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Science / Space Race

[November 4, 1968] A Mysterious Mission (Soyuz-2 and 3)

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by Kaye Dee

Just over a week ago I wrote about the Apollo-7 test flight – America’s successful return to space after the tragedy of the Apollo-1 fire. Just days after Apollo-7’s safe splashdown the Soviet Union also launched its own return-to-flight mission, Soyuz-3. As the Traveller noted in his recent commentary, like Apollo-7, Soyuz-3 represents the recommencement of the Russian manned spaceflight programme following its equally tragic loss of Soyuz-1 last year.

This is reported to be the official Soyuz-3 mission patch. It was apparently intended to be worn by Cosmonaut Beregovoi or at least flown during the mission, however it ia not clear if it was actually used

As readers know, the Soviet space programme is secretive about its activities. Soyuz-3, which was launched on 26 October, has been particularly mysterious for a crewed spaceflight. The mission was preceded by the launch of the un-manned Soyuz-2, although that launch was not announced until after Soyuz-3 was in orbit. What can we make of the little we know so far about this flight, which had a duration of just a little under four days?

New Cosmonaut, New Spacecraft
We know from information released or gleaned at the time of Soyuz-1 that this new Soviet spacecraft is large, capable of carrying at least three cosmonauts – although on this mission, just as with Soyuz-1, there appears to have been only one man aboard, Colonel Georgi Beregovoi.

Although not previously known to be a member of the Soviet cosmonaut team, Col. Beregovoi is a distinguished World War Two veteran, who was awarded the decoration of Hero of the Soviet Union in 1944. After the war he became a test pilot and is said to have joined the cosmonaut team in 1964. At 47, Beregovoi now becomes the oldest person to make a spaceflight, taking the record away from 45-year-old Apollo-7 commander Capt. Wally Schirra only weeks after he achieved it.

The few images of the Soyuz spacecraft available indicate that, unlike the Apollo Command Service Module, it has three sections: a ‘service module’ containing life-support and propulsion systems; and two other modules – one roughly bell-shaped and the other, attached to it, spherical – which both seem to be crew accommodation, given that press releases from the TASS newsagency have described the spacecraft as “two-roomed”.

The bell-shaped section seems to be the part of the spacecraft in which the crew return to Earth, protected by a heatshield. Interestingly, the service module supports a solar panel on either side, which must be folded within the launch shroud and extended once in orbit. The use of solar panels suggests that the USSR does not have the same fuel cell technology as NASA. However, it is also possible that the Soyuz is intended for missions in Earth orbit with an appreciably longer duration than a short trip to the Moon and back, as solar panels would be more efficient than fuel cells for that purpose.

NASA experts assume that, like Apollo-7, Soyuz-3 has been modified and/or re-designed over the past 18 months to address whatever issues have been identified as the cause of the loss of Soyuz-1. It is generally believed that Kosmos-238, which made a four-day flight in August, was an uncrewed Soyuz test flight in advance of the first mission with a crew on board.

How Many on Board?
Speculation and rumours abound as to how many cosmonauts were actually on board Soyuz-3. Official Soviet sources give the name of only one cosmonaut, the aforementioned Col. Beregovoi. However, a report in the armed forces newspaper, Red Star, has caused speculation that more than one cosmonaut may have been intended to be involved in the mission. In referring to the “crew” of Soyuz-3 the article used the plural when it spoke of cosmonauts who were planning to fly with Beregovoi.

Colonel Beregovoi during his training at Star City

Reporting about a meeting at the cosmonaut training centre “Star City” near Moscow, to mark the end of Soyuz-3’s training period, the Red Star article described a speech to the meeting by Colonel Beregovoi then said, “Others followed him. They spoke about the great work they had done and thanked their comrades. These in their turn wished them a happy flight, a good launching and a soft landing”. While this report could be taken to imply that more than one other person was expected to accompany Beregovoi on his flight, it may be that the “others” referred to were the mission’s back-up cosmonauts, since Soviet spaceflights apparently have two back-up crews.

Cosmonaut Beregovoi on the launchpad, apparently alone

An additional vague hint that there might be more than one cosmonaut aboard came Soyuz-3 came from a TASS news agency release referring to Beregovoi as the “commander” of the ship, a term that would seem unnecessary if he was the sole occupant of the spacecraft. Rumours with a more conspiracy-minded flavour have also suggested that one of Col. Beregovoi’s live broadcasts from space was filmed in such a manner that, while an empty seat could be seen on the cosmonaut’s left side, whatever was to his right was not visible, potentially concealing the presence of another crewmember. However, the angle may simply have been the result of a fixed camera, located to give whatever the Soviet mission controllers considered to be the best view of the spacecraft interior.

More than a Rendezvous?
The pre-occupation of Western observers with the possibility that there were other, unidentified cosmonauts on board Soyuz-3 stems from the comparatively basic activities reported as being carried out during the mission. True, the flight is assumed to have been a shakedown test along the same lines as Apollo-7, but the American craft nevertheless flew with a complete crew of three, including a designated Lunar Module pilot, even though a LM was not available for the mission. Yet the large Soyuz has officially flown with only a single crewmember. Does this mean that the Russians were still uncertain about the flightworthiness of the spacecraft and did not want to risk more than one life on the test flight? Or was a more ambitious mission planned that did not eventuate?

Apollo-7 carried out a range of complex manoeuvres and experiments during its test flight, while the only significant activities reported about Soyuz-3 were that it made two rendezvous with the automated Soyuz-2. Yet, an ambitious programme of spacecraft dockings and crew transfers had supposedly been planned for Soyuz-1 had that mission not struck trouble, and since October last year the USSR has apparently perfected the techniques of automated rendezvous and docking through the flights of Kosmos-186-188 and Kosmos-212-213.

Was an actual docking between Soyuz-2 and 3 planned, in addition to the rendezvous manoeuvres, with one or two additional crew members from Soyuz-3 transferring to the automated craft to return from orbit? Did the Soviets keep the presence of additional cosmonauts on Soyuz-3 secret to save face in the event that such a docking and crew transfer failed? Even if Beregovoi was alone in Soyuz-3, was it planned for him to dock with Soyuz-2 to demonstrate that a pilot could accomplish a manual docking, similar to the capabilities demonstrated by the crew of Apollo-7? TASS press releases about the mission were ambiguously worded and extremely light on detail, so – as usual with the Soviet space programme – it may be a very long time before we have answers to these questions.

The Mission as Reported
Although not announced until after the launch of Soyuz-3 (though my friends at the WRE report that it was detected by Western space tracking networks), the automated rendezvous target Soyuz-2 was launched on Friday 25 October, the day before the manned mission. Precision launch timing then placed Soyuz-3 into an orbit within seven and a half miles of its rendezvous target.

According to TASS, during its first orbit, Soyuz-3 “approached’’ to within 656 ft of Soyuz-2 using “an automatic system”, following which Cosmonaut Beregovoi manually effected a closer rendezvous. A second rendezvous was carried out on 27 October. This has puzzled Western space experts, who have said that they could see no immediate reason for such comparatively simple manoeuvres, which do not appear to represent any appreciable advance in Soviet space capabilities.

Soyuz-2 was remotely commanded to return to Earth after just three days. In what was presumably another demonstration of the Soyuz spacecraft’s redesigned landing system, TASS reported that the spacecraft’s re-entry was slowed by parachutes and cushioned “with the use of a soft-landing system at the last stage”.

It is unclear what activities Col. Beregovoi undertook during his final two days in orbit. Official TASS bulletins said only that the cosmonaut was “going ahead with his flight programme”, which apparently included conducting “scientific, technical, medical, and biological experiments and research”. The “research” may possibly have included observations of the Earth for meteorological and intelligence gathering purposes. The cosmonaut also made live television broadcasts from Soyuz-3, during one of which he provided a brief “tour” of the spacecraft interior. In a short, three-minute broadcast, Beregovoi was also shown thumbing through his log-book and adjusting his radio communications cap.

A still from the three-minute brodcast from Soyuz-3 showing Colonel Beregovoi

The flight was repeatedly said to be “proceeding normally”, with the Colonel “feeling fine” and the spaceship “functioning normally”. We did learn that Soyuz-3 moved to a new orbit after Soyuz-2’s de-orbit, and that the cosmonaut’s daily routine included 25 minutes of morning exercise before breakfast, but whatever else the mission may have actually accomplished remains a mystery.

Back to Earth
After almost exactly four days in space, Soyuz-3 returned to Earth, landing safely on the snowy steppes of Kazakhstan near the city of Karaganda. TASS reported that “After his landing, Georgi Beregovoi feels well. Friends and correspondents met him in the area of the landing”. The cosmonaut has since been reported as saying that his landing was so easy he hardly felt the impact at all.

Following his safe return, Col. Beregovoi was flown to Moscow, where he received a red-carpet welcome, an instant promotion to Major-General and the award of the Order of Lenin. At the ceremony, the Soviet party leader, Mr Brezhnev, devoted most of his 15-minute speech to praise of the Soviet manned space programme, describing Soyuz-3 as a “complete success”. He said that the mission had brought nearer the day when “Man will not be the guest but the host of space”. He also offered a word of praise to the Apollo-7 astronauts, referring to them as “courageous”. 

A Step on the Way to the Moon?
So, what was the purpose of the Soyuz-3 mission? Dr. Welsh’s recently-mentioned comment that Soyuz and Zond spacecraft are different vehicles and that the Russians are not yet ready to attempt a lunar mission, seems to be borne out by statements from Soviet academician and aerospace scientist, Prof. Leonid Sedov, during a visit to the University of Tennessee Space Institute on 31 October-1 November. Prof. Sedov has said that the USSR would reach Moon from a space station in Earth orbit but would not conduct manned lunar space operations within the next six months. He indicated that Zond-type satellites would circumnavigate other planets and return and told the university audience that Soyuz-3 was part of a “programme to develop operations around the Earth”.

Prof. Sedov on an earlier visit to the United States in 1961 at the time of the USSR's first manned spaceflight

Mastering the techniques of rendezvous and docking would certainly be necessary to establish the orbiting space station from which a Soviet Moon mission would be launched, but Sedov’s comments leave unanswered the question of why a docking between Soyuz-2 and 3 was not attempted during the mission – unless an attempted docking did fail.

Awards All Round
Despite their testiness during the flight, the overall success of the Apollo-7 mission has been recognised by the presentation of NASA’s second highest award, the Exceptional Service Medal, to the crew at a ceremony in Texas on 2 November, presided over by President Johnson. During the ceremony, the President said the United States was “ready to take that first great step out into the Solar System and on to the surface of the nearest of the many mysterious worlds that surround us in space.” He noted that Apollo-7 had logged more than 780 man-hours in space, which is more than has been logged “in all Soviet manned flights to date”.

Left: Former NASA Administrator James Webb speaking at the Apollo-7 awards event, at which he also received NASA's highest award. Right: After the formal ceremony, President Johnson (second from left) chats with Apollo 7 astronauts Schirra, Eisele and Cunningham.

At the same ceremony, President Johnson presented the NASA Distinguished Service Medal, the space agency’s highest award, to recently-retired NASA Administrator James E. Webb, for his outstanding leadership of NASA from 1961-1968. 

NASA has also recently indicated that it will make a decision on the plans for the Apollo-8 mission on 11 November. The space agency has listed the alternatives for the December mission as: an Earth orbital mission deeper into space; a circumlunar fly-by; or a lunar orbit mission. These are all exciting prospects, but I'm hoping that NASA will choose the boldest option and go for a lunar orbit mission. To have human eyes see the Earth from the Moon for the very first time would be a Christmas present indeed!

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Science / Space Race

[October 26, 1968] Phoenix from the Ashes (Apollo-7)

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by Kaye Dee

In early October Wernher von Braun said that he was “beginning to doubt” America's ability to land an astronaut on the Moon before the Russians, following the Soviet success with its automated Zond-5 mission. But speaking just a few days ago, General Sam Phillips, the Apollo Programme Manager, has described the recently completed Apollo-7 flight as “a perfect mission. We accomplished 101 percent of our objectives”. With both the United States and the Soviet Union finally back in space following the tragedies that struck their respective space programmes in 1967 (an article on Soyuz-2 and 3 is coming soon), NASA has risen from the ashes of the Apollo-1 fire and is once again on track to achieve its manned lunar landing goals.


A Critical Test Flight
Possibly no NASA mission has been more critical to the future of US spaceflight than Apollo-7. The main purpose of the mission has been to prove that the new Block II Apollo spacecraft, extensively redesigned after the Apollo-1 fire, is capable of performing the 480,000-mile round trip to the Moon. If Apollo-7 did not establish the overall safety and performance of the new CM design, von Braun’s pessimism would probably be proved right!

The four critical mission objectives were:

  • test the spacecraft’s navigation and guidance systems in the performance of an orbital rendezvous;
  • prove the Service Propulsion System (SPS) engine’s performance and reliability;
  • demonstrate the safety of the redesigned Command Module (CM) and the performance of its life support systems over the duration of a lunar mission; and,
  • carry out a precise re-entry and splashdown.


The Apollo-7 crew. L – R: LM Pilot Walter Cunningham, CM Pilot Maj. Donn Eisele and mission commnader Capt. Wally Schirra. They were rarin' to go!

The First Team
With a lot riding on their shoulders, the crew of the first successful manned Apollo mission unusually combined a seasoned veteran astronaut with two rookies. Originally the back-up crew for Apollo-1, the three astronauts of Apollo-7 all have US Navy connections.

Mission commander Navy Captain Walter (Wally) Schirra, 45, is the oldest man to make a spaceflight so far. One of the original Mercury astronauts (MA-8 Sigma-7, 1962), he was also the Command Pilot for the Gemini-6 mission in 1965. Apollo-7 makes Schirra the first astronaut to fly all three types of US manned spacecraft. Rumour has it that Capt. Schirra was not particularly interested in making a third spaceflight prior to the loss of Apollo 1 but stepped up to the challenge of ensuring that Apollo-7 was a success in honour of his lost friend, Apollo-1 Commander Gus Grissom. This seems to be borne out by the fact that he announced his intention to resign from NASA two weeks before the launch of his flight.

Apollo-7’s two rookie astronauts both come from Group 3, selected in 1963. 38-year-old Major Donn Eisele (USAF), designated Command Module Pilot, graduated from the US Naval Academy but was commissioned in the Air Force. Originally slated as a member of the Apollo-1 crew, he was switched to the back-up team due to a shoulder injury. Major Eisele has specialised in the CM’s new digital guidance and navigation computer, which is vital for conducting rendezvous during lunar missions.

Mr. Walter Cunninham, 36, is a civilian scientist with a military background. Nominally the Lunar Module Pilot (even though Apollo 7 did not carry a LM), he assumed the role of the crew’s general systems expert on this flight. With a Master’s degree in physics, Mr. Cunnigham spent three years as a physicist at the RAND Corporation before becoming an astronaut, but he is also a former Marine pilot who saw service in Korea and currently a Major in the Marine Corps reserves.

Symbolising a Test Flight
Apollo-7’s mission patch was designed by North American Rockwell artist Allen Stevens, who also created the Apollo-1 patch. Its similar design to the earlier patch depicts an Apollo Command Service Module (CSM) circling the globe trailing a tail of orange flame – a reference to the test firings of the CSM’s SPS engine. The navy-blue background symbolises the depths of space: it’s also a nod to the Navy background of the crew. Centred in the design, North and South America are flanked by blue oceans, with a Roman numeral VII appearing in the Pacific Ocean region. The crew’s names appear around the patch’s lower rim. 

Although refused permission by NASA, Capt. Schirra apparently wanted to name his ship “Phoenix”. I can’t help wondering what mission patch design we would have seen had the name been allowed. We do know, however, what the patch would have looked like (as envisioned by the daughter of backup Commander Tom Stafford) if Eisele's whimsical name "Rub-a-dub-dub" had been adopted…

 

A Safer Spacecraft
Apollo-1’s CM was a Block I type, designed for Earth orbital missions, while Apollo-7 has been a shakedown test for the redeveloped Block II Command Module specifically designed for lunar voyages and able to dock with a Lunar Module (LM). Following the fire, the Block II CM was significantly redesigned to reduce or eliminate fire hazards (especially the use of flammable materials) and increase astronaut safety: many of these modifications, particularly a fully-redesigned quick-opening crew hatch for emergency escape from the spacecraft, were tested on the unmanned Apollo-4 and 6 flights. Emergency breathing masks and a fire extinguisher were also added to the cabin.

Experiments with starting fires in the redesigned cabin have also led to another crew safety enhancement: NASA now uses a 60/40 oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere in the CM during launch, before switching to a lower pressure pure oxygen inflight environment about four hours after lift-off. The astronauts’ spacesuits, and their new casual flight suits, have also been redeveloped using fire retardant materials. 

Luxury Accommodation
Compared to NASA’s previous Mercury and Gemini spacecraft, the Apollo CM is a luxury suite, its greater interior volume allowing the crew to move around freely in zero gravity. Beneath the flight couches, where the crew sit for launch and re-entry, there is room for “sleeping quarters”, where two astronauts can zip themselves into sleeping bags underneath their flight seats to keep from floating around.

With ample water provided by its fuel cells, and new food preparation and packaging techniques, the Block II spacecraft finally gives NASA’s astronauts the opportunity to enjoy hot meals! The CM provides both hot and cold water dispensers to rehydrate food packages. Capt. Schirra, a coffee lover, enjoyed his first pouch of inflight instant brew just five hours after launch!

The expanded Apollo flight menu now offers some 60 different food choices, not all of which are dehydrated. Thermostabilisng techniques allow some foods, like frankfurters, to be eaten in their natural state, while small slices of bread, covered in a coating to prevent them crumbling, can now be enjoyed – although judging by the Apollo-7 crew’s complaints about crumbly food, this may not have been entirely successful.

Some of the new bite-size, possibly crumbly, foods available to Apollo astronauts

Bending the Rules
On 11 October (US time), almost four years to the day after the launch of the three-man Voskhod-1 spacecraft, Apollo-7 lifted off from Cape Kennedy Air Force Station's Launch Complex 34 on its crucial test flight. Since the LM is still not ready for spaceflight, and so could not be tested during this mission, a Saturn 1B lofted the mission into orbit.

High-altitude winds threatened to scrub the lift-off, as a post-launch abort might have seen the CM blown back over land, instead of splashing down in the ocean, potentially exposing the crew to serious injury. Mission commander Schirra disagreed with the decision by NASA managers to waive the wind restriction, but finally yielded. However, his unhappiness over this issue may have contributed to his further disputes with Mission Control during the flight.

Despite Schirra reporting the ride to space as “a little bumpy” a few minutes into the flight, ten minutes and 27 seconds after liftoff Apollo-7 was smoothly inserted into its elliptical low Earth orbit.

Coming Together
Rendezvous and docking practice, demonstrating that the CM’s navigation and guidance systems could successfully handle this vital technique for lunar missions, was a major element of the Apollo-7 flight plan, and the first major exercise began within three hours after launch.

Although Apollo 7 was not carrying a Lunar Module, the Spacecraft-LM adapter (SLA) that would normally house one was mounted on top of the Saturn 1B’s S-IVB second stage, carried into orbit to be used as a rendezvous target.

With the S-IVB still attached to the CSM, the astronauts manoeuvred as if conducting the necessary engine burn for Trans Lunar Injection. After separation from the S-IVB, Schirra put his Gemini rendezvous experience to good use, manoeuvring Apollo-7 towards the rocket stage and closing in as if to dock. This simulated the manoeuvre needed to extract the LM from the SLA. He then flew in formation with the stage for 20 minutes, before moving about 76 miles away to prepare for the first practice rendezvous. 

Apollo-7's S-IVB stage, with the SLA petals open to reveal the docking target. The target was designed by Royal Australian Air Force opthalmologist, Dr. John Colvin. (note that one of the petals did not quite open all the way, restricting some of the possible maneuvers)

Power and Precision
The initial rendezvous exercise, occurring about 30 hours after launch, included the first inflight test of the Service Module’s powerful Service Propulsion System engine. Although tested on the ground, the SPS had never yet been fired in space, despite being vital to the success of a lunar mission: its 20,000 pounds of thrust is needed to slow the Apollo spacecraft into orbit around the Moon and propel it on its way back to the Earth. The SPS has to be totally reliable – it must work, every time.

The purpose of the rendezvous itself was to demonstrate the CSM’s ability to match orbits with a LM returning from the lunar surface, or an aborted landing attempt, even without an operating onboard radar (which Apollo-7 lacked, though later missions will have one). The SPS rendezvous burns were computed at Mission Control, but the final manoeuvres to close on the S-IVB saw Major Eisele making observations with the CM’s telescope and sextant to compute the final burns using the onboard guidance computer.

When the SPS engine ignited for the first time, Eisele was apparently startled by its violent jolt, while Schirra yelled excitedly “Yabba Dabba Do! – That was a ride and a half!” The inaugural nine-second burn went perfectly, and Schirra completed the rendezvous using the ship's reaction control system (RCS) thrusters, bringing Apollo-7 to within 70 feet of its tumbling target. The exercise successfully demonstrated that, even without radar data, an Apollo Command Module pilot could effect a rendezvous in lunar orbit.

A (Mostly) Smooth Mission
For the most part, Apollo -7 could be described as a “smooth” mission, with few real technical problems. The flight plan was “front-loaded”, with the most important experiments and activities scheduled for the early part of the mission, in case problems forced an early return to Earth. By day five of the mission, Flight Director Glynn Lunney estimated that the astronauts had already accomplished 70 to 75 percent of the planned test objectives.

The SPS engine was fired eight times in total, working perfectly every time and proving its reliability. The crew tested the fuel cells and battery chargers and checked out the cooling capacity of the thermal control system, putting the CSM into “barbecue mode,” rolling slowly around its long axis to distribute the heat load evenly over the spacecraft skin. Major Eisele thoroughly tested the sextant, telescope and guidance computer: even when vented, frozen urine crystals obscured his star targets, he proved that the optical instruments could provide sightings accurate enough to steer a spacecraft to and from the Moon.

It obviously wasn't easy for Maj. Eisele to take star sightings during the rendezvous exercise!

But the mission did experience a few technical issues. A power failure briefly struck Mission Control abut 80 minutes after launch. A mysterious “fuzz” or fog partially obscured the spacecraft’s windows, blurring the external view, although it gradually eased as the mission progressed, enabling photographic observations of the Earth (there are early indications that this may have been due to window seals outgassing). Perhaps the most annoying problem was the difficulty of using the crew’s “solid waste disposal system” – bags taped to an astronaut’s buttocks into which he excreted. The process proved to be very messy and rather smelly! 

Despite issues with window fogging, the Apollo-7 crew has returned impressive images like these, showing the Gulf of Mexico (top) and Hurricane Gladys (bottom)

Grumpy Astronauts
About 15 hours into the flight, Schirra reported that he was experiencing a head cold. Unfortunately for him, a cold in space quickly becomes a miserable experience, because congested sinuses don’t drain in weightlessness. Cunningham and Eisele also developed stuffy noses and dry nostrils, but as they experienced colds a few days before the flight, flight surgeons believe that their condition may have been due more to breathing pure oxygen for long periods.

An astronaut with a head cold is not a happy man!

Despite the use of aspirin and decongestant tablets, the cold made Schirra tired and irritable and prone to sharp exchanges with Mission Control. When Houston suggested early in the mission to add some new engineering tests into the already busy flight plan and power up the TV system ahead of schedule to check the circuits, the mission commander testily refused, citing scheduling pressures and the need for the crew to eat. Over the first few days, Schirra repeatedly delayed the scheduled public television broadcasts, considering them non-essential.

Throughout the flight, the crew had difficulty sleeping, particularly as NASA insisted that at least one astronaut was always on duty to monitor the new spacecraft’s systems during the crucial test flight. Lack of sleep and exhaustion from working long hours on a packed flight plan undoubtedly contributed to the crew’s irritability throughout the mission.

Are You a Turtle?
Capt. Schirra has a reputation for playing practical jokes and "gotchas" and decided at one point to take out his frustrations on fellow astronaut and Director of Flight Crew Operations Deke Slayton. Both men are members of a private club, which has a joking requirement that if one member asks another "Are you a turtle?" the person so asked must immediately respond with a specific vulgar reply, or else buy drinks for everyone who heard the question.

Slayton had tried to catch Schirra out during his Mercury flight by publicly asking on an open communication if Schirra was a turtle. The Apollo-7 commander decided to "return the favour" during this mission by mischievously holding up a card during the second television broadcast from the spacecraft that said "Deke Slayton, are you a turtle?" Slayton avoided giving the rude answer in a public broadcast by recording it to be played to the crew after the mission.

The Mission Commander is in Command!
Perhaps the most serious disagreement between Schirra and Mission Control arose over the issue of whether or not the astronauts would wear their space helmets during re-entry. During the descent from orbit, cabin pressure rises from 5.9 to 14.7 psi (sea level pressure). Still suffering from his head cold Capt. Schirra apparently feared a sealed helmet would prevent him from pinching his nostrils to equalise the pressure, possibly leading to a ruptured eardrum. Although helmets protect the astronauts from cabin depressurisation and landing impact forces, Schirra stood on his right to make a decision as the mission commander and insisted that the crew would not wear their helmets for re-entry.

The discussion between Apollo-7 and the ground became quite heated on this point. Although Mission Control finally acquiesced to Schirra’s decision, comments suggest that they were exasperated and surprised by the astronauts’ testiness throughout the mission, which was definitely a departure from the usual respectful communications between space and the ground. While Capt. Schirra may have been prepared to speak his mind and have his way because he has already decided to leave NASA and has nothing to lose, I wonder if the clashes between the crew and Mission Control will impact upon the careers of Major Eisele and Mr. Cunningham?

“From the Lovely Apollo Room”
Despite Schirra’s early refusal to conduct television tests, the crew became TV stars when the first live television broadcast from an American spacecraft finally occurred on 14 October. Technical limitations with the television system meant that the live broadcast was restricted to the United States, but the audience was reportedly treated to a lively piece of entertainment, with Cunningham as camera operator and Eisele as MC.

Drawing from an old radio tagline, the “Apollo-7 Show” opened with a card reading “From the lovely Apollo Room high atop everything”. The seven-minute broadcast treated viewers to a look inside the spacecraft and showed views of Lake Pontchartrain and New Orleans, before closing with Schirra holding up another sign reading “Keep those cards and letters coming in folks”, another radio tag line re-popularised by Dean Martin.

For the rest of the mission, daily television broadcasts of about 10 minutes each took place, with the crew holding up more fun signs and describing how the Apollo spacecraft worked. Since the broadcasts seem to have been very popular with audiences in America, I wonder if television’s newest stars might find themselves in line for an Emmy Award next year? 

Back to Earth
Without the crew wearing helmets, Apollo 7 made a successful re-entry on 22 October splashing down about 200 nautical miles SSW of Bermuda, with a mission duration of 10 days, 20 hours, 9 minutes and 3 seconds. The conical CM landed upside down in the water, although it was soon righted with the use of floatation bags. However, the inverted position apparently interfered with communications, giving Mission Control an agonising 10-minute wait for contact to be established by search helicopters and aircraft.

The astronauts’ arrival by helicopter on the recovery ship USS Essex was carried live to the world on television, relayed via satellite – although we here in Australia were not able to see most of the broadcast due to technical difficulties. Despite the issues with colds and stuffy noses, the crew experienced no trouble during re-entry and are said to be generally in good health. They are now back in Houston, facing three weeks of technical debriefings and medical tests.

While the disagreements between the crew and Mission Control may have cast a shadow, Apollo-7 is being hailed as a technical triumph, with the mission successfully verifying the flightworthiness of the redesigned Command Module and SPS engine.

What comes next?
Even before Apollo-7 launched, Apollo Spacecraft Manager George Low proposed that, with the delays in the construction of the LM, Apollo-8 should be a manned circumlunar flight, to build programme momentum and pre-empt a possible similar mission by the USSR. This mission prospect was being openly discussed while Apollo-7 was in orbit. With its safe and successful return, let’s hope a decision will be made very soon on this ambitious and exciting next step in space exploration: Apollo-8 is already on the pad!

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Science / Space Race

[August 26, 1968] No time for a breath (Summer space round-up)

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by Gideon Marcus

There are some months where the space shots come so quickly that there's scarcely time to apprehend them all, much less report on them!  Every other day, it seems, the newspaper has got a headling about this launch or that discovery, and that's before you get to the announcements about the impending moon missions.

So, in rapid-fire style, let's see how many exciting new missions I can tell you about on a single exhale (while you stand on one leg, no less…that's a Jewish joke).

A Pair of Yankee Explorers

On August 8th, a Scout rocket took off from Vandenberg Air Force Base (the Western Test Range) in Southern California carrying the two latest NASA science satellites.  It was a virtual duplicate of the launch nearly four years ago of Explorers 24 and 25: a balloon for measuring air density in the upper atmosphere, and a more conventional satellite with an array of instruments for surveying the Earth's ionosphere.  Affectionately dubbed "Mutt and Jeff", these two craft were sent into polar orbit (hence the Pacific launch site).  If you're wondering why NASA is repeating itself, that's because the sun has a profound effect on the Earth's atmosphere.  It is important to measure its impact throughout the 11 year solar cycle, from minimum to maximum output, to better understand the relationship between the solar wind and the air's upper layers.

Not much can go wrong with a balloon, but Explorer 40, after deploying its spindly experiment arms, suffered a malfunction.  Its solar panels are not delivering as much power as they should.  NASA is confident, however, that this will not compromise the mission, which is planned to last more than a year.

Alphabet Soup

Time was, we gave proper names to our satellites.  Now it's all acronyms and arcane jumbles of letters and numbers.  That's all right.  I can decipher them for you!

Advanced Technology Satellite (ATS) 4

August 10 marked the launch of "Daddy Longlegs" ATS 4, the fourth of seven satellites in this series.

Some of you may remember ATS-1–you may recall that ATS-1 helped relay the first worldwide "Our World" broadcast last year. 

ATS-1 is actually still working, just like its two siblings.  ATS-2, launched April 5, 1967 was judged a failure since the second stage of its carrier rocket malfunctioned, stranding it in an eccentric orbit.  Still, the several science experiments onboard have returned information on cosmic rays and such in space.  ATS-3, which went up November 5, 1967, was the last to ride an Atlas Agena D rocket.  Armed with a panoply of experiments, including two transceivers, two cameras, and a host of radiation detectors, that satellite worked perfectly, returning the first color picture of the entire Earth!

ATS-4, unlike its predecessors, is a strictly practical spacecraft, carrying no science experiments, but makes up for it in engineering marvels.  One is a a day-night Image Orthicon Camera, a teevee transmitter that would provide continuous color coverage of the world from high up in geosynchronous orbit (i.e. orbiting at the same rate as the Earth turns, keeping it more or less stationary with respect to the ground).  Another is a microwave transmitter, turning ATS into a powerful communications satellite like its progenitor

ATS-4 also was to test out a gravity gradient stabilization system, basically using the subtle gradations of the Earth's pull on the satellite's arms to keep it oriented in orbit.  Finally, ATS-4 has an ion engine aboard.  These drives, perfect for space, work by shooting out Cesium electrons.  They are incredibly economical compared to conventional rockets, but their thrust is quite low, meaning they must be fired continuously to have an appreciable effect on velocity.

Sadly, as with ATS-2, ATS-4's Atlas Centaur failed on the second stage, stranding the satellite in a low, largely useless orbit.  Well, I guess that's why you launch lots of them!

ESSA 7

We haven't given the ESSA series of satellites much love, which I suppose is what happens when a technology stops being novel and instead becomes routine, even essential.  After all, who reports on every airplane that takes off anymore?

But it's worth talking about the latest satellite, ESSA 7, launched August 16, to summarize what the system has done for us over the last several years.

There were eleven satellites in the TIROS series of weather craft, the first launched in 1960.  In February 1966, with the launch of ESSA 1, the Environmental Science Services Administration (ESSA) took over the cartwheel satellites, making the series officially operational.

All of them have worked perfectly, launched into sun-synchronous polar orbits about 900 miles up that circle the Earth from north to south as the planet rotates eastward beneath.  So perfect is ESSA 7's orbit that it will cross the equator at virtually the same time every day, drifting from that time table by only four minutes every year.

ESSA satellites have returned 3000 warnings of hurricanes, typhoons, and cyclones, reporting not just on the existence but the intensity of these dangerous storms.  As of May 27 of this year, ESSA satellites had taken a million photos of the Earth's weather–that's $42 per picture, since the total launch cost of an ESSA is $6 million.


An image of Tropical Storm Shirley taken August 19, 1968

Up in the Kosmos

If we had to cover the launch of every Kosmos (Cosmos) satellite out of the Soviet Union, we'd have to go to a daily schedule.  There's such a thing as too much of a good thing, right?

But the Russkies are putting them up on the average of one a week, so it's worth sampling them occasionally to keep tabs on all the stuff they're putting in orbit.  Especially since the Kosmos is a catch-all designator, even more broad than our Explorer series.  It includes military satellites, science satellites, weather satellites, even automatic tests of the Soyuz spacecraft.

Here's a brief outline of the launches this last month:

Kosmos 230

This is a typical Soviet launch press release:

The Soviet Union launched another Cosmos satellite today and the Sputnik was reported functioning normally, Tass, the official Soviet news agency, said.  The device, Cosmos 230, is sending information to a Soviet research center for evaluation.

We know it was launched July 5 into a 48.5 degree inclined orbit, that it soars between 181 and 362 miles above the Earth, and that it's still in orbit as we speak, circling the Earth every 92.8 minutes.

As for what it's for… well, your guess is as good as mine.  That said, it's probably not a spy satellite.  How do I know?  Read on, and I'll show you what a spy sat looks like so you can spot them yourself!

Kosmos 231

The Soviet Union has launched another satellite in its program of exploring outer space, the official Tass news agency said Thursday.  It said Cosmos 231 was launched Wednesday [July 10] and is functioning normally.  The latest Cosmos is orbiting the earth once every 89.7 minutes in a low orbit from 130 miles to 205 miles.  Its angle to the earth was 65 degrees.

Seems innocuous enough, right?  Doesn't tell you anything more than the other one.  Except…

First tip-off: the angle.  A zero degree angle would be along the equator, never leaving 0 degrees latitude.  A 90 degree angle is polar, heading due north and south.  The lower the angle, the narrower a band of the Earth a satellite covers.

A 65 degree angle is sufficient to cover a wide swathe…including all of the continental United States.

The altitude is quite low, too.  The closer, the better–if you want to look at something from orbit.

But the real kicker is this: the spacecraft reentered on July 18, just eight days after launch.  Normally, when you send a science satellite up, you want it to stay in orbit as long as possible to get more back for your buck…er…ruble.  You only deorbit a spacecraft (and make no mistake–Kosmos 231 had to have been deorbited; its orbit wasn't that low) when there's something onboard you want to get back.  Like a person…or film.

We know there wasn't anyone onboard Kosmos 231.  The Soviets would have told us.  By the way, I'm not the only one who thinks the Kosmos was a spy satellite, taking pictures in orbit and then landing the film for processing.  There's a blurb in the July 15th issue of Aviation Weekly and Space Report which says the same thing.  And they reached that conclusion before the craft even landed, just based on the orbit!

By the way, if you're wondering what the Soviet spy satellites look like, we actually have a better idea of theirs than ours!  We're pretty sure they're based on the Vostok space capsules used to carry cosmonauts.  In fact, it's an open question whether or not the spy sat was evolved from the Vostok or the other way around!

Kosmos 232

Launched July 16, its orbital parameters were as follows: 125 to 220 miles in altitude, 89.8 minute orbit, 65 degree inclination.  The newspaper article I read noted that the satellite's path was a common one, and predicted the satellite would be recovered in eight days.

Sure enough, it was on the ground again on July 24.

Sound familiar?

Kosmos 233

Here's another oddball: launched on the 18th, the Soviets didn't release news of its orbiting until at least the 20th.  It's in a near polar orbit, soaring up to 935 miles, grazing the Earth with a perigee of 124 miles.

That's no spy sat.  In fact, I'd guess this one might be a bonafide science satellite, exploring the Earth's Van Allen Belts.  But it could just as easily be the equivalent of our Transit navigational satellites or something.  We won't know until and unless the Communists publish scientific results.

Kosmos 234

Launched July 30, it soared from 130 to 183 miles up with a period of 89.5 minutes and an inclination of 51.8 degrees.  Low orbit?  Check.  Cryptic announcement describing its purpose as "the continued exploration of outer space"?  Check.  But the inclination's a bit low.  Better wait for more information.

Oh wait.  It landed August 5.  Pretty sure we know what this one was!

Kosmos 235

Up August 9, down August 17.  Orbit went from 126 to 176 miles, period was 89.3 minutes, and the inclination was exactly the same as before–51.8 degrees.

I'm not sure the significance of the different inclinations.  Maybe it's a matter of the rocket or the launch location.  Generally, the higher the inclination, the more expensive the shot in terms of fuel since the rocket doesn't get the extra boost of the Earth's rotation.

Operator?

It's been a while since we covered the Molniya communications satellites, one of the few Soviet series we do know something about.  July 5 marked the launch of the ninth comsat in the series, zooming up to a high, not quite geosynchronous, orbit, where it has a nice vantage of the whole of Asia.

This launch comes less than three months after the orbiting of Molniya H, the eighth in the series.  Whether Molniya I is replacing its predecessor, which may have been faulty, or whether the ninth Molniya is simply acting as a backup, is not certain.  The latter seems unlikely, though.  When Molniya G went up just three weeks after Molniya F, it was widely believed that the Russians had sent up two to make sure they could televise their annual November Moscow parade to the other Communist countries.

That's all folks!

That's the big news for this month.  The rest of the year is going to be really exciting, what with the upcoming launch of Apollo 7 and Zond 5.  We're about to enter a new phase of manned lunar exploration.  That said, we promise to keep covering the significant shots closer to home, too.  For us, all space missions are out of this world!


The prime crew for Apollo 7 (l-r) Astronauts Donn F. Eisele, Command Module Pilot; Walter Cunningham, Lunar Module Pilot; and Walter M. Schirra, Jr., Commander




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Science / Space Race

[July 16, 1968] Hitching a Ride to Orbit (Orbiting Vehicle Satellite Series)

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by Kaye Dee

The continuing hiatus in American and Soviet manned spaceflight and the present lack of unmanned lunar and interplanetary missions, has been a blessing as well as a disappointment. It's given us an opportunity to focus on some lesser-known US and USSR space programmes that are quietly going about their business largely unreported. One such is the US Air Force’s Orbiting Vehicle programme, which saw its most recent launch just a few days ago. While the Traveller has previously taken a look at some early OV1 series missions, the whole thing is worth looking at–it's really quite exciting!

Hitching a Ride on an ICBM
When the Air Force Office of Aerospace Research (OAR) was looking for a means to conduct space experiments at the lowest possible cost, it conceived the idea of using small satellites of a standardised design, launched as secondary payloads piggybacking on Atlas ICBMs being flown for missile technology development. After all, Atlas vehicles have been used to launch satellites as far back as 1958 (Project SCORE), as well as launching all the orbital missions of NASA’s Mercury programme.

This concept led to the development of Orbiting Vehicle (OV) programme, initially created in the early 1960s under the name SATAR (SATellite for Atmospheric Research). SATAR was an extension of the "Scientific Passenger Pods" (SPP) flown as external payloads on suborbital Atlas missile tests to conduct scientific experiments during their brief time in space. In its original form, SATAR was to use a larger version of the SPP, called the Atlas Retained Structure (ARS), that would carry a small satellite with its own propulsion system. When the Atlas missile reached its apogee, the satellite would be deployed from the ARS, using its propulsion system for orbital insertion.

Renamed the Orbiting Vehicle programme around 1963, this project now includes five separate series of standardised satellites, designated OV1 through OV5, each designed for a specific research goal.

OV1-3 launches in a side pod on an Atlas missile ABRES test flight

Launching OV1
The first series of OV satellites – which has seen the greatest number of launches to date – is OV1, developed by the Convair Division of General Dynamics, which also produces the Atlas vehicle. Initially, OV1 satellites were going to be launched on Atlas missiles testing nosecones for the Advanced Ballistic Re-Entry System (ABRES). However, only OV1-1 and OV1-3 ever flew piggyback on an ABRES mission, mounted in pods on the side of the missile. Both satellites were, unfortunately, unsuccessful.

View of the OV1-2 launch showing the twin top-mounted pods. Although there were two pods, only a single satellite was launched on this flight

The other OV1 missions so far have been launched on dedicated Atlas D and F boosters (retired from the ICBM programme) purchased by the OAR for the OV1 series. These flights use two modified SPP pods mounted side-by-side on top of the Atlas, enabling two satellites to be launched on each OV1 flight. The only exceptions to date have been OV1-6, which flew on the Manned Orbiting Laboratory test flight on 2 November 1966, and OV1-86, carried in a side-mounted pod on the same launch that lofted OV1-11 and OV1-12.

Small but Versatile
Using a standardised satellite design has enabled experiments to move rapidly from proposal to launch, the process taking just fifteen months on average. The operational design of the multi-purpose OV1 spacecraft is a cylinder 4 ft 6.6 in long and 2 ft 3 in in diameter, with a cap on both ends covered with 5000 solar cells producing 22 Watts of power. The satellite is attached to a discardable propulsion module using an Altair 2 solid-fuelled motor for orbital insertion. It has two 1 ft 6 in antennae for command and telemetry, with attitude control provided by hydrogen peroxide thrusters. The use of a Sun sensor to determine the spacecraft's orientation to the Sun commenced with OV1-7, while OV1-13 and OV1-14 introduced advanced digital telemetry, which has improved the data return from the satellites. OV1-1 undergoing a balance test prior to launch

Since the launch of OV1-1, on 21 January(GMT) 1965, 17 OV1 series satellites have so far been launched, with more apparently on the way. Only five have failed in some way. The basic purpose of this series is research into fundamental properties of the upper atmosphere and the space environment. This has meant that, unlike the experiments and results from most USAF satellites (and other OV series), which remain classified, the details of OV1 experiments have been published. But will we ever find out how closely the OV1 missions are related to the classified programs?

OV1 Highlights
Notable missions of the OV1 series so far have included OV1-4, launched 30 March (GMT) 1966, which carried three Tissue Equivalent Ionization Chambers, similar to one flown on Gemini 4, NASA’s first spacewalk mission. This data has helped to quantify the radiation hazard that astronauts face on long-duration missions in orbit.

OV1-6, launched on a Titan IIIC with the Manned Orbiting Laboratory test flight in November 1966, uniquely carried several inflatable balloons. Once ejected into orbit, they served as optical targets for ground-based observations, apparently to determine the value of inflatable decoys in confusing anti-missile systems.

PasComSat , or OV1-8, was launched on 14 July (GMT) 1966 and used for passive communications tests, designed to compare the advantages of a grid-sphere satellite against a balloon similar to the Echo series. Its non-standard design comprised a 30ft diameter open spherical grid of soft aluminium wires embedded in an inflatable plastic balloon. The entire satellite, with its unique propulsion module, weighed just 23lb. The satellite’s structure was also intended to demonstrate the feasibility of erecting an open grid structure in space, as the polybutyl methacrylate plastic of the balloon was designed to break down after a few days under the sun's strong ultraviolet rays, leaving the open aluminium structure in orbit. Tests indicate that the grid-satellite will remain in orbit for at least 11 years and have measured its reflective power as five times greater than that of a solid sphere.

OV1-9, launched in December 1966, carried a number of radiation experiments and was still aloft in late May 1967, during an intense period of solar and magnetic activity. Its data proved the existence of the Earth's electric field, which had long been theorised. OV1-10, OV1-9’s launch twin, returned the most comprehensive set of solar X-ray observations to date and also carried a cosmic ray telescope.

A unique “triple launch” took place on 27 July (GMT) 1967, with OV1-86 flying in a side-mounted pod and OV1-11 and OV1-12 positioned on top of the Atlas D launch vehicle. OV1-86 was an opportunistic mission composed of the unused satellite body originally intended as OV1-8, coupled with the unused OV1-6 propulsion module, which was not required for its Titan IIIC launch. The satellite carried a cosmic ray telescope, as well as equipment measuring the temperature radiation properties of different types of Earth terrain, mapping the Earth in the near-infrared spectrum. Although OV1-11 failed to orbit, OV1-12 carried the Flare Activated Radio-biological Observatory, equipped with a suite of eleven experiments to study the radiation hazard from solar flares.

The first Atlas F launch of the OV1 series placed OV1-13 and OV1-14 in orbit on 6 April (GMT) 1968. Both satellites were designed to focus on measuring radiation in space, although OV-14 ceased operating after one week in service. OV1-13 recently measured increases in the energy and intensity of electrons during a geomagnetic storm that took place 10 June 1968, and it is hoped that its data will shed light on how the particle flow caused by solar storms creates these high altitude increases. OV1-14


Spades and Cannonballs
The most recent OV1 launch took place on 11 July, carrying both a standard satellite and the second non-standard spacecraft in this series. OV1-15 has a suite of experiments developed by The Aerospace Corporation designed to study the response of the upper atmosphere to solar and magnetospheric disturbances. It is hoped that the Solar Perturbation of Atmospheric Density Experiments Satellite (SPADES) group of complementary experiments will help to identify the cause of large and sudden fluctuations encountered in satellite trajectories, he ultimate goal being an ability to predict these fluctuations and their magnitude. OV1-16 is another non-standard satellite, also known as LOADS (LOw Altitude Density Satellite) and Cannon Ball. This unique satellite is designed to have a large a mass/area ratio, so that they can remain in orbit at lower altitudes than conventional satellite, enabling measurements of the atmospheric properties at around 65-90miles altitude. This lower thermosphere region is a largely unknown part of the atmosphere. Cannon Ball lives up to its nickname, as a sphere with a diameter of only 24 inches, although its total weight is 600 lb, largely due to a 1.5 inch thick shell of brass! Concerns about heating by sunlight and atmospheric heating caused by orbiting at low altitude meant that the satellite body has been painted black (to increase radiation) with some gold-plated circular areas. If this experiment goes well, there may be further OV satellites of this type.

Unlucky So Far!
The OV2 series could be considered the “unluckiest” of the Orbiting Vehicle projects to date. Out of four flights, two have failed and two were canceled! The series was originally devised within the ARENTS (Advanced Research Environmental Test Satellite) programme, with the satellites intended to complement the Vela programme, monitoring for violations of the 1963 Partial Test Ban Treaty. However, with the cancellation of ARENTS, OV2 became something of an “orphan” series, its initial three satellites each tasked with quite different research.

OV2-1 shortly before launch, with its experiment package labelled

OV2-1, launched 15 October (GMT) 1965, was intended to monitor the biological hazards of near Earth charged particles, but failed to separate from its launcher. OV2-2, planned to conduct optical measurements from orbit, was cancelled, as was the OV2-4 satellite, added to the programme and designed to observe radiation from trans-lunar orbit. OV2-3, intended to undertake radiation studies, failed when contact was lost after launch on 21 December (GMT) 1965. A fifth OV2 satellite has been authorised and is due for launch later this year to conduct astronomical research and radiation studies. Produced by Northrop and launched on Titan III test flights, the spin-stabilised OV2 satellites had cubic bodies made of aluminium honeycomb, approximately 2ft on a side. Attached to each of the four upper corners of the satellite are 7ft 6in paddle-like solar panels each carrying 20,160 solar cells, although the satellites also have Nickel-Cadmium to operate while in the Earth’s shadow.

Taking a Scout
In a departure from the earlier series, OV3 satellites have all been launched on Scout boosters, used with many civilian satellite programmes, such as the Explorer series. OV3-1 to OV3-4 were built by the Space General Corporation (part of Aerojet), while OV3-5 and 6 were constructed by the Air Force Cambridge Research Laboratory (AFCRL), which also managed the entire series.

Octagonal prisms in shape, the first four OV3 satellites were 2ft 5in in length and the same dimensions wide, with their experiments carried on long booms. With a design life-span of one year, the satellites were covered with 2560 solar cells. OV3-5 and OV3-6 were a little smaller than their predecessors, being only 1ft 9in in length.

The initial group of OV3-1 to 4 were devoted to radiation studies and launched across 1966. OV3-2 made important charged particle observations in conjunction with the 12 November 1966 South American solar eclipse that was also observed by Gemini 12. Other observations and auroral research were also co-ordinated with airborne observations by AFCRL KC-135 aircraft and sounding rocket flights by the National Research Council of Canada.

VLF receiver data from OV3-3 determined the location of the plasmapause (the outer boundary of the Earth's inner magnetosphere), while the satellite also carried out radiation studies using the same suite of instruments as the failed OV2-1. OV3-4 data contributed to the refinement of theoretical models of astronaut radiation dosage.

The final two OV3 missions, in 1967, were focussed on ionospheric research. While OV3-5 failed to achieve orbit, OV3-6, launched 5 December (GMT) 1967 was quite successful. Also known as Atmospheric Composition Satellite (ATCOS)-2, its data is being used to create more accurate atmospheric models.

Despite keeping costs low by using off-the-shelf components, the OV3 programme was phased out after OV3-6, in favour of the cheaper OV1 programme.

Whispering Galleries
Just as particular physical conditions create the “whispering gallery” phenomenon under the dome of a building, the OV4 series satellites was initially created to investigate long range radio propagation in the charged atmosphere of the ionosphere. Each OV4 launch was intended to consist of a pair of satellites, one being the transmitting spacecraft, the other a receiver. However, only the OV4-1 mission was flown in this way with the OV4-2 pair cancelled. OV4-1R and OV4-1T shortly before launch

The OV4-1 satellite pair were both cylindrical, 1ft 5in in diameter, with domed upper ends. 2ft 11in long, they were powered by silver oxide/zinc batteries which gave them a 50-day lifespan.

Launched on a Manned Orbiting Laboratory (MOL) test flight on 3 November (GMT) 1966, OV4-1T carried a transmitter broadcasting on three frequencies in the 20-50 MHz range. To maximise its orbital separation from the OV4-1R receiver satellite, OV4-1T incorporated a small rocket motor. The two satellites were launched into slightly different 190-mile orbits, allowing them to test “whispering gallery” communications over a range of distances. This enabled the OV4-1 satellites to evaluate using the ionosphere's F layer as way to facilitate HF and VHF transmissions between satellites not in line of sight of each other.

Apart from being designated as part of the OV4 series, OV4-3 launched on the same Titan III flight as the OV4-1 pair, was a quite different spacecraft, being the boiler plate model of the Manned Orbiting Laboratory. The reconditioned Gemini 2 (originally flown on a sub-orbital flight on 19 January 1965), was attached to the MOL model. Little Stars
The most recent of the Orbiting Vehicle programme to date, with the smallest satellites, the OV5 series is a continuation of the Air Force's earlier Environmental Research Satellite (ERS) series. OV5 satellites are upgraded versions of the original ERS satellites developed by Space Technology Laboratories (part of TRW Inc), modified with a command receiver, allowing instructions to be sent from the ground, and advanced digital telemetry.
Spin-stabilized, for improved communications and solar power reliability, OV5 series satellites are tetrahedral in shape and made of aluminium struts. Just under 1ft in width, each satellite carries 816 solar cells distributed over its eight triangular faces. Power is stored in a nickel–cadmium battery and experiments are mounted on the vertices of the tetrahedron.

Passive thermal control keeps the inside of the spacecraft at around 59 °F, and an on-board timer is designed to shut off each satellite after 18 months of operation. Telemetry is broadcast on frequencies compatible with NASA Spacecraft Tracking and Data Acquisition Network (STADAN) stations, enabling the satellite data to be received at multiple locations.

The first two OV5 satellites, OV5-1 and OV5-3 were launched on 28 April (GMT) 1967 on a Titan IIIC vehicle. OV5-1, also known as ERS 27 is an X-ray measuring microsatellite associated with the US Air Force's “space weather” prediction programme. OV5-3, also known as ERS 28, is a materials science research project, carrying a variety of metal samples and Teflon, to investigate how they are affected by long-term exposure to the space environment. OV5-2, another materials science research experiment, is due to be launched later this year.

While the Orbiting Vehicle programme has developed somewhat differently from the original concept, insofar as it has largely transitioned away from hitchhiking on various test launches, the OV1, 3 and 5 series satellites have demonstrated the value of using standardised designs as a means for cheap and relatively rapid development and launch of space research instruments. The OV1 and OV5 programmes look set to continue for some years to come and will hopefully contribute further significant data towards our understanding of the space environment. 

So, here's to "micro" satellites–perhaps they presage the future of cheap space development!

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Science / Space Race

[June 28, 1968] Classified Communications (IDCSP Satellite Constellation)

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by Kaye Dee

An advantage of previously working for the Weapons Research Establishment in South Australia is that I am still able to get information (of the unclassified variety, of course) about defence space programmes from my former colleagues. This is particularly helpful when I’m writing about space projects that are not getting a large amount of press coverage here in Australia.


One such project is the Initial Defence Communication Satellite Programme (IDCSP), the United States’ first global military communications network. The most recent IDCSP launch took place on 13 June with the launch of eight satellites on a Titan IIIC rocket, bringing the total number of satellites in the constellation to 27.

The Advent of Defence Satellite Communications
The very first experimental communications satellites were created by the U.S. armed forces. Project SCORE was jointly developed by the U.S. Air Force and communications company RCA, while the first active repeater comsat, Courier 1-B, was developed by the U.S. Army Signal Corps. I think we can be sure that these early satellites satisfactorily carried out classified experiments in secure defence communications, as the first planned military satellite communications network, Project ADVENT, commenced development in February 1960.

Diagram of the proposed ADVENT satellite in orbit

ADVENT intended to place several large, three-axis stabilised, heavy satellites in geosynchronous orbit (with one of its ground stations planned to be located in the Australian Trust Territory of Papua New Guinea). However, this extremely ambitious programme soon fell behind schedule and saw costs balloon out to twice the original estimates, leading to its cancellation in 1962. It’s perhaps not surprising that the ADVENT programme faced difficulties in developing its satellites – even six years later, an operational three-axis stabilised satellite has yet to become reality.

The engineering test vehicle for the ADVENT satellites under construction

Enter IDCSP
Following ADVENT’s cancellation, the U.S. Air Force embarked on a new satellite communications system as a replacement. Originally called the Interim Defence Communications Satellite Programme, it has since been renamed as the Initial Defence Communications Satellite Programme. IDCSP is intended to be the first stage in the longer-term Defence Communications Satellite Program (DCSP), which is being managed by the Defence Communications Agency.

Commenced in 1962, the IDCSP is designed to be significantly cheaper than ADVENT by using a constellation of small, much simpler satellites. The original plan was for a constellation of 24-30 satellites, placed into Medium Earth Orbit using ten Atlas Agena rockets. In October 1963, the programme was placed on hold while the Pentagon investigated renting satellite communications capability through the INTELSAT system, but this idea was abandoned in mid-1964 and Air Force resumed work on the IDCSP.

Doing the Heavy Lifting
As it happened, the delay worked to the IDCSP’s advantage. By 1964, the development of the U.S.A.F.’s heavy-lift Titan IIIC offered the possibility of lofting up to eight satellites per launch. This has meant that the total number of launches required to establish the constellation, and thus the overall cost of the programme, has been greatly reduced. It seems that the Pentagon decided to negotiate “free rides” on early Titan IIIC development launches, although this earned some censure from Congress for risking the success of the programme with launches on an unproven vehicle just to keep costs down! Fortunately, it has been a risk that has largely paid off.

The Air Force decided to develop the Titan III family so that it would have a heavy launch capability independent of NASA’s Saturn rockets. The Titan III vehicles are derived from the Titan II I.C.B.M., that was also the basis of the Titan launch vehicle used for NASA’s Gemini programme. The core of the Titan IIIC is a modified two-stage Titan II, structurally strengthened to accommodate heavier payloads and additional stages. The launcher has two strap-on solid rocket boosters and an additional upper stage with engines that can be restarted, known as the Transtage.

The 25 ft long Transtage uses a pair of Aerojet AJ10-138 engines that are similar in design to the larger engine that Aerojet is developing for the Apollo Service Module. These engines enable the Transtage to put heavier payloads into much higher orbits than the Atlas Agena rocket originally selected for IDCSP. This means that it can place as many as eight IDCSP satellites at a time into sub-synchronous orbits (more on that below) of around 21,000 miles.

The complex requirements for the preparation and launch of a Titan III and its payloads has necessitated the construction of a totally new facility at Cape Kennedy, with three pads, designated Launch Complexes 40, 41 and 42 (this last not yet built). There is also a new Vertical Integration Building (VIB), which can support the simultaneous assembly of up to four Titan III core vehicles. It also contains the Titan III launch control centre.

Keep it Simple
The IDCSP satellites have been designed to avoid the development delays that come from being too technologically ambitious – the kind that sealed the fate of ADVENT. Every satellite in the constellation is an identical spin-stabilized, 26-sided polygon, 34in in diameter. The 100lb satellites are covered with solar cells and have been deliberately kept technologically very simple: they have no back-up batteries or on-orbit command systems. Without command systems, they are virtually “jam-proof” and cannot be moved off orbit by false commands sent by an enemy.

Each satellite has a single 3.5W X-band transponder with a 26 MHz bandwidth. It can handle 600 voice channels or 6000 teletype signals. While the designers have planned for these initial satellites to be operational for three years, they are equipped with an automatic “kill switch”, which is intended to deactivate them after six years in orbit, so that they will not produce any signals that would interfere with more advanced future replacement satellites.

As the small satellite’s transponders are low powered and use a low-gain antenna, the present ground stations are comparatively large, but there are plans for future, smaller mobile ground stations.

“Sprinkled Across the Sky”
One of the few local newspaper articles that I saw about the launch of the first batch of IDCSP satellites described them rather poetically as being “sprinkled across the sky” when they were first released into orbit from the Titan IIIC Transtage. Six hours after launch, the deployment truss on which the IDCSP satellites are mounted enables the satellites to be dispersed one-by-one into orbit, over about 3 minutes. As they are released, the satellites drift apart as they move into orbit.

Because they are not quite in geosynchronous orbit (orbiting at the same speed the Earth rotates, which would "fix" them in the sky), the satellites drift randomly at approximately 28° per day, over time forming a ring of satellites approximately evenly spaced above the Earth's equator. This sub-synchronous orbit has the advantage that the failure of one satellite would not leave a major gap in coverage; at least one other satellite of the constellation would always be visible to an Earth station if one failed. 12 satellites were considered the minimum necessary to provide full coverage, so the current constellation has plenty of redundancy even if several satellites fail. The daily movement of the satellites makes them difficult to track, which also helps to make them more secure against enemy interference.


What are they for? Ssshhh, it’s Secret!
The IDCSP constellation is designed to provide the U.S. military with swift, jam-resistant radio links to its forces in South Vietnam and elsewhere around the world in times of crisis. The satellites enable 24 hour-a-day contact between the Defence Department in Washington and forces in the field. While the IDCSP programme is publicly acknowledged, the satellites are reserved for secret and sensitive command-and-control communications. Routine administrative and logistical messages are relayed by INTELSAT satellites.

IDCSP ground terminals have been installed at American bases at Saigon and Nha Trang, and rumour has it that there have already been experiments with sending high-resolution photographs from Saigon to the Pentagon via satellite, enabling rapid battlefield analysis. In addition to the two ground stations in South Vietnam, there are six other IDCSP ground stations, including in the U.S. and Britain.

Building the IDCSP Satellite Network
The first batch of seven IDCSP satellites was launched from Florida on 16 June 1966, as the payload of the fourth Titan IIIC. In addition to the communication satellites, an eighth satellite, structurally based on the IDCSP satellites and designed to test an experimental gravity gradient stabilisation technique, was also flown. Communications tests were carried out between ground stations in New Jersey, California, England and Germany.

Unfortunately, the second set of eight IDCSP satellites was lost on 26 August 1966 due to the failure of the fifth Titan IIIC’s payload fairing. A replacement set of eight satellites was sent into orbit on the seventh Titan IIIC, on 18 January 1967, followed on 1 July by a further four IDCSP satellites. IDCSP 19 was another experimental satellite, also known as DATS (Despun Antenna Test Satellite), designed to test a more efficient electronically despun antenna platform.

The most recent launch, on 13 June, has come almost exactly two years after the first satellites in the network were put into orbit. Its eight satellites are the final ones to be added to the system, which is now considered to be “operational”, rather than “experimental”.

Britain Follows Suit
Britain has taken an interest in the operation and performance of the IDCSP satellites, as it intends to launch its own military communications satellite soon, to provide military communications across the British Commonwealth. Skynet has been in planning since 1962, with the U.K. deciding on an initial satellite in geostationary orbit over the Indian Ocean, to support force deployments east of Suez. Skynet is considered to be more advanced than IDCSP, as it will have a transponder with two channels, allowing communications between two types of ground station.

Model of a Skynet 1 satellite

Britain was invited to participate in IDCSP in 1965, and the Marconi company built a ground station at its facility in Christchurch, Hampshire, to conduct experiments with the first batch of IDCSP satellites when the U.S. was not using them. Nine ground stations have been planned for Skynet, which are also able to communicate with the IDCSP satellites. These stations will be able to send secret military communications to a large number of locations within the British Commonwealth.

The U.S. Philco Ford company, which developed the original IDCSP design, was contracted to build the first-generation Skynet 1 satellites (of which there will be two). The Marconi company is assisting with this work so that the U.K. will develop the expertise needed to build the Skynet 2 series satellites. Unlike the IDCSP constellation, Skynet satellites will have an on-board manoeuvring system so that they can be kept on station, or moved from one location or another.

With the United States and Britain developing defence communications satellite systems, it's virtually certain the USSR will be doing the same – if it does not have an operational network already (perhaps some of those mysterious Kosmos satellites whose purpose in orbit is unknown?) Since reliable communications are vital to any military operation, it's not hard to imagine that defence comsats like IDCSP and Skynet could become the first casualties in any future superpower conflict…








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Science / Space Race

[MAY 26, 1968] EUROPA AD ASTRA (EUROPEAN SPACE UPDATE)

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by Kaye Dee

The recent launch of the ESRO 2B scientific satellite on 17 May (more on that below) reminds me that it has been a while since I wrote anything about the European launcher development programme being carried out in Australia. There have also been major developments in Europe’s space plans over the past few months, which look like they will significantly change the future of the European space programme.

For readers in the United States and other parts of the world, who may not be familiar with the European space programme, let me take a few moments to introduce the major players and provide a bit of background before talking about recent developments.

Cousins Rather Than Siblings: ELDO, ESRO and CETS
The two most important space bodies in Europe are the European Space Research Organisation (ESRO) and the European Launcher Development Organisation (ELDO). ESRO’s focus is on developing scientific satellites for space research. ELDO looks to develop an independent satellite launch capability for Europe through the Europa rocket, conducting its test flights from the Woomera Rocket Range in Australia.

The French acronym CERS stands for Conseil Européen de Recherche Spatiale

These roles would appear to be complementary, and I have occasionally referred to ELDO and ESRO as “sister” institutions in previous articles, since they have grown up in parallel and have several member states in common. However, I’ve come to think that they are perhaps best considered as “cousins”, as they operate and forward plan quite separately from each other, resulting in a lack of co-ordination across Europe's space activities. While ELDO was established with an assumption that ESRO would be one of the customers for its launch services, ESRO has not waited for a European launcher to become available from ELDO: ESRO 2B has been launched under NASA’s auspices on a Scout vehicle from Vandenberg Air Force Base and for the foreseeable future all planned ESRO satellite launches will be on US rockets.

The French acronym CECLES stands for Conseil européen pour la construction de lanceurs d'engins spatiaux

Mention also needs to be made of the European Conference on Telecommunications by Satellites (CETS), the third space organisation in Europe, which is playing a role in pushing for some of the proposed changes in Europe’s space plans. Unlike ESRO and ELDO, CETS is not active in developing space technologies and vehicles, but provides a forum for European Post, Telegraph and Telecommunications agencies (PTTs) to consider the role of communication satellites and discuss the European role in the INTELSAT global telecommunications satellite system.

ESRO and ELDO: Parallel Lives
Stemming from initiatives taken in 1959 and 1960 by a small group of scientists, led by Italian Prof. Edoardo Amaldi and French physicist Prof. Pierre Victor Auger, ESRO was set up in the early 1960s. Like ELDO, it formally came into existence in 1964. ESRO’s member countries are Belgium, Denmark, West Germany, France, Italy, the Netherlands, Sweden, Spain, Switzerland, and Britain, and the organisation’s focus has been on strictly civil scientific research. Four ESRO members (Britain, France, Italy and West Germany) also have their own national space programmes.

ESRO has already developed a number of technical facilities: the European Space Research and Technology Centre (ESTEC) in the Netherlands, is the newest, opened on 3 April. ESRO has also begun to establish its own space tracking network, ESTRACK, and has its own sounding rocket launch facility, ESRANGE (established in 1964), near Kiruna, Sweden.

The opening of ESTEC on 3 April by HRH Princess Beatrix and her husband Prince Claus included the royal couple being presented with a model of the ESRO 2B satellite

ELDO, on the other hand, was very much a British initiative in 1960-61, seeking partners in Europe for the development of an independent satellite launcher that would use as its first stage the UK’s then-recently cancelled Blue Streak missile. ELDO’s member states are Britain, France, West Germany, Italy, Belgium and the Netherlands. Australia, despite being a non-European country, is also an ELDO member because of its role providing the test launch facilities at Woomera.

The first Blue Streak launch from Woomera in 1964, designated as ELDO F-1, the inaugural test flight of the Europa rocket's first stage

Both organisations operate with a policy of “juste retour” – allocating work to industry in member countries in proportion to their share of financial contribution to the organisation.

So you can see that, unlike the US civilian space programme, under the control of NASA, and the Soviet programme, under central control from the Politburo, there are many fingers in the European space pie, with many complementary and yet competing interests and national agendas.

Not Going Up from Down Under
When I last reported on the ELDO programme, it was to cover the loss of the ELDO F-6 launch in August last year. At the time, I mentioned that a reflight – designated as F-6/2 – was already in planning. Scheduled for December 5, 1967, the first attempt to launch F-6/2 was aborted just 12 seconds before lift-off due to a power failure.



Although successfully launched at 6 a.m. the following morning, the second stage failed to ignite after separation from the first stage. The vehicle then crashed down into the upper reaches of the Simpson Desert, repeating the failure of Europa F-6/1. This was the second failure of an active French Coralie second stage, and an investigation is still underway to determine the cause.

Despite this failure, the next Europa launch – designated F-7 – is still planned for October or November this year as the first test flight with three active stages. Let’s hope that the issues with the second stage have been resolved by then!

Has Britain Lost Its Way in Space?
Since coming to power in the October 1964, the Wilson Labour Government has shown itself to be considerably less enthusiastic about European space activities than its Conservative predecessor. This would appear to be in large part due to the struggling UK economy, but also a response to the lack of success of Britain’s attempts to join the European Economic Community in 1963 and 67, for which UK participation in European space was supposed to be a sweetener.

In 1965, when the cost of completing the original ELDO programme had already climbed to twice the early estimates, France began to call for a revised – and more expensive – programme to develop the Europa vehicle into a launcher capable of placing satellites into geostationary orbit. Calling the Europa I launcher “obsolete”, as it can only place satellites into polar orbit, France has proposed a more sophisticated and powerful Europa II vehicle that would enable Europe to launch communications and other applications satellites without reliance on the United States (which has already given indications that it will take measures to protect its monopoly on the use of geostationary satellites).

Applications satellites, especially for international communications (as demonstrated by INTELSAT), are almost certainly the way of the future in space developments outside human spaceflight, and West Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands have agreed with the French view. This resulted in a July 1966 proposal to complete ELDO’s Europa I programme and add a Europa II development programme.

The British Government, however, began to express severe doubts about the “technological use and the economic viability” of the ELDO programme and opposed the French-led changes. In 1966, it signalled that Britain would not participate in any further financing of ELDO programmes after present projects were completed. Britain also reduced its financial contributions to ELDO from 38.79% (the largest contribution to ELDO’s budget) to 27%, with the difference being made up by the other four paying members (Australia being a non-paying member, on the basis of providing the Woomera facilities).

The reduction in the British financial clout within ELDO, and the desire for an equatorial launch facility, has been a factor in ELDO planning to move away from Woomera to France’s national launch facility in Kourou, French Guiana, at the completion of the ELDO I programme, anticipated in 1970. This has greatly disappointed my friends at the WRE, who spent considerable effort in preparing plans for a launch facility near Darwin, in the Northern Territory, to support an equatorial launch capability in Australia for the Europa II programme.

The first launch from France's Kourou facility, the future home of the ELDO programme, took place on 9 April this year, with the firing of a Veronique sounding rocket

British Space Industry Weighs In!
In November last year, a report from the National Industrial Space Committee, which represents the space interests of British industry, recommended that the British Government should not reduce, but expand its spending on space research and development, in order to stop the brain drain from the UK and obtain a share in what is already being seen as the lucrative space technology business. It recommended that spending on space-related R&D should be increased by around a 25% increase from the present $A60 million to between $A75 million and $A87.5 million said the committee. Comments at the time from Mr Kenneth Gatland, vice president of the British Interplanetary Society, indicated that a major row was looming between industry and Government over Britain's failure to lead Europe into the commercial field of communication satellites. Although the Post Office, which controls British telecommunications, has expressed “severe doubts” about the commercial benefits of space-communication, this seems a bit strange when the Post Office is also the British signatory to INTELSAT, and the UK is the consortium’s second largest shareholder. “Government advisers”, Mr. Gatland said, “were being accused of leaving Britain high and dry through inept policies, allowing France and West Germany to benefit at Britain's expense.” Instead of the “national scandal” of Britain having spent an estimated $A124,707,500 on ELDO without any tangible end project in view, Mr. Gatland has suggested that Britain should give ELDO a target which would bring a return for the large capital investment.

A European Symphonie?
Whatever Britain’s misgivings regarding satellite communications, France and Germany are eager to move into the field of communications satellites to break INTELSAT’s monopoly on international satellite telecommunications. They have embarked on their own joint communications satellite project, known as Symphonie. As this project has taken options on two Europa II launches for its two satellites, it is, at present, ELDO's only customers! Mr Gatland has urged Britain to join France and Germany in the Symphonie project, which will promise a satellite in three to five years.

An early design for the Symphonie communications satellite, which is intended to be three-axis stabilised

Italy has decided to go it alone on the development of a telecommunications satellite known as Project Sirio. The design will apparently be based on the experimental telecommunications satellite that Italy was originally going to develop for ELDO, before that aspect of the programme was cut to reduce overall costs.

ESRO is also reported to be interested in moving beyond scientific satellites into the applications satellite area, in conjunction with CETS, which has expressed interest in the development of a satellite for television distribution.

Whither or Wither, Europe?
With all this history in mind, Europe’s space plans for the future have undergone considerable change in the past few months. According to a report released in March, Europe's space club has mapped out an ambitious programme for the next 10 years that would include telecommunications satellites for television, broadcasting and telephone calls, meteorological, air traffic control and Earth resources satellites, and large numbers of astronomical and other scientific satellites. This programme, which involves a 10 per cent annual increase of expenditure on European space projects, is intended to be discussed when Science Ministers from the 17 member states of ELDO, ESRO and CETS, meet in Bonn, West Germany, in June.

However, the ambitious proposals released in March evolving as originally anticipated is now unlikely, given the most recent events. On 18 April, Britain's Labour Government announced cuts in spending on space research and cast further doubts on the future of ELDO. Although the Government indicated that it would maintain its contribution to the current ELDO programme at the existing level, it could “see no economic justification for undertaking further financial commitments to ELDO after the present programme,” which is due to conclude in 1970.

This (not totally unexpected news) was followed by an announcement from ESRO on 26 April that it was cancelling its plans for its two largest satellites scientific satellites – a major blow for European space co-operation. The two massive TD 1 and TD 2 satellites (the TD stands for Thor Delta, the intended launch vehicle), each weighing 990 lbs, were to have been built under a 100 million franc (about Aus$17,800,000) contract by an international consortium including Hawker Siddeley Dynamics of Britain, the French firm Matra, the West German group ERNO, and Saab of Sweden.

TD1, scheduled for launch in 1970, was designed to study the relationship between earth and sun. TD2, planned for launch the following year, was focused on research into solar ultra-violet radiation and electromagnetic phenomena in the upper atmosphere. The reason for the satellites’ cancellation seems to be connected with disagreements within ESRO in regard to the juste retour allocation of work for the project.

ESRO’s First satellite in Orbit!
Despite the uncertainties about its future space plans, Europe is currently celebrating the launch of the first ESRO satellite to make it to orbit! ESRO-2B was launched 17 May from Vandenberg Air Force Base in California on a Scout B rocket.

This flight occurred almost exactly one year after the loss of its predecessor ESRO 2A on 29 May, 1967. Also launched from Vandenberg on a Scout B, ESRO 2A was lost due to a malfunction of the rocket’s fourth stage, which prevented the satellite from reaching orbit. These first European satellites were launched on Scout vehicles due to an offer from NASA to launch the ESRO's first two satellites free of charge as a ‘christening gift’ for the organisation (and no doubt to woo ESRO towards continuing with US launchers even when ELDO's Europa rockets become operational!)

ESRO 2B, also known as Iris (International Radiation Investigation Satellite), Iris 2 and ESRO 2, is an astrophysical research satellite developed to study solar and cosmic radiation and their interaction with the Earth and its magnetosphere. This will provide continuity to the solar radiation observations of earlier satellites and continue similar particle measurements carried out by the UK’s Ariel 1 satellite. It is the first mission controlled by teams at the European Space Operations Centre (ESOC) in Darmstadt, Germany.

ESRO 2B being prepared for launch

Placed into a highly elliptical near-polar orbit, with an orbital period of 98.9 minutes, ESRO-2B is about 33.5 inches in length, with a diameter just on 30 inches. It weighs 196 lb and is spin-stabilised, with a spin rate of approximately 40 rpm. The satellite is powered by 3456 solar cells on the outer body panels, supplemented by a nickel/cadmium battery. The satellite carries the same seven instruments as its lost predecessor: to detect high-energy cosmic rays, determine the total flux of solar X-rays, measure trapped radiation, investigate Van Allen belt protons and cosmic ray protons. And if you’re wondering why ESRO 2B is the first European satellite and what happened to ESRO 1, the simple answer is that ESRO 1 has yet to be launched! Difficulties in the development of the payload for the polar ionospheric satellite ESRO 1, designed to study how the auroral zones responded to geomagnetic and solar activity, meant that it was eventually agreed to launch ESRO-2 ahead of it. ESRO 1 is due for launch around October this year, so we here at Galactic Journey will cover its story soon. ESRO 2B being tracked at the ESOC mission control centre










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Science / Space Race

[April 8, 1968] Ups, Downs and Tragedy: An Eventful Month in Space (Gagarin's crash, Zond-4, OGO-5, Apollo-6)

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by Kaye Dee

Despite the continued hiatus in human spaceflight on both sides of the Iron Curtin, March and early April have been a busy time in space exploration. But, sadly, I have to commence this review with the tragic news that Colonel Yuri Gagarin, the first person in space, was killed in a plane crash during a training flight on 27 March. Very little is currently known about the circumstances surrounding Gagarin’s death, which has occurred just one month shy of the first anniversary of the loss of Cosmonaut Vladimir Komarov in the Soyuz-1 accident.

Loss of a Space Hero
There have long been rumours that the Soviet leadership refused to allow Gagarin to fly high performance jets or make another spaceflight due to his invaluable propaganda status as Cosmonaut No. 1. However, it seems that since Gagarin completed an engineering degree in February, he had finally been allowed to resume flight status and was undertaking training flights to regain his lapsed jet pilot qualifications.

According to an official government commission investigating the crash, Col. Gagarin was flying a two seat MiG-15 trainer with Colonel Vladimir Seryogin, 46, described as an experienced test pilot and instructor on the training flight. Taking off at 10 a.m., Gagarin and Seryogin apparently flew east 70 miles from Moscow. After completing the training flight, around 10.30, Gagarin radioed that he was returning to base. The plane was then at 13,000 feet. A minute later ground control could not establish contact.

A MiG-15UTI, the same type as the aircraft Gagarin was flying at the time of the crash

An air search began, and a helicopter found the wreckage in a forest. The plane had dived into the ground at an angle of 65 to 70 degrees and was destroyed, killing both men. No information as to the cause of the crash has so far been forthcoming, but a story has been circulated that Gagarin heroically sacrificed himself, refusing to bail out of his stricken aircraft to guide it away from crashing in a populated area. How much truth there is to this, or whether it is pure propaganda, cannot be determined at this time.

Cosmonaut No. 1 is “flying through space forever”
Following an autopsy, the bodies of Gagarin and Seryogin were cremated the day after the crash and the ashes returned to Moscow, where the urns lay in state for 19 hours in the Red Banner Hall of the Soviet Army. Thousands are reported to have filed past to pay their respects to the world’s first space traveller. Thousands more lined the streets as the flower-covered urns, borne on a caisson drawn by an armoured troop carrier, moved slowly to Red Square along a 2½-mile route. The funeral procession included the Gagarin and Seryogin families and the highest leaders of the Soviet state and Communist Party.

The funeral procession for Gagarin and Seryogin making its way towards Red Square

Gagarin and Seryogin were both interred in the Kremlin Wall, behind Lenin's Tomb in Red Square. In what is said to be a rare honour, car horns, factory whistles and church bells sounded in unison as the urn bearing Gagarin's ashes was inserted into a niche in the red brick wall. Then the nation fell still for a minute of silence, followed by a final salvo of cannon fire. A day of national mourning was also declared, the first time this has ever been done in the USSR for someone not a national leader. President Johnson, UN Secretary General U Thant and other world leaders sent messages of condolence. John Glenn sent a personal letter of sympathy to Col. Gagarin’s wife Valentina.

Seryogin and Gagarin buried side by side in the Kremlin Wall. Their various honours and awards are displayed before their portraits

Gagarin was just 34 years old when he died, leaving two young daughters, aged nine and seven. He was based at the cosmonaut training centre near Moscow, involved in training other cosmonauts when not engaged in official duties as a public figure. Little is known about Col. Seryogin, but he has been described as a Hero of Soviet Union and the commander of an air unit. It is unknown if he is also a member of the Soviet cosmonaut corps or has any other role in the Russian space programme.

Gagarin’s words upon landing after his space flight were “I could have gone on flying through space forever”. Though he never returned to space in this life, his spirit surely resides in the cosmos now.

Making up Lost Ground?
The somewhat mysterious Zond-4 unmanned spacecraft was launched on 2 March. A TASS news agency announcement of the launch described Zond-4 as an “automatic station”, “designed to study the outlying regions of near-earth space.”

Thanks to my friends at the Weapons Research Establishment, here is a photo of a Proton rocket, rumoured to be the type used to launch Zond-4.

TASS reported that Zond-4 was put into an initial 170-mile parking orbit, before being sent on a “planned flight” further into space, apparently reaching the environs of the Moon. According to my contacts at the WRE, Zond 4’s flightpath reached an apogee of 240,000 miles, “comparable to lunar altitude”.

No further information was released by TASS about the mission, which has occurred several years after previous launches in the Zond series: Zond-1 was launched in April 1964, Zond-2 in November that year, and Zond-3 in July 1965. “Zond” is the Russian word for “probe” and these earlier spacecraft were apparently planetary or lunar missions. Could Zond-4 actually have been an attempt by the Soviet Union to make up lost ground with a test of the new Soyuz spacecraft, presumably redesigned or modified following the failed Soyuz-1 mission last year?

Does this cutaway illustration represent mysterious Zond-4? My WRE friends think it might!

It would hardly be the first time that the Soviet Union has concealed real purpose of a space mission behind the name of a different spacecraft series. (paging Mr. Kosmos/Cosmos!). As the Soyuz vehicle is believed to be the USSR’s answer to Apollo, a test of an improved spacecraft out to lunar distance would certainly make sense at this time, with the Apollo 6 mission (see below) testing out the Apollo Command and Service Modules just a few days ago.

Whatever its mission, Zond-4 returned to Earth on 9 March, but there was no official communique on the conclusion of the flight. This silence suggests that the re-entry failed in some way and that the spacecraft was either destroyed on re-entry or crashed on landing. If Zond-4 was a test of the Soyuz vehicle, could its loss have been due to a repeat of the parachute failure that doomed Soyuz-1 last year? If this was the case, it does not bode well for the USSR getting its lunar programme back on track in time to challenge the United States in the race for the Moon.

Go, OGO-5!
Just two days after the launch of Zond-4, the United States launched the latest satellite in its Orbiting Geophysical Observatory (OGO) series of scientific satellites. OGO-5 soared aloft on 4 March, establishing itself in a highly elliptical orbit with a 170 mile perigee and a 92,105 mile apogee. The orbital inclination was 31.1 degrees, with the satellite taking 3796 minutes to complete one orbit. The 1,347 lb satellite carries more experiments than any other automated spacecraft to date.

OGO-5 First day Cover and informational insert, courtesy of my Uncle Ernie, the philatelic collector

OGO-5 is primarily devoted to observation of the Earth’s upper atmosphere and its interaction with conditions in the space environment. Like earlier OGO satellites, it carries instruments for studying solar flares (which can also detect cosmic X-ray bursts) and a gamma-ray detector. This will enable it to examine the hazards and mysteries of Earth's space environment at a time when radiation-producing flares on the Sun are intensifying. It will also chart magnetic and electric forces in space, measure gases in Earth's upper atmosphere, investigate the Aurora Borealis over the North Pole and listen for the puzzling radio noises that have been detected from the planet Jupiter.  Each of OGO-5’s predecessors is still operational at this time, so let’s hope the latest Orbiting Geophysical Observatory also has a long life ahead of it.

Apollo 6: NASA Keeps Moving Forward
If Zond-4 has been an un-announced trial of the USSR’s Soyuz lunar spacecraft, Apollo-6 has been NASA’s very public test flight of the Saturn-5 rocket and some of the modifications to the Apollo Command Module.

Launched on 4 April, Apollo-6 marked the second test flight of the massive Saturn-5 launch vehicle, crucial for reaching Moon. The primary objective of the mission was to test the performance of the Saturn-5 and the Apollo spacecraft, the first time that the Command and Service Modules (CSM) would be fully tested in space. In particular, the mission was intended to demonstrate that the Saturn-5’s S-IVB third stage could send the entire Apollo spacecraft (CSM and Lunar Module) out to lunar distances. Although things didn’t go quite to plan, Apollo-6 did accomplish its basic objectives.

An All-Up Test Flight
The Apollo 6 launch vehicle was the second flight-capable Saturn-5, AS-502, its simulated payload equal to about 80% of a full Apollo lunar spacecraft. The CSM it carried was a Block I (Earth-orbit mission) type, with some Block II (lunar mission) modifications. According to NASA “more than 140 tests since last October showed modifications of the Apollo spacecraft since the 1967 disaster had drastically reduced the hazard to life”.

Possibly the most important modification was a new crew hatch, intended to be tested under lunar return conditions. This new hatch incorporated the heat shield and crew compartment hatches of the original Apollo design into a single hatch, called the "unified" design. This has been in response to the Apollo-1 investigation board finding that the dual hatches were too difficult to open in case of emergency and had contributed to the deaths of the crew.

Apollo-6's redesigned unified hatch, photographed during a post-flight inspection of the Commend Module

Like the earlier Apollo-5 test flight, Apollo-6 carried a simulated Lunar Module (LM) which lacked the descent-stage landing gear. It also had no flight systems, and its fuel and oxidiser tanks were liquid-ballasted. While the LM remained inside the Spacecraft-Lunar Module Adapter throughout the flight, its ascent stage was instrumented to determine the craft’s structural integrity and the vibration and acoustic stresses to which it was subjected.

Apollo-6's "legless Lunar Module", formally called the Lunar Test Article LTA-2R

A few weeks prior to launch, NASA announced that, to further reduce fire hazards that contributed to the deaths of Apollo-1 astronauts, it intended to change to a mixture of 60% oxygen and 40% cent nitrogen in the Command Module, while the spacecraft and its crew are on the ground and during launch. Once their spacecraft left the launch pad, the astronauts would switch to pure oxygen. Since the gas mixture will be used in the spacecraft only during ground operations, NASA has not planned any change in the existing environmental control system, so the decision did not affect the Apollo 6 mission.

Apollo 6: What Was Planned
The original Apollo 6 mission plan intended to send the CSM and simulated lunar module into a trans-lunar trajectory. (That trajectory, although passing beyond lunar orbit distance, would not encounter the Moon, which was in another part of its orbit at the time.) The Saturn-5’s S-IVB third stage would be fired for trans-lunar injection, with the CSM separating from the S-IVB soon after. The Service Module engine would then fire to slow the CSM, reducing its apogee to 11,989 nmi.

NASA illustration showing the CSM and LM inside the Spacecraft-Lunar Module Adapter, as they would be at trans-lunar injection

The CSM would then return to Earth as if it had experienced “direct-return” abort during a Moon mission. As it returned, the SM engine would fire again, accelerating the CSM to simulate the conditions that an Apollo spacecraft would encounter on its return from the Moon: a re-entry angle of −6.5 degrees and velocity of 36,500 ft/s. The entire test flight was planned with a duration of about 10 hours.

Not Quite Going to Plan
After the launch was delayed for some days due to problems with guidance system equipment and fuelling, Apollo 6 made a smooth lift-off from Kennedy Space Centre. However, during the last ten seconds of first stage firing, the vehicle severely experienced a type of longitudinal oscillation known as “pogo”. Pogo occurs when a partial vacuum in a rocket’s fuel and oxidiser feed lines reaches the engine firing chamber, causing the engine to “skip”. The pogo phenomenon is well-known, since rockets have experienced it since the early days of spaceflight, and it occurred in launchers such as Thor and Titan II (used for the Gemini program).

While the Apollo-4 Saturn-5 also experienced a mild form of pogo, Apollo-6 was subjected to extreme pogo vibrations. It appears that these oscillations, travelling along the length of the huge Moon rocket, caused multiple problems with the vehicle. Two engines in the second stage shut down early, although the vehicle's onboard guidance system was able to compensate by burning the remaining three engines for 58 seconds longer than planned. The S-IVB engine also experienced a slight performance loss and had to burn for 29 seconds longer than usual. Intense vibrations were felt in the Command Module that could have caused injuries had a crew been onboard. There was also some superficial structural damage to the Spacecraft Lunar Module Adaptor (SLA). A chase plane image of the Apollo-6 launch, taken at approximately the time of the pogo oscillations. It shows an area of discoloration on the SLA indicative of superficial damage and what appears to be falling pieces of debris, perhaps a panel or two shaken lose by the pogo vibrations

The underperformance of the apparently pogo-damaged engines resulted in the third stage being inserted into an elliptical parking orbit, rather than the planned 100 nmi circular orbit. Although Mission Control decided that this did not prevent the mission from continuing, when the vehicle was ready for trans-lunar injection, the apparently damaged S-IVB engine failed to restart.

Repeating Apollo-4
Without the ability to continue with the original flight plan, Mission Control decided to complete some of the mission objectives by adopting a flight plan similar to that of Apollo-4. The SM's Service Propulsion System (SPS) was used to raise the spacecraft into an orbit with a 11,989 nmi apogee, from which it would re-enter. However, the SPS engine did not have enough fuel for a second burn to accelerate the atmospheric re-entry and the spacecraft was only able to enter the atmosphere with a velocity of 33,000 ft/s, instead of the planned 36,500 ft/s that would simulate a lunar return.

With the SM was jettisoned just before atmospheric re-entry, the CM splashed down 43 nmi from the planned landing site north of Hawaii, ten hours after launch. It was recovered by the USS Okinawa.

A Rocket's Eye View
Unlike earlier unmanned missions, the Apollo-6 Saturn-5 was fitted with several cameras intended to be ejected and later recovered. Three of the four cameras on the first stage failed to eject and were lost and only one of the two cameras on the second stage was recovered. Fortunately, this camera provided spectacular views of the separation of the first and second stages.

Two spectacular views of the interstage between the first and second stages falling away, taken from Apollo-6's second stage camera. How amazing that we can now see events happening during a launch that cannot be observed from the ground!

The CM also carried two cameras: a motion picture camera, intended to be activated during launch and re-entry and a 70mm still camera. Unfortunately, as the technical issues meant that the mission took about ten minutes longer than planned, the re-entry events were not filmed. However, the still camera, pointed at the Earth through the hatch window provided impressive photos of parts of the United States, the Atlantic Ocean, Africa, and the western Pacific Ocean. Advanced film and filters, improved colour balance and higher resolution have provided images that are a significant improvement on the photographs taken on previous American crewed missions and demonstrated that future imagery from space will be useful for cartographic, topographic, and geographic studies.

A view of the Dallas-Fort Worth area in Texas, taken from the Command Module's 70mm still camera. Special thanks to the Australian NASA representative for providing me with rush copies of these incredible Apollo-6 images for this article

What’s Next for Apollo?
NASA announced in mid-March that its first Earth-orbiting Apollo mission will be launched on a Saturn 1 vehicle and spend as long as ten days in orbit. The flight, which could come as early as mid-August, will be crewed by astronauts Walter Schirra, Donn Eisele and Walter Cunningham. If that mission goes well and the Saturn-5 is cleared for manned launchings, astronauts James McDivitt, David Scott and Russell Schweickart will ride a Saturn-5 into Earth orbit two or three months later to conduct flight test of the lunar module.

Following the return of Apollo-6, Apollo Programme Director Samuel C. Phillips said, “there's no question that it's less than a perfect mission”, although the Saturn-5’s demonstration of its ability to reach orbit despite the loss of two engines, was “a major unplanned accomplishment”. However, Marshall Space Flight Centre Director Wernher von Braun has recognised that the “flight clearly left a lot to be desired. … We just cannot go to the Moon [with this problem],” referring to the extreme pogo experienced on the flight. This means that solving the pogo phenomenon is now a major priority for NASA in order to keep the Apollo program on track and bolster confidence in the Saturn-5 vehicle. Can they do it? 








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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[February 26, 1968] Stormy Weather (March 1968 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

There's no sun up in the sky

Out in the vastness of space, a constellation of man-made moons keeps watch on the Earth below.  Unlike their brethren, the military sentinels that look out for rocket plumes and atomic blasts, these benign probes monitor the planet's weather with a vantage and a vigilance that would make a 19th Century meteorologist green with envy.

In addition to the wealth of daily data we get from TIROS, ESSA, and Nimbus, the West is now getting aid from an unlikely, but no less welcome, source: behind the Iron Curtain.

Two years ago, the Soviets rebuffed the idea of exchanging weather satellite imagery.  "No need," was what they said; "no sats," was probably the real story.  For in August of 1966, all of a sudden, the USSR activated the "Cold Line" link between Moscow and Washington for the exchange of meteorological data.  This action coincided with the recent launch of Cosmos 122, revealed to be a weather satellite.

This constituted a late start in the weather race–after all, TIROS had been broadcasting since 1960.  Nevertheless, better late than never.  Unfortunately, the Soviets first sent only basic weather charts with limited cloud analysis.  Not much good without the raw picture data.  When we finally got the pictures, starting September 11, 1966, the quality was lousy–the communications link is just too long and lossy.  Our ESSA photos probably didn't look any better to them.

By March 1967, however, the lines had been improved, and Kosmos 122 was returning photos with excellent clarity.

We also got infrared data.  The resolution was much worse, but the Soviets maintained they did first discover a pair of typhoons bearing down on Japan.

Since then, the USSR has orbited at least two more weather satellites, Kosmos 144 and Kosmos 184, both returning the same useful data, often from different orbital perspectives than we can easily reach.  For instance, the Soviet pictures offer particularly good views of the poles and northern Eurasia.

It's a little thing, perhaps, this trading of weather data between the superpowers.  But anything that promotes peaceful exchange and keeps the connections between East and West ready and friendly is something to appreciate.  Sometimes the Space Race is more of a torch relay!

Raining all the time


by Kelly Freas

In sharp contrast, Analog remains an island unto itself, and like all inbred families, often produces challenged offspring.  Such is the case with the March 1968 issue, which ranges from middlin' to awful.

The Alien Rulers, by Piers Anthony


by Kelly Freas

We start with the awful.

Fifteen years ago, the blue-skinned Kaozo engaged our space fleet, destroyed it utterly, and became the benevolent masters of Earth.  They created a working socialist society, implementing tremendous public works projects, and humanity proved remarkably complacent under their rule.  Nevertheless, a revolution of sorts has been hatched, and Richard Henrys is tasked with the stickiest assignment–assassinate the Kazo leader, Bitool.

Henrys is quickly captured, but instead of facing execution, Bitool offers him a deal: protect Seren, the first female Kazo on Earth, during the next three days of the revolution, and he can go free.

Sounds like a decent setup.  It's actually a terrible story.  For one thing, the author of Chthon has all of his off-putting tics on display.  Seren is a straw woman, whose vocabulary is largely limited to "Yes, Richard," and "No, Richard."  The social attitudes of this far future world seem rooted in the Victorian times, with passages like this:

"You'll pose as my wife.  Hang on to my arm and–"

"Pose?" she inquired.  "I do not comprehend this, Richard."

Damn the forthright Kazo manner!  He had five minutes to explain human ethics, or lack of them, to a person who had been born to another manner.  Pretense was not a concept in the alien repertoire, it seemed.

He chose another approach.  "For the time being, you are my wife, then.  Call it a marriage of convenience."  She began to speak, but he cut her off.  "My companion, my female.  On Earth we pair off two by two.  This means you must defer to my wishes, expressed and implied, and avoid bringing shame upon me.  Only in this manner are you permitted to accompany me in public places.  Is this clear?"

And this one:

"I promised to explain why this subterfuge was necessary.  I didn't mean to place you in a compromising situation, but–"

"Compromising, Richard?"

"Ordinarily a man and a woman do not share a room unless they are married."

And then, there's the scene where the feminine disguise Richard puts together for Seren falls apart because her body lacks mammalian contours.  Why doesn't he then dress her in male clothes?  And when her stockings start to fall off her legs, I couldn't help wondering how they'd somehow uninvented Panty Hose in the 21st Century.

But then, I'm not sure if Piers Anthony has actually ever talked to a woman, much less seen her in her underthings.

On top of that, the final revelation that the Earth fleet was never destroyed, but instead went on to conquer Kazo, and the two planets have swapped overlords (both governments populated only by the very best technocrats) is so ridiculous as to beggar belief.  That Henrys is invited to become one of the ruling class largely for his novel ideas on how to cut a cake fairly, well, takes the cake.

One star.

Uplift the Savage, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

Members of an interstellar agency learn that the best way to increase the technological sophistication of a primitive race is not to give them expertise, but allow them to steal it.  The two-page point is hammered in using fourteen pages of digs at women, higher education, and educated women.

One star.

The Inevitable Weapon, by Poul Anderson


by Harry Bennett

A scientist discovers teleportation.  Useless for interstellar travel, at least for a while, it's great for beaming in concentrated starlight–as a weapon at first, but potentially, to provide energy.

This would be a decent, one-page Theodore L. Thomas piece in F&SF.  Instead, it's fourteen pages of bog-standard detective/secret agent thriller.

Two stars.

Birth of a Salesman, by James Tiptree, Jr.


by Kelly Freas

Jim Tiptee's freshman story is an Anvilesque tale of breakneck pace and nonstop patter.  T. Benedict of the Xeno-Cultural Gestalt Clearance (XCGC) has got a tough job: making sure the trade goods of the galaxy not only take into account the taboos or allergies of alien customers, but also the transhipment longshorebeings. 

Tedium sets in by page two, which, coincidentally, is how many stars I rate it.

The Horse Barbarians (Part 2 of 3), by Harry Harrison


by Kelly Freas

A lot and very little happen in this installment of Jason dinAlt's latest adventure.  Last time on Deathworld III, Jason offered up his fellow Pyrrans as mercenaries to wipe out the horse barbarians on the planet Felicity.  It's fair play, after all, since these barbarians (absolutely not the Mongols, because they have red hair!) slaughtered the last attempt at a mining camp on their frozen plateau.

So, Jason accompanies "Temuchin", the warlord, on an expedition down a cliffside to the technologically advanced civilization on the plains below.  There, they steal some gunpowder, kill a lot of innocent people, and come back–in time to link up with the rest of the Pyrrans for a raid on the Weasel clan.  More slaughter ensues.

Jason feels kind of bad about his part in the killing, but it's all a part of a master plan to someday, eventually, pacify the warriors with by opening up a trade route with the south (as opposed to setting up off-world trade, since the barbarians hate off-worlders).  So whaddaya gonna do?

Well, personally?  Pick a different career path.  Even if the nomads are the biggest savages since the Whimsies, Growleywogs, and Phantasms, what right do the Pyrrans have to kill…anyone? 

Setting aside the moral concerns, Harrison is still an effective writer.  I wasn't bored, just a bit disgusted.

Three stars.

Practice!, by Verge Foray


by Kelly Freas

A shabby little private school for problem children is suddenly the subject of a set of accreditation inspectors.  There's nothing wrong with the kids or the staff–the problem is that the snoops might discover it's really a training ground for junior ESPers!  Luckily, the tykes are on the side of management, and the inspectors are snowed.

I went back and forth on whether this very Analogian tale deserved two or three stars.  On the one hand, I'm getting a little tired of psi stories (the headmaster in the story even says there's no such thing as something for nothing–and that's what psi is), and I resented the smug digs at public school.

But what swayed me toward the positive end of the ledger (aside from the unique and lovely art) was the bit at the end whereby it's suggested that the reason for the school, and the reason psi is so unreliable, is because, like music or language, it's something that needs to be practiced from an early age.  It's a new angle, and pretty neat.

So, three stars.

Can't go on…

Wow.  2.1 stars is bottom-of-Amazing territory, and it easily makes this month's Analog the worst magazine of the month.  Compare it to Fantastic (2.2), IF (3), New Worlds (3.3), and the excellent Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.6), and the contrast is even stronger.

Because of the paucity of magazines, you could fit all the really good stuff into, say, one issue of Galaxy.  On the other hand, women wrote 12% of new fiction this month, which is decent for the times (not to mention the episodes of Star Trek D. C. Fontana has been penning).

It's 1968, an election year.  Maybe this is the year Campbell hands the reins over to someone else.  It certainly couldn't hurt the tarnished old mag.

And then, maybe the sun will come out again!

Speaking of election news, there's plenty of it and more on today's KGJ Weekly report.  You give us four minutes, and we'll give you the world:



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Science / Space Race

[January 24, 1968] On Track for the Moon (Apollo 5 and Surveyor 7]

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by Kaye Dee

As we approach the first anniversary of the shocking loss of the crew of Apollo 1, the success of the recent Apollo 5 mission reminds us that the spirit of Grissom, White and Chaffee lives on as NASA continues developing and testing the technology to make a manned lunar landing a reality.

Apollo 1's Legacy
Although the fire that engulfed Apollo 1 and killed its crew destroyed its Command Module, the accident took place on the launchpad during a launch simulation, and fortunately the Saturn IB booster intended to loft that mission into orbit remained undamaged. Because that AS-204 vehicle was the last Saturn IB with full research and development instrumentation, NASA decided that this rocket would be re-assigned to Apollo 5, the much-delayed first test flight of the Lunar Module – the spacecraft essential for successfully landing astronauts on the Moon – while manned Apollo missions continue on hold.

From LEM to LM
The spacecraft we now call the Lunar Module (LM) became part of the Apollo programme in 1962, when NASA decided to adopt the technique of lunar orbit rendezvous (LOR) for its Moon landing missions. First proposed in 1919 by Ukrainian engineer and mathematician Yuri Kondratyuk, the LOR technique uses two spacecraft that travel together to the Moon and then separate in lunar orbit, with a lander carrying astronauts from orbit to the Moon’s surface. The LOR method allows the use of a smaller and lighter lander than the large, all-on-one spacecraft originally proposed for Apollo, and also provides for greater flexibility in landing site selection.

An early diagram comparing the size of a lunar landing vehicle using the Direct Ascent method of reaching the Moon and a LOR lunar excursion vehicle

The version of lunar orbit rendezvous suggested to NASA by engineer John C. Houbolt called for a landing vehicle consisting of two parts: a landing stage, that would accomplish the descent from orbit and remain on the Moon’s surface, and an ascent stage that would carry the astronauts back to the main spacecraft in orbit. This design gave us the Command Service Module as the Moon orbiting spacecraft, and what was originally called the Lunar Excursion Module (LEM, pronounced as a word, not as the individual letters) as the vehicle that would land astronauts on the Moon.

Dr. Houbolt illustrating the main spacecraft needed for his Lunar Orbit Rendezvous proposal for the Apollo programme

In June 1966, NASA changed the name to Lunar Module (LM), eliminating the word “excursion”. My friends at the WRE tell me that this was because there were concerns that using “excursion” might make it sound like the lunar missions were frivolous, and so reduce support for the Apollo programme! Despite the official name change, the astronauts, as well as staff at Grumman, still call it “the lem”, which certainly feels easier to say.

Delays…Delays…
However, the two-stage LEM/LM has proved much harder to develop and manufacture than the contractor Grumman originally anticipated, because of the complexity and level of reliability required of the hardware. Originally, NASA planned for the automated test flight of LM-1, the first Lunar Module, to occur in April 1967, but the delivery of the spacecraft was repeatedly delayed: the two stages of LM-1 did not arrive at Cape Kennedy until late June last year.

The separately-crated stages of LM-1 arriving at Kennedy Space Centre on board a Super Guppy cargo plane. The stages were mated to each other four days later

A team of 400 engineers and technicians then checked out the spacecraft to ensure that it met specifications. The discovery of leaks in the ascent stage propulsion system meant that the ascent and descent stages were demated and remated multiple times for repairs between August and October. LM-1 was finally mounted on its Saturn IB booster on 19 November and a launch date was set for the latter part of January 1968.

LM-1, encased in its SLA, being hoisted up for mounting on its launch vehicle

Lift Off at Last!
Although the launch was delayed for 10 hours when the countdown was held up by technical difficulties, Apollo 5 finally lifted off on 22 January 1968 (23 January for us here in Australia). The mission was designed to test the LM's descent and ascent propulsion systems, guidance and navigation systems, and the overall structural integrity of the craft. It also flight tested the Saturn V Instrument Unit.

Because they would not be needed during the Apollo 5 test flight, LM-1 had no landing legs, which helped to save weight. NASA also decided to replace the windows of LM-1 with aluminium plates as a precaution, after one of the windows broke during testing last December. Since the mission was of short duration, only some of LM-1’s systems were fully activated, and it only carried a partial load of consumables. 

LM-1's "legless" configuration is clearly seen in this view of it during checkout at Kennedy Space Centre

The Apollo 5 flight did not include Command and Service Modules (CSM), or a launch escape tower, so pictures of the launch vehicle show it to look more like its predecessor AS-203 than AS-202, which tested the CSM. The Apollo 5 stack had an overall height of 180ft and weighed 1,299,434 lbs. The LM was contained within the Spacecraft Lunar Module Adapter (SLA), located just below the nose cap of the rocket. The SLA consists of four panels that open like petals once the nose cap is jettisoned in orbit, allowing the LM to separate from the launcher.

The Saturn IB worked perfectly, inserting the second stage and LM into an 88-by-120-nautical-mile orbit. After the nose cone was jettisoned, LM-1 coasted for 43 minutes 52 seconds, before separating from the SLA into a 90-by-120-nautical-mile orbit. NASA’s Carnarvon tracking station in Western Australia tracked the first six orbits of the mission, while the new Apollo tracking station at Honeysuckle Creek, near Canberra, followed LM-1’s first orbit.

Putting LM-1 Through its Paces
Since it had no astronaut crew, the LM-1 test flight had a mission programmer installed, which could control the craft remotely. The first planned 39-second descent-engine burn commenced after two orbits, only to be aborted by the Apollo Guidance Computer after just four seconds, as the spacecraft was not travelling at its expected velocity. Exactly why this occurred is now being investigated. Of course, if there had been a crew onboard, the astronauts would probably have been able to analyse the situation and decide whether the engine should be restarted.

Instead, Mission Control, under Flight Director Gene Kranz, decided to conduct the engine and "fire-in-the-hole" tests under manual control, as without these test firings the mission would be deemed a failure. The "fire in the hole" test verified that the ascent stage could fire while attached to the descent stage, a procedure that will be used to launch from the Moon’s surface, or in the event of an aborted lunar landing. It involves shutting down the descent stage, switching control and power to the ascent stage, and firing the ascent engine while the two stages are still mated.

Apollo 5 Flight Director Gene Kranz (right) with future Lunar Module crew Astronauts McDivitt (left) and Schweickart (centre) discussing LM-1's control issues

Both the ascent and descent engines were fired multiple times during the flight to demonstrate that they could be restarted after initial use. Eight hours into the mission, a problem with the guidance system did cause the ascent stage to spin out of control, but the vital engine test burns had been completed by then. LM-1 also demonstrated its ability to maintain a stable hover, and the guidance and navigation systems controlled the spacecraft's attitude and velocity as planned.

At the conclusion of the flight testing, the separated ascent and descent stages were left in a low orbit, with the anticipation that atmospheric drag would naturally cause their orbits to decay so that the craft would re-enter the atmosphere. The ascent stage re-entered and was destroyed on 24 January, but as I write the descent stage is still in orbit.

Another Step on the Road to the Moon
NASA considers that the LM performed well during its test flight, and have deemed Apollo 5 a success. One wonders now if the second unmanned test flight with LM-2, planned for later this year, will need to go ahead. NASA also plans to return astronauts to space with a test flight of the redesigned Command Module in September this year. Once that goal is accomplished, every part of the Apollo system will have been tested in spaceflight and it will finally be “Go!” for astronauts to shoot for the Moon. I can’t wait!

Lunar map showing the landing sites of all the successful Surveyor missions

So Long Surveyor!
As the Apollo programme powers forward, the last of NASA’s automated lunar exploration programmes is coming to an end, with Surveyor 7 now in operation on the Moon. The Surveyor project was developed with the goal of demonstrating the feasibility of soft landings on the Moon's surface, ensuring that it would be safe for Apollo crews to touch down in their Lunar Modules. The Surveyor landings have complemented the Lunar Orbiter programme (which drew to a close in the latter part of last year), which imaged the Moon from orbit, mapping the lunar surface and providing detailed photographs of many proposed Apollo landing sites.

Making It Safe for a LM Landing
Of the seven Surveyor missions, five achieved their objectives, returning valuable data and images from the lunar surface. Surveyor 1, launched on 30 May (US time) in 1966, was the first American spacecraft to soft land on the Moon (following the successful landing of the USSR’s Luna 9 on 31 January that year), returning 11,237 images of the lunar surface. Unfortunately, its successor, Surveyor 2, failed in September 1966, impacting onto the lunar surface when a malfunction of the guidance system caused an error in the mid-course correction as it travelled to the Moon.

Surveyor 1's panorama of the lunar surface, which captured its shadow, cast by the light of the Earth

Surveyor 3, which lifted off on 17 April 1967, was the first to conduct in-situ experiments on the lunar soil, using its extendable arm and scoop. The spacecraft also returned over 6,000 images, including the famous "Surveyors Footprint" shot, showing its footpad on the lunar surface. The probe had a lucky escape as it tried to land: a problem with its descent radar caused the descent engine to cut off late, resulting in the lander bouncing twice on the lunar surface before settling down to a final safe landing!

Surveyor 3's footprint and footpad on the lunar surface, showing how it bounced on landing. The extendable arm and scoop are visible on the left of the picture

Just three months later, in July, Surveyor 4 was not so lucky. After a textbook flight to the Moon, contact was lost with the spacecraft just 2.5 minutes before touchdown in the Sinus Medii (Central Bay) region and it crashed onto the lunar surface. It’s believed that the solid-fuel descent engine may have exploded.

Launched on 8 September, Surveyor 5 also encountered engine problems on descent to the lunar surface, with a leak in the spacecraft's thruster system. Fortunately, it survived to make a safe landing and returned over 20,000 photographs over three lunar days. Instead of a sampler arm, Surveyor 5 carried an alpha backscattering experiment, and had a bar magnet attached to one landing pad. It carried out the first off-Earth soil analysis and made one of the most significant finds of the Surveyor missions — that the Moon's surface is likely basaltic, and therefore suitably safe for human exploration.

Surveyor 5's alpha backscattering experiment, sometimes described as a chemical laboratory on the Moon

Surveyor 6 landed safely near the Surveyor 4 crash site in November 1967 carrying an instrument package virtually identical to Surveyor 5. The spacecraft transmitted a total of 30,027 detailed images of the lunar surface, as well as determining the abundance of the chemical elements in the lunar soil. As an additional experiment, Surveyor 6 carried out the first lift-off from the Moon. Its engines were restarted, lifting the probe 12 ft above the lunar surface, and moving it 8 ft to the west, after which it landed again safely, and continued its scientific programme. 

Surveyor 7 – a Last Hurrah!
The successful completion of the Surveyor 6 mission accomplished all the goals that NASA had set for the Surveyor programme as an Apollo precursor. The JPL Surveyor team therefore decided that for the final mission they would aim for a riskier landing site, in the rugged highlands near the Tycho Crater. The engineers gave Surveyor 7 a less than 50-50 chance of landing upright due to the rough terrain in the area!

Tycho crater was the challenging landing site for NASA's last Surveyor mission

Launched on 7 January, Surveyor 7 is the last American robot spacecraft scheduled to land on the Moon before the Apollo astronauts. Its instrument package combines all the experiments used by its predecessors, in order to determine if the rugged terrain would be suitable for a future Apollo landing site.

During its first lunar day, the spacecraft’s camera has returned more than 14,000 images, including some views of the Earth! One of Surveyor 7’s innovations is the use of mirrors to obtain stereoscopic lunar photos. Laser beams directed at the Moon from two sites in the United States have also been recorded by cameras aboard Surveyor 7.

A view of the Earth captured by Surveyor 7's camera

Getting a Scoop
Surveyor 7’s versatile soil mechanics surface sampler is a key instrument on this mission. Designed to pick up lunar surface material, it can move samples around while being photographed, so that the properties of the lunar soil can be determined. It can also dig trenches up to 18 inches into the lunar surface to determine its bearing strength and squeeze lunar rocks or clods. The sampler is a scoop with a container which can be opened or closed by an electric motor. The scoop has a sharpened blade and includes two embedded magnets, to search for ferrous minerals and determine the magnetic characteristics of the lunar soil. So far, the moveable arm and scoop have performed 16 bearing tests, seven trenching tests, and two impact tests.

Only a few Surveyor 7 pictures are currently available, but this view of Surveyor 3 digging a trench into the Moon's surface shows how the scoop carries out this task

The scoop is mounted below the spacecraft’s the television camera so that it can reach the alpha-scattering instrument in its deployed position and move it to another selected location. In fact, the scoop helped to free the alpha-scattering instrument when it failed to deploy on the lunar surface. It has also been used to shade the alpha-scattering instrument and move it to different positions to evaluation other surface samples. During 36 hours of operation between January 11 and January 23, 1968, the sampler has performed flawlessly. Soil analyses have been conducted, as well as experiments on surface reflectivity and surface electrical properties. 

Surveyor 7 is now “sleeping” through its first lunar night. If it survives this period of intense cold, hopefully it will continue to produce significant results during its next lunar day. But if it doesn’t, the scientists and engineers at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory are already describing the Surveyor programme as a “treasure house of information for landing a man on the Moon before the end of this decade”. This has to be a fitting epitaph for any space mission.








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Magazine/Anthology, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[November 30, 1967] One door closes… (December 1967 Analog and Australia joins the Space Race!)

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by Gideon Marcus

Mags or paperbacks?

The latest issue of Yandro has got a nice piece from Ted White reviewing the latest (and best?) tome on science fiction by Alexei Panshin.  The best part of White's article is his gentle but lengthy disagreement over the status of magazines versus paperbacks.  Both White and Panshin agree that the paperback novel format is The Next Big Thing (indeed, it's already here), but they disagreed on their role and prospects.

Panshin sees the science fiction digests as a continuation of the pulps, with all the negative connotations attached thereto.  He thinks they will eventually die.  White strongly disagrees.  Firstly, he notes that pulp does not equal bad–many extremely talented authors got their start cranking out a half million words for the old mags.  Indeed, White says magazines are now populated by a stable of established writers who have perfected their trade while the paperbacks, since they are a buyer's market, will publish anything.  Essentially, the books have taken the role the magazines had in the glut days of the early '50s.

White goes on to say that paperbacks are great, but 1) mags are the main outlet for short stories, and some authors are just better at the short form, and 2) editors keep mags going for the love of it.  This means they are likely to survive longer than purely economic considerations would suggest.

It's a good piece.  I'd give it a read.

The issue at hand

Speaking of which, should you give the strikingly covered latest issue of Analog a read?  Well, if you're one of the 30,000 subscribers who gets it delivered, sure go ahead.  If you're eyeing it at a newsstand, you'll want to read further…


by John Schoenherr

Dragonrider (Part 1 of 2), by Anne McCaffrey

In Weyr Search, the first installment of this serial-in-all-but-name, we were introduced to planet Pern.  It is a fraught former Earth colony, severed from its homeworld for thousands of years and ravaged periodically by rhizomic attacks from a nearby world.  The only defense against the "threads" are fire breathing dragons ridden by telepathically connected humans.

The problem is it's been four centuries since the last attack and the "weyrs" of dragronriders have been allowed to go fallow.  Only Benden Weyr is left, and it is woefully undermanned and underdragoned.

This latest installment in the saga of Pern opens up sometime after the last.  Lessa, heir to the Hold of Ruatha and now Weyrlady by virtue of her communion with the dragon queen Ramoth, has shacked up with the F'lar, head of the dragonriders.  Not because the two like each other, but because that's the law: Weyrladies and Weyrleaders must get hitched.

The thread has begun to fall, and the dragons are sorely taxed to meet the challenge, teleporting in and out of the frigid between to intercept the alien spores.

(Note: What do you call it when a dragon relieves itself between?  An ICBM!)

Despite the perseverence of F'lar's crew, the thread has the upper hand–until Lessa accidentally discovers that dragons not only can teleport and telepath, but they can also time travel, too!  (telechron?) As one might expect, this changes the whole equation…but maybe not for the better.


by John Schoenherr

I dunno.  I was expecting a rousing Battle of Britain story, with never so much being owed by so many to so few.  The thread would start gradually, the brave fighters would fight to their limits, and through ingenuity and tenacity, eventually win.  The story would get extra points for being by and from the viewpoint of woman, a rare thing in science fiction, particularly in the mag that Campbell built.

Instead, the story is badly paced, lurching from scene to scene.  There is no build-up to the thread strike, no mounting of tension; it is just suddenly upon them.  McCaffrey throws psionic conceits against the wall to see which ones stick (Lessa not only discovers time travel, but she is the only one who can communicate with all of the dragons–unlike the other riders, who can only communicate with their bonded dragon).

Beyond that, the two main characters are thoroughly unlikeable, by turns yelling and sardonically sniping at each other.  An element of violence suffuses their interactions, with F'lar and Lessa's couplings being referred to as not less than rape.  It all feels very Marion Zimmer Bradley.  I've said before that Lessa feels like a wish-fulfillment character for the author.  This hypothesis is only becoming more concerning.

What's frustrating is I feel there could be an interesting story here in the hands of someone else.  Jack Vance has already written a thematically similar tale with his The Dragon Masters.  It's clear that Campbell wants Pern to be the next Dune, complete with striking Schoenherr covers.  Thus far, I'd say McCaffrey isn't up to the task.

I was originally going to give the installment a bare three stars, but I think I've talked myself out of it.

Two stars.

The Destiny of Milton Gomrath, by Alexei Panshin

In this short short, an orphaned garbage collector spends his life convinced that his existence of drudgery is a mistake, and that someone, somehow, will rectify the mistake some day.

Turns out he's right, but that may not be a good thing.

This could be the start of a mildly entertaining Laumer novel.  Instead, it ends right after the first punchline.

Blink and you'll miss it: three stars.

Whosawhatsa?, by Jack Wodhams


by Kelly Freas

Picture a world where a sex change is as complete and easy as an appendectomy…and reversible, to boot!  Now picture the most complicated legal case possible involving a married couple seeking a divorce, both parties of which have swapped genders.  And there are children involved, multiple paramours, probate issues, and a Strong Public Interest.

On the one hand, this story is a drag.  The attempts to make it "funny", mostly consisting of endless scenes in which the judge assigned the case contemplates suicide rather than attempt presiding, are a flop.  Also, one gets the feeling that if women's lib had advanced in the story as much as medical science, most of the legal issues and many of the social ones would be irrelevant.  Particularly if 1) we could extend the legal rights currently afforded women in the federal government to all women, and 2) we could approach homosexuality with a less than medieval attitude.

That said…

There is very interesting exploration of what it means to change genders and the motivations that underly the desire to make such a transition.  While the situation is made as ludicrous as possible, the subjects, for the most part, are taken seriously.  I actually found the piece remarkably progressive, especially for Analog.  Certainly, I've never read anything like it before.

Three stars.

Beak by Beak, by Piers Anthony


by Kelly Freas

An alien spacecraft orbits the Earth, neither communicating nor responding to communications.  Meanwhile, a red parrakeet arrives at the home of a bird-keeper and joins his avian pet family for a time.

This is a pleasant pastoral piece that tries a little too hard to get its message across.  Still, I'll read something like this a thousand times before I'll read Chthon again.

Three stars.

Venus and Mercury—Locked Planets? by R. S. Richardson

Dr. Richardson writes so-so science fiction, but I generally quite like his science fact articles.  This one talks about the newly discovered rotation rates of Venus and Mercury, as well as what they might mean in relation to the history of the solar system.

On the one hand, I learned a bit, and that's significant given that I know a lot of astronomy.  On the other, I felt the pictures were worth a thousand words, and I found myself skimming a lot of the text.  In other words, maybe 20 pages wasn't necessary to make the point (God help us–next month's science article will be 10,000 words!).

Still, four stars.

A Question of Attitude, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

A recruit for the interstellar patrol finds himself in an increasingly difficult series of imaginary tests, ones that stick him in mortal peril in a simulated alien planet environment.  He seems to fail each one, ending up "dead", yet the Lt. Colonel in charge of training seems to think he has promise.

Normally, Anvil and Campbell are a toxic combination.  This time around, the story is kind of interesting.  I also rather enjoyed the nihilistic suggestion that the recruit's success is measured in the degree of his failure, and also that passing the tests only means his life is about to get worse.  It fits with the whole zeitgeist of our current engagement in Vietnam.  Even if Joseph Heller did it better.

Three stars.

Psi Assassin, by Mack Reynolds


by Kelly Freas

Lastly, yet another of Reynolds' tales of Section G, the interstellar agency whose job is to make sure no human planet ends up too backwards, lest the race become prey to an ominous but yet unmet alien menace.  This time, a psionic assassin is sent to kill the head of a Latin dictatorship.  The problem: agent Ronny Bronston has already dispatched said leader and taken his identity!

We have all the hallmarks of a Reynolds Section G story: endless historical lectures (that never seem to have any object lessons beyond the mid-20th Century), flippant personalities that leach the story of any gravitas, the lone female agent (Reynolds never lets us forget her sex), and a happy ending.

Reynolds has done decent work with this series, but less often than not.

Two stars.

Doing the math

So who's right?  Alex or Ted?  Based on this month, I'd give the nod to Ted.  While Analog was on the mediocre side, managing just 2.8 stars, other magazines fared much better.  Both Galaxy and New Worlds scored 3.2 stars.  Fantasy and Science Fiction was also pretty good (3.1).  If was a bit tired, but par for the course (2.8), and while Amazing's 2.7 score puts it at the bottom of the pack, it actually is on an upward trend.

You could fill two magazines with all the superior stuff that came out this month, which is a good crop.  Sadly, McCaffrey wrote the only woman-penned piece, and it wasn't very good (though it was better than Poul Anderson's novella in Galaxy).

I give magazines at least a few more years…

But that's not all we have for today.  All the way from Australia comes this exciting stop press in the world of space news!:


by Kaye Dee

“Australia Joins the Space Club!”

Although Australia has supported American and British/European space efforts over the past decade, just yesterday, on 29 November we finally gained our own membership of the Space Club by placing our first satellite, WRESAT-1, into orbit. I’ve written articles previously about the first satellites of France and Italy, so it gives me great pride to report on Australia’s own satellite launch.


WRESAT-1 under construction in at the WRE

WRESAT-1 (WRE Satellite) has been a joint project of the Weapons Research Establishment (WRE) and the University of Adelaide, with significant support from the United States. In 1966, the Advanced Research Projects Agency (ARPA) offered Australia a spare Redstone rocket from the ARPA-led Project Sparta programme at Woomera as a satellite launcher. Sparta has been the final phase of a US/UK/Australian re-entry physics research programme commenced in 1960, investigating radar-echo phenomena created by re-entering missile warheads. The Sparta team even offered to prepare and fire the Redstone for the WRE.

“A Rush Job!”

The scientists and engineers involved in the Australian upper atmosphere research programme took advantage of the proposal to move their instruments from sounding rockets to satellite. However, the Sparta launch offer placed the satellite project on a very tight schedule, as the spacecraft would have to be ready for launch by the end of 1967, when the Sparta project would be complete and the Americans returning home. So, in just 11 months Australia’s, WRESAT has been designed, constructed, tested and was finally launched on 29 November. Its development has been an example of local “make-do” ingenuity, as much of the testing equipment needed was not available in the country.

Australia’s first satellite has been designated WRESAT-1 because my WRE colleagues hope that it will have many successors. Australia doesn’t yet have a space agency like NASA, but the WRE is putting a proposal to the Australian Government for a national space programme, and we hope that it will be funded, with the WRE formally designated as the Australian national space agency.


Diagram showing the internal layout of WRESAT’s systems and scientific instruments

Given the short development period, WRESAT’s scientific payload consists of instruments similar to those already flown in the Australian sounding rocket programme conducted in conjunction with the University of Adelaide Physics Department. The university team has developed a suite of instruments to study solar and ultra-violet radiation, atmospheric ozone and molecular oxygen density, as well as measuring the temperature of the solar atmosphere.

“Going Up From Down Under”

After an aborted launch attempt on the 28th, the Redstone lifted-off flawlessly on the 29th to place WRESAT into a polar orbit, where it is being tracked, and its telemetry signals recorded, by NASA’s Satellite Tracking and Data Acquisition Network – a service also generously provided free to Australia.


WRESAT soars on its way to orbit from Launch Area 8 at Woomera

Because of its short development time, a solar array could not be designed for WRESAT, and the satellite is only battery-powered. This means it will have a very short operational lifespan, but we expect it to gather a large amount of data on the upper atmosphere that will provide a check on the data already gathered by sounding rockets.

Let’s hope that WRESAT-1 marks the start of Australia’s true Space Age, and that this country will soon “shine as brightly as the Southern Cross”, as President Johnson has put it in his congratulatory telegram on our first national launch!




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