Category Salyut – The First Space Station

The post-mortems were conducted in the Burdenko Military Hospital in Moscow by 17 physicians. All three cosmonauts had suffered brain haemorrhages, subcutaneous bleeding, damaged ear-drums and bleeding of the middle ear. Nitrogen was absent from the blood; it, together with oxygen and carbon dioxide, had boiled and reached the heart and brain in the form of bubbles. The formation of gas in the blood was a symptom of rapid depressurisation. The blood of all three men contained enormous amounts of lactic acid, fully ten times the norm, which was an indication of terrible emotional stress and anoxia.

On Thursday, 1 July, the bodies of the cosmonauts were delivered to the Central House of the Soviet Army on Spaskiy Street, where they were laid in open coffins on a catafalque with sombre drapes and multicoloured military banners. Garlands and wreaths were arranged around the coffins. Dobrovolskiy was the nearest to the entrance, Volkov was in the middle and Patsayev was furthest. All three had been dressed in dark civilian suits and bore on their chests Gold Stars to signify that they were Heroes of the Soviet Union. Dobrovolskiy and Patsayev had been awarded the nation’s top honour posthumously, and Volkov, who had already received one after his first space flight in 1969, gained a second star.

The only one to display any sign of an injury was Patsayev, who had a dark mark similar to a bruise covering most of his right cheek. Dobrovolskiy and Volkov were said by journalists to look uninjured. But for General Kamanin, who was himself in a state of deep shock, only Volkov looked “as alive’’; the faces of Dobrovolskiy and Patsayev were “almost unrecognisable”.

In the eight hours in which the cosmonauts were on display, tens of thousands of people filed past to pay their respects. Among them were the First Secretary of the Communist Party Leonid Brezhnyev, Premier Aleksey Kosygin, President Nikolay Podgorny, members of the Politburo, senior members of the military, academicians, spacecraft designers and cosmonauts, and foreign leaders and ambassadors. The three-man military guard of honour was exchanged every three minutes. For a time they were joined by members of the cosmonaut corps.

The family mourners were in the front part of the room: Lyudmila Dobrovolskiy with daughters Marina (12) and Nataliya (4); Lyudmila Volkova with son Vladimir (13); and Vera Patsayeva with son Dmitriy (14) and daughter Svetlana (9). With them stood Valentina Teryeshkova, who been the person who informed them of the tragedy. Behind, in black suits, were the cosmonauts’ parents: Mariya and Timofey Dobrovolskiy, Olga and Nikolay Volkov, and Mariya Patsayeva, together with their siblings. After several minutes spent standing in silent tribute, Brezhnyev and his colleagues went to the families to express their personal condolences. At one point, Brezhnyev covered his face with his hand and started to cry.

An emotional farewell to the Soyuz 11 crew. Top: Patsayev (left), Volkov (centre) and Dobrovolskiy (right) lie in state in the Central House of the Soviet Army. Middle: Party and government leaders form a guard of honour. Bottom left: Cosmonaut Teryeshkova presents Brezhnyev and Kosygin to the mourners. Bottom centre: Brezhnyev covers his face in grief. Bottom right: Of the three cosmonauts, only Patsayev showed any visible sign of injury, in the form of a dark mark covering most of his right cheek.

At 10 p. m. the Central Army House was closed to the public. At 1 a. m. on 2 July the bodies were cremated. At 10 a. m. the urns containing the ashes were returned to the hall, and for two hours the room was reopened to the public.

Shortly before noon, the American astronaut Colonel Thomas P. Stafford arrived in Moscow to attend the funeral as President Nixon’s representative. He flew there from Belgrade, where, with cosmonaut Pavel Popovich, he had been attending an exhibition entitled Space for Peace. “Before I reached Belgrade, I heard the news that the Soyuz 11 crew had died on their return to Earth. My first worry was that the stress of a long-duration flight had killed them, and I wondered what it would mean to our Skylab crews.’’ The call from the American embassy in Belgrade to urgently pack his bags and travel to Moscow came as a surprise. When Komarov was killed in 1967 Washington had asked to send astronauts Alan Shepard and Frank Borman to the funeral, but the request had been refused. On landing in Moscow Stafford rode with cosmonaut Beregovoy, his host, to the Central Army House, where he paid his respects. While there, he was introduced to Aleksey Leonov, unaware that Leonov was the original commander for the Soyuz 11 mission.[102]

Colonel Popovich had also returned to attend the funeral. He had hastily called the Space for Peace organiser to explain why he must curtail his visit: “The guys have died! This weightlessness will kill all of us.’’

At noon the Central Army House was closed to the public, in order to enable the family mourners, close friends and members of the cosmonaut corps to prepare for the procession to Red Square. Each urn was decorated with a large looped garland and mounted on a rectangular metal cradle that had two long carrying handles. The urns were taken to individual carriages that were drawn by armoured cars. The pallbearers for Dobrovolskiy’s urn included Leonov, Shatalov, Nikolayev and Stafford.

As the cortege made its way slowly to Red Square with the carriages side by side, military officers walked ahead, some with portraits of Dobrovolskiy, Volkov and Patsayev and others carrying cushions bearing their decorations. A guard of honour marched alongside. And Brezhnyev, Kosygin, Podgorny, members of the Politburo and the government, friends, relatives and other cosmonauts followed behind with the mourners. An accompanying military band played solemn music. The route had been closed to normal traffic. Despite the hot and humid day, hundreds of thousands of people stood in line. Buildings along the route flew their flags at half-mast and displayed black-framed pictures of the dead cosmonauts.

As the procession turned into the cobbled Red Square, thousands of people stood behind barricades around its periphery to observe the final farewell in front of the Lenin Mausoleum. The party on the reviewing platform included national leaders and senior military officers.

The main speech was read by Andrey Kirilenko, a member of the Politburo and head of the State Funeral Commission which was formed on the day of the tragedy, whose membership included Ustinov, Smirnov, Afanasyev, Keldysh and Shatalov.

Pallbearers carry the urn with Dobrovolskiy’s ashes. On the near side are Leonov and Stafford. Cosmonauts Nikolayev and Popovich are partially visible behind Stafford. On the opposite side, are Kirilenko and Shatalov. (Courtesy NASA)

In addition, he was the coordinator of the special commission created to investigate why the cosmonauts had died.

“Together with the entire Soviet people and our friends abroad,’’ Kirilenko began, “the Central Committee of the Party, the Presidium of the USSR, and the Soviet government deeply mourn the loss that befell our country. . . . To the last second of their lives Georgiy Dobrovolskiy, Vladislav Volkov and Viktor Patsayev stayed at the controls of their ship. They died at their post – as heroes die. They were full of vigour, fully confident of fulfilling the assignment from the Party and the people. And they fulfilled that assignment. The results of their observations are

priceless for science, for the future of cosmonautics, for mankind. … It wasn’t idle curiosity that drew them into space, but the need to unravel more and more of the mysteries of the universe for the good of men. We will continue this difficult but necessary work.’’

Mstislav Keldysh, the head of the Academy of Sciences, was the second orator. He agreed that the Soyuz 11 mission had been a major step in the development of Soviet cosmonautics: “The Salyut-Soyuz 11 flight heralds the start of a new stage in exploring outer space, namely using long-term orbital stations in near-Earth orbits.’’

Generals Nikolayev and Shatalov represented the cosmonaut corps. Shatalov read an open letter written by their colleagues: “We know that our road is a difficult and thorny one but we do not doubt the correctness of our choice, and are always ready for the most difficult flight. . . . We express our firm confidence that what occurred must not halt ongoing development and perfection of space engineering and man’s striving for space. . . . Today, we pay a final tribute to our talented and courageous comrades, but there is not just grief in our hearts, there is also pride in what they did for their country in space.’’

Finally the urns were taken behind the Lenin Mausoleum to the Kremlin’s wall, to be interred alongside those bearing the ashes of cosmonauts Vladimir Komarov and Yuriy Gagarin. As the urns were inserted into their niches, cannons fired in salute. Each niche was sealed with a black plate that bore the name of the cosmonaut and the dates of his birth and death. Their photographs and decorations were placed on pedestals alongside, and the families and friends moved in to pay their final respects.

The whole world shared the grief. The Soviet newspapers were full of tributes and messages of condolence from foreign leaders. Among many who sent messages of sympathy to the Soviet people were Queen Elizabeth II, the Pope, Presidents Nixon and Pompidou and Premiers Chou En-lai and Indira Gandhi.

In a letter to Podgorny the Queen wrote: “My husband and I were shocked to hear of the deaths of your three cosmonauts. We extend our sincerest sympathy to you and to the Soviet people on the occasion of the sad loss of these intrepid men.’’

On behalf of the United States, President Nixon wrote to the Soviet leaders: “The American people join in expressing to you and the Soviet people our deepest sympathy on the tragic deaths of the three Soviet cosmonauts. The whole world followed the exploits of these courageous explorers of the unknown and shares the anguish of their loss. But the achievements of cosmonauts Dobrovolskiy, Volkov and Patsayev remain. It will, I am certain, prove to have contributed greatly to the further achievements of the Soviet programme for the exploration of space and thus to the widening of man’s horizons.’’

President Pompidou wrote: “All Frenchmen, like me, admired their extraordinary exploits.’’

In the Vatican, Pope Paul interrupted a general audience to announce the deaths. He expressed sadness for “this unexpected and tragic epilogue’’, and offered prayers to the families of the three men.

The Chinese Prime Minister Chou En-lai sent a telegram to express sympathy to the Soviet people for their “deep grief” over the deaths of the cosmonauts, and to “convey heartfelt condolences to the bereaved families’’.

Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi said that the three men had “died as heroes on behalf of science. Their achievement in the exploration of space [was a major] contribution to progress.’’

In the wake of the successful Apollo 11 lunar landing, NASA and the Soviets had begun to consider the possibility of a joint manned space mission. In January 1971 George Low, NASA’s Deputy Director, had led a group of specialists on a visit to Moscow to explore the options, and they met several cosmonauts. Low now sent a letter of condolence.

Valentina Teryeshkova comforts Dobrovolskiy’s daughter Marina at the wall of the Kremlin. Dobrovolskiy’s mother Mariya stands in the background together with cosmonauts Feoktistov (with glasses) and Gorbatko. (Courtesy Peter Pesavento)

Patsayev’s family (left to right): daughter Svetlana, wife Vera and son Dmitriy. Behind is Viktor’s mother Mariya. (Copyright Svetlana Patsayeva)

The popular writer Konstantin Simonov wrote in Pravda: “Warriors know that the most difficult aspect of a reconnaissance mission is to return across the front line to one’s own position. The front line in space reconnaissance, in the struggle to reveal the mysteries of nature, is re-entering the Earth’s atmosphere; the final step before landing. It was precisely at this final step that the crew of the Salyut orbital station perished.’’

Mikhail Rebrov, a special correspondent of the newspaper Krasnaya Zvezda, and a close friend of many of the cosmonauts, summed up to the overwhelming feeling at this tragic, yet triumphant, moment in the history of the Soviet space programme: “We know the road to space is difficult and dangerous. But once having embarked upon this road we must continue, for no difficulty or obstacle can turn a man away from his chosen path. The cosmonauts have told us: ‘As long as our hearts beat, we will continue to explore the universe.’ Wonderful and brave people are now dead. Their names will illuminate the arduous road into outer space like stars.’’

Kenneth Gatland, vice-president of the British Interplanetary Society, wrote: ‘‘The entire space community today mourns the three space heroes whose ashes are being buried in the wall of the Kremlin. Before the tragedy that befell them, they opened a new era of space conquest by occupying the world’s first space station. Their epic flight will stand as a landmark in space history.’’

The writer and broadcaster Patrick Moore said: ‘‘Certainly, the uppermost thought in my mind is sadness at the deaths of these three brave men. They will never be forgotten. Unfortunately, nothing can bring them back, but the sympathy of the whole world will go out to their relatives, to their countless friends, and to all the people of the USSR.’’

One of the last sites to record the three cosmonauts alive was the amateur satellite tracking station at Kettering Grammar School in England. Its leader, Geoffrey Perry, said that they received signals from Soyuz 11 as it was passing 200 km above the island of Madeira in the Atlantic, off the northwest coast of Africa. ‘‘At that time we were certain that all three men were still living. After you have been listening to three men’s heartbeats for 24 days, it is difficult to put into words your feelings on discovering that they are dead. We are all very upset.’’

The leaders of the Soviet space programme were quick to reaffirm that manned missions would continue.

Writing in Pravda on 4 July Academician Boris Petrov, who was the chairman of the Interkosmos Council, spoke of the conquest of space as a ‘‘difficult path’’, then repeated Brezhnyev’s statement, made prior to the launch of Salyut: ‘‘Soviet science considers the creation of orbital stations with replacement crews to be the highway to space.’’ Petrov argued that platforms in ‘‘near-Earth space’’ would enable man to make comprehensive studies of the Earth and of astronomy. He said that ‘‘the 1970s will see the development and application of long-term manned orbital stations with replacement crews, making it possible to switch from occasional brief experiments in space to regular work by scientists and specialists in space laboratories.’’ He went on: ‘‘The experience of the Soyuz 11 crew has shown that the Salyut station is well designed for experiments in orbital flight conditions. Such stations offer broad prospects for the continuation and development of the research that was undertaken

by the first Salyut crew…. In due course larger and more complex multipurpose and specialised space stations will be built. But the significance of the work carried out by the first crew of the first manned orbital station … will never fade.” Speaking of the tragedy, he said: “Soyuz ships have already made several space flights, and have safely returned cosmonauts to Earth. When such complex machinery is being tested and mastered, accidents can never be ruled out.”

The disaster overshadowed the Congress of Soviet Writers’ hosted by the Kremlin, where the famous poet Yevgeniy Yevtushenko read a memorial poem:

Two-way Link for Ever

In Kamchatka and in Arbat,

Above the Angara rapids
The sorrowful expiration: guys have perished,

As the requiem above the country

None – no matter how it was crowned –
Will not return to its house finally
To three hearts, large, human
It became less in Russia hearts.

And what heavy burden,

For the people, to whom they were
Simple Vitya and simple Gosha,

And simple Slava – during the recent days.[103]

O, Matrosovs[104] of the cosmodromes!

You left to us your regulations:

Even in space – by vein without having trembled,

To die at the work sites.

As much there are still difficulties
In the sky to be yielded!

And thus far humanity exists
The flame of future spaceships
Will be the eternal fire in your honour

You are as immortal as the cry:

“We have ignition!”

And it’s not true that contact has been lost:

Between you and our native land
There is two-way link for ever.

WESTERN SPECULATIONS

As soon as TASS made the announcement that the Soyuz 11 crew had been found dead in their couches, people all around the world began to consider whether their deaths were due to a technical fault or were the result of a fundamental limitation of the human body.

One of the prevailing theories was that man might not be able to survive for long periods in weightlessness. For several years there had been a serious debate among scientists about the effects of long-term exposure to weightlessness. In 1965 one of NASA’s Gemini missions had spent 14 days in orbit in order to demonstrate that it was possible to remain in space for the length of time required to fly a lunar landing mission. However, there were indications that the heart grew lazy when exposed to weightlessness. In July 1969 the monkey Bonny died of heart failure after the 9-day flight of NASA’s Biosatellite 3. After the 18-day flight of Andriyan Nikolayev and Vitaliy Sevastyanov on Soyuz 9 in 1970 the Soviets had discovered the debilitating effects of weightlessness: the loss of body fluids, the loss of calcium from the bones and the loss of muscle tone, including the heart. It had taken more than a week for them to readapt to gravity. Perhaps, it was suggested, the Soyuz 11 mission, having lasted six days longer than the previous record, had exceeded man’s limits in space. Medical experts admitted that weightlessness could have played a part in the deaths, but were sceptical that the hearts of three men having different physiologies could have failed simultaneously.

According to one source, the crew of Soyuz 11 complained to the TsUP that they were having breathing difficulties soon after undocking from Salyut, but were told that it was normal.[105]

Western experts in space medicine did not think that the deaths of the cosmonauts resulted from the time they spent in weightlessness. Dr. Charles A. Berry, the chief physician at NASA’s Manned Spacecraft Center in Houston, Texas, said: “There is no evidence whatsoever from either our experience or that of the Russians in space, or from ground-based experiments, to suggest that weightlessness could have been responsible.” He thought that the accident may have been caused by the release of a toxic substance. Dr. Walton Jones, Deputy Director of Life Sciences at the NASA Office of Manned Space Flight, said that since the three men were found strapped in their couches, they likely died as a result of sudden decompression, such as would have occurred if a valve had leaked or if the cabin shell had ruptured or was struck and punctured by a meteoroid.

Within hours of the news of the loss of the crew, Kenneth Gatland of the British Interplanetary Society dismissed the effects of returning to Earth after such a long flight as the cause of death. There must have been a mechanical failure. But it was possible that after 24 days in space the cosmonauts were so tired that they had failed to verify all of the spacecraft’s systems, or when an emergency had developed they had been unable to react sufficiently rapidly.

NASA was relieved when the official report ruled out weightlessness and physical deconditioning as causes for the accident. The American space specialists felt sure that the Soyuz must have suffered a mechanical or structural failure. Because the crew were not in protective pressure suits, they could have died from any number of causes: excessive heat, carbon dioxide fumes from a small fire, a nitrogen leak from the spacecraft’s air-supply system, or a rapid drop in cabin pressure. Such theories were supported by unconfirmed reports that all radio transmissions – telemetry as well as voice – had ceased at the conclusion of the braking manoeuvre. In fact, most speculation centred on a failure in the oxygen supply. This was based largely on the rumour in Moscow that the cosmonauts had been found with serene expressions on the faces – such composure is characteristic of hypoxia, a starvation of oxygen that can produce a rapid and relatively painless death.

On learning of the difficulty in closing the hatch prior to undocking from Salyut, Western analysts theorised that if the hatch was insecure the mechanical stresses of re-entry could have made a minor leak into a disastrous one. But in September 1971 cosmonaut Dr. Boris Yegorov said that the disaster struck when the air leaked from the cabin during a period of several seconds as the orbital module was released. He insisted that the hatch was properly sealed, and said that suspicion had fallen on one of the valves used to equalise the pressures across the hatch.

The authorities had deemed the post-mortems sufficient to determine the cause of death, and had proceeded with the State funeral, but were waiting until they fully understood what had gone wrong before concluding the technical investigation.

Specific references

1. ‘They Made Accomplishment’. Politika, Belgrade, 2 July 1971 (in Serbian).

2. ‘Breathless clue to Soyuz space deaths’, The Sunday Times, 4 July 1971.

3. ‘Moscow to go ahead with plans for manned space stations despite Soyuz disaster’. The Times, 5 July 1971.

4. Stafford, Thomas P. with Cassutt, Michael, We Have Capture – Tom Stafford and the Space Race. Smithsonian Institution Press, 2002, pp. 154-156.

5. Kamanin, N. P., Hidden Space, Book 4. Novosti kosmonavtiki, 2001, pp. 333­338 (in Russian).

Great designer and famous cosmonaut Feoktistov played one of the most important roles in starting the DOS programme. In June 1974, soon after Mishin’s dismissal, Glushko named Feoktistov as one of his deputies – a post he held until May 1990. In the summer of 1975 he worked as flight director for the second crew of Salyut 4, although only briefly. His principal task was the design of the ‘Soyuz T’ crew ferry and the automated ‘Progress’ cargo ship, but he also contributed to improved forms of the DOS, including Salyut 6 and the legendary Mir.

In October 1964 Feoktistov became the first space engineer to fly in space, when he was a member of the first Voskhod mission. Four years later he was a serious candidate for the one-man Soyuz 3 flight, but at that time the Air Force did not wish to allow civilians to pilot spacecraft. In the period May to October 1980 he trained to perform extensive maintenance on the thermal regulation system of Salyut 6 in order to extend the use of that station. He was to fly this Soyuz T-3 mission with Leonid Kizim (TsPK, commander) and Oleg Makarov (NPO Energiya). However, in October, less than a month before the scheduled date of launch, he was replaced by Gennadiy Strekalov. Although the official explanation was that Feoktistov had a medical problem, he insists otherwise: ‘‘It was the Air Force. I have battled them all the time. You see, I thought that those who knew most about cosmonautics should be the ones to fly. In fact, the point was reached at which the leader of the mission should have been a cosmonaut-engineer, not the spacecraft’s commander. However, the soldiers did not like this idea.’’ In October 1987, aged 62, he left the ranks of the cosmonauts. Yuriy Semyonov was once Feoktistov’s boss on the DOS programme, but under Glushko was assigned to direct the development of the Buran space-plane. Feoktistov, who never held back in criticising the direction of the space programme, condemned this project. Semyonov never forgave him, and in May 1990, shortly after Semyonov was appointed head of NPO Energiya, Feoktistov drew his 35-year career as a spacecraft designer to an end and moved to Moscow’s Higher Technical School (MVTU) Bauman. Many of the leading figures in Soviet rocketry and space technology came from Bauman – among them Feoktistov, who got his PhD there in 1967. He retired in 2005.

Feoktistov authored over 150 scientific papers and also several books. In Seven Steps to the Sky, published in 1984,[133] he wrote of a manned flight to Mars. As time went by he grew ever more critical of the space programme. Given that Feoktistov dedicated his best years to the development of space technology his autobiography, Life Path, published in 2000,[134] was written in a curious, sometimes sarcastic style.

Regarding the role of the International Space Station (ISS), whose lineage can be traced back to his own DOS work, and the future of manned space flight in general, he states:

People should not work on this subject just now. There is nothing interesting at the ISS – or in space. There is no serious research. We and the Americans have both spent so much time and effort on manned fights and space stations, but the attainment of the main goal is not linked to these projects. However, the Hubble telescope has offered a great amount of new information. People should work in the areas where results can be obtained. The future belongs to

automated stations. Manned cosmonautics lacks any practical sense and it will not have any meaning, not now, not in future times.

From three marriages Feoktistov has the largest family among all Soviet/ Russian cosmonauts: comprising one daughter and three sons – one of whom was born in 1982 when Feoktistov was 56. He is the oldest of the still-living Soviet cosmonauts to have flown in space. A crater on the far side of the Moon, 19 km in diameter, was named in his honour. In February 2006 he celebrated his jubilee 80th birthday.

As the resources of the station (propellant, air, food and water) were sufficient to continue manned operations until 20 August, the return of Soyuz 11 was set for the last day of June and the launch of Soyuz 12 for between 15 and 20 July. The second crew would depart from the station just before its resources expired. In addition, a review of the resources on Soyuz 11 determined that it was capable of 57 hours of autonomous flight after undocking from the station.

Meanwhile, after a 10-day break on the Black Sea, Leonov’s crew returned to the TsPK. There was a debate as to who should replace the ailing Kubasov. In the backup crew were Gubaryev, Sevastyanov and Voronov. Serving as flight engineer on Soyuz 9 Sevastyanov had performed the longest spaceflight a year ago, but the schedule did not provide sufficient time for him to train for Soyuz 12. Although in a short period of time Filipchenko, Grechko and Makarov all joined the DOS group, in mid-June they were reassigned yet again, this time to fly an autonomous Soyuz mission. Then Kubasov passed a detailed medical screening at the Institute for Biomedical Problems, indicating that he had suffered from no more than a simple allergy, which had almost cleared up. Nevertheless, when on 15 June Kamanin recommended that the Soyuz 12 crew should start training to fly the second DOS-1 mission, Mishin nominated Rukavishnikov to replace Kubasov on this crew.[80]

In addition, Kamanin nominated commanders and military research engineers for three more DOS crews. Later on, Mishin would add his flight engineers to complete them. Using the labels C for commander, FE for flight engineer and RE for research engineer, the assignments were:

• Prime crew (the second crew for DOS-1): Aleksey Leonov (C), Nikolay Rukavishnikov (FE), Pyotr Kolodin (RE);

• Backup crew: Aleksey Gubaryev (C), Vitaliy Sevastyanov (FE), Anatoliy Voronov (RE);

• The third crew: Pyotr Klimuk (C), FE from the TsKBEM, Yuriy Artyukhin (RE);

• The fourth crew: Valeriy Bykovskiy (C), FE from the TsKBEM, Vladimir Alekseyev (RE);

• The fifth crew: Viktor Gorbatko (C), FE and RE both from the TsKBEM.

In general, Leonov and Gubaryev’s crews trained for the final mission to DOS-1, and Gubaryev’s crew expected to fly in early 1972 as the first to DOS-2, followed by Klimuk’s crew. Bykovskiy and Gorbatko’s crews were to backup DOS-2. Although Kamanin allowed the last of the four crews for DOS-2 to have two civilian cosmonauts, their chances of flying were low.

Interestingly, one of Mishin’s candidates for flight engineer on the DOS-2 crews was Feoktistov who, with Mishin and Tregub’s support, approached Kamanin with a view to entering training, but Kamanin’s negative attitude towards him remained strong.

The first two crews, prime and backup, were to end their training by 30 June, the day of Soyuz 11’s planned return to Earth. In early July they would fly to Baykonur to prepare for a launch less than three weeks later. Although there was only a month remaining before his flight, Leonov asked Kamanin for permission to travel to the GDR (East Germany) to deliver personally to the Dresden Gallery his cosmic water colours. Kamanin refused the request with the following words: “If you do not want to place yourself in a stupid position, then don’t tell anyone of this desire of yours. But, know that I will be categorically against your trip to GDR.’’ Kamanin wrote in his diary on 15 June: “It was only a little bit over two weeks left before departure to the cosmodrome, and the commander of Soyuz 12 thinks not so much of the flight in space but about delivering his paintings to the Dresden Gallery.’’

Specific references

1. Vasilyev, M. P., Salyut on Orbit. Mashinostroenie, Moscow, 1973, pp. 21-81 (in Russian).

2. Kamanin, N. P., Hidden Space, Book 4. Novosti kosmonavtiki, 2001, pp. 317­320 (in Russian).

COMMISSION

A special 12-member State Commission was formed to determine the specific cause of the Soyuz 11 tragedy. The chairman was Academician Mstislav Keldysh, and his deputy was Georgiy Babakin, who was the Chief Designer of the Lavochkin Design Bureau which developed lunar and interplanetary probes. The membership included Sergey Afanasyev, head of the Ministry of General Machine Building, and General Designer Valentin Glushko. Although Glushko developed the engines for Korolev’s rockets in the 1950s, his relationship with Mishin was strained. The Commission set up ten subcommittees to investigate every aspect of a Soyuz flight, including launch, orbital operations, mission control, working with the Salyut station, undocking, the braking manoeuvre, re-entry and landing; and then to recommend ways in which to improve the design and operation of the spacecraft. Six of the subcommittees were led by the Air Force representatives, who included cosmonauts Shatalov, Nikolayev and Beregovoy. Interestingly, although General Kamanin was replaced in his post by Shatalov, he led the subcommittee that analysed conditions on Salyut and drew up recommendations for its future use. This would prove to be the final assignment of his 11-year career in charge of the Air Force’s manned space programme.

The State Commission held its first meeting on 3 July, the day after the funeral, at which time it planned the investigation and specified the subcommittees. It had two weeks in which to undertake its investigation and submit its report. For its first operative meeting on 7 July, Keldysh invited the attendance of the most important TsKBEM people involved in the DOS programme – Mishin, Bushuyev, Chertok, Tregub, Shabarov, Semyonov and Feoktistov.

After leaving Mikhail Yangel’s Design Bureau in 1964 to join Korolev, Semyonov rose steadily through the ranks. He started as an assistant to the main designer of the Soyuz spacecraft, but was then appointed the main designer for the L1 circumlunar variant, and finally the main designer for the DOS programme. During the period in which Glushko ran the company, Semyonov participated in improving the Soyuz to serve the second-generation Salyuts, and later Mir. He also directed the Interkosmos programme which trained cosmonauts from fraternal communist countries and gave them brief visits to Salyut 6. In 1981 he was appointed Glushko’s principal deputy, and was placed in charge of the development of the Buran space-plane. During the Gorbachov era he tried politics, but was hindered by the fact that his wife was the daughter of Andrey Kirilenko, who was a senior man in the Politburo of Leonid Brezhnyev. After Glushko’s death in 1989 Semyonov became General Designer of NPO Energiya. In 1991 he was made General Director, and played a key role in preserving the core of the national space programme. After the conglomerate was re-organised in early 1995 as Space Rocket Corporation (RKK) Energiya, he became its first president. He established strong links with the two leading Western space agencies: NASA and ESA. This collaboration prolonged the period of operation of the Mir space station. Nevertheless, once the American use of Mir ended there were no funds to continue to operate the station, and in March 2001 it was de-orbited. By this time, however, Russia was a partner in the International Space Station (ISS). Although RKK Energiya was playing a key role, a significant fraction of the work went to the M. V. Khrunichev Centre, which had become a commercial competitor in the space market. In an effort to improve RKK Energiya’s income, Semyonov, against opposition from NASA, offered Soyuz ‘tourist flights’ to the ISS. Following the demise of the Soviet Union, Russia established a space agency to coordinate the national space programme. Even though the government owned 38 per cent of RKK Energiya, Semyonov tried to bypass the national space agency, thereby drawing criticism, and in May 2005, a month after his 70th birthday, the government told him to retire. He was superseded by 44-year-old Nikolay Sevastyanov. Semyonov holds a PhD in Technical Sciences and has authored over 200 scientific papers.

STAR TOWN

Zvyozdniy Gorodok (Star Town), home of the Cosmonaut Training Centre (TsPK) where Soviet military cosmonauts live and train for space missions, is located in a wood of 100-year-old birch trees in the Shchelkovo area about 40 km northeast of Moscow and 10 km east of Kaliningrad.

In 1958 General Nikolay Kamanin became Deputy Chief of the Soviet Air Force. He was responsible for the selection of all military cosmonauts, their training and nomination for space missions. He was also on the military commission that decided to build Zvyozdniy, and when construction started in the early 1960s all decrees relating to its development required his signature.

Kamanin maintained a good association with his boss, Commander of the Air Force Marshal Konstantin Vershinin, but his relationship with Sergey Korolev was often tense. They got on well during the years of the Vostok flights, but in 1963 OKB-1 set out to modify this capsule to carry up to three cosmonauts and this led to a conflict. Kamanin wished the Voskhod cosmonauts to be drawn exclusively from the Air Force, as in the case of Vostok, but Korolev wished to give his engineers the opportunity to fly in order to personally assess their designs. Korolev got his way for the first Voskhod mission, on which Air Force cosmonaut Vladimir Komarov flew as commander, Konstantin Feoktistov flew as engineer, and Boris Yegorov, a physician whose father was a friend of Korolev’s, flew to investigate the symptoms of ‘space sickness’ that were reported by Vostok cosmonaut Gherman Titov.

When Vasiliy Mishin succeeded Korolev upon the latter’s death in January 1966, the conflict between Zvyozdniy and Kaliningrad became even more intense. And when in August 1966 the Kremlin granted Mishin permission to recruit civilians for the L1 and L3 lunar programmes, Mishin argued that the TsKBEM (as OKB-1 had by then become) should have its own training facility – a proposal that was resisted by Kamanin. However, as the TsPK grew, Kamanin faced management problems. By the mid-1960s the manned space programme was based on the Soyuz spacecraft whose variants were to support a variety of projects, including autonomous flights,

circumlunar and the lunar landing missions, developing techniques for rendezvous and docking, a variety of military tasks, and serving as a ferry for a space station. Appropriate simulators had to be installed at the TsPK, and training procedures and methodologies developed. The installation of the first Soyuz simulator in late 1966 coincided with the arrival of the first cosmonaut-engineers from the TsKBEM. As there were not yet simulators for either the circumlunar L1 or the military Soyuz-VI, the civilians joined the military cosmonauts in training for Soyuz missions. The L3 simulator was an even less likely prospect, in part because Mishin hoped to squeeze the Air Force out of the lunar landing programme and to build the simulator at the TsKBEM. Many of the problems that Kamanin faced were beyond his control. To make matters worse, the death of Yuriy Gagarin while flying a MiG – 15 in training in March 1968 reflected poorly on the TsPK. Both Kamanin and General Nikolay Kuznyetsov, who had been appointed as Commander of the Cosmonaut Training Centre in 1963, felt that they were partly to blame for the accident.

Furthermore, Kamanin suffered from the diminishment of his Khrushchov-era allies in the Ministry of Defence and the Air Force. In 1967 Rodion Malinovskiy was replaced as Minister for Defence by Marshal Andrey Grechko, who had not been a supporter of manned space flights. In 1968 the TsPK gained orbital, military, and lunar training facilities, and was expanded to include engineering and medical departments. It was also renamed the Yu. A. Gagarin Test and Research Centre for Space Flight. For almost 11 years Kamanin had worked closely with Vershinin, but Grechko wanted his own man running the Air Force, and in 1969 he replaced Vershinin with General Pavel Kutakhov, who in turn decided to replace Kamanin as soon as possible.

It was in this intense atmosphere that the crews for the DOS-1 programme were nominated.

After a brief rest, hunting near the town of Vladimir and fishing on the Bear Lakes to the west of Zvyozdniy, on 21 May both crews flew to Baykonur with Kamanin and Beregovoy. fn the Assembly-Test Building (MfK) the engineers had installed a docking command panel to Soyuz 11, and the cosmonauts rehearsed using it – they now had control of all docking operations until the final stage. fn the meantime, one of the fgla rendezvous system units failed during tests. ft was replaced, but the TsKBEM managers were concerned about the system’s reliability. Then both crews returned to Moscow for their final training at the TsPK. Although the crews had flown to Baykonur in separate aircraft, Beregovoy decided to extend his visit to the cosmodrome and they had to break with precedent by returning in a single aircraft. At the TsPK Gubaryev, Sevastyanov and Voronov (the third crew) were already a month into intensive training. However, Sevastyanov had to break off in order to go to the Air and Space Exhibition in Paris, leaving Gubaryev and Voronov to train alone. If all went to plan, after backing up Soyuz 12 this crew would be the first to visit DOS-2 in the new year.

Although the launch date for Soyuz 11 was only a few weeks off, much remained to be done. Not only had Leonov’s crew to fly somewhat earlier than expected, they had also to train to use the revised docking system. The spacecraft was loaded with an additional 10 kg of fuel to allow extended docking manoeuvres, and as a further precaution its resources during autonomous flight were increased from three to four days.

The two crews flew to Baykonur in separate planes on 28 May, accompanied by a large number of experts from Moscow and members of the State Commission. The crew of Soyuz 10 were also present to assist with the final preparations. Two days later, on 30 May, the cosmonauts celebrated Leonov’s 37th birthday, and on 1 June they marked Dobrovolskiy’s 43rd birthday – no one could know that it would be his last. Later that day, Mishin arrived from Moscow after an unpleasant meeting with the N1-L3 lunar programme expert commission headed by Academician Keldysh. Mishin’s dilemma was that he desperately wished to push on with the development of the N1 rocket and start manned lunar missions, but was obliged to spend much of his time on the DOS programme – for which he was the technical manager. After addressing the well-known limitations of the N1, Keldysh had told Mishin that a lunar landing in 1973 was unrealistic and that the lunar project should be reviewed in detail with the members of his commission to devise a new plan for presentation to the Kremlin. On arriving at Baykonur, Mishin did not bother to explain this bad news to his deputies. In fact, everyone was pleased to find him brisk and fresh after having recently spent three days in hospital.

On 2 June the crews discussed with Chertok, Feoktistov and other representatives from the TsKBEM the docking procedures and potential failures of the automatic systems. They also discussed issues relating to the time that the station had spent in space – the possibility of toxic agents having accumulated in its atmosphere, food spoilage, water contamination and erosion of the seal of the hatch between the two spacecraft. After both crews had spent approximately half an hour in the descent module rehearsing, Soyuz 11 was installed on its rocket ready for transport to the pad. Meanwhile, Salyut continued to orbit the Earth, awaiting its first visitors. That evening the cosmonauts exercised and played chess to relax. Kubasov, Kolodin and Volkov liked tennis; Patsayev soccer; Leonov did not mind and would play anyone at anything. After a movie they retired to bed.

Although there was a general feeling that all of the procedures had been assessed and the cosmonauts and the spacecraft were ready, there were still some concerns in relation to the rendezvous technique. After Soyuz 10 Yeliseyev was appointed as deputy to Yakov Tregub, responsible for flight control. As an expert on the control

Kolodin (foreground) was the single rookie on the ‘first crew’ for Soyuz 11. Leonov (in the middle) was the first man to make a spacewalk. Kubasov was a veteran of the Soyuz 6 mission. (Top picture from the private collection of Rex Hall. Bottom picture first published in Spaceflight magazine by the BIS).

system he had demanded of Chertok and his own former boss, Raushenbakh, who had remained in Moscow, precise figures to enable the cosmonauts to monitor the operation of the Igla in different rendezvous scenarios. This information took the form of graphs showing the permitted variance of the rate of approach as a function of the range to the station. Whenever their speed ‘touched’ a limiting line on the graph, the control system should automatically fire the thrusters either to accelerate or decelerate in order to remain within the ‘corridor’.

After lunch on 3 June Kerimov informed the State Commission of a Politburo meeting at which Brezhnyev and Kosygin had asked for another check to ensure that Soyuz 11 would be able to dock and that the crew would be able to enter the station. Afanasyev, Keldysh, Bushuyev and Smirnov had told the Politburo that Leonov’s crew would fly the mission. Kosygin asked if they were well prepared, and Smirnov

replied affirmatively. Noting that France had announced its intention to conduct an atmospheric nuclear test in the Pacific, Brezhnyev asked whether this would pose a risk to the cosmonauts, and Bushuyev said it would not.

On hearing this, Severin, known for his jokes, suggested to the Commission: “We should ask the cosmonauts to report how a nuclear explosion looks when seen from space.”

“Why?” someone asked.

“To enable them to decide for themselves whether it is sensible to return to Earth once the nuclear war begins!”

The Commission decided to install Soyuz 11 on the pad at 6.00 a. m. the following morning, 4 June, and schedule the launch for 7.55 a. m. on 6 June.

While the State Commission discussed the forthcoming launch and laughed about the French nuclear test, the cosmonauts were having a routine medical examination. The mood changed suddenly when an X-ray scan showed an unusual dark spot on Kubasov’s right lung which had not been present on a scan in February. Could it be tuberculosis? When an additional scan confirmed that he did indeed have something on his lung, the physicians announced that he would not be able to fly the mission. Kubasov was one of the first civilians to have passed the Air Force’s medical screening for cosmonaut selection; he was one of the strongest cosmonauts; he was fit and healthy – only the previous evening he had run 5 km and then played tennis. Although Kubasov insisted that he was feeling perfectly alright and was ready to fly, the physicians ruled that he was unfit to fly.

This was unprecedented. In 1969 the original Soyuz 8 crew had been replaced as a result of poor scores in the training examinations, but that was almost two months prior to the mission. In this case the cosmonauts were already at Baykonur with just three days to the launch date. Who should fly? Representatives of the Air Force, the Ministry of General Machine Building and the Ministry of Health had all signed a document which specified that in the event of a cosmonaut on a prime crew being medically disqualified prior to travelling to Baykonur he should be replaced by his backup. However, there should be no individual replacements once the crews were at the cosmodrome – the plan was to replace the entire crew with its backup, which meant that Leonov’s crew would have to be replaced by Dobrovolskiy’s crew. That was the rule… but the situation was difficult. When Dobrovolskiy’s crew was first assigned, this had been in the expectation that it would fly to DOS-2 in 1972. As a result of the inability of Soyuz 10 to dock with Salyut, and the desire to make two visits to DOS-1, Dobrovolskiy’s mission had been advanced by one year. Now they faced setting off with only a few day’s notice and being the first to attempt the new docking procedure. In contrast to Soyuz 10, which included two veterans, one of whom (Shatalov) was the only cosmonaut to have previously made a docking, only one member of Dobrovolskiy’s crew (Volkov) had flown in space.

Kamanin called a meeting of the senior Air Force representatives present at the cosmodrome – cosmonauts Shatalov, Leonov, Kolodin and Dobrovolskiy, General Kuznyetsov, who ran the TsPK, General Goreglyad, who was Kamanin’s long-time aide, and the medical staff. They analysed the new situation and, after weighing the factors, decided that the best solution was to reject the rule and instead to substitute Volkov for Kubasov in Leonov’s crew. When Kamanin suggested this to Kerimov and Mishin, they agreed. But a short time later Mishin rang Kamanin to say that he had changed his mind – he had discussed the matter with the Kremlin, which was of the opinion that they must follow the rule and assign the mission to Dobrovolskiy’s crew.

Interestingly, only a few people at the cosmodrome were aware of what was afoot. In particular, Chertok, who after Mishin was the most senior TsKBEM man present, found out only late in the afternoon when he was stopped outside the dinning room by Severin, who complained about having to replace the couches, flight suits and medical belts – which would not be easy to do now that the spacecraft was installed on the third stage of the launch vehicle and within its aerodynamic shroud. Chertok was dumbfounded. He and Severin went into the dinning room to talk to Shabarov, who was responsible for testing manned spacecraft; he had heard nothing. Severin was astonished: “Is it possible that your boss didn’t consider it necessary to consult you about such a fundamental issue? To replace a crew at just two days notice. This is something that has never been done before – not here, nor in America.[41] Will we once again perform an experiment ‘for the first time in the world’?’’ At this point, Mishin called and asked all the managers of the TsKBEM and representatives of the Institute of Biomedical Problems and the Ministry of Health to meet at 11.00 p. m. in the MIK. This was to be the civilian equivalent of Kamanin’s consultation with the Air Force representatives.

Dr. Yevgeniy Vorobyev, a physician, explained that an X-ray scan had revealed a shading on Kubasov’s right lung about the size of a chicken’s egg. He also pointed out that the Air Force was responsible for ongoing monitoring of the cosmonauts’ health, and that Kamanin and his medical staff were responsible for answering any queries about to the late discovery of this ailment. A senior member of the Ministry of Health then pointed out the failure of the TsPK to discover that cosmonaut Pavel Belyayev had developed a bleeding ulcer, with the result that he died in hospital in January 1970. At midnight, the TsKBEM managers agreed to put Soyuz 11 on the pad the next morning and to replace the crew facilities once it was in place. Severin said that although it would not be straightforward to do this work through the hatch of the orbital module, doing so should take no longer than five hours. Although the TsKBEM managers took it for granted that the crew would be swapped, the formal nomination of the crew was the responsibility of the State Commission.

At 7.00 a. m. on 4 June, shortly after Soyuz 11 had been installed on the pad, the State Commission gathered in the MIK for a meeting which would be remembered forever. General Kerimov, the chairman, reported that Kubasov was not going to fly; the basis of this decision was the medical report that declared him to be unfit. This took some people completely by surprise, because the previous day the Kremlin had confirmed the crew. Dr. Vorobyev explained the situation: “During the X-ray scan, physicians noted a shading on Kubasov’s lung. They took layered roentgenography and calculated that the infiltration is located at a depth of 9 cm. It is deemed to be serious and active.’’ He added that although an examination of Kubasov’s blood was generally satisfactory, there was an increase in eosinophils, which are the white blood cells of the immune system.

Kerimov asked Kamanin for his thoughts about the crew. Taking into account the complexity of the planned mission, Kamanin said that Volkov should fly instead of Kubasov. “Leonov has already been in space. He has even spacewalked. Volkov has flown on Soyuz and he will be able to manage the mission objectives.” It was a simple case of replacing one experienced cosmonaut with another.

However, Mishin thought differently: “We object! I consulted with our comrades. We have the document signed by the Air Force that in a case like this we have to change the entire crew. The backup crew passed their training with good scores. A new and unharmonised crew would be worse than the backup one. We categorically insist on the replacement of the entire crew.’’ Mishin was supported by Chertok and Shabarov, and even by General Ponomaryev, who was the Deputy Commander-in­Chief of the Air Force, and by General Kuznyetsov, the head of the TsPK who was aware that his elderly and unpopular boss was soon to retire. Those members of the Commission whose role was to ensure that the spacecraft was launched on time and was able to accomplish the planned mission, and so were not particularly interested in who flew, abstained from the debate.

The State Commission decided to replace the entire crew, and told Kamanin to inform the cosmonauts of this. Kamanin did not object. He knew the rules. Perhaps in different circumstances he would have challenged Mishin, as he had often before.

But he was tired of disputes with the Chief Designer and also of misunderstandings with General Kutakhov, his new boss. The mission of Soyuz 11 would conclude his decade in charge of cosmonaut training. Although Yevgeniy Bashkin, a training instructor from the TsPK, pointed out that his team had worked primarily with the prime crew at the expense of the backup crew, this was not intended as support for Kamanin’s case. Shabarov asked for permission to leave the Commission early with Severin and Feoktistov, as they had a lot of work to do on the spacecraft. However, because its business had been decided, Kerimov concluded the session. After a brief breakfast Severin and his team went to replace the apparatus in the spacecraft, and Feoktistov’s group made the relevant calculations to allow for the change in overall weight of the crew.

In the afternoon, several top-level medical experts flew in from Moscow. After a detailed analysis of the documentation of Kubasov’s ailment, and taking additional scans, they confirmed the symptoms of tuberculosis.

Soon after decree No. 105-41 was issued in February 1970 directing that work start on the DOS project, Kamanin asked Mishin to immediately assign crews for the first space station, and Mishin directed his subordinates who dealt with the selection and training of cosmonaut-engineers to do so.

One of the first to be nominated was Aleksey Yeliseyev, who had flown two Soyuz missions in 1969: ‘‘Deputy Chief Designer Yakov Tregub called and said that he would like to include Nikolay Rukavishnikov and I in the first crew. He also suggested that we familiarise ourselves with all works related to the orbital station and the preparation for its launch. Tregub led the testing of the spacecraft systems, the technical training of the cosmonauts, and managed mission control. His opinion was important, and we thought we had good chances. We were so excited to work on the first orbital station!”

At the end of April 1970 Tregub and Colonel Sergey Anyokhin, who was head of the TsKBEM’s cosmonaut group, paid Kamanin a visit and explained that the plan was to build two identical space stations, each of which would be occupied twice. Four crews had been selected. The first two would be assigned to DOS-1; the first flying a 30-day mission and the second a 45-day mission.1 The third and fourth crews would serve in a backup role for DOS-1 and then become the prime crews for DOS-2.

The nominations were:

• Crew 1: Vladimir Shatalov, Aleksey Yeliseyev and Nikolay Rukavishnikov

• Crew 2: Georgiy Shonin, Valeriy Kubasov and Pyotr Kolodin

• Crew 3: Boris Volynov, Konstantin Feoktistov and Viktor Patsayev

• Crew 4: Yevgeniy Khrunov, Vladislav Volkov and Vitaliy Sevastyanov.

The commander of the first crew, Colonel Shatalov, had been recruited by the TsPK in 1963 as a member of the second group of military cosmonauts. He had flown twice – the first time performing the first docking in space of two manned spacecraft. In 1966 Yeliseyev had become a member of the TsKBEM’s first group of cosmonaut-engineers. He was one of three Soviet cosmonauts with experience of spacewalking.[26] [27] In January 1969, after Shatalov had docked Soyuz 4 with Soyuz 5, Yeliseyev and Khrunov had made an external transfer to join him. Also, Shatalov and Yeliseyev had flown together on Soyuz 8 in October 1969. Rukavishnikov was also a member of the first group of cosmonaut-engineers, but had not been able to enter training until early 1967. His assignment on the space station crew was as the research engineer.

Colonel Shonin was to command the second mission to the station. Although he had been recruited in 1960 as a member of the first group of the cosmonauts, he did not make his first flight until October 1969, when he commanded Soyuz 6 and spent five days in space. His engineer on that mission was Kubasov, who, like Yeliseyev, was a member of the TsKBEM’s first group of cosmonaut-engineers. Lieutenant – Colonel Kolodin was recruited in 1963 as a member of the second group of military cosmonauts. He had served in a backup role for the ‘group flight’ of 1969. On the space station crew he would serve as the research engineer.

Colonel Volynov, the commander of the third crew, was a member of the first group of cosmonauts. He commanded Soyuz 5, which served as the passive target for Soyuz 4. Spacecraft designer Feoktistov had flown as the engineer of the Voskhod mission in 1964. Because Volynov had been backup commander for that mission, he knew Feoktistov well. Patsayev, a rookie TsKBEM cosmonaut-engineer, was to be the research engineer.

The fourth crew was to be commanded by Colonel Khrunov, who was a member of the first group of cosmonauts. On his first flight he had launched on Soyuz 5 and, with Yeliseyev, had spacewalked to Soyuz 4 to return to Earth. The flight engineer, Volkov, was a TsKBEM cosmonaut-engineer who had flown on Soyuz 7. Although Sevastyanov was chosen as a member of the first group of cosmonaut-engineers, he had not entered training until early 1967. At the time of his assignment as a space station research engineer, he was training for the Soyuz 9 ‘marathon’ mission to be flown in June 1970.

Although Mishin and Kamanin had previously argued that the DOS crews should be drawn exclusively from his own side, five of the nominations that the TsKBEM proposed were Air Force and seven were civilians. Kamanin acknowledged that the commanders were military cosmonauts, but wanted to have two military officers on each crew – only the second nominated crew had two military officers; in the others there were two civilians. He also criticised having two veterans on each crew. He particularly objected to having two of the most experienced cosmonauts – Shatalov and Yeliseyev – on the same crew. There were Air Force cosmonauts who had been waiting many years to make their first space flight.

Kamanin also criticised the nomination of Feoktistov. Every time that he had seen Feoktistov’s name on a list of candidates for an assignment, he had opposed it. In 1964 he had argued against Korolev’s desire to fly Feoktistov on the first Voskhod mission. After the death of Komarov on Soyuz 1 in 1967, Mishin had proposed that since the primary task of the manned mission planned for October 1968 would be to test the modified Soyuz, the best man to fly it would be Feoktistov, but Kamanin had insisted that the renowned test pilot Colonel Beregovoy be assigned. However, Beregovoy failed do dock his Soyuz 3 with the unmanned Soyuz 2 – despite the fact that unmanned Soyuz spacecraft had twice previously achieved automated dockings. Kamanin’s hostility to Feoktistov was not limited to crew assignments. In 1969 the Americans had invited the Soviet Union to send two cosmonauts on a goodwill trip to the United States. The TsPK candidate was Beregovoy. When Mishin nominated Feoktistov, Kamanin argued that another military officer, Pavel Belyayev, who had commanded Voskhod 2, should be sent instead. On that occasion, Mishin won. As regards the DOS nomination, the basis of Kamanin’s criticism was that Feoktistov’s state of health was too poor, he wore glasses and was divorcing for the second time. But the real reason for Kamanin’s persistent antipathy might have been that, unlike the other cosmonauts, Feoktistov never joined the Communist Party. In fact, given that Feoktistov had gone behind Mishin’s back to get the DOS programme started, it was perhaps surprising that the TsKBEM’s Chief Designer had allowed his name to go forward at all!

Volynov’s nomination also caused Kamanin a difficulty. Volynov had been one of the strongest candidates in the first group of cosmonauts, but his mother was of Jewish heritage and this had attracted the criticism of the Kremlin’s anti-Semites. Ivan Serbin, who was the Chief of the Industries Department, had openly warned Kamanin after the successful Soyuz 4/5 mission that not only must Volynov not be assigned another space flight, he should not even be allowed to travel to abroad. In 1964 Volynov had been on the verge of commanding the historic Voskhod mission, but at the last moment Kamanin, yielding to Korolev’s argument to fly Feoktistov, who was on the backup crew, and to criticism of Volynov’s appointment by Serbin and others in the Kremlin, had allowed the backup crew to fly. In the spring of 1966 Volynov had gone to Baykonur to command the planned long-duration Voskhod 3 mission, but this was cancelled – although not owing to criticism of Volynov. Now,

with Grechko’s man Kutakhov running the Air Force, Kamanin knew that his own position was too weak to resist the criticism which Volynov’s nomination to a DOS crew would draw. In February 1970 Kamanin had given Volynov the ‘low profile’ job of commanding the new recruits; now he told him not to expect a nomination to a space flight for at least several years.

Finally, Kamanin was stunned at the nomination of Khrunov. In 1969, while he was a backup commander for the Soyuz ‘group flight’, Khrunov had been involved in a car accident two months prior to launch and had left the scene without assisting an injured person. As punishment for this irresponsible behaviour, Kamanin had temporarily excluded Khrunov from training for a future space mission.

Let us return to Mishin and the decision to swap the entire crew. When speaking of this issue at the State Commission he repeatedly used “we” rather than “I’’. Who else was involved in taking this decision? It is clear from Chertok’s memoirs that Mishin did not consult either Chertok or Shabarov, his most senior deputies present, as they heard the news from Severin, who was from a different design bureau! The discussion between Severin, Chertok and Shabarov occurred late in the afternoon of 3 June, several hours after the medical examination. The events during those hours are still unclear, but based on the memories of some of the people present, as well as upon later events, it is possible to construct a reasonable scenario of activities by the Air Force people under Kamanin and by the TsKBEM staff headed by Mishin, and this indicates that the decision was made very quickly. If Mishin did not consult his two principal available deputies, what about Moscow?

At 9.00 a. m. on 4 June, immediately following the State Commission’s meeting, Bushuyev telephoned Chertok from Moscow. As we have seen, Bushuyev had gone to the Politburo with Afanasyev, Keldysh and Smirnov the previous day to report to Brezhnyev on the preparations for Soyuz 11. Bushuyev gave Chertok a summary of the meeting, and told him that Afanasyev would arrive at Baykonur that afternoon for another test of the modified docking system. But Bushuyev, who was Mishin’s second deputy and therefore the third man in the TsKBEM structure, had no idea of the crew change. On hearing of it from Chertok he became agitated: “How dare you decide to do it without consulting us in Moscow! We have reported to the Politburo that Leonov’s crew will fly. We confirmed how well they were prepared. And you – because of Kubasov – have replaced them all! Look at the situation in which you have placed Afanasyev, Smirnov and Ustinov! Now they must urgently report again. Afanasyev will be with you in three hours and he won’t thank you for it either.’’ It is therefore clear that Mishin did not consult Bushuyev, his most senior deputy having a responsibility for manned spacecraft.

In fact, there was only one man in Moscow whom Mishin was obliged to consult: his old patron, Minister Afanasyev, who in turn would have sought the blessing of Ustinov. Although this must have occurred, Bushuyev was clearly unaware of it. It is difficult to prove the case, however, as the leaders of the Soviet space programme made many decisions orally. If there are any documents about this dramatic change, they remain secret in the Kremlin’s archive.

Mishin based his objection to Kamanin’s suggestion on two elements:

• the document signed by the Air Force stating that once the crews were at the cosmodrome they would not be replaced on an individual basis; and

• his suspicion that if Volkov were to be substituted for Kubasov at this late stage then the crew would not be as harmonious as it would have been with Kubasov, making it inferior to a crew comprising Dobrovolskiy, Volkov and Patsayev, who, even though they were less experienced, had been in training as a crew for some time.

On the other side, Kamanin thought that a crew consisting of Leonov, Volkov and Kolodin, with two veteran cosmonauts, would be more capable of completing such a complex mission successfully.

But perhaps Mishin and Kamanin were each driven by a simpler motivation. After much debate, it had been agreed that the first and third crews would have one TsPK cosmonaut (in command) and two TsKBEM cosmonaut-engineers; and the second and fourth crews would have two military cosmonauts and one civilian. But the first crew had not been able to dock with the station, and Mishin and Kamanin may each have sought to interpret this agreement in his own favour: Mishin wishing to fly his two engineers and Kamanin wishing to have two military cosmonauts. Applying the rule of exchanging the entire crew would favour Mishin. Discarding the rule and replacing Kubasov by Volkov would favour Kamanin. Volkov would fly regardless of how the dispute was resolved. The basic issue was which community would have two of its cosmonauts on the crew – the TsPK or the TsKBEM.

At noon on 3 June, immediately after the medical report which grounded Kubasov, Kamanin and his Air Force people decided to reject the rule and instead substitute Volkov for Kubasov in Leonov’s crew. Initially, Mishin accepted the plan, but soon telephoned Kamanin and told him that after a conversation with Moscow (actually Afanasyev and probably Ustinov) they must exchange the crew. Officially, the State Commission was responsible for considering the views of Kamanin and Mishin and formally nominating the crew. But with the exception of Mishin, and at a later stage Kerimov, no members of the Commission had been involved in this decision; Kamanin was excluded of course. Mishin did not mention an official document – he simply said to Kamanin that Moscow supported the crew exchange. In fact, to achieve his goal Mishin had used the document between the Air Force and the TsKBEM which specified that once the crews were at the cosmodrome they would not be replaced on an individual basis. When Soyuz 10 failed to dock, it appeared that Mishin had missed the chance to have two civilian cosmonauts on the first crew to board Salyut; but now, thanks to Kubasov’s ailment, if he could get the crew exchanged, he had a second opportunity to send two of his cosmonauts.

However, someone was missing in this chain of events: Volkov – the man who may well have played the most crucial role. The Air Force people certainly did not consult the civilian, and Mishin initially accepted Kamanin’s plan without seeking the opinion of Volkov. But as Mishin thought about it more deeply, it is reasonable that he would have talked the matter over with Volkov, and possibly also Patsayev, prior to making his call to Moscow.

After Mishin called Kamanin to say that Moscow had consented to the crew being swapped, Kamanin informed the Air Force staff. Leonov exploded. He could not accept this. As a member of the original cosmonaut group, and the first man ever to spacewalk, he urged the Air Force to demand that he fly with Kolodin and Volkov. He had trained for the mission for almost a year. He knew Salyut thoroughly. As a passionate artist, he had even arranged for the station’s cargo to include his painting apparatus. While in space he wanted to paint the Earth, the stars, the Moon, distant nebulas, and his colleagues at work in the station. It was his mission. Naturally, he had the full support of Kolodin, who was eager to make his first flight.

The famous journalist Yaroslav Golovanov, who knew many of the cosmonauts well, recalled the atmosphere at Baykonur as follows: “It is hard to describe what was happening in the Cosmonaut Hotel. Leonov was so furious that he was simply growling. If he could, he would have strangled Kubasov. Poor Valeriy could not understand what was going on. He was feeling perfectly well and, after all, it wasn’t his fault. In the evening Kolodin visited me, completely crushed. With a glass in his hand he said: ‘Yaroslav, you know, I will never fly in space.’ And he was right. …

Leonov urged the replacement of Kubasov with Volkov. It looks as if he succeeded in convincing the generals, but then Volkov became obstinate, saying: ‘If a change is necessary, then change the entire crew.’ ”

This definitely shows that Volkov was behind the decision; Mishin was merely its executor.

However, in one of his interviews Kubasov said something else: ‘‘They intended to move Volkov from the backup crew to take my place, but Leonov categorically opposed this idea.’’

Are we to believe Leonov did not wish Volkov to be on his crew? It was true that of the cosmonaut-engineers Volkov was the most critical of his military colleagues owing to their lesser technical qualifications. In training at the TsPK for his first flight, he sometimes behaved as if he were the leader of the crew with two military cosmonauts. In fact, Kamanin once told Filipchenko, the real Soyuz 7 commander, to restrain Volkov in the Soyuz simulator. Of course, Leonov would have known of this. In normal circumstances, Leonov would not have been keen to have Volkov on his crew. But Leonov knew that the only way that he would fly on Soyuz 11 was if he accepted Volkov as his flight engineer. Volkov, however, had a choice. He had a guaranteed ticket to fly. If he flew under Leonov’s command he would be the only civilian on board. If the backup crew flew, then not only would he fly with the men with whom he had trained, but because Dobrovolskiy and Patsayev were rookies he would enjoy the status of a veteran. So for Volkov the choice was simple. And there is another unusual aspect to Kubasov’s claim. He was close to Volkov: both were from Moscow; they were the same age; they graduated from the Moscow Aviation Institute; they worked together for years at OKB-1; they successfully passed all the cosmonaut examinations and medical tests and were chosen for the TsKBEM’s first group of cosmonaut-engineers. As much as he may have sought to protect Volkov, by making his claim Kubasov actually raised an old and never documented story of a complex relationship between Leonov and Volkov: allegedly, when the crews for the DOS missions were first nominated Leonov belittled Volkov, pointing out that although a veteran he was only on the third crew, and hence had no chance of flying to the first space station.

On 4 June the State Commission confirmed what Volkov and Mishin desired: the replacement of the entire crew. When they heard of this from Kamanin, Leonov and Kolodin continued to complain. Having two cosmonauts, both military officers, one a space veteran and the other a rookie, dispute the decision of a State Commission was a remarkable moment for the centralised and totalitarian Soviet system – both unprecedented and incomprehensible. Kamanin, who was always on the side of his cosmonauts, acceded to the pressure imposed by Mishin, who was able to rely upon the rule signed by the Air Force stating that once the crews were at Baykonur there would be no individual cosmonaut substitutions. Having lost the support of the Air Force and his closest colleagues at the TsPK, Kamanin did not wish to pursue the matter further. But Leonov and Kamanin did. Lacking the support of their generals, they went directly to the only man who could have the decision changed: Mishin. In the 2004 book Two Sides of the Moon, which Leonov co-authored, he summarised the conversation with Mishin ahead of the final

meeting of the State Commission on the evening of 4 June. Leonov says that Mishin warned him: “Don’t forget that you shared a room with Kubasov. Perhaps you drank from the same glass. We can’t take the risk of you becoming ill while in space.’’ In hindsight, Leonov acknowledged Mishin was correct. But at the time he could not accept the decision. He and Mishin exchanged some rather unpleasant words. Just before the State Commission convened, Mishin advised Chertok of his difficult conversation with Leonov and Kolodin – during which Kolodin said that he had known all along that he would not fly: “To them, I am the ‘white crow’ – they’re all pilots and I’m a missile man.’’

That was true: among the 15 members of the 1963 group of Air Force cosmonauts, Kolodin was one of four who were not pilots. He had served at both the Baykonur and Plesetsk cosmodromes in the Strategic Rocket Forces. As a ‘missile man’ at the TsPK, he did not think he had much chance of ever being assigned to a prime crew in competition with the Air Force officers, some of whom had test pilot experience. Fellow ‘missile man’ Eduard Buynovskiy has said that when the cosmonauts of the second group arrived in Zvyozdniy they were immediately separated into pilots and non-pilots. In addition, Kolodin was notable for the curiosity of having lost half of his left thumb in an accident! According to Leonov, Kolodin had a particularly hard time. In 1964-65 Kolodin was Leonov’s second backup in preparations for the first spacewalk. He was appointed as a general backup for the ‘group flight’ of October 1969 along with Shatalov and Yeliseyev, but when the two-man crew of Soyuz 8 was replaced Kolodin was not needed. Now, when he was on the threshold of space, it was decided that he should be stood down! Kolodin reportedly tried to convince Mishin to substitute him for Patsayev on Dobrovolskiy’s crew. Of course, Mishin refused, and Kolodin, almost with tears in his eyes, warned ominously, ‘‘History will not forgive you for what you have done.’’

It is interesting that in his published diary Kamanin did not write in detail of his conversations with Leonov and Kolodin. He said simply that Leonov’s entire crew reacted incorrectly and in an inappropriate manner. According to Kamanin, their behaviour was totally unacceptable and did them no honour. However, they were not the alone in this. As Kamanin put it: ‘‘They are guilty for that, as are many Big Chiefs who added fuel to the flame.’’

On 6 May 1970 revised crews were nominated. They were:

• Crew 1: Georgiy Shonin, Aleksey Yeliseyev and Nikolay Rukavishnikov

• Crew 2: Aleksey Leonov, Valeriy Kubasov and Pyotr Kolodin

• Crew 3: Vladimir Shatalov, Vladislav Volkov and Viktor Patsayev

• Crew 4: Georgiy Dobrovolskiy, Vitaliy Sevastyanov and Anatoliy Voronov

By this point, relations between Mishin and Kamanin were improving. Mishin had accepted most of Kamanin’s criticisms. Splitting Shatalov from Yeliseyev led to Shatalov having an unpleasant conversation with Kamanin at being demoted from commanding the first crew to visit the space station. Mishin and Kamanin agreed a more equitable share of the nominations: with the first and third crews having one TsPK cosmonaut (who was commander) and two TsKBEM cosmonaut-engineers; and with the second and fourth crews having two military cosmonauts and one civilian. In return, Kamanin allowed his cosmonauts to visit Kaliningrad to perform part of their training with their civilian counterparts – thereby relieving the demand on the TsPK’s simulators. Since the L1 and L3 lunar programmes were both stalled, Kamanin reassigned all the military cosmonauts nominally in training for such missions to other projects, including DOS.

In the reshuffle Shatalov was moved from the first crew to replace Volynov on the third, with Shonin taking Shatalov’s place. Kamanin nominated Colonel Leonov, another veteran from the first group of cosmonauts who had trained to command the first L1 circumlunar mission, to fill Shonin’s place. Khrunov was replaced as commander of the fourth crew by Lieutenant-Colonel Dobrovolskiy who, although he had been recruited in 1963 as a member of the second Air Force group, had not yet flown in space. Mishin replaced Feoktistov by advancing Volkov from the fourth crew, then reassigned Sevastyanov’s role from research engineer to flight engineer. Kamanin completed this crew with Lieutenant-Colonel Voronov, who was another member of the Air Force’s second group who had yet to fly. All the research engineers were rookies, and the first three crews each had two experienced cosmonauts – one from each community. The inexperience of Dobrovolskiy’s crew was not considered to be a problem, because they would have the longest time to

Kubasov (left), Volkov and Yeliseyev, flight engineers assigned to the first DOS station, in conversation with an Air Force representative (back to camera).

A rare photo showing some of the original DOS crewmembers at an early stage of training listening to a presentation at the TsKBEM: Shonin (left), Shatalov, Kubasov, an unidentified person and Volkov.

train and would be able to benefit from the lessons learned by their predecessors in operating a space station. On 13 May 1970 Mishin and Kamanin signed a decree which confirmed the crew assignments.

The names of all the cosmonauts have been mentioned intentionally, even those who were not actually able to train for a mission to the DOS-1 station, as this shows how the destinies of these men were influenced by incidents such as Khrunov’s car crash, Volynov’s Jewish blood, Kamanin’s dislike for Feoktistov, and the need to agree a fair balance of assignments between the two communities of cosmonauts.

In late July the Military-Industrial Commission (VPK) met specifically to discuss the progress with the DOS programme. Okhapkin, Mishin’s First Deputy, gave the TsKBEM report. In accordance with the original plan, two identical stations were to be built. DOS-1 was to be launched in early 1971 and be visited by two crews who would undertake a variety of scientific experiments and make terrestrial, solar and astronomical observations. Two further crews would visit DOS-2 in 1972. However, Okhapkin reported that as a result of a number of problems the project was about 2 months late. After Soyuz 8 experienced difficulties with its fgla rendezvous system on the ‘group flight’ in 1969, the design had been revised and the system transferred from the descent module to the orbital module in order to improve its ‘field of view’. In addition, since the flight to the station would take only one day and the capsule would return to Earth within hours of departing from the station, the designers had simplified its life support system; but there were delays in testing the revisions. The major change to the Soyuz was the inclusion of a docking system incorporating a 0.8-metre-diameter hatch to enable the cosmonauts to access the station. There had been delays in constructing this new system. Nevertheless, as soon as the schedule allowed, DOS-1 would be launched by one of Chelomey’s Proton rockets. After 8 to 10 days, the Soyuz 10 mission would be launched using the first 7K-T crew ferry. If everything went to plan, Shonin, Yeliseyev and Rukavishnikov would spend 30 days

on the station. Twenty-five days after Soyuz 10’s return, Soyuz 11 would be launched with Leonov, Kubasov and Kolodin, who would spend up to 45 days in space, with the actual duration being determined by how well the flight progressed. ft was therefore hoped that the DOS-1 station would be able to be occupied for 75 days of its expected service life of 80-90 days. However, it was accepted that this would be a pioneering venture. The longest time that American astronauts had spent in space was 14 days, on a Gemini flight in December 1965. Several weeks prior to the VPK meeting, the 18-day flight of Soyuz 9 by cosmonauts Andriyan Nikolayev and Vitaliy Sevastyanov had broken this endurance record. As the days passed, the cosmonauts had become so tired that mission control had used a siren to wake them up. On their return to Earth their heart rates were twice the norm, and for three days neither man had been able to walk. ft took them a month to recover fully. fn fact, Nikolayev had to retire several months later owing to ongoing heart issues. fn view of the experiences of this crew, Kamanin said that missions of 30 or 45 days were unrealistic until more information was gained on how the human body was affected by prolonged exposure to weightlessness, and he argued that the early DOS flights should not exceed 20 days.

The VPK meeting ended without specifying the length of the missions for the DOS-1 station. Leonid Smirnov, the chairman of the commission, ordered that all testing must be done by the end of the year, and that the station must be launched in time to be celebrated by the 24th Congress of the Soviet Communist Party in March 1971.

fn June 1970 the engineers of the first and third crews (Yeliseyev, Rukavishnikov, Volkov and Patsayev) started to train at the TsPK, and began to pay regular visits to the Khrunichev factory in Fili to monitor the building the first station.

Yeliseyev recalls: “The construction of the station was rapid. ft took only a few days to build a wooden mockup – all its sections and elements were in accordance with the design, but instead of real devices and apparatus it had wooden models. With Rukavishnikov, f went to see the mockup of the first station. Compared to the Soyuz, it looked like a giant – it was more than 10 metres from one end to the other. There was room for several people to work, without hindrances. … Engineers were working continuously, checking every detail of the documentation. Every revision was tested on the mockup, with a detailed inspection. ff the change was acceptable, then it was made to the station. We were involved in testing the positioning of the controls, instrument panels and the apparatus for visual monitoring. We were also consulted on how the crew should work and rest. . . . This work was very interesting. However, f must admit that the most impressive thing was to watch the real station be born. … f had a feeling of being present at the nativity of a secret miracle that the public knew nothing about. However, the whole world would hear about it very soon.’’

The commanders of the first and the third crews (Shonin and Shatalov) joined in the training on 17 August. The second crew (Leonov, Kubasov and Kolodin) began to train on 18 September. The members of the fourth crew were each busy with his individual tasks. Dobrovolskiy’s assignment was to the Contact project, testing the rendezvous and docking techniques for the N1-L3 lunar programme, and he did not

Cosmonauts Sevastyanov (left) and Nikolayev shown on TV from Soyuz 9 during a communication session of their record-breaking mission in 1970.

Photos of cosmonauts training in the DOS-1 simulator are extremely rare. Here, an unidentified cosmonaut is in the commander’s seat, facing the main control panel.

begin DOS training until January 1971, after the cancellation of the N1-L3. After his Soyuz 9 mission Sevastyanov spent several months recuperating, and so did not start DOS training until October 1970. However, as was usual for cosmonauts who had just made their first flight, he was frequently sent on goodwill visits, both to the member republics of the USSR and to foreign countries. The third crewmember, Voronov, was also initially involved in another project. As a result, the fourth crew did not begin serious training for DOS until January 1971, and expected to have at least 18 months before making their flight.