Tag Archives: space

Trifecta (Discoverer V; Beacon 2; Titan failures; 8-15-1959)

The Air Force launched the fifth in its Discoverer series on August 13.  Like the last one, there were no passengers on-board (though the recovery capsule was bigger this time around).  Unlike the last flight, this one actually made it into polar orbit after its early afternoon launch from the deserts of California.  The second stage worked properly, and a tracking station in Kodiak, Alaska (as in "the State of") registered Discoverer's healthy "beep-beeps."

The plan was to eject the 300-pound recovery capsule after orbit #16 and attempt to catch it in mid-descent.  Unfortunately, what goes up does not always come down.  While a fleet of recovery ships and planes milled about impatiently in the Pacific Ocean, the capsule's retrorocket fired the craft upwards rather than back to Earth.  It is still in orbit, where it will remain for a long time.  It's a good thing there weren't any passengers (not that they would have survived anyway; I understand that the capsule's internal temperature was far lower than expected, and any rodentnauts would have ended up micicles).

Continuing in the vein of mission fizziles, Beacon 2, a 12-foot balloon satellite design to measure atmospheric density in orbit (there is air up there–just extremely tenuous), failed to orbit when the upper stages of its Juno II rocket misfired due to premature fuel depletion on the first stage.  It was a repeat of the failure of the first Beacon on October 23, 1958, which I did not cover for some unknown reason.  In that case, the upper stages of the Juno I rocket fired too early. 

Not quite a space shot, there was a third noteworthy rocket failure this week.  At the Atlantic Missile Range yesterday, there was a triple-launch of new missiles: the Thor IRBM, which has been heavily employed both as a military system and as a launch system, the Polaris sub-launched missile, and the new Titan ICBM.  The first two had good launches, though the camera package in the nosecone of the Thor has not been recovered from the Atlantic ocean.  The Titan blew up on the stand, however.

Still, while it is disappointing to read about so many failures in one week, it is exciting that launches are occurring so frequently.  Moreover, Explorer VI continues to do yeoman's work in orbit, supplanting Sputnik III (which failed in early May) as the most advanced space laboratory.

Next time–Astounding (packed with… yech… Garrett)!

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Earthbound Pioneer (Explorer VI; 8-08-1959)

We are now in the second phase of the Space Race.

Decades from now, people will debate over the exact date of the turning point.  Some will argue that it started when countries started sending rockets to the moon, leaving the shackles of Earth's orbit.  Others will say that spaceflight didn't leave its infancy until humans had been sent into space.

But, I contend that a whole new ballgame opened up yesterday with the launching of Explorer VI.

This latest satellite is, in some ways, just an evolutionary step.  Its payload of experiments is little different from the slew of instruments carried by its predecessors, the Air Force Pioneers.  It's got geiger tubes and scintillators for measuring cosmic rays, magnetometers for mapping Earth's magnetic fields, a micrometeroid detector, and a crude TV camera–all devices that went up on the ill-fated Pioneer II.

But, the probe also has an impressive array of solar cells affixed to four paddle wheels that make Explorer look like a little windmill.  Moreover, the satellite is equipped with two communications systems.  One of them is analog, like those employed by all previous satellites, in which information is communicated by modulating the amplitude and/or frequency of transmissions, like your AM or newfangled FM radio.  The other is digital using nothing but streams of ones and zeroes.  This method is far less prone to error and noise, and it uses bandwidth more efficienctly, requiring less power.

A digital system is above and beyond the needs of an orbital probe, so why bother including it?  Because Explorer VI is a test-bed.  A spacecraft very much like it will be launched to Venus some time in the near future, and it will need a digital system to communicate from that vast 25 million mile distance.

Until Explorer VI, we were launching little experiment packages.  Now, we have a bonafide orbital scientific and engineering laboratory in space, the results of which will revolutionize where spaceflight goes from here.

A natural extension of this is that I don't have this satellite's results for you yet.  Unlike my other columns, where I've been able to sum up a mission and its findings generally in one article, Explorer VI is going to collect mountains of data, and it will take time to sort it out. 

So stay tuned! 

P.S. The October 1959 issue of Galaxy has come out.  I'm half-way through and will be telling you all about it next week.  Come join me in my journey (but try not to send me letters about it until I publish the articles).

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Exploring the ground (7-22-1959)

Just a quick stop-press today while I wait for the new magazines to come in.  Apparently, NASA tried another satellite launch last week on the 16th.  A Juno II rocket, which is a modified Jupiter Intermediate Ranged Ballistic Missile, had the latest in the Explorer series installed at its tip.  Weighing 42 kilograms (that’s 92.4 pounds for the metrically uninitiated), it looked a bit like a bigger Pioneer 1–two truncated cones welded together at their base. 

As might be expected from the choice of booster, it’s a product of Von Braun’s Alabama Army-sponsored team (which, rumor has it, may well be folded into NASA proper soon).

Its instrument complement was pretty standard stuff: geiger counters, x-ray detectors, micrometeoroid plates, thermometers.  What makes this craft special are the solar power elements built into the design; the probe was built to provide long-term measurements of cosmic radiation and the Earth’s heat balance. 

Sadly, the rocket lost power to its guidance system immediately after launch, and the thing started to spin in a wide, dangerous ark.  A range controller detonated the booster just 5 and a half seconds into the flight.  Too late for the Fourth of July, and I doubt the scientists were pleased.

I understand that the next flight of the package is scheduled for October.  My fingers are crossed, but I understand NASA is planning an Air Force-contracted shot next month, and that probe, made by my friends at Space Technology Laboratories, may well include all of the same instruments and more.

Thus, the Space Race continues domestically as well as abroad.  Nothing like good ol’ fashioned American competition to keep the satellite makers on their toes! 
See you soon!

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Space Bunnies! (July 9, 1959)

It’s time for a Space Race update!  I hear mixed cheers and groans.  Well, it takes all kinds to make a column…

The Soviets have launched a rocket into space, apparently on a sub-orbital path using an equivalent to our Jupiter IRBM, with several living passengers.  They are the dogs, Otvazhnaya and Sznezinka, as well as the first Space Bunny, Marfusa.  The flight apparently took place on July 2, and all animals reportedly returned safely to the Earth.  In fact, if the report be believed, this was Otvazhnaya's third such flight.  Given the long press delay and the lack of reporting on failures, I take Soviet press releases with several grains of salt.

Still, if it’s accurate, it means that the Soviets figured out animal recovery well ahead of us.  I’d estimate that the Communists are about half a year closer to a manned mission than we are.

Speaking of estimations, take a gander at IMPACT OF US AND SOVIET SPACE PROGRAMS ON WORLD OPINION, hot off the presses of the USIA Office of Research Analysis.  As it says on the tin, it’s a fascinating snapshot of domestic and world opinion of the space program.  It’s short, so do read it.

In particular, I liked the point that Space Race reporting has become more rational, less sensational.  I also enjoyed seeing the breakdown of those nations who feel the U.S.S.R. is ahead in the Race versus those who feel the U.S.A. is in the lead.  The distribution is predictable, I think.

Per the report, virtually all reporting links the space programs of the two superpowers with their military programs, which I think is sensible.  That said, it is my understanding that there is increasing resistance in the U.S. Congress to letting the Army team under Von Braun continue development of the enormous Saturn rocket.  It’s just too big to serve any practical military service, it is said.  If the program is transferred to NASA, our fledgling civilian space program, perhaps we will have a truly inspiring non-military space presence. 

If we can forget what Von Braun’s job was just 14 years ago.  Ah well, “Once the rockets are up, who cares where they come down!” as one wise man has observed.


Image by Starbound

See you in two days!



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Two for two (Vanguard and Discoverer failures; 6-26-1959)

It's another Space Race update from The Traveler!

A Vanguard went up on the 22nd, but I decided to hold off on writing a column as I knew a Discoverer was set to launch on the 25th.  I'm afraid I've got a double-whammy of disappointment for my good readers.

This new Vanguard had two thermistors (heat-activated electrodes) adorning the magneisum-alloy skin of the 20" diameter sphere, one facing the sun, one facing inward.  The point of this experiment was to measure the heat balance of the sun's radiation on the Earth.  Why is this important?  The primary engine for the Earth's weather is the sun's heating of the atmosphere.  Hot air rises, cold air sinks, and the spinning Earth mixes all of this thoroughly and chaotically.  If we knew how strong the sun's rays were at various latitudes, we could correlate these findings to heat flow in the lower atmosphere and learn a great deal.


NASA photo–I don't know who those folk are.

The rocket soared out of sight of observers, seemingly on a flawless trajectory.  However, it appears that one of the second-stage pressure valves was faulty; no signal from the satellite was ever caught on the ground by any of the many Minitrack receiving stations around the globe.

The sad news is that there is only one booster left to the Vanguard program.  After the next shot, it's all over.  I hope these experiments don't get abandoned!


From a postcard I picked up this week–wishful thinking, as it turned out.

Discoverer 4 took off yesterday, and it seemed to be a good launch, but then the second stage (the "Hustler") failed, and the payload never reached orbit.  From the press releases, the Air Force was testing a new capsule designed to carry monkeys.  Given that there were no actual passengers on the mission, I can think of two possibilities:

1) The Air Force doesn't want to actually send up any more animals lest the critter-lovers of the world let out a cry and hue (bigger than they already have), at least until the flyboys have perfected their rockets, or

2) There was a payload on Discoverer 4 equipped with eyes, but it wasn't an animate one.

Which one do you think is more plausible?

In other news, my F&SF and Astounding magazines have come in for this month, and I picked up last month's IF as well.  I'm also reading Sam Merwin's Well of Many Worlds, one of the first "sideways in time" stories.  So expect a lot of fiction reviews in the near future!



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Less than astounding…  (July 1959 Astounding; 6-23-1959)

I suppose it was too much to hope for two good issues of Astounding in a row.  The magazine that Campbell built is back to its standard level of quality, which is to say the bar is not very high.  Still, I read the stories so you don't have to (if you don't want), so here's all the news that fits to print.

Randal Garrett's But I don't think isn't horrible.  It's actually genuine satire, about a ordnance evasion officer (a "Guesser") who ends up inadvertently jumping ship during shoreleave.  He is the denizen of a lawfully evil and hierarchical society, and the story is all about the miserable things he does and that are done to him in large part due to this evil culture.  It'll leave a dirty taste in your mouth, like old cigarette butts, but I think it was actually intentional this time. 

It's not exactly downhill from here, but there aren't exactly heights, either.  The next story, Broken Tool, by Theodore L. Thomas, is a short piece about a candidate for the Space Corps, who ends up washing out because he, ironically, doesn't have enough attachment to his home planet of Earth.  A "gotcha" story, the kind I might expect to find in one of the lesser magazines… not that they exist anymore.

I generally like Algis Budrys, and his Straw, about an entrepreneur who pulled himself up by his bootstraps and became the Big Man of the underwater community of Atlantis, isn't bad.  It's just not terribly great. 

Isaac Asimov has an interesting article entitled, Unartificial elements, explaining how all of the elements humans have managed to synthesize actually do exist in nature, albeit in rather small amounts.  This was the best part of the magazine.

There are two stories after the last installment of Dorsai, which I reviewed last time.  Chris Anvil's Leverage is a mildly entertaining story about colonists dealing with a planet's ecosphere that has a single-minded, but fatally flawed, vendetta against the settlers.  Another low-grade story I'd expect in Imagination or somewhere similar.

Finally, we have Vanishing Point, by C.C. Beck, the illustrator for D.C.'s Captain Marvel.  It's all about what happens when an artist learns the true nature of perspective.  Cute, but, again, not much to it.

Campbell published the user reviews for March and April 1959.  I won't go into great detail, but suffice it to say, Leinster's Pirates of Ersatz topped both months.  But in March, Despoiler of the Golden Empire got #2, whereas my favorite, The Man Who Did Not Fit was bottommost.  The April results were less disappointing–Now Inhale got #2, and Wherever You Are got #3.  I probably would have swapped the places, but I suppose a female protagonist may be too much for Analog readers to swallow comfortably.

Lots of space launches coming up–a Vanguard and a Discoverer, so expect some launch reports this week!

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Four blind mice (Discoverer III;6-04-1959)

It's a bad time to be an experimental animal, if there ever was (or will be) a good one.

The Air Force launched Discoverer III last night with a payload of four plump black mice.  As you know, if you read the papers or my column, Discoverer is a satellite program for shooting missions into polar orbit (i.e. over the poles, ultimately covering the entire Earth) ostensibly for the purpose of sending biological specimens into space and then recovering them in a detachable capsule. 

Of course, a polar orbit is particularly good for reconaissance, and a detachable capsule can carry film as well as mice.  I'm sure the Soviets aren't buying the "space science" angle any more than I am.  Still, if we get any science out of the program, that's an added bonus.

Unfortunately, the mice of Discoverer III can't catch a break. Last week, the launch was scrubbed because telemetry from the mice had ceased.  The technicians thumped on the nose cone, thinking the mice were asleep.  They were, in fact, dead, having eaten the krylon coating of their cages.

A few days later, the launch was scrubbed when the nose cone sensors returned a 100% humidity level.  Turns out that the mice had urinated on the sensors (a similar incident looks to have happened on one of last year's Thor-Able flights).

Yesterday, the rocket finally launched, but the second stage of the Thor-Hustler rocket flipped the payload and drove it straight into the Pacific ocean.  Nothing could have survived that. 

I understand that this incident has piqued the ire of several organizations promoting the ethical treatment of animals, particularly as this comes right on the heels of a suborbital Jupiter test flight on May 28, which had the monkeys, Able and Baker, as unwitting passengers.  Though the mission was a success, I have it on good authority that Able died the other day after an unsuccessful surgery to remove an electrode.  Six months before, a similar flight resulted in the death of its passenger, Sam the monkey.  I wonder if the Air Force will abandon the pretense of the bio-medical mission and just launch cameras from now on.

So that's that.  I believe there's another Discoverer launch scheduled in a few weeks along with another Vanguard shot.  I'll report on them if and when they happen.  In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this month's Galaxy, and I'll finish up my report on the August issue in two days!

In the meantime, let's hoist a glass to our intrepid, lost rodentnauts.  You deserved better.

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Earth: 0, Space: 3 (Atlas, Discoverer, and Vanguard; 4-16-1959)

It's been an exciting though disappointing week in the world of space exploits.  Here is a summary of what you've missed if you haven't been following the papers:

DISCOVERER 2 SOARS INTO ORBIT; LAYS EGG NO ONE CAN FIND

The Air Force launched another Discoverer on April 13.  After 17 orbits, the satellite ejected a capsule for recovery.  The landing spot was supposed to be around Hawai'i, but a task force of ships and aircraft were unable to find the capsule.  Now, there wasn't anything on board this one, but later shots are supposed to carry biological specimens.  And maybe film for developing.  Oops!  Did I say that out loud?

In any event, no one knows where it landed.  Since Discoverer is in a polar orbit (and still otherwise functioning, to all reports), I suppose the capsule could have fallen anywhere along its trajectory.  If the capsule was ejected too early, it would have hit Antarctica or the South Pacific.  If late, the track crosses Alaska, the Arctic ocean, and down through Scandinavia, the Eastern Bloc nations, and all along central Africa. 

Assuming the latter, its destination could be somewhere in the ice, perhaps a communist station, or next to some frightened zebra.  We may never know.

VANGUARD IS ANOTHER FLOPNIK

The Navy boys tried to launch a sequel to the orbiting but unsuccessful Vanguard 2.  This shot was a two-fer–atop the slim rocket was not only a 10kg ball with a new magnetometer on board (for mapping magnetic fields) but a balloon for tracking air density.

Sadly, the rocket only got up a hundred miles before falling back to Earth.  It's a shame–Von Braun's team is having success after success, but the Vanguard program is stuck in first gear.  Let's hope they can get Vanguard 3 up before the year's end!

MAIDEN LAUNCH FOR NEW ATLAS A BUST

The Atlas is America's first Intercontinental Ballistic Missile (ICBM).  It is being manufactured just a dozen miles from my house at Convair's Kearny Mesa plant.  The first incarnation of the Atlas was test-launched in 1957 with a dummy warhead.  Since then, Atlases have been launched with some regularity from Cape Canaveral, including the December launch of SCORE, which went on the improved Atlas B.  The Atlas C was the last of the prototypes, and it may be used this year for an upcoming Venusian mission.

But the Atlas launched on April 14 was an Atlas D, a more-powerful version designed to be the first operational ICBM, the one they'll bury underground in protective silos to be turned loose on the Soviet Union on a moment's notice. 

Eventually.  The one launched last Tuesday malfunctioned right out of the gate, one of its three engines blasting at reduced capacity.  It limped along for 20 seconds, burst into flames, and was destroyed 17 seconds later by ground control.  And this is the booster that the Mercury astronauts will ride into orbit.  Brave men they!

So, as they say, "All the news that fits, we print!"  See you in two days!



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Lucky Seven! (The Mercury astronauts; 4-09-1959)

The results are in!  NASA has picked its first seven astronauts, dubbed "The Mercury Seven" since they will be flying the new one-man spacecraft when it debuts for piloted missions, perhaps next year.

The newspaper mistakenly described them as "GI"s the other day, but they are, in fact the best of the best American military test pilots from all of the services except the Army.  110 candidates were winnowed to 31, and of them, 24 were sent packing (though I suspect we may see some of them in later astronaut groups). 

The chosen seven are a homogeneous bunch in several ways: white, married with children, mildly Protestant, in their 30's.  But they come from a variety of places and service backgrounds.  In alphabetical order, we have:


The astronauts expressing confidence that they will all come back from space safe and sound; L to R: Slayton, Shepard, Schirra, Grissom, Glenn, Cooper, Carpenter

Navy Lieutenant. Malcolm "Scott" Carpenter: 33, much has been made in the local paper since he is a native, though adopted, son from Garden Grove, California.  His wife registered him for the astronaut program while Scott was at sea.  He has the least flight time of the astronauts, but this is more than compensated by the man's dreaminess quotient.  What a hunk! 

Air Force Captain Leroy "Gordo" Cooper (for those not militarily inclined, this rank is the same grade as Navy Lieutenant): 32 and a Colorado resident.  He's flown the fancy new planes, including the F-102 and F-106B.  Gordo speaks with an Okie drawl, but I understand he's quite a sharp tack.

Marine Lieutenant Colonel John H. Glenn: 37, from Ohio, may have the most impressive credentials.  He flew 59 combat missions in World War 2, more than a hundred in Korea, and he has the highest rank of the candidates.  He's also the most religious, the nicest, and (reportedly) the most abstemious.  I'd put odds on this fellow getting a plum spot in the line-up.

Air Force Captain Virgil I. "Gus" Grissom: 33, from Indiana, is the youngest and shortest of the group, but he has more combat missions under his belt (in Korea) than anyone in the group but Glenn. 

Navy Lieutenant Commander (between the Lieutenants/Captains and Lt. Colonel Glenn in Rank) Walter M. "Wally" Schirra: 36, from New Jersey, he's apparently the prankster of the group.  He comes by his talent honestly, his father having been a stunt pilot and his mother a wing walker!

Navy Lieutenant Commander Alan B. Shepard Jr.: 35, from New Hampshire, has the most flight time but zero combat experience.  He has an intense air about him suggesting he may be a leader type.  He confidently declared that he expected orbital flight would be no more hazardous than testing out a new plane on Earth.

Air Force Captain Donald K. "Deke" Slayton: 35, from Wisconsin, he's got almost as much flight time as Shepard, and World War II combat experience.  He has a smart, no-nonsense look about him.  I suspect he'll get a good mission.  He said he signed up because we'd pretty much finished exploring the Earth, and it was time to pierce the next frontier.


L to R: Grissom, Glenn, Cooper, Carpenter

Unmanned test flights of the Mercury spacecraft, which looks a bit like a thimble, are expected to start in the summer.  The capsules will be launched sub-orbitally first on "Little Joe" test rockets and then Redstones (which were used to launch the first American Explorers

I'm willing to wager that, now that American's first spacemen have been identified, our upcoming science fiction stories will make many and copious references to them, either directly or allusive.  For decades, authors have written how the first men would go into space–now they know for certain who they will be and what they will ride in (that is, unless the Soviets beat us again to the punch…)

See you in a couple of days with news of Fred Pohl's latest novella, really a short novel.  It's excellent.  Until then…

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Kaboom! (Project Argus; 3-26-1959)

This is what happens when you let scientists play with toys.

Apparently, last summer, the Air Force detonated three atomic bombs high above the South Atlantic… just to see what would happen!

That's actually a little too glib.  Dr. N.C. Cristofilos, of the Lawrence Radiation Laboratory, has always wanted to trace the lines of magnetic force that girdle the Earth.  After Sputnik launched in October 1957, he has been hung up on the idea of using satellites to measure the path of charged particles along those lines.  But Dr. Cristofilos was not content to collect data of the natural environment for, as he confided to me, "The creation of artificial effects under controlled conditions is more interesting, as the initial conditions are known and therefore physical quantities can be measured under completely diferent conditions from those which the natural phenomena allow."

Which, translated into layman's speech, means, "We need to detonate three atomic bombs high above the South Atlantic and see what happens!"

The Air Force love their toys, too, and the whole project went from concept to completion in about half a year.  They apparently wanted to get the experiment done lest some pesky nuclear test ban treaty come into being unexpectedly (they needn't have worried). 

In fact, I think the Air Force moved a bit too quickly for a project designed for purely scientific research.  I have heard rumors (without detailing the source for fear of leaking classified information) that the real project aim was to see if, by detonating nukes high in the atmosphere, they might create an artificial barrier against enemy missiles, or at least light them up in flight for easier interception.

I can't tell you if that's the case (I doubt it), but we do have a host of scientific data available.  You see, Explorer IV was launched last summer specifically to observe the effects of Project Argus (as the tests were called).  Of course, they didn't tell the press last July.  I'm frankly amazed that we're being told the truth at all.  Perhaps the whole thing was about to leak, and the government wanted to control the release.

So what did Explorer IV see?  The Argus blasts created their own auroral light along the magnetic lines nearest the bursts.  Electrons charged by the blasts flew along these lines to an apogee of some 4000 miles.  Essentially, the satellite was able to see Earth's magnetic field glow in the dark.  The Argus tests also enabled scientists to venture a guess as to the lifespan of a charged electron, though I haven't head anything definitive yet.

Of course, three tests in one section of the upper atmosphere hardly makes for a definitive data set.  We clearly need more airbursts!  I bet the Air Force is studying plans for several such tests over the Soviet Union, seeing how that nation covers such a large swath of territory that must be just loaded with magnetic lines of force.  I bet we could even get the Russians to pay us for the service–if we did it at night time, we'd be providing lighting for those remote Siberians who lack access to electricity.  Oh, we're such humanitarians!  We should put Edvard Teller, that philanthropist, in charge of the project after he's done using atomic bombs to blast canals (Project Plowshare).

And if your coffee tastes funny, I hear strontium-90 is good for your bones.  Why else would they absorb it preferentially over boring ol' calcium?

Oh dear.  My cynicism is showing again, isn't it?

Back to fiction in two days.  Satellite's got a snazzy new slick-sized format.  But are the stories as impressive?  Stay tuned!

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