Some specialized M-series computers designed under Kartsev's direction were employed for weaponry-related calculations by the Soviet Army. The M-4M computers known under the army codes 5E71, 5E72, and 5E73 were ten times more powerful than their contemporary civilian models, M-220, BESM-4 and others, and operated at military facilities from 1967 to 1981. The M-10 computer, known by its army code 5E66, significantly exceeded other contemporary domestic models such BESM-6 and the ES-1060. Using computer models 5E71 through 5E73 and 5E66, the Soviet Union's largest multi-computer complex was formed. Operating around the clock, its 76 computers functioned on a common algorithm and were connected by data transmission channels spanning tens of thousands of kilometers.
Kartsev understood that computers designed at NIIVK were not only capable of serving the military air defense warning system, but could produce significant results in scientific research that required complicated calculations, which were not solvable on any other Soviet computers of that period due to their slow operating speed and small internal memory. Despite the military leadership's resistance, Kartsev got permission to publish the technical documents on the M-10 computer and actively pursued establishing connections with the scientific research organizations that were in need of high-performance computers. Because of his initiative, a variety of extremely complex scientific calculations were completed, including plasma collapse simulations that could not be done on the American CDC-7600 computer.[9]
Kartsev wrote five books and fifty-five articles on the theory of computer technology and held 16 invention certificates. His Arithmetic Units of Electronic Digital Computers, published in the Soviet Union in 1958 and later abroad, and Digital Computer Arithmetic (1969) provided the theoretical base for arithmetic units and its conclusions have been widely used in textbooks. His last works, Digital Computer Architecture and Computing Systems and Synchronous Arithmetic (1978) were the first attempt to establish a scientific base for computer architecture and parallel calculation design.
Kartsev was one of the few who initiated computerized optical-electronics research in the Soviet Union, and his Institute built a fiber-optic system for a multi-computer complex of six M-10 computers. For his achievements, Kartsev was awarded the "Medal of Honor" Order in 1966, a medal "For Valiant Labor" and the State Prize of the USSR in 1967, the Order of Lenin in 1978, and the Order of the Red Banner of Labor in 1971. In 1993, his institute was renamed the Kartsev Institute of Computer Complexes. The author finishes this section on Mikhail Kartsev with an excerpt from a letter he received from Kartsev's son, Vladimir:
The few pages that I am sending you are, of course, much less than what my father deserved.
The more I think about him, the harder it is for me understand what kind of person my father really was. Without a doubt, his work was his life. Nevertheless, he would have enjoyed success in any other field, had destiny led him away from computer design.
My father valued talent and skill above all other individual qualities, regardless of whether it was the ability to solve theoretical problems or to drive a car. Unfortunately and quite frequently, he was forced to place the fate of his work in the hands of the people who lacked such qualities, which generally resulted in him having to do most of the work. He once said, 'Every project manager must be ready to do the whole project with his own hands. It's not that easy, but it's worth it!'
Father disliked incompetence, regardless of the reason. I remember his indignation when he tried to put together a children's radio-set kit, in which none of the parts matched the diagram. On the other hand, he was extremely patient in overcoming problems that he considered worthy of his attention. When he was doing what he loved, he was extraordinarily calm.
In addition to his regular work during the day, my father gave evening lectures at the university. He even became a professor, almost as an afterthought. When his students took his exams, it was always open book, and they were allowed to bring any books they wanted. Of course, and I firmly believe that, he did not require them to know as much as he did. Nevertheless, his exams were considered difficult. He never asked them to memorize the information, but instead wanted them to understand the subject. How many people can say that?
Father's intellect remained in his books and in the work of his followers. But the essence of his being, his personality, his style and his elegance, remained only in the memory of those who knew him. My father's intellectual demeanor made him vulnerable when he needed to assert himself or to gain support from the authorities, but without it, like without a sense of humor, the person we all remembered would not have existed.
My father's favorite books were The Twelve Chairs and The Little Golden Calf by Ilf and Petrov. Together, we also read their One-Storied America, and The Two Captains by Kaverin.[10] Father could recite Pushkin's Eugene Onegin by heart. Books, and not just scientific books but literature in general, was his great passion. He easily read in English also, but mostly scientific works, and once was lucky enough to practice his conversational English with two Arabs, who happened to be sitting next to us in café.[11] When I was learning German in school and was cramming for a test, my father, who memorized the passage by listening to me read it over and over, suddenly began speaking to me in German. Formally, he only studied English, but long ago, when German was a popular foreign language to study, he read every textbook his school had and apparently retained most of it.
One of father's favorite movies was the Soviet film The Taming of Fire.[12] It seemed that father was not a stranger to romanticism, and I would even go as far as to say that in general, intellectuals are often prone to be romantics. He must have seen something familiar and close to his heart in the movie. It must have been for the same reason he loved Viktor Nekrasov's In the Trenches of Stalingrad, although he usually did not read books about the war, considering them to have little in common with his personal war-time experience.
He never worried about his health. He probably would have lived longer if he exercised and took regular vacations. But then, he would not have been true to his nature. He wanted to live and die on his own terms; to be a real director of the Institute he had established and to continue to lead computer technology in the direction that he pioneered.
He was dear to everyone he came in contact with; not just as an authority figure, or a leader, or a great worker, but as a kind man who cared about people, was very honest and unassuming. If he had any shortcomings, there was only one—he was too trusting and considered others to be just as fair, honest, and compassionate as he was. Mikhail Kartsev was and remains one of the world's greatest figures in the history of computer science and technology.
[9] Author's note: Some of these results were published in the Soviet Academy of Sciences reports in volume 245, 1979, No. 2, pages 309-312; and in the Proceedings of the XV International Conference for Ionized Gas Phenomena held in Minsk, July 1981.
[10] Editor's note:Ilya Ilf and Eugene Petrov were Soviet witty satirical writers well known by all Russians. Veniamin Kaverin was a socialist-realist Soviet writer who published this novel in 1947.
[11] Translator's Note: Today it is difficult for westerners to understand how problematic it was for Russians to meet foreigners who spoke English. Living in the closed society, particularly for a scientist employed by the military, provided little chance for free and informal communication with foreigners. That was why Kartsev had limited practice in his foreign language skills.
[12] Editor's note:This film was produced by director Danil Khrabrovitskii in 1972. It celebrates those who developed the Soviet rocket and space program.
Having visited our laboratory and scrupulously tested TsEM-1, Sergei Alexeevich surprised us with this question: 'Don't you bang it with a hammer?' It turned out that a rubber mallet was a common laboratory tool used on the BESM, and banging it on the machine's solid-state metal frame was typical machine maintenance!