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Science / Space Race

[June 8, 1966] Pyrrhic Victory (the flight of Gemini 9)

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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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Science / Space Race

[June 4, 1966] Over Under Sideways Down (Surveyor 1, Explorer 32, Kosmos 110 + 119!)

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by Gideon Marcus

[With Gemini 9 currently overhead and preempting regular network programming, it's easy to forget the other space spectaculars that are going on.  Here's the skinny on four of the more exciting ones.]

Live from the Moon!

America may be second in the Moon race, but we sure aren't far behind the Soviets.  Less than a month after the Russians managed their first soft-landing (with Luna 10, after several failed efforts), NASA's Surveyor 1 did it in just one try. 

On May 30, 7:40 AM Pacific, Atlas-Centaur #8 lifted off from Cape Canaveral less than a second after its scheduled launch time.  757 seconds later, right on the button, Surveyor departed from its Centaur stage on an almost perfect path toward the Moon.  Nevertheless, just before midnight, the spacecraft made a 20.75 second mid-course burn, reducing its landing margin of error from 250 miles to just 10.

Surveyor made a flawless touchdown almost exactly two days later, at 11:17 PM on June 1.  Shortly thereafter, America got its first pictures from the surface of the Moon.

The success of Surveyor marks several major achievements. Firstly, it's a success for the rocket that carried it.  The Atlas-Centaur is the most advanced booster currently in existence, the first to utilize pure hydrogen for fuel and liquid oxygen for the oxidizer.  There is no more efficient combination in existence, and the development of a system that could successfully utilize the pair has been tough.  Now that the Centaur second stage is operational, it can be used on top of many different first stages — from Titan to Saturn.  This dramatically increases the mass of the probes that can be sent to the Moon or to other planets.  By comparison, Surveyor masses more than twice as much as the Ranger crash-lander probes, launched with the less powerful Atlas-Agena.

Surveyor's success also marks a big leap forward for the Project Apollo.  It's been bandied about that this flight shaves a year off the schedule.  This soft-lander mission was really a dress rehearsal for a manned spacecraft, and what a beautiful rehearsal.  Reaching the lunar surface at just twelve feet per second, the three legged Surveyor with crushable aluminum honeycomb feet endured no undue strain.  Moreover, it didn't sink into a quicksand of lunar dust, as had been previously feared.  The landing spot, inside the dry Ocean of Storms, is in a zone that an Apollo mission will be sent to.  If a probe can safely land, then a piloted Lunar Excursion Module can, too.

Finally, Surveyor 1 marks a triumph for lunar science.  Not a huge one, mind you; Surveyor, like the latter Rangers, serves primarily as a handmaiden to the Apollo project.  Nevertheless, we have our first hundred pictures, temperature data, seismological data, and radar reflectivity data of the lunar surface.  The selenologists (lunar counterpart to Earth-based geologists) have plenty of information to play with.

Surveyor will continue broadcasting photos for at least the next 11 days, up through the lunar night.  Then there will be several more missions in the series.  You can be sure you'll read about them here!

Son of Explorer 17

Three years ago, NASA sent up its first high orbit atmospheric satellite, Explorer 17.  It only lasted a few months, going silent on July 10, 1963, but it returned a wealth of information on the least dense regions of our atmosphere.

Every good story deserves a sequel.  On May 25, 1966, we got one: Explorer 32, a satellite so similar to Explorer 17 that it must be considered kin, was hurled into an eccentric orbit that brings the ball of a probe zooming just 150 miles from Earth before flying far, far away.

Too far, actually.  It was only supposed to reach ~500 miles from the Earth at apogee.  Instead, because the Delta booster that carried Explorer didn't turn off in time, the satellite reaches 1000 miles in altitude before looping back.

This has not adversely affected plucky 32, and we are once again getting a wealth of data on the temperature, composition, density, and pressure of the upper atmosphere.  Explorer 32 also has several improvements on its predecessor.  Explorer 32 has solar cells, so its onboard batteries will last years instead of months.  Because the satellite has a tape recorder on board, data can be stored rather than only relayed when a ground station is in sight.  This means the data set from 32 will be continuous.

Even when the satellite goes silent, thanks to its perfectly round shape, it will be useful for measuring the density of the atmosphere, as 17 has been.  A bunch of cameras are tracking 32 from the ground.  Its slow orbital decay will tell us how thick the air is way up there.

It will be a legacy any parent could be proud of!

The Other Side

There have been a whole bunch of Kosmos satellites launched since our last update.  While all of them are classified to some degree, and most of them (Kosmos 107, 109, 111, 113, 114, 115, and 117) were probably spy satellites akin to our biweekly Discoverer program, a couple stand out as unusual — mostly because we know what they are!

Kosmos 110, launched February 22, 1966, carried two caninauts: Veterok and Ugolyok.  They and a menagerie of biological samples circled the Earth for an unprecedented 22 days before safely landing.  We're not sure what capsule was used for the trip, but it was probably a modified Voskhod — I don't think they've had time to test a lunar spacecraft akin to our Apollo yet.  Nevertheless, it's certain that this feat was conducted in support of long term efforts in space: either a Moon mission or a space station effort.

Most recently, Kosmos 119 went up on May 24.  We can deduce its purpose based on what it's doing, namely emitting 31.8 kHz and 44.9 kHz radio-waves.  It is believed that 119 is an ionospheric experiment to determine if and how ultralow frequency electromagnetic waves pass through that region of the atmosphere.  Data from this satellite will be useful for estimating charged-particle concentration in the lower ionosphere.  Whether the satellite's mission is purely scientific or serves to support some sort of military application is unknown.  Nevertheless, it's nifty!

Things to Come

Of course, the big news over the next week will be how successful Gemini 9 is at completing its rendezvous, docking, and spacewalk maneuvers.  You can be certain we'll have full coverage of that mission after splashdown next week!

Speaking of adventure in space, don't miss your chance to get this amazing novel by yours truly!

From a recent review:

Imagine Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys … in space! Kitra took me back to my childhood when I would have loved to read stories of young people in sci-fi settings overcoming difficult odds and conquering the universe. In Marcus's own words: "Tales of friendship, ingenuity, and wonder."

Take a group of diverse friends (not all human), toss in a bit of gender fluidity, cultural diversity, and conflict, and push them to their limits as they have to work together to overcome an unexpected threat. This YA fiction will thrill any number of budding science fiction fans.




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Science / Space Race

[April 20, 1966] Space Exploration is Hard (Venera 2 and 3, Luna 10 and OAO 1)

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by Kaye Dee

While manned spaceflight always grabs the headlines, the past month or so has seen some fascinating, if not always successful, attempts at planetary and lunar exploration and the launch of a new space observatory. The failures of some of these missions remind us that space exploration is hard and success is never guaranteed…

Still Unable to Lift the Veil of Venus

Launched just days apart back in November last year, Soviet Venus probes, Venera 2 and 3 were due to arrive at the Earth’s mysterious, cloud-veiled sister planet at the beginning of March, but both seem to have failed just on the verge of success. 

As early as February 1961, the USSR commenced its attempts to explore Venus with the Venera (Russian for Venus) 1 probe. Although Venera-1 flew past Venus at a distance of 100,000km on 19 May 1961, no data were received, due to a communications failure. According to my friends at the Weapons Research Establishment, following that mission there may have been several failed attempts by the USSR to launch missions to Venus, before Venera 2 and 3 were successfully sent on their way back in November.

(top) Venera 1, the USSR's first Venus probe and (bottom) its official follow on, Venera 2. I wonder how many unannounced failures lie between these two missions?

According to various news releases from the Soviet news agency TASS, the two spacecraft were intended for different exploration missions. Venera 2 was planned to fly past the sunlit side of Venus and examine its enigmatic clouds. The spacecraft was equipped with cameras, a magnetometer and a variety of instruments to measure the radiation environment in space and at Venus. Valuable data on the interplanetary space environment was transmitted back to Earth during the flight to Venus.

All Venera 2's instruments were activated for the flyby on 27 February, at a distance of 14,790 miles. While the instruments were operating, the radio had to be shut down, with the probe storing their data in onboard recorders. The plan was for the stored data to be transmitted it to Earth once contact was restored. However, it seems that ground controllers in the USSR were unable to re-establish communications with the spacecraft after the flyby. Attempts to re-establish contact with Venera 2 ceased on March 4, but if communication with the spacecraft can be made at some future point, Soviet scientists believe that it may still be possible to recover some of the flyby data.

Touchdown?

Unlike Venera 2’s flyby (similar to those of Mariner 2 at Venus and Mariner 4 at Mars), Venera 3’s ambitious goal was to land a small capsule of instruments on the surface of Venus, hopefully to unlock at least some of the secrets hidden beneath its veil of clouds. Because some scientists believe there could be life on Venus, the USSR claims the lander was “sterilised” before its departure from Earth so that would not contaminate the Venusian atmosphere or surface with any microbial terrestrial life.

The Venera 3 lander was a metal sphere about 35 inches in diameter, which carried instruments to measure atmospheric temperature, pressure and composition, and light levels at different altitudes, as well small metal Soviet emblems. Interestingly, because some scientists still hold the view that Venus could be a water world, the lander was designed to be able to float and carried a motion detector, which could determine if it had actually landed in water and was rocking in the waves.

Venera 3 was similar to its sister-probe Venera 2. But look closely and you can see the landing capsule at the bottom of the spacecraft

Weighing 884lbs, the lander was designed to drop through Venus’ atmosphere on a parachute, transmitting data from its instruments directly back to Earth, while the rest of the Venera 3 spacecraft went into orbit around Venus to take other scientific measurements. However, like its sister probe, contact with Venera 3 was lost as it approached Venus. Tracking data indicates that the landing capsule entered the Venusian atmosphere on 1 March, although no telemetry was received from the lander. Nevertheless, the Venera 3 lander has become the first manmade object to impact another planet, which is an achievement in itself. The reasons for the failure of the two Venera spacecraft remain a mystery, although some experts believe that the thick Venusian atmosphere may have had something to do with it.

Newly-released Venera 3 stamp (thanks Uncle Ernie!). It shows the Soviet medal and pendant depicting the planet Earth that were carried on board the lander

Advancing the Soviet Lunar Programme

Despite the problems with its Venus programme, the USSR’s lunar programme seems to be going from strength to strength. Following on from the historic soft landing on the Moon with Luna 9 in February, Luna 10 marks another step forward, becoming the first spacecraft to go into orbit around the Moon. (Of course, it’s obvious that this feat was timed to occur during the 23rd Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, but I’m sure it was also deliberately planned to upstage the United States’ Lunar Orbiter program, which is due to commence later this year, with a series of spacecraft that will photograph and map the Moon in advance of the Apollo programme).

Luna 10, the first spacecraft to orbit the Moon

A pre-launch photograph of Luna 10 indicates that its design is very similar to that of Luna 9, although the instrument capsule on top has a different shape. Launched on 31 March, Luna 10 went into lunar orbit three days later. Its elliptical orbit approaches as close as to the lunar surface as 217 miles, with its farthest point at 632 miles, and takes just under three hours. The 530lb spacecraft is battery powered, rather than using solar panels, so it is unclear how long it will keep sending data back to the Earth, but at present it is producing a regular stream of information about the space environment in the vicinity of the Moon, that will help us understand how safe (or otherwise) it will be for the first cosmonauts and astronauts to explore cislunar space and the Moon itself.

Close up view of a model of the Luna 10 instrument capsule and the small Soviet metal pendants that it carried onboard

Scientific Instruments aboard Luna 10 include a gamma-ray spectrometer, a magnetometer, a meteorite detector, instruments for solar-plasma studies, and devices for measuring infrared emissions from the Moon and radiation conditions of the lunar environment. However, it is not clear whether the probe is actually carrying a camera to photograph the Moon’s surface. Preliminary data released by the Soviet Union indicates that there are higher concentrations of meteoritic dust in the vicinity of the Moon than in interplanetary space, as well as “electron fluxes” that are “70 to 100 times more intense than the cosmic ray background”.

First day cover commemorating the Luna 10 mission. Soviet space covers are masterpieces of propaganda, with the stamp design, envelope design and postmark all re-inforcing the message of Communist space achievement!

A Propaganda Serenade from the Moon!

As the Space Race heats up, the Soviet leadership is always ready to exploit propaganda opportunities associated with space exploration. To celebrate the CPSU Congress, a synthesised version of the Communist anthem “The Internationale” was broadcast live from Luna 10 to the congress on 4 April. (At least, it was claimed to be live: I wonder if Luna 10’s controllers actually used a pre-recorded version in case there were problems with the spacecraft? After all, it would be very politically embarrassing to have a failure of Soviet technology at such a high profile event for global Communism!)

Sky High Eyes on the Sky

The last mission I want to mention this month is NASA’s Orbiting Astronomical Observatory (OAO) 1, not least because this a major space project managed by a woman! Dr. Nancy Grace Roman, formerly a radio astronomer with the Naval Research Laboratory, joined NASA in 1959 and became Chief of Astronomy in NASA's Office of Space Science in 1960. She has a prestigious international reputation and was the first woman in an executive position at the space agency, where she has established the space astronomy programme.

Dr Nancy Grace Roman in 1962 with a model of another of her space observatory projects, the Orbiting Solar Observatory

The heaviest satellite yet launched by the United States (weighing almost two tons), OAO 1 was launched successfully on 8 April, riding to orbit on an Atlas-Agena D from Cape Canaveral. It carried 10 telescopes and other instruments capable of detecting ultraviolet, X-ray and gamma ray emissions to measure the absorption and emission characteristics of the stars, planets, nebulae from the visible to gamma-ray regions The observatory satellite was intended to give astronomers their first clear look at the heavens without the distorting effect of the Earth’s atmosphere and its results were greatly anticipated.

However, before the instruments could be activated, something caused a power failure that resulted in the mission being terminated after just 20 orbits. Because the spacecraft could not be controlled, its solar panels could not be deployed to recharge the batteries supplying the equipment and instruments on board the satellite. Although this is a blow to space astronomy, I’m sure the OAO programme will continue as future satellites are already in development.

NASA illustration of Orbiting Astronomical Observatory 1. While this satellite has failed, there will be future space observatories in this program




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Science / Space Race

[March 18, 1966] Taking Gemini for a Spin (Gemini 8)

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by Kaye Dee

As the race for the Moon heats up, the Gemini program is moving forward at a cracking pace –three months ago, Gemini VII completed its record breaking long-duration mission and NASA’s latest manned space mission, Gemini VIII launched just two days ago on March 16 (US time). By co-incidence, this was right on the 40th anniversary of the first successful launch of a liquid-fuelled rocket by American physicist Dr. Robert Goddard.


Goddard and his first liquid fuel rocket, launched forty years to the day before Gemini VIII. Developing a liquid-fuelled rocket was the necessary first step to making spaceflight a reality

But are things moving too fast? This latest Gemini flight was one of NASA’s most ambitious to date, slated for a 3-day mission to carry out the first rendezvous and docking and the United States’ second spacewalk. However, it was prematurely cut short after about 10 and a half hours, due to an in-flight emergency.

What was Supposed to Happen

Gemini VIII was intended to carry out the four rendezvous and docking manoeuvres originally planned for Gemini VI (the goals of that mission had to be changed due to the loss of its Agena target vehicle and instead it rendezvoused with Gemini VII). Being able to rendezvous and dock two spacecraft is a technique that is vitally important for the success of the Apollo programme, so NASA needs to be sure that it can reliably carry out these manoeuvres.


Gemini VIII approaches its Agena target vehicle in preparation for docking, practicing one of the crucial technologies of the Apollo programme

NASA also needs to gain more experience with extra-vehicular activity (EVA), or spacewalking, which is another crucial technique needed for Apollo. So far, the Gemini programme’s only EVA has been the one carried out by Ed White during the Gemini IV mission in June last year. Astronaut David Scott was scheduled to perform an ambitious spacewalk of over two hours, operating at the end of a 25-foot tether. He was supposed to retrieve a radiation experiment from the front of the Gemini's spacecraft adapter and activate a micrometeoroid experiment on the Agena target vehicle. Then it was planned to test a space power tool by loosening and tightening bolts on a work panel attached to the Gemini.

The most exciting part of the spacewalk would have taken place after Mission Commander Neil Armstrong undocked from the Agena for the first time. Major Scott would have tested an Extravehicular Support Pack (ESP), which contained its own oxygen supply and propellant for his Hand-Held Manoeuvring Unit. A 75-foot extension to his tether would have enabled Scott to carry out several manoeuvres in conjunction with the Gemini and Agena vehicles, while separated from them at distances up to 60 feet.

Very Experienced Rookies


Neil Armstrong (front) and David Scott departing the suit up trailer on their way to the launch pad. Behind Scott is Chief Astronaut Alan Shepard, the first American in space.

Gemini VIII’s crew are both first-time astronauts, but they have a wealth of flight experience between them. Mission Commander Neil Armstrong is the first American civilian in space, and a highly experienced test pilot. Before being selected for NASA’s second group of astronauts, Mr. Armstrong was a Naval aviator during the Korean conflict and then an experimental test pilot with NASA’s predecessor the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, which he joined in 1955. He developed a reputation as an excellent engineer, a cool-headed clear-thinker, and an outstanding test pilot with nerves of steel, all of which helped him survive a number of dangerous flight-test incidents. Included in his experience are seven flights aboard the X-15 hypersonic research aircraft.

Gemini VIII Pilot David Scott is a major in the US Air Force, and the first member of the third astronaut group to make a spaceflight. Scott saw active duty in Europe before gaining both a Master of Science degree in Aeronautics/Astronautics and the degree of Engineer in Aeronautics/Astronautics from MIT in 1962. He joined the US Air Force Test Pilot School at Edwards Air Force Base in 1962 and was selected as an astronaut in October 1963. 

A Spectrum of Objectives


Gemini VIII's mission patch. Look closely at the spectrum to see the text.

Now that mission patches seem to have become a standard part of each Gemini flight (after being introduced by the Gemini V crew), Armstrong and Scott designed their mission patch to feature a colour spectrum, which is shown as being produced by the light of two stars – Castor and Pollux, the two brightest stars in the constellation of Gemini – refracted through a prism. The spectrum symbolises “the whole spectrum of objectives” that they planned to accomplish on Gemini VIII, which included various science and technology experiments in addition to the docking and spacewalking activities. Looking closely at the spectrum, you can see that its lines have been drawn to represent the astronomical symbol for the constellation Gemini, as well as the Roman numeral VIII.

Things Go to Plan

The original Gemini VIII plan was for a three-day mission and at first everything seemed to be going perfectly. One hundred minutes before Gemini VIII, an Atlas rocket lifted off from Launch Pad 14 at the Cape carrying the Agena target vehicle. Unlike Gemini VI, this time the launch was successful, placing the Agena into a 161 nautical-mile circular orbit. Once it was certain that the Agena was safely in orbit, Gemini VIII lifted off from the nearby Pad 19: its launch, too, went without any problems.


A composite image combining the lift-off of the Atlas Agena and Gemini VIII

After an orbital “chase” of more than three and a half hours, Armstrong and Scott had their target in sight: they could visually spot it when they were about 76 nautical miles away. Then, at 55 nautical miles, the computer completed the rendezvous automatically.

Before docking with the Agena, the astronauts spent 35 minutes visually inspecting it, to ensure that it had suffered no damage from the launch. Then Armstrong started to move towards the Agena at 3.15 inches per second. In a matter of minutes, the Agena’s docking latches clicked: the first docking by a manned spacecraft had been successfully completed! Mission Commander Armstrong described the docking as “a real smoothie” and said that the Agena felt quite stable during the manoeuvre. NASA has now proved that it can achieve a critical technique needed for the Apollo Moon landings.

Things Don’t Go to Plan

The docking may have been a smoothie: however, what followed was anything but! Mission Control seems to have had some suspicions that the Agena's attitude control system could malfunction (my friends at Woomera say there was a possibility that the Agena’s onboard computer might not have the correct program stored in it), because the crew were reminded of the code to turn off the Agena’s computer and advised to abort the docking straight away if there were any problems with the target vehicle.


A close-up view as Gemini VIII approaches its Agena target vehicle.

As Gemini VIII lost radio contact with Houston (in a part of its orbit where it was out of range of any of the tracking stations on the ground), the Agena began to execute one of its stored test programs, to turn the two docked spacecraft. That’s when the emergency began! While the full details of the emergency are not yet known, it seems that the Agena started to roll uncontrollably, causing the docked spacecraft to gyrate wildly, making a full rotation every 10 seconds. The situation seems to have been pretty desperate, to judge from some communications picked up by monitors at the Radio Research Institute of the Japanese Postal Services.

Armstrong has reported that he used the Gemini capsule’s orbital attitude and manoeuvring system (OAMS) thrusters to stop the tumbling, but the roll immediately began again. As he struggled to control the rotating vehicles Armstrong noticed that the OAMS fuel dropped quickly, hinting that perhaps the problem was with the Gemini, rather than the Agena.


Diagram showing the location of the OAMS thrusters and the Re-entry Control System thrusters (incorrectly identified as "Reaction Control System")

Then They Get Worse!

Armstrong and Scott decided to undock from the Agena, apparently concerned that the high spin-rate might damage the spacecraft or possibly cause the Agena, still loaded with propellant, to rupture or explode. It turns out, though, that the Agena’s mass must have been actually damping the rotation, because as soon as Gemini VIII undocked it began to tumble even more rapidly, making almost a full end over end rotation per second! The issue was definitely with the spacecraft, and it was an extremely dangerous one. At that rate of spin, the astronauts’ vision became blurred and they have said they were in danger of blacking out!


CapCom Jim Lovell (left) and astronaut Bill Anders following reports from Gemini VIII during the crisis

It was only at this point that Gemini VIII came back into contact with Mission Control, via the tracking ship USNS Coastal Sentry Quebec, stationed southwest of Japan. Armstrong sure is a quick thinker, though. He disengaged the OAMS system and used the re-entry control system (RCS) to finally halt the spin and regain control of Gemini VIII. However, doing this used up almost 75% of the re-entry manoeuvring fuel.

Emergency Abort!

Gemini mission rules dictate that a flight has to be aborted once the RCS is activated for any reason. With so much of the RCS fuel already consumed, and with no guarantee that the tumbling might not occur again, Flight Director John Hodge (on his first mission as Chief Flight Director, too!), quickly decided to abort the mission and bring Gemini VIII back to Earth.

Hodge decided to bring Gemini VIII home after one more orbit, so that secondary recovery forces in the Pacific could be in place. Re-entry occurred over China, out of range of NASA tracking stations, but US Air Force planes spotted the spacecraft as it descended towards its landing site about 430 nautical miles east of Okinawa. Three para-rescuers were dropped to attach a flotation collar to the capsule and stay with the astronauts until the recovery ship arrived. 


Armstrong, Scott and their para-rescuers waiting for the arrival of the recovery ship

Initial reports are that, though exhausted, the crew were in good health when they landed, and they opened the Gemini hatches, ate some lunch, and relaxed in the sun with the para-rescuers while waiting for the recovery ship Leonard F Mason to arrive. Maybe the lunch wasn’t such a good idea, as I’ve heard that the crew and their rescuers were all a bit seasick by the time the ship reached them three hours later.

NASA officials met with the Gemini VIII crew in Japan for a preliminary debriefing, and Armstrong and Scott, together with Gemini VIII are now on their way back to the US. Hopefully, an accident investigation will soon reveal exactly what went wrong and why, causing NASA’s first in-flight emergency. But what we already know is that Armstrong and Scott behaved with cool competence in an extremely stressful and dangerous situation and NASA’s emergency procedures enabled the astronauts to be brought home quickly and safely. Everyone involved should be congratulated for demonstrating that even a crisis can be an important stepping-stone on the road to the Moon! 


Safe and sound aboard the U.S.S. Leonard F. Mason




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Science / Space Race

[February 6, 1966] Hello, Stranger (exploring Space in Winter 65/66)

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You don't want to miss today's Journey Show!  In this first episode of the new season, we'll be talking about comics: Marvel, DC, British, European — and we'll also be discussing the new Batman show.  Y'all come!


by Gideon Marcus

It seems like a mighty long time…

Looming huge on the horizon, shining brightly at zenith, one would imagine that visiting the Moon wouldn't be all that difficult.  But making the 400,000+ kilometer trek has proved one of the hardest feats for humanity to tackle.  Just reaching the vicinity of the Moon took four Pioneers and who knows how many secret Mechtas.  And while the Soviets managed to hit the Moon in 1959 with Luna 2, the United States went through four Pioneer Ables and three Rangers before duplicating the feat in 1962.  It wasn't until last year's Ranger 7 that we managed a fully successful TV crashlanding mission.

But despite early successes, the real heartbreak kings have been the Soviets.  Since their spectacular Luna 3 mission in 1959, which was the first to return pictures from the Far Side, the Russians have failed in at least four attempts over the past year to soft-land on the Moon.

That all changed on February 3, 1966, when Luna 9 settled gently onto Oceanus Procellarum and returned the first pictures from the lunar surface.

Luna 9 was launched on January 31 amid the typical TASS fanfare.  After the prior failures, it was hard to get too excited until the vehicle actually reached the Moon.  Even then, we in the West had to find out about its success second-hand at first.  The Russians are notoriously mum about their missions until it is certain that they worked (or that news of a failure can be properly massaged).

Luckily, the good folks at Britain's Jodrell Bank radio observatory were able to intercept Luna 9's transmissions, thus giving us a pretty good idea of its timeline.  The U.S. Army also listened in on Luna 9's whole trip, though this fact wasn't broadcast initially. 

Per TASS, we know that the spacecraft began its landing sequence about an hour before landing at 1:45 PM EST.  Jodrell Bank confirms that Luna 9 broadcast a stream of pictures for the next 20 minutes followed by a second transmission at 9:00 PM. 

And this is what Luna 9 saw:

In addition to the engineering triumph that the Luna 9 mission represents, it also yielded a bonanza of scientific information.  For instance, we now know that the Moon is not covered by a dangerous quicksand of dust, which was a big concern for the Apollo people.  Luna 9 has also returned valuable cosmic ray data.

Luna 9's chief success, however, has been nationalistic.  After the two Voskhod flights, the Soviets watched helplessly as our Gemini program surpassed their accomplishments by leaps and bounds.  For the moment, the Soviets are once again ahead in at least one aspect of the Space Race.

At least until Surveyor 1 lands in May…

I got my eyes on you

The Moon hasn't been the only Soviet target these past two months. Since December 10, they have launched six "Kosmos" class satellites, almost all of which likely been photographic surveillance craft like our Discoverer series (which we have continued to launch consistently every couple of weeks).  We can tell this from the angle of their orbit, designed to maximize coverage of the West, and the fact that they land in Russia after about a week in space.  Certainly, these "scientific" probes don't seem to return much data — I think Kosmos 41 was the last with any results published in any of the journals I follow, and it was launched in August 1964.

Stormy weather

The same day Luna 9 stunned the world with its pictures, the United States launched a quieter but no less momentous shutterbug of its own.  ESSA 1, also known as TIROS 11, marked the beginning of a new era of weather forecasting.  The prior TIROS satellites were all experimental, despite their unquestioned contribution to our daily forecasts.  The new TIROS is not only better able to provide instant global weather pictures to any station in view at any time from its 700km altitude, it is the first to be managed by the new Environmental Science Services Administration. 

From test product to fundamental government equipment in six years.  Not bad!

The Sun is Shining

Completing the exploration of the Earth/Moon/Sun trinity is Pioneer 6, launched December 16, 1965.  In the tradition of Pioneer 5, Pioneer 6 is a truly interplanetary probe.  Its mission is not to encounter any other celestial bodies but to instead be a solar weather station in an orbit somewhere between that of Earth's and Venus'. 

Its six instruments have been diligently recording long term data on radiation and magnetic conditions out in deep space, thus far reporting that the "solar wind" blows at about 1,000,000 km/h during quiet periods as opposed to three times as much in active times.  The solar magnetic field appears comparatively unfluctuating, accompanied by a relatively low number of charged particles.

Pioneer 6 is the first of five such interplanetary probes planned for launch over the next few years. 

1-2-3

Our last piece of news covers the multiple launch of December 21.  The Air Force has been testing its mighty Titan IIIC, which remains the world's most powerful rocket until such time as the Saturn 1B takes off later this month.  Since science abhors a vacuum, space aboard the mighty booster was used to launch four satellites into orbit at the same time.

These satellites were OV2-3, a radiation studies probe; LES-3 and 4, communications test satellites; and OSCAR 4, a relay broadcaster designed to be used by amateur "ham" radio enthusiasts.  All of these satellites were supposed to be placed in 35,000 km high geosynchronous orbits, circling the Earth about once every day such that they appeared to remain roughly fixed in the sky.  Unfortunately, while the Titan delivered the satellites into a geosynchronous transfer orbit, a final burn never happened.  The four vehicles are thus trapped in a highly eccentric path that zooms up to 30,000 km while retaining an Earth-grazing 170km perigee.

Moreover, OV2-3 never switched on.  LES-3 and 4 appear to work, however, doing top secret work offering data on communications in the UHF and SHF bands.  OSCAR 4 has been less successful, only being used for 12 transmissions; one of them was the first ever satellite-relayed conversation between the United States and the USSR, however!

Man oh man

The space-related excitment won't stop anytime soon.  On February 20, we'll see our first real Apollo mission when the new Saturn 1B launches a full Apollo CSM on a suborbital flight.  And in March, we'll likely see our first docking in space when Gemini 8 goes up. 

Science fiction made real, indeed!




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Science / Space Race

[January 2, 1966] God of Time (The Planet Saturn)

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by Gideon Marcus

Out at the edges of the known universe, a stately sentinel makes its rounds.  Not brighter than its companions, it nevertheless impresses with its constancy, its deliberate pace.

To the ancient Greeks, the planet Saturn was one of the seven "wanderers" that included the Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars and Jupiter.  Set in the outermost crystal sphere but one, that last being occupied by the stars, the farthest planet known before the invention of the telescope was named after the King of the Titans — possibly, because his association with time (the Greek name for Saturn is "Kronos" as in "chronometer" and "chronology") matched the long period of the planet's orbit.

For millennia, nothing else was known of this world — or even that it was a world.  Then, in the early 17th Century, Galileo eagerly turned his telescope up at Saturn and was surprised to not see a smooth disk or a crescent as with the other planets.  Instead, the planet seemed to have large bulges on either side.  Stranger still, when he observed Saturn later on, the bulges had vanished!

Telescopes got better, and observers (starting with Huygens in 1655) came to realize that Saturn has not bulges but (unique among the planets, at least so far as we can currently resolve) a system of rings.  There appear to be three: A diffuse inner one, an outer one, and a bright wide central one.  They are definitely not solid; one can see stars through them at times.  Also, different ends of the rings orbit at different rates, which is more evidence that they are composed of lots of little bodies.  The clincher is that the rings lie within what's called the Roche Limit, the area near a planet where its tidal forces are too great for a solid body of appreciable size to exist.  Indeed, someday in the distant future our own Moon may spiral in too close to the Earth and become a lovely ring.

As for why the rings seem to disappear, Saturn is tilted 28 degrees with respect to the plane of the solar system in which all of the planets circle the Sun, and thus at times, the rings are edge on to us and sometimes flared to full splendor.  At the former times, they virtually disappear.

Saturn has a host of Moons, all named after Titans (including one called Titan).  Thanks to them and Newton's laws, we have a very good idea as to the planet's mass.  Saturn is 95 times as massive as the Earth.  Measuring its disk, we know it is 72,000 miles wide at its equator.  Combine those two factors together and we find that Saturn is the least dense of all the planets, with a density less than that of water!  This has led to some silly books exclaiming that, were there an ocean large enough, Saturn would float on it.

If there were an ocean large enough to float Saturn, it would collapse into a hot sun under its own weight!

The low density and the fast day (10 hours and 38 minutes) makes for an oval-shaped planet, its most distinctive feature along with the rings.  The three rings seem to have big gaps between them, perhaps having been cleared out through gravitational resonance with one of Saturn's moons or another.

For a long time, this is all we knew about Saturn.  Aside from the rings, it was a rather dull planet compared to vibrant Jupiter, glowing Venus, or crimson Mars.  With the advent of the spectrograph and the radio telescope, we've learned a bit more.  We know from density models that Saturn, like Jupiter, is composed almost entirely of hydrogen and helium.  It thus earns the name "gas giant."  Spectrographs tell us that there is methane and ammonia in Saturn's atmosphere, though there is less of the latter, probably because it has snowed out of the colder air.  Beneath the cloud layers, the hydrogen is believed to be condensed into a vast ocean with an icelike core deeper down.

The moon Titan is particularly exciting.  Not only is it bigger than our Moon (a distinction shared with only three other moons in the solar system) but it is the only moon known to have an atmosphere of its own!  The astronomer Kuiper, in 1944, determined that it is composed at least in part of methane.  This distinctive property is the reason Titan has been one of the more popular settings for science fiction stories.

From the most recent journal articles, I have learned that infrared observations suggest that Saturn's rings are made of water ice.  This makes sense.  There is a boundary in our solar system beyond which water ceases to be volatile and instead becomes a common building material.  Most of the outer moons are probably icy, too.

Interestingly, whereas Jupiter blazes like a beacon in the radio frequencies, Saturn's staticy contributions to the airwaves remain faint and sporadic, if indeed they come from Saturn at all.  More observation will be required to clinch whether or not Saturn broadcasts to us via the shortwave bands.

It is likely that we can only learn so much from terrestrial telescopes.  Eventually, we'll have to go to Saturn and get more data first hand.  While I do not know of any planned missions to the outer planets, it is not hard to conceive of one launched by our powerful Atlas Centaur rocket or perhaps a more powerful Titan/Saturn Centaur combination. 

I have also heard from a friend at Jet Propulsion Laboratories in Pasadena that a clever grad student there may have come up with a way to explore the farther planets on the cheap.  Essentially, a probe can get a two for one deal (or perhaps as much as a four for one deal given the right circumstances!) by using the gravity of the first visited planet to accelerate it and direct it toward the next.  If this theory can be perfected, we could see a combined Jupiter/Saturn probe within the next five years.  By the end of the next decade, we may well be able to launch one that visits all of the four gas giants in turn.

Something to look forward to!

With this, the planetary series of articles is complete!  Be sure to check out all the others in the series and learn what we knew about each of the nine planets of the solar system before they were visited by spacecraft.  You can also read about what Mariner 2 taught us about Venus and the new Mars revealed by Mariner 4!




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Science / Space Race

[December 20, 1965] Rendezvous in space (Gemini 6 and 7)

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by Gideon Marcus

Ahead by a nosecone

If there was any doubt as to America's position in the Space Race, such has been dispelled this month with the amazing double mission of Geminis 6 and 7.  In a single fortnight, a slew of new records has been made, leaving those of the Soviets, and those made by prior Gemini flights, in the dust.

It all started way back on October 25.  The United States already had three successful two-person flights under its belt, having tested the new Gemini spacecraft with Gemini 3, experimented with spacewalking on Gemini 4, and set a space endurance record with Gemini 5.

Gemini 6, commanded by Mercury veteran Wally Schirra, would be the first test of the Agena docking adapter — an upper rocket stage remodeled to fit the nose of a Gemini so that the spacecraft could be boosted to high orbit.

Sadly for Schirra, the Agena, launched just minutes before Gemini 6's blast off time, failed to make orbit.  The whole mission had to be scrubbed.

But a super-endurance flight was already in the works for December: a fourteen day slog planned for Group 2 NASA astronauts Jim Lovell and Frank Borman.  Seeing how they'd just be spending two weeks jawing and sleeping, why not combine the missions of Gemini 6 and 7?  While they wouldn't be able to dock, they would be able to test their orbit maneuvering engines and rendezvous techniques by getting within 20 feet of each other.  Plus, it would mean four Americans in space, which would beat the Soviet record by 33%.

So it was that Gemini 7 blasted off in the afternoon of December 4 with the sweet anticipation of being joined just in space eight days later by Gemini 6A.

The long wait

Of course, Gemini 7 still had to log as many hours just in the first part of the mission than Gemini 5's astronauts did during their whole excursion.  That meant a lot of endless hours.  To be sure, NASA tried to occupy them by taking pictures of the Earth as they orbited, and halfway through the trip, there was a visual acuity test in which astronauts tried to pick out specially made targets on the ground.

There was also an interesting experiment in which Gemini astronauts beamed a hand laser out the window of the spacecraft, bouncing it off mirror-sided Explorer 22.  This was a communications test; laser beams cannot be intercepted and are not limited by line-of-sight with the ground.  Unfortunately, although the receiving station was able to see the beam, it got no useful messages from it.

Other than that, Gemini 7's crew was mostly bored and uncomfortable.  They argued with NASA for several days before they were allowed to both keep their suits off.  Jim Lovell wished he'd brought a book along.  Things got very whiffie, and when, after week, they just couldn't delay certain bodily functions anymore, the cabin's atmosphere took a turn for the worse.

T for two

On December 12, after an early morning breakfast of steak and eggs, Schirra and his rookie companion, Tom Stafford, buckled into Gemini 6A.  This would be the day they made space history by becoming the third and fourth simultaneous men in space.

It was not meant to be.  At T-0, the familiar plume of smoke erupted from Gemini 6's Titan II rocket, but even before the unique groan of blast-off could reach the launch block house, the engine had already shut down.  Schirra now had a microsecond to react — if the booster had left the pad at all, it would come back down, collapsing in on itself in a conflagration.  But the experienced test pilot was certain the rocket hadn't moved, and he did not punch the ejector button.  As a result, the mission was just delayed, rather than scrubbed.

Just four days later, the third time proved to be the charm as Gemini 6 made a perfect ascent into orbit and immediately began closing in on Gemini 7.  Within just five hours, Schirra had maneuvered his spacecraft to within 100 feet, and he continued his approach.  When all was said and done, both spacecraft were just one foot away from each other.  Compare that to the dual flights of Vostoks 3 and 4, and later 5 and 6: while those spacecraft had gotten fairly close to one another, that was the result of accurate launching rather than onboard maneuvering.  Indeed, the moment of rendezvous was the first time since Alan Shepard's 1961 launch in Freedom 7 that the entire flight crew at Mission Control was standing at their consoles.


Getting it on film

If the rest of the flights of Geminis 6 and 7 were anticlimactic for their crews, they were anything but for the anchors at CBS and NBC…or the folks on the ground glued to their boob tubes.  Schirra and Stafford reentered just one day after taking off, splashing down in the Atlantic near the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Wasp.  And we were there, remotely.  For the first time, live cameras aboard the recovery fleet caught the action: the sight of the Gemini capsule bobbing on the placid ocean, the helicopters keeping careful watch, the divers bringing the spacecraft and its astronauts aboard ship to be feted by the thousands of crew members. 

We actually got many hours of special coverage for these flights, although we had to get up very early for the splashdowns.  They were mostly in color, too.  I particularly liked watching CBS reporter Mike Wallace playing with the IBM computer, which was programmed for orbital mechanics calculations.  And at every juncture, there were folks playing in the Gemini simulator to give us an idea what the astronauts were doing.

Who would have thought that as humanity took its first steps into space, we would be able to look over their shoulders every step of the way?  All that's left is incorporating "instant replay" somehow!

What's next?

We are already halfway through the Gemini program.  A total of twelve flights are planned, and seven have flown.  These next flights will all take place in 1966, the first scheduled for March, which means we will have a crowded viewing schedule next year!  It's got to be a fast schedule, though; the first Apollo will go up in early 1967.  Next year's missions will focus on docking, extended spacewalks, and large scale orbital maneuvers — all skills we'll need for our trips to the Moon.

You can bet I'll keep tuning in to Cronkite!

The holidays are coming!  Looking for the perfect gift for a niece, nephew, or other young relative?  Kitra is the hopeful, found family novel that they've been waiting for.  Buy a copy for them today…and perhaps one for yourself!




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Science / Space Race

[December 8, 1965] Space is Getting Crowded (A-1/Asterix, FR-1, Explorer-31, Alouette-2, Luna-8, Gemini-7

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by Kaye Dee

A few weeks ago, I wrote that November had been a busy month for space missions, but just in the past three weeks the heavens have become even more crowded, with six more launches taking place

France Joins the Space Club-Twice!

Congratulations to France on orbiting its first two satellites within ten days of each other, joining that exclusive club of nations that have either launched their own satellite, or put a satellite into orbit with the help of the United States. In France’s case it has done both!

In addition to its participation in the European Launcher Development Organisation (ELDO), France has its own national space programme, managed by its space agency, the Centre National d'Etudes Spatiales (National Centre for Space Studies, or CNES for short). Established just on four years ago (19 December 1961), CNES has moved rapidly to make France a leading player in the Space Race: it has been working with the French Army on the development of a satellite carrier rocket, named Diamant, and with the United States on a series of satellites dubbed “FR” (for France, of course).

France’s first satellite, A-1, was launched on 26 November on the first flight of the Diamant (Diamond) launcher from the French ballistic missile test site at Hammaguir, in Algeria. With this launch, France has become the sixth country to have a satellite in orbit—and only the third nation after the USSR and United States to launch a satellite on its own launch vehicle (Canada, the UK and Italy all launched their satellites on American rockets). 


France's Diamant rocket lifts off successfully on its maiden flight, carrying the A-1 satellite

The 60ft tall Diamant is derived from France’s “Precious Stones” nuclear ballistic missile development programme. It is a three-stage rocket, with the first stage being liquid-fuelled and the two upper stages derived from solid-fuel missiles. The satellite is officially named A-1 (Armée-1/Army-1) as it is the first satellite launched by the French Army, but the French media quickly nicknamed it Asterix, after a popular character in French comic strips. This character isn’t well-known in the English-speaking world, but apparently “Asterix the Gaul” is hugely popular in France. According to some of the ELDO people at Woomera, the A-1 satellite was originally intended to be the second satellite in the FR series. It was hurriedly selected to fly on the first Diamant test launch, because FR-1 was in the final stages of being readied for launch in the United States (more on that below). 


A-1 being readied for launch, mounted on top of the Diamant's third stage

A-1/Asterix is shaped a bit like a spinning-top and, rather unusually, its body is made of fibreglass, which is decorated with black stripes for passive thermal control, to stop the satellite’s interior overheating. A-1 is 22 inches in diameter and 22 inches high, with four antennae around its midriff. It weighs 92 ½lbs and carries instruments for taking measurements of the ionosphere. Battery powered, A-1 was expected to transmit for about 10 days, but although the launch was successful, the signals from the satellite quickly faded, possibly due to damage to its antennae caused by part of the protective nosecone hitting the satellite as it fell away. However, even though it is no longer transmitting, A-1 will remain in orbit for several centuries!


On 30 November, the French Post Office celebrated the successful launch of France's first satellite with the release of a stamp triptych

France’s second satellite, FR-1, was launched on 6 December local time using a Scout X-4 vehicle from the Vandenberg Air Force Base in California. Originally intended to be the first French satellite, FR-1 is the first of a series of French scientific satellites that have been developed by CNES in conjunction with the Centre National d'Etudes des Telecommunications (National Centre for Telecommunications Studies, or CNET). This project is partially funded by NASA’s Office of Space Science Applications as part of a co-operative programme that commenced in 1959, when the United States offered to launch satellites for any nation that wished to take part. Canada, Britain and Italy have all launched their first satellites under this programme (which is why they were launched on US rockets). Australia has been invited to participate but, so far, our government has rejected proposals from the scientific community on the basis that it cannot afford to fund the development of a satellite.


FR-1, the second French satellite mounted on its Scout launch vehicle, before the rocket is moved to the pad

The FR-1 satellite (France-1, also known as FR-1A) carries experiments to study VLF propagation in the magnetosphere and irregularities in the topside ionosphere. It also has an electron density probe to measure electron concentration in the vicinity of the satellite. Weighing 135lb, FR-1 looks like two truncated octagonal pyramids joined at their bases by an octagonal prism measuring 27 inches across from corner to corner. The body is covered with solar cells and bristles with antennae and probe booms. FR-1 is operating smoothly so far, but it carries no onboard tape recorder, so the satellite’s data has to be transmitted in real time when it passes over designated ground stations.

So why the rush to get the Asterix out before FR-1? The launch of Asterix seems to have been a combination of expediency and French nationalism. CNES and the Army were ready to do the first test launch of the Diamant rocket, and these sort of first tests are usually just done with a ballast payload, so that if the rocket fails nothing important is lost. In this case, CNES seems to have thought that they might as well take the risk of putting a satellite on the rocket, because if it succeeded it would give France the honour of being the third nation to launch its own satellite. As FR-1 was already at Vandenberg being prepped for launch, it was easier to pull out FR-2, which was a smaller satellite and already pretty well completed development, to become the payload for the Diamant flight. If the Diamant launch was then delayed for some reason, or failed, France would still become one of the earliest nations with a satellite in orbit with the launch of FR-1. So, as we say in Australia, they "had a bob both ways" on gaining some space kudos!

ISIS-X: International Cooperation Exploring the Ionosphere

NASA must now have a virtual production line, churning out Explorer satellites like sausages for launch about two weeks apart, if the past month has been anything to go by: there was Explorer-29 on 6 November, Explorer-30 on 19 November and now Explorer-31 on 29 November. This latest Explorer is also known as Direct Measurement Explorer-A (DME-A) and it represents the American half of a joint ionospheric research program with Canada, which is collectively known as International Satellites for Ionospheric Studies-X (ISIS-X).


Explorer-31 ready for shipment to Vandenberg Air Force Base

Explorer-31 weighs about 218lb and carries seven experiments that can be operated simultaneously or sequentially, taking direct measurements immediately in front of, and behind, the satellite's path. Solar cells that cover about 15 percent of the satellite’s surface provide its power. Like FR-1, this small spacecraft does not carry an onboard tape recorder, so its data has to be transmitted ‘live’ when it is turned on while passing over one of NASA’s Space Tracking and Data Acquisition Network (STADAN) ground stations.

Explorer-31 was launched from Vandenberg Air Force Base by a Thor Agena-B rocket, riding piggy-back with its Canadian ISIS-X counterpart, Alouette-2. This satellite has been developed by the Canadian Defence Research Board-Defence Research Telecommunications Establishment, as part of the same programme under which Canada’s first satellite, Alouette-1 was launched back in September 1962. This second Alouette has been developed from the original Alouette-1 back-up satellite, although it has more experiments and is a more sophisticated satellite than its predecessor. The name “Alouette” (skylark) comes from that popular French-Canadian folk song that I think everyone knows, even if they have never learned French.


Photos of Alouette-2 and Explorer-31 are hard to find, but they are reasonably well depicted on this souvenir cover marking their joint launch. It's lucky my Uncle Ernie goes to so much effort to build his space philately collection

At 323lb, Alouette is much larger than Explorer-31, but the two satellites have been placed in near identical orbits so that their data can complement each other. Alouette-2 is designed to explore the ionosphere using the technique of ‘topside sounding’, which determines ion concentration within the ionosphere by taking measurements from above the ionosphere. Alouette-1 was also a topside sounder. The satellite is carrying five instruments, three of which utilise two very long dipole antennae (one is 240ft, the other 75ft long). Alouette 2 also has no onboard data recorder and downloads its data when passing over stations in NASA’s STADAN network.

Luna-8-Fourth Time Unlucky!

Despite its early lunar exploration triumphs with Luna-1, 2 and 3 (which we in the West nicknamed “Lunik”, to match with Sputnik), the USSR has not had much success since with its Moon program. USSR’s Luna-8 probe, launched on 3 December, was the Soviet Union’s fourth attempt to soft-land a spacecraft on the lunar surface this year. Being able to land safely on the Moon is a technique that both the United States and the Soviet Union need to master in order to successfully accomplish a manned lunar landing later this decade. Two of this year’s attempts, Luna-5 and Luna-7, crashed while attempting to land. Luna 6 went off course and missed the Moon, flying by at 99,000 miles.

Luna-8, intended to land in the Oceanus Procellarum (Ocean of Storms), also failed in its mission yesterday. According to TASS, the “probe’s soft-landing system worked normally through all stages except the final touch-down”. It looks like Luna-8 has followed Luna-7 in crashing on the Moon. Let’s see if Russia has better luck with Luna 9!

Gemini 7-Settling in for a Long Haul

Just a day after Luna-8, the latest mission in NASA’s Gemini program, Gemini-7 was launched on what is planned to be a two-week endurance mission, that will include a rendezvous with the Gemini-6 spacecraft. I’m not going to write about this mission, as one of my colleagues here will do that later this month, but I couldn’t sign off on this article without mentioning the latest addition to the impressive list of spacecraft launched in the past few weeks. The Space Race is really speeding up!




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Science / Space Race

[November 22, 1965] Keep on Exploring (Explorer-29 and 30 and Venera-2 and 3)

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by Kaye Dee

November has been a busy month in space exploration with two new missions in NASA’s ongoing series of Explorer scientific satellites, and two spacecraft bound for Venus, launched by the Soviet Union. Let's get stuck right in and see why 1965 continues to be an amazing year for the space race.

GEOS is Go!

NASA’s Explorer series keeps on producing fascinating new scientific missions that help us discover as much about the Earth as they do about space. November’s first Explorer satellite, designated Explorer 29, also goes by the name of Geodetic Earth Orbiting Satellite (GEOS)-1 or GEOS-A. It is the first successful active spacecraft in the United States’ National Geodetic Satellite Program, and more are expected to follow.


NASA illustration of GEOS-1/Explorer-29 in orbit

Geodesy is the science of accurately measuring and understanding Earth's geometric shape, its orientation in space and the shape and characteristics of its gravitational field. You could say that passive satellite geodesy began with Vanguard-1, back in 1958, when scientists used the perturbations in its orbit to determine that the Earth is actually slightly pear-shaped, not quite that round ball we see in science fiction movies (though you'd have to have really sharp eyes to notice the difference!)

Satellite geodesy has come a long way in seven years and GOES-1 is carrying a suite of instruments that are designed to operate simultaneously, so that the data from each can be combined to give a highly accurate location for a point on the surface of the Earth. These instruments include four optical beacons, laser reflectors, Doppler beacons, and a range and range rate transponder. GEOS-1 also carries a SECOR transponder, the same type as used by satellites in the US Army’s satellite geodesy program, so that it can also contribute to that program’s research.


This US Army SECOR satellite bears an interesting resemblance to the Naval Research Laboratory's SOLRAD-8, as well as sharing a transponder type with GEOS-1

The objective is to use the data from all of Explorer-29’s instruments to precisely locate a series of observation points (or geodetic control stations) in a three dimensional “Earth centre-of-mass” coordinate system within 10 m of accuracy. These precision locations will help to improve the accuracy of cartography, surveying, and satellite navigation using the TRANSIT satellites.

GEOS-1’s instruments will also help in defining the structure of the earth's irregular gravitational field and refining the locations and magnitudes of the large gravity anomalies that have so far been detected. The various instrument systems will be compared with each other to determine which is the most accurate and reliable.

Explorer-29/GEOS-1 was launched from Cape Canaveral on 6 November (US time), on the first flight of the new Delta E launcher. Powered by solar cells, GEOS-1 uses gravity-gradient stabilisation, a relatively new technique that was first successfully tested on satellite 1963-22A, launched in June 1963. GEOS-1’s range and range rate transponder is tracked by NASA’s STADAN (Space Tracking and Data Acquisition Network) stations, including Carnarvon in Western Australia and the newly-operational station (just last month) at Orroral Valley, near Australia’s capital, Canberra.


NASA's new STADAN tracking station near Canberra tracks scientific satellites including the Explorer series – whatever alternate names they are known by

Satellite for a Quiet Sun

Explorer-29 was followed just two weeks later by Explorer-30, which also goes by the names of SOLRAD-8 and Solar Explorer-A (SE-A). The SOLRAD (short for Solar Radiation) program began in 1960, with the aim of providing continuous coverage of the wavelengths of solar radiation that can't be observed from Earth's surface. SOLRAD is a project of the Naval Research Laboratory and grew out of its earlier Vanguard program. Most of the earlier SOLRAD satellites have been launched piggy-back with other satellites (which, rumour has it, were of a classified nature), but SOLRAD-8 is the first to be launched as part of NASA’s Explorer program.

SOLRAD-8 is part of International Quiet Sun Year program, which is studying the upper atmosphere and the space environment during the Solar minimum, the least energetic time in the Sun's 11 year activity cycle. The data gathered during this period can then be compared with information obtained during the International Geophysical Year, when the Sun was at its most active.


The Naval Research Laboratory's SOLRAD-8 will help us to better understand the differences in the space environment between periods of maximum and minimum solar activity

Launched on November 19 by a Scout X-4 rocket from NASA’s Wallops Island facility, SOLRAD-8 is composed of two 24-inch aluminium hemispheres, with an equatorial ‘belt’ carrying 14 X-ray and Ultra-violet photometers. The satellite weighs 125 pounds and is powered by six solar panels. SOLRAD-8 is the first satellite to use a new type of miniature gas thruster, firing ammonia, to stabilise itself with its spin axis perpendicular to the Sun. It transmits data back to Earth in real time, using a FM/AM telemetry system that is recorded at NASA’s STADAN network stations.

Will we Lift the Veil of Venus This Time?

Venus has proved to be a difficult planet to explore. Only one space probe so far, NASA’s Mariner-2 in 1962, arrived safely at the planet and returned data which indicated that Venus was molten hot, shattering all those tales of a ‘jungle Venus’ or a planet of island dotted oceans, like ERB’s Amtor. But this month, the Soviet Union is making another attempt to visit our mysterious ‘sister’ planet and pierce its veil of clouds.


Official pictures released by the Soviet Union showing Venera-2 (top) and Venera-3 (below). The slight difference between the design of the two space probes is a hint that they might have different missions when they arrive at Venus

Not one, but two spacecraft are on their way to Venus: Venera-2, launched 12 November, was quickly – and much to the West’s surprise – followed only four days later by Venera-3. Both spacecraft were launched from the USSR’s Baikonur Cosmodrome and seem to be safely on their way. It is assumed that the Soviet Union has launched a pair of space probes so that, as with NASA’s Mariner-3 and 4, if one fails the other might still succeed in sending back data to Earth. However, TASS has said that the two probes have slightly different equipment, so some of my colleagues at the WRE have suggested that perhaps the Russians are trying something bolder with this twin mission: maybe one probe will perform a flyby past Venus and the other will either try to go into orbit – or maybe even impact on the planet’s surface. That would be a really exciting achievement: I can’t wait to learn what exciting information these spacecraft will send back to earth in a few months’ time!




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Science / Space Race

[October 14, 1965] Taking a Deep Dive (the SEALAB project)

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by Kaye Dee


The SEALAB II habitat on the dockside ready for its official launching ceremony

In my article at the end of August about the Gemini 5 mission, I mentioned the unique phone call that Gemini 5 commander Gordon Coper made from space to his fellow Mercury astronaut Scott Carpenter, who was working aboard the SEALAB II experimental underwater habitat. Carpenter is the first astronaut to also serve as an aquanaut, and the two roles are clearly related, since they both involve operations in dangerous, barely explored environments, isolated in small, confined craft. Since the third (and last) crew in SEALAB II has just completed their undersea mission, I thought it would be interesting to look at the SEALAB programme this month.

Getting Saturated

The SEALABs have been developed by the United States Navy to research the technique of saturated diving and enable a better understanding of the psychological and physiological stresses that affect people living in confined isolation for extended periods of time. This research into long-duration isolation is obviously relevant to space exploration as well as undersea activities.

Saturation diving is a technique that reduces the risk of decompression sickness (“the bends”) for divers working at great depths. If a diver breathes inert gasses, while in an environment pressurised to match the intended depth of a dive, the body will become saturated with the gasses, reaching a state of equilibrium once the blood and body tissues have absorbed all they can. Once this occurs, a diver’s decompression time will be the same whether he stays underwater for hours, days, weeks, or even months. This means that if a diver lives in a suitably pressurised habitat, he can work underwater for long periods and only have to undergo decompression once, at the end of his assignment.

The Genesis of SEALAB

SEALAB has its origins in a research programme by Captain George F. Bond, a US Navy physician. In 1957, Dr. Bond began Project Genesis at the Naval Submarine Medical Research Laboratory in Connecticut with the aim of demonstrating that divers could withstand prolonged exposure to different breathing gases at multi-atmosphere pressures. The first two phases of Project Genesis were carried out in 1957 and '58. This involved exposing animals, including rats, goats and monkeys to saturation using a variety of breathing gasses. Dr. Bond happened to meet Jacques Cousteau, the famous French oceanographer, when he gave a talk about the concept of saturation diving in 1957 and the two men became good friends. They co-operated on their diving research, and Cousteau even contributed some ideas to SEALAB II.


"Papa Topside", Dr. George F. Bond, (left) on the SEALAB I support ship with Argus Island in the background

NASA Keeps the Research Going

Despite his promising results, the Navy was not interested in funding the human trials that Dr. Bond needed to progress his research. Then, in 1962, NASA stepped in and funded the human research programme because it was interested in using a mixed -gas spacecraft atmosphere (either nitrogen-oxygen or helium-oxygen) for the Apollo programme – although it has now decided to use a simpler low-pressure oxygen atmosphere for the Apollo spacecraft, despite its potential fire danger.

Between 1962 and 1963, Capt. Bond, with the help of three volunteer divers, experimented with varying gas mixtures of oxygen, nitrogen and helium. One volunteer, Chief Quartermaster Robert A. (“Bob”) Barth took part in all these experiments and went on to become a member of the crews of SEALAB I and II.

"Papa Topside" and SEALAB I

By 1963, Capt. Bond’s team had collected enough data for the Navy to initiate its “Man in the Sea” programme, which would include an experimental habitat, dubbed SEALAB. Dr. Bond serves as the Senior Medical Officer and principal investigator of the SEALAB programme. The SEALAB I crew nicknamed him “Papa Topside”, for being always available on the support ship that kept station above the undersea habitat.

SEALAB I was a cigar-shaped chamber, 40 feet long and 10 feet in diameter. It was constructed from two converted steel floats and held in place with axles from railway cars. The lab had two portholes on each side and two open manholes in the bottom, but water didn’t enter because the pressure inside the chamber was the same as the surrounding water. SEALAB I used a helium-oxygen atmosphere that caused its crew to develop funny, squeaky voices that made them sound like a garbled Alvin the Chipmunk! The habitat was linked to its surface support ship by a Submersible Decompression Chamber, that served as a lift (elevator) between the two. Cables carried electricity, compressed gas, fresh water, communications, and atmosphere sampling lines between SEALAB and the support ship.


The quarters were pretty cramped and uncomfortable on board SEALAB I

First tested in the waters off Panama City, Florida, SEALAB I was lowered to 193ft into the Gulf of Mexico. It was then moved 26 miles southwest of Bermuda and lowered to a depth of 192ft, beside a US Navy research tower named “Argus Island”.

SEALAB I was both a habitability study and an experiment in developing safe decompression procedures for saturation diving. It had a crew of four aquanauts, including former experimental subject Bob Barth. They began their submerged sojourn on 20 July 1964, which was intended to last three weeks. The team investigated the effects of nitrogen narcosis on cognition, tried out the characteristics of the new “Neoprene” foam wet suit and performed many other performed physical and biological experiments. These included using ultrasonic beacons, current meters, and an anti-shark cage, as well as attempting to grow plants in the helium atmosphere.

Unfortunately, the SEALAB I mission had to be aborted after 11 days, due to an approaching hurricane. The support ship attempted to lift the habitat by crane from the ocean floor while slowly decompressing the divers (rising 1 foot every 20 minutes), but the churning sea caused the habitat to sway dangerously back and forth. As a result, the crew were transferred from the habitat to a small emergency decompression chamber and brought to the surface within minutes. 


An amazing underwater shot of the emergency decompression chamber coming to the rescue of the SEALAB I crew

Despite being cut short, SEALAB I was a major success, testing and proving the concept of saturation diving. Many lessons learned from SEALAB I would be applied in the development of its successor-SEALAB II. This included better solutions for raising and lowering the habitat (after two early attempts that dropped it!), lower humidity, improved umbilicals, and a reduction in the gear the divers needed to wear and store in the habitat. A helium voice unscrambler was also developed to improve communications with the aquanauts, because the changes that the gas made in their voices made them almost unintelligible.


The crew of SEALAB I with Mercury astronaut Scott Carpenter, who had originally planned to join their team. (left to right) Gunner's Mate First Class Lester E. Anderson; Lieutenant Robert E. Thompson; Astronaut M. Scott Carpenter, Chief Hospital Corpsman Sanders W. Manning; Chief Quartermaster Robert A. Barth

SEALAB II

SEALAB II is a big advance on its predecessor. Constructed in a naval dockyard in California, it is 57 feet long and 12 feet in diameter, with a small “conning tower”: I’ve heard someone describe it as looking like a “railway tank car, without the wheels”. It has eleven viewing ports and two exits. SEALAB II is also much better equipped, with hot showers, a built-in toilet (I wonder what they used on SEALAB I?), laboratory equipment and a fridge. The gas mixture used onboard is 77-78%helium, 18% nitrogen, and 3-5% oxygen at a pressure of 103 psi, which is seven times that of Earth's atmosphere! SEALAB I found that helium chilled the habitat uncomfortably, so SEALAB II has been fitted with heating coils in the deck to combat the cold. Air conditioning has also been included in this habitat, to reduces the humidity.

A new support ship was provided for SEALAB II, equipped with a Deck Decompression Chamber and a Pressurised Transfer Capsule, used to transport the aquanauts from the surface to the habitat. And, of course, Papa Topside was there, presiding over the experiment.


Inside the Tiltin' Hilton. This team photo of the first SEALAB II crew pokes fun at the habitat's slight tilt. Team leader Scott Carpenter is in the centre of the photo.

In August 1965, the habitat was placed at a depth of 205 feet in the La Jolla Canyon off the coast of California. The location has earned it the nickname of the "Tiltin' Hilton" because it was placed on a sloped part of the ocean floor, giving it a six-degree tilt and a slight cant to port. The first SEALAB II crew, consisting of 10 divers, swam down to the habitat to take up residence on August 28. One of those divers was Mercury astronaut M. Scott Carpenter, who has joined the SEALAB program on leave from NASA.

Astronaut Aquanaut

Carpenter became interested in the SEALAB program after meeting Jacques Cousteau in 1963. He originally planned to be a member of the SEALAB I crew, but was injured in a motorcycle accident during training and so was unable to participate in that experiment. But he became the commander of the first two teams to use SEALAB II, spending 30 days living on the ocean floor. SEALAB II has hosted three crews of ten men, each of 15 days duration. Altogether 28 divers occupied SEALAB II between August 28 and October 10, with Carpenter and Bob Barth both part of two crews.


Originally a Naval aviator, then an astronaut, now Scott Carpenter has added to his resume as the team leader of the first two SEALAB II crews

The SEALAB programme seems to have been a bit jinxed for Carpenter: his right index finger was wounded by the toxic spines of a scorpion fish. In addition to his conversation with Gemini 5, soon after his arrival on SEALAB II, during his time in decompression at the end of his mission, Carpenter also took part in another special telephone call, this time from President Lyndon Johnson. Since Carpenter was calling from a decompression chamber with a helium-oxygen atmosphere, his "chipmunk voice" was almost unintelligible as a helium voice unscrambler was not available! 

The cold water off the Californian coast has been a real test for the aquanauts, along with poor underwater visibility. Even with its heating coils and air conditioning, SEALAB II still experienced high humidity and cold, with the temperature having to be raised to 86°F to ward off the chill. Nevertheless, the aquanauts conducted many physiological experiments and tasks, including testing new tools, methods of salvage and trying out an experimental electrically heated drysuit.

Dolphin Delivery

The Navy Marine Mammal Program also supported SEALAB II, assigning one of its bottlenose dolphins, named Tuffy, to assist the SEALAB crews. Tuffy’s Navy trainers attempted to teach the dolphin useful skills, such as delivering supplies from the surface to SEALAB, or carrying items from one aquanaut to another. Tuffy was apparently not up to the standard of that famous TV dolphin, Flipper, but I’ve heard that he will also be assigned to the SEALAB III mission when that takes place, so the Navy must have been happy enough with his performance.


Tuffy the Navy dolphin, at work during the SEALAB II programme. Wonder if he'll get a TV series of his own some day?

Third time continues the charm?

The third, and last, crew to serve on SEALAB II departed the habitat on October 10, marking the conclusion of a very successful experimental programme. SEALAB I and II have been a resounding success and the knowledge gained from these expeditions will certainly help to improve the techniques of saturation diving and, consequently, the safety of deep-sea diving and rescue. I’ll be watching the future SEALAB III mission, when it arrives, with interest!




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