M
y wife and three children (Kate, Ann, and Michael) and I moved to Houston in January of 1964. NASA was building a new center there, called the Manned Spacecraft Center. The astronauts' offices were being moved into a brand-new building and I was assigned my own small office, with a big gray metal desk, several large bookcases, and a small blackboard on one wall. Inside the desk there were lots of pencils, a ruler, and several yellow pads of paper. That was all the equipment you needed to become an astronaut, or at least to start becoming an astronaut. No one told me how I should be spending every minute of every day; I had to decide
that for myself. I decided to begin by learning as much as I could about the history of the space program, about Projects Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo, and to find out what was bothering the engineers who were designing the spacecraft of the future.
One nice thing about studying the space program in 1964 was that it was quite new, and one didn't have to go back very far in the history books to learn about it. Of course, people like Jules Verne (and how many before him?) had been dreaming of flying to the moon for centuries, and the Chinese had had small rockets for seven hundred years. But it had only been fairly recently that man had begun to think seriously about using rocket power to leave the surface of the earth. Piston and jet engines are of no use in space, because they require air to operate (to mix with the fuel before burning) and there is no air above the earth's atmosphere, in the vacuum of space. A rocket solves this problem by carrying everything it needs with it, not only fuel but also the oxidizer needed to mix with the fuel and cause it to burn. It was the twentieth century before people thought seriously about this, and there were three men who seemed to be ahead of everyone else in the world.
The first was a Russian by the name of Konstantin Tsiolkovsky, who was born in 1857. Tsiolkovsky was almost totally deaf, and because of this handicap he had a very difficult time getting an education. He couldn't get into the best schools, but spent so much time studying on his own at the public library in Moscow that he was given a job as a schoolteacher. In his free time he designed a wide variety of airships and spacecraft. None of them ever flew, but their theoretical possibilities were very far advanced. For
example, he thought plants should be grown aboard spacecraft, to purify the air. When man finally decides to live in space, I expect that he will do exactly what Tsiolkovsky recommended, and use plants to produce oxygen for the crew to breathe. The crew will return the favor by exhaling carbon dioxide, which (along with sunlight and water) plants need to live. Scientists, who love to give long names to things, call this process photosynthesis. Konstantin Tsiolkovsky died in 1935, and the Russians made a museum out of his house. I visited there recently and talked to Tsiolkovsky's grandson. Visitors not only can learn a lot about Tsiolkovsky's plans for flying into space but can also see how he lived on earth. Even his bicycle has been saved, and the tin ear trumpet, nearly two feet long, which poor deaf Konstantin used to hold up to his ear for his students to speak into.
In the United States the great pioneer of rocketry was Robert Hutchings Goddard, who was born in Massachusetts in 1882âthe same year my dad was born. One day when he was seventeen, Goddard was up in a cherry tree, trimming the branches, when he suddenly thought how wonderful it would be to make a machine that could ascend all the way to Mars. He didn't know how to do it, but when he climbed down from that tree he felt he was a different boy. Life now had a purpose for him. Goddard realized that to fulfill that purpose he needed to get an education, and he pursued his studies all the way to a Ph. D. degree. Unlike Tsiolkovsky, who concentrated on theory, Goddard built rockets. In 1926 he flew the world's first
lipuid
-rocket-propelled vehicle (remember that the Chinese and others had used
solid
propellants, not unlike the
Fourth of July variety). The more successful Goddard's rockets became, the more noise they made. Finally the police got so many complaints from his neighbors that they told him he couldn't shoot off any more rockets in
that
neighborhood
. Goddard solved the problem by moving to the desert near Roswell, New Mexico, where he could fire his rockets in peace. They only went up to about 9,000 feet, but that was still better than anyone else in the world could do in the nineteen-thirties. They were the ancestors of the gigantic Saturn V moon rocket.
The third rocket genius was a German named Hermann Oberth. He is the only one of the three who is still alive, although he retired long ago. Oberth figured out the mathematical equations which proved that space flight was practical. His ideas also led to the founding of a Society for Spaceship Travel, whose members tried experimenting with small liquid-propelled rockets which were generally recovered by parachutes. In World War II, Germany built on Oberth's ideas and developed the V-2, a rocket powerful enough to carry an explosive warhead all the way from northern Germany to London. After World War II, Wernher Von Braun, the leader of this effort, came to the United States with some of his experts and began building rockets in this country. Their work did not receive much attention until October 4, 1957, when the Russians launched Sputnik, the first man-made satellite in history. Sputnik came as a great shock to the world, because (despite Tsiolkovsky's work) Russia was considered to be a backward nation, especially in the area of advanced technology. Sputnik weighed 184 pounds, and obviously required a very large rocket to accelerate this mass to a sufficient
speed to achieve orbit. The United States couldn't even put a flea into orbit, much less 184 pounds, but people like Von Braun were working on it, and when they heard about the Russian success, they started working even harder. The space race was on!
Early in 1958, the United States put up its first satellite, Explorer I, and it wasn't long before people started talking about putting a man into orbit. Project Mercury was designed to do that, but again the Russians got there first, and put the first human being into orbit. In 1961, Yuri Gagarin made one circle around the earth in 89 minutes. Yuri was a very personable young man, friendly, with a big smile, and he became a hero in Russia and a celebrity in all parts of the world. He was killed flying a MIG-15 jet trainer in 1968. Alan Shepard was the first American in space, followed closely by Gus Grissom, but these two flights were not intended to go into orbit, but simply to fly a ballistic arc up a bit over one hundred miles and then fall back down into the sea. John Glenn was the first Mercury astronaut to circle the earth, making three orbits. Then came Scott Carpenter and Wally Schirra, and finally Gordon Cooper finished up the Mercury program in May 1963, staying up for thirty-four hours.
The Mercury astronauts were allowed to name their spacecraft. All the names ended with a 7, since there were but seven astronauts in existence, and they wanted to emphasize their unity. The names they picked were Freedom 7, Liberty Bell 7, Friendship 7, Aurora 7, Sigma 7, and Faith 7. An aurora is a group of flashing lights in the sky, usually seen only on clear nights in the far north. Sigma is one of the letters of the Greek alphabet which is used
frequently in mathematics to indicate the sum of various parts. In this case I guess it indicated the sum of all the work that many people put into the launch of a manned spacecraft.
Between Cooper's flight in 1963 and my arrival in Houston in 1964, there had been no more space flights. A second group of nine astronauts had been picked, and now my group of fourteen, so there were thirty of us, instead of seven, and we were all eager to fly in space, especially we rookies. The reason none of us was doing so was that Project Mercury had ended and Project Gemini had not yet begun. President Kennedy had said (shortly after Alan Shepard's flight in 1961) that we should send a man to the moon, and return him safely to earthâbefore the end of the decade. We all knew that, but the problem was there were a number of questions that had to be answered before we could try a lunar trip. The two-man Gemini spacecraft was being designed to find out as much as we could in earth orbit before trying to take an Apollo spacecraft all the way to the moon.
The biggest unknown was what would happen to a man who stayed weightless for a long time. Some doctors thought the heart and blood-supply system would become confused by the lack of gravity and would not function properly. It is not possible to create weightlessness here on earth, except for very short periods of time. One way would be to jump off a tall building, in which case you would be weightless until you hit the ground. I don't recommend that! A second way, which we did try, was to dive down in a speeding jet until it got going very fast, pull up abruptly into a steep climb, and then push over into a lazy
arc in the shape of a parabola. For approximately twenty seconds near the top of the arc, you and your plane would be weightless. Those twenty seconds were the most experience we had, until Mercury began with Alan Shepard's fifteen-minute flight. Then the flights got longer, until finally Cooper stayed up nearly a day and a half, with no apparent ill effects. But a round trip to the moon would take
over a week
, and no one was willing to guarantee that a man's body wouldn't somehow be damaged by being weightless that long. Also, the Russian cosmonauts were reported to be having some problems with nausea. Therefore, Gemini was created to find out once and for all, by keeping two men up for fourteen days. Of course, this long flight would be undertaken only if no harm came to the astronauts on the earlier Gemini flights, which were scheduled to stay up for four days, and then eight days.
The second most important unknown was the question of rendezvous and docking. The Apollo machinery was being designed with two separate spacecraft, which would rendezvous and dock with each other while in orbit around the moon. But no one had ever made a space rendezvous or docking! Was it practical to plan Apollo that way? Could two vehicles speeding around earth or moon really find each other, get into the same orbit at the same speed, and gently bring their two craft together? Could they do it
every time
they tried, or only when they were lucky? We had to know these things, as well as the effects of weightlessness on the human body, before we could safely obey President Kennedy's order to get to the moon by the end of the decade.
A third thing we hoped to learn from Project Gemini was
how to operate
outside
a spacecraft. We wanted men to walk on the airless moon, not just to land and stay inside their spacecraft, and that meant that experience had to be gained working inside a pressure suit containing its own atmosphere. Of course, we couldn't “moon walk” during Gemini, but we could “space walk” and find out how to design portable breathing and cooling equipment.
In addition to these questions, which we hoped Gemini would answer, there were also a number of hazards involved in going to the moon. For one thing, it was simply a long way off, and that meant all our machinery had to be very reliable. If something broke in earth orbit, we could be on the ground within an hour. But if the same thing happened on the moon, it might take three days to get home. For example, every once in a while the sun releases a burst of deadly energy, called a solar flare. These particles speed out from the sun, and would go right on through the walls of a spacecraft and through the bodies of the astronauts. If severe enough, a solar flare could cause the crew to become sick, and perhaps even die. Here on the surface of the earth, we are protected against solar flares by our atmosphere, which prevents most of the radiation from reaching the ground. Meteorites are another source of worry. In 1964 we didn't know how many of them there were in space, or what to do if one hit a spacecraft, but we did know from studying the moon that meteorites in the past had caused millions of craters (some of them huge) as they struck the moon.
The moon's surface also was the subject of great debate in 1964. Some people thought that, except for a few boulders, it would be hard and flatâand they turned out to be
right. But other scientists thought there was a layer of dust on the surface which in places might be thirty or forty feet thick! If a spacecraft came down there, it would be in great trouble, sinking down out of sight. Other scientists thought that static electricity would cause whatever dust there was to cling to the windows of the spacecraft, blocking the astronauts' view and causing them to crash on landing.
Other people worried about the zone of constant sunlight between the earth and the moon. In earth orbit, a spacecraft hides from the sun for a portion of each orbit, when it is in the earth's shadow (we call that
night
). But on the way to the moon there is no place to hide, and the sunlight is continuous, twenty-four hours a day. Wouldn't the side of the spacecraft facing the sun get too hot, and the side in the shade get too cold? What would it be like inside under these conditions? No one knew whether it would be too hot or too cold inside. Also, what would the humidity be? If it got too moist, we were afraid that the moisture would condense on the coldest equipment, just as a pitcher of ice tea on a hot summer day gets dripping wet on the outside. We didn't want that to happen anywhere near our electronic equipment, because the moisture might cause short circuits, which in turn would cause our radios to fail.
Radio failure was especially worrisome, because if the astronauts couldn't talk to anybody they would have to do all the navigating back from the moon, without help from radar tracking stations, and computers on earth. Navigation instruments were being designed, but no one really knew how accurate they would be, and they had to be very, very precise. For example, as it approaches the earth, a spacecraft returning from the moon must be within a very narrow
zone about forty miles high. If it misses this zone on the high side, it will skip the earth entirely and keep on going past; on the low side, it will hit the atmosphere at too steep an angle, and burn up. Hitting a forty-mile target from a distance of 238,000 miles is about like trying to split a human hair with a razor blade thrown from a distance of twenty feet.