Highways Into Space: A first-hand account of the beginnings of the human space program (25 page)

Back in Ohio, we packed up again and, this time, in my brother-in-law George’s brand new, black Buick station wagon. He considered that more appropriate than our ‘64 wagon, given the circumstances. We were going back to my hometown of Old Forge, Pennsylvania, for what might be called, “hometown boy does well and brings honor to his town.” It was an outpouring of pride that one of Old Forge’s own played a role in our country’s space program and the achievement of President Kennedy’s goal of 1961. It was also a joy to see how much my folks, grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends felt that a part of Apollo XI belonged to them. This was a special time for my parents and they were loving it. May every son and daughter get to see his parents basking in the joy of their moment of success. A reception on Friday was a great time to see boyhood friends and many of the dignitaries in our town and in the region, many of whom were new to me. All in all, heartwarming. Chris’s long time deputy, Sig Sjoberg, made the trip to Old Forge. Sig had always been a great supporter of those of us in MCC, maybe because he had not worked on-console. He was the quiet voice in Chris’ councils. He seemed to fully enjoy meeting everybody and participating in all the festivities. Sig gave an inspirational address on Sunday and was a big hit with the locals.

The last time I had been to a parade in Old Forge was in 1953. Tom Gaylets, former star center on the Old Forge High School football team, came home from the Korean War. Officially, it was not a declared war but the GIs did not see any difference. Tom had been imprisoned for some time as a POW, held by the North Koreans. And this was the first time a hostile country tried to brainwash and turn our POWs. It had been bad for those men and their families, friends and fellow citizens. To welcome Tom, the townspeople of Old Forge released their joy and pent-up anxieties for one of their own in a wonderful, cheering, flag waving afternoon as Tom was paraded in an open convertible through the streets. And you might guess who the chairperson was for my Saturday parade. None other than Tom himself. What an honor.

Marilyn and Glynn at Century Plaza

And, it was a grand parade. Beautiful, sunny day. Flags waving all through town. Open convertibles and our kids just chomping to ride in them, And, I believe, they each had one to themselves. Mom and Dad got to ride in one and see their town in a new way. The parade ended up at the football stadium and, with some speechmaking, we were ready to launch a small rocket. By this time, everybody knew we launched rockets by counting backwards and a couple hundred of us did so and off it went, no doubt a “GO” for orbit.

On Sunday, the Old Forge Lions Club sponsored a testimonial dinner at St. Nicholas Hall and everybody enjoyed the afternoon. There were a number of speeches by congressional, state and local officials. The tone was light and easy. Sig gave the principal address and the people loved it. The hometown is a long way from a space center and they really enjoyed Sig’s recounting of some of our wins and some of our struggles. Eventually, we retired to Mom and Dads’ newly built home on top of the hill by the cemetery. We all sat out on the porch Dad loved so much. He had his flag flying on top of the flagpole he built for the yard. The time was mellow, smooth and happy.

The Flight Director ranks had been expanded in 1967 after Chris and then John Hodge withdrew from active console duties to focus on the overall management challenge of Apollo for all of the Flight Operations Directorate. Gerry Griffin, Pete Frank and Milt Windler were selected as new Flight Directors and worked their share of shifts leading up to Apollo XI. The rotation of new Flight Directors soon claimed the role of “lead’ Flight Director for upcoming flights – Gerry for Apollo XII, Milt for Apollo XIII and Pete for Apollo XIV. Gene was also in a new role as deputy division Chief of the Flight Control Division and was feeling the tug of more office duties and less of the single focus on console duties and related preparations. In early 1968, I became the Chief of the Flight Director’s office in the division. Jerry Bostick took the reins of the flight dynamics branch and Phil Shaffer moved to the deputy slot – a good move for the branch since Cliff and I were fully absorbed as Flight Directors. Still, it was emotional for me since I started the flight dynamics discipline a decade earlier and loved the branch esprit-de-corps.

When we came off Apollo XI and, after reveling in the celebration events in Los Angeles and in my hometown of Old Forge, more real changes continued. George Low moved to NASA HQ in Washington as the deputy administrator and Jim McDivitt became George’s replacement as the program manager of the Apollo Spacecraft Program (ASPO). Chris Kraft became the deputy Center Director in January 1970 on his way to becoming the eventual replacement for Bob Gilruth as Center Director. Sig Sjoberg would replace Chris as the chief of the Flight Operations Directorate.

Other major changes were evolving as the scientific exploration of the moon moved into higher gear. Scientific planning became the driver for landing site selection and the surface exploration scenarios. For later Apollos, the lunar module was being upgraded in order to enable longer lunar surface stays of up to three days and with a lunar rover to increase the territory to be explored. One of the longitudinal bays of the service module was being modified to carry a suite of science instruments, including a camera. This was aimed at conducting scientific surveys of the moon from lunar orbit, including photo documentation of the future landing sites.

NASA had apparently been keeping the science community somewhat at bay until we actually landed the first mission. It was a first-things-first approach. Still, Apollo XI had a detailed plan for the surface time with science goals, objectives and a priority system to guide the overall plan and each of the separate activities. But, compared to later missions, it was closer to a “land and grab” scenario, with the emphasis on “land.” Perhaps to assure that I understood the new reality of science guidance of surface and orbital exploration, Chris sent me to a meeting with a few from the Apollo spacecraft program office, the flight controllers who managed the surface experiments and some of the planning/execution team like me. We were meeting to listen to a room full of scientists and PhDs in the old West mansion on NASA road one, which was being used for lunar science planning when they were in Houston.

In a very real sense, they were as rambunctious and opinionated as we were, albeit on their science subjects. The meeting had the feeling of a well kicked hornet’s nest, leaving none of the little critters at rest. It went on for hours and had the clear flavor of “it is about time that you engineers got us to the moon, now get out of the way and we will tell you what we are going to do there – once we stop debating and arguing among ourselves.” I was there to listen and so I did. I do remember going back to see Chris that evening and reporting what I heard. My observation went something like, ”Who the hell are all these people and where were they when all the real work of Apollo (i.e. ours) was going on?” As it turned out, the meeting was a jolting introduction to a whole new community of Apollo supporters who were skillful and clever practitioners of the art of teasing out real knowledge from an array of instruments, observations and sample return investigations. People like Lee Silver and Bill Muehlberger soon impressed us. Traverse planning and execution became a discipline unto itself. Jack Sevier of ASPO became very adept at drawing out a systematic set of science goals, with a priority system, and planning specific timelines.

We were able to incorporate the usual backup schemes and mission rules in our “what if” planning. In a short period of time, our respective commitments to excellence in our complementary spheres of work were the ties that bound these communities together. We were soon poring over the lunar maps and listening to various theories about geologic formations on the moon. The high point for me was going on a field trip with Bill Muehlberger and the Apollo XV crew to a desert site in Arizona. Bill taught us (just like his students at UT) that there was so much more to observe than sand and rock – but also types, distribution, coloring and a dozen other features. I was intrigued with Bill’s discussion of blow holes (my term) bringing up material from deep in the Earth. Sometimes that material could include diamonds and a telltale green colored dirt was the signature for such a gift from Mother Nature. I still look for the green dirt signature today when I am in desert country.

The later lunar surface science would be planned around scientifically attractive and interesting sites, usually far away from a clear, flat surface – good for a landing but not as good for science. And this led to the need for more accurate landings – Apollo XI was about three miles long. As usual, Bill Tindall and his band of lunar navigation wizards were already on the job, developing tracking techniques coupled with navigation updates to actually perform pin-point landings. And we were going to test them out on Apollo XII by landing next to an unmanned Surveyor III spacecraft, which had landed on the moon back in April 1967. This capability would also allow us to bring back Surveyor hardware, which had been exposed to the lunar environment for over two years. But, it was the pinpoint landing which would enable much more productive lunar science expeditions. And so we moved our destination from the Sea of Tranquility on Apollo XI to the Surveyor III landing site in the Ocean of Storms on Apollo XII.

The preparations were completed and the day, November twelfth, for the launch countdown was at hand.

As lead Flight Director, Gerry set up the shift assignments for Pete, Cliff, me and himself. As customary, the lead Flight Director was on duty for the final count, the vehicle launch and the eventual injection onto the translunar trajectory. Because it was Gerry’s first time for ascent, I rode shotgun with him. (The role of riding shotgun was only occasionally done, but potentially helpful on ‘first time’ events. Because the shotgun role does not have to respond to all the communications, that operator can focus on assessing the total picture and even call attention to subjects which may be partially submerged in the flow of communication, deliberations and decisions. The shotgun position also provides another source of counsel or, more likely, just confirmation of decisions. The role is advisory and the operator on-duty is the decider.)

The crew of Apollo XII was ready. Pete Conrad had flown Gemini 5 with Gordo Cooper and later as commander of Gemini 11, with Dick Gordon who was now the CM pilot. Alan Bean rounded out the crew as the LM pilot. Pete was a superb test pilot and everybody on the team enjoyed working with him. He was an outgoing, engaging individual who could always see the humor in any situation. He was the natural “life of the party” without even trying. Alan describes how they spent a day testing their spacesuits and procedures in the altitude chamber. Spacesuits become pretty rigid and stiff when they are pressurized, almost like a suit of armor. Alan went on to recount the technical difficulties, the hard work and sweating to get through the all-day test. By the end, Alan said he was exhausted. After work, off they go to a gathering at somebody’s home and Pete begins to regale the company about all the humorous things that happened in the test and how much fun they had. To Alan, Pete seemed to be talking about some other day than the one he had. That was the way Pete saw the world.

This all-Navy crew headed to their ships, Yankee Clipper and Intrepid, on the pad on the morning of November 14, 1969, overcast, threatening and drizzling – a fine morning for a trip to the moon.

After the vehicle lifted off, it rose into the clouds and rain in a very short time. At about thirty seconds, a bright flash lit up the pad area. Pete reported the “loss of the guidance platform and everything in the world dropping out.” On board, the caution and warning panel lit up with red indicators. And “fuel cells disconnected from the main bus.” The entry batteries took up the load. Telemetry to the ground went off and was intermittent with not much at all on spacecraft systems. Soon, the quiet, steady voice of John Aaron at the EECOM console called, “Flight, SCE to AUX.” This was a call to go to another power path for the signal conditioning equipment (SCE) feeding the telemetry stream. But nobody in the MCC besides John had a clue as to where the switch was and what function it performed. Neither did the crew. In response to the call, their question was, “Where do I find it?” Such was the confidence in John that the questions were in the nature of how to execute his call. The Saturn V was being correctly guided by its own guidance equipment above the last stage, the SIVB. It continued to work just fine and MCC so informed the crew. The team knew that the inertial platform could be realigned once on orbit.

After the GO orbit was achieved, the platform was reset, and the MCC team with the crew went through a complete check of the launch vehicle and spacecraft. Chris Kraft came by to remind Gerry that, “We do not have to go to the moon today if things do not look well.” So noted, this was another way of Chris saying that I am in your corner if you, Gerry, have to make a “No-GO” call. As the time for the “GO/NO-GO” for translunar injection approached, Gerry and I looked at each other. The team had checked everything that we could and all was well. None of our mission rules were violated. If something had happened to the lunar module, we would find out later in due course and deal with it as necessary. No words – but we both shrugged at each other as if to say – there is no reason to stop. There is a planned time to visit the lunar module once on the translunar coast and that will permit a LM checkout before committing to lunar orbit. My shrug was just confirmation for Gerry. And soon, Gerry had the capcom report “GO for TLI” and the Yankee Clipper soon set sail for the Ocean of Storms.