Category Energiya-Buran

Nevertheless, Korolyov, a veteran of several rocket plane projects in the 1930s and 1940s, did not abandon the idea of winged piloted spaceflight. Outlining their ideas on the future of spaceflight in a joint letter to the government on 5 July 1958, Korolyov and his associate Mikhail Tikhonravov called for developing a manned space capsule in the 1958-1960 timeframe and then to design a manned vehicle “with a gliding return profile” in 1959-1965 [16].

Preoccupied with work on the R-7 rocket and the first satellites, Korolyov turned to a befriended aircraft designer to start preliminary research on a manned space – plane. This was Pavel V. Tsybin, who had got acquainted with Korolyov back in the early 1930s while building gliders. After leading research on the LL “flying labora­tories” in the late 1940s, Tsybin worked on missiles at N11-88 from 1949 to 1951 and subsequently became involved in the design of the air-launched Kometa anti-ship cruise missile at the Mikoyan design bureau. Finally, in May 1955 Tsybin was placed in charge of a newly founded design bureau called OKB-256, situated in Podberyozye, which in 1956 became part of the newly founded city of Dubna. Its primary assignment was to create the RS, a long-range bomber powered by super­sonic ramjet engines, although by mid-1956 the focus had shifted to a supersonic reconnaissance aircraft named RSR.

Sometime later, presumably in 1958, Korolyov proposed Tsybin to design a small winged spaceship that could be orbited by an R-7 based rocket. Tsybin’s team readily set to work, assisted by specialists from OKB-1. What they came up with was a vehicle called PKA (for “Gliding Space Apparatus’’), which because of its shape was also nicknamed Lapotok (“little bast shoe’’).

Having a launch mass of 3.5 tons, the one-man spaceplane was to be placed into a circular 300 km orbit by a Vostok rocket for missions lasting up to 24-27 hours. Built into the fuselage was a small pressurized cabin with a control panel, life support systems, and three windows, one of them for an astronavigation system. In case of a launch abort, the pilot could eject from the cabin up to an altitude of 10 km and in an emergency at higher altitudes the entire spaceplane would be separated from the rocket. Located behind the cabin was a pressurized instrument compartment with on-

orbit and re-entry support systems. The spaceplane also had a detachable engine compartment with two 2,350 kg thrust nitric acid/kerosene engines, one for on-orbit maneuvers and the other for the deorbit burn. Also on this compartment were an infrared vertical sensor and a thermal control system using radiators. The dry mass of the engine unit was 350 kg and the propellant mass at launch was 430 kg. For orientation in orbit and during the early stages of re-entry the ship used small hydrogen peroxide thrusters.

The deorbit, re-entry, and landing phase was to last up to 90 minutes. After the deorbit burn the engine compartment was to be separated at an altitude of 90 km. During re-entry the spaceplane’s steel fuselage was protected from the high tempera­tures by a heat shield consisting of a 100 mm thick organic silicon layer and a 70 mm thick fibre layer as well as by special air ducts to cool the outside structure. Places with maximum heat exposure such as the nose of the heat shield and the leading edges of the two elevons and the tail were to be cooled with the help of liquid lithium. During maximum heating the angle of attack was 55 to 60°. At an altitude of 20 km, having reduced its speed to 500-600 m/s, the PKA would deploy two wings with a span of 7.5 m and an area of 8.7 m2, which until then had remained folded back to protect them against the highest temperatures during re-entry. The spaceplane was to land on a dirt runway using a skid landing gear. Landing speed was 180-200 km/h and landing mass was 2.6 tons.

The preliminary design (“draft plan’’ in Russian terminology) for the PKA was officially approved by Tsybin on 17 May 1959 and the following day Korolyov sent a letter to the State Committee of Defense Technology (GKOT, the former Ministry of Armaments) with the request to include the spaceplane in its long-range plans and assign OKB-256 to the project as the lead organization [17]. However, wind tunnel tests conducted at the Central Aerohydrodynamics Institute (TsAGI) showed that the PKA would be exposed to much higher temperatures than expected (up to 1,500°C), requiring significant changes to the heat shield. Moreover, it turned out

that the use of liquid lithium to cool the hottest parts of the fuselage would make the design much heavier and more complex than anticipated [18].

Tsybin invited specialists of the All-Union Institute of Aviation Materials (VIAM) to deal with these issues, but by the end of 1959 clouds were gathering not only over the PKA, but over Tsybin’s design bureau as well. The RS supersonic strategic bomber had been canceled in the wake of the Soviet Union’s early ICBM successes and in October 1959 OKB-256 was absorbed by Myasishchev’s OKB-23. When OKB-23 in turn became a branch of Vladimir Chelomey’s OKB-52 in late I960, Tsybin returned to Korolyov’s OKB-1, where he would eventually go on to play an important role in the Energiya-Buran program and later in the design of single-stage-to-orbit spaceplanes [19].

Vladimir Myasishchev’s OKB-23 (situated in the Moscow suburb of Fili) was mainly engaged in the development of long-range strategic bombers, but branched out into cruise missiles with the M-40/Buran project in 1954-1957 and also did considerable research on spaceplanes even before Tsybin had started his PKA project. Unfortu­nately, most of the archival materials related to Myasishchev’s spaceplane projects have not been preserved, making it difficult to piece together their history. According to Russian historians Myasishchev, inspired by plans for the X-15 and US boost – glide concepts, began spaceplane research “on his own initiative’’ as early as 1956 under a program named Project 46. Also involved in the research were the NII-1 and NII-4 research institutes.

By 1957 he came to the conclusion it would be feasible in the short run to develop a reusable vehicle called a “satelloid’’ or “intercontinental rocket plane’’. Its primary goal would be to conduct strategic reconnaissance over enemy territory without the risk of being shot down by anti-aircraft defense means. Such missions would last 3 to 4 hours, with the spaceplane using radar and both optical and infrared photographic equipment to detect troop movements and spot enemy aircraft and missiles. Included

in the early warning network would be high-orbiting relay satellites. Later goals were to send vehicles of this type on bombing missions or to destroy enemy missiles and satellites. A reconnaissance version was expected to be ready by 1963 and a combined reconnaissance/bombing version was planned for 1964-1965. Myasishchev is said to have presented his ideas for spaceplanes during a visit to OKB-23 by Khrushchov in August 1958, but the Soviet leader was unimpressed, telling Myasishchev to stick to the field of aviation and leave rocket-related matters to others.

Undeterred by Khrushchov’s scepticism, OKB-23 pressed on with its spaceplane research. By April 1959 the bureau had worked out plans for a 10-ton rocket plane flying between altitudes of 80 and 150 km and capable of increasing orbital altitude by 100 km (to a maximum of 250 km) and changing orbital inclination by 3°. As Dyna-Soar, it was envisaged as a “boost-glide” system, being launched into orbit by a conventional ballistic rocket and then gliding back to a horizontal runway landing. The launch vehicle was to be an upgraded three-stage version of Korolyov’s R-7 missile. The third stage apparently consisted of four “boost engines’’ drawing propellant from four jettisonable tanks mounted on the spaceplane itself. In April 1960 Myasishchev revised his plans and was now aiming for a 6-ton vehicle flying in 600 km orbits and capable of performing inclination-changing maneuvers of as much

.

Meanwhile, OKB-23 was tasked with the development of another manned space vehicle by a government and party decree (nr. 1388-618) issued on 10 December 1959. This decree, considered to be the first macro-policy statement on the Soviet space program, encompassed a wide range of space projects. Myasishchev’s bureau in particular was assigned to develop a manned vehicle capable of ensuring “a reliable link’’ between the ground and “heavy satellites’’. Known as Project 48, this appears to have been an early version of a transportation system for space stations, although it was supposed to solve defense-related tasks as well. It was only the second piloted space project to be officially approved by a party/government decree after Vostok. Work on the project got underway after orders from the State Committee of Aviation Technology (GKAT) on 7 January and 4 March 1960.

48-2 spaceplane (reproduced from A. Bruk, 2001).

Weighing no more than 4.5 tons, the spacecraft was to be launched into a circular 400 km orbit by an R-7 based launch vehicle and stay in orbit anywhere from 5 to 27 hours. Re-entry through the atmosphere was to consist of a ballistic and a “controlled gliding” phase, reducing deceleration forces to no more than 3-4g. This required an aerodynamic shape providing at least some lift and ruled out a Vostok – type spherical design. Thermal protection was to be provided by ceramic tiles and/or by super-cold liquid metals circulating under the spacecraft’s skin.

Myasishchev’s team came up with four possible designs to meet these require­ments, each capable of carrying two men. Vehicle 48-1 (launch mass 4.5 tons) had a cone-shaped fuselage with highly swept delta wings (79°) and fins on the wings and fuselage to provide braking during re-entry. The crew cabin was located in the back. Both the fins and the glider’s engine compartment were to be jettisoned when the spaceplane had decelerated to a speed of Mach 5. Vehicle 48-2 (launch mass 4.3 tons) had a cylindrical fuselage with delta wings (leading edge sweepback of 65°) and small canards in the front. There were vertical tails both on top of and under the fuselage. The crew cabin was situated in the middle and the spaceplane was outfitted with a non-jettisonable engine compartment. The two other schemes envisaged a Mercury/ Gemini look-alike inverted cone with a rotor for a helicopter-type landing (48-3) and a conically shaped spacecraft for a parachute landing (48-4). Missions of the two-man ship were to be preceded by test flights of a single-seater spaceplane to demonstrate

the functioning of life support systems and test the “gliding re-entry” technique. The proposals were reviewed at a meeting of leading aviation specialists on 8 April I960, but no consensus was reached on the way to go forward.

There was yet another OKB-23 proposal for a single-seater spaceplane, which Myasishchev historians also link to Project 48, although it does not appear to have been the aforementioned one-man demonstration vehicle. It has been referred to as VKA-23 (VKA standing for “Aerospace Apparatus” and “23” referring to the name of the design bureau) and was the brainchild of OKB-23 designers L. Selyakov and G. Dermichov, who had originally presented it to NII-1 chief Mstislav Keldysh. Two versions of the delta-wing VKA-23 were studied between March and September 1960, one with a single fin at the rear (launch mass between 3.5 and 4.1 tons, length 9.4m) and one with two fins at the tips of the wings (launch mass between 3.6 and 4.5 tons, length 9.0 m).

The VKA-23 was to be launched either by an R-7 based rocket or a much more powerful rocket developed in-house under the so-called Project 47. In a launch emergency, the pilot could eject from the vehicle up to an altitude of 11 km, higher than that the entire vehicle would be separated from the rocket. The VKA-23 was supposed to borrow some elements from the Vostok spacecraft such as the Chayka orientation system and the Zarya communication system. Thermal protection was provided by ultra lightweight ceramic foam tiles very similar in shape to the ones later used by the US Space Shuttle and Buran. The leading edges of the wings were protected by a thick layer of siliconized graphite. A small turbojet engine was to give the ship extra maneuverability during re-entry. Just like the Vostok cosmonauts, the pilot was not supposed to land inside the ship, but eject at an altitude of about 8 km, with the spacecraft itself making an automatic landing on skids.

Although Project 48 had received the official nod with the party/government decree of December 1959, it was no longer mentioned in an even bigger space decree released on 23 June 1960. Actually, OKB-23 was counting its final days, falling victim to Khrushchov’s policy of downsizing aviation in favor of missiles. In October 1960 Myasishchev’s design bureau became Branch Nr. 1 of the OKB-52 design bureau of Vladimir Chelomey and was assigned to various missile, rocket, and spacecraft projects. Myasishchev was named head of TsAGI, but in 1967 was placed in charge of the EMZ design bureau, which would go on to play a vital role in the Buran program [20].

Energiya-Buran is the most powerful space vehicle the world has ever seen, and, had it been given the chance to fully develop, it would have been of great benefit to the people of the Soviet Union and, indeed, the world. It didn’t get that chance, but the political and to some extent economical situation were not ideal.

I had the honor of being selected as the lead test-pilot for Buran. As such, I flew Buran’s analog BTS-002 on 12 occasions in the program that tested the atmospheric portion of Buran missions. The team from the Flight Research Institute named after M. M. Gromov consisted of some of the best test-pilots in the Soviet Union. Two pilots from this select group, Anatoliy Levchenko and I, flew in space on a Soyuz spacecraft as part of our preparations to test Buran in orbit. But, after one unmanned flight and before we had the chance to fly Buran ourselves, the program was canceled.

Buran still speaks to the imagination of the people in Russia and many take pride to have participated in the program, even though it never resulted in even one manned mission in space. At the Baykonur Cosmodrome, a model of Buran can be seen at the main gate one passes when coming from the airport. Engineers and technicians who worked on the program and have since passed away even have Buran etched on their headstones.

It is heart-warming to see that, even outside Russia, Buran still lives and I am happy to see that the authors of this book have managed to write an authoritative history on Energiya and Buran, using original Soviet and Russian sources. I sincerely hope that this book will further spread the knowledge of a program that might have yielded enormous economical profit to the world, had it been given the chance.

Igor Petrovich Volk Hero of the Soviet Union Merited Test Pilot

Pilot-Cosmonaut of the Soviet Union

This book is about the Energiya-Buran system, the Soviet equivalent of the US Space Shuttle. Originally conceived in 1976, Buran made its one and only flight in November 1988, more than seven years after the inaugural flight of the Space Shuttle. Prudent as the Soviet authorities were, it was conducted in an unmanned mode, a feat not accomplished by NASA in the Space Shuttle program.

Buran was not unique for being a manned spaceflight project that eventually would never carry a man into orbit. There were other Soviet programs that had suffered the same fate, such as the L-1/L-3 lunar program, and the military space station ferry TKS. Unlike these, however, from its conception Buran was a spacecraft without a clearly defined task. It was solely designed and built in response to the Space Shuttle, whose military potential was a source of major concern to the Soviet Union. Unsure what exactly the threat was, the Russians decided to build a vehicle matching the Shuttle’s capabilities to have a deterrent in the long run. From the Russian per­spective, Buran was just another product of the arms race between the superpowers.

The orbiter resembled its American counterpart to the point that they were aerodynamic twins, but there were important differences between the two systems as well. The most notable one was that Buran did not have main engines and was carried into orbit by a powerful launch vehicle (Energiya) that could be adapted for other missions as well. Despite the copying that unquestionably took place, the Russians still had to develop the technology, the materials, and the infrastructure all by themselves and in doing so often followed their own, unique approach. Building upon the lessons learned from their star-crossed manned lunar program, they brought the project to a state of maturity that allowed them to fly two successful launches of the Energiya rocket and one of the Buran orbiter. This was a remarkable feat, irrespective of whether the expenditures were justified or not.

After the maiden Buran flight in 1988, plans were drawn up for another mission in which the orbiter would again go up and land unmanned, although this time it would be briefly boarded in orbit by a visiting Soyuz crew. Only after the second mission had

proven the system to be reliable, would a crew have been allowed to be launched on board the orbiter.

Unfortunately, it would never come to that. As the Cold War drew to a close and the Soviet Union collapsed, the program largely lost its raison d’etre. In a time where funds allocated to large space undertakings were getting scarcer and scarcer, here was a program that was devouring more and more of that money. Slowly but surely, more and more space program officials began to oppose Buran, emphasizing that all this money was disappearing into a bottomless pit, without anyone being able to give a clear answer to that one question: what do we need Buran for?

Finally, the program died a silent death. It was never officially terminated by a government decree, but those who were involved knew the signs. The cosmonauts who had been training for the manned missions began returning to test flying in their respective institutes, transferred to the Soyuz and Mir program, or tried their luck in private industry.

Hardware was scrapped, stored, or offered for sale. The full-scale test model used for the approach and landing tests was sent to Sydney, where it was put on display. Later it was to be shipped to a museum in Germany, but didn’t make it beyond a junkyard in Bahrain, where it still sits at the time of writing.

Another full-scale test model ended up as a tourist attraction in Gorkiy Park in Moscow, while a third has been parked outdoors at Baykonur for several years, where it has been left exposed to the elements. The only Buran orbiter that flew in space was put in storage in the Energiya assembly building, but was totally destroyed when the building’s roof collapsed in May 2002.

In spite of the sad fates of these Buran orbiters, the program was a source of great pride for everyone who participated in it, from engineers to prospective cosmonauts. In many places models of the orbiter, or the entire vehicle, were erected, sometimes as monuments, sometimes just to embellish the streets in which they stand. As Buran’s lead test pilot Igor Volk says in his foreword and as maybe the ultimate sign of pride, many who were involved in it have the vehicle etched on their gravestones.

Despite cancellation of the project, the technology developed for it has not all disappeared down the drain. The rocket engine of Energiya’s strap-on boosters is still being used today by the Zenit rocket and its Sea Launch version and scaled-down versions of the engine currently power the first stage of America’s Atlas rockets and will also be employed in a new family of Russian launch vehicles called Angara. The docking hardware originally developed for Buran was used in the Shuttle/Mir pro­gram and is now actively used on the International Space Station.

Perhaps Buran was born under an unlucky star, but since the programm ended those who designed and built it have gone to a lot of trouble to make sure that the Soviet/Russian counterpart to the US Space Shuttle will be remembered as a state-of – the-art spaceship that was launched by one of the most powerful launch vehicles the world has ever seen. With this book, we hope we can contribute to that endeavor.

Bart Hendrickx

Mortsel

Belgium

This book is a cooperative effort by two authors, but would probably not have come about without the initiative of David Shayler, who originally came up with the idea to write the book but in the end could not participate in it due to other commitments.

Of particular help in preparing the book were several people who were either directly or indirectly involved in the Energiya-Buran program. Thanks are extended to Buran lead test pilot Igor Volk for his foreword and also to the numerous other Buran test pilots who granted interviews to Bert Vis during his countless travels to Star City, Zhukovskiy, and other locations. Lida Shkorkina was instrumental in arranging many of those interviews and also acted as interpreter during most of them. Thanks are also due to Emil Popov, a veteran of the Military Industrial Commission, who shared recollections of the meetings and discussions in the early 1970s that eventually led to the decision to go ahead with Buran. Nina Gubanova, the widow of Energiya – Buran chief designer Boris Gubanov, provided an original copy of her husband’s hard-to-obtain memoirs.

Our special thanks also go to those who gave the authors access to some rare primary documents, most of them from the archives of the late Ernest Vaskevich, who headed the coordination and planning department of the Departmental Training Complex for Cosmonaut-Testers (OKPKI) in Zhukovskiy, which acted as the Flight Research Institute’s own cosmonaut training center. Many of those documents offer unique insight into the training program of the Buran test pilots as well as crewing issues and flight plans.

The authors also wish to thank several researchers who supported them while writing the book. First and foremost among those is Vadim Lukashevich, the web­master of the www. buran. ru website and without doubt Russia’s leading expert on the history of Buran. Vadim never got tired of answering the authors’ frequent and challenging questions and also kindly granted permission to use many of the pictures and illustrations on his website and CD-ROMs. The book would not have been what it is without his dedication, advice, and continued support.

Appreciation is also due to the staff of the unrivaled Russian space magazine Novosti kosmonavtiki, whose tireless efforts to unravel the mysteries of Soviet space history were a great source of help and inspiration in writing the book. Asif Siddiqi, the highly respected American authority on Soviet/Russian space history, was always willing to help and share information from his rich archives. Chris van den Berg, who has been patiently monitoring Soviet/Russian space-to-ground communications for over 40 years, assisted the authors in making sense of Buran’s communication systems. Peter Pesavento provided valuable information on US intelligence assess­ments of the Soviet shuttle program. Rex Hall granted access to his archives and helped with his knowledge of the Soviet/Russian space program.

Several people kindly allowed the authors to select pictures from their photo collections, including Igor Afanasyev, Edwin Neal Cameron, Sergey Grachov, Vadim Lukashevich, Igor Marinin, Timofey Prygichev, Asif Siddiqi, Rudolf van Beest, Luc van den Abeelen, and Simon Vaughan. Dennis Hassfeld was kind enough to make several line drawings based on original Russian sketches.

We thank Clive Horwood of Praxis for his continued support and Neil and Bruce Shuttlewood of Originator Publishing Services for copy editing and generation of proofs.

Last but not least, the authors wish to extend a special word of thanks to their relatives, who put up with them during two years of painstaking and time-consuming research.

When Buran swooped down to a safe landing on its Baykonur runway on 15 Novem­ber 1988, it marked the culmination of more than just the 12 years needed to take it to the launch pad since its official approval by a Soviet government and Communist Party decree in February 1976. Even by the start of the Buran program the Soviet Union possessed a rich database on high-speed aeronautics, gradually accumulated through four decades of work on rocket-propelled aircraft, intercontinental cruise missiles and smaller spaceplanes.

THE FATHER OF SOVIET SPACEPLANES

The first man in the Soviet Union to widely advocate the idea of winged spacecraft was Fridrikh Tsander. Born in 1887 in the Latvian capital Riga into an intellectual German family, Tsander became obsessed with the idea of space travel around the age of 20 and was one of the Soviet Union’s most prominent popularizers of space exploration in the 1920s (with one of his lectures attended by Lenin himself in December 1920). Although inspired by the work of great spaceflight theoreticians like his compatriot Konstantin E. Tsiolkovskiy and the German Hermann Oberth, Tsander was convinced that the most practical way of reaching other planets was not with powerful and expensive rockets, but with winged vehicles. Tsander outlined his ideas in the journal Tekhnika і zhizn in 1924 in an article called “Flights to Other Planets’’, openly taking issue with the ideas of Oberth and Tsiolkovskiy:

“For flight to the upper layers of the atmosphere and also for landing on planets possessing an atmosphere, it will be advantageous to use an aeroplane as a construction keeping the interplanetary ship in the atmosphere. Aeroplanes, having the capability of conducting a gliding descent in case of an engine

shutdown, are far superior to parachutes, proposed for the return to Earth by Oberth in his book “Rocket to the Planets”.

Parachutes do not offer the possibility of freely choosing a landing site or continuing the flight in case of a temporary engine shutdown, and therefore it would be advisable to use them only for flights without people. The part of the rocket that is operated by a man, should be equipped with an aeroplane. For descending to a planet having sufficient atmosphere, using a rocket, as proposed by K. E. Tsiolkovskiy, will also be less advantageous than using a glider or an aeroplane with an engine, because a rocket consumes much fuel during the descent and its descent will cost, even if there is only one person in the rocket, tens of thousands of rubles, whereas descending with an aeroplane costs only several tens of rubles, and with a glider, nothing at all.”

In this and other works Tsander expounded on the design of an interplanetary spaceplane that would reach space by using a combination of propeller, jet, and rocket engines. As the atmosphere got thinner, unneeded metallic components would move into a boiler to be melted into more rocket fuel. For propulsion during the interplanetary cruise, Tsander proposed screens or mirrors driven by solar light, early precursors of today’s solar sails.

Tsander did more than just generate fancy ideas. He set about turning his ideas into practice in the late 1920s with the development of an experimental rocket engine called the OR-1. In the autumn of 1931 Tsander took the initiative to establish an amateur group to study the practical aspects of rocketry and space exploration. Called the Group for the Investigation of Reactive Motion (GIRD), one of its four sections aimed to install rocket engines on gliders and thereby create a high-altitude aircraft, an idea promoted by the young engineer Sergey P. Korolyov. The engine to be used initially would be Tsander’s OR-2. Generating 50 kg of thrust, it used gasoline and liquid oxygen as propellants and had sophisticated features such as regenerative cooling of the combustion chamber using gaseous oxygen, a nozzle­cooling system using water, and a pressure feed system using nitrogen.

In early 1932 a decision was made to put the OR-2 on the BICH-11 flying wing glider. The resulting rocket plane, called RP-1, would be a modest machine, capable of developing a speed of 140 km/h, reaching an altitude of 1.5 km, and staying in the air for just about 7 minutes. However, GIRD had plans for more sophisticated rocket planes, including the RP-3, a two-man plane using a combination of piston and rocket engines to reach altitudes of 10-12 km [1].

While development of the engine got underway, Korolyov himself made several unpowered test flights of the BICH-11 to test its flying characteristics. Before tests of the engine got underway, the overworked and frail Tsander was sent to a sanatorium in the Caucasus, but contracted typhoid fever on the way and passed away on 28 March 1933 at the age of 45. His infectious enthusiasm was surely missed by the GIRD team. Korolyov’s daughter would later describe Tsander as an “adult child’’ in everyday affairs, but the “highest authority’’ in rocket matters [2]. One cannot even begin to imagine what further contributions this man could have made to Soviet rocketry had he not died such an untimely death.

Tests of the OR-2 engine in 1933 proved unsatisfactory and attempts to replace the gasoline by ethanol to facilitate cooling did not produce the expected results either. Modifying the glider to carry a rocket engine also turned out to be more difficult than expected, with one of the requirements being to drop the fuel tanks in flight to increase safety. Before the RP-1 ever had a chance to make a powered flight, GIRD was forced to change direction.

Another organization involved in rocket research in the Soviet Union was the Gas Dynamics Laboratory (GDL) in Leningrad. Established in 1921, it was mainly engaged in developing solid-fuel rockets for arming aircraft or assisting aircraft during take-off. In 1929 a small subdivision was added, headed by 20-year-old Valentin P. Glushko, to conduct research on electric and liquid-propellant engines. While the GIRD members were mainly driven by utopian visions of space travel, the GDL team primarily consisted of military-oriented rocketeers and received its modest funding directly from the military.

In 1932 the Red Army Chief of Staff Marshal Mikhail Tukhachevskiy, convinced that the Soviet Union needed modern technology to arm itself against the forces of capitalism, proposed to unite GIRD and GDL into a single institute to develop both solid and liquid-fuel rockets for the military. After many months of negotiations, the new organization, called the Reactive Scientific Research Institute (RNII) was founded in September 1933. Placed in charge of RNII was GDL’s Ivan Kleymyonov, with GIRD’s Sergey Korolyov acting as his deputy.

The different backgrounds of the two organizations soon led to internal conflicts about the future direction of the new institute. Many of these centered around the types of propellants to be used. While the GDL faction favored solid propellants or storable liquid propellants, the former GIRD team promoted engines burning liquid oxygen. Also, Korolyov was hoping to continue work on rocket planes capable of reaching the stratosphere, but this was of little interest to Kleymyonov, who saw the development of military missiles as the institute’s main objective. These and other disagreements caused Korolyov to be demoted to work as a chief engineer in the section for winged missiles in early 1934.

Winged missiles offered several advantages over ballistic missiles in destroying both mobile and stationary targets. Their flight path could be controlled after shut­down of the engines and they could cover much larger distances thanks to the extra lift provided by the wings, thereby compensating for the absence of powerful rocket engines in those days [3]. However, for Korolyov they also provided an opportunity to covertly pursue his dream of achieving manned stratospheric flight.

Ever since the work on the RP-1 rocket plane, Korolyov had become increasingly convinced that it would be difficult to turn existing aircraft or gliders into efficient rocket planes. Neither was the time ripe to put men aboard ballistic missiles. What was needed instead was a new type of winged machine capable of withstanding higher acceleration forces and fitted with low-aspect-ratio wings, a tail section, and a long fuselage to house the propellant tanks. Although the winged missiles tested at RNII in the 1930s were officially seen as precursors to surface-to-air and air-to-surface missiles, Korolyov developed many of them with the goal of manned stratospheric flight in the back of his mind.

At a conference on the use of rockets to explore the stratosphere in March 1935, Korolyov went public with his ideas to build manned winged missiles that could reach altitudes of up to 20-30 km, emphasizing the need to build “flying laboratories” that would pave the way for such vehicles. Apparently, by late 1935 Kleymyonov was impressed enough to include studies of rocket planes in the RNII’s plans for 1936. By early 1936 Korolyov had drawn up a step-by-step plan calling for the development of ever more capable piloted rocket planes. The first of these (218, later renamed 318), powered by either a solid-fuel or liquid-fuel rocket engine, would reach an altitude of 25 km and be flown by two pilots wearing pressure suits. The ultimate goal was to push the ceiling to a phenomenal 53 km [4].

The rocket engines needed for such planes were not yet available, but Korolyov got approval to build an experimental rocket plane based on his SK-9 glider, which he had probably built with that idea in mind. The rocket plane was initially called RP-218-1 and later renamed RP-318-1 after a reorganization within RNII. The engine selected to power the plane was Glushko’s ORM-65, a nitric acid/kerosene engine capable of generating between 50 and 175 kg of thrust and already under development for the 212 winged missile.

The goals formulated by Korolyov for the rocket plane program in early 1936 were “to achieve a record altitude and speed’’ and “to obtain the first practical experience in solving the problem of piloted rocket flight’’ [5]. To him personally, it was probably the first step on the long road to manned space travel, but Korolyov

was well aware that this would not be enough to receive continued support for the program. As he would have to do more than once in his later rocket and space career, he had to justify his efforts by coming up with military applications. In a study requested by Korolyov, the Zhukovskiy Air Force Academy concluded in 1937 that, despite the limited operating time of the rocket engine, rocket planes could play a vital role as fighters [6]. Their main task would be to intercept enemy bombers. With the development of jet engines in an embryonic stage, rocket engines would be the only practical way of significantly increasing speed in the near future.

After an exhaustive series of tests, the ORM-65 was installed in the SK-9 in September 1937 and began a series of integrated test firings in December 1937. Korolyov was intent on piloting the RP-318-1 himself, going down in history as the first man to fly a rocket plane. However, by this time Stalin’s purges were beginning to sweep through the ranks of RNII (renamed NII-3 in 1937). Tukhachevskiy, Kleymyonov, and his deputy Langemak were executed in January 1938, and Glushko and Korolyov were arrested on trumped-up charges in March and June 1938, disappearing into the Soviet prison system for the following six years.

Work on the RP-318-1 was not resumed until the end of the year under the leadership of A. Shcherbakov. The ORM-65 was replaced by a somewhat simplified but more reliable version called the RDA-1-150 with a thrust of between 50 and 146 kg, developed by Glushko’s successor Leonid Dushkin. After being installed in the plane, it underwent a series of more than 100 test firings between February and October 1939.

In November 1939 the RP-318-1 was transported to an aerodrome in the out­skirts of Moscow, where after several more test firings of the rocket engine it made its first historic flight on 28 February 1940. Piloted by Vladimir Fyodorov, the 675 kg and 7.9 m long rocket plane was towed into the air by an R-5 airplane and released at an altitude of 2.8 km. After gliding down to an altitude of 2.6 km, Fyodorov ignited

the RDA-1-150 engine, which burned for 110 seconds, accelerating the plane from 80 to 140 km/h and taking it to an altitude of 2.9 km. There were two more flights on 10 and 19 March 1940. If it hadn’t been for the delays caused by the repression in the late 1930s, the RP-318-1 might very well have become the world’s first aircraft propelled by a liquid-fuel rocket engine. In the event that distinction went to the German Heinkel He-176, which made its maiden flight on 20 June 1939 using a rocket engine fueled by hydrogen peroxide.

With the threat of a German invasion looming, there was increasing interest in the use of rocket-propelled aircraft to improve combat efficiency. On the one hand, dedicated rocket-propelled fighters could use such engines to quickly intercept enemy bombers as soon as they appeared over the horizon and then immediately glide back to the runway, completing their mission in a matter of minutes. On the other hand, rocket engines could also be installed on existing aircraft in addition to the traditional piston engines to either assist in take-off or abruptly increase speed during flight to overtake or evade enemy aircraft. Any utopian visions of space travel quickly faded into the background. However, the World War II rocket planes provided further experience in the field of piloted rocket flight and gave the Soviets an opportunity to continue work on rocket engines, no matter how modest their performance was in comparison with the powerful rocket engines concurrently under development in Germany for the A-4 (“V-2”) missile.