The Wall Street Journal - 14.03.2020 - 15.03.2020

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C4| Saturday/Sunday, March 14 - 15, 2020 **** THE WALL STREET JOURNAL.


Why Do


Raindrops


Make Bubbles?


EVERYDAY PHYSICS


HELEN CZERSKI


REVIEW


PHOTOS BY MICHAEL M. PHILLIPS/THE WALL STREET JOURNAL

SPRING SHOWERS
have arrived in London,
but I don’t really mind.
I find the splat of rain-
drops falling on pud-
dles a very comforting sound, one
that I associate with childhood and
the urge to immediately go and jump
in all the puddles I can find. As a
physicist who studies bubbles, I’ve
got a scientific interest in these pud-
dles too, because they sometimes
have bubbles floating on the top.
Raindrops are small—slightly less
than a 10th of an inch in diameter, in
a typical shower—but they often
generate bubbles that can be half an
inch across. However carefully you
watch, you’ll never see the physics at
work, since the whole process takes
around two hundredths of a second.
It’s a hidden part of our world that
happens right in the open.
Since the 1960s, scientists have
spent a surprising amount of time
studying water drops hitting pools of
water, and the list of ways in which
a drop can produce a bubble keeps
getting longer and more astonishing.
For example, when it rains on deep
water, the drop impact briefly cre-
ates a hole in the water’s surface,
and a small bubble may pinch off
from the bottom as the hole closes.
Every new bubble formed in this
way produces a faint sound, like a
bell being struck. The tone is only
just within the human hearing range,
about two octaves above the highest
note on a piano. But scientists have
experimented with using it to mea-
sure rainfall rate.
Bigger drops with a lower impact
speed generate bigger bubbles, and
these make a tone that’s well within
the human hearing range. (The Japa-
nese have a garden musical instru-
ment that uses and amplifies this
sound, called asuikinkutsu.)Really
tiny bubbles are created when a drop
falls slowly and traps air between it-
self and the pool.
The humble puddle is also the
theater for an even more elegant
process. The splash caused by an im-
pacting drop can create a circular
wall around the impact point. This is
called a crown, because the top of

the wall quite often breaks up into
droplets, making it look just like a
toy crown. The critical parameter is
the puddle depth. If it’s too shallow,
you get a splash but no bubble; if it’s
too deep, you might get a submerged
small bubble.
But when things are just right, the
splash rebounds off the bottom of
the puddle and the circular wall
reaches up even higher than usual.
The surface of the water acts as if
it’s an elastic sheet, so that as the
elongated crown travels upward, it
also bends inward to form a dome.
The edges collide in the middle but
stay intact, leaving a hemisphere of
air trapped underneath a watery
shell and creating a nice big bubble.
In a typical outdoor puddle there is
likely to be a bit of organic material
that will stick to the bubble’s sur-
face, helping the bubble to last long
enough for us to see it.
I find this process amazing. It’s so
delicate and requires such a specific
set of physical processes to happen,
yet it’s so common that we’ve all
seen the outcome. You and I could
watch puddles for hours and see
bubbles appear as if by magic. But
every bubble is a reminder that the
human eye can’t see everything
that’s going on and that nature be-
comes more beautiful as we under-
stand more about how it works.

It takes 0.02 seconds for a bubble to
form when a drop falls on water.

GETTY IMAGES


M


auritania, a vast
Muslim country
on the edge of
West Africa, has
adopted a unique
strategy to protect itself against an
Islamist militant threat that is get-
ting bigger and closer: It has turned
more than a quarter of its territory
into a no-go zone.
In 2018, Mauritania handed its
military control over 108,000
square miles of the Sahara, an
area roughly the size of Nevada.
Late last month, the Mauritanian
army gave The Wall Street Journal
unprecedented access to the exclu-
sion zone. Inside, troops have
great latitude to arrest or kill any-
one suspected of smuggling arms,
trafficking drugs or importing Isla-
mist violence. “If you’re in the mil-
itary zone and you don’t have per-
mission, you’re a suspected
terrorist,” said army Maj. Sidi Mo-
hamed Hedeid.
It was a move born of a fear that
bad things are coming Mauritania’s
way. The country straddles the Sa-
hara, and in the south, the Sahel, a
belt of semiarid land that stretches
just below the great desert. A wave
of Islamist militancy is overwhelm-
ing the countries of the Sahel. Affil-
iates of al Qaeda and Islamic State
killed more than 4,000 people in
Burkina Faso, Niger and Mali last
year in some 800 attacks.
Deep inside Mauritania’s exclu-
sion zone is a military outpost
called Lemgheity, or “covered well.”
The name comes from a water
source that travelers braving the
Sahara could find there. No village
or trading post is nearby. The mili-
tary stations its troops here be-
cause it’s a crossroads for nefarious
actors coming from Western Sa-
hara, Algeria and Mali.
Just over the Mali border, hun-
dreds of square miles of desert are
controlled by fighters from Jama’at
Nasr al-Islam wal Muslimin, or
JNIM, an umbrella group formed by
three al Qaeda allies. Along ancient
caravan routes, the lines blur
among militants, arms traffickers,
camel herders and drug mules. At
two wells long used by travelers
and herders, al Qaeda fight-
ers now meet and control
who gets to drink, the Mau-
ritanians say.
“As long as our neigh-
bors aren’t in charge of
their territory, we have to
take extra steps to protect
ours,” said Col. Siyed El
Asry, deputy commander of
the military zone, after in-
specting his troops at
Lemgheity.
From Mali, a rocky
spine called El Hank, or
“jaw,” extends more than
250 miles southwest
across Mauritania; its
boulders of dark gray
shale have survived 500
million years of erosion
around the escarpment. Before
GPS navigation, travelers used El
Hank as their guidepost through
the emptiness of the desert.
The Mauritanian army splits
Lemgheity’s forces between two
adjacent positions atop El Hank.
Stone guard towers offer clear
fields of fire at likely approaches
from Algeria, Mali and Western
Sahara. Two lines of rocks mark
an airstrip on the otherwise fea-

BYMICHAELM.PHILLIPS

to persuade prisoners that vio-
lence is against their religion.
In addition to training comman-
dos, the U.S. has donated two
Cessna surveillance aircraft that
can transmit live footage of enemy
positions. Washington applauds
Mauritania’s anti-militant zeal,
while also criticizing the country’s
human-rights record. The State De-
partment has suspended some mil-
itary aid because of Mauritania’s
failure to crack down on human
trafficking and hereditary slavery.
In the capital, Nouakchott, ru-
mors persist that the government
secretly forged a nonaggression
pact with the militants that ex-
plains the lack of successful recent
attacks, an allegation that the
army hotly denies. “There is no
agreement with al Qaeda,” said
Maj. Hedeid. “They’re our enemy.
We’re killing them.”
The military believes the no-go
zone is the source of its success.
In the first two months of this
year, troops twice stopped sus-
pects in the desert. In mid-Febru-
ary, one of Mauritania’s Western
allies intercepted signals and
tipped off the Mauritanian army
that two suspicious pickups had
entered from Western Sahara and
were heading east through the
zone. Another truck that crossed
into Mauritania from Mali was
headed west to meet them.
A Mauritanian Super
Tucano ground-attack
fighter plane, bought from
Brazil, scrambled from an
air base on the edge of
the desert. “We watched
them second by second,”
said Col. Noueh. At the
rendezvous point, military
photos show, the Super
Tucano strafed one of the
trucks, which then ex-
ploded into orange flame,
releasing a rooster’s tail
of oily black smoke that
rose like a beacon into the
open sky. Ground troops
swarmed the charred re-
mains, seized the other
trucks and a pile of ma-
chine guns and rifles, and
arrested six suspects, sev-
eral in military-style camouflage
pants and one with a leg wound.
The soldiers treated the injured
man, tied blindfolds around the
prisoners’ heads and lined them
up next to the contraband for pho-
tos. (The army has yet to release
information about their nationali-
ties or intentions.)
On the last day of February,
with the Saharan sun at its hot-
test, the troops at the Lemgheity
outpost retreated to a stone build-
ing, plopped down on cushions on
a deep-red floral rug and tore into
a shared plate of stewed mutton
and soft white bread. They slurped
shot glasses of sugary tea.
On a television hooked up to a
satellite dish, the men watched as
Taliban and U.S. negotiators signed
an accord intended to end the 18-
year conflict in Afghanistan, which
began with al Qaeda’s hijacking of
four American jetliners on 9/11. It
was a surreal moment in the ever-
shifting war against Islamist ex-
tremists, combatants on one front
watching those on another make
peace. “I’d like the same thing here
in the Sahel,” said Maj. Hedeid.

tureless desert floor below, where
searing heat distorts the air and
creates a mirage of shimmering
pools of water. A Mauritania flag,
green and red with a yellow star-
and-crescent, flutters in front of a
tiny stone-and-mud mosque.
In 2005, theoutpost was the
scene of the bloodiest militant at-
tack in Mauritania in recent years.
Some 150 fighters poured over the

border from Mali, and at dawn on a
June day, seized the high ground on
El Hank. The militants surprised
Lemgheity’s poorly trained, poorly
armed 50-man garrison. Seventeen
soldiers were killed and were bur-
ied in a mass grave downhill from
the outpost they died failing to de-
fend. Today, soldiers pray there,
holding their hands palms-upward
in the traditional display of faith.
With each subsequent attack af-

ter 2005, militants ventured fur-
ther out of the desert and toward
towns and cities. Three troops
died in a 2007 attack. The follow-
ing year, militants captured and
decapitated 12 soldiers. In 2011,
militants believed to be from al
Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb
crossed into Mauritania’s south
and kidnapped a gendarme.
But the 2011 attack was the last
that Mauritania has suffered. In
2009, the military formed an elite
Special Intervention Group, which
has since received advanced infan-
try and logistical training from
U.S. Marines. The commandos now
man seven outposts in the exclu-
sion zone; the military won’t dis-
close the size of the force there.
Mobile units spend up to two
weeks at a time roaming the hin-

terlands in desert-tan Toyota Land
Cruiser pickup trucks hunting for
infiltrators.
It’s not a free-fire zone. The
army must have reasons to suspect
that the pickup trucks they spot
crossing the desert are carrying
terrorists or smugglers. But officers
have wide discretion to arrest or
kill suspects without military-zone
travel permits. “We scrutinize tar-
gets very closely,” said Col. Ahmed
Salem Noueh, the army’s chief of
planning. “Sometimes the enemy
comes as a trader. Sometimes he
comes as a herder.”
Commandos also dig wells and
provide medicine for desert dwell-
ers along the Mali border, accord-
ing to the Mauritanians. “The ter-
rorists would like to win the
hearts of the population,” said
Maj. Hedeid. “We want to beat
them to it.” Mauritanian officials
say that they hold jailhouse coun-
seling sessions with captured mili-
tants, in which Islamic scholars try

Mauritaniahasclosedoffawideswathofthe
SaharatoblockthepathofIslamistmilitants.

Insidea


No-GoZone


ForTerror


A deadly
2011 attack
was the last
that the
country has
suffered.

Mauritanian mobile units
practice tactics in the Sahara.

A Mauritanian commando
mans a guard tower
at the Lemgheity outpost.

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