Category Freedom 7

A modified and enhanced descendant of Nazi Germany’s deadly A-4/V-2 rocket, the Army’s Redstone missile was developed through the efforts of around 120 captured ex-Peenemunde rocket engineers who, along with their families, had been transferred to the Huntsville facility after undertaking related ordnance work at White Sands, New Mexico in 1950. The move to Huntsville was met with much enthusiasm, as the isola­tion and desert sparseness of White Sands was in stark contrast to the greenery they had known in Germany. Once settled at the recently formed Ordnance Guided Missile Center (OGMC), they would continue their design and development research under the erudite leadership of recently appointed technical director, Dr. Wernher von Braun. They would also be joined in their work by hundreds of other research personnel from White Sands, including contract employees with the General Electric Company and a number of Army draftees possessing degrees in math, science, and engineering.

The Redstone (tracing its name, like the Huntsville arsenal, to the red rocks and clay soil abundant in that region) had begun life as one of three tactical missiles of differing size and capabilities that were undergoing rapid development by the Army in

C. Burgess, Freedom 7: The Historic Flight of Alan B. Shepard, Jr., Springer Praxis Books, DOI 10.1007/978-3-319-01156-1_1, © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2014

order to deliver nuclear warheads. These missiles were designated the Corporal, Hermes A3, and Hermes C1.

In October 1950, Kaufman T. Keller, then president of the Detroit-based Chrysler Corporation, had been appointed by Secretary of Defense George C. Marshall to the part-time post of Director of Guided Missiles, with a full-time officer of the armed forces as his deputy. It was a new post within Marshall’s office, and he said at the time that Keller’s task was to provide him with “competent advice in order to permit me to direct and co-ordinate activities connected with research, development and production of guided missiles.” The creation of this office had been recommended to Marshall by the Secretaries of the Army, Navy, and Air Force. The Department of Defense said this step also had the approval of both the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Research and Development Board [1]. In this capacity, Keller agreed to a request from the Office of the Chief of Ordnance to accelerate the Hermes C1 program, handing primary respon­sibility for the tactical nuclear guided missile program to the OGMC of the Redstone Arsenal on 10 July 1951. The following year, on 8 April 1952, the Chief of Ordnance renamed it the Redstone missile.

On 24 March 1961 the weather conditions at Cape Canaveral were favorable for a liftoff that day from Launch Complex 5. The launch procedures had been arranged in a four-hour countdown that began at around 8:30 a. m. (EST). Liftoff had originally

been scheduled for 1:00 p. m., but this was advanced by half an hour at the request of the Atlantic Missile Range. The countdown would only involve procedures relative to the MR-5 Redstone booster, as the research and development capsule mounted on top was inert. Everything went smoothly, and the loading of the liquid oxygen began two hours prior to the scheduled launch time.

Including the spacecraft and its escape tower, the MR-BD vehicle stood 83.1 feet tall, and would have a total weight of 66,156 pounds at liftoff. Given the elongated fuel tank and enhanced performance of this Redstone variant, the more powerful but toxic Hydyne fuel was replaced by a mix of 75 percent ethyl alcohol and 25 percent water that would be combined, as previously, with liquid oxygen.

At 12:29:58 p. m. the MR-BD rocket lifted off the launch pad and booster cutoff occurred 141.7 seconds later. No thrust difficulties were encountered as the Redstone climbed to an altitude of 115 miles, attaining a maximum velocity of 5,123 miles an hour. After a flight lasting 8 minutes 23 seconds the entire assembly plunged into the Atlantic 311 miles downrange – almost exactly as planned. The area of impact was only 1.7 miles longer than planned, and less than 3 miles to the right of the envisaged

site. As the structure sank swiftly to the floor of the ocean, a SOFAR (sound fixing and ranging) bomb attached to the interior of the capsule automatically detonated at 3,500 feet. This device had been inserted at the request of the Navy for a checkout of its Broad Ocean Area (BOA) Missile Impact System.

All of the test objectives of the MR-BD mission were achieved, and a preliminary analysis of the flight data showed only slight deviations from the ideal performance. All systems functioned as planned and no problem areas were revealed.

“The engine performed perfectly,” Dr. Kurt Debus, NASA’s director of launch operations later explained. “It burned its prescribed time and did not cut off too soon, as on the previous launching.” Debus announced that if a careful analysis of all the post-flight data demonstrated that the Redstone had functioned smoothly, no further tests would be required and that an astronaut would be able to be launched within six weeks to fly approximately the same 15-minute course as had been traveled that day. “However,” he cautioned, “a close look at the tapes might reveal a slight flaw which could necessitate another test Redstone launching.” [15]

Other NASA officials warned against an over-optimistic timetable, emphasizing that a manned flight depended on several other factors. Mercury Operations Director Walter Williams, pointed out that, in particular, the capsule had to undergo further helicopter drop and flotation tests before an astronaut could ride it.

During the MR-3 countdown a number of planned communications checks had been conducted with Shepard on both UHF and HF radio. Then, two minutes prior to the planned liftoff time, the UHF radio was switched on and continuous communications were maintained between Shepard and Deke Slayton, serving as the CapCom in the Mercury Control Center. This ensured that the communications systems were fully operational at the time of launch. Shepard also received voice checks from astronauts Wally Schirra and Scott Carpenter, callsigns Chase One and Chase Two because they were circling the Cape at high level in their F-106 jets in order to follow the rapid progress of the Redstone as it ascended and headed downrange.

Within an hour of arriving on board the carrier, Shepard received a radiotelephone call from President Kennedy in the White House, who wanted to extend his personal congratulations:

Hello, Commander.

Yes, sir.

I want to congratulate you very much.

Thank you very much, Mr. President.

We watched you on TV of course [at launch] and we are awfully pleased and proud of what you did.

Well, thank-you, sir. As you know by now, everything worked just about perfectly and it was a very rewarding experience for me and the people who made it possible.

We are looking forward to seeing you up here, Commander.

Thank-you very much. I am looking forward to it, I assure you.

The members of the National Security Council are meeting on another mat­ter this morning and they all want me to give you their congratulations. Thank-you very much, sir, and I’m looking forward to meeting you in the near future.

Thank-you, Commander, and good luck.

At a press conference earlier that day, about 20 minutes after the safe recovery of Alan Shepard, the president issued a statement:

“All America rejoices in this successful flight of astronaut Shepard. This is an historic milestone in our own exploration into space. But America still needs to work with the utmost speed and vigor in the further development of our space program. Today’s flight should provide incentive to everyone in our nation con­cerned with this program to redouble their efforts in this vital field. Important scientific material has been obtained during this flight and this will be made available to the world’s scientific community.

“We extend special congratulations to astronaut Shepard and best wishes to his family who lived through this most difficult time with him. Our thanks also go to the other astronauts who worked so hard as a team in this project.” [46]

The president said at his press conference that a substantially larger effort would be made in the space program, and that Congress would be asked for an additional appro­priation. The request at that time was for 1.23 billion dollars, but he had earlier been advised that it would cost between 20 and 40 billion dollars to put a man on the Moon.

Whilst it should have been a joyous day for the president, with the first American astronaut safely back from space, he seemed to be anything but joyous at his press conference. He assured his audience that clearly he was happy about what had taken place, but he cited the tremendous courage and the accomplishment of Yuri Gagarin, and said that the United States was still a long way behind. Nevertheless, Shepard’s flight was just the tonic that America – and its leader – needed in order to overcome earlier disappointments and the frustrations that had been mounting since the Soviet orbiting of Gagarin and the Cuban Bay of Pigs fiasco the previous month, which was still causing immense grief and humiliation for the young, newly installed president.

Alexander Wiley of the Senate Aeronautical and Space Science Committee, was openly ecstatic, declaring, “I’m on a sort of emotional drunk.” Senator Karl Mundt, added that Alan Shepard ought to be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, say­ing that there were not enough words of praise for the bravery of the astronaut [47]. This, however, would have required a special act of Congress, so it was later decided to award him instead with NASA’s Distinguished Service Medal.[3]

I include as part of the flight period the time from insertion into the spacecraft on the launching pad until the time of recovery by the helicopter, The voice and operational procedures developed during the weeks preceding the launch were essentially sound.

The countdown went smoothly, and no major difficulties were encountered with the ground crews, the control-central crew, and the pilot. There has been some comment in the press about the length of time spent in the spacecraft prior to launch, some 4 hours 15 minutes to be exact. This period was about two hours longer than had been planned. A fact that is most encouraging is that during this time there was no significant change in pilot alertness and ability. The reassurance gained from this experience applies directly to our upcoming orbital flights, and we now approach them with greater confidence in the ability of the pilots, as well as in the environmental control systems.

Our plan was for the pilot to report to the blockhouse crew primarily prior to the T-2 minutes on hard wire circuits, and to shift control to the Center by use of radio frequencies at T-2 minutes. This shift worked smoothly and continuity of information to the pilot was good. At lift-off I started a clock timer in the spacecraft and prepared for noise and vibra­tion. I felt none of any serious consequence. The cockpit section experienced no vibration and I did not even have to turn up my radio receiver to full volume to hear the radio trans­missions. Radio communication was verified after lift-off, and then periodic transmissions were made at 30-second intervals for the purpose of maintaining voice contact and of reporting vital information to the ground.

Some roughness was expected during the period of transonic flight and of maximum dynamic pressure. These events occurred very close together on the flight, and there was general vibration associated with them. At one point some head vibration was observed. The degradation of vision associated with this vibration was not serious. There was a slight fuzzy appearance of the instrument needles. At T+1 minute 21 seconds I was able to observe and report the cabin pressure without difficulty. I accurately described the cabin pressure as “holding at 5.5 p. s.i. a.” The indications of the various needles on their respec­tive meters could be determined accurately at all times. We intend to alleviate the head vibration by providing more foam rubber for the head support and a more streamlined fairing for the spacecraft adapter ring. These modifications should take care of this prob­lem for future flights.

I had no other difficulty during powered flight. The training in acceleration on the cen­trifuge was valid, and I encountered no problem in respiration, observation, and reporting to the ground.

Rocket cutoff occurred at T+2 minutes 22 seconds at an acceleration of about 6 g. It was not abrupt enough to give me any problem and I was not aware of any uncomfortable sensation. I had one switch movement at this point which I made on schedule. Ten sec­onds later, the spacecraft separated from the launch vehicle, and I was aware of the noise of the separation rockets firing. In another 5 seconds the periscope had extended and the autopilot was controlling the turnaround to orbit attitude. Even though this test was only a ballistic flight, most of the spacecraft action and piloting techniques were executed with orbital flight in mind. I would like to make the point again that attitude control in space differs from that in conventional aircraft. There is a penalty for excessive use of the per­oxide fuel and we do not attempt to control continually all small rate motions. There is no aerodynamic damping in space to prevent attitude deviation, but neither is there any flight-path excursion or acceleration purely as a function of variation in spacecraft angles.

At this point in the flight I was scheduled to take control of the attitude (angular posi­tion) by use of the manual system. I made this manipulation one axis at a time, switching to pitch, yaw and roll in that order until I had full control of the craft. I used the instru­ments first and then the periscope as reference controls. The reaction of the spacecraft was very much like that obtained in the air-bearing trainer (ALFA trainer) described previously in the paper by Astronaut Slayton. The spacecraft movement was smooth and could be controlled precisely. Just prior to retrofiring, I used the periscope for general observation.

The particular camera orientation during my flight happened to include many clouds and is not as clear for land viewing. This photograph shows the contrast between land and water masses, the cloud cover and its effect, and a good view of the horizon. There appears to be a haze layer at the horizon. This haze is a function not only of particles of dust, moisture, and so forth, but also of light refraction through atmospheric layers. The sky itself is a very deep blue, almost black, because of the absolute lack of light-reflecting particles. We are encouraged that the periscope provides a good viewing device as well as a backup attitude-control indicator and navigation aid.

At about this point, as I have indicated publicly before, I realized that somebody would ask me about weightlessness. I use this example again because it is typical of the lack of anything upsetting during a weightless or zero-g environment. Movements, speech, and breathing are unimpaired and the entire sensation is most analogous to floating. The NASA intends, of course, to investigate this phenomenon during longer periods of time, but the astronauts approach these periods with no trepidation.

Control of attitude during retrofiring was maintained on the manual system and was within the limits expected. There was smooth transition from zero gravity to the thrust of the retrorocket and back to weightless flying again. After the retrorockets had been fired, the automatic sequence acted to jettison them. I could hear the noise and could see one of the straps falling away in view of the periscope. My signal light inside did not show proper indication so I used the manual backup control and the function indicated proper operation.

After retrorockets were jettisoned, I used a combination of manual and electric control to put the spacecraft in the reentry attitude. I then went back to autopilot control to allow myself freedom for some other actions. The autopilot control functioned properly so I made checks on the high frequency voice link for propagation characteristics and then returned to the primary UHF voice link. I also looked out both portholes to get a general look at the stars or planets as well to get oblique horizon views. Because of the sun angle and light levels I was unable to see any celestial bodies. The Mercury Project plans are to investigate these phenomena further on later flights.

At an altitude of about 200,000 feet, or at the edge of the sensible atmosphere, a relay was actuated at 0.05 g. I had intended to be on manual control for this portion of the flight but found myself a few seconds behind. I was able to switch to the manual system and make some controlling motions during this time. We feel that programming for this maneuver is not a serious problem and can be corrected by allowing a little more time prior to the maneuver to get ready. We were anxious to get our money’s worth out of the flight and consequently we had a full flight plan. However, it paid off in most cases as evidenced by the volume of data collected on pilot actions.

The reentry and its attendant acceleration pulse of 11 g was not unduly difficult. The functions of observation, motion, and reporting were maintained, and no respira­tion difficulties were encountered. Here again, the centrifuge training had provided good reference. I noticed no loss of peripheral vision, which is the first indication of “gray out.”

After the acceleration pulse I switched back to the autopilot. I got ready to observe parachute opening. At 21,000 feet the drogue parachute came out on schedule as did the periscope. I could see the drogue and its action through the periscope. There was no abrupt motion at drogue deployment. At 10,000 feet the main parachute came out and I was able to observe the entire operation through the periscope. I could see the streaming action as well as the unreefing action and could immediately assess the condition of the canopy. It looked good and the opening shock was smooth and welcome. I reported all of these events to the control center and then proceeded to get ready for landing.

I opened the faceplate of the helmet and disconnected the hose which supplies oxygen to its seal. I removed the chest strap and the knee restraint straps. I had the lap belt and shoulder harness still fastened. The landing did not seem any more severe than a catapult shot from an aircraft carrier. The spacecraft hit and then flopped on its side so that I was on my right side. I felt that I could immediately execute an underwater escape should it become necessary. Here again, our training period was giving us dividends. I could see the water covering one porthole. I could see the yellow dye marker out the other porthole and, later on, I could see one of the helicopters through the periscope.

The spacecraft righted itself slowly and I began to read the cockpit instruments for data purposes after impact. I found very little time for that since the helicopter was already call­ing me. I made an egress as shown in the training movie; that is, I sat on the edge of the door sill until the helicopter sling came my way…. The hoist itself was uneventful. At this point, I would like to mention a device that we use on our pressure suits that gives water­tight integrity. There is a soft rubber cone attached to the neck ring seal of the suit. When the suit helmet is on, this rubber is rolled and stowed below the lip of the neck ring seal bearing. With the helmet off, this collar or neck cone is rolled up over the bearing and against the neck of the pilot where it forms a watertight seal. The inlet valve fitting has a locking flapper valve. Thus the suit is waterproof and provides its own buoyancy.