by Gideon Marcus

Keeping Score

It is remarkable to think how different the Space Race was just a little over a year ago.  Mercury was long past.  The Soviets had just stunned the world with two Voskhod flights.  One of them had carried three cosmonauts in space.  The other was the base for the first spacewalk.  We all waited with bated breath for Voskhod 3, sure it would leave American space efforts in the dust.

But it never happened.

The week after Voskhod 2, Gemini 3 went up.  A modest flight, barely a repeat of Glenn's mission, but with two people.  In June, Gemini 4 featured America's first spacewalk.  August's Gemini 5 mission lasted an unprecedented eight days.  December saw two Gemini (6 and 7) perform the first controlled space rendesvous.  And in March of this year, Gemini 8 accomplished the first docking in orbit.

Where are the Russians?  Indeed, the greatest threat to American space supremacy in the latest mission of Gemini 9, just concluded two days ago, was Mr. Murphy and his old back of tricks.

Prince of the Pad

Scheduled for May 17, 1966, Gemini 9 was supposed to be the first real all-up test of the two-seat spacecraft.  Astronauts Tom Stafford (veteran of Gemini 6) and Gene Cernan would dock with an Agena and conduct a spacewalk.  If successful, this would demonstrate all of the techniques and training necessary for a trip to the Moon. 

The first bit of bad luck involved the Agena docking adapter.  Shortly after liftoff on the 17th, one of the booster engines gimballed off center and propelled rocket and Agena into the Atlantic ocean.  The two astronauts, bolted into their Gemini capsule for a launch intended for just a few minutes after, had to abort their mission.

Luckily, NASA had a back-up: the Augmented Target Docking Adapter (ADTA).  The ADTA was basically an Agena without the engine.  A Gemini could practice docking with it, but the ADTA can't be used as an orbital booster for practice of the manuever that Apollo will employ when it breaks orbit to head for the Moon.

ADTA went up on June 1, no problem.  But just seconds before launch, the Gemini 9 computer refused navigational updates from the Cape.  The launch window was missed, and once again, Tom and Gene were forced to scrub.  Stafford got the nickname "Prince of the Pad."

On June 3, however, Gemini 9 had a picture-perfect liftoff, which we caught on TV, tuned into CBS for Walter Cronkite's smooth coverage.  Just a couple of hours later, Stafford had skillfully maneuvered his Gemini into docking range of the ADTA.

Angry Alligators and Foggy Visors

Unfortunately, ADTA was a mess.  The payload fairing that protected the adapter during launch had failed to come off.  It covered the front of the thing, half open, looking for all the world like, as Stafford described it, an "Angry Alligator."  Gemini 9 kept station with the adapter for a bit, but it was clear that a docking was impossible.  Eventually, the spacecraft left the ADTA behind.  There was other work to do.

Because on June 5, Gene Cernan suited up and left his cramped co-pilot seat for the longest spacewalk in American history.  This was to be a true working spacewalk, not just a sightseeing tour.  Connected to the Gemini by a long strap of nylon, Cernan clambered to the nose of the spacecraft to retrieve a micrometeorite experiment.  Then, agonizingly slowly, he made his way to the rear of the spacecraft.  It was proving much harder to operate in zero gee than expected.  That was okay; stowed in Gemini's rear was the Astronaut Maneuvering Unit (AMU).  With the AMU, theoretically, Cernan would become his own miniature spaceship, able to flit around as if on angel's wings.

Mr. Murphy would have none of it.  Struggle as Cernan might, he couldn't detach the AMU for use.  After endless struggling, during which Cernan's visor completely fogged up and his heart rate soared above a hundred beats per minute, Stafford ordered his crewmate back inside half an hour earlier than scheduled. 

Those of us who watched the TV coverage beheld things about as dimly as poor Cernan.  The transmissions from Gemini were garbled into unintelligibility, and as there was no live footage possible of the actual spacewalk, CBS had rigged up a stage setup involving a Gemini model, a rotating Earth background, and a poor fellow on wires in a spacesuit floating around.  ABC had a similar "simulation."  It was…less than convincing.

Happy Endings

The last day of the flight was uneventful.  Gemini 9 had completed, if unsatisfactorily, its scheduled activities.  I can imagine poor Tom and Gene were probably a bit glum at the lackluster record of the mission, though Stafford could take pride in being the first astronaut to fly two missions in the same spacecraft — and in the space of just seven months, to boot.

There was one bright spot in the mission, however.  After a perfect retro-fire almost exactly three days after launch, Gemini 9 came down in the Atlantic closer to its carrier recovery fleet than any previous mission.  So close did it splashdown to the U.S.S. Wasp that, for the first time, the carrier crew caught sight of the landing.

As did we at home.  Broadcast live via Early Bird satellite, we saw the beautiful spray of water followed by the graceful collapse of the parachute.  Within half an hour, the spacecraft and crew had been hoisted aboard the Wasp.  Less than four hours later, the two astronauts were already on their way back to Cape Kennedy for debriefing.  Spaceflight has become an efficient routine.

Which, if anything, marks the understated triumph of Gemini 9.  It's true that things did not go as planned during the flight.  Not in flashy, potentially deadly ways as in Armstrong's whirling flight in March, but frustratingly nonetheless.  But on the other hand, we've now had seven two-man flights in quick succession, with three more planned before the end of the year.  Compare this record to the six Mercury flights spread out over two years, the longest of which lasted barely more than a day.  America can afford less-than-perfect missions; if anything goes wrong, we can make it up in a few months.

This marks a threshold of maturity for American spaceflight.  Whereas the Soviets managed to secure an early lead in the Space Race with a series of spectaculars, like the tortoise and the hare, slow and steady will win ultimately win the competition for the United States. 

It may make for boring television, but that's a small price to pay for victory!

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