Tag Archives: science fact

[April 6, 1965] The Early Bird Catches the Worm (INTELSAT 1)


by Kaye Dee

Later today, the International Telecommunications Satellite Organization, better known as INTELSAT is going to launch its first satellite, INTELSAT-1, which goes by the nickname of ‘Early Bird’. This satellite is intended to be the beginning of a global satellite telecommunications network, which INTELSAT hopes to have in operation by about mid-1967.


INTELSAT aims to connect us all via satellite – starting with the US and Europe

INTELSAT: Connecting the World with Space Technology

I wrote about INTELSAT last year, when the organization was first established in August 1964, with Australia as one of its 11 founding members. Around 45 countries have now joined the INTELSAT consortium and I’m certain that the creation of a world-wide telecommunications system that offers equitable access to all nations will improve international understanding and the prospects for world peace. Satellite communications will certainly prove a boon for countries with poorly-developed internal communications networks, as well as allowing major Southern Hemisphere nations like South Africa and Australia to have more rapid connections to Britain, Europe and North America.


One of the United States' first space stamps recognised the potential for satellite communications to promote world peace

Assuming all goes well with the launch this evening, INTELSAT-1 will be placed in a geostationary orbit at 22,300 miles above the equator, east of the Brazilian coast. Once the satellite has been thoroughly checked out to be sure it’s in full working order, it will go into operation, around the beginning of June, as the first commercial satellite providing regular telecommunications and broadcasting services between North America and Europe.

Soaring to New Heights

Of course, satellite communications between the Unites States and Europe isn’t completely new: Telstar and Relay 1 both provided this service back in 1962. But both satellites were only in low Earth orbit, so they could only provide intermittent service. When Syncom 2 and 3, were launched in 1963 and ’64, respectively, these experimental spacecraft built by the Hughes Aircraft Company demonstrated the feasibility of using satellites in geosynchronous and geostationary orbit to provide a world-wide communications system. They were so successful in connecting America with countries from Japan to Nigeria, that Syncom 3 was the prototype on which Early Bird has been modelled, and you can see the similarity in design.


Syncom 3 above and Early Bird undergoing tests below

Like Syncom 3, INTELSAT-1 is spin stabilised, which is the reason for its cylindrical shape. It has two 6-Watt transponders that enable it to carry 240 two-way voice circuits and one television channel, although not simultaneously: in order to transmit television, all the telephone voice channels have to be shut down.  An important difference between the two satellites, though, is that INTELSAT-1 uses commercial rather than military frequencies for its communications to and from the ground.

INTELSAT-1 weighs just 85-lb which, amazingly for its capabilities, is less than half that of Sputnik 1’s 184 pounds. It is covered with 6,000 solar cells that generate 45 Watts of power to operate the satellite. Early Bird’s capabilities are so advanced that it will actually be more economical to operate than international undersea cables, which carry fewer channels and cost nearly 10 times as much!

Getting into Position

Early Bird is being launched by a Thrust-Augmented Delta, the same type of rocket that was used to put Syncom 3 into orbit. This vehicle, also known as the Delta D, is essentially the same as its predecessor, the Delta C, but with the addition of three Castor-1 solid rocket boosters attached to the first stage. The launch is taking place at Cape Canaveral Air Force Station Launch Complex 17A, which was also used for Syncom 3’s launch. The Delta will boost Early Bird into an elliptical orbit, taking it from 830 to 22,950 miles out in space. After 40 hours a series of delicate manoeuvres will place the satellite in its permanent orbital position.


Early Bird's launch vehicle being assembled. The Castor-1 solid boosters are being hoisted into position while the Delta rocket core waits in the background. It will soon be brought forward for mating with the boosters

Demonstrating the Future

Although it will operate as a commercial service, Early Bird will also be used to demonstrate that international satellite telecommunication is commercially viable in the long-term. While its main ground stations will be the huge horn antennae originally built for Telstar, it will also use ground stations with large parabolic ground antennae with diameters of over 85 feet, like the one at Goonhilly in England, and perhaps smaller antennae as well.


The Telstar horn antenna at Pleumeur-Bodou, France, is now being used as an INTELSAT-1 ground station

From my friends at WRE who are involved with the NASA Gemini tracking station at Carnarvon, Western Australia, I understand that if the Early Bird experience goes well, the antennae for the INTELSAT-2 satellites, that are being contracted by NASA to support the Apollo programme, will be an unusual Cassegrain feed-horn design that is already being nicknamed the “sugar scoop”! I’m fascinated to see what this antenna will actually look like, with a nickname like that!

The other thing that INTELSAT-1 will be determining is whether or not the end to end signal delay of 250 milliseconds, while the signal goes up to the satellite and returns to the ground, will be acceptable to customers. Syncom 3 demonstrated that geostationary orbit is so high that, even at the speed of light, there is a perceptible time-lag between comment and response when communicating internationally. Whether people will find this too disconcerting for use with international satellite phone calls could have a significant influence on how future communications satellite systems are developed.


240 phones for 240 conversations simultaneously carried on via Early Bird. But will people accept the time-lag that comes with geostationary satellite communications?

So, my friends in the Northern Hemisphere, enjoy the convenience of satellite telecommunication that will soon be available to you-I can’t wait for it to come to Australia as well.



We had so much success with our first episode of The Journey Show (you can watch the kinescope rerun; check local listings for details) that we're going to have another one on April 11 at 1PM PDT with The Young Traveler as the special musical guest.  As the kids say, be there or be square!

[March 24, 1965] New Leaps Forward in Space (Voskhod 2, Europa F-3, Ranger 9, and Gemini 3)


by Kaye Dee

Returning to university kept me pretty busy in February, so I knew I wouldn’t have time to write, but this past month has seen yet more leaps forward in space exploration with the world’s first spacewalk and the launch of NASA’s first manned Gemini mission.

Soviet Space Achievements

It’s hard to believe that it’s just under four years since Yuri Gagarin rocketed into orbit as the first man in space. In that short time we’ve seen six flights in the Soviet Union’s Vostok program, including the first dual missions with two space capsules in orbit at the same time, and the first woman in space (how I’d love to meet Valentina Tereshkova!)


The first man and the first woman in space, Soviet cosmonauts Yuri Gagarin and Valentina Tereshkova

Just last year, the USSR gave us the first flight of its new Voskhod spacecraft, carrying a crew of three. At that time, my fellow writer, Gideon Marcus asked, what would the Soviets follow it up with? (see October 1964 entry)

Now we know. On March 18, the USSR launched a new Voskhod mission that has once again denied the United States a significant space first. This time, the Voskhod 2 mission included the world’s first spacewalk – about a year ahead of when NASA has anticipated accomplishing the same feat.

A Mystery Spacecraft


One of the few Voskhod images released so far, showing the inside of Voskhod 1. The orange cladding may be covering up many of the spacecraft's instruments

We don’t know a lot about the Voskhod spacecraft as the Soviet Union has released few pictures of it or statistics about it. It clearly must be substantially larger than the Vostok, since it has proved capable of carrying three people on its first flight, and two cosmonauts plus an airlock device on the recent spacewalking mission. We do know that, according to official figures, Voskhod 1 weighed 11,728lb, while Voskhod 2 weighed in at 12, 527lb – presumably because of the extra weight of the airlock it carried.

Newly Revealed Cosmonauts

The crew for this historic space flight were two cosmonauts whose names were previously unknown to us in the West: Colonel Pavel Belyayev, the mission Commander, and Lt. Colonel Alexei Leonov, who performed the actual spacewalk, or Extravehicular Activity (EVA) as NASA terms it. Leonov’s name will now go down in the history books as the first person ever to step outside a spacecraft into open space. Soviet cosmonaut biographies don’t really tell us very much, but both men are apparently Air Force fighter pilots, and are married with children. At 39, Col. Belyayev is the oldest person so far to make a space flight; he is also the oldest and highest ranking of the cosmonauts we know about.


Official TASS photo of Belyayev (left) and Leonov (right) with Yuri Gagarin at a radio interview after their historic flight

Onboard Airlock

Voskhod 2 was launched at 07.00GMT (5pm Australian Eastern Standard Time) and it was just 90 minutes later, on the second orbit, that the spacewalk took place. At the time, Voskhod 2 was about 300 miles above the earth – the highest orbit by a manned spaceflight to date. Soviet sources describe the airlock that Leonov used to exit the ship as being mounted on the outside of the spacecraft and entered from the Voskhod cabin via a hatch. After the completion of the spacewalk, the airlock was jettisoned before the ship returned to Earth. Because the spacewalk would expose the crew to the vacuum of space if the airlock malfunctioned, both cosmonauts wore spacesuits for the duration of the mission, unlike the Voskhod 1 crew, who made their space flight in lightweight suits, which would seem to be an indication of Soviet confidence in the performance of the spacecraft.


Belyayev (left) and Leonov (right) in their spacesuits on the way to the launch site. Voskhod 1 cosmonaut Vladimir Komarov is between them

Stepping into the Void

According to the TASS news agency, Lt. Col. Leonov spent 20 minutes “in conditions of outer space”. Since his actual spacewalk lasted about 10 minutes, the rest of the time must have been spent in the airlock. I’ve heard a rumour from my friends at the WRE that the spacewalk did not go as smoothly as the Soviets would like us to believe, and that Leonov actually had some difficulty re-entering the airlock, which might explain the times reported by TASS. But stories of Soviet coverups of problems with their cosmonaut program occur after every mission, so it’s hard to know quite where the truth lies in this instance.


Lt Colonel Alexei Leonov floating in the void of space during the historic first spacewalk, seen in frames from the film taken by a camera mounted on Voskhod 2

Whether he had a problem or not, Leonov spent about 10 minutes floating in the void, attached to Voskhod 2 by a long umbilicus, to prevent him drifting away. His breathing oxygen was supplied from a tank on his back. Leonov said that he could look down and see from the Straits of Gibraltar to the Caspian Sea. The spacewalk was filmed and photographed from the Voskhod and I imagine that very few of the readers of this article will not have seen the breathtaking footage of Leonov somersaulting and making swimming movements as he floats in space with the Earth behind him (actually below, of course).

Problems in Orbit?

Voskhod 2 completed 17 orbits before returning to the Earth on 19 March, but there was a mysterious silence from Moscow about the mission after the 13th orbit, which has led to some speculation that there was a problem with the spacecraft, especially as it was not until about five hours after the crew had landed in the vicinity of Perm, west of the Ural Mountains, that their safe return was reported. Belyayev is reported to have brought the Voskhod back to Earth using manual controls. Although official statements said that this was part of the planned research programme, it might also be a hint that the mission experienced problems.


Official TASS photo of Leonov (right) and Belyayev (left) after their return from the Voskhod 2 mission. Leonov is holding folders containing congratulatory messages

But whatever problems the mission may have encountered cannot detract from Lt. Col. Leonov’s historic achievement in making the first spacewalk, a technique that will be needed to advance future space activities. I wonder what new surprises Voskhod 3 will bring….

The Latest ELDO Test Flight

On 22 March, the ELDO program at Woomera also took another step forward with the third successful flight of the Blue Streak first stage of the Europa launcher. Launched at 8.30am local time, the rocket flew 985 miles, reaching a maximum altitude of 150 miles. This flight completes the first phase of the launcher development program: the next phase will begin with an all-up test of a live first stage with dummy upper stages.


The Blue Streak first stage for the ELDO Europa vehicle on the pad awaiting launch


America hits a Double


by Gideon Marcus

Three for Three

Despite the clear success represented by Voskhod 2, it would be folly to overlook the fact that it has been a tremendous week for NASA.  The Ranger program, once the most ill-starred of NASA endeavors, has just completed its third successful mission in a row.  Less than six hours ago, at 3:08 AM PDT, Ranger 9 crashed into the crater Alphonsus in the lunar highlands.

The prior two successful Rangers, 7 and 8, were largely handmaidens to the Project Apollo.  They returned thousands of photographs of potential landing sites for the crewed lunar program.  Ranger 9, on the other hand, was the first mission with a primarily scientific aim.  In order for us to understand the Moon, its construction, and its history, we need close-up information on as many different types of terrain as possible — and no two regions of the Moon are more distinct from each other than the mountains of the lunar highlands and the relatively flat Maria or "seas".  Alphonsus is particularly interesting as it has a large central peak that may be evidence of lunar vulcanism from an ancient period.

Launched at 1:37 PM PDT on March 21, the Atlas Agena carrying Ranger 9 quickly disappeared into the cloudy sky.  The reliable booster's aim was true, propelling the spacecraft first into Earth orbit, and then off toward its final destination.  The next day, Ranger fired its own engines, correcting its course to mathematical perfection. 

Today, at Impact -20 Minutes, Ranger 9 warmed up its television cameras.  Images began appearing at the JPL auditorium…and around the nation, broadcast to anyone who was up to see it (and who had an online TV station to tune into!) This was the first time a robotic mission had been simulcast, and it was very exciting.  Now if only they could time their missions to be more accommodating to the aged thirty-nine year old science writers who cover them…

There were originally supposed to be 12, or even 15 Rangers, but because it took so long for them to work properly, there are now more advanced missions that are superseding them, namely Lunar Orbiter and Surveyor.  This is just as well.  While Ranger has been a triumph of engineering and science, bearing unexpected dividends in the successful spinoff spacecraft, Mariner 2, there is only so much one can learn from TV pictures.  Indeed, initial reports suggest that while Ranger 9's photos discovered new craters within Alphonsus that might be evidence for vulcanism, as Dr. Harold Urey quipped, it won't be until we have chemists on the Moon that we can draw solid conclusions.

In any event, bravo NASA, and bravo Ranger. 

Two in Three

After the spectacular mission of Comrades Tereshkova and Bykovsky in June 1963, there was a long pause in crewed spaceflight.  The Mercury program had ended in May '63 with the day-long mission of Gordo Cooper in Faith 7.  Talk of extending Mercury was poopooed (though you can get an idea of what might have happened if you read the excellent novel, Marooned).  For more than a year, as Mercury's 2-seat successor, Gemini, suffered delay after delay, we waited for Khruschev's shoe to drop.

And the Soviets did beat us back to space with their three-man flight last October, though the success of that mission was somewhat eclipsed by the Soviet coup that took place just a couple hundred miles beneath the orbiting space capsule.  Voskhod 2, with its remarkable space walk, only seems to further the Soviet lead.

Yet the American turtle still has ambitions to beat the Red Hare.  The third Gemini mission (the first and second were uncrewed test flights) had been planned for this month for some time, and yesterday morning, Gemini 3 took off from Cape Canaveral carrying astronauts Gus Grissom and John Young for a three-orbit test flight. 

A lot has changed since John Glenn's pioneering three-orbit flight in Friendship 7, just three years ago.  Both Grissom and Young were kept busy with a slew of biological experiments to conduct in orbit.  Grissom got to conduct the very first spacecraft maneuver, firing the ship's engines once per orbit to change its altitude and velocity.  Neither Mercury nor Vostok had this capability, and I haven't read anything that suggests Voskhod has it, either.  Score one for the home team!

In addition to the ordinary drama that attaches to every space mission, the astronauts created some of their own.  A couple of hours into the flight, as Gemini drifted along its second orbit, it was time for the astronauts to sample their carefully prepared space food.  This meal was lavishly prepared by NASA scientists to be nutritious, compact, and resistant to creating crumbs that could drift into and short vital ship components. 

Whereupon astronaut John Young pulled out a corned beef sandwich from his pocket, ate a bite, and offered it to his commander.  Grissom took a polite nibble, commenting on the sandwich's inability to stay together, and quickly put the thing in his pocket.  Apparently, this was all the brainchild of Schirra, the most renowned prankster of the Mercury 7. 

Beyond this incident, the very name Grissom chose for the first crewed Gemini was something of a scandal.  Christening a spacecraft has always been the privilege of its commander, and Grissom, sensitive to the fate of his last ship, chose an appropriate name: "Molly Brown."  This, of course, was the name of the eponymous character from The Unsinkable Molly Brown, a popular broadway musical about a survivor of the Titanic disaster.

NASA felt that the name lacked dignity and insisted on a change.  Grissom dug in his heels, insisting that if he had to change the name, it would be to Titanic.  NASA gave in.

Gemini 3 completed its three orbits without incident and reentered the atmosphere four and a half hours after leaving it.  Unfortunately, Molly Brown plunged back into the atmosphere somewhat off course.  Grissom tried to steer the capsule (such as it is possible to maneuver a shuttle-cock shaped craft) closer to the Atlantic recovery fleet, but the craft ultimately splashed down some 84 kilometers short.  It took a good half hour for the carrier, U.S.S. Intrepid, to arrive.  In the interim, Grissom and Young sweltered, the commander unwilling to open the capsule and risk another swamped spacecraft.  It is my understanding that Molly Brown is still decorated with Schirra's sandwich…

Minor issues aside, Gemini 3 was a fully successful flight, officially man-rating the Gemini spacecraft.  The next mission, currently scheduled for late spring, will feature the American version of the vacuum shuffle.  The first American spacewalk was originally planned for next year, but Leonov's jaunt changed all that.  Sometimes the rabbit gives the turtle a little goose…

(If you're wondering why the second Mercury astronaut got the honor of commanding the mission, it's because Alan Shepard, the first Mercury astronaut, has been taken off flight status due to an inner ear disease, and astronaut Slayton, the only Mercury astronaut who hasn't flown a mission, was grounded earlier for a heart condition.  I'd assumed that Wally Schirra would command Gemini 4 (Glenn retired to go into politics; Carpenter retired to become an aquanaut), and that Cooper would take Gemini 5.  Apparently, however, Ed White of the second group of astronauts so impressed his peers that he will command the next Gemini mission.  Because of the shifting Gemini schedules, Cooper is still taking Gemini 5, but Schirra is going after him, commanding Gemini 6.)

The Score

So there you have it.  In the last six months, the Soviets have orbited five men, one of whom stepped into Outer Space.  The Americans orbited just two, but they autonomously drove their own spacecraft.  Meanwhile, Ranger 9 raised the total of close-up pictures of the Moon to nearly 20,000 whereas the Russians still haven't added to the handful provided by Luna 3 more than five years ago!

I guess we'll see what happens.  Will the next flight be Gemini 4 or Voskhod 3?



We'll be talking about these space flights and more at a special presentation of our "Come Time Travel with Me" panel, the one we normally do at conventions, on March 27 at 6PM PDT.  Come register to join us!  It's free and fun…and you might win a prize!




[February 20, 1965] Twice as nice (Ranger 8)


by Gideon Marcus

Last time, I talked about how America's space program has reached a level of reliability that you can…well…rely on!  Three days ago, at 1:05 PM EST, February 17, 1965, the eighth in the Ranger moon probe series took off successfully from Cape Kennedy.

Really, a Ranger has three launches.  First, the Atlas-Agena launched Rancher from the surface to a "parking orbit" 115 miles above the Earth.  Fourteen minutes after that, the Agena upper stage fired again for 90 seconds, changing Ranger's orbit such that its trajectory would intersect with the Moon.  Finally, the next day, Ranger executed a mid-course burn, firing its onboard engines for 59 seconds.  Now, instead of missing the Moon by 1,136 miles, it was set to hit Mare Tranquilitas at 4:57 AM EST, February 20.

That target, one of the darker areas of the Moon known as a "sea", was not easily decided upon.  Since Ranger 7 had impacted the Sea of Clouds, some scientists wanted Ranger 8 to hit a different kind of lunar terrain, perhaps the highlands further north.  Others were keen on exactly duplicating Ranger 7's mission so as to have two sets of data they could compare.  Ultimately, however, program manager George Mueller chose a target that would be support the Apollo mission — a flat area close to the equator.

Ranger 7 had started started its footage just ten minutes before impact.  Ranger 8, on the other hand, started shooting 23 minutes before the crash so that its first images would match the resolution that could be gotten from the best Earth-based cameras.  The moment of truth was a tense one — Ranger 6 had died right at the moment it turned on its TV cameras.

But Ranger 8 performed beautifully, taking a broader swath of photos than its predecessor and revealing an unprecedented wealth of information on the lunar surface before it kamikazed into the Sea of Tranquility at just under 6,000 mph.  Before its demise, it had returned 7,000 photos of the lunar surface.

At first blush, it doesn't look like we've learned much new.  The pictures Ranger 8 returned might well be swapped with those from Ranger 7 and none would be wiser.  On the other hand, it is nice to know that the Seas of the Moon are consistent.

What we still don't know is how safe the Moon is to land on.  Drs. Urey, Kuiper, and Whitaker all believe the lunar soil will hold a spacecraft, the latter two saying that the Ranger data say the Moon's dirt is something like crunchy snow in texture.  But it won't be until the soft-landing Surveyors start going to the Moon next year that we'll have real answers.

Originally, there were going to be up to seventeen Rangers.  However, the lack of success of earlier missions, and the fact that new spacecraft in the form of Lunar Orbiter and Surveyor will be online shortly, has reduced the remaining Ranger missions to just one.

As a result, it is likely that Ranger 9 will be given a more purely scientific mission, perhaps to some place no Apollo crew will visit.  Either way, given America's current track record, and that of Ranger, specifically, we can all hope it will be a crashing success!






[February 18, 1965] OSO Exciting!  (February 1965 Space Roundup)


by Gideon Marcus

Remember the early days of the Space Race, when launches came about once a month, and there was plenty of time to ruminate over the significance of each one?

Those days are long past, my friends.  Like every other aspect of this crazy modern world we live in, the pace of space missions is only accelerating.  Just look at this grab bag of space headlines, any one of which might have been front page news just a few years ago:

Staring at the Sun

Three years ago, NASA launched the first of its "Observatory Class" satellites, the 200 kg Orbiting Solar Observatory (OSO).  Its mission was unprecedented: to get the first long-term observations of the Sun in all of the frequencies of the electro-magnetic spectrum, not just the narrow windows visible from the Earth's surface.

For two years, OSO gazed at the Sun with its thirteen instruments, dutifully reporting its findings to the ground.  The observatory revolutionized our understanding of our neighborhood star, particularly in finding the correlation between solar flares and the little microflares that precede them. 

OSO 1 went silent last May.  Like nature, NASA abhors a vacuum — at least one without satellites floating through it!  So on February 3, 1965, OSO 2 sailed into orbit to pick up where its predecessor had left off.

The new observatory only has eight instruments, but given that the weight of the craft is similar to that of OSO 1, I have to believe the new load-out is intentional.  Moreover, OSO 2 has some neat developments.  Its Ultraviolet spectrometer, Solar x-ray and UV telescope, and White-light coronagraph are all mounted on the "sail" of the spacecraft, and they can scan the disk of the sun from end to end, like a TV camera.  That should allow for more precision in the measurements.

Also, OSO 2 has a digital telemetry system rather than the analog FM system of OSO 1.  Digital systems are far less prone to error, and more information can be sent over any given length of time.  The new system can dump 3 million bits of data in just 5.5 minutes.

Finally, OSO 2 is smarter — it can accept some 70 commands from the ground instead of just 8.  Just what NASA scientists do with those commands, I don't know.  Maybe OSO brews great coffee.

The most important thing about OSO 2 is the timing of its launch.  Every 11 years, the Sun completes an output cycle, warbling from active to inactive status.  1965 is the Solar minimum, and this year marks a concerted international effort to watch the Sun from many different vantage points to take advantage of the opportunity.

You can bet OSO 2 will have some interesting data for us come 1966!

Requiem for a Vanguard

Hands over hearts, folks.  On February 12, NASA announced that Vanguard 1 had gone silent, and the agency was finally turning off its 108 Mhz ground transceivers, set up during the International Geophysical Year.  The grapefruit-sized satellite, launched March 17, 1958, was the fourth satellite to be orbited.  It had been designed as a minimum space probe and, had its rocket worked in December 1957, would have been America's first satellite rather than its second.  Nevertheless, rugged little Vanguard 1 beat all of its successors for lifespan.  Sputniks and Explorers came and went.  Vanguards 2 and 3 shut off long ago.  Yet the grapefruit that the Naval Research Laboratory made kept going beep-beep, helping scientists on the ground measure the shape of the Earth from the wiggle and decay of Vanguard's orbit.

The satellite's cry had slowly become weaker as its solar cell-charged batteries failed.  Finally, some time last year, Vanguard could be heard no more, though NASA kept listening for several more months.  It's not all sad news, however: Vanguard 1 will remain in orbit for hundreds of years more, and it can still be optically tracked.  That means it still has a long, useful life ahead of it, even now that it is mute.

Whole World in its Eyes

Here's a little TIROS tidbit.  Remember TIROS 9?  The first weather satellite launched into a polar orbit so it can see the whole Earth once a day as the planet rotates underneath?

We now have the very first picture of the world's weather.  It won't be the last:

The joys of being regular

There was a time when space was a hit-and-miss affair.  Seemed every time I opened the paper, there was news of yet another rocket blowing up.  These days, we can practically take success for granted.  Ranger 7 broke a six mission losing streak, the first two Gemini launches went swimmingly, TIROS has gone nine for nine.

Similarly, the Saturn 1 rocket, the biggest booster ever made, has had an impeccable launch record.  The lift-off on February 16 kept the streak going; the eight engine monstrosity delivered what I believe is the biggest satellite ever to be put into orbit.

Called Pegasus, it is an enormous cylinder with giant panels affixed to either side.  The panels occupy some 2300 square feet, and their job is to measure the density of micrometeoroids in orbit over the course of a many-year lifespan.

It sounds pretty mundane when you reduce the mission to its bare essentials.  Pegasus is like a big fly-catcher, spending its orbit running into space rocks.  But it's not the experiment that's so exciting, but the idea that we can now loft giant structures with a single launch.  Imagine that Pegasus was actually a space station module, and that it's wings were solar panels.  Now imagine assembling a few of them together using a maneuverable spacecraft, perhaps a Gemini derivative…

Yes, America is just on the edge of being in the space construction business.

Scenes to Come

Yesterday (February 17, 1965), the eighth Ranger blasted off from Cape Kennedy, destination: Moon.  If we've truly reached an era of reliability, we can expect the craft to hit its target on the morning of the 20th.  Stay tuned — you'll read about it here first!




[January 28, 1965] Castor, Pollux, and TIROS (Gemini 2 and TIROS 9)

January's been exciting, space-wise.  Read on about two of the month's biggest developments!


by Gideon Marcus

Up and Down

Almost two years ago, Gordo Cooper orbited the Earth for a full day in his spacecraft called Faith 7.  This marked the end of the Project Mercury, America's first manned space program.  Work was already apace on Project Apollo, a three-seat spaceship scheduled to land on and return from the Moon before 1970.  However, with the Soviets launching spectacular Vostok flights with discouraging regularity, President Kennedy was not about to let several years go by while the Communists continued to rack up a lead in the Space Race.

Plus, it's important to walk before running.  Mercury was barely a crawl — we provided a minimum capsule for a single human to spend no more than a day in space.  The craft was a technological dead end (though there is some talk of turning the surplus four capsules into space telescopes). 

Meanwhile, the Apollo system consists of four components: the Command Module where the astronauts sit, the Service Module with engines and life support, the Lunar Module that will land on the Moon (itself comprising two parts!) and the trans-stage that will boost the whole stack from the Earth.  To successfully get this unwieldy affair safely across half a million miles of space will require the ability to change orbits, rendezvous, dock, and other complicated maneuvers.

Some kind of bridge is necessary.  It now exists, and it's called Gemini.

The two-seat Gemini is a real spacecraft, literally able to fly rings around a Mercury…or a Vostok for that matter.  In the ten or so planned flights, its pilots will not only learn the skills necessary for Apollo missions (and thus become the prime candidates when those missions happen), but they will also be in space far longer than anyone has been before.  Missions of up to two weeks are possible with Gemini!

As with Mercury, uncrewed test missions are necessary to make sure Gemini is up for human use.  Unlike Mercury, there were only two such Gemini missions planned — a dividend of Project Mercury (and there may have been a chimponaut strike, too).

Mission One was an orbital test, mostly to make sure the new Titan II missile worked properly as a spaceship booster.  Launched almost a year ago, on April 8, 1964, the mission went exactly as planned: Gemini 1's instrument pallets went silent after three hours of battery-powered transmission, the craft burned up a few days later upon reentry, and the holes drilled into the heat shield that adorned its hind end ensured its fiery doom.

Of course, it's all very nice that Gemini goes up, but could it come down?  That was the goal of the Gemini 2 mission.  Like Alan Shepard's flight into space back in May 1961, Gemini 2 was a suborbital jaunt planned to last all of 19 minutes. 

At four minutes after 9 AM, Eastern Time, the Gemini-Titan booster staged at Cape Kennedy's Launch Complex 19 flared to life.  Twin Aerojet engines blasted 215,000 pounds of thrust, hurling the rocket into the air at ever increasing speed as the red launch tower swung down from vertical to horizontal.  152 seconds after lift-off, the engines went silent, and the second stage cast off the first with an explosive disdain.  Just three minutes after that, stage two also went silent, and the Gemini capsule was cast off to fly freely. 

Gemini 2 wasted no time in turning itself around, and just seven minutes after launch, at T +415 seconds, the spacecraft fired its retrorockets, sending the ship on a collision course with the Earth.  It was a steep landing, designed to burden the heat shield with a load higher than what any human crew might experience.  But the little ship that Douglas built was up to the task, crashing through the layers of the atmosphere without incident, unfurling its parachutes and landing in the Atlantic Ocean almost three thousand miles downrange.

It had not quite been a perfect flight: a fuel cell that would have been the spacecraft's electricity supply during a long flight failed before lift-off, and the ship's cooling system ran hot.  But it was good enough for government work.  Astronauts Gus Grissom and John Young, the former already a space veteran, are scheduled to go up on Gemini 3 come spring.  With luck, we could see as many as three more launches before year's end.

I in the Sky

Since 1960, TIROS TV satellites have been keeping tabs on Earth's weather.  Zooming around the Earth every couple of hours, they have snapped shots of incipient hurricanes, raging storms, and swathes of clear skies in a way that was pure science fiction just half a decade before.

Scheduled to be superseded by the advanced NIMBUS satellites, NASA decided that there's no reason to stop using what works!  So TIROS just got upgraded, and the first of a new line was launched on January 22, 1965.

The ninth in the series, also called "TIROS I", is special for a number of reasons.  Firstly, it is the first TIROS to be launched into a polar orbit.  Instead of cruising East to West like most satellites, it circles North to South, with the Earth rotating underneath it.  This allows TIROS to photograph every part of the planet once a day.

Moreover, the TIROS I is of a new "cartwheel" design, spinning in space for stabilization with its axis perpendicular to Earth.  From the ground, it appears to roll around in the sky, its twin TV cameras mounted on the spinning rim to snap a shot once every three seconds.

Everyone complains about the weather.  Thanks to the new TIROS, now we can do more about it (or at least react with warning!) than ever before.  Sure, Gemini and Apollo will grab the headlines over the next few years, but it's the hard-working robotic satellites that are really ushering in the future.

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[January 8, 1965] The Skylark of Space (Britain's Skylark Sounding Rocket)


by Kaye Dee

Hopefully Doc Smith will forgive me for borrowing the title of his famous story for my article, but I couldn’t resist because it fits so well. Since I began writing here, I’ve been wanting to talk about the Skylark sounding rocket, the first British rocket capable of reaching space (whether you go by the US Air Force and NASA definition of space beginning at 50 miles, or accept the Federation Aeronautique Internationale definition, based on the work of Theodore von Karman, of 100 kilometres/62 miles).


A different kind of Skylark reaching for the stars!

Hatching the Skylark

Sounding rockets, which can carry payloads into space, but do not have enough thrust to put them into orbit, are often neglected when discussing the Space Race. But they are perhaps more important (and certainly more often launched!) than satellites.

These suborbital rockets were still a relatively new technology a decade ago, and even by the end of the International Geophysical Year (IGY) only a handful of countries (including Australia, I’m proud to say) had developed a national sounding rocket capability. First announced in 1955, the Skylark sounding rocket was developed for the IGY by the UK Ministry of Defence’s Royal Aircraft Establishment (RAE), in collaboration with the Royal Society’s Gassiot Committee, which focuses on meteorology and upper atmosphere research.


Diagram showing the original design for the Skylark rocket. The design has been evolving ever since, improving the capabilities of the vehicle

The new rocket was originally called the Gassiot High Altitude Vehicle, which is a bit of a mouthful, and the story is that, in 1956, one of the engineers working on the rocket’s design at the RAE decided that he would like to see it named “Skylark”. I don't know if he was a fan of Doc Smith's work, but a class of UK rocket motors is named after British birds, so that was more likely his inspiration for the name. In any case, he apparently put up a paper to his superiors suggesting that the rocket should be renamed to something that would simpler and more memorable for public relations and offered a list of alternatives, none of which were particularly appealing except, very deliberately, Skylark. The plan worked, and the name Skylark was approved for the rocket.

Flying to Australia

Sounding rockets, like test missiles, need a lot of empty land on which to fall back to Earth; Woomera was the obvious place for Britain’s new scientific rocket to be launched. Skylark components and payloads are made in the UK and then flown to Australia by transport planes. These include a special dedicated “explosives” transport plane that carries the rocket engines to Australia fully-loaded with their solid propellant. The rocket motors are delivered directly to Woomera, while the payload parts arrive at the Weapons Research Establishment’s (WRE) Salisbury facility, near Adelaide (see June entry), where they are assembled by WRE technicians and British payload specialists and then transported to Woomera to be fitted to the launch rocket.


A Skylark instrument bay and nosecone being tested in a workshop at the WRE's facility in Salisbury, South Australia

Because of its slow acceleration, the Skylark needs a very long launch rail to ensure its stability in flight and this massive tower dominates Range E at Woomera, where the sounding rocket launches take place. It’s 80 feet tall and weighs 35 tons, so transporting it to Australia was quite a task. Interestingly, because of steel shortages in Britain when the tower was being designed, it’s actually made out of war surplus Bailey bridge segments!


View of Range E at Woomera where sounding rockets are launched. The massive Skylark launch tower dwarfs everything around it. Australia's first sounding rocket, Long Tom, also used this launcher initially

Skylark Acsending


An unusual philatelic cover from Uncle Ernie's collection marking a Skylark launch in 1958 – and British nuclear tests at the Maralinga range, adjacent to Woomera

The first Skylark launch took place in February 1957, before the official start of the IGY in July that year, with the first three flights being performance-proving flights. On its fourth flight, in November 1957, the Skylark showed that it could reach the space environment, soaring to an altitude of 79.5 miles. This flight was also the first to carry a suite of scientific instruments provided by British universities, including two experiments that have since been flown on many Skylarks: a ‘grenade’ experiment and a ‘window’ experiment. In the grenade experiments, grenades are ejected from the rocket during its flight and the explosions detected on the ground by microphones and flash detectors. From these measurements, temperatures and wind velocities at different altitudes can be determined. In the ‘window’ experiment, strips of radar chaff (also known as ‘window’) made from aluminium are ejected into the atmosphere to be tracked by radar, which provides velocity measurements of upper atmosphere winds.


I love this timelapse photo of a Skylark night launch, taken in 1958. SL04, the first Skylark to reach space, was also launched at night, although it seems that no-one thought to take a picture of that historic launch!

Of course, since 1957, the number and range of scientific experiments being flown on Skylarks has steadily increased, helping to provide a new understanding of the conditions in the upper atmosphere and the fringes of space. When the first experiment releasing sodium vapour into the atmosphere to study atmospheric density and winds flew in late 1958, people in areas hundreds of miles from Woomera thought that the strange sight of a reddish-yellow cloud might be associated with Sputnik III, the massive Soviet satellite that was in orbit at the time!


Clouds over South Australia, taken from above by a Skylark rocket in 1962, as part of a meteorological experiment

Skylark Improving

The original design of the Skylark rocket used a single Raven solid rocket motor. To increase its altitude and payload carrying capacity, different variants of the Raven have been used, and in 1960 the Skylark became a two-stage launcher, with the use of a Cuckoo motor for an additional boost on some flights. There have also been experiments with a parachute system, to try to recover some instruments or photographic plates intact, but so far these have not been very successful.


A Skylark rocket enhanced with a Cuckoo boost motor soaring into the stratosphere

Until very recently all Skylark flights were unstabilised, but just last year there were two experimental flights using Sun sensors to provide stabilisation. The development of this technique will make the Skylark more suitable for taking astronomical observations at high altitude, above the thickness of the atmosphere, and I’ve heard that there are plans for small X-ray and Ultra-violet telescopes and other astronomy payloads to be flown on future launches.

A Century of Skylarks


The Research Vehicles Group and others involved with Skylark at Woomera celebrate the 100th Skylark launch

At the end of September the Skylark notched up its 100th flight, which is perhaps not surprising as the launch rate has been steadily increasing. There were 19 flights in both 1963 and 64, and this year looks as if it will be even busier. The WRE has a section that manages the Skylark launches – the Research Vehicles Group: because of the high rate of firings and the time it takes to prepare each rocket for launch, there are four Skylark launch teams within the Group, each one dedicated to a specific Skylark flight.


Technicians from a WRE Skylark launch team preparing a rocket for firing in 1961

1964 also saw another new step for the Skylark, with two launches taking place for the European Space Research Organisation (ESRO) at Italy’s Salto di Quirra Range on Sardinia. This range was established in 1956 under the management of Luigi Broglio, who I mentioned last month as the mastermind behind Italy’s first satellite (see December entry). This Range is providing facilities to ESRO until its own sounding rocket facility near Kiruna in Sweden is completed.

Skylark looks set to become the workhorse of the European sounding rocket program, just as it is for Britain. NASA has even launched Skylarks out of Woomera: as part of a co-operative Ultra-violet astronomy programme with Australia, four ‘NASA’ Skylarks were launched at Woomera in 1961

Skylark in Orbit

Skylark rockets have also played a role in Britain’s Ariel satellite programme, helping to test out instrumentation and experiments before they were included in the satellites. Like Canada , Britain launched its first satellite, Ariel 1, in 1962 (see September entry), with help from the United States, which provided the satellite body in which the British experiments were installed, as well as the launch. In March last year, Ariel 2 was launched for Britain by NASA. In advance of both these flights, so much of the equipment was checked out beforehand on Skylark flights that I’ve heard that some wit described the satellites as “Skylark in orbit”!

Ariel 1

Britain's Ariel 1 and 2 satellites are almost identical. The scientific instruments on both were tested out on Skylark flights before being launched into space

It's been exciting to watch the progress of the Skylark programme and I expect that this versatile sounding rocket will be operational for many years to come. Australia has it's own sounding rocket program that has been designed to complement the Skylark research in many ways. I'll have to devote an article to it in the not too distant future



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[January 2, 1965] Say that again in English? (Talking to a Machine, Part Two)


by Gideon Marcus

A Matter of Time

We are now in the latter half of the 1960s, and computers have become a fundamental part of our lives.  I previously discussed how computers are really quite simple, only understanding ones and zeroes.  And yet, with a bit of ingenuity and a lot of patience, a computer can be instructed ("programmed') to do almost anything.co

Patience is the operative word.  As we saw last time, when programming in a language the computer understands natively, it takes six lines of computer language ("code") to add two numbers, and thirty just to have the computer use the Pythagorean Theorem to determine the hypotenuse of a right triangle.  Can you imagine doing advanced trigonometry that way?  Simple calculus?  How about advanced calculus?

If you're a scientist, you probably know advanced mathematics, but it's unlikely that you have any idea how to write machine language code.  And given that every computer speaks its own version of machine language, you certainly couldn't be expected know how to speak to all of them in their native tongue. 

But if you've got a thorny problem to solve, and the math is too complex (or more importantly, time-consuming) for you to handle on your own, you've got to be able to use a computer.  At that point, given the tools we've got thus far, your only option would be to employ a human translator to convert your problem into something the computer can understand.

People like this don't grow on trees!  It's not as if there are freelance software programmers out there who will take a coding assignment like piecework.  Computer tenders are full-time personnel employed by the institution that bought the machine.  Their time is precious.  They can't afford to write thousands of lines of program code every time an egghead wants to run a Fourier Transformation.  Moreover, they probably aren't scientists: would a computer gnome even know linear algebra from a serial circuit?

What's needed is a machine to talk to the machine.

A Language is Born

In 1954, a ten-person team led by IBM engineer, John Backus, developed the first robot translator.  Backus wasn't interested in plane tickets or phone bills; he simply wanted it to be easier for scientists to run math equations on a computer.  Sophisticated business applications could come later.


John Backus


Lois Habit, the lone woman on the team

Backus' team created FORTRAN: Formula Translator.  And it sparked a revolution.

FORTRAN actually comprised two elements: a new programming language for humans and a robot middleman for the computer.

First, the language.  FORTRAN, like any language, has a grammar and a vocabulary.  There are dozens of words, all of them more or less recognizable to an English speaker, though their definitions are highly specific.  Also, they must be entered in a grammatically rigorous fashion for them to work. 

But once one gets the knack, its orders of magnitude easier to program in FORTRAN than machine language.  For example, last time, we saw it took six lines of code just to add two numbers, and we had to include the numbers as part of the program.  What if we wanted a general program to add any two numbers?

It'd look like this:


PROGRAM ADD

C This program will add two numbers

INTEGER FIRST, SECOND, TOTAL

10 FORMAT(I5)
20 FORMAT(I6)

READ (5,10) FIRST

READ (5,10) SECOND

TOTAL = FIRST + SECOND

WRITE (6,20) TOTAL

END


Even without explanation, you probably were able to figure out how this program works, but here's some extra information:

Every FORTRAN program starts with PROGRAM (followed by the program's name) and ends with END.  At the beginning of every program, one declares their variables, informing the computer how to label any data it manipulates.  In this case, we're playing with integers, but variables can be real numbers or even strings of text.  FORMAT tells the program how many digits the variables can have (in this case, up to five for entry, six for the total).

When a line starts with a "C", any comment (generally explanatory) may follow.  What a boon for error-checking ("debugging") that is!

If you are lucky enough to have direct keyboard access to the computer to enter ("READ") the numbers to be added, and a CRT monitor on which the computer can display ("WRITE") the results, the interaction after the program is run will take seconds.  If you have to enter information with punch cards and view the results via printer, things will take a bit longer (and the numbers in the parentheses will be different).  But that's a topic for another article.

The whole program takes just 10 lines, one of which is optional.  Sure, it's half again as long as the equivalent machine code, but it can add any two numbers rather than two pre-coded ones.

Not only that, but that thirty line Pythagorean equation program can be done in just ten lines, too!  That's because FORTRAN includes a SQRT (square root) command.  Better still, there are commands for every trigonometric function (SIN, ASIN, COS, ACOS, etc.) so with just a few more lines, you can also get information on any triangle using the Law of Sines and Law of Cosines. 

Now you can see just how powerful a programming language can be!

Robot Middleman

Every computer comes with a kind of translator already hardwired into its permanent memory.  Otherwise, it couldn't interpret (for example) 101 as "Add" and 111 as "Print".  But, as we've discussed, they are incredibly minimal.  For a computer to understand the language of FORTRAN, it has to be programmed with an extra translator called a compiler. 

The compiler is a program input into the computer in machine language, of course (how else could it understand it?), but once entered, the compiler can be run to translate any FORTRAN program.  The compiler will completely translate ("assemble") the FORTRAN commands into a machine language program and execute it. 

This process is not instantaneous, just as a conversation between two people using an interpreter requires extra time.  Moreover, the compiler-assembled program is generally not as efficiently written (i.e. it takes more lines of code) as one optimized for brevity by an expert human. 

But because one saves so much time coding in FORTRAN, and because a human machine language expert isn't needed, the result is a tremendous net increase in efficiency.  In fact, programmers have been 500% quicker in their coding as a result, and they can focus on the problem they are trying to solve rather than the daunting task of talking in ones and zeroes or some arcane machine language.  That's worth the small price in computing time inefficiency.

Programming for everyone

FORTRAN was the first "higher-level" programming language, but it was quickly joined by many others.  They include LISP ("LISt Processing"), COBOL ("COmmon Business-Oriented Language"), and ALGOL ("ALGOrithmic Language"), each with their own specialized vocabulary and capabilities.  Indeed, it would be no exaggeration to say that a computer that can't read a higher-level language is almost useless; it's no surprise that FORTRAN was developed less than a decade after ENIAC, the first computer, came on-line.

But, as amazing as all of these languages are, their usage remains daunting.  FORTRAN et. al. are very good for the applications they were designed for, but not terribly flexible for anything else.

What this means is that, while FORTRAN might be useful to a physicist for making mathematical calculations, and COBOL is great for a corporate engineer to automate inventory control, there is no language for general application.  No introductory computing language that one (say, a college student) might learn to familiarize oneself with the theory of higher-level programming.

Moreover, most people don't have direct access to a computer, which means laboriously using a keypunch machine to put holes in punchcards (with one line of code per card), giving the stack to a technician, and waiting who-knows-how-long to get a result. 

The stage has been set for a simpler, even higher-level programming language that will allow anyone to dive feet first into coding — and that's basically what we'll be talking about in the next article in this series.






[December 21, 1964] Italy Joins the Space Race! (San Marco 1 and Explorer 26)


by Kaye Dee

The biggest news in space this month is that Italy has joined the Space Race, with the launch of its first satellite San Marco 1. Named in honour of Saint Mark the Evangelist, the patron saint of Venice and protector of Venetian sailors, the San Marco launch is the first mission in a programme that began in 1961.

The Italian von Braun

The San Marco satellite programme is the brainchild of Luigo Broglio, an Italian military officer and aerospace engineer who’s already earned himself the nickname “the Italian von Braun”. Broglio established the Salto di Quirra missile test range on Sardinia in 1956, which is now also being used to launch British Skylark rockets (like those being used for upper atmosphere research at Woomera) for the European Space Research Organisation (ESRO). ESRO is the sister program to ELDO (see June entry), developing the satellites that will fly on ELDO’s Europa rockets. Convinced by Italian physicist Prof. Edoardo Amaldi (a co-founder of ESRO) that Italy should have its own space program, Broglio persuaded the Italian Prime Minister in early 1961 that Italy should develop a national satellite program and its own satellite launching facility.


Luigi Broglio was both an officer in the Italian Air Force and the Dean of Aerospace Engineering at La Sapienza University

As it happened, the international Committee on Space Research (COSPAR) was meeting in Florence in April that year, so Broglio took the opportunity of discussing with NASA Italy’s participation in the same program that has already enabled Canada and Britain to launch their satellites on NASA rockets (see September entry)

San Marco Approved

The Italian Government approved the San Marco programme in October 1961 with the task of building the San Marco satellites allocated to the Commissione per le Ricerche Spaziali (CRS), or Commission for Space Research. This group of distinguished Italian scientists and engineers was initially formed by Amaldi and Broglio within the Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche (CNR), the Italian National Research Council, to canvass support for an Italian space programme.

A formal Memorandum of Understanding between the CRS (represented by Broglio) and NASA (represented by Deputy Administrator Hugh Dryden) was signed on 31 May 1962. Under this MOU, the United States agreed to provide Scout rockets to Italy and train the Italian launch crew, while Italy developed its satellites and built a national launch facility. NASA also agreed to provide two sub-orbital test flights from its Wallops island launch facility, using Shotput sounding rockets, so that the Italian launch crew could gain experience in launch procedures and the CRS could test instruments for the first satellite. These two test flights took place in 1963.


A philatelic cover issued to mark the first of the two San Marco Shotput test flights in 1963

Italy decided that its national launch facility would be a modified mobile oil rig platform, that would be towed to an equatorial location off the coast of Kenya. This would enable the Scout rockets to be fired to the east and take advantage of the boost provided by the Earth’s rotation. The Italian oil company Eni was contracted to provide the mobile launch platform, but the construction has been delayed and the offshore facility will not be ready until sometime next year.

Liftoff for San Marco 1

Because of the delays with the launch platform development, San Marco 1 (also known as San Marco A) was fired from Wallops Island as a training exercise for the Italian launch crew ahead of future launches in the Indian Ocean, with the successful launch taking place on 15 December (16 December here in Australia).


San Marco 1 on the launchpad. As a joint US-Italian project, the Scout carries the legends "United States" and "Italia"

The battery-powered satellite sat directly on top of the Scout’s fourth stage, with both the rocket motor and satellite contained within the fairing. The spherical satellite has a total mass of 254 lbs. and a diameter of 26 in. Four antennas are spaced around the equator of the satellite, which is painted longitudinally in black and white for thermal control.


Exterior view of San Marco 1, showing its thermal-regulation colour scheme

The main purpose of the San Marco programme is to conduct ionospheric research. However, being essentially a test satellite, San Marco 1 is only carrying a few experiments. Its major scientific instrument is the “Broglio scale”, which is designed to measure the density of the atmosphere at very high altitudes, although lower than the typical orbital altitudes used by other satellites. The CRS hopes that San Marco 1 and future missions will help to create a more precise model of the upper atmosphere in the low orbit environment. This should improve the re-entry predictions for both spacecraft and missiles. San Marco 1’s other main instrument is a radio transmitter, intended to study ionospheric effects on long-range radio communication. Undoubtedly, the future satellites in the series will be more sophisticated.


Cutaway view of San Marco 1

An interesting aspect of San Marco 1’s launch is that, although it took place in the US, the launch was handled by a NASA-trained Italian launch crew. This places Italy in a unique situation: unlike Canada and Britain, which provided their first satellites to NASA for launch on American rockets by American personnel, Italy effectively launched its own satellite. In fact, Italy now considers itself the third country in the world to operate its own satellite, after the Soviet Union and the United States.


Thanks to Uncle Ernie the stamp collector, here is one of the new launch covers for San Marco 1, highlighting its unique status as an Italian-launched satellite

San Marco 2 is scheduled to launch next year, and I’ll look forward to seeing Italy launch that satellite from its new national facility, which should be in place in Kenya by then.

Another Explorer in Orbit

As I write this, I’m delighted to report that another Explorer satellite has just been confirmed as safely in orbit! NASA is certainly committed to this programme, with such a regular series of satellites designed for understanding the space environment surrounding the Earth (see September entry). Explorer 26 is the latest probe in the series, designed to measure the Earth’s magnetic field and trapped high energy particles within it.


Explorer 26 is similar in design to its predecessors in the Energetic Particle Explorer series.

Explorer 26, also known as Energetic Particle Explorer (EPE)-D and S-3C, is a spin-stabilised, solar-cell powered satellite, weighing 101 lbs and carrying five experiments. Four of these instruments — the Solid-State Electron Detector, Omnidirectional and Unidirectional Electron and Proton Fluxes, Fluxgate Magnetometers and Proton-Electron Scintillation Detector — are designed for geomagnetic and high energy particle studies. The fifth experiment, the Solar Cell Damage experiment, is designed to quantify the degradation in solar cell performance due to radiation and evaluate the effectiveness of glass shields at preventing this degradation. I find this experiment particularly interesting, as solar cells are becoming increasingly used on satellites to provide power supplies that will last much longer than batteries.

The Energetic Particle Explorer series began in 1961 with Explorer 12 (EPE-A), launched in August 1961. All the satellites in the series so far have had the same basic design, but with progressively heavier instrumentation weight. They have all been launched from Cape Canaveral by Thor Delta vehicles.

Dreams for Down Under

I'm envious that Italy has been able to get its own space programme underway, while we here in Australia seem to have no immediate prospect of launching a national satellite. But I shouldn't complain too much: 1964 has been a very exciting year for space activities Down Under, with the ELDO programme finally underway. I’m looking forward to even more significant space achievements in 1965!


NASA characterised the first phase of the San Marco program as a joint US-Italian project. Both flags were flown at Wallops Island during the Shotput test and the San Marco 1 launch



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[December 5, 1964] Steady as she goes (January 1965 IF)


by Gideon Marcus

A tale of two missions

Mariner 4, launched November 28, 1964, is on its way to Mars.  Shortly after launch, the smart folks at Jet Propulsion Laboratory (some of whom I met last weekend!) determined that Mariner was going to miss its destination by some 200,000 kilometers.  So they calculated the nudge it would take to deflect the ship toward a closer rendezvous with the Red Planet.  This morning, the little spacecraft was ordered to fire its onboard engines for a 20 second burn, and it now looks like Mariner will come within just 10,000 kilometers of its target!

On the other side of the world, the Soviets have informed the world that their Zond 2 probe, launched two days after Mariner 4, needs no course correction.  On the other hand, on Dec. 2, it was reported that the probe is only generating half the power it's supposed to.

Similarly, in the science fiction magazine world, no fewer than three magazines got new editors this year (Fantasy and Science Fiction, Science Fantasy, and New Worlds), and two of them have the same editor with a different name (Amazing's and Fantastic's Cele Goldsmith is now Cele Lalli).

But in Fred Pohl's trinary system of Galaxy, Worlds of Tomorrow, and IF, not only is leadership unchanged, but so is content.  Nowhere is that clearer than in the January 1965 issue of IF, which like its predecessors, is an uneven mix of old and new authors, old and new ideas, and generally inferior but not unpleasant work. 

In other words, on course, but running on half-steam.

The Issue at Hand


by Gray Morrow

In many ways, this is not the issue Pohl wanted on the news stands.  The cover doesn't illustrate any of the contents of the issue; it's supposed to go with Jack Vance's novel, The Killing Machine.  But since that story ended up in book print before it could be serialized, it was pulled from appearing in the magazine.  Instead, we got the sequel to Fred Pohl's and Jack Williamson's The Reefs of Space, which had the virtue of being an IF-exclusive series and co-written by the editor. 

It's a good thing Pohl had it in his back pocket!

Starchild (Part 1 of 3), by Frederik Pohl and Jack Williamson


by Gray Morrow

Hundreds of years from now, the solar system is ruled by the Plan of Man, a computer-led collective in which everyone's lives are ordered, and dissent is rewarded with a quick trip to the body banks for organ harvesting.  But out in the stellar outskirts, in the frigid birthplace of comets, the steady creation of matter in the universe provides rich feeding grounds for the fusorians.  These cosmic plankton eaters in turn create vast reefs in space, homes to the seal-like spacelings and their predators, the dragonesque pyropods.  These reefs have also become shelters for Terran dissidents yearning to be free.  The Reefs of Space told the tale of their first human visitors.

Starchild is the story of Machine Major Boysie Gann, a spy sent to Polaris station to suss out traitors to the Plan.  He ends up kidnapped to the Reefs and then made a messenger to the Planner, the human liaison with the Planning Machine.  Mysteriously teleported back to Earth, Boysie bears with him The Writ of Liberation: if the Plan of Man does not end its attempts to subjugate the free people of the Reefs, the "Starchild" will blacken the Sun…

I was a bit chary of this serial at the beginning.  Williamson is a pulp writer from the way-back, and it shows.  Pohl can be brilliant, but Reefs was more pedestrian (except for the gripping middle section).  But Starchild kept me going the whole way, sort of a Cordwainer Smith "Instrumentality" story, though with less poetry.

Four stars so far.

Answering Service, by Alma Hill

A Boston fan and writer, Hill is new to my ken but has apparently been published since 1950. Service shows us a world where the SPCA has won, cats and other "aggressive" animals are tolerated only in zoos, and mice are overrunning the world without check.  One man is determined to reverse this situation.

Utterly forgettable.  Two stars.

The Recon Man, by Wilson Tucker


by Nodel

A young man wakes up from an amnesiac coma with a push to his back out the door of a house.  Onto a Heinlein moving road he goes, along with dozens of other male commuters to some mysterious labor destination.  A spitfire, himself, the other drones are so many zombies.  Only the pink jumpsuited women have any personality; they seem to run the show.

The man is harnessed to a machine, tasked with creating bacon by conceptualizing it so it can materialize in front of him.  He soon gets bored with this role and makes neckties and carpentry tools instead.  This shuts down the assembly line early, and one of the female supervisors takes him home to see what's wrong with him. 

Slowly, memories of a fatal car crash, centuries before in 1960, coalesce in the man's mind.  How did he get to this strange world?  For what purpose?  And how long does he have to live?

Recon Man is a neat little mystery with a truckload of dark implications.  I liked it a lot.  Four stars.

Vanishing Point, by Jonathan Brand


by Gray Morrow

This is the second outing by Brand, his first being a disappointment.  He fares better with this one, a space story within a bedtime story (the framing is cute but not particularly necessary) about Earth travelers on the first emissary mission to an alien race.

The place chosen for first contact is a sort of mock-Earth made by the aliens, a beautiful park of a world stocked with all sorts of game.  It even has a centenarian, human caretaker.  But neither the park, nor the old man, are what they seem.

Not bad.  Three stars.

The Heat Racers, by L. D. Ogle

Then we come to our traditional IF "first", the piece by a heretofore unpublished author (or at least an unpublished pseudonym).  This one is a vignette about a race of anti-grav sailboats.  I think.  The motive force and levitative technologies are never really explained.

Another trivial piece.  Two stars.

Retief, God-Speaker, by Keith Laumer


by Jack Gaughan

And last up, we have yet another installment in the increasingly tiresome saga of Retief, the diplomatic superspy of the future.  This one involves a race of money-grubbing, seven-foot, theocratic slobs, and the diminutive, subterranean aliens they mean to wipe out like vermin.  Can Retief establish formal relations with the former while saving the latter?

By the end of the novelette, you probably won't care.  This is easily the goofiest and most heavy-handed entry in the series.  I think it's time for Laumer to cut his losses.

Two stars.

Summing Up

All told, this month's issue is more "half a loaf" than "curate's egg".  The parts I liked were lots of fun, and as for the dreary bits, at least they made for quick reading.  I've said before that Pohl doesn't really have enough good material for three mags, but he could have a dynamite pair.

On the other hand, IF is a place to stick new authors and off-beat stories.  I just wish they were more consistently successes!

Maybe 1965 will be the year IF gets a mid-course correction…



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[December 1, 1964] Planet Four or Bust! (What we know about Mars)


by Gideon Marcus

Mars or Bust

This week, humanity embarked on its most ambitious voyage to date.  Its destination: Mars.

I use the term "humanity" advisedly, for this effort is a global one.  On November 28, 1964, the United States launched Mariner 4 from Cape Kennedy.  And just yesterday, the Soviet Union's Zond hurtled into space.  Both are bound for the Red Planet, due to arrive next summer. 

That both missions commenced so close to each other was not a coincidence.  Every two years, Earth and Mars are situated in their orbits such that a minimum of energy can be used to get from one planet to the other.  This favorable positioning applies equally to democracies and communist states.

Mariner 4 and Zond are not the first Martian probes: identical Mariner 3 was lost a few weeks ago, and Zond's predecessor, Mars 1, failed a couple of months before it could reach its target.  Let us hope these new spacecraft have more luck.  So far so good!

It is possible that these two probes will revolutionize our understanding of Mars, just as Mariner 2 changed our view of Venus forever.  It is, therefore, appropriate that I summarize our knowledge of the planet on the eve of collecting this bonanza of new information.

Another Earth?

Mars has been known to us since ancient times.  Because it wanders through the constellations throughout the year, it was classified as a "planet" (literally Greek for wanderer).  When it is in the sky, it is one of the brightest objects in the sky, with a distinct reddish tinge, which is why it has been associated with the bloody enterprise of war.

Until the invention of the telescope, all we knew about the fourth planet from the Sun was its orbital parameters: its year is 687 days, its path around the sun very circular, and its average distance from the Sun is around 141,600,000 miles. 

Even under magnification, Mars can be a stubborn target; at its nearest, about 35 million mies away, the planet measures just 25 seconds of arc from limb to limb (compared to the Moon, which subtends 1860).  Still, early telescopes were good enough to resolve light red expanses, darker expanses (believed to be seas), and bright polar caps.  Said caps waxed and waned with the Martian seasons, brought on by the planet's very Earthlike tilt of 25 degrees.  Because the Martian surface was visible, unlike those of Venus or Mercury, the day was calculated to be just over 24 hours long.  Indeed, Mars appeared to be a world much like Earth.

Mars for the Martians

In 1877, our understanding of the planet broadened.  Astronomer Asaph Hall discovered two tiny moons, named Phobos and Deimos, and we were able to deduce the mass of Mars — about 10.7% that of Earth.  Combined with the planet's diameter of 4200 miles, that meant Mars' density was about four times that of water.  This is only two thirds that of the Earth, which suggests that the planet is poorer in heavy metals, and/or that, because the planet is less massive overall, its layers are not so tightly bound together with gravity.  From Mars' measured mass and diameter, we learned that the surface gravity is 38% that of Earth; sprinting and jumping should be much easier there.  Flying…well, more on that in a moment.

1877 was also the year that Mars came into our public consciousness in a huge way — all because of a silly mistranslation.  Giovanni Schiaparelli turned his 'scope to Mars and saws something remarkable: dozens of fine straight streaks crisscrossing the planet that seemed to link up the dark patches (which were, if not oceans, at least areas of vegetation suggesting the existence of water).  He called them canali, which is Italian for "channels".  But to English ears, it came out as "canals", which strongly connotes construction by intelligent beings.

Well, you can see what an uproar that would make.  Very soon, folks like Wells and Burroughs were writing tales of Martian aliens.  And not just aliens — civilizations beyond those found on Earth.  The thinking went that the planets' ages corresponded to their distance from the Sun.  Hence, Mercury was a primordial hunk of magma.  Venus, shrouded in clouds, was probably a steamy jungle planet on which Mesozoic monsters roamed.  And beyond the Earth, Mars was a cold, ancient world, its verdant plains dessicated to red deserts.  To avoid catastrophe, the Martians built planet-spanning canals to bring water to their cities.  Being so advanced, it was obvious that they had mastered space travel, and had either visited us or were on the verge of doing so.

Even the more practical-minded scientists were hungry for evidence of life, even primitive stuff, existing off of the Earth.  Mars seemed like the prime location for extraterrestrial creatures to be found.  For one thing, the planet clearly had an atmosphere, wrapping the planet's edges in a haze and producing a marked twilight. 

Originally thought to be a touch thinner than Earth's, more recent measurement of the polarization of Martian light (the vibration angles of light reflected off the atmosphere) suggested that the surface air pressure was about 8% that of Earth.  That was too thin for easy breathing, but not too thin for life.  If there was enough oxygen in the mix, perhaps a person could survive there. 

Mars Today

Such was our understanding of the planet perhaps a decade ago.  Recently, ground-based science has made some amazing discoveries, and it may well be that Mariner and Zond don't so much revolutionize as simply enhance our understanding of the planet.

I just read a paper that says the Martian atmosphere is about a quarter as dense at the surface that thought.  This isn't just bad for breathing — it means NASA scientists have to rethink all the gliders and parachutes they were planning for their Voyager missions scheduled for the next decade.  Observations by spectroscope have found no traces of oxygen and scarcely more water vapor.  The planet's thin atmosphere is mostly made up of nitrogen and carbon dioxide.  The ice in the polar caps may well be mostly "dry".

Because of the lack of water and the thin air, erosion is probably much less of a factor on Mars.  In a recent science article in Analog, George Harper says that the planet's surface may be riddled with meteorite craters that never got worn away.  Close up, Mars may end up looking more like the Moon than the Earth!

And those canals? Telescopic advances in the late 40s made it possible to examine Mars in closer detail than ever before. The weight of astronomical opinion now disfavors the existence of canals.

Still, old dreams die hard.  I imagine we will cling to our visions of Martian life and even civilizations long after such notions are proven unworkable.  To kill such fancies, it'll take a blow as serious as that delivered by Mariner 2, which told us that it's hot enough to melt lead on the surface of Venus.

We'll find out, one way or another, in July 1965!



[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]