§1. The productivity problem with continuous casting [00:05]
Anybody have any questions from before? We've been talking about casting, and we're trying to impart geometry, structure, and homogeneity. Last time I spent a lot of time on continuous casting. The problem with continuous casting is that it's a process that's too productive. A big plate-mill continuous caster, where you're casting something six or eight feet wide and ten inches thick, will probably do three to five million tons a year. There aren't that many places that need or have that much hot metal to cast that amount of material.
So there's only so many big continuous casters you can tolerate in the world. You can make small continuous casters. [Tom passes around a section of continuous-cast copper bar.] This is a piece of copper that was cast from a continuous caster about half the size of this room. It's not very big. You can make bar — I think this was inch-and-three-eighths diameter originally — and they were just going to turn it into electrical wire. There's lots of electrical wire, so you can cast this, it comes out at a few inches a minute, and if you draw it into wire, that's a lot of miles of wire. But you've got a lot of one product.
In certain industries like automotive, where you have lots of volume, you can use a continuous production mode. But for most things, you can't absorb that much of one thing. With continuous casting we're producing simple geometries — rods or plates. The I-beam caster I showed you is about two or three times the size of this room. A big plate caster in a steel mill is half the size of this main complex of buildings. So there's all kinds of different sizes depending on what you're trying to do.
The other thing about casting is, as you get to larger sizes — much more than a foot in diameter — you're talking about hours to extract the heat of fusion. Sometimes we like to cast things very thin. If you cast paper-thin, you actually can make it extremely homogeneous; you can make it essentially as a glass. I used to have some rapidly solidified amorphous metal sheets — I couldn't find them today — but we'll talk about that. So there's everything in between, and it depends on what people are trying to do.
§2. Undercooling and semisolid processing [03:25]
Section size is one problem with extracting the heat of fusion. Another thing is undercooling. If you plot temperature versus time and you're extracting heat, the thing should solidify at the melting temperature. But in fact it won't nucleate — it may go down in temperature and remain a liquid below the melting point. When it finally does start to nucleate, the solid gives up the heat of fusion, so the thing heats back up. You get undercooling below the melting point because of the barrier to forming a nucleus. The solid has a certain surface energy, and you need a little energy differential, a delta T of undercooling, to form the first solid particles.
NASA spent all kinds of money on this, because it justified doing experiments in space — they wanted to prove that they could spend money in space and tell Congress it was science. The more you undercool, you'd like to get to the point where if the heat of fusion is less than the heat capacity times delta T, you could undercool, nucleate, and solidify the whole thing all at once, instantaneously. They've done that, but only for one element in the periodic table: phosphorus.
[Tom locates the phosphorus undercooling plot at the back of the deck.] This is a plot of melt supercooling, normalized so that delta T equals one corresponds to the heat of fusion. When you're below one on the normalized curve you're hypercooled — you've extracted more heat from the liquid than the heat of fusion. The reason we can do this with phosphorus is it doesn't have a very big heat of fusion; the delta T needed is on the order of 20°. The velocity of solidification gets fairly fast. You freeze very rapidly when you don't have to extract the heat of fusion.
One process developed at MIT extracts about half of the heat of fusion. This whole thing is called semisolid processing. What do we mean by semisolid? You ever had soft-serve ice cream? That's semisolid. It's about 30% liquid, 70% solid little ice crystals. You ever had a Slurpee at 7-Eleven? That's about 50/50, fifty percent ice, fifty percent liquid. Your Dairy Queen soft-serve ice cream is actually liquid and solid ice crystals together.
Back in 1970, Professor Flemings here had a student trying to do a fundamental study of solidification. The student wrote up his doctoral thesis, then went off for a couple of weeks of Army Reserve summer camp, and turned in his thesis thinking — back then you didn't have word processors — that Professor Flemings wouldn't have the heart to change very many things, and he'd come back and graduate. Well, Flemings looked at it and said, this isn't a doctoral thesis, and threw it back in his face. Start all over again. At that point they changed the experiment, and a year later he ended up with what's called rheo casting — from rheology, the study of fluids.
They would cool the liquid down and stir it, just like you make soft-serve ice cream. They were doing this on lead-tin alloys, and they showed they could get unique structures, and they'd already extracted half the heat of fusion. They thought this would be great for die casting, where you inject metal into a solid mold under pressure. The problem in die casting is cycle time — you've got to hold the pressure until the thing solidifies. If you've already gotten half the heat of fusion out, you can cut your cycle time in half.
So in high-pressure die casting there's this whole technology: rheo casting, where it's a slurry; thixo casting, where you freeze it hard but create a structure such that when you heat it back up you get a rheocast structure; and thixo molding, where you end up with something soft, and using dies at the same temperature you can mold a shape — kind of like playing with Play-Doh. That was all developed here at MIT. I was the student who helped the guy finish his first thesis. I left after he got back from summer camp, so my name is not on the patent. I was an undergraduate grunt for him. If I'd stayed working for him another six months, I would have been a patentee.
This is also an example of MIT's big mistake in patent technology. They licensed it to a company that sat on the patent for about 10 or 15 years and never did anything with the technology. This is actually why MIT changed its whole patent position in the mid-1980s. Now, if they license a patent to a company, they have march-in rights — if you don't do anything with it, they take the license back and give it to somebody else. This technology lost about 10 or 15 years because they licensed it to a company that didn't want to see it come to market — it was competition for them. So the company licensed it to keep it out of the marketplace. MIT learned their lesson.
MIT didn't make any money; other people made a lot of money. Today there are a lot of automotive parts made by rheo casting. If you have a fancy Canon single-lens reflex, it has a magnesium body — a black camera body, but inside is a very thin-walled magnesium housing. That's rheocast. If you've extracted half the heat of fusion, you've gotten rid of half the shrinkage, so you can make thinner-wall parts.
§3. Shrinkage, risers, and chill blocks [12:57]
So in casting we're trying to impart some shape, and we've got this problem with shrinkage. To cast a part like this, you may have to have a mold that's three times as high. If you just cast into a sand mold — quite often for steel or cast iron we use sand, silica sand, as people have for thousands of years — you form the shape of the part, but you have to pour in extra metal. Initially you pour liquid all the way to the top, but because of shrinkage you get this pipe. It looks worse than it is — if this is a cylindrical part, the void volume in the center is small as you're shrinking the radius down to zero. But you can end up with a pipe that's deeper than the actual casting.
If you put a chill block in here, so that you extract a lot more of your heat from the bottom, you can get rid of a lot of that pipe. The volume out here at a large radius is much greater than the volume in there — it's r dA. If you cooled entirely from the bottom, you'd push all your shrinkage up to the top and have a very flat surface across.
By putting chill blocks into the sand mold you can change the amount of rising in the casting. In the foundry industry, this thing above the actual part is called the riser. You're going to cut the riser off and send it back to be remelted. With chill blocks you don't have to have anywhere near as tall a riser. They also put in hot tops or radiation shields on top, so you get more one-dimensional heat flow. With a chill block you have a shorter riser; with a hot top you can have a very small riser; with a radiation shield you can get things very flat. You can change the cooling on these complex shapes by playing all kinds of games.
Today computers are fast enough to calculate these things. Twenty-five years ago people couldn't — it was too complex a problem because the heat of fusion gives you a step in one of the properties. For the mathematicians among you, if you plot enthalpy versus temperature, as the metal heats up it gets to the melting point and you have a step which is the heat of fusion. The slope of enthalpy versus temperature is the heat capacity. The solid and liquid have slightly different slopes because their heat capacities differ.
This discontinuity is called the Stefan problem, after the mathematician Stefan — Stefan-Boltzmann constant, Planck radiation, Stefan did work on that. The discontinuity creates a problem for the computer jocks. Computers were not powerful enough 25 or 30 years ago to handle that problem well. Today they can handle it, though it's still a lot of computation when you have an isothermal hold. There are lots of things people do to improve heat flow and address undercooling — rheo casting is another.
§4. Investment casting and the single-crystal turbine blade [17:58]
One of the most complex casting processes is investment casting. We make some of our most sophisticated parts this way even today. In the old days it was known as lost wax casting, and it's been used for about 3,000 years. If you can make a part out of wax — you can carve wax. I made my wedding bands originally, for my wife and myself, by lost wax casting. I turned some wax on a lathe, took it up to a dental shop where they make little bridges for people's teeth, and they had a lost wax caster. I paid the guy 20 bucks and gave him the platinum alloy I was making — he didn't have that in stock. He cast a bunch of wedding bands for me. I have a couple of spares. I figured as we got older we'd gain weight and our fingers would get fatter, so I made them in different sizes.
In lost wax casting, you make a wax part. Today we have a permanent mold which you can machine to some complex shape, and you inject wax in there — you can do all this at less than 200° Fahrenheit. You pop the wax part out. You take wax rods and weld these little parts to other wax. You go into one of these shops and you'll see — this is hand work, and women do better with hand work than men — they take little hot knives and they weld wax to wax. They'll make a little Christmas tree of parts with a riser, or sprue. This is inverted upside down; you'll eventually flip it over and pour the metal in.
Initially you dip it into a very fine slurry of a ceramic powder. It literally looks like flour, mixed with alcohol or something. [Tom holds up a brass rat class ring.] This is the big brass rat — my class ring. It's lost wax cast. Any of your class rings were also lost wax cast, or what we call today investment casting. Because you're going to take the wax part and invest it in a layer of ceramic, then put another layer of coarser ceramic on top, and make a porous shell.
You complete your mold, still with the wax inside. You stick it in an oven, melt the wax out — you can recover it, make candles out of it, whatever. Then you put the ceramic shell in a furnace and heat it up to bond the powders together. This might be a 2000°F furnace. The first layer was that very fine flour. On my latest brass rat you can read "Massachusetts Institute of Technology" across it. Even on the one that fits on my hand, with a magnifier you can read all the letters of MIT going across. With a fine enough flour you can get very good detail.
You take it out of the furnace, put it in a can, pour loose sand around it for structural stability. You pour your metal in, let it solidify, knock the ceramic off — it's just trash now — and there's your casting. It's lost wax — you lost the wax from the mold. That's why it's called investment casting.
[Tom holds up a single-crystal turbine blade, cut in section.] And that's how we start to make these $6,000 turbine blades. When they do it, they have a little ceramic mold the shape of the inside of this thing — this one's been cut in two so you can see inside. When Pratt and Whitney sold this, it would have been a solid part. They make it by investment casting and they end up with a polycrystalline grain.
Then they take the polycrystalline structure, while it still has its core inside, and cool it very slowly in a temperature-gradient furnace. The furnace is about the size of this room, costs about a million or $3 million. You can make maybe 16 of these at a time. Pratt and Whitney and GE make about 16 at a time; Rolls-Royce makes four at a time. Rolls-Royce likes to have better control in a smaller furnace. It takes six or seven hours to cool very slowly from the bottom. You pull it through a gradient furnace — an induction-heated furnace, typically — that may be 50° below the melting point at the bottom and 50° above at the top, so over two or three inches you have a 100° Centigrade gradient. Pull it through slowly, it grows from the bottom, you push all your shrinkage ahead, and you end up with a perfect part if you're lucky.
The $6,000 blades are single crystals. They actually start with a little wax pigtail on the original casting — it's a quarter-screw spiral. When you slowly solidify, you start with a seed crystal that has a particular crystallographic orientation, because these things will be at high temperature and have greater high-temperature strength in a particular orientation. They start with a single crystal they already made, oriented by X-ray diffraction, and it goes around the pigtail. If you get nucleation of multiple grains, as they curl around that pigtail three or four times you select out a single grain. So when you get up here it grows as a single crystal. You end up with a single-crystal turbine blade at $6,000 a piece, after all the metal finishing.
The holes in there are either laser or electron-beam drilled, or you can take a plunge EDM machine and plunge the holes in. In order to get high efficiency in the engine, you want cooling air through there. The engine is typically operating at 3000°F and above. The alloy melts at 2400°F. If you didn't cool it, your engine would melt. It's air-cooled — using compressor air from the turbine, which is about 1,000°. You're cooling with 1,000° air so you don't melt the blade, which melts at 2400 but can operate at about 2,000 in a nickel-based superalloy. It's actually a fairly safe system — if you lose your compressed air, you've lost your turbine anyway. The front end of the turbine is the compressor.
§5. Platinum, iridium, and the deep-space plutonium engine [27:32]
By investment casting we can make quite complex parts. [Tom shows a directionally solidified turbine blade.] This is one where they didn't do the seed crystal to make it single-crystal, but they grew it unidirectionally and ended up with columnar grains. It may not operate at quite as high a temperature, but the grain boundaries are oriented parallel to the primary stress direction. This is a spinning rotor, so the primary stress direction is radial. Grain boundaries are the weak part of the metal at high temperatures, so we orient them in the columnar growth direction.
Gas turbines really weren't developed until the 1940s. The V2 rockets were some of the first commercial turbines. The Germans had experimental jet aircraft at the very end of World War II. After the war we started building jets, and those engines used polycrystalline cast turbine blades, or blades machined out of wrought material. Up at General Electric in Lynn, where they build turbines for the military, you'll see machine tools taking solid chunks of steel and making compressor blades out of solid bars. When you get to the hot section with nickel-based alloys, they don't machine well — they're very difficult to machine — so they cast them. In the '50s they were equiaxed castings, lots of little crystals.
If you look at something cast normally as an ingot, you get some nuclei on the outside edge where you first poured into the cold mold. Then you get columnar dendritic grains heading in the direction of the walls as the heat flows out. The final stuff might be equiaxed. In the 1950s the standard turbine blade was just a multi-grain casting like my brass rat. By the 1960s people were learning to cool directionally, pulling through a gradient furnace. By the late '60s they were learning to make single crystals. By the '70s we had that technology. That blade's probably about a 1980-technology blade.
Today the walls are getting down as thin as 15 thousandths of an inch. The problem with going thinner — you've got a ceramic core in the middle while you're growing it — and if you get a little core shift of 5 or 10 thousandths, you've got no wall left. So they inspect these by putting them in a CAT scan machine. For a half million dollars you can buy a CAT scan machine for metals. You put the blade in after casting, get a full three-dimensional image inside and out, just like a CAT scan on your brain. They do 100% CAT scan, measure wall thickness, and hopefully scrap less than 30% of the production.
The single-crystal casting may be worth $11,000 in value added on the investment casting and molding. The alloy may be a couple of thousand, because nowadays we have up to 5 or 6% rhenium in those alloys, and rhenium is one of the Platinum Group Metals. I remember when I took my creep course from Professor Grant back in the 1970s — he'd been working on these alloys since the 1940s. He came in and said, if you're going to make a jet engine, what's the best material? Has good high-temperature strength, can operate higher than any nickel-base or cobalt-base alloy. We sat there and couldn't think of it. He said: platinum. Platinum melts at 1700° Centigrade. You could operate platinum at probably 3100, 3200°. If you made a platinum engine, you could get another one-third improvement in fuel efficiency by operating hotter. But platinum tends to be dense, so the stresses are up. It also happens to be a little pricey.
If you wanted to make a really fancy engine, you could use iridium. The problem is they only mine about 100 ounces of iridium a year in the world. But iridium doesn't melt until over 3000° Centigrade. You could build a 4,000° engine out of iridium. No one's ever built a jet engine out of it — but we have built iridium engines, I take that back. For these deep-space flights, when NASA is going out to Pluto or Saturn or Uranus, anybody know how they get their energy?
Student: Solar?
Solar, you don't have enough energy density. The sun's intensity goes off as r-squared, and it's a long way out there. I told you about the thermoelectric things, right? What's the heat source for a thermoelectric flyby? Some of these things take 15 years to go out there. They use plutonium. Plutonium's got a 40,000-year half-life or something. Long enough to go to Pluto.
Student: 10 to the eighth?
It depends on the isotope. Some are 10 to the eighth. Usually it dies down to a reasonable level of radiation after about 40,000 years, as I remember. That may be a couple of half-lives. It's longer than I need to wait. They take a thermoelectric generator — just a semiconductor — and you have to heat one side and cool the other. It's easy to cool things in deep space; just expose a radiator to the cold. You're only a few tens of degrees above absolute zero. On the other side you have a plutonium heat source. That plutonium is encased in an iridium shell — an iridium sphere that'll go to 3,000° Centigrade. They put plutonium in it, put it in a rocket, and shoot it up, and they hope the rocket doesn't fail and spread plutonium all over the Atlantic Ocean. That doesn't usually make the papers — that they're about to shoot nuclear-warhead material up into space. They don't do as many of those now, but it's a very big concern. The environmentalists would not be pleased if they knew you just dumped a couple of pounds of plutonium in the Atlantic.
Student: [How much plutonium?]
A couple pounds, I don't know exactly how much. Plutonium is pretty dense. If it's nuclear-warhead material, they call them the pits. I don't know exactly what critical size is, but they're not much bigger than a walnut. So they had built iridium engines, but plutonium was the fuel and iridium was just a shell. Iridium doesn't oxidize — it's Platinum Group.
§6. Sand casting and the size range of cast parts [36:39]
This is the ceramic core that goes inside one of those turbine blades you're going to cast; it gets etched out with acid afterwards. These are some compressor discs. And here's actually the rheocast technology — the finished casting. These are Professor Flemings' drawings, in a book now. I recognize this as the firing pin for a US Army M16. The Army gave them millions of dollars back in the 1970s to see if they could injection-mold semisolid steel. This is injection molding — you're pressing semisolid material into the cavity, and the cavity is that firing pin. It didn't work because you didn't have mold materials that could even take those temperatures. They could make 100 parts on one $100,000 mold — not exactly economical.
But they do make all kinds of aluminum, zinc, and brass parts by injection molding. We make all kinds of complex automotive parts by investment casting — fuel injectors and similar complex parts. [Tom holds up an investment-cast stainless steel part.] Anybody recognize this? It's stainless steel. They make another part that goes on the bottom, weld that on, then take it up to a belt sander to give it a nice finish, and you can read "Spalding" on it afterwards. Another investment-cast part.
Sand casting — you can make small parts. I could have brought in a cast-iron plumbing elbow, made by sand casting. You start out with two core boxes — these might be wooden molds — and you make them in two halves that go together. One's called the cope and one's called the drag. Drag is on the bottom, cope's on top. It's like book molds — sometimes they're called book molds in permanent mold casting. You put the two things together to give you a cavity.
You make a wooden or metal core part from these molds in the core box. You bury it in sand, on two layers — you've got the cope and the drag, with a piece of plywood between. You make two half parts and a cavity in the sand. Then you put them together, one on top and one on the bottom. You have a cavity the shape of your core halves, you pour the metal in, and you make your part.
We make things as cheap as a little cast-iron elbow you go to the hardware store and buy for 89 cents. If you buy in volume you get it for 29 cents. The Chinese make a lot of these — in little cupola furnaces. Not many people make them in the United States anymore. We also make brass this way, aluminum this way, all kinds of parts. Sand casting goes back thousands of years; they just poured into a hole in the ground.
[Tom holds up a rough cast lead or lead-bismuth piece.] Here, to show you a casting that was not much more — I just walked around the lab once about 20 years ago and found this. It's probably a lead or lead-bismuth alloy. You can see the crystals. Someone just scooped out some cavity in ceramic sand and poured it in. They were dumping leftover metal from a casting operation. I said, oh that's nice, it shows crystals.
You also can make big cast-iron parts the size of this room. If I have a generator rotor forging — we talked about generator rotor forgings yesterday — I have to have a housing to put it in. Once I take that steel rotor and wind it with copper, I need a housing to hold the other windings to make my big generator. That generator housing is about four or five inches thick cast iron, the size of a small house. There's a top and a bottom, and it's a big sand casting — just bigger than the little nipples you buy at the hardware store.
If you look at those nipples in the hardware store, you'll see a parting line on the final cast part — where the two molds came together. There's lots of different ways to cast for shape.
[Tom shows a piece with very large grains.] This is not a casting, but it shows large grains. This was originally part of a superconducting microwave cavity for particle accelerators. Then we used it as a susceptor in an induction furnace, and that's how it got these huge grains — a centimeter across. Then someone used it as an ashtray for a while. I picked it up in the lab once.
[Tom holds up a zinc ingot.] Here's some zinc ingot. Just like pig iron — there's actually a zinc blast furnace, not quite as big as the iron one. It may only be two or three stories tall rather than 30, because we don't make as much zinc. It comes out like pig in the sand bar — though in this case probably cast in a metal mold. I don't know if this says "New Jersey Zinc." Someone broke it with a hammer and you can see the columnar grains from the metal mold. So the way you extract the heat will determine your structure.
§7. The Attleboro continuous caster and the trolley wire case [44:31]
[Tom looks for the specialized-casting slides and can't locate them.] Let's take our break earlier and I'll find them. Come back in about 10 minutes.
[BREAK]
[Resuming after break.] They had copper lining all those tables up there, and they came in one morning and it was all gone — borrowed on the no-return plan. Copper is worth a lot of money. We had that when they were redoing this classroom about five or six years ago. There are copper pipes in the heating and cooling system. I came in one morning — I get in early — and someone was talking about how they had lost $8,000 worth of copper pipe, which nowadays is not that much because copper prices have gone way up. They said they didn't know who did it. I said, I've got a surveillance camera in the hall. If you look at the fire door down there, just down from my office, I put in a surveillance camera that watches my office door and the lab door. We never look at it unless we have a reason. We had a reason — they had lost all the copper. So I asked Don Galler, the tech who took care of the camera — he's an electrical engineer, he put it in — to go look. There we had a beautiful picture of one of the contractors who'd brought the stuff in, coming back during off-hours to take it home. They filed suit against him; he lost his job.
Okay, getting back to casting technology. One of the advantages of continuous casting is you don't have to cut off a riser. All the shrinkage gets pushed to one end. In a big steel mill, if you're making that casting for three months — how many miles? — you only have one hot top to throw away, rather than thousands. You go from like a 65% yield up to over 90% within a few years. Yield in a steel mill is how many pounds of steel you sell out of how many you cast. So if you cast 100 pounds and sell 65, you've got a 65% yield. As they learned to make alloy grades and other things, they're up around 97% continuous cast in the steel mill now.
There are two continuous casters right down here in Attleboro. I used to work with a company that uses more gold than any company in the country. They have two continuous casters. In the case of gold, you want as little scrap as possible, so it pays to have a continuous caster even though you may only cast something 12 feet long — a bar of karat gold maybe six feet long. If you only have to cut off one little 2-inch hot top instead of 20 or 30, it pays for itself, even though a little caster like that might be 5 or 10 million bucks.
Those casters are a lot busier than they used to be when I started working there 30 years ago, because now they have the contract from the US Mint to make gold-coin blanks. The Mint is making — Sacagawea, the dollar. I guess it's plated with gold on one surface. They have the contract to make all the blanks sent to the Mint for stamping. So they're nice and busy. And of course when you're making that much, you can use it. But they were using it even when they only made small amounts for jewelry.
We did make a 36-inch diameter, 3/4-inch-thick gold coin when I was working there in the 80s for the Vancouver World's Fair. We cast 3/4-inch-thick, 6-inch-wide 14-karat gold bars, and then I had to weld them together without distortion to make a 36-inch diameter coin. They had this coin on display — like $4 or $5 million worth of gold. Of course they recovered it afterwards; it was just for display.
There are a few applications for making copper this way. Southwire is a firm somewhere south of Atlanta. The Southwire process — that's what I was trying to find earlier, I must have left the slide at my office. It's about a 6-foot-diameter copper wheel with a groove cut in it — like a great big railroad wheel. The edge has a mold cap, the rim about 2 or 3 inches wide.
The wheel goes around in circles. It's water-cooled to extract the heat of fusion. They have a steel band that goes around a roller forming the edge of the mold, so the cavity is between the wheel groove and the steel band. They pour copper in; the thing goes around slowly; it solidifies; and at the other end you chop off these big S-bars of copper. Southwire makes copper wire for overhead transmission lines and all kinds of things.
There aren't a lot of those in the world because we don't need that much copper wire — and ever since fiber optics, we need a lot less. Back in the '70s you could plot the price of a penny. They used to make pennies out of copper. They were plotting the price of copper and knew that sometime in the early 80s it was going to cost more than a penny — there'd be more than a penny's worth of copper in a copper penny. That would not be a good thing; people would melt down pennies to get copper. So they developed the current penny.
Anybody know what the current penny is? It's zinc with a copper plating. I always thought, this should have big corrosion problems, but they worked it out. They wanted something cheaper, and zinc costs about a tenth the amount of copper. Nowadays the zinc penny is getting to the point where it costs the government more than a penny to produce. So they'd like to get rid of pennies, but anyway.
The Southwire process — 6-foot-diameter wheel turning out about 2-and-1/2 inch diameter S-shaped bars. You roll it into a rod and then draw it into wire. It'll produce a lot of copper for the world.
There's one other application for copper in continuous casting. Up in Burlington Vermont you'll find the Hazelett company. They take a big wide steel band on rollers, water-cooled with a water spray on the backside. They have another steel band coming in like this, and they pour molten copper between them. Sheets of copper come out, water-cooled on both sides, about 2 inches thick and 3 feet wide. The steel band's about an eighth of an inch thick.
Why do we do this for copper? Copper has very high thermal conductivity. It's easier to extract the heat of fusion in thicker sections, and in this case they can use thin steel bands. It's a real mess if you break one of these bands — you have molten copper in contact with water, and you generate steam and explosions. You have to know how to do it.
What are all these copper sheets for? It turns out every copper mine that wants to make really good copper makes copper with a lot of impurities and then goes through an electroplating process. These are copper anodes. They take big sheets of copper made by the Hazelett process, full of oxide and impurity, and electroplate to make electrolytic copper — ETP copper, electrolytic tough pitch.
If you go through a copper plant — there's one in Reading Pennsylvania I went through once; I had a student do a thesis down there. They use green tree trunks with lots of sap. The way you get the oxygen out of the molten copper is you throw a big tree trunk into the bath. It creates a boil as all the hydrocarbons from the trunk burn off. It's called poling the bath, because you're using a telephone pole to stick in the bath. You get this froth — the hydrocarbons are deoxidizing the copper bath. I think the "tough pitch" comes from the pitch resins in the trunk. I'm not sure that's true but I seem to remember it from years ago. Some of this is sort of ancient technology.
Student: How long do the steel bands last? Do you replace them every so often?
Every couple of days. They know approximately how long they last. It's actually a titanium-bearing steel. They've done a lot of work on these. I went up to the Hazelett plant once — that's probably why they invited me up. The Hazelett folks have been trying to make thin steel strip using their process. But you can't put steel on steel. Steel doesn't have the thermal conductivity of copper, so it stays hot longer and you wear out your bands. You can't run a little laboratory-scale version of these; you have to run one that's 3 feet wide. So it's expensive.
People have been trying to make continuously cast steel strip for 50 years and no one's really been able to do it. They still make it as a 10-inch continuously cast plate and roll it down. There's a lot of steel sheet used in the world, and if you could start with quarter-inch-thick strip, it'd be worth billions of dollars. Lots of people have tried and no one's been successful. It's hard. With copper you're working with something that melts at 2,000°F. With steel you're at 2600°F. That last 600° makes things a lot harder, particularly when you're just using a steel band and there's nothing else. The nickel-base alloys — the turbine blade — melt at a lower temperature than steel. So use an iridium band — yeah, 100 ounces of iridium in the world each year, about $1,000 an ounce. Or a platinum band, $1,000 an ounce, and there's a lot more platinum. A rhodium band, $3,000 an ounce. Yes, you probably can — but no one's done it yet.
So there's a limit to continuous casting, and part of the problem is, it's too productive.
§8. Segregation, microstructure, and the Stefan-like concentration jump [64:42]
Now let's talk a little about structure in casting. The heat transfer across the interface — this is an interesting plot in terms of distance. This is steel, solid steel; this is liquid iron-carbon alloy. We have the composition of the liquid, and we have a big drop as we go across. When you get to the interface, you go from the composition of carbon in the liquid to the composition of carbon in the solid. It's sort of like the Stefan problem — not a temperature discontinuity, but a concentration discontinuity. What you start out solidifying is not the composition of what you end up solidifying. Liquid and solid don't have the same concentration. That's a function of the phase diagram.
How many of you have never seen a phase diagram before? You've all seen one, somewhere in your Navy training. A phase diagram is nothing more than a plot of temperature versus composition — in this case, carbon. This is the steel diagram. At high temperatures you have liquid. These are your cast irons over here; these are cast steels up here. This is a peritectic reaction, we don't need to get into the details. The point is the composition of the liquid is richer in carbon than the composition of the solid. This is a two-phase region; this is the gamma phase. That's generally true for any alloy. Pure copper, pure aluminum — you don't have to worry. But any binary alloy, you generally have a liquid that's richer in one component than the solid. That means you get segregation.
So back to our challenges. We've talked about shrinkage and how we can use continuous casting, risers, or chill blocks. We've talked about extracting the heat of fusion — for really big things you wait hours or days. For very thin things, we'll talk about rapid solidification where we freeze at a million degrees per second and get paper-thin material. With a two-phase alloy, we actually get the liquid separating to a higher concentration than the solid, because of this kind of phase diagram.
[Tom points to a binary phase diagram on the slide.] This is liquid, this is one solid, this is another solid. I'll always have a liquid that's higher in concentration than the solid. This is the liquidus line, this is the solidus. As something cools down through lower temperatures, I get a solid forming, but I get coring. With this etchant you can see different colors. The liquid that forms gets a core around a rich alpha phase.
If you look at a real structure, this is from one of my students' doctoral theses on stainless steel — he used a special etchant. You can see the concentration gradient of iron, nickel, and chrome. The fairly white core is the first FCC non-magnetic stainless steel to form, and it's roundish in cells. As it transformed on cooling, it rejected some chrome and nickel, and with this etch it etched a different color. Originally this is a color etchant — you see all kinds of rainbows; this is in black and white. You can see coring on a microscopic scale. It's not uniform in concentration. One of our goals was to get something homogeneous, with controlled structure. But depending on how we extract the heat of fusion we get very different structures, with segregation within the casting.
That segregation can be on a micro scale, like we see here, or on a macro scale, on the size of the whole casting. Here are a number of different stainless steel microstructures from John's thesis — six different stainless steel compositions. This one forms in the solid state. This is a structure from dendrites. These are remains of dendrites. You get all kinds of cast structures with different length scales — some very fine, some very coarse.
Instead of dendritic structures — dendrite comes from the Greek word for trees; turn it sideways, it's a tree with branches — you can also get cellular structure, where you have cells, and the black outlines are individual fingers of material growing as the heat's extracted.
Schematically, you actually form two different phases in some alloys, and you have cells of alpha and beta. In stainless steel, that could be cells of face-centered cubic and body-centered cubic iron. One would be magnetic, one non-magnetic — very different properties. That's the definition J. Willard Gibbs gave to a phase: uniform throughout in properties — not necessarily in composition, but in properties. So a phase is homogeneous in properties. When you have two phases, by definition it's not homogeneous, because each phase has its own properties; one might melt at a higher temperature.
In John's thesis, the ferrite has a higher melting point than the austenite. You get fingers of ferrite sticking out into the melt as you solidify. This is where you get a breakdown and instability called dendrites — little branches on the trees. This is cellular solidification. This is a type sometimes called the thicket — a very fine cellular structure. There are more cast structures in aluminum, copper, iron, nickel, titanium alloys than there really are wrought structures.
Here's a good picture — this is lead-tin, probably a Flemings picture; I think it was on the cover of his book. These are 20% directionally solidified dendrites growing into a lead matrix, or vice versa. The dendrites melt at a higher temperature. The darker liquid is here; the all-solidified stuff is there. Dendrites form in different ways.
In an ingot casting, the same initial nuclei form on the outside when you pour into the mold — fine grain. Then columnar grains, then dendrites may form in the center. Through all this you get fluid flow in the liquid as it cools. In a big casting this could take hours or days. The liquid gets enriched in one element. The first stuff that solidifies — in an ingot-cast rim steel — is very pure iron alloy on the surface. We got the best sheet properties from ingot-cast steel because the surface was very pure iron. The internal composition might be slightly different — for sheet you don't care, but for plate you did. So we have to worry about how we solidify.
Fluid flow is due to differences in buoyancy, partly from composition differences. Molybdenum is very heavy compared to steel. In an iron-moly alloy you can get tremendous segregation from differences in density. That's what we call macrosegregation.
Here's an ingot showing macrosegregation, marked with pluses and minuses. The alloying element is deficient down here, enriched up here. The segregation on the outside is called A segregation; the ones in the center are V segregation. It's basically due to fluid flow — flow among the dendrites, between the solid limbs of the casting alloy. It's messy to analyze, but people have measured it and probably are still analyzing it.
This one shows the terminology: riser up top with positive segregation; branched columnar dendritic zone; V segregation in the center; equiaxed grain zone with the negative zone we saw before; chill zone at the bottom; columnar zone. You have a composite from the original casting. That's a problem in a lot of cases — you want to break it down.
So you may later forge the product to get rid of it. If you're lucky — iron or titanium — those alloys go through a crystallographic phase change at intermediate temperatures. Iron goes from FCC to BCC around 900° Centigrade. Titanium goes from BCC to HCP at a similar temperature. You can cycle the material in the solid state and break down some of this. But if you want to diffuse away compositional gradients in a big ingot, you can wait a couple of thousand years in a hot furnace. The rate of diffusion over long distances is so slow that macrosegregation cannot be annealed out. Microsegregation can, but macro cannot.
So we take something with large grains and lots of segregation and work it — forge it, hammer it down to a smaller shape. You don't use cast plate. If we could use cast plate we'd save a lot of money. People make pressure vessels out of 4-inch-thick plate. If you could cast it as 4-inch plate and get uniform properties we would, but we can't. For 4-inch plate you'd better start with 16-inch-thick castings and get 75% reduction to break up the macrosegregation and homogenize it. It's not all that different from kneading dough. The old blacksmiths actually did fold it over on itself, when they had sponge iron — they'd fold it like kneading dough, over and over. You oxidize away a lot of your material that way. Nowadays we put it in a big hammer press and forge a big ingot into a small round.
If you start out with a 40-inch diameter ingot, you can forge it into a 12-inch bar, and machine things out of that. The bar won't have much macrosegregation. A lot of the specs require you to take a baloney slice off the end of that 12-inch ingot, etch it with a specified etchant, and look for residual segregation. Not so common for railroad wheels, but very common for aircraft engine parts. The spec will tell you to do a macro etch test, slice a piece off, make sure you don't have a lot of segregation. You have to get it homogeneous.
Student: So this is a major issue in those generator rotors, right?
Yeah, those ingots could be 60 or 70 inches in diameter, and they'll forge them down to maybe 30 or 40 inches. The area reduction — if you go down twice in diameter you get 75% in area. In general you need about 75%. You'd love 90%.
§9. The Amtrak New Haven–Boston trolley wire case [80:14]
This particular ingot, which has a very small amount of silver — like a tenth of a percent — I was brought in because this was going to be the trolley wire for the Amtrak New Haven to Boston extension. The overhead line. The company making this wire — the largest-diameter wire they had ever made was 5/16 of an inch, and they were going to make it from this inch and 3/8 stock. It starts out as very large grain. This isn't segregation, it's the grain size.
If you look at properties of metals in general — steels, aluminum, copper, virtually everything — the two properties we care about are strength and toughness. Strength is the force to fracture. We talk about yield strength, which has to meet some minimum value. Toughness is the energy of fracture. Glass is actually fairly strong — stronger than steel; that's why fiberglass composites can be reasonably strong, the fibers are stronger than steel. But glass isn't tough. It shatters; it's brittle; there's not a lot of energy.
Plot stress versus strain. You go up, you yield — this is sigma-y for yield — and may keep going up to sigma-U for ultimate tensile strength. Then it breaks. The area under the curve is the energy. Force through a distance — stress times strain is the work needed to deform this bar of metal or piece of rubber or piece of glass. Glass's stress-strain curve looks like this — no area under the curve, no energy of fracture. Rubber doesn't have much strength but it stretches a lot, and there's a lot of energy under the curve. You can shoot a rubber band across the room. Try shooting a piece of glass across the room — you can't store much energy in it.
What gives you both strength and toughness in metals is fine grain size. You want both. The Liberty ships taught us you want toughness. We knew about strength in 1880 — that's when they first started doing tensile tests, and that was the specification until the 1950s. After the Liberty ship problem, research at Naval Research Lab, the British Welding Institute, and MIT — the three places in the world that really studied the brittle fracture of steels — found you needed to include toughness, the area under the curve. You wanted ductility.
Last week I was down at the Army where they're making armor, and they say their three metrics are strength, toughness, and ductility. Well, this strain is ductility. Strength is strength. Toughness is just the area under the curve. So in my report I wrote that it's nice they have these three metrics, but only two of them are independent. The area is just length times width. You only need two of the three to define strength and toughness, which are the two things you really want. But they like to measure all three. I'm not sure they'd thought it through enough to realize only two of the three are independent.
Back to the wire. To break down this grain structure in a very pure material like this copper, they were supposed to go from this cross-section down to about 5/16, an 80% reduction, in order to get the strength and the fine grain size and ductility. They really needed about 90% reduction, but their continuous caster couldn't make anything any larger than this. They had never made wire — this was twice the diameter, four times the cross-sectional area, of any wire they had ever made. I had two days to decide whether to accept $6 million worth of this product, or to reject it. I rejected it. And then they sued the government.
You don't sue the government unless you're squeaky clean. Amtrak's owned by the government. The contract specified certain strength and ductility for this trolley wire. It was going to start at this diameter and end at that diameter — it didn't have a 90% reduction in area, only about 80%. Their wire didn't have enough ductility. The real problem was, because it still had large grains and hadn't been worked enough, it wasn't very smooth on the surface — it had little waves. When you're going 100 mph, little waves become big bumps. When they tried to run the train down the track, it was like the 4th of July with sparks coming off as the pantograph bounced along the conductor. If you had those arcs, the wire would have worn out within months.
They countersued. They had a fixed-price contract, and they could have made an extra few million dollars if they'd been able to buy from this one small firm. They had justified going to that firm by claiming they had tried to source everywhere in the world and no one else would bid on the specification. Which wasn't true. They were lying. Phelps Dodge, the second-largest copper company in the world, headquartered in New Jersey, had been begging this British company who was building the extension to let them put in a bid. Phelps Dodge had a new process with what we call redundant deformation. The Army's looking at this same Conform process for some new magnesium armors now — developed in one of the British labs — where you really get a lot of work into the metal and get very fine grains.
Phelps Dodge had actually made something that was too ductile. That's what the company said — your material has too much ductility, too much toughness, it's too good for us, so we won't let you bid because you don't come within our spec. Then they turned around and told the government this other company was a sole source, so they had to use their material. Then Tom Eagar came around and rejected it. Once rejected, it was going to slow up a $300 million project. All of a sudden the government said, why don't you go to Phelps Dodge, we understand they were interested.
When this went to lawsuit, the company came in with their technical argument why Tom Eagar was wrong on the properties. The government came in and said: you just defrauded the federal government. They yanked the passports of the British managers, took the computers, and basically turned it into a criminal trial. You don't fool around with people who can bring in the FBI. It's a longer story than that, but that's basically what happened.
When they saw the legal response from Amtrak they realized they had committed a sin and were in trouble. The wire that went up was the Phelps Dodge material, and it's great material — great ductility, great strength, great toughness. It's got all the properties we wanted and more. But that was why it was defective according to the British. The real thing for the British was, it was $2 million cheaper on a $6 million order. So they decided their junk would be great material.
Except that's another thing they did — Amtrak sent them an order saying do not put any of your junk material up. And they did. Right down here in Providence they put up about 6 miles of track with this wire. That's how we knew it would spark, because they ran a train down it and it was like the 4th of July. That was their big mistake. It wasn't clear that I could back up with data my assessment that this material wouldn't be good enough. But once they ran it down the track and you saw it sparking, we all knew it wasn't good enough. It became obvious. Until they ran the test that they were told not to run, we didn't have the data to back us up.
Okay, any questions on any of that? I'll be here Thursday. I won't be here tomorrow; I have to go to Washington. Thursday we're going to go through some forging. I don't know that we'll get to rolling or powder metallurgy — you'll just have to take this course in the fall, or some other time, or just ignore it for the future. This is the fifth class and Thursday will be the sixth class. I'll still be around. Maybe I'll come to a couple of the classes and watch the videos, see if I still believe what I said back then. I'll see you Thursday.