Project Javaman: Ukraine, WW2, & Terrorists

National Security Monday

A few decades ago I had an interest in the Office of Strategic Services, specifically their maritime branch, and spent time at National Archives in College Park reviewing the reports and early training videos. On August 21, 2017, I again returned to the OSS files by request; I only know the date because as I exited the building the DC area was experiencing a solar eclipse. The Russo-Ukrainian War was still a few years away with the use of Ukraine’s unmanned maritime craft to challenge Russia’s Black Sea Fleet. Experimenting with that technology isn’t knew, and had its origins during World War 2, and the subject I had been sent to investigate.

In the middle of the Second World War, an audacious concept born of American ingenuity, desperation, and the unique synergy between citizen-sailors and civilian innovation flickered into being - and just as quickly disappeared. Project Javaman, largely obscured in the broader histories of the conflict, was a visionary initiative under the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) led by a Navy Reserve lieutenant commander that nearly ushered in a new era of maritime warfare using remotely operated explosive-laden boats.

It was conceived in the crucible of the Pacific theater, where conventional naval engagements had begun to show diminishing returns against entrenched Japanese defenses and logistical arteries. In November 1943, the OSS established its Special Projects Office, a unit tasked with executing unorthodox missions that fell outside the standard operations of military planning. Staffed with approximately 90 personnel, the office concentrated its efforts on harbor and port operations. One of its major undertakings, Project Javaman, emerged from this cell of innovation. The research and development of Javaman was spearheaded by LCDR John Shaheen, USNR. He had worked for RCA prior to the war.

Shaheen had already overseen Mission McGregor, which acquired and exploited Italian secret naval weapons in the summer of 1943, and Project Simmons, which focused on radio-controlled bombs. But Javaman was something altogether different. It was not merely about adapting enemy tech or gathering intelligence. This time, it was about designing, building, and deploying an entirely new offensive capability - an unmanned surface vessel (USV) intended to penetrate enemy harbors and detonate with devastating effect.

The concept was straightforward but revolutionary: equip 85-foot boats with television and radio equipment allowing them to be controlled remotely by aircraft. The idea was approved on 21 March 1944, and within weeks, the proof of concept was completed on 5 April. By 11 August 1944, Javaman had reached Initial Operating Capability (IOC). However, the project was suspended on 20 September 1945, just weeks after the Japanese surrender.

The technical dimensions of Javaman were impressive for their time. The Chesapeake Bay tests near Hampton, Virginia, in April 1944 involved AB Hager craft, powered by 550hp engines capable of reaching 35 knots with a range of 220 miles unladen. These early tests proved successful, prompting the procurement of 20 additional boats. In subsequent trials conducted in Pensacola, Florida, the A-2 and San Pablo crafts achieved control distances of up to 60 miles and altitudes of 25,000 feet. By March 1945, the program tested its longest-range capabilities: 85 miles from control aircraft at high altitude.

The vessels themselves were heavily modified for their unique missions. They included components like the SGR-217 radar, MG-186, AB-29, and AB-150/ART radios, as well as specialized antennas and tuning units with 55 crystals each. In some variants, mufflers and shock mounts were installed to reduce engine noise, while smoke machines were added for deception. The boats could be equipped with up to 10,000 pounds of Torpex explosives and were designed to detonate 25 feet below the waterline, a depth optimal for crippling or destroying anchored vessels and port infrastructure.

The project integrated multiple functionalities: speed modulation, smoke and sound deception, remote detonation, and even remote scuttling. In Tampa Bay testing, the boats employed scuttling charges that triggered explosions 18 seconds after command input, offering both operational flexibility and a degree of stealth.

Administratively, the office grew exponentially in the final months of the war.

Strategically, the planners were clear-eyed about potential targets. Naval vessels and merchant shipping were obvious choices, but these were often already contained by the U.S. Navy. The true value lay in attacking infrastructure—particularly bridges and port facilities—whose destruction could delay or cripple Japanese logistical capabilities. The Kanmon Tunnel, connecting Japan’s Honshu and Kyushu islands, was seen as an ideal target. Completed in 1942, it was essential to Japan’s internal logistics. A successful Javaman attack could have disrupted rail supply for up to six months, equivalent in strategic impact to sinking ten percent of Japan’s merchant fleet.

Target vessels were identified using data from the OSS’s Research and Analysis Branch, which determined that Japan had built over 500,000 tons of wooden cargo carriers. These vessels, often 88 to 95 feet in length with a beam of 22 to 24 feet, were similar in profile to the Javaman boats, enhancing the feasibility of disguising the drones for infiltration. Camouflage techniques included visual deception, muffled engines, and false audio signatures.

Personnel involved in Project Javaman were organized into several specialized sections, including Boats, Medical, Admin, Demolition, Flight, Security, Electronics, Training, and Planning & Operations. There was even a designated Theater Representative to ensure coordination across command echelons. The training pipeline was comprehensive, as operators needed proficiency in electronics, radio control, aeronautical coordination, and explosive ordnance.

Despite these innovations, Project Javaman faced significant institutional resistance. A 27 March 1945 memo from Shaheen to OSS Director Bill Donovan highlighted the Navy’s reluctance to support the project. Admiral Harold Stark, Commander of U.S. Naval Forces in Europe, was reportedly prohibited by the Commander-in-Chief from providing logistical support. Cables from Washington cast doubt on the project’s credibility, and Navy leadership refused to provide the requested Block III television equipment.

Why did the Navy resist? Partly because they were developing similar capabilities independently and were hesitant to adopt external systems, but I’m not aware of any similar capabilities the Navy was exploring at that time.

More importantly, by the spring of 1945, the war in Europe was nearing its conclusion. With sufficient conventional forces in theater and an expected Japanese surrender on the horizon, there was little appetite for experimental systems. The Navy was also concerned that investing in Javaman might threaten the funding and deployment of conventional platforms.

Rear Admiral Walter S. DeLany, one of the key figures in evaluating emerging technologies, acknowledged that while the project was visionary, it was ultimately deemed unnecessary. This was not a technical failure, but a case study in how bureaucratic inertia and strategic timing can undermine innovation.

The OPSEC measures for Javaman were stringent. In Pensacola, the cover story claimed that the project was testing radios for experimental crash boats. Personnel were instructed not to mention explosives or electronics and were prohibited from working directly with radio operators. The classified nature of the project ensured that only a handful of people understood its full scope.

In assessing Javaman’s legacy, it is impossible to ignore its pioneering nature. It was one of the earliest attempts at deploying unmanned surface vessels in offensive roles, foreshadowing the technologies we now see deployed in the Black Sea by Ukraine, or in the Persian Gulf for mine countermeasure missions. It reflected a core strength of the Navy Reserve: the ability to harness civilian expertise and blend it with military objectives. Officers like Shaheen, with feet in both the commercial and defense worlds, brought novel perspectives that active-duty institutions sometimes lacked.

Javaman was also a reminder that not every great idea fits neatly into the timelines of war. Despite successful tests, high-impact targeting plans, and a relatively low cost (about $377,000 by July 1945), it was shelved just as it reached maturity. In some ways, this made it a victim of its own success; the very progress of Allied forces rendered it redundant.

Still, Project Javaman should not be viewed as a failure. Instead, it should be remembered as a bold, imaginative, and technically sophisticated endeavor led by U.S. Navy Reservists. It remains an early and largely forgotten chapter in the history of unmanned warfare. Its principles, its tactics, and its technological approaches resonate today as the U.S. Navy and many nations explore how to deploy unmanned systems across the world’s oceans.

Nor does the story end there. In a curious turn in the Global War on Terrorism. Lawyers for Abdul Rahim al-Nashiri, the mastermind behind the bombing of the USS Cole, raised the issue of Project Javaman in their litigation:

(Note: although I no longer have the extensive history of Javaman written by the historians at USSOCOM but is in their library.)