.
He was eager to finish up a few last cases before the Christmas holiday.
Edward III had only just sat down when his phone rang.
He figured it was one of his clients, so he picked up.
The voice on the other end of the line,
introduced himself as Robert Bartlett. He was a reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle on the
local stories beat. Edward was surprised by the call. He was just a small-time lawyer. What did a
journalist want from him? Robert asked Edward if he had read the newspaper that day. Edward said no,
he had not had time. Robert told him to pick up the paper and look on page three. So Edward actually
reached over and grabbed a nearby newspaper, opened it up, and he saw a shocking headline.
and suddenly a terrible clarity settled over him.
After a quarter century, Edward and his family now finally had an explanation for what actually
happened to his grandfather.
The headline on page three read Army-tested biological war in San Francisco.
The S. Marsassion's outbreak in San Francisco was not just some chance infection.
Edward's grandfather and the other 10 patients were the victims of a biochemical attack,
and the United States Army was behind it.
On September 26, 1950, as part of a weapons test,
army officials aerosolized the bacteria, S.Marsetians,
and sprayed it directly into the San Francisco fog near the Stanford University Hospital.
Two days later, Edward Nevin developed all of his symptoms,
the first known case of an S.Marsessions infection in the city.
At the time, America was in the midst of the Cold War, and the American government was very concerned
about the threat of a Soviet biochemical weapon, and were eager to test how such an attack
would affect the United States. From 1949 to 1969, the United States conducted over 200
experiments to assess the threat of biochemical weapons in highly populated areas. Shockingly,
it performed these experiments on its own people, using American citizens as unwitting
Now, the Army claimed these tests would be harmless. However, many of the substances they
used to test these potential attacks had dangerous effects, like Seratia Marsessions. In San Francisco
specifically, the S-Marsessions experiment was titled Operation C-spray. Army officials sprayed
S-Marsessions into the fog to see how weather might spread a weaponized bacteria. Perhaps the
thinking was that the government would be able to track how many people this affected by monitoring
if anybody mentioned having bright red urine, which was alarming but not overall harmful.
However, the government did not anticipate the much more dangerous symptoms that came with
Esmar Sessions infection.
The U.S. Army's scientists believed the S.Marsessions bacteria was entirely harmless, and they
chose not to report their experiments to health officials. However, when the news broke about the
S.Mars Sessions outbreak and when the news broke that Edward Nevin had died as a result of it, the
the Army continued utilizing SMAR S-Marsessions in dozens of tests in cities all across America.
The Army's experiments were eventually stopped in 1969, when President Nixon issued an executive order
banning chemical and biological weapons testing. In 1977, 27 years after Operation C-spray began,
the Army finally admitted to spreading the S-Marsessions bacteria in San Francisco.
However, they maintained that the S-Marsessions infections that occurred during the
time the experiment was happening were purely coincidental. Now, this did not sit right with
Edward Nevin's family or any of the other victims involved in the SMAR Sessions outbreak. But
Nevin's family actually sued the government for wrongful death. Their case made it all the way
to the Supreme Court. But ultimately, the courts decided there was insufficient evidence that
Nevin's death was actually caused by Operation C-spray.
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From Ballin Studios and Wondery, this is redacted, Declassified Mysteries, hosted by me, Luke
LaManna.
A quick note about our stories.
We do a lot of research, but some details and scenes are dramatized.
We use many different sources for our show, but we especially recommend the articles.
Rainmaking is used as weapon by U.S. by Seymour Hirsch in the New York Times.
Weather Warfare, Pentagon Decodes' seven-year Vietnam effort by Debra Shappley in Science.
And Popeye the Weatherman by Derek Gregory for Geographical Imaginations.
This episode was written by Jake Natureman, sound design by Andre Pluse.
Our producers are Christopher B. Dunn and John Reed.
Our associate producers are Anness Renique and Molly Quinlan Artwick.
Fact-checking by Sheila Patterson.
For Ballin Studios, our head of production is Zach Levitt.
Script editing by Scott Allen and Luke Baratz.
Our coordinating producer is Samantha Collins.
Production support by Avery Segal.
Produced by me, Luke Lamanagh.
Executive producers are Mr. Ballin and Nick Witters.
For Wondery, our senior producers are Laura Donna Pella Voda,
Dave Schilling, and Rachel Engelman.
Senior managing producer is Nick Ryan.
Managing producer is Olivia Fonte.
Our executive producers are Aaron O'Flaherty and Marshall Louis.
For Wondery.
Hey, it's Luke.
Have you checked out our special crossover episode,
A Redacted Medical Mystery Yet?
It's available right here in the redacted feed
and was created in collaboration with Mr. Ballin's medical mysteries.
The episode explores what happens when classified government operations intersect with unexplained medical cases.
If these kinds of medical mysteries intrigue you,
you need to hear more episodes of Mr. Ballin's medical mysteries.
One of my favorites is death from above, a story about a town that was terrorized by a mysterious outbreak falling from the sky, or the episode's sunless burn, where unexplained mass illnesses sweep across the country.
Maximum volume is another one. A rock guitarist has his world turned upside down by a medical condition that defies explanation.
Every week on medical mysteries, Mr. Ballin uncovers stories like this that will make you question everything you thought you knew about the human body.
Head over to Mr. Ballin's Medical Mysteries right now on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.
And remember, you can listen to both Redacted and Mr. Ballin's Medical Mysteries early and ad-free by joining Wondery Plus.