Keeping the Orbiter dream alive
Shortly after the final decision to go the Vanguard route was announced on 9 September 1955, the secretary of defense directed the army to stop “all satellite-related study, research, development, and design work” and concentrate on its primary mission, the development of military missiles. With that order, the Huntsville and Pasadena groups lost all official support for further government-funded work on their satellite activities.
Many at Huntsville, Pasadena, and elsewhere (including Van Allen at Iowa) continued to harbor serious misgivings about the Vanguard decision. They believed that the army’s Redstone-based Jupiter C, being much further along in its development, would provide greater assurance of meeting the IGY schedule and objectives.
Thus, although the Orbiter name could no longer be mentioned externally, the basic concept did not die at the working level. Behind-the-scenes actions were undertaken during the next two years to keep that option open. That work continued on three fronts: at the ABMA at Huntsville, at JPL in Pasadena, and at the University of Iowa in Iowa City.
At the Army Ballistic Missile Agency A few days after the decision to commit the United States to the Vanguard approach, General Simon of Army Ordnance registered an angry protest. He asserted that, by fitting the Redstone with the larger scaled-Sergeant upper stages, they could launch an 18 pound satellite as
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early as January 1957. However, the navy’s Vanguard contractors—General Electric, Martin, Aerojet General, and Thiokol Chemical—responded with their own assurances of quick action, and Simon’s plea got nowhere.19 20
Homer Stewart, who had chaired the committee that had recommended Vanguard, believed that the Vanguard decision was a grievous mistake. Soon after the decision, he traveled to Huntsville, accompanied by JPL director William Pickering and their close associate, Jack E. Froehlich. Their purpose was to discuss how the Orbiter concept might be kept alive. At that meeting, Pickering committed to the use of the JPL scaled-Sergeant rockets as a substitute for the smaller Loki upper-stage rockets to increase the satellite weight capability. In addition, he offered his laboratory’s help in other ways, including use of the supersensitive Microlock telemetry and tracking system that had been developed under Eberhardt Rechtin’s leadership, and with satellite instrumentation, tracking operations, and ground data handling.
Out of those discussions came what they believed to be a “bullet-proof” plan. The RTV that was needed by the Jupiter missile program would be an adaptation of the Orbiter concept. It would be built in such a way that it could be used as a satellite launcher with only minor modifications.
Von Braun called a meeting of his senior staff soon after that meeting. He arrived with his usual beaming smile, saying:
They stopped us in the tracks with our satellite, but we are still in business with our reentry tests. Let’s go to work right away! We will build the upper-stage system for the testing of Jupiter nose cones, which we have been preparing since 1953, and we will launch the first Jupiter C next year, as planned. This will be perfectly legal. In fact, we have to do this anyway for our Jupiter missile project. At the time when we will be called upon to launch a satellite—and I’m sure that time will come—we will quickly add that third solid rocket stage, modify the guidance system, put the satellite on top, and we are in business, and even without transgressing the limitations they have clamped on us!21
When it became clear that some of the 12 Jupiter C test vehicles would not be needed for the nose cone-testing program, von Braun made another noteworthy decision. As reported later by Stuhlinger:
With tongue in cheek, von Braun decided that one of the Jupiter C vehicles should be set aside and carefully subjected to a “long-time storage test”; it was quietly understood that this vehicle represented a potential satellite launch rocket. As soon as permission could be obtained, that vehicle would be taken out of storage, and a third Sergeant stage, an attitude orientation system, and an ignition command receiver would be added. In a parallel action, Jack Froehlich at JPL put a number of [scaled] Sergeant rockets into a controlled environment “to study long-time effects on the propellant,” just in case.22
The master plan and schedule for the fully sanctioned RTV program was prepared jointly by ABMA and JPL in August 1955. The first nose cone reentry test flight was set for September 1956. They tacitly agreed that they could be ready for a first satellite
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launch about a year and a half after that first nose cone test, believing that that would provide sufficient lead time to avoid any conflict with their other programs.
Terminology has sometimes been confusing. Orbiter was the original designation for the four-stage satellite launcher. After the Orbiter project was officially set aside, Jupiter C denoted the multistage Redstone-based configuration, both the three-stage version used for nose cone testing, and, behind the scenes, for the four-stage version used later for the Explorer satellite launches.
The Jupiter C developed for the nose cone testing was also referred to as the RTV. That term was eventually applied to the satellite-launching version, as well. That was especially true during the satellite launch preparations at Cape Canaveral, when it was desired to create a public perception that just another regular Jupiter test launch was in progress.
After the launch of Explorer I, the satellite launcher was frequently referred to as Juno (eventually Juno I) to provide a softer connotation than the perhaps somewhat bellicose-sounding Jupiter name. In Roman mythology, Juno was the sister and wife of Jupiter, god of the sky.
Thus, Orbiter, Jupiter C, RTV, and Juno I have all been used from time to time to identify the Redstone-based satellite launcher. Within the proper context, all are correct.
The Juno name persisted beyond Juno I. Juno II used the Juno I spinning tub arrangement for the upper stages, but the Jupiter rocket was substituted for the Redstone as the first stage to provide a greater payload capability. Any use of the Juno III designation has been lost in obscurity. However, Juno IV was a Huntsville designation for an early concept for the Saturn I and IB, and Juno V referred to an early Saturn V concept.
Following the decision to go with Vanguard, the army continued to send technical information to the Vanguard project office in Washington. Von Braun and his representatives repeatedly offered to join forces with the Vanguard team. They suggested that a Vanguard satellite could be launched on top of a Redstone rocket, and went so far as to offer to launch the NRL-designed satellite under the Vanguard name, including painting the word Vanguard on the rocket’s side. Stuhlinger carried that offer separately to the Pentagon, to John Hagen (Vanguard project manager), and to Milton Rosen (Vanguard chief engineer). In all three cases, the answer was, “No, thanks.”23
In May 1956, the assistant secretary of defense (R&D) requested of the special assistant for guided missiles in the office of the secretary of defense that ABMA’s Jupiter C be supported as a backup to the Vanguard rocket. The response was that no such plans or preparations would be undertaken without indications of serious
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difficulties in the Vanguard program. As those difficulties did not openly surface until later, the request was denied.
On 1 February 1957, in response to a request from the Department of the Army, ABMA responded that the army Jupiter C could accommodate the scientific instruments being built for the Vanguard but not the large Vanguard sphere. The instruments could be repackaged fairly simply into a cylindrical configuration to fit the Jupiter C vehicle.
A few months later, in April, ABMA proposed to the chief R&D of the Department of the Army that it orbit, as a backup to Vanguard, six 17 pound satellites with the Jupiter C vehicles. They promised that the first of those would be orbited by September 1957. On 7 May, the Department of the Army formally responded by reiterating that there were no present plans for backing up Vanguard.
As a part of the continuing technical exchange between the ABMA and NRL efforts, General Medaris sent an ABMA satellite capability report to Vanguard’s Hagen in late May or early June 1957. However, on 21 June 1957, the Department of Defense, in the form of a personal visit by their General O’Meara, instructed General Medaris in no uncertain terms that ABMA’s mission was missiles, not satellites. As a result, Medaris felt compelled to recall this ABMA report from the Vanguard office. He later stated in a 1958 congressional inquiry (when the Congress was investigating the U. S. failure to beat the Soviets into space) that “in various languages, our fingers were slapped, and we were told to mind our own business, that VANGUARD was going to take care of the satellite problem.”24
Because of those rejections, and of the direct order to cease satellite work, von Braun felt compelled by mid-1957 to back off on his continuing efforts to obtain Defense Department support for their satellite launcher. Ernst Stuhlinger did not feel quite as constrained. In view of the continuing hints of Soviet progress toward launching a satellite, he attempted yet another appeal in late September. He went first to von Braun, who, stung by the repeated admonitions to stick to their primary mission, quipped, “If you wish to become nervous, do so—but leave me out! I cannot move anyway, as you well know!”
On 27 September 1957, only seven days before Sputnik 1 was launched, Stuhlinger again appealed to ABMA director General Medaris, stating his conviction that the Soviets were close to orbiting a satellite. “A Russian satellite [he said] will soon be in orbit. Wouldn’t you try once more to ask the Secretary for permission to go ahead with our satellite? The shock for our country would be tremendous if they were first into space!”25 Medaris’ reply was, “Now look, don’t get tense. You know how complicated it is to build and launch a satellite. Those people will never be able to do it! Through all my various intelligence channels, I have not received the slightest indication of an impending satellite launch. As soon as I hear something, I will act.
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When we learn something about their activities, we will still have plenty of time to move. Go back to your laboratory, and relax!”26
A week later, Sputnik 1 was repeatedly crossing our heavens with its incessant “beep-beep!” At that point, von Braun asked Stuhlinger, “Did the General talk to you since it happened? I think he owes you an apology!” “Yes,” was the answer. “All he said was: ‘Those damn bastards!’”