Category Salyut – The First Space Station

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.

The final meeting of the State Commission started at 6.00 p. m. on 4 June. In the past these sessions had been fairly ceremonial in nature because all the details had already been resolved and the purpose was to confirm readiness for the launch. The most interesting part of the session was always the presentation of the cosmonauts. However, this occasion set a precedent. Dobrovolskiy, Volkov, Patsayev, Leonov, Kubasov and Kolodin were seated in a line behind a long table. The men who had been assigned to fly looked serious, almost anxious. According to Leonov they even appeared to have been frightened by the sudden change in their schedule. Established in mid-February, Dobrovolskiy’s crew knew that they should have had more time to train – another month at least, to prepare themselves for the next visit to Salyut. Leonov’s crew held their heads low, clenched their fingers, and appeared nervous. Behind them sat the Soyuz 10 crew. The tension in the air was oppressive.

Kamanin introduced the prime crew. As he announced the names, the cosmonauts stood up. Dobrovolskiy briefly said that his crew was ready to conduct the assigned tasks.

At the session, Leonov was very disappointed: “At the previous session I thanked the Commission for their trust. Now I can only express my regret about what has happened.’’

How about Kubasov? He felt especially guilty because his ailment meant neither of his crewmembers would be allowed to fly.

After just 20 minutes the meeting was concluded.

The famous journalist Mihail Rebrov was present: “I recall the intense silence in the room of the State Commission during the announcement of the decision. Then an explosion of protest! Leonov and Kolodin defended their right to fly the mission, saying that they knew the station better, that they had trained for longer, and that the promotion of Volkov from the backup crew would not have complicated their task. However, the State Commission had made its decision: the backup crew would fly. On the faces of the two crews you could feel the tension, envy… Everything had happened unexpectedly and painfully. Kolodin suffered more than the others. The anger was apparent on his face.’’

Reportedly, Kubasov approached Chertok and apologised. “I believed I had only caught a cold – that it would pass in a week and nothing would be visible on the X – ray scan.’’ No one could console him. The great irony is that the diagnosis of the physicians proved to be spurious. A more detailed medical examination in Moscow showed him to be healthy! It was decided that he must have an allergy to the spray applied to the trees at Baykonur. Many years later, however, Kubasov revealed that the pollen from the trees flowering in the late-season spring had initiated his allergy. What was certain was that the dark spot on his lung wasn’t the onset of tuberculosis.

Another irony is that the comprehensive medical screening failed to establish that Patsayev had a chronic kidney inflammation.

Thus, the incorrect diagnosis of tuberculosis symptoms on Kubasov’s lung led to a healthy cosmonaut being grounded and one with a chronic medical problem being launched into space!

At 7.00 p. m., shortly after the conclusion of the State Commission, Dobrovolskiy, Volkov and Patsayev gave their press conference. Sitting between Kamanin and the Soyuz 10 crew, they were now relaxed and replied to the questions enthusiastically. The journalists knew Volkov as a veteran, but Dobrovolskiy and Patsayev were new. There were so many journalists, with so many questions, that as the room became uncomfortably hot Volkov suggested that they go outside, which they did, and the session was concluded with the crew sitting on a bench with their jackets off and their sleeves rolled up.

The Soviet space journalists knew that they were expected to ask only about the cosmonauts’ lives, their backgrounds, their families, and stories about their training;

“You could feel the tension between the crews,” observed a reporter at the dramatic meeting of the State Commission when the ‘second crew’ was named to fly instead of the ‘first crew’. Leonov, Kubasov and Kolodin sat dejectedly with Dobrovolskiy, Volkov and Patsayev.

The mood was more relaxed at the press conference following the State Commission meeting: Yeliseyev (left), Volkov, Dobrovolskiy, Patsayev, Kamanin and Shatalov.

“Soyuz 11 was a difficult assignment”. Volkov (left), Dobrovolskiy and Patsayev after the press conference. (From the private collection of Rex Hall)

not about the upcoming mission, the major tasks and the planned experiments. Once the mission was underway TASS would publish all that was necessary. The excited cosmonauts spoke willingly, often simultaneously. They jumped from topic to topic. They began by speaking about themselves, in particular about their early years, switched to their training, and then returned to their childhood years. At one point, Patsayev spoke of Korolev. Despite tradition, Dobrovolskiy felt obliged to offer an insight into their mission. As he put it: “Soyuz 10 inaugurated work with the orbital station. Our mission is to complete the next stage of the work begun by Soyuz 10.” The official story was that the Soyuz 10 crew had not been meant to enter Salyut. Volkov said the Soyuz 10 mission was “rather successful”, and that “Soyuz 11 has a difficult assignment”. Of course, the journalists knew that with these words Volkov was saying that complex manoeuvres and a docking operation were to be attempted, and that the crew would board the station. After half an hour, the cosmonauts drew the unusual conference to an end because they had to prepare flight documentation.

But before they departed Volkov and Patsayev shared a cigarette offered by one of the journalists.

Interestingly, after the press conference Patsayev went to Leonov’s room in the Cosmonaut Hotel to apologise. He especially respected Leonov, and was not happy at being nominated for his first mission into space in such circumstances.

On 5 June the final crew for Soyuz 11 were introduced to the launch team at the traditional preflight meeting. Almost 3,000 people gathered at the base of the rocket. There were generals, officers, soldiers, technicians, engineers, politicians, designers, and even some people from the other launch pads. For the first time there were a lot of women present – Korolev’s colleagues say that he had not wanted woman on the pad, believing that they would be unlucky for the forthcoming mission. But on this occasion it appeared that everyone at Baykonur wanted to see the cosmonauts who were to lift off the next day for one of the most important missions in the history of cosmonautics. They formed a ring in front of the rocket, with the cosmonauts in the centre, holding flowers.

Visibly excited, Dobrovolskiy said: “While on my way here, I prepared a speech. Now, seeing your smiles, I’ll simply say, dear comrades and friends, thank you very much for your effort. We will do everything that is necessary to complete our task.’’ It was traditional for the prime and backup crews to take a brief walk in homage to their predecessors, but Leonov did not wish to participate, and therefore his crew remained in place. In fact, Leonov and Kubasov had not even wished to attend the ceremony. When Kamanin had told them that they must do so, Kubasov replied: “If I am healthy then I must fly. If I am sick, I should not be there.’’

When the ceremony was over, the journalists went to see the cosmonauts’ room in the Cosmonaut Hotel. It was not very large, but contained three beds, chairs and a table in the middle draped with a white tablecloth. There were also three displays of flowers which the cosmonauts had picked nearby to freshen up the room. There was a fridge with mineral water, but despite the weather the physicians had ordered the cosmonauts not to add ice to the water. In the meantime, the prime crew had a final session with Mishin and his engineers. At this meeting an unusual photograph was taken showing the three men in an embrace with Mishin and ex-cosmonaut General Nikolayev, who was now one of the training leaders at the TsPK.

Mission commander Lieutenant-Colonel Georgiy Dobrovolskiy, flight engineer Vladislav Volkov and research engineer Viktor Patsayev found themselves on the threshold of space earlier than they or anyone else had expected.

Specific references

1. Kamanin, N. P., Hidden Space, Book 4. Novosti kosmonavtiki, 2001, pp. 313— 316 (in Russian).

2. Chertok, B. Y., Rockets and People – The Moon Race, Book 4. Mashinostrenie, Moscow, 2002, pp. 305—315 (in Russian).

3. Scott, David and Leonov, Alexei. Two Sides of the Moon – Our Story of the Cold War Space Race. Simon & Schuster, 2004, pp. 259—262.

4. Novosti kosmonavtiki, No. 3, 2005 (Interview with Valeriy Kubasov).

When the DOS programme started in early 1970, it was only one of several manned space projects. In addition to the 12 cosmonauts assigned to the DOS crews there was a group of ten cosmonauts in training at the TsPK for projects involving other versions of the Soyuz. Pavel Popovich led the 20 military cosmonauts in the Almaz group. Valeriy Bykovskiy led the now much reduced lunar group. There was also a team in training for the Spirala ‘rocket plane’ project. Because the facilities were in constant use, some of the simulators were in need of significant maintenance. The mockup of the DOS-1 station was not able to be installed at the TSPK until October 1970, barely four months before (on the target schedule) the first crew were due to be launched.

Having worked 24 hours a day, the Khrunichev factory managed to deliver three stations to the TsKBEM in December 1970 for testing.

The Ministry of General Machine Building formed the DOS-1 State Commission, drawing its members from the leading people responsible for the design and testing of the spacecraft, training the cosmonauts, launch preparations, mission control and recovery activities. By tradition, at the final meeting of a State Commission prior to a launch, representatives from the TsKBEM, the Baykonur cosmodrome and all the other institutions which participated in the preparation of the mission would assess their readiness. After the decision of the date and time of launch, Kamanin would present the prime and backup crews. Since 1966 the State Commissions for Soyuz flights had been chaired by Major-General Kerim Kerimov, one of the Ministry of General Machine Building’s directorate chiefs. He had previously been responsible for developing and operating the facilities of the Strategic Rocket Forces. At the inaugural meeting of the new State Commission in late December 1970, the Chief Designers reported on the status of the programme, and the progress in constructing the two stations and the 7K-T ferries for the Soyuz 10 and Soyuz 11 missions. As a result of problems testing its subsystems, it would not be possible to launch DOS-1 in February as hoped, and its launch was rescheduled for 15 March 1971. There was an argument about the duration of the first missions. Mishin and the medical experts of the Institute for Biomedical Problems (IBMP) in Tushino, which was the most prestigious of the civilian space medicine institutions, wanted the first crew to make a 30-day flight, but Kamanin and the physicians of the Central Air Force Scientific Research Hospital (TsVNIAG) argued for a maximum target of 25 days; the issue was left unresolved.

Shortly after the meeting, General Kutakhov, the Commander in Chief of the Air Force, visited the TsKBEM to inspect progress with the first station. Mishin tried to convince him to overrule Kamanin and support a 30-day flight for the first mission, but Kutakhov diplomatically replied that the matter should be decided by aerospace physicians and those who were responsible for training the cosmonauts. Although Mishin inferred from this that Kutakhov supported Kamanin, this was not the case. Aware that his days were numbered, Kamanin wrote to Kutakhov proposing to retire in favour of his aide, Major-General Leonid Goreglyad. But Kutakhov had his own candidate, a man who had worked under his command many years ago – cosmonaut Vladimir Shatalov. Kamanin thought that the more experienced Goreglyad would be a better choice, at least until Shatalov had matured as a manager.

In general the crew training was efficient, and the cosmonauts divided their time between the facilities in Zvyozdniy and Kaliningrad as necessary. One of the most important military experiments, which was to be done by both of the DOS-1 crews, was to monitor the launch of intercontinental ballistic missiles. In the early days of February 1971, Shonin’s and Leonov’s crews went to Baykonur for special training. Flying in a Tu-104 aircraft, they observed night launches of ballistic missiles using the Svinetz (‘Lead’) apparatus which was to be installed on the station. However, on 5 February, soon after their return, Shonin missed a session of important quality control and testing (KIS) training in Kaliningrad, apparently because he was drunk. A furious Mishin called Kamanin and loudly announced his firm decision: ‘‘He’ll never fly again in my spaceships!’’ Kamanin called Shonin, and promptly realised how stupid Shonin had been. Kamanin had received reports of Shonin’s drinking habits in March 1970 but, having been impressed by Shonin on the Soyuz 6 mission,

had taken no action. Now Kamanin realised that for months the TsPK managers had been covering for a drunken cosmonaut. This left Kamanin with no option. Shonin pleaded his case: “Take my Hero’s star, strip me of my colonel’s rank, but please don’t take my spaceflight from me!’’ Shonin had received the Gold Star of Hero of the Soviet Union for his space flight, and it was the highest honour the nation could award a military officer. Leonov, who served as one of the deputies to Kuznyetsov, the head of the TsPK, approached Kamanin in an attempt to defend Shonin, but it was too late.[28]

Kamanin now suggested the strongest military cosmonaut, Shatalov, to command the first crew. Although this reinstated the crew nominated by the TsKBEM in May 1970, Mishin was against the idea. He sought to exploit Shonin’s dismissal to call for assigning an all-civilian crew to the first DOS-1 mission: Yeliseyev would be in command, with Kubasov as flight engineer and Rukavishnikov as research engineer. Of course, Kamanin rejected this. After much argument, Mishin was obliged to accept Shatalov as the commander of the first crew. Dobrovolskiy took Shatalov’s place on the third crew, and Lieutenant-Colonel Aleksey Gubaryev, a rookie from the second group of military cosmonauts, was given command of the fourth crew. In this reshuffle, only Leonov’s crew remained untouched.

Shatalov (foreground) and Volkov training with photo-equipment.

After Shonin’s dismissal, Shatalov (second from the left) joined the ‘first crew’ with 2 months remaining to the launch of the DOS-1 station. Here he, Yeliseyev (left) and Rukavishnikov listen to Deputy Chief Designer Yakov Tregub, the head of manned flight control. (From the book Life – A Drop in the Sea, courtesy astronaut. ru)

On 12 February 1971, with the launch of the first space station imminent, the crews were changed for the third time:

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

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

• Crew 3: Georgiy Dobrovolskiy, Vladislav Volkov and Viktor Patsayev

• Crew 4: Aleksey Gubaryev, Vitaliy Sevastyanov and Anatoliy Voronov

However, as events transpired, this plan did not last.

Specific references

1. Kamanin, N. P., Hidden Space, Book 4. Novosti kosmonavtiki, 2001, pp. 153— 160 and 260—262 (in Russian).

2. Yeliseyev, A. S., Life – A Drop in the Sea. ID Aviatsiya and kosmonavtika, Moscow, 1998, pp. 70—72 (in Russian).

DOS cosmonauts. Sitting: Leonov (left), Yeliseyev, Shatalov, Rukavishnikov and Kubasov. Standing: Kolodin (left), Dobrovolskiy, Volkov and Patsayev. (From the private collection of Rex Hall)

BETWEEN THE SEA AND SKY

“About space?” began cosmonaut Dobrovolskiy when asked the inevitable question by the famous space journalist Alexandar Romanov, “I must admit, I never dreamt about it.” The interview occurred in July 1969 during the tour by Frank Borman, the first American astronaut to visit the Soviet Union. All the TsPK’s cosmonauts – veterans and rookies – gathered in Zvyozdniy to meet the man who commanded the Apollo 8 mission which orbited the Moon in December 1968. Dobrovolskiy had been seated on one of the rear benches, and Romanov took the opportunity to talk to him in advance of Borman’s arrival. “I’m from Odessa,” Dobrovolskiy continued, “where people dream only of the sea and travelling across the ocean. The majority of my friends joined the navy.’’

“But you became a cosmonaut?’’ Romanov prompted.

Dobrovolskiy smiled and looked at the sky: “First, there was aviation. I devoted ten years of my life to aviation; my happiest years. I cannot imagine myself without flying. It is an awesome feeling to sit in the cockpit of a plane which is totally in your control. And in front of you – blue heavens! I am still in love with the sky. I’m not saying I ‘love’ it, rather I’m ‘in love’ with the sky. But, now I don’t fly so much, and without flying, I’m like. . .’’

‘‘But in space nothing is really blue,’’ Romanov interjected, ‘‘it’s black.’’

‘‘In space something else attracts you. I wish so much to look at the Earth from the altitude of space! Gagarin was the first to see her blue aureole. Now we call her the Blue Planet. Listen to how that sounds: the Blue Planet! I don’t think the beauty of space could ever extinguish our love for Earth. Do you remember the song with the lyric: ‘Anywhere carried away by our rockets, we always return to you, the blue Earth’?’’

Although it was brief, this interview painted an accurate picture of Dobrovolskiy. His colleagues, to whom he was Zhora, said he was born to fly. His flying biography includes the phrase: ‘‘He flies calmly.’’ This is a very rare description to hear, even when talking of the best pilots. Yes, peace and wellbeing are probably the real words

to describe the character and life of Dobrovolskiy, a surname which, fittingly, means “a man of goodwill”. Blond, tall, broad-shouldered and tough, he was kind-hearted and had a contagious belly laugh. His accent remained ‘broad Odessa’, and he had a sense of humour typical of someone from that region. At the Air Force school, his friends nicknamed him ‘Odessa’, and he was proud of it.

Life was tough on Georgiy Timofeyevich Dobrovolskiy.[42] He was born on 1 June 1928 in Odessa on the coast of the Black Sea, in Ukraine. His family was Russian, and lived in the suburb of Blizhniy Melnitza (‘the mills neighbourhood’). His father Timofey Trofimovich left when Zhora was two years old, and he was raised by his mother Mariya Alekseyevna. ‘‘She is a marvellous woman,’’ he said of his mother. ‘‘She represented an ideal. She faced hardship. Without a husband, she had to work to feed us. Firstly she worked in a shop, then in a cannon factory. No matter how tough her life was, I never saw her complain, be sad, in bad mood or in despair.’’

As a little boy Zhora often asked about his father, but his mother did not say and only later did he learn from relatives that his father had been a member of Soviet counterintelligence, and one day had left home and never returned.

Zhora liked his hometown, the sea and the sky. Lying on the shore, he spent hours watching the ships pass by and enjoying the beauty of the cloud formations. He ran and played with his friends on streets which, 20 years previously, a student of the technical high school had walked – Sergey Korolev. Four years prior to Zhora’s birth, Korolev designed a light plane and dreamed of rockets and space. A quarter of a century later, they met.

‘‘I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and no good fairies brought me

gifts,” Dobrovolskiy observed. “Of course, I had plenty of catapults and scooters – but I made them myself.”

The Second World War had a deep impact on his life. He was 13 years old when it began for the USSR. He recalled how the ships of the Black Sea Fleet put up a heavy barrage against German bombers, illuminating the dark sky with shell bursts and the tracers of machine-gun bullets. But bombs still fell onto the city, destroying buildings and killing many people. In autumn 1941, after 73 days of defending the city, the soldiers of the Red Army and the sailors of the Black Sea Fleet were forced to abandon their positions and evacuate. In the city, only the partisan cells remained to continue to offer resistance. Zhora, who had just finished his sixth grade at high school No. 99, remembered for the rest of his life the day that the invaders entered the town in which he had been born. From behind the corner of one building he saw one young saboteur make a bomb attack on a column of tanks. He wanted so much to participate in the resistance, and soon he was in action. In his first act of sabotage, he and one of his friends punctured the tires of military trucks. But his life changed dramatically when he encountered a real partisan, and then became an enthusiastic member of the underground. He began by providing information on the movements of the enemy forces, and by carrying ammunition. His next action was much braver: one night he and a friend attacked a German soldier. However, knowing that the SS officers were the cruelest, he yearned to kill at least one of them. In February 1944 his neighbour gave him a Beretta revolver. He was so proud. But on setting out for his next action he was stopped near his home, and the revolver that he carried was found. At the local headquarters of the SS he was beaten by a rubber truncheon and subjected to electric-shock torture. He lost consciousness several times. His fingers were broken. As a result of this ordeal, his hands and fingers remained marked. He refused to name his friends, and did not disclose the location of other weapons. At his tribunal he pleaded guilty only to possessing a revolver, for which he received a 25-year sentence of hard labour. In the 23 February 1944 edition of Molya, a news sheet issued by the Nazis during the occupation of Odessa, it was reported that the Military Field Tribunal had ordered “Dobrovolskiy, Georgiy, of Odessa, 5, Pishenin Lane, 25 years of penal servitude for possession of a Beretta revolver which was in working order.” In fact, by the standards of the time, he had been treated leniently: all adult saboteurs arrested with a weapon were summarily executed.

Dobrovolskiy had resolved to leap from the lorry which was to take him away. He knew the back streets well, and was sure that he would be able to escape. But his mother came to see him off. Running alongside the truck, she cried: “Don’t worry, son. It will be all right.’’ He realised that if he tried to escape, the Nazis would seek out his mother to punish her. In fact, the situation was not without hope, because the Red Army was approaching Odessa. On the other hand, this drove the Nazis to ever greater oppression of the city. More than 20,000 people, including many prisoners, were executed, and Zhora feared that the remaining prisoners would be executed as the Nazis prepared to flee from the city. But at the last moment one of his relatives bribed a guard, and on 19 March, after less than a month in prison, Zhora managed to escape. As he made his way home, he saw a large pit full of executed prisoners just outside the city. Three weeks later, the Red Army liberated Odessa. Zhora went to join the Red Army to fight to liberate the entire country, but was refused owing to his age – he was not yet sixteen.

ft was difficult to resume the school routine after a three-year hiatus, but under pressure from his mother Zhora passed his seventh and the eighth grades. The war in Europe ended in May 1945. With a strong sense of love of the sea, he applied to enter the Odessa Nautical School but his application was submitted too late and he was unsuccessful. A friend suggested the recently opened Odessa Special Air Force School, observing that there he “would have the new uniform and, more important, good food”. Zhora therefore turned to his second love – the sky – and decided to enroll at the Air Force School. This was another of so many strange turns in his life. The Air Force School trained future military pilots. As an 18-year-old student there, Zhora flew solo for the first time. Although still in love with the sea, on discovering the beauty of the blue heavens he knew that the sky would be his life. ft was a tough time. He studied during the day, and unloaded ships in port at night. On graduating with a diploma in 1946, he had no difficulty in enrolling at the famous Chuguyev Military School for Air Force Pilots. He achieved maximum scores for his flying skills, but was not so strong on the theory side. He attempted to prepare himself for the physical loads of flying, especially liking dumbbell gymnastics and rod, jumps from a tower into water, and swimming. Remarkably, on one of the school’s breaks he had an opportunity to meet his father, who had remarried, and discovered that he had a 16-year-old half-brother, Aleksandar.

fn November 1950 Zhora graduated from Chuguyev as a fighter pilot of the Navy and was posted to the Sevastopol aviation regiment in the Donbas region, where he met many experienced pilots, even some who had participated in the Second World War, now working as instructors. Sometimes the ‘old’ and ‘young’ pilots simulated ‘dog fights’ in the air. On one such exercise, Zhora managed to escape one of the attackers commanded by a veteran pilot and then, using a complex manoeuvre, was able to get behind his ‘enemy’, becoming one of the few young pilots to ‘defeat’ a veteran. But he would remember this period of his life not for this ‘victory’, but for an unprecedented event concerning his first love: the sea. One day, while resting on a small hill enjoying the view of the stormy sea, he heard a cry for help and saw the head of girl, completely exhausted, in a foamy spray of pounding waves. Without a second’s thought, he jumped into the sea and managed to catch her before she sank. After struggling with the waves, he brought her to the shore. Meanwhile, seeing the drama, several people rushed to assist him. At first the girl was unconscious, but she soon recovered. ff he had not spotted her from his position up on the hill, she would certainly have drowned. ft was her fate to survive. Many years later, someone with the same determination would pull his body from a landed spacecraft and attempt to save his life – but in vain.

Zhora flew a variety of MiG, Yak and Lavochkin planes in all weather conditions, and often his inner peace and cool thinking enabled him to overcome difficulties. fn contrast to many other pilots, he liked parachute jumps, making 111 jumps in total. fn fact, when he joined the cosmonaut group he was appointed as an instructor for parachuting. fn October 1952, soon after finishing studies at the Evening University of Marxism-Leninism, he was posted to East Germany to defend

the border. On the NATO side, he could see American aircraft patrolling. He became fluent in German. In January 1955 he became a deputy squadron commander, responsible for political work, and soon thereafter, at the age of 27, he was promoted to the rank of captain. A local newspaper wrote about him in its serial, ‘Story of the Air Combat Masters’. In the autumn of 1956 he was posted once again, this time to the town of Valga in Estonia, pleasantly located by the Baltic Sea. He was very pedantic, always striving for perfection. With his height, stature and looks, he stood out amongst the pilots. On a visit to a local dance club he met Lyudmila Steblyova, a mathematician, and in 1957 they were married.

As a pilot and commander-educator, Zhora began to appreciate that he was weak on the theory side. He decided to enroll for a correspondence course at the Military Aeronautical Academy for Command and Navigation Staff of the Red Army Air Forces.[43]

Meanwhile, Lyudmila resumed her studies via the correspondence department of Leningrad University. In 1959 she gave a birth to daughter Marina. But when the physicians refused to permit the delighted husband and first-time father to visit his wife and baby, he found himself outside the hospital with a large bouquet of flowers. He had to resort to communicating with his wife via letters! In one, written when Marina was just a few days old, he wrote cheekily: ‘‘I don’t believe that she yet does not yet say ‘dad’. You are hiding this fact from me; confess!’’ To his father he sent a telegram – in fact, a poem – announcing the birth of his daughter.

In July 1961 he graduated from the Air Force Academy, specialising in command headquarters for the Military Air Force. One interesting detail – he passed the exam for fluency in a foreign language in German!

As an aeronautical engineer he continued to fly, served as deputy to the squadron

commander, headed the political section of the regiment, and was an instructor for parachute jumps. But he also had to become deeply involved with staff management. Although he was extremely happy, he sometimes had difficulty with some of his colleagues and would go home in the evening thoughtful and sad. With his family, however, he was stable, sensitive and attentive. Recalling this period, Lyudmila said that although he could come home exhausted, he was always ready to play with his dear daughter. “He was never violent, never rude, and never insulted me – although, of course, I wasn’t always right! Softly and kindly, he knew how to calm my anger, reducing my issues to nonexistent quarrels or pointless conflicts, and then, once the storm had abated, we laughed at the stupidity and absurdity of the dispute. He was very easy to live with.’’ His daughter Marina has many good memories: “For me, my father was the closest friend in my life. He always supported me. He used to tell everyone that he had the most beautiful daughter; that she was an excellent student; that she swam expertly; and that she was a remarkable dancer. When saying these things, he would look at me with a big smile. And naturally I would set out to learn something else in order to gain additional praise.’’

Three months before Zhora graduated from the Academy, Yuriy Gagarin became the first man to orbit the Earth, and shortly after Zhora’s graduation Gherman Titov spent an entire day in space. Across the Soviet Union, young pilots began to talk of making space flights. But Zhora, who at 33 was seven years older than Titov, was not one of them. He presumed that flying in space was for younger men. In any case, he liked to fly aircraft, liked his squadron, and liked to work with young pilots. But then in early 1962 the managers of the space programme decided to recruit military pilots possessing greater experience, test pilots, aeronautical engineers and officers knowl­edgeable of rocketry to fly the more advanced space missions planned for the future.

FINAL PREPARATIONS

As the cosmonauts were training for flights to the first space station, on 2 March 1971 the Council of Chief Designers met at the TsKBEM for its first session in relation to the DOS-1 work. The Council had been formed in late 1947 by Sergey Korolev to oversee the technical management of rocket and spacecraft develop­ment. It was chaired by Korolev, and originally comprised the six Chief Designers of the primary rocket design bureaus: Valentin Glushko for rocket engines, Nikolay Pilyugin for guidance systems, Viktor Kuznetsov for gyroscopes, Vladimir Barmin for launch equipment and Mikhail Ryazanskiy for radio-control systems. After the death of Korolev in January 1966 Vasiliy Mishin took his place. He now chaired the meeting. The main presentation was by Yevgeniy Shabarov, Bushuyev’s deputy for the testing of manned spacecraft, who said that all testing had been successfully completed and DOS-1 and the two Soyuz 7K-T ferries were ready to be sent to Baykonur. The preparations to launch the station – which was to be named Zarya (‘Dawn’) – were to begin on 9 March with a view to achieving a launch on 15 April. If all went well, the first crew would follow within five days. Mishin criticised the delays in vibration testing the DOS-1 mockup, and asked that this be completed by 29 March. There was also the issue of the warranty on the parachutes of the Soyuz, which would expire on 15 April. The Council also discussed the efficiency of the Igla rendezvous system. But the main concern was that the first phase of testing the station’s life support system, which had only recently been completed, had revealed a number of faults and it would not be possible to start the second phase of testing until these issues had been resolved. Interestingly, although there were less than 45 days remaining to the station’s planned launch, the question of how long the crews should occupy it remained undecided.

“One day in January 1962, my squadron commander invited me to his office. He asked me how I was doing, about my health, how I felt. Then, suddenly he stood up and asked me: ‘What do you think about space flight?’ I asked: ‘Me?’ He replied: ‘Yes, you Georgiy Timofeyevich!’ I didn’t know what he had in his mind, so I said nothing. Finally: ‘Don’t you want to fly to space? Think it over.’ That was all. How could I reject such a proposal? To fly far above the Earth in the emptiness of space. I remembered Jules Verne, Konstantin Tsiolkovskiy, and about our rockets that had already reached the Moon. I thought also of the fact that they judged my experience and knowledge to be necessary for the next step.’’

After consulting his wife, Zhora wrote to his commander, concluding the letter as follows:

I am asking for your permission to enroll in the cosmonaut school. To that, I wish to dedicate all my knowledge and, if necessary, my life.

Major Dobrovolskiy 5.3.62.

On 10 January 1963 Zhora was selected as a member of the Air Force’s second group of cosmonauts. This comprised 15 military pilots, navigators and engineers of the Strategic Rocket Forces, and included Shatalov, Filipchenko, Artyukhin, Dyomin, Gubaryev and Zholobov. Zhora moved with his wife and daughter to Zvyozdniy to begin training at the TsPK.

As Marina recalls, “My father liked friendship. In our 11-storey building lived the cosmonauts of the first and second groups: Gagarin, Titov, Teryeshkova, Komarov, Beregovoy. They were like members of the single spaceship crew – our building. My father especially respected the heroic past of cosmonaut Beregovoy.’’

It was a complex programme of theory classes, physical training, centrifuge work, parachuting and flying MiG-15, MiG-21, Tu-104 and IL-14 aircraft.[44] In the altitude chamber he experienced an air pressure reduced to that at a height of 5 km. There was also a chamber that was heated to a temperature exceeding 50°C, and during a single session Zhora shed several kilograms. One of the most difficult parts of the training for the majority of the cosmonauts was an ordeal known as the “chamber of silence’’. Zhora first encountered it in February 1964. He entered the chamber with his body covered with biosensors, and spent the next 10 days alone in total silence reading books on astronomy, mathematics and the German language. Interestingly, he also took with him a piece of wood and carved a doll for his daughter. He kept a diary of his activities. The test should have lasted one day longer, but in that case it would have ended on 8 March, which was International Women’s Day, and because the majority of the staff supervising the chamber were women they did not wish to miss this holiday.

Shatalov recalls those days: “Zhora stood apart from others by his extraordinary intensity. He prepared for every job deliberately, peacefully, methodically, never in a hurry, always with responsibility. As a great pilot, he learned the space techniques perfectly. He was extremely strict with himself: I remember in January 1963 when we, the new cosmonauts, met in Moscow prior to going to Zvyozdniy and someone suggested a glass of wine to toast the start of this new phase of our lives, and Zhora refused. At that time we did not appreciate his reaction, but later we realised that he was not a pretender. He soon became a favourite of the entire cosmonaut group. We trusted him, and loved him because of his modesty as well as his principles. As he never drank at all, at a party our wives forced him to taste alcohol – it was the first, and the last time I saw him with a glass in his hand.’’

Eduard Buynovskiy was another member of that cosmonaut group: “I remember Zhora as extremely sympathetic, always tidy, perfect, correct and well meant, and as a man who liked friendship.”

And as Yevgeniy Khrunov of the first group recalls: “Zhora always looked right in the eyes of everyone he spoke to – no matter whether the conversation was of a pleasant or an unpleasant nature. Working in the simulator, he did not spare efforts. Interestingly, he didn’t like simple tasks. He had to wait many years for his flight. I

Dobrovolskiy spent 8 years training for this historic space mission, including (top left, clockwise) in the altitude chamber, parachute jumping, simulating g-forces on a catapult seat and piloting aircraft.

know just how difficult that was. He was preparing for a long time, and in parallel helping others to train for their own missions. He participated in the organisation of almost every flight by a Soyuz spacecraft, all the time patiently continuing with his own training.”

The five women who entered cosmonaut training at the TsPK in the spring of 1962, about 7 months before the second group arrived, also have fond memories of Zhora. Most of the first group were annoyed to see women in the simulator. At that time, only two Soviet cosmonauts had flown in space and it was felt that there were a great many issues to be resolved before women could be allowed to fly. But at the heart of the matter was the fact that the women represented competition for flights. The women’s situation dramatically changed when the second group of men arrived. Whereas the young squadron pilots had made it very clear that they did not approve of the women, the new men, being generally older, more serious, more experienced, of higher rank, and of superior technical knowledge, both respected the women and treated them as colleagues. In the breaks between training sessions during the long hot summer, Zhora would buy them all ice creams.

From the moment he joined the ranks of the cosmonauts in January 1963 until he became the Soyuz 11 commander in June 1971, his life was a succession of exciting events. The general training took precisely two years. ft was the toughest thing the 37-year-old had ever done: “f doubt if f could stand it again.’’ He was immediately assigned to the second detachment formed to train for military space missions. Then in September 1966 Kamanin moved him to the group of seven military cosmonauts to train for the L1 circumlunar missions. However, even before they could finish the theory of flying to the Moon and the details of the L1 spacecraft they were joined by members of the TsKBEM’s first group of cosmonaut-engineers. This joint group, led by Aleksey Leonov, had seven military and four civilian cosmonauts, but Zhora was no longer a member.[45] But in June 1967, when Boris Volynov was transferred to the group training for the mission on which two Soyuz spacecraft were to dock in space, Zhora took his place in the L1 group.[46]

ft was during this period that the Dobrovolskiy family gained its second child – daughter Nataliya. At that time, Marina was aged seven. “The first summer after the birth of Nataliya, my father and f went on a vacation to Yalta. Mother remained in town with Natashenka. My father stayed in a nearby hostel, and f lived with grandmother. Early in the morning – no later than 7.00 o’clock – daddy came to fetch me and we went to the shore. He loved to walk in shorts and white jacket, with our sports bag. f had short-cut hair, just like a boy. f liked to walk next to my father along the street. One day we decided to visit the ship Ivan Franco. After buying the tickets we had some time before its departure, so we went to the beach, and on our return we saw the ship drawing away from the pier. f was so disappointed, but it was impossible to complain to my father. Once he said to me: ‘Let us imagine a sign which when we show it to one another we must smile.’ This sign was secret, known only to he and I. Whenever I was distressed, he would smile and show me that sign. After my mood was restored, I would also smile and then we would laugh.’’

In November 1967 Zhora and several cosmonauts of the lunar group, including Leonov and Popovich, went to Baykonur to watch the launch of the Proton rocket carrying an unmanned L1 spacecraft. The plan was for the spacecraft to pass around the Moon and return to Earth, but the launch failed as a result of a problem with the engines of the second stage. In early 1968 Kamanin and Mishin chose the first four crews from the 14 cosmonauts in training for the L1 spacecraft.[47] Zhora was given command of the fourth crew, with Georgiy Grechko as his flight engineer. But in September 1968 it was decided that only the first three crews would be needed. For several months, he worked with the group in training for the Almaz military space station, and was then made commander of the third (backup) crew for the double Soyuz mission, and between August and December 1968 he trained to fly the active spacecraft. Then in May 1969, after Soyuz 4 and Soyuz 5 had achieved this goal, he joined the group of six cosmonauts on the project which was to test (in Earth orbit) techniques required to rendezvous and dock in lunar orbit without the assistance of the Earth. This was preparatory work for the N1-L3 lunar landings. Pairs of Soyuz spacecraft were to test the L3 docking system, which was known as ‘Contact’. The TsKBEM built four spacecraft equipped for these tests. Four two-man crews trained at the TsPK, and cosmonauts from recent Soyuz missions joined the group to serve as backups. The initial plan was to fly the first joint mission in August-September 1970, and the second in early 1971. At the end of 1969, after the cancellation of the L1 project, most of the lunar cosmonauts were transferred to the Contact group. The Kremlin issued the surprising order that the 100th anniversary of Lenin’s birth must be celebrated by a record 17-20-day space mission using one of the four Contact spacecraft! Accordingly, the passive ship from the first pair was reassigned to this long- duration mission – which became Soyuz 9. With only three ships remaining, it would not be possible to undertake two Contact tests. However, the future of the N1-L3 was itself in doubt. Nevertheless, the Contact cosmonauts continued to train alongside the three crews assigned to the new long-duration mission. Zhora trained from time to time with Pyotr Kolodin and the civilian engineers Oleg Makarov and Vitaliy Sevastyanov. In mid-March 1970 Kamanin and Mishin formed two prime and two backup crews for the active and passive ships of the sole remaining Contact test. Zhora was commander of the backup crew for the active ship, with Makarov as his flight engineer.

The failures of the N1 rocket severely diminished the prospects for the L3 project and reduced the need for the Contact mission. But the era of the space station was opening, and in May 1970 Kamanin, knowing that Zhora’s training had focused on rendezvous and docking, nominated him to command the fourth DOS crew. From

“He was fanatically strict with himself.” Dobrovolskiy was a serious person during training, but relaxed with friends. With General Beregovoy (right) whom Dobrovolskiy especially respected.

September 1970 to mid-February 1971 he trained with Sevastyanov and Voronov. When cosmonaut Shonin, commander of the first DOS crew, was dismissed after an indiscretion, Kamanin replaced Shonin with Shatalov and gave Zhora command of the third crew. Zhora was expecting to fly the first mission to DOS-2 along with Volkov and Patsayev. But then fate intervened with the failure of Soyuz 10 to dock, and Zhora’s crew found itself backing up the prime crew and in line to fly to DOS-1 in July 1971. When a member of the prime crew was grounded for medical reasons just days before the scheduled launch, Zhora’s crew got the opportunity to become the first crew to board Salyut!

Marina Dobrovolskiy was 11 years old when her father left Zvyozdniy to travel to Baykonur: “He had never discussed his business things in my presence. However, I remember him saying the word “soon’’; he said this to my mother prior to the flight. When he left on these trips he always had a smile, knowing that he would soon be back home. I was never anxious, but I was always eager for him to return.’’ Asked if she had any premonition of the forthcoming tragedy, she replied negatively.

When a journalist asked Zhora about his feelings on the eve of his first flight into space, he said: “I would say that every space flight is a form of combat, because in a very short time you must give it your maximum, your experience, your knowledge – everything you have accumulated over your entire life. For those people who wish to participate in such combat, space is the right place.’’

Q: “And where is the sense of life?’’

“That is a difficult question. Probably it is in the accomplishment of the highest goals. Without motivation, life is mere existence.’’

On the night before launch he was asked: “Are you excited Georgiy?’’

“Yes, I am. All the time I think only of the launch, the flight and the experiments. We have prepared for every anomalous situation, but to be honest I am as excited as if I were about to approach a terrible enemy. Space does not forgive mistakes.’’

Meanwhile, the crews were wrapping up their training programmes in Zvyozdniy and Kaliningrad. On 9 March Shatalov, Yeliseyev and Rukavishnikov spent more than 14 hours in the Soyuz simulator, rehearsing each major phase of the mission – launch, rendezvous and docking, undocking, re-entry and landing – in the process overcoming five simulated anomalies, including the failure of the main engine and an excessive rate of fuel consumption. Leonov’s crew had a similar session the next day, and Dobrovolskiy’s crew three days later. This completed the formal training. On 16 March they had their final exams, and achieved the best possible score. Three days later, the State Commission confirmed that an attempt would be made to launch the station in the period 15-18 April, but left undecided the duration of the first crew’s mission.

Did anyone in the West have a suspicion of the imminence of such an important event in cosmonautics? Of course, Brezhnyev’s speech and the newspaper articles by Academicians Keldysh and Petrov had said that the Soviet Union was interested in a space station. Some of this was reported overseas. For example, on 16 March 1971 the Guardian in London published an article entitled ‘Russia Plans the First Station in Space’. And in an interview with the newspaper Socialist Industry, an unidentified Chief Designer (Mishin?) predicted: ‘‘It seems to me expedient to build in the near future a station in space near the Earth that would operate for a long time. The flight of Soyuz 9, which lasted 18 days, was an important step in this direction. A time will come when manned Soviet research laboratories will orbit the Earth.’’ Western newspapers speculated that the next long-duration manned mission might coincide with the 24th Congress of the Soviet Communist Party, which was to open on 30 March.

On 20 March the three crews travelled to Baykonur on separate Tu-104 aircraft, and on arrival went to the so-called ‘Cosmonaut Hotel’. Over the next three days they performed final rehearsals on board the Soyuz 10 spacecraft in the Assembly – Test Building (MIK) near Pad No. 1; the pad from which first Sputnik and later Gagarin had lifted off. The rocket was being checked elsewhere in the building. Chelomey’s preparation facility was near Pad No. 82, from which his Protons were launched. The DOS-1 station and its launcher were being checked out in one building while construction was underway nearby of the building in which the spacecraft for the Almaz programme would be prepared.

The cosmonauts flew back to Moscow in order to attend the meeting of the VPK Military-Industrial Commission on 25 March. Mishin said that it should be possible to launch the station in the period 15-20 April, with Soyuz 10 lifting off 3 days later. He recommended that Shatalov, Yeliseyev and Rukavishnikov’s mission should last a month, and that 25 days later Leonov, Kubasov and Kolodin should set off for a mission of up to 45 days. It was decided to assign the first crew a 30-day mission, but to postpone making a decision on the length of the second mission until the state of health of the first crew had been assessed upon their return. However, looking on the optimistic side, the second crew were to train on the presumption that they were to conduct a 45-day mission.

The Soyuz 10 crew before their final training: Rukavishnikov (left), Yeliseyev and Shatalov. (From the private collection of Rex Hall)

As ‘known’ cosmonauts, Shatalov and Yeliseyev were directed to attend the 24th Congress of the Soviet Communist Party. Less than a month before the launch of the first space station, two members of the prime crew spent 6 days as delegates at a political meeting! In accordance with tradition, the cosmonauts visited Red Square and Gagarin’s office in Zvyozdniy. Then there was a final meeting with Mishin, Bushuyev, Chertok and Semyonov at the TsKBEM, which was attended by Nikolay Lobanov, who was the Chief Designer of the Scientific-Research and Experimental Institute of the Parachute Landing Service, and Gay Severin, the General Designer of OKB Zvezda which supplied the spacecraft crew couches and the suits and other apparatus required to undertake spacewalks.

On 6 April the three crews returned to Baykonur. They conducted a final round of training on board the space station and the Soyuz 10 spacecraft, and then these were mated with their launchers. On 9 April the State Commission decided to install the Proton on the pad at 7.00 a. m. local time on 15 April, with a view to launching it at 6.40 a. m. (4.40 a. m. Moscow Time) on 19 April. General Kerimov, who chaired the meeting, expressed the Kremlin’s dissatisfaction with the name ‘Zarya’. It appeared that China was developing a rocket with this name. The Kremlin wanted the station to be renamed. In fact, there was another reason to change the name, as ‘Zarya’ was the radio call-sign of the mission control centre in communications with a manned spacecraft. Kerimov suggested that the name on the side of the vehicle be repainted. Chertok objected, pointing out that as the Americans would surely not be able to photograph the station in orbit it was unnecessary to repaint the vehicle! After much discussion, someone proposed Salyut (‘Салют’; meaning ‘Salutation’ or ‘Greeting’)

It is traditional for cosmonauts to visit Gagarin’s office at the TsPK in Zvyozdniy prior to departing for Baykonur. Here Volkov (left), Yeliseyev, Dobrovolskiy and Shatalov (foreground) look on as Leonov writes in the visitors’ book. A picture of Konstantin Tsiolkovskiy hangs on the wall.

and this was unanimously accepted. As there was no time to repaint the name, the station was mated with the third stage of the Proton bearing the name ‘Zarya’ on its side.[29]

The final meeting of the State Commission prior to the launch of DOS-1 was held on 18 April. After representatives of the TsKBEM and the TsKBM reported on the status of the Proton and its payload, the preparations for Soyuz 10 were reviewed.

At 4.39 a. m. Moscow Time on Monday, 19 April 1971, Salyut (DOS-7K No. 1) was successfully launched as the world’s first space station – it was only 16 months since the decision was taken to initiate the programme!

The initial parameters of the station’s orbit were 200 x 222 km at an inclination of 51.6 degrees to the equator, with a period of 88.5 minutes. Although the launch had been flawless, the radio-telemetry during the first revolution showed a problem: the cover that had protected the aperture of the main scientific module during the ascent through the atmosphere had failed to jettison. As this module held 90 per cent of the observational apparatus, the station’s scientific results would be severely curtailed if the cover could not be released.

Right: Three weeks prior to their launch, Yeliseyev and Shatalov attend the 24th Congress of the Soviet Communist Party. Left: Afterwards, in Red Square, with Rukavishnikov.

The Soyuz 10 cosmonauts with the mission’s technical managers: Semyonov (left), Bushuyev, Yeliseyev, Chertok, Mishin, Lobanov, Shatalov, Severin and Rukavishni – kov.

Although the Soviet news outlets featured the launch, other than describing Salyut as “an orbital scientific station” their reports revealed little of its nature and mission. However, the fact that it bore a name at all implied that it was a substantially new type of spacecraft, and the report that three ships had been stationed in the Atlantic to communicate with it was a clue that it might be associated with the manned space programme.[30] TASS said the flight was going as planned, and that an adjustment to its orbit had been made. The routine phrase “functioning normally” was applied to the performance of its systems. The bland statement of its purpose as being “to perfect the elements of the design and on board systems, and to conduct scientific research and experiments in space” simply meant wait and see.

Meanwhile, at Baykonur the final preparations were initiated to launch Soyuz 10. To preclude injuries at this late stage, the crew were prohibited from participating in sporting activities such as basketball, handball, volleyball, tennis and soccer – all of which were popular among the cosmonauts. However, they were allowed to run 10 kilometres per day to maintain their fitness. Anyone coming into close contact with them wore a protective face mask to minimise the risk of passing on any respiratory infections that might jeopardise the planned duration of the mission.

Early on the morning of 20 April the rocket bearing Soyuz 10 was installed on Pad No. 1. Several hours later, the State Commission presented the cosmonauts to space journalists. The prime crew was Colonel Vladimir Shatalov (44), commander; Aleksey Yeliseyev (37), flight engineer; and Nikolay Rukavishnikov (39), research engineer. The backup crew was Colonel Aleksey Leonov (37), commander;

The DOS-1 station in the Assembly-Test Building at Baykonur. On the left is the transfer compartment, with the smaller (white cylinder in the middle) and larger working compartments (right). On the transfer compartment can be seen two folded solar panels, a rendezvous antenna, and the docking port (far left).

A view of the DOS-1 station in the Assembly-Test Building in which the vehicle has been partially rotated. The ‘hole’ on the right of the main compartment is the aperture to enable the main scientific equipment to see out. It was sealed by a protective cover for launch.

Final testing of the DOS-1 station prior to mating with the Proton launch vehicle. The rendezvous antennas are deployed upward and to the left of the passive docking system. The central hole of the docking cone is to capture the head of the probe on the Soyuz. The TsKBEM’s logo is visible on the short conical adapted between the small and large working compartments (far left).

A Proton launch vehicle with the DOS-1 station on the pad at Baykonur. The wide part of the working compartment is exposed, but the narrower part and the transfer compartment are inside a shroud for the ascent through the atmosphere. The white support ring below is jettisoned after orbital insertion. The original name ‘Zarya’ is visible on the working compartment. Also visible is the white protective cover for the scientific equipment aperture.

Valeriy Kubasov (36), flight engineer; and Lieutenant-Colonel Pyotr Kolodin (41), research engineer.[31] And, of course, there was the support crew: Lieutenant-Colonel Georgiy Dobrovolskiy (43), commander; Vladislav Volkov (36), flight engineer; and Viktor Patsayev (38), research engineer.

Let us take a closer look at each member of the prime crew.

Engineers test systems in the propulsion module of the Soyuz 10 spacecraft in the Assembly-Test Building at Baykonur.

Yeliseyev, Shatalov and Rukavishnikov (right) in the Assembly-Testing Building at Baykonur. In the background is the engine cluster of the Soyuz launch vehicle.