§1. The pressure spectrum for solid-state bonding [00:02]
So if you don't have any questions, I'll start rambling. We've been talking about pressure bonding — I've been calling it cold welding, but it's really variations on pressure bonding. If you want to think about it in terms of a one-dimensional diagram on a log scale: you'll learn that I love one-dimensional diagrams, mostly because I can follow them myself.
Student: What's one megapascal in PSI?
145 PSI. So down in this region of plus or minus one megapascal, that's where you're just fixturing two parts. If I stick a one-pound weight on the table and it's one square inch, that's 1 psi and it just sits there. That's fixturing. Diffusion bonding you can do at 100 megapascals of pressure, which is about 14,000 PSI. There's a liquid phase diffusion bonding that's somewhere down in the fixturing pressure range. But cold welding in general, if I'm just sliding two surfaces together, I've got to get up to even higher local pressures. And explosive bonding, you're getting up to lots of megapascals — you're essentially getting impact loads to deform these things.
Remember, two things you've got to get rid of: surface contamination, and surface roughness. So we're going to try to get something that breaks down those interfaces by shear — those little mountain peaks. [Tom shows a micrograph of an ultrasonic wedge bond.] This is an ultrasonic welding wedge bond — aluminum-silicon wire on an aluminum substrate. Right in the center you just have a normal force squeezing on it, and you don't get the real bonding until you actually get shearing and break down those surface asperities and extrude out the impurities.
§2. Friction welding and friction stir welding [02:54]
We talked about friction welding. [Tom shows a linear friction weld sample.] This is a linear friction weld between steel and copper. They don't like to mix very well in the solid state, so you can make a dissimilar metal joint, and you can see the difference in mechanical properties here. Up at the top you can see you transferred a little bit of steel and kind of broke the bond as you were going along.
There's another process called friction stir welding. [Tom locates a friction stir weld sample.] Friction stir welding was the most recently invented welding process, from about 25 years ago at the British Welding Institute. Some guy who was studying friction welding wondered how he could vary the geometry — he took a milling machine, put a steel bar in it, and ran it between two plates. Actually he may have started with an aluminum bar. He spun it around and ran it through. They always machine off the top because it looks terrible. You're basically stirring and breaking the weld as you go, but you generate enough heat that you're forging the whole thing together as you're going. If you do it properly, you can get good bonds with no distortion.
One of the big problems with aluminum is that it has a 6% volume change on solidification. It will tend to distort on you much more severely than steel — steel's like two and a half percent. So even though aluminum is lower melting, you get tremendous distortion problems when you're fusion welding. When friction stir welding came along, NASA was pushing it — one of my students who worked at NASA gave me this sample. Boeing spent $10 million on a friction stir welding machine for some aircraft wing component attachments. You have to have big heavy fixturing because you're basically just forging things under very high pressure while spinning. There's been a lot of research done on friction stir welding in the last 20 years, partly because it is a new process.
§3. Explosive bonding and clad pressure vessels [05:47]
I mentioned explosive bonding at the end last time, and how it was discovered back in the days of World War II. Someone shot at a ship or a tank, and when everything was done, big flat surfaces that had not been bonded were all of a sudden stuck together.
You start with a base plate — might be four or five inch thick steel, typical for a clad vessel application. Because you can't afford to use titanium for, let's say, concentrated sulfuric acid in a chemical plant. All the gasoline we make is basically made using concentrated sulfuric acid as a catalyst.
There are only two materials you can use to hold concentrated sulfuric acid. One's graphite, and they make graphite vessels for it. What's the problem with a graphite pressure vessel? Graphite's brittle. When the thing goes boom and it's full of sulfuric acid, it's not a good day. Titanium is the other material, and titanium is great except it costs about the same price as silver. So you tend not to like to use 100% titanium. But you don't need very much — it's completely resistant to the sulfuric acid.
You take a titanium plate and a base plate, clean both surfaces, put a little buffer plate in there, an explosive, and lay it down against the anvil. The anvil is usually something like a granite mountain — nothing very sophisticated. They may put a great big steel plate on top of a granite mountain. They do it at a certain angle, typically 10 to 15 degrees depending on the material. They detonate it, and an explosive doesn't just go boom all at once — it actually burns from one end to the other. With a high-speed camera you can see it burning. It just burns very fast. It pushes this plate down, and you create a little shock wave at the interface. You actually get enough high pressure that you create a jet. People have modeled this — I don't know if they've ever taken high-speed movies — but you're breaking up that surface right at the impact angle point, and you're creating new surface and slamming it together so fast that it can't recontaminate.
[Tom shows the welding handbook figure of the explosive bonding process.] Here's a nice pictorial view from the welding handbook, showing the burning and slamming down. Then you take the stuff and flatten it, cut it, roll it, and weld it up into a pressure vessel.
Student: Does the explosive bonding affect the base metal?
It doesn't affect the base metal because it's really just where these two things are coming together — within three or four thousandths of an inch — that you're disturbing the metal. If you look for how deeply you created new dislocations and changed the microstructure, it's about 100 microns. The rest of the base material doesn't even know it. It's just a great big anvil. One way to think about it: if you take the deformation processing course, if you have an indenter on a great big thick piece of steel, the indentation is 2R across and the deformation zone is about 4R across. If you're doing a hardness test, the amount of material that you deform goes out about another distance from either side and down about a similar distance. The whole deformation zone is probably only the size of a pencil lead — a very thin layer where you're deforming the material.
§4. Transition joints, the Sheffield, and thermite welding [11:15]
Another application is to make plates that bond aluminum and steel together. [Tom shows a three-ply transition joint.] These are transition joints where you slammed aluminum against steel in an explosive bonding operation, then cut it up. This is what the Navy does for all the superstructures on their ships. The hull of the ship is made of steel because it needs to be inexpensive and have good capability against people shooting at it. The superstructure — the top of the ship — needs to be lightweight, or the ship will tip over in a storm. So they have a steel base plate and put one of these transition joints in. This one happens to be a three-ply: carbon steel to aluminum, with one of these transition plugs.
The only problem is you've now put a galvanic couple of aluminum and iron into a seawater environment, and it corrodes just great. There are theories — there are disputes about this — but I told you about the Exocet missile that hit the Sheffield. This was before most of you were born, but those of us living in the early '80s remember. The Argentinians decided to take over the Falkland Islands, which are off the coast of South America, off the coast of Argentina. Argentina claims them, but the British have had them from when the British Empire ruled the world and the sun never set on it. They call them the Falklands, which is a Scottish name, and the Argentinians call them something else. In the early '80s the Argentinians decided that Britain was now a third-world country, so far away they couldn't fight a war in the Argentinians' backyard. They invaded the Falklands. This is sort of the same thing going on now between China and Japan over little islands — these things get to be important because underneath them you have oil deposits.
The British decided they didn't like this and went to war to get the Falklands back. They were ultimately successful. But in the whole thing, the Argentinians fired an Exocet missile. Exocet missiles are not that big — I don't know that I could lift one, but they're probably within my wingspan. It hit the British cruiser Sheffield. A cruiser is a pretty big naval ship, and it wiped it out. Not because the Exocet missile wiped it out, but one of the theories is it set the aluminum on fire. Aluminum burns really well. Magnesium burns really well too — that's what most of the fireworks are. Some fireworks have aluminum; flares are magnesium powder and aluminum powder. They give off tremendous heat of combustion. It's very hard to ignite aluminum, but it can be done.
There's a process called thermite welding. It's been around since we had cheap aluminum, over a hundred years ago. You take aluminum powder, mix it with iron oxide — just looks like sand — take a blasting cap, ignite it, and the aluminum reduces the iron oxide to molten iron and aluminum oxide. Just an exchange reaction. The aluminum steals the oxygen from the iron, leaves behind iron plus a lot of heat. You get about 2,000 degrees centigrade out of this. They actually use this to weld steel rails together.
I went down to Rosendale once about 30 years ago to watch this. The MBTA was welding two train tracks together. It's a very simple process. You take this mixture of aluminum and iron oxide, put it in a steel bucket lined with firebrick. It's got a hole in the bottom, but the hole is plugged with a little piece of aluminum foil, actually maybe a 16th of an inch of aluminum sheet. You set up ceramic molds contoured to fit the sides of the railroad rails around the two tracks. You set the bucket on top, put the mixture in, set it off with a blasting cap, and stand back, because you've got the Fourth of July inside of there — sparks flying 10 feet in every direction. Hopefully you don't set fire to someone's lawn in Rosendale. Within 20 or 30 seconds you've built up enough iron that it melts through that aluminum plug, because aluminum melts at a fairly low temperature, and all this molten iron drops down and makes a little casting. We call it a thermite weld.
There are people who believe the World Trade Center didn't fail because the planes hit it, but because of a government plot — they actually set off thermite reactions inside and cut the beams in two. 18% of Americans apparently believe the US government destroyed the World Trade Center. It's called the 9/11 conspiracy theory. I'm a major foil for this because I wrote an article on the World Trade Center, why it collapsed. As of yesterday — there's something called 9/11 TV, and they sent me two DVDs and they want me to watch their theory. They look at the World Trade Center, see all these sparks coming out, and they say, see, that's proof of a thermite reaction. I said, when did they turn off the electricity in the building? Because if you have a fire and two electrical conductors with four megawatts of electrical power behind them touch each other, you'll get a shower of sparks too. All these things they say are proof usually have another explanation. But I've been listening to this for years on the World Trade Center.
§5. Tube sheet bonding and the pressure-welding regime [18:58]
Explosive bonding has found a lot of niche applications. One is building tube sheets. All the utilities have great big heat exchangers in their power plants. They have a great big tube sheet — could be 10 inches thick steel. They drill a bunch of holes, anywhere from 3/4 inch to a quarter inch, and put tubes in them. One of these tube sheets could be the size of this room — a big circular disc, 10 inches thick steel, with 10,000 holes in it. Each pipe might be 100 feet long. That's going to be one end of a great big heat exchanger. You flow water through, generate steam in your nuclear reactor or coal-fired plant, and transfer heat through your turbine to generate electricity.
For each of those 10,000 pipes going through the tube sheet, you need a joint between the tube sheet and the pipe so you don't get water leaking out. If you don't get a good seal, you get crevice corrosion over time. One of these heat exchangers costs $50 million, so you don't like to have them corrode on you. Sometimes they just do an arc weld up at the top, but that takes forever to make 10,000 welds. One thing that seals very quickly: they taper the holes, put a charge in, have the tube inside, and a detonation. They slam it against there at the proper angle of 10 or 15 degrees and make an explosion weld of the tube to the tube sheet. You can make an explosion weld without getting macroscopic shear to break down asperities. On the microscopic 100-micron level you're deforming that material and getting tremendous surface roughness and blowing the contamination out in these jets that form at the interface. So that's explosive welding, discovered in World War II but now used for lots of other things.
There really are only about six orders of magnitude of pressure variation that we deal with in structural welding: from fixturing two pieces next to each other, to diffusion bonding, to cold welding, to explosive welding. There's only so many megapascals we're going to use squeezing things together. You can push, you can shear these things and try to get rid of asperities, but you have to get metal contact in enough time to keep the air from coming back in to contaminate the surface.
§6. The Langmuir and the speed of contamination [22:20]
Does anyone know how long it takes for air to contaminate a surface? If I were to break a piece of chalk, how long would it take that freshly formed surface to get contaminated by air and CO₂ and moisture? There are lots of oils in the air. Anybody know why? Trees give off oil, plants give off oils — they're sort of always raining a little bit of residue. You ever wonder why your glasses get this little oily film on them after a day or two? There are all kinds of things we're breathing all the time — contamination, if you will, in the air.
There's a guy, Irving Langmuir, who won the Nobel Prize working for General Electric. Edison had invented the incandescent light bulb, but they didn't last very long — less than 10 hours, which was getting kind of pricey. Anybody know what material Edison used before tungsten? Carbonized horsehair. He'd carbonize the hair, end up with a graphite filament. The carbonized horsehair might last an hour before it would vaporize. They learned tungsten would last longer.
Anyone ever break an incandescent light bulb? It goes pop. Anybody know why? There's about half an atmosphere of argon in there. You don't make it a full atmosphere when it's cold, because when you turn the bulb on you'd get positive pressure as the gas expands, and you don't want to crack your bulb from internal pressure. In the early days they were just pulling a vacuum to keep the tungsten from oxidizing. Langmuir was a great surface scientist, and he studied the evaporation of metals. If you evaporate tungsten into a vacuum, it evaporates very quickly. But with half an atmosphere of argon atoms, as the tungsten tries to evaporate, the tungsten atom hits an argon atom and gets pushed back down. You can slow down your vaporization rate by a factor of 100. A tungsten filament in vacuum might get you a 10-hour life; with half an atmosphere of argon you'll get a hundred-hour or thousand-hour life. So Langmuir won the Nobel Prize while working at General Electric research.
They named the time to form a surface layer of contamination after Langmuir. A Langmuir is equal to about 10⁻⁸ atmosphere-seconds. What this means is, at one atmosphere it takes 10⁻⁸ seconds for a monolayer of oxygen or water vapor or whatever is in the air to hit the surface. So if I want to stick these two pieces of chalk back together after I break them, I have to keep them in perfect registry — the roughness has to match up. If it's a brittle material it should match up, but I better not change the angular orientation by even a millionth of a degree. And I have to stick them back together within 10⁻⁸ seconds or less.
People have done this experiment. Under ultra-high vacuum they took gold surfaces, polished them, and stuck them together. They had to be at something like 10⁻¹² atmospheres so they could create that surface and stick it back together, and they had 10, 15, 20 seconds before contamination. In most of the world where we live, it's hard to stick things back together quickly enough. What's going on in explosive bonds is that you're not necessarily sticking it back together within 10⁻⁸ seconds, but you have other materials — gases — that get pushed out of the way, that don't contaminate or aren't strongly absorbed. Generally, you can't beat the speed of gas. The Langmuir will usually kill you in terms of evaporation.
§7. Graphite, diamond, and the Mercury program [27:38]
I'm going to give you an example where NASA found out, in the very early days of the space program, that things didn't work in ultra-high vacuum. [Tom puts up a slide of graphite and diamond structures.] I'm actually trying to prove to you that you already knew some of these things, you just had to put them together. We have carbon atoms in two configurations: sp³ hybrid tetrahedral bonds, and sp² triangular bonds forming a hexagonal close-packed structure — graphite versus diamond. Very different properties because the bonding is different. In sp³ we have no free electrons — four orbitals, two electrons per orbital, stable octet. In sp² we've got three orbitals; six electrons are taken care of, and there are another two electrons. There are bonds, but they're not localized, and those electrons can run around on the basal planes. With diamond, those strong covalent bonds give you no free electrons — it's transparent, light goes right through. Carbon is black because the free electrons absorb light. Same with electrical conductivity versus insulation.
There's a guy named Kittel who was an MIT undergraduate physicist. John Wulff — who had my office back when I was a student, or I have his office, however you want to say it — told me a Kittel story. Kittel, when he was an undergraduate here, wrote a book on solid state physics that used to be used when I was a student studying materials. He once told John Wulff that if he knew the position of every electron in the solid, he could tell you all the properties of that material. In many cases you don't really care what the ions are at the core — whether it's iron or cobalt. You care about them in the sense that they control where the electrons are, but it's actually the electrons that give you the properties. You can see that if you just compare the properties going down.
Graphite is a lubricant; diamond is an abrasive. Diamond is an abrasive because it's hard — three-dimensional structure. Why is graphite a lubricant? It turns out NASA found out, to their chagrin, that graphite is a lubricant because these basal planes tend to be sites to absorb carbon dioxide and oxygen as a surface film layer. There's a surface energy associated with the basal plane, and a surface energy associated with diamond, but diamond's is isotropic because the crystal structure is symmetric. Graphite is not symmetric — you have very anisotropic properties.
What happened is they used graphite as the lubricant in the early Mercury space shots. When they went up into space and got down to very low pressures, like 10⁻¹⁰ atmospheres, you could strip the oxygen and CO₂ off the basal planes of the graphite. Now you have carbon bonds between the graphite particles, and those are very strong bonds. All of a sudden it was like putting diamond powder into your journal that's supposed to be a lubricant. The astronauts are up there, and the knobs are sticking, and all kinds of things are going wrong. Which is why we tended to just send people up as a little arc into the Atlantic. The Soviets, on the other hand, sent Yuri Gagarin up, and he got to take three trips around the earth before he came down. They didn't care as much. We sent up a dog first — or maybe they sent up a dog first. In any case, it's a different value of safety and risk in the two cultures.
Because of that, NASA got very interested in cold welding, and actually started funding research. [Tom holds up a reprint of the 1967 ASM volume.] This is Adhesion or Cold Welding of Materials in Space Environments — 1967 was when they held the conference. Alan Shepard was the first American in space in 1959 or so, and eight years later they're having a conference on how things stick together in space. Things do stick differently in a vacuum than they do with contaminated air.
[Tom shows the chart from the ASM volume.] Out of that book is this handy little chart. You can look at altitude in hundreds of thousands of feet. Here's Sputnik 1. Here's pressure in millimeters of mercury, in microns. Density. Mean free path in miles — 100 miles between atoms when you're up at the apogee of Sputnik 1. The mean free path is how far atoms go before colliding with another one, not how far apart they are. Impingement rate, time to form a monolayer — here's your good old Langmuir, up here at sea level somewhere around 10⁻⁸, 10⁻⁹ atmosphere-seconds.
§8. Surface energy: metals versus everything else [34:44]
Surface energy becomes important in all this cold welding. How strongly bonded are the impurities to the surfaces? We can get some feel for that by looking at surface energies. This comes out of Arthur Adamson's book Physical Chemistry of Surfaces. It's now in its sixth edition, and his co-author for the sixth edition was Alice Gast. Anybody know who Alice Gast is? She was assistant Provost at MIT. She came from Caltech, I think. She's now president of Lehigh University. I guess she was probably one of Adamson's students.
[Tom blows up a section of the table.] Water at 20°C, room temperature, has a surface energy of 73 dynes per centimeter. That's also the same units as ergs per square centimeter — if you do surface energy as a force, it's dynes per centimeter; divide by another centimeter, you get ergs per square centimeter. Surface energy per unit area, but they put it as dyne-centimeters. Going down through the table, organic liquids have surface energies of less than 100 dynes per cm. Hydrocarbons like heptane, octane are down around 20.
On the other side, here are some liquid-vapor surface energies. Liquid helium has surface energy less than one dyne. Cryogenic gases have very low surface energies, and we'll explain that. Metals have some pretty interesting surface energies — on the order of 500 or more. Salts are back around 100. High-melting metals, not low-melting ones like mercury, get up to almost 2,000 ergs per square cm.
It turns out 1,000 ergs per square cm equals 1 joule per m². There are 10⁻⁷ ergs per joule; with 10⁴ cm² in a square meter and converting through, the conversion is that a thousand ergs is equal to a joule. So metals are somewhere around a joule per square meter, whereas most other things are significantly lower.
Why is that? Metals have — we talked about bond energies before, and we said primary bonds are 1 to 3 electron volts per atom. But metals are unique because their bonds are non-localized. Covalent bonds and ionic bonds have a range of about one atomic distance — by two atomic distances away they've really dropped off. This is average bond energy versus intermolecular distance, in nanometers. By two angstroms away, for covalent and ionic, I'm way down. At one and a half angstroms I get lots of attraction. As I decay further away, ionic materials react to the atom next to them; the second nearest neighbor they don't care about. Very insular — they're hermits. Covalent bonds usually the same way. Metallic bonds have significantly greater range — several atomic distances away — with lower overall peak energy.
Believe it or not, the area under this curve and the area under that curve are the same. Anybody know why? You'd have to do this on a square basis — if you're going out in a cylindrical system, you have to multiply by R dR. If you take the area under the metallic curve, it's similar. This is 1 to 3 electron volts, and that's 1 to 3 electron volts, even though it doesn't look like it in one dimension. On an area basis, primary bonds have about the same energy. Hydrogen bonds and van der Waals bonds stretch out further but are much weaker.
§9. Surface energy, fluxes, and the path to soldering and brazing [40:56]
If we do a model of surface energy — if I have a bunch of atoms in a crystal, I'll have some unsatisfied bonds at the surface, and those unsatisfied bonds are what lead to surface energy. Surface energy is always positive. It cannot be negative. If surface energy were to go negative, the solid or liquid would become a gas. Why? If the thing doesn't want a bond — which means the bond between A atoms and A atoms is less favorable than being non-bonded — it's going to become a gas spontaneously. It will vaporize.
Even at the melting point or vaporization point, there's usually still some positive surface energy, because of entropy effects. If the thing didn't want to bond, it wouldn't be a condensed phase — wouldn't be a solid or a liquid. Unsatisfied bonds represent a higher energy state in the material. Think of this thermodynamically — you're all material scientists here, course three, right? An unsatisfied bond is a higher energy state. So surface energy is always positive.
[Tom sketches a stearate molecule at the surface.] Down here I've got a carbon dioxide molecule, an O₂, and something like a stearate — like soap, with a polar end that attaches to the metal, and a non-polar tail. Stearate soaps are long hydrocarbon chains with a polar end. Oleates, stearates, all these things. So why are metallic surface energies so much higher? For ionic and covalent, the surface energy comes from just the top two layers — more than two atomic distances away, that curve drops off. For metallic, these free non-localized electrons give us bond contributions from greater distances. The number of electrons involved in the surface energy is greater by a factor of two or three, and therefore metals have surface energies two or three times higher.
Now you know why metals have high surface energies. It's very valuable that they do, because in soldering and brazing we're going to take advantage of that to allow ionic or covalent liquids, which we use as fluxes, to clean the surface. Remember my theme: two things prevent bonding — contamination and surface roughness. I've been talking about cold welding, but what we're going to get out of pressure welding — ultrasonic, friction, explosive, thermocompression — we'll come back to thermocompression when we deal with electronics. I've got to get rid of surface contamination. I can do that with a flux — usually a molten salt, something with relatively low surface energy. It goes across the surface, takes the oxides and CO₂ and oil, and cleans the surface.
Then I want to interpose a liquid metal that will thermodynamically displace the lower-surface-energy organic or inorganic liquid. Metals like to bond to metals because they have similar bonding types. Their interfacial energy is lower because they're more satisfied having another metal atom on the surface than a non-metal atom. So that's actually a third thing about bonding — strength of bonds and surfaces. It's not just surface roughness and surface contamination — some people say similar bonding types too. Metal-metal bonds are going to be stronger than metal-ceramic bonds, whether covalent or ionic. I'm going to take advantage of that when I go into soldering and brazing, which is what we'll do tomorrow.