Category Archives: Science / Space Race

Space, Computers, and other technology

[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.

[If you have a membership to this year's Worldcon (in New Zealand) or did last year (Dublin), we would very much appreciate your nomination for Best Fanzine!  We work for egoboo…]






[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



[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…]




[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



[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…]




[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…



[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…]




[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…]




[November 23, 1964] Let’s Go Exploring! (NASA’s latest Explorer satellites)


by Kaye Dee

I’ve written before about how much I love satellite spotting and this month has given me three new ‘man-made moons’ to watch out for, with the latest additions to NASA’s Explorer scientific satellite program. Each of the new Explorer satellites is very different and their research tasks are all of real interest to me, as I’m concentrating on space physics for my Masters degree. But before I talk about them, I’m excited to share the most recent news from Woomera.

A Textbook Test Flight

On October 20, the second test flight of the Blue Streak stage for ELDO’s Europa launch vehicle took place. After the problems that occurred towards the end of the first test flight, which led to the rocket’s flight falling short of its intended landing area (see June entry), this latest launch was a complete success, demonstrating that the fuel sloshing issue has been solved. The engines fired for the 149.1 seconds, fractionally over their anticipated performance, and the Blue Streak impacted almost 1,000 miles down range. Everyone at the WRE is really pleased (and relieved) with this textbook test flight, as it means that the Europa development program can now keep moving forward. Can’t wait for the next test flight!


Blue Streak F-2 prepares to blast off at Woomera’s Launch Area 6.

But what has really captured my attention this month are the new missions in NASA’s Explorer program (which I last covered on September 6 and October 16). This series of scientific satellites continues to study the near space environment around the Earth and the nature of the Sun, as well as contributing to astronomy and space physics. 

Taking a Hit for Science

Explorer 23 was launched on 6 November, using a Scout rocket fired from NASA’s Wallops Island facility in Virginia, from which many satellites in the Explorer series have been launched. Also called S-55C, Explorer 23 is the third in a series of micrometeoroid research satellites. Explorer 13 (launched in August 1961) was the first in the series. It was also known as S-55A, following the failure of its predecessor, the original S-55 satellite (the S standing for Science). Explorer 16 (S-55B) was launched in December 1962. The purpose of the S-55 series is to gather data on the micrometeoroid environment in Earth orbit, so that an accurate estimate of the probability of spacecraft being struck and penetrated by micrometeoroids (very tiny pieces of rocks and dust from space) can be determined.


Explorer 13 was the first micrometeoroid research satellite to take a hit for science.

Each of the S-55 spacecraft is about 24 inches in diameter and 92 inches long, built around the burned out fourth stage of the Scout launch vehicle, which forms part of the orbiting satellite. Explorer 23 carries stainless steel pressurized-cell penetration detectors and impact detectors, to acquire data on the size, number, distribution, and momentum of dust particles in the near-earth environment. Its cadmium sulphide cell detectors were, unfortunately, damaged on lift-off and will not be providing any data. Explorer 23 is also designed to provide data on the effects of the space environment on the operation of capacitor penetration detectors and solar-cell power supplies.


(left) An illustration of Explorer 23 in orbit, showing its modified design compared to its predecessors. (right) Part of the backup Explorer 23 satellite.

Two Satellites for the Price of One Launch

November 21 saw the Explorer 24 and 25 satellites launched together on a Scout vehicle fired from Vandenberg Air Force base in California, which will put the satellites in a near-polar orbit. These two Explorers have been launched as part of the research program for the International Quiet Sun Years (IQSY). Just as the International Geophysical Year took place in 1957-58, during a period when solar activity was at its height, the IQSY is focusing on the Sun in the least active phase of the solar cycle, across 1964-65. This makes it possible to compare the data from Explorer 24 and 25 with earlier observations made from orbit when the Sun was more active. Having the satellites in dual orbits also makes it possible to compare the atmospheric density data gathered by Explorer 24 directly with the radiation data from Explorer 25.


A stamp from East Germany highlighting satellite-based research into the Van Allen radiation belts and other aspects of the near-space environment during the International Quiet Sun Years.

Explorer 24: A Balloon in Orbit

Although the two satellites work in conjunction with one another, they couldn’t be more different! Explorer 24 is a 12-foot diameter balloon made of alternating layers of aluminium foil and plastic film. It’s covered all over with 2-inch white dots that provide thermal control. Deflated and packaged in a small container, the balloon was packed on top of the Explorer 25 satellite for their joint launch and then inflated in orbit. A timer activated valves that inflated the balloon using compressed nitrogen. This process took about 30 minutes, after which the satellite was pushed away from the carrier rocket by a spring.


Explorer 24 hitched a ride to orbit on top of Explorer 25, before being inflated in space.

Explorer 24 is identical to the previously launched balloon satellites Explorer 9 (launched in February 1961) and 19 (launched in December 1963). Explorer 19 was also known as AD-A (for Air Density) and Explorer 24 is also designated as AD-B.  All three of the balloon satellites have been designed to provide data on atmospheric density near the perigee (lowest point) of their orbit, through a series of sequential observations as they move across the sky.

Like its predecessors, Explorer 24 will be tracked both visually and by radio, as it carries a 136-MHz tracking beacon. Explorer 19’s tracking beacon failed while it was in orbit, and so it could only be tracked visually by the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory’s network of Baker-Nunn telescope cameras. There is one of these stations at Woomera and my former computing colleagues at the WRE’s Satellite Centre in Salisbury, South Australia, assisted with converting its observations into the orbital calculations that the scientific researchers needed. 

Explorer 25: Studying the Ionosphere

Explorer 25’s primary mission is to investigate the Ionosphere, make measurements of the influx of energetic particles into the Earth’s atmosphere, studying atmospheric heating, as well as the Earth’s magnetic field. It will be magnetically stabilised in orbit through the use of a magnet and a magnetic damping rod and carries a magnetometer to measure its alignment with the Earth’s magnetic field. One of its particularly interesting tasks will be to study and compare the artificial radiation belt created by the Starfish Prime high-altitude nuclear explosion and the natural Van Allen radiation belts.

Explorer 25 is also known as Injun 4 and Ionosphere Explorer B (IE-B). It is the latest satellites in the Injun series, which have been developed at the University of Iowa under Professor James Van Allen, after whom the Van Allen radiation belts are named. Van Allen himself gave these satellites the name Injun after the character Injun Joe in Mark Twain’s Adventures of Tom Sawyer. The first three Injun satellites were only qualified success and were not actually part of the Explorer program. However, as IE-B, Injun 4/ Explorer 25 extends the research being carried by Explorer 20, that I wrote about in September.


James Van Allen (centre) with a replica of the Explorer 1 satellite, for which he provided the scientific instruments that contributed to the discovery of the Van Allen radiation belts. With him are William Pickering (left), the Director of the NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory and (right) Wernher von Braun, whose team developed the Juno rocket that launched Explorer 1.

Explorer 25 is roughly spherical and almost 24 inches in diameter. It has 50 flat surfaces: 30 of them are carrying solar cells that are used to recharge the batteries that power the satellite. The satellite is also equipped with a tape recorder and analogue-to-digital converters, so that it can send digital data directly to a ground station at the University of Iowa.

Science Streaks Across the Sky

It is simply marvelous how rapidly we are expanding our knowledge of the universe above. Just seven years ago, there hadn't been a single Explorer; now there are twenty five! I’m looking forward to spotting all these science gatherers in the evening sky over the coming weeks — and eventually telling you what they find up there!


[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…]




[November 1, 1964] Time (sharing) travel


by Ida Moya

New Toys for Los Alamos

As the Traveler said, things have really been heating up in Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory (LASL). And what with President Kennedy being taken from us so traumatically last year, it has all been too much. We have been struggling with national security while mourning the loss of our leader, and also attending to a deluge of new computers that are coming into the lab. Things have calmed down a little so I am now able to share a few secrets with you again.

Page from LA-1 document
Page from the Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory report LA-1

I've been busy helping with the preparation of the upcoming declassification of the Los Alamos Primer. This is the very first official technical report we produced at LASL, numbered LA-1. It is based on 5 lectures introducing the principles of nuclear weapons. These lectures were given in 1943 by LASL librarian Charlotte Serber’s husband, the physicist Robert Serber. You bet it's release took a long time to get this approved. Doing the work to cross out all those “Secret Limited” stamps and restamp each page with "Unclassified" also took some time.

Los Alamos is so important to the nation’s top-secret defense work that we are able to commandeer the first of each of the fastest computers manufactured. We had Serial no. 1 of the IBM 701 “Defense Calculator” in 1953. LASL also tested one of the first of 8 IBM 7030 “Stretch” computers, which even with its uptime shortcomings can calculate so fast that some people call it a “Supercomputer.”

I’m sure I also told you that we finally received our IBM 7090 computer. This equipment is being used for big science calculations around atomic energy, guided missile control, strategic planning (cryptanalysis, weather prediction, game theory), and jet engine design. I'm sure it is no surprise when I tell you we are using it to simulate nuclear explosions. This computer also has what they call an “upgrade,” the addition of more memory and input-output capability. The upgraded computer is called an IBM 7094.

Scientists at LASL, Lawrence Livermore Radiation Laboratory, and Massachusetts Institute of Technology have been working on better ways for computer operators to use the IBM 7094. Rather than custom-writing each computer operation and calculation that have to be done, they are working on a kind of “supervisor” to allow for more than one person to use the computer at the same time. This "operating system" is called CTSS or Compatible Time Sharing System.

Robert Fano sitting at a teletype
I don't have a current picture of Marge, but here is MIT Professor Robert Fano using CTSS from a Teletype ASR 35.

Sharing the Wealth

It's difficult to convey just how important this will be. Computers are hideously expensive things, often costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. They are also vital for any scientific institution's operations. Currently, only one person at a time can use them, which results in one of two situations. Either one person at a time has a monopoly on the machine during for the time it takes to compose and enter a program into the machine (incredibly inefficient) or programs are written "off-line" and run in a "batch". This latter solution ensures that the computer is always running, but it means no one can access the computer in real-time, and it might take days to get results (or notice that the program failed to run correctly!)

With time-sharing, several people can use a computer at once, running different programs in real-time. While the performance might not be as efficient for the computer, since it is accommodating multiple processes at once, the increased efficiency for the operator should more than make up for it.

One of my colleagues at MIT, Marjorie Merwin-Dagget, co-wrote a paper with Robert C. Daly and MIT lab head Fernando J. Corbato (Corby) about the CTSS operating system. You can have a look at it here An Experimental TIme Sharing System.

The Mother of Invention

Marge majored in math, taught for a couple of years, then found a position doing calculations and differential equations at an engineering lab. In the mid-50s, one of Marge’s female colleagues at this lab was sent to MIT to learn about the Whirlwind computer, and when this colleague came back, she taught her about how to code for Whirlwind.

Marge then leveraged this knowledge to code applications for a card punch calculator, an IBM 407 accounting machine, which was much quicker than the manual equipment their lab had been using. This clever coding work helped her land a job from Prof. Frank Verzuh in the MIT computer center. Marge got her friend Robert "Bob" Daly a job there too, because he was so skilled programming the IBM 407.

IBM 407 Accounting Machine showing detail of plugboard.
The IBM 407 Accounting Machine is "programmed" by changing wires on this plugboard.

One of Marge's first assignments was to compare assembly language programming to FORTRAN programming. Her findings are that FORTRAN is quicker to use and easier for other programmers to understand. She quickly became the FORTRAN expert of her group. She even got to work with the brilliant John McCarthy. John has been promoting the notion of timesharing computer systems at MIT and beyond. These computers are so fast that, John reasons, that several people can use them at once.

Marge tells me that Corby thought she and Bob are the best programmers on the staff. CTSS started  as a demo, to demonstrate the feasibility of computer timesharing. This demo turned into a viable system, something people wanted to actually use. She worked one-on-one a lot with Corby, rehashing the problems. They ended up working a lot at odd hours, staying up late going over listings and working out the problems. Kind of like those “hackers” I told you about last year. She was so excited when she told me that it finally worked for two Flexowriters.

Fernando Corbato stands amidst an IBM 7090 computer system.
MIT's Fernando Corbato standing amidst some of an IBM 7090 computer system at MIT.

Corby worked on programming the supervisor and queueing, while Marge took the task of coding interrupt handling, saving the state of the machine, commands, character handling, and a method for inputting and editing lines for the demos. Bob Daly was best at translating this to the mechanical working of the computer.

After co-writing this paper, Marge got married and took a leave of absence after her first child was born. She did return to MIT last year (1963), and is working part-time on smaller support projects outside the mainstream of CTSS development. It’s troubling how difficult it is for a woman to juggle fulfilling technical work with the demands of raising a young family.

Things to Come

Next time, I will tell you about our newest Supercomputer, the CDC 6600. This remarkable machine, designed by that wag Seymour Cray, is being installed in Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory right now. It is so fast and hot that it has to be cooled by Freon, which is making for a lot of fuss with air conditioning technicians coming and going to the lab. I spend a lot of time making copies of "Site Preparation Guide" manuals for everyone from the managers to the technicians. There's a lot more to these computers than just programming languages, that's for sure.  I hear that IBM is working on a new computer system, the 360. One of its requirements is that the pieces be able to fit through standard doors, and ride in standard elevators. Guess buyers are getting tired of having to break through walls to get their computers installed!

CDC 6600 computer system
Installation manual photo of the CDC 6600. Look at that display console with the two round screens, perfect decor for your evil lair.


[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…]




[Oct. 16, 1964] Three in One (The next leg of the Space Race)


by Gideon Marcus

A whole new ballgame

It's not often that news of the next stage in the Space Race is eclipsed by an even bigger story.  Yet that's exactly what happened this tumultuous week, a handful of days so crazy that we halted publication ("STOP THE PRESSES!") to keep up with events.

It all started with "Kosmos 47", launched just after midnight (San Diego time) on October 6.  While the Soviets were typically close-lipped about its purpose, from its orbital path, it was suspected that the 24 hour flight was actually an uncrewed test of a new type of Soviet spacecraft.

Sure enough, just six days later, Voskhod ("Sunrise") #1 took off.  On board were three cosmonauts: Commander Vladimir Mikahilovich Komarov, civilian scientist Konstantin Petrovich Feoktistov, and civilian physician Boris Borisovich Yegorov.

This is huge news — both the American Mercury and Soviet Vostok space programs ended more than a year ago.  Those spacecraft only fit one person.  Since then, the United States has been hard at work on both its three-person Apollo lunar craft and its intermediate two-seat Gemini ship.  Although Gemini has already flown once, the first crewed flight won't happen until early next year.

And here are the Soviets, already throwing up a three person spaceship!  Could they be closer to a Moon mission than we thought?

On their eighth orbit, Voskhod's cosmonauts passed over the United States and radioed, "From aboard the spaceship, Voskhod, we convey our best wishes to the industrious American people.  We wish the people of the United States peace and happiness."

Interestingly, a second radio exchange was heard afterwards, during orbit sixteen: the three cosmonauts requested permission to extend the mission beyond 24 hours.  The request was denied, and the flight ended just one day after it had begun.

Why is this strange?  Well, one of the stated goals of the mission was "Extended medio-biological investigations in conditions of a long flight."  And while 24 hours is a long flight by American standards (that of Gordo Cooper in Faith 7 was about a day and a half), the Soviets have been flying day-long and longer missions since Gherman Titov's flight in 1961.  Did something go wrong with the spaceship? 

It turns out the problem was on the ground.  Even as the three cosmonauts were making history in space, the Presidium was holding a vote of no confidence, citing Khruschev's age and health as reasons for his dismissal.  Leonid Brezhnev was elevated to Secretary of the Communist Party and Andrei Kosygin was named Premier.  When the space travelers landed, they were whisked to Moscow where they must have been quite surprised to meet the new leadership!

Still, regardless of who is wearing the crown behind the Iron Curtain, there is no question that Voskhod was a tremendous accomplishment.  The question now is: What will they follow it up with?

Beep Beep, says America

Though perhaps not as impressive to some, the United States maintains the lead in automated space science.  Just this month, we launched the two latest Explorer satellites, 21 and 22.  And while those numbers seem a lot lower than what the Soviet "Kosmos" series has gotten up to, we have to remember that Kosmos conceals a wide variety of satellites, most of which have never resulted in a scientific paper.  They have probably snapped a great many photos of Midwest missile bases, though.

In contrast, the Explorer program is just one of many devoted to returning scientific data from the heavens.  Explorer 21, launched on October 4 (seven years after Sputnik) is the second of its type.  Also known as Interplanetary Monitoring Platform (IMP) B, its job is the same as that of Explorer 18, launched in last year — to measure the magnetic fields, cosmic rays, solar wind, and charged particles far from the Earth.  This helps us understand the physics of the solar system, and it lets us map the electromagnetic "terrain" of the space between Earth and the Moon.  The IMPs are blazing a trail for Apollo, making sure it's safe for people out there.

Unfortunately, the third stage on IMP-B's Thor Delta launch booster fizzled, and instead of soaring 160,000 miles from the Earth, Explorer 21 barely gets to 60,000.  This is within the hellish Van Allen radiation belts, so even though Explorer 21's nine instruments are performing perfectly, the data being returned tells nothing about the universe beyond Earth's magnetic system.

However, Explorer 22, launched October 10, is doing just fine.  It's the last of NASA's first phase of ionospheric explorers, measuring the electron density in the upper atmosphere.  Before your eyes glaze, that just means it sees how electrically charged the air is in the layer that reflects radio waves.  Such experiments help us better understand how the Sun affects our broadcasts — and allows us to make plans for unusual space weather events. 

The satellite, also known as Beacon Satellite B ("A" failed to orbit on March 29) is also the first of NASA's geodetic satellites, measuring the shape of the Earth with tremendous precision.  What's neat about Explorer 22 is that the spacecraft is actually quite unsophisticated, just three radio beacons and a laser reflector.  More noteworthy are the 80 tracking stations run by 50 scientific groups in 32 countries.  These provide a worldwide web, collecting navigational data on an unprecedented scale.

And since it's a civilian probe, we'll probably even share the information with the Communists.  You tell me who's winning the Space Race…


[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…]




[October 6, 1964] Up, Up and Away! Supersonic Aircraft Test Flights


by Kaye Dee

I’m fascinated by supersonic aircraft design, so the end of September gave me plenty to get excited about with the first test flights of some of the West’s most advanced military aircraft. On September 21 in the US, the North American Aviation XB-70 Valkyrie flew for the first time. This prototype has to be one of the most gorgeous aircraft ever designed: with its delta wing and needle nose, it looks like it has flown off the cover of a science fiction magazine! It reminds me a lot of the prototype designs for the Anglo-French Concorde on which the British aircraft industry is pinning its hopes for future aviation industry dominance.


A model of the Concorde prototype design at the Farnborough Airshow in 1962. Delta wings are clearly in fashion for supersonic aircraft

XB-70: Floating on Air

The Valkyrie was designed to be a high-altitude Mach 3 strategic bomber, although the operational B-70 version was cancelled back in 1961 and the aircraft will now be used to test new supersonic aviation technologies. One of the heaviest aircraft in the world, according to Flight magazine, the XB-70 is constructed mostly of stainless steel, sandwiched honeycomb panels, and titanium. Like the Concorde, the Valkyrie boasts a droop-snoot, or lowerable nose, that allows the pilots to view the ground during its nose-high take-off and landing.


The final design drawing for the B-70 bomber, for which the Valkyrie was intended to be the prototype

What I find particularly interesting about the XB-70 is that it uses the technique of compression lift to improve the overall lift of the aircraft and increase its directional stability at supersonic speeds. Only discovered in the 1950s, the compression lift effect is generated by a shock wave that is created when air strikes the sharp leading edge of the central engine air intake splitter plate below the wing, behind which are six General Electric YJ93-GE-3 turbojet engines. This effect is strengthened by the downward folding wingtips that help to trap the shock wave under the wings. Yes, the XB-70 actually has hinged wingtips that tilt down as far as 65 degrees!


The XB-70 Valkyrie ready for its first test flight. Note the hinged wingtips are in the horizontal position for take-off

The Valkyrie’s maiden test flight saw it hop between the manufacturing facility at Palmdale, in California, and Edwards Air Force Base. It wasn’t all smooth sailing, though, as one engine had to be shut down shortly after take-off and an undercarriage malfunction warning meant that the flight was flown with the undercarriage down as a precaution. This limited the flight to a speed of 390 mph, which was about half of what had been planned and only a fraction of the XB-70’s 2,000mph maximum speed. Additionally, during landing the rear wheels of the port side main gear locked, causing two tyres to rupture and start a fire. Despite these teething problems I’m looking forward to future test flights of this amazing aircraft—the next one is due in a couple of weeks, so maybe I’ll write more about it next month.


As the Valkyrie lifts off we get a good view of the air intake splitter that generates the shockwave for the compression lift effect. Its six engines are housed behind the air intake

TSR-2: A Cross Between a Bomber and a Missile

Oddly enough, while Britain’s latest RAF prototype is also delta-winged and powered by two Olympus 320 engines, similar to those that will be used on the Concorde, it resembles the Concorde far less than the Valkyrie, though it still looks sleek and deadly! The TSR-2—the name is derived from its role as a “tactical strike and reconnaissance” bomber— took to the skies for a 15-minute test flight on September 27 at the Ministry of Aviation's Aeroplane and Armament Experimental Establishment at Boscombe Down. The test flight looked to be quite successful, though I’ve heard on the WRE grapevine that the aircraft actually had many problems and was only marginally ready for a test flight.


TSR-2 undergoing an engine test before its first flight. The aircraft was painted 'anti-flash white' to reflect some of the thermal radiation from a nuclear explosion and protect it and the crew

Developed by the British Aircraft Corporation (BAC), the TSR-2 is designed to make its attack run at ground-level, under the control of terrain-following radar. It’s a ‘short take-off and landing’ vehicle that can carry conventional or nuclear weapons and is capable of flying above Mach 2 at 40,000 ft or around Mach 1 during low-level bombing runs. This versatility places the aircraft at the intersection of the capabilities of the manned bomber and the long-range missile. The TSR-2 is similar to the Valkyrie in that it has downturned wingtips, fixed at an angle of 30 degrees, to enhance its stability in high speed flight. However, as its test flight showed, those wing tips generate trailing white vortices, which might make the TSR-2 less than inconspicuous during an attack run!


On a ground attack run, the TSR-2 will be advertising its position with its smoking exhaust and white wing vortices

The TSR-2’s development has been fraught with controversy and more than once threatened with cancellation. Some commentators are calling this test flight the current British Government’s last political act before the upcoming elections in Britain, and I guess only the future will tell whether the TSR-2 goes on to become operational, or whether the next Government will finally cancel the plane and buy a replacement from America instead.


The YF-12A at Edwards Air Force Base before its first public test flight

YF-12A: Fast, Powerful and Just a Bit Mysterious

Another US Air Force prototype has been the most recent test flight to catch my attention, with the Lockheed YF-12A unveiled to the world at a press conference at Edwards Air Force Base on September 30. Claimed to be "the world's fastest military aircraft" (though perhaps the XB-70 would beg to differ), the YF-12A is a prototype interceptor capable of reaching 2,000 miles per hour and an altitude of over 80,000 feet. With its long, sleek fuselage and huge engine nacelles mounted on either side of the body (carrying the two Pratt & Whitney J58 turbojets that power it), the YF-12A is another design that looks like something out of a science fiction film, but it certainly conveys an impression of high speed and I suspect it will be setting new speed and altitude records before too long.


The pressure suits worn by the YF-12A crew don't look much different from an astronaut's spacesuit. It really helps to show how high this bird can fly!

Made mostly of titanium, to handle the heat generated by its high speeds, the YF-12 is painted dead black, to help radiate the heat from its skin. It carries a crew of two: a pilot and a fire control officer, to operate the air-to-air missile system, which includes a powerful radar and four Hughes AIM-47A Falcon air-to-air missiles carried in chine bays within the fuselage. Unlike the Valkyrie and the TSR-2, it uses a skid landing system, rather than a more conventional undercarriage. There isn’t a lot of detail available yet about the YF-12A, and rumour has it that it is the ‘public version’ of an aircraft that is still top secret, but I certainly hope to see more of it in the future.


(Top) A view of the YF-12A showing the twin crew positions (Bottom) The AIM-47 air-to-air missile that forms the YF-12's armament


[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…]