Fwd: Remembering Shuttle Columbia's Maiden Voyage; Interview With Dr. Story Musgrave

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From: "Gary Johnson" <gjohnson144@comcast.net>
Date: April 14, 2015 at 9:36:15 PM CDT
To: "Gary Johnson" <gjohnson144@comcast.net>
Subject: FW: Remembering Shuttle Columbia's Maiden Voyage; Interview With Dr. Story Musgrave

 

 

AmericaSpace

For a nation that explores

 

April 12th, 2015

Dawn of an Era: Remembering Shuttle Columbia's Maiden Launch

By Ben Evans

 

Thirty-four years ago, today, at dawn, Columbia roared into orbit, heralding the dawn of a new era in U.S. space exploration. Photo Credit: NASA, via Joachim Becker/SpaceFacts.de

Thirty-four years ago, today, on 12 April 1981, the first winged orbital space vehicle carrying human pilots was launched from Pad 39A at the Kennedy Space Center (KSC) in Florida. Aboard Columbia for STS-1—the long-awaited maiden voyage of the shuttle era—were Commander John Young and Pilot Bob Crippen, tasked with spending two days evaluating the performance of the most complex manned spacecraft in history. Since it was formally approved for development, almost a decade earlier, the reusable shuttle had been directed to a mandate of flying routinely, transporting satellites, laboratories, and people into low-Earth orbit, but before it could be declared "operational" it would have to perform four Orbital Flight Test (OFT) missions, of which STS-1 was the first.

It would also mark the first occasion in the history of the U.S. space program that a crew had been aboard for the inaugural voyage of a new spacecraft; the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo spacecraft had all flown unmanned, before their systems were trusted with human pilots. Within the ranks of the astronaut corps, opinions were mixed. Fred Haise saw an unmanned first flight as trickier than a manned one. "It would have been very difficult," he told the NASA oral historian, "to have devised a scheme to have flown unmanned. I guess you could've used a link and really had a pilot on a stick on the ground … but to totally mechanically program it to do that—and inherent within the vehicle—would have been very difficult. With a crew on-board, able to handle the multitude of things that you could work around, inherently made the success potential of a flight much greater."

Others were more sceptical. "I didn't see any need in risking humans and I didn't think humans would be as proficient as automated equipment," recalled Henry Pohl, then-head of engineering and development, in a NASA oral history. "By that time [the late 1970s], we had the know-how and we could build robots or the automated equipment that can detect things long before a human can detect it and I thought the vehicle was going to be so difficult to land that we really ought to land it with automated equipment."

In March 1978, a "pool" of crew members were announced for the first four Orbital Flight Tests (OFTs) of the shuttle. At their initial press conference (from left) are Gordon Fullerton, Vance Brand, Jack Lousma, Fred Haise, Richard Truly, Joe Engle, Robert Crippen, and John Young. Photo Credit: NASA.

When Young and Crippen were named in March 1978 as part of a "pool" of pilots to fly the OFT shuttle missions, it was apparent that they might not survive Columbia's first mission. Three years later, shortly before heading to KSC, Young and fellow astronaut Joe Allen went to lunch in the cafeteria at the Johnson Space Center (JSC) in Houston, Texas. Young had no money, so Allen paid for him. Afterwards, Young insisted on paying him back. Allen laughed and told him to forget it. "No," replied Young. "You don't go fly these things when you got debts." In Young's mind, he would fly into space on arguably the most hazardous piloted mission in U.S. history with all debts settled.

On 29 December 1980, Columbia—attached to her External Tank (ET) and twin Solid Rocket Boosters (SRBs)—rolled out from the Vehicle Assembly Building (VAB) to the pad for final processing operations. In late February, her cluster of three main engines were successfully test-fired for 20 seconds, and liftoff was provisionally scheduled for no earlier than 17 March 1981. However, numerous technical obstacles and a human tragedy conspired to push the STS-1 mission into April. Firstly, technicians needed to repair a section of debonded insulation on the ET, which pushed the launch to 5 April, after which a strike by Boeing machinists enforced a further delay to 10 April. Several technicians were left unconscious by a dangerous accumulation of nitrogen gas, whilst working in the shuttle's aft compartment, leading to the tragic deaths of John Bjomstad and Forrest Cole.

T-0 on 10 April was timed to occur at the opening of a 6.5-hour "window," which opened at 6:50 a.m. EDT and whose parameters were dictated by the requirement for adequate lighting to satisfactorily photograph Columbia's ascent and preserve the option for a daylight landing opportunity at White Sands Missile Range, near Alamagordo, N.M., should a launch abort require Young and Crippen to perform an emergency landing after one orbit.

Shortly before 4 a.m. EDT on 10 April, the two astronauts boarded Columbia for what turned out to be a relatively uneventful countdown, until its final stages. Then, at T-9 minutes, during the final programmed hold in the countdown, a problem cropped up in one of the shuttle's General Purpose Computers (GPCs). It was described by NASA as "a timing skew"; in effect, the backup flight software was unable to synchronize itself with the primary set. Unlike earlier manned spacecraft, the shuttle was totally reliant upon its computers to run the main engines, move the elevons, control its heading, and operate the Orbital Maneuvering System (OMS). The units were so critical that five GPCs were carried: four primaries, which ran the same software and "voted" before issuing commands, and a backup. If one of the primaries disagreed with the others, it was "outvoted" and considered faulty. The backup computer contained a different set of flight software, so that if all four primaries became corrupted, it could take over.

Resplendent in the glow of floodlights, Columbia stands ready on Pad 39A, mounted on her External Tank (ET) and twin Solid Rocket Boosters (SRBs). Photo Credit: NASA, via Joachim Becker/SpaceFacts.de

Taking advantage of the lengthy window, T-0 was rescheduled for 10:20 a.m. EDT, as engineers wrestled with the software, but when a solution proved elusive it was prudently decided to stand down for 48 hours. Later that evening, the problem was isolated and the countdown resumed on the 11th. "The software," recalled astronaut Gordon Fullerton in a NASA oral history, "became the biggest stumbling block. The software in these computers not only control where you fly and the flight path, but almost every other subsystem! Getting the software wrung out and simulators writing the checklists … we didn't really have it nailed down by STS-1. There were a lot of unknowns, [but] you just finally have to set a launch date and say 'We're going to go'. You cannot be 100 percent sure of everything."

After spending the 11th maintaining their proficiency, the astronauts headed into the suiting-up room in the small hours of the 12th, to be greeted by the result of the suit techs' humor. "John Young made a big deal about the size of the American flag on his suit," recalled technician Jean Alexander in a NASA oral history. "It came in with kind of a small version and they got several sizes before he was satisfied and it was kind of a joke, so on launch morning there was a motel that we stayed at Cocoa Beach and they had this huge flag on a pole [outside] a real-estate office next door. One of the suit techs that was down there for launch talked the real-estate people into letting him take that flag down and he took it to the suit room for suit-up morning and had it actually cover one whole wall! When John walked in, he said 'John, is that big enough?'" The episode lightened the mood sufficiently for what was about to come.

Unlike their previous attempt, the countdown on 12 April 1981—which also happened to be the 20th anniversary of Yuri Gagarin's pioneering orbital flight—proved charmed, which came as a pleasant surprise to Crippen. As the clock paused at T-9 minutes, Launch Director George Page told the men that he would extend the "hold" slightly, to ensure that the team were sufficiently calm and focused for the events ahead. "It was for a few minutes," Crippen noted, "to get relaxed." At T-5 minutes, Crippen started the shuttle's Auxiliary Power Units (APUs) and verified their nominal performance.

Commander John Young leads Pilot Bob Crippen out of the Operations & Checkout (O&C) Building for the first shuttle mission. Both men are clad in U.S. Air Force high-altitude pressure suits, which were worn by the first four shuttle crews. Photo Credit: NASA, via Joachim Becker/SpaceFacts.de

The final minute was laced with the excitement and technobabble of the first flight of an entirely new U.S. piloted orbital spacecraft, which has not been seen since, and which will not be seen again until either Boeing or SpaceX lofts its first crewed CST-100 or Dragon V-2, sometime in 2017. "The firing system for the sound suppression water system will be armed just a couple of seconds from now," came the call from the launch commentator. "T-45 seconds and counting … the Development Flight Instrumentation recorders are on … T-35 seconds, we're just a few seconds away from switching to the redundant set sequencer … T-27 seconds, we've gone for redundant set sequencer start … T-20 seconds and counting … T-15 … 14 … 13 … 12 … T-10, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four … we've gone for Main Engine Start … " as a shower of sparks from the hydrogen burn igniters gave way to a sudden, low-pitched rumble and a sheet of translucent orange flame, " … we have Main Engine Start … "

Six seconds before 7 a.m. EDT on 12 April 1981, anything slumbering on the Space Coast was slumbering no more, as the rumble of Columbia's engines intensified into a mighty crescendo. Almost as quickly as it had appeared, the orange sheet of flame was gone, to be replaced by a trio of dancing Mach diamonds, as supersonic exhaust gases surged from the engine bells. A vast cloud of smoke quickly obscured the entire vehicle. The commentator's next few words were drowned out by the ear-splitting staccato crackle and brilliant fireshow of the SRBs, which ignited precisely at T-zero, and precisely on the hour. From the press site, Columbia seemed to punch its way upwards from the smoke, accompanied by the shouts, whoops, and cheers of 3,500 spectators and hundreds of thousands more who were watching on television. "We have liftoff of America's first Space Shuttle … and the shuttle has cleared the tower … "

From their seats, Young and Crippen later recalled that Columbia rocked, perceptibly, backwards and forward, accompanied by a sharp increase of noise inside the cabin. Crippen would remark that, although the roar of the main engines definitely got their attention, it was the punch-in-the-back ignition of the SRBs which convinced and assured them that they were really going somewhere. For the first few seconds, as they cleared the tower and soared into the clear Florida sky atop two dazzling columns of flame, the cockpit instruments were blurred by the vibrations, though not unreadable. By the time that the shuttle rolled over onto her back, 10 seconds into the flight, and established herself on the correct heading for a 40.3-degree-inclination orbit, the two men reported that the vibrations had lessened to a point that allowed them to read their instruments without problems.

"Roll Program!" radioed Young as Columbia performed an axial rotation to orient itself onto the proper flight azimuth, seemingly "rolling" onto its back.

"Roger, Roll," replied Capcom Dan Brandenstein.

The world's first reusable, piloted orbital spacecraft begins its maiden voyage on 12 April 1981. Unlike other spacecraft, it flew for the first time with a human crew aboard. Photo Credit: NASA, via Joachim Becker/SpaceFacts.de

At the post-flight debriefings, Young told engineers that Columbia's ascent was considerably more rapid than he had experienced during his two Saturn V launches to the Moon. Analysis also showed that STS-1 had caused significant damage to Pad 39A, which could have been catastrophic: the shockwaves produced by the main engines and the SRBs had buckled a strut linking Columbia with the ET. Had the strut failed, it was subsequently determined, the result could have been a Loss of Crew and Vehicle (LOCV) event and steps were taken to strengthen the struts in readiness for future missions.

Climbing through the low atmosphere, the wind noise outside gradually intensified into something which could only be likened to a screaming. A minute into the flight, as Columbia approached an altitude of 9.3 miles (15 km), she passed through a period of maximum aerodynamic turbulence, which required the GPCs to throttle the engines back to just under two-thirds of their rated thrust. The passage through this period, nicknamed "Max Q," was accompanied by an increase in the noise and vibration of the engines, although their performance remained within structural expectations. Shortly thereafter, the three engines were throttled back up to full power.

"Columbia, you're Go at throttle up," radioed Brandenstein.

"Roger, Go at throttle up," acknowledged Young.

The sound from the boosters, meanwhile, remained sporadic and decreased to virtually nothing as the time approached, 132 seconds into the ascent, for their separation. Shortly before the SRBs burned out, Brandenstein, told the crew that they were now "negative seats," meaning that Columbia was too high to use the ejection seats. Fortunately, the vehicle was performing beautifully. In his 2006 autobiography, Riding Rockets, Mike Mullane recalled listening with relief as each abort-boundary call was passed up by Brandenstein; each call signalled "the sweet song of nominal flight."

The STS-1 patch, highlighting the objectives of the mission, the name of the first orbiter and the surnames of the first crew. Image Credit: NASA, via Joachim Becker/SpaceFacts.de

When the separation motors fired and the SRBs fell away, Young and Crippen reported a bright, orange-yellow flash, which appeared to stream up in front of the shuttle's nose and back above the front windows. Separation of the boosters was accompanied by a harsh, grating sound, although both performed nominally, parachuting down into the Atlantic Ocean for recovery and reuse. With them gone, the astronauts now found it much easier to flip switches in the cockpit. At this point, the so-called "T-Fail-Pitchover" maneuver was executed, placing the horizon in their direct field of view for the first time, and Young and Crippen saw penny-sized to fist-sized particles flooding past the windows.

"What a view! What a view!" radioed Crippen, jubilantly.

"Glad you're enjoying it," replied Brandenstein.

Young and Crippen flew on for six more minutes after SRB separation, reaching Mach 19, at which point the engines were throttled back to maintain around three times the force of terrestrial gravity in order not to over-stress the vehicle. Throughout the entire ascent, the commander's heart rate rose no higher than 90 beats per minute, whereas that of rookie Crippen peaked at nearly 130. The first flight of a fleet of shuttles which would revolutionize U.S. exploration of the heavens had begun, and a 30-year chapter in the history books had begun. After STS-1, Young would quip that he was so old that his heart would not beat any faster. However, Flight Director Neil Hutchinson had another explanation: the calm, cool Young must have been asleep the whole time!

 

 

April 13th, 2015 

From Shuttle to Hubble: An Interview With Dr. Story Musgrave

By Emily Carney

 

The STS-61 crew restored full sight to the ailing Hubble Space Telescope in December 1993. Standing at top, from left: Richard Covey, Jeffrey Hoffman, and Thomas Akers. Seated at bottom, from left: Kenneth Bowersox, Kathryn Thornton, Dr. Story Musgrave, and Claude Nicollier (ESA). Photo Credit: NASA

In space shuttle history, there is one astronaut who bears the distinction of having flown a mission on each orbiter. He began his spaceflight career flying on Challenger's inaugural mission, STS-6, in 1983. In addition, the same astronaut's career included—but was not limited to—thousands of hours flying T-38s, pioneering extravehicular activities during the program's earliest days, and ultimately performing iconic spacewalks that would restore a defective, ailing space telescope into tip-top shape. Following that mission, STS-61, Dr. Story Musgrave would enjoy time in the media's spotlight, but he wasn't yet finished. On his last shuttle mission, STS-80, he stood up during Columbia's reentry to film the orbiter's fiery ride back home. At the time, he was 61 years old. In his biography, Story: The Way of Water, written by Anne E. Lenehan, fellow astronaut Tom Jones recalled, "He certainly, he went out the way he wanted to."

Surgeon, pilot, mechanic, educator, student, and former astronaut, Musgrave enjoyed perhaps the most diverse career of any shuttle flier. On the eve of the 25th anniversary of the Hubble Space Telescope's (HST) deployment, AmericaSpace spoke with Musgrave about its significance in space history, and the mission to save it in 1993. In addition, he discussed other career and mission milestones, and his feelings about NASA's current path.

AmericaSpace: On April 24th, the 25th anniversary of the Hubble Space Telescope's deployment will be celebrated. Why do you think it's important to keep this anniversary in mind, given HST's significance to the scientific community?

Astronaut Story Musgrave is positioned to replace components at the end of Endeavour's Remote Manipulator Arm on its first servicing mission in late 1993. Photo Credit: NASA

Dr. Story Musgrave: I suppose for the same reason any anniversary is important. Do you celebrate your birthday, ma'am? (Author responds: "Yes.") Okay, there's your answer.

AmericaSpace: Hubble is not only notable for its many years of service, but also underwent many modifications during servicing missions, most notably during STS-61—an unprecedented five separate spacewalks were made to correct issues. What do you think Hubble's legacy is when it comes to being "fix-it men"—or women—in space? You underwent arduous training for months—even years—prior to flying your Hubble mission.

Musgrave: Hubble was the first major thing designed, from the start, to be serviceable in space. I started with Hubble in 1975. People don't know that; they've forgotten that. I designed it; I didn't just go and fix it. I had designed it for 18 years by the point I went to go fix it. There were some other satellites that had minor design issues, such as Solar Max. But [Hubble] was the first major satellite designed to be repaired by spacewalking. … I would say we started, on Hubble, in the [neutral buoyancy] tanks roughly around 1980. But these were not rehearsals, ma'am. They were not rehearsals. It's research and development. There is a difference. This was not practice; this was to carve out the procedures I was coming up with.

You said the training was arduous. It was not arduous. That's not a word that I use.

AmericaSpace: What word would you use to describe the process?

Musgrave: Just … slow. In due course. I wouldn't call it arduous. That kind of has a negative connotation. It kind of makes it like it's difficult, and it wasn't difficult.

AmericaSpace: Looking back at Hubble after your mission, what do you think HST's greatest legacy will be?

Musgrave: Hubble gave us images. Images make sense to people emotionally. There are a lot of scientific things, too; it gave us a visible view of the Universe. It was and is one of the more major observatories up there. It had the best resolution, and biggest light-detecting capabilities. The magic of Hubble is not power. It's a very tiny telescope, and some of the technology is decades old … But it's in space, with 100 percent clear viewing, and has the ability to point at an object for days, or months. That's why it's so darn good … It's in pure viewing, and it can point at an object about as long as you wish.

People perceived Hubble as "their machine" from the very start. That's why the mistakes made early on were really disastrous, and really hurt.

AmericaSpace: What were your feelings when Hubble ran into major issues early on post-deployment?

Musgrave: There were a whole bunch of issues, of course. It took a month or two for them to 'fess up to the words "spherical abberation," and the fact they'd put the wrong dang mirror in the telescope.

Most of the other failures should never have happened, either. The culture of the program was in failure, the teamwork was in failure, and the technology was in failure. If you look at the classics … if you look at many of our great satellites, such as the Voyagers, they've been up there for over 35 years now. They've already left the Solar System, and they've had no major failures. If you buy a new car, and you come out of the showroom with the new car and it breaks down before you get home, that is not because it wore out. That's because it's a lemon. That is because either the design was bad … or the quality was bad. Or the design was okay, and you didn't build it to specifications. That's what was going on with Hubble. It had very early failures. That's a critical point … your car didn't wear out, it was a lemon. Hubble was a lemon. But it got fixed.

Story Musgrave (left) and Don Peterson perform the Shuttle program's first EVA. The large tilt-table, used earlier in the mission to deploy the first Tracking and Data Relay Satellite, is visible in the background. Photo Credit: NASA

When we turned it loose [on STS-61], it was fixed 100 percent. The functionality was at 100 percent, or even slightly better, because we put things in that corrected the whole system, not just the mirror. We corrected all the failures. But of course, because the mirror had the wrong curvature in it, every instrument from that point on required corrections. COSTAR, that box we put in, it corrected for the pairs of mirrors, and several other instruments. The Wide Field Planetary Camera 2 … it had internal corrections. Because we couldn't change out the big mirrors, we had to have corrections—from that point on—on every instrument that we put in.

AmericaSpace: You were among the first two shuttle spacewalkers during STS-6, and ended up in part performing some of the most iconic shuttle EVAs of all time during STS-61. On this 50th anniversary of spacewalking, what can you say shuttle and previous programs, such as Skylab, taught you about working outside spacecraft?

Musgrave: I became the point of contact for all design of all spacewalking equipment in 1972. Also in 1972, I started working on the shuttle, and every aspect of shuttle spacewalking. That's another thing, you know, that gets lost in the work you do. I designed the space shuttle suits and life support systems—when I say "I," it means I was the lead astronaut to do that. Of course, I was working with a team. I worked as a designer and project manager for 11 years prior to STS-6. That work gets lost, or they never knew it. I worked on every aspect of spacewalking, including contingency procedures.

I became a point of contact with Skylab spacewalking, too. I was principal in developing all of the Skylab procedures. At the time, the procedures were only for film retrieval and replacement. Remember, it was all film in those days, we didn't have digital. All the walks were to go out and change film canisters … retrieve data, and refill the canisters. Well, of course as soon as we launched Skylab … we lost a micro-meteoroid shield, one entire solar panel, and a second solar panel was hung up by a strap, so it couldn't deploy. Inside the lab was 126 degrees Fahrenheit, and we didn't have half the electricity we were supposed to have. Skylab was in desperate shape.

So we went to the hardware store, and we filled the pool with stuff we bought from the hardware store. That was fast, and it was what we needed to do. Then of course, from the launch on, we had to do contingency walks [in the neutral buoyancy tank] to save the lab. I, too, played a part in developing those walks.

Dr. Story Musgrave, 1980 NASA portrait. Photo Credit: NASA

AmericaSpace: On STS-61, why did you assign yourself as EV2 (rather than EV1) on STS-61, despite being the payload commander and chief spacewalker?

Musgrave: I was doing everything I could do to disempower myself. People objected to my changing the designation. I was trying to disempower myself, because I was a threat. I had designed the thing, and worked on it since 1975. I had become an authority, and authorities are threats. I wanted the best answers, just like in an operating room. In the operating room, the surgical nurse knows more about what's going on than the surgeon. You've got to empower the people around you to speak up, and to get the best solution.

I did not want to stand as an "authority figure." I still did [to some extent], because I'd been at it for 18 years, but getting myself to be EV2 helped in that regard. That was my thinking.

AmericaSpace: The successor to Hubble—the James Webb Space Telescope—is currently being developed and aimed for a 2018 launch. Why is it important for NASA and international space agencies to "keep on keeping on" looking into the Universe?

Musgrave: It's very good science, and it means a lot to people. … People have always looked to the heavens, for the meaning and hope of the lives they have here. They've always looked at [the skies] to shed some answers as to what's down here. They're very powerful machines, Hubble and Webb. They bridge the gaps between cosmology, geology, astronomy, and philosophy.

AmericaSpace: What are your thoughts about NASA's current path, which includes Orion/SLS, Mars, and proposed Asteroid Redirect Missions? Do you think the rise of commercial space entities within the last decade, such as SpaceX, may be a permanent game-changer?

Musgrave: Who is focusing on Mars? Are they? …

Tell me how many dollars are allocated for Mars. They have to talk about Mars as if they have some future, or else, what are they going to talk about? That's the question in the next three budgets, and the current one: How many dollars are allocated toward Mars? It's called: Zero or none. Do we have a Mars program, with zero dollars allocated to the program? How many dollars are allocated to going back to the Moon? Zero. How many dollars are allocated to doing something with an asteroid? Zero.

That's the bottom line. When Congress says you have to spend money on something, you have to spend it there. You don't steal it from one program, and give it to another. And so … Are we going to Mars? First of all, you ask when, with what hardware, and all the rest of these things. You ask, how much money do we have in the current budget? Well, if we have zero for the next few years, we're not going there. You shouldn't pretend you are.

Orion is no more "deep space" than Apollo was. It has a 21-day lifespan … Orion is great Moon vehicle, just like Apollo was. Now, if you hibernate, you might get a few more months out of it. It's an upgraded Apollo, that's what it is. SLS is not even as good as the Saturn V; only the upgraded version might be equal to the Saturn V. I'm not saying we shouldn't do it. I'm just saying NASA doesn't have the vision—NASA doesn't think they should have a long-term vision of spaceflight. The administration and Congress aren't good at vision, and never were. NASA needs to get back into vision, get the public behind them, and make it happen. That's the way I see the "vision thing."

Also, I'm all for the entrepreneurial spirit, but do we need five different ways to get to Earth orbit? Do we really need five ways? By the way, they [referring to commercial spacecraft] only go to low-Earth orbit.

AmericaSpace: Finally, what were your feelings during the STS-51F Abort to Orbit (ATO) in 1985? This was the only ATO in shuttle history.

Musgrave: We were the only flight to lose a main engine after launch. We had a launch abort, too, 17 days earlier on the pad. [The infamous call to "inhibit limits"] told us there was something else going on we didn't know about. Jenny Howard was working the [space shuttle main engine] sensor problem [in the Mission Control Center in Houston]. You've played that to yourself on YouTube, right? [Laughs] It's a nice recording; it's kind of fun.

That was Jenny Howard, and I'll never forget … Jenny wanted the computers to be able to shut down a bad engine instead of riding it to disaster. That's what she did there. Then, the right engine got into sensor problems, too. [It appeared] she was getting to lose another engine, now … That's why she screamed, "We've got to get to inhibit." She had a bad day, she had three sensors fail out of six.

It doesn't matter to me how many years it has been … 30 years ago? [Laughs] I haven't forgotten her. When I'm flying, I know when engines are having their day, I know Jenny Howard's down there working it.

*****

Many thanks to Ben Evans for assistance with questions for this interview. Also, of course, many thanks to Dr. Story Musgrave for his participation.

 

 

April 14th, 2015

'To Come to California': Remembering Shuttle Columbia's Maiden Voyage

By Ben Evans

 

Columbia approaches touchdown at Edwards Air Force Base, Calif., 34 years ago today. Photo Credit: NASA

More than three decades have passed since the maiden voyage of the space shuttle. On 12 April 1981, orbiter Columbia rocketed away from Pad 39A at the Kennedy Space Center (KSC), kicking off a new era which would see more humans delivered into the heavens than at any other point in history. As described in a recent AmericaSpace commemorative article, the two-day mission of STS-1—crewed by Commander John Young and Pilot Bob Crippen—was one of the most hazardous spaceflights of all time, marking the first occasion on which a brand-new spacecraft had undertaken its very first orbital foray with humans aboard. There existed a very real risk that Young and Crippen might lose their lives, not only during launch and ascent, but also during Columbia's hypersonic re-entry and desert landing at Edwards Air Force Base, Calif. That landing took place on 14 April 1981, exactly 34 years ago today, and was surrounded by almost as much drama as the launch itself.

Plunging into the "sensible" atmosphere at Mach 25, subjecting a patchwork of Thermal Protection System (TPS) tiles to extreme re-entry temperatures, and accomplishing an unpowered, "deadstick" touchdown at Edwards was a core requirement for the shuttle. Although the last few minutes, from passing subsonic velocity in the low atmosphere to the runway, had been exhaustively rehearsed during Enterprise Approach and Landing Tests (ALTs), the 45 minutes from the "de-orbit" burn of Columbia's Orbital Maneuvering System (OMS) engines, through the searing furnace of re-entry and the complex series of aerodynamic turns needed to "bleed off" the craft's speed and align her for touchdown, were largely unknown. To play things safe, NASA opted to use the wide expanse of dry lakebed at Edwards for the first four test flights.

This offered Young and Crippen a somewhat greater margin for error, although it was anticipated that when the shuttle became fully operational and its aerodynamic performance was better understood, precision landings on a narrower concrete runway at KSC would become the norm. Four hours before landing, at around 9 a.m. EDT on 14 April 1981, the two astronauts closed and latched Columbia's payload bay doors for the final time.

STS-1 marked the first flight of the shuttle era and the first landing of a winged piloted orbital spacecraft in history. Photo Credit: NASA

Twenty minutes before the de-orbit burn, they oriented their craft tail-first and switched on two of the three Auxiliary Power Units (APUs). These were responsible for controlling the shuttle's flight surfaces and hydraulics throughout re-entry. Fifty-three hours and 28 minutes after launch, passing over the Indian Ocean, the OMS engines ignited in the vacuum, slowing Columbia sufficiently to begin her perilous, high-speed glide to a landing strip on the opposite side of the planet. The 2.5-minute burn was reported with typical coolness by Young: "Burn went nominal."

"Nice and easy does it, John," replied Capcom Joe Allen from the Mission Control Center (MCC) at the Johnson Space Center (JSC) in Houston, Texas. "We are all riding with you."

Minutes later, Columbia was turned around and her nose pitched "upward" at a 39-degree angle. Young and Crippen removed the safety pins from their ejection seats and the overhead escape hatches, then switched on the third APU. As the spacecraft entered the denser portion of the atmosphere, the tracking station on the island of Guam in the Central Pacific noted bursts of Columbia's pulsing thrusters. Traveling at close to 16,000 mph (25,750 km/h), they hurtled onward and onward, as the color of ionized atmospheric gases morphed from a pale pink into a deeper pinkish-red, then reddish-orange, like a blast furnace.

As a tense world waited, the NASA Public Affairs Officer (PAO) reeled off a steady stream of updates. "We will be out of communication with Columbia for approximately 21 minutes," he noted, making reference to the lengthier-than-normal period of radio blackout, caused by the accumulation of a plasma "sheath" around the orbiter. "No tracking stations before the West Coast … and there is a period of about 16 minutes of aerodynamic re-entry heating that communications are impossible … " During this time, the Kuiper Airborne Observatory (KAO), flying almost directly beneath Columbia's path, acquired an infrared image, revealing Columbia's meteoric descent. The aircraft had earlier taken off from Hickam Air Force Base in Hawaii and established itself at an altitude of 44,880 feet (13,700 meters), about an hour before the spacecraft attained "Entry Interface."

Columbia is approached by servicing vehicles after touchdown on the Edwards dry lakebed. Photo Credit: NASA

Descending lower now, the astronauts were, at length, able to receive Ultra-High Frequency (UHF) radio calls, crackling between Mission Control and one of the T-38 Talon chase aircraft which would accompany the shuttle down to the runway. "Hello, Houston," Young called, "Columbia's here! We're doing Mach 10.3 at 188 [thousand feet]." For the majority of this period, except for the so-called "roll reversals"—a series of S-shaped curves to reduce speed—the computers were primarily responsible for flying the vehicle. Shortly after the orbiter crossed the California coastline, near Big Sur, Young took manual control. Long-range tracking cameras on Anderson Peak captured the first ground-based images of Columbia, flying at an altitude of more than 22 miles (35 km).

"What a way to come to California!" exulted Crippen.

Still traveling at well over four times the speed of sound, the shuttle passed over Bakersfield, Lake Isabella, and Mojave Airport, enabling the astronauts to verify by glancing through their windows that the ground track was "right on the money." Young then executed a sweeping, 225-degree turn to align his ship with the dry lakebed Runway 23 at Edwards. Dropping to below 7.5 miles (12 km), he took Columbia's stick and would later remark that control was crisp and precise.

Watching the arrival of America's first space shuttle from orbit were tens of thousands of people, including Larry Eichel of the Philadelphia Inquirer. His testimony encapsulated the anxiety of everybody awaiting this historic event. "The shuttle appeared far above the north-east horizon," he explained, "a white dot against a cloudless blue sky. That dot was dropping so fast that to an eye accustomed to watching the more gradual descent of commercial jets, it seemed inevitable that the shuttle would crash to the desert floor."

As Columbia drew closer, her speed brake was gradually retracted and was fully closed by the time the vehicle was 2,000 feet (600 meters) above the runway. Falling precipitously, seven times steeper than a commercial airliner, and almost twice the speed, the reaction of Eichel that a crash was about to occur can, perhaps, be forgiven. It was at this point, however, that Young pulled back on the stick, lifted the nose, and transformed his ship, in a split second, from a falling brick into a graceful flying machine.

Servicing vehicles hook up cooling utilities to Columbia's aft compartment in the aftermath of the maiden landing of the shuttle. Photo Credit: NASA

Weather conditions in the California desert were near-perfect and surface winds were calm. At 10:20:35 a.m. PDT (or 1:20:35 p.m. EDT), Bob Crippen deployed the landing gear and all six wheels were down and locked into position within the 10-second time limit. Columbia touched down perfectly, 22 seconds later, at a speed of 212 mph (342 km/h), and rolled for almost 9,850 feet (3,000 meters), before coming to a smooth halt. The speed brake was opened and full-down elevons were applied, giving the astronauts an impression of considerable deceleration. "As it touched down," recalled Eichel, "at a speed 80-90 miles an hour faster than a commercial airliner does, the rear wheels nestled into the hard-packed sand, kicking a rooster-tail high into the air." The countdown to landing was echoed by both the public affairs spokesmen at Edwards and by the crew of one of the T-38s, who were first to welcome Young and Crippen back home with a resounding "Beautiful! Beautiful!"

Rookie astronaut John Creighton was aboard a U.S. Army helicopter at Edwards that day, and he later described the remarkable efforts of some spectators to get a close-up view of Columbia's first return from orbit. "All kinds of people had camped out there for several days," he told the NASA Oral History Project, years later. "There was a fence and there'd been a patrol to keep people back there. As soon as the shuttle rolled to a stop, these people charged forward, [this] fence went down and they got motorcycles and cars that went out racing. This was about five miles from where the shuttle actually landed and the only way you could see was with binoculars, but, boy, they wanted to get an up-front view! The security folks didn't know what to do, so they told the helicopters to try to get this crowd under control, so these helicopters would swoop down in front of the on-charging group of cars. The helicopter pilots loved it. They were having a great time trying to head off all of these people!"

Post-landing analysis revealed that Columbia's right-hand inboard brakes suffered higher-than-anticipated pressure, which caused a slight tug to the right, just before the wheels stopped. Young compensated for this by balancing the total braking to either side of the shuttle, maintaining a near-perfect course straight down the runway centerline, stopping at the intersection of Runways 23 and 15. One notable surprise was the sheer amount of lakebed debris—pebbles and grains of sand—kicked up by the wheels.

"Do I have to take it to the hangar, Joe?" quipped Young.

"We're gonna dust it off first," retorted Joe Allen with a chuckle.

An excited John Young stands with George Abbey, then-head of the Flight Crew Operations Directorate (FCOD), and watches Bob Crippen descend the steps from Columbia. Photo Credit: NASA

Immediately after wheelstop, the astronauts unstrapped and began safing the OMS and Reaction Control System (RCS) switches before the arrival of the ground crew. When the latter arrived, they first hooked up sensitive "sniffer" devices to verify the absence of toxic or explosive gases and attached coolant and purging lines to Columbia's aft compartment to air-condition her systems and payload bay and dissipate residual fumes.

Whilst this procedure was underway, the ground teams worked in Self-Contained Atmospheric Protection Ensemble (SCAPE) suits, then moved an airport-type stairway over to the hatch. Years later, Joe Allen would find it amusing to watch Young and Crippen, who looked like ordinary people as they came down the steps … surrounded by the ground team, whose cumbersome SCAPE suits made them look like the astronauts!

John Young, who had remained totally cool throughout re-entry, now let his excitement get the better of him. As soon as he got outside, about an hour after touchdown, he bounded down the steps, checked out the tires and landing gear, and jabbed the air triumphantly with both fists. He even kicked the tires, which scared the life out of the engineers, because they contained 375 psi of pressure. Combined with the hot brakes, there existed a real possibility that a tire might explode. Young, of course, could be forgiven. He was over-excited after completing the most audacious flying challenge of his career.

And it showed.

"I've often claimed that John calmed down" by the time he got outside, Bob Crippen said later, but noted with a twinkle in his eye: "You should've seen him when he was inside the cockpit!"

 

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