Apollo- Soyuz, as I lived it a half century ago Pt2

 

3,000 CHAIRS

It was mid-July 1975 and gone were the days when I could set aside paying attention to school, or anything else, and solely focus on a spaceflight. Now I had to “work.” Somehow, work still never ranked up there as high as spaceflight with me. There seemed to be this philosophical line between pushing a broom in an arena and the peaceful advancement of human civilization.

Before leaving for work on launch day of Apollo/Soyuz, I asked my mom to go down to the basement TV, where I had the TV tuned to NBC, and simply push the “record” button and then allow the tape to run out. I would handle the rest when I got home. Of course, I went so far as to have her actually practice pushing the button. Although she seemed a bit doubtful about the task, I assured her by saying that with any luck she would not screw it up. Hey, you can have an ideal kid, or you can have a space-buff, but you cannot have both.

I had spent the day before launch day at the Civic Center putting 3,000 chairs down onto the floor of Wendler Arena for a country and western concert. Getting up early the following morning I had just enough time to watch some of the Soyuz pre-launch coverage and then had to go back to the Civic Center and pick up 3,000 chairs.

The rest of America’s space-buffs saw the difference between a Soviet launch and a NASA launch. The space news commentators were picking out odds and ends, and in many cases guessing at what would happen next. Yet I was left in the arena with 3,000 chairs to manage.

The Soyuz’s booster was, at its foundation, essentially was the same R-7 booster that had sent Sputnik and later Gagarin into orbit. Now it was topped with uprated stages that would loft the Soyuz. Sealed into a nose fairing that was topped with an escape tower, the spacecraft itself could not be seen.

NBC’s John Dancy was reporting live from Moscow that the Soviet public was “very excited” about seeing live television of a space launch, as well as live TV of the Soviet launch control center. It was estimated that some 100 million Soviet citizens watched the launch live on TV. One feature that did not materialize was live video from inside the Soyuz. The Soviets normally had a video downlink from inside the spacecraft, but moments before launch the Soyuz camera failed.

         Aboard Soyuz 19 were two cosmonauts: Commander Alexei Leonov and flight engineer Valery Kubasov. Leonov was already a spaceflight legend having been the first man to ever walk in space. If the Soviets had been able to send the first man to the Moon, that would probably have been Leonov, although some historians might take exception to the notion. Kubasov was a civilian engineer who had become a cosmonaut in 1963 and flew on Soyuz 6 as a flight engineer. Both he and Leonov had been previously assigned to the ill-fated Soyuz 11 mission to the Salyut 1 space station in 1971, but were replaced by their backups, as was Pyotr Kolodin, when Kubasov suffered a lung ailment. It was the Soyuz 11 spacecraft that accidentally depressurized during reentry killing the three crewmen aboard (Gyorgy Dobrovolsky, Vladimir Volkov and Viktor Patsayev).

Soyuz was launched in a slightly smeared TV presentation as a translator gave the English version of the Russian calls.

“Ignition!” the translator stammered, “the engines are powered up. The launch! The booster is off! The flight is proceeding normally. The program maneuver of the booster rocket has been given… 20 minutes into flight.”

Apparently the difference between minutes and seconds was lost in the translation.

“The flight is normal,” the translator continued, “the engine is operating in a stable manner… there’s a slight movement of the booster, oscillation.”

A part of the awkwardness of the translation was the fact that the translator was projecting the words of both launch control and Leonov at the same time. No doubt our launch communications sounded just as awkward to the Soviets. Also, if the Soviet translator said anything wrong while narrating the mission the next stop could be the salt mines in Siberia. Soyuz 19 was inserted into orbit as planned and the next move was up to the United States.

Of course, I missed the entire Soyuz launch because the fate of the free world hung on those 3,000 chairs that now had to be picked up. I rarely complained about work because the pay was fairly good and I always kept in mind what my Advanced Electronics teacher used to tell us when we complained about an assignment: “There are guys in the salt mines who have put in eight hours already.” We did have the local FM Rock radio station, WHNN, on the arena speakers, but they did not break the music for news very often. I skipped my lunch hour in order to leave work early so I could get home and watch the Apollo launch.

Arriving home I found that Mom had accomplished her task exactly as instructed. Just moments before the launch broadcast began I dashed upstairs to the kitchen to make an iced tea and on the way past I congratulated Mom on having done a good job.

“Well, I’m not a complete idiot,” she sneered in reply.

Heading back down to the basement I told her that such a conclusion was still in question.

CBS was my choice for watching the final Apollo launch. The Space Shuttle that NASA was talking about seemed to still be pie-in-the-sky even if they did tell us it was only four years away. As far as I was concerned, considering the political attitude toward spaceflight over the past few years, this ASTP launch might just turn out to be the last American manned space launch, ever. Thus, I was going to watch Cronkite and Schirra and I was going to enjoy every second of the launch. Perhaps the only thing better would have been to be at the Cape myself to see it go.

The reality for me, however, and for millions of other space-buffs across the United States was that my chances of being there in Florida were about as remote as my actually being aboard the Apollo spacecraft itself. There was simply no way. Oddly, about a month earlier, some pals of mine from the Civil Air Patrol had come up with a plan to drive down from Michigan for the launch. Unfortunately, that plan dissolved nearly as quickly as it had been cooked up. For me the launch would be experienced, as always, in front of our TV set.

At KSC the weather was simply outstanding for a Saturn launch. Coverage of the launch picked up at 3:30 Michigan time that afternoon, and compared to the coverage given to the previous Skylab launches, ASTP’s coverage would look like a marathon. The networks had brought in almost anyone that they could find who had flown an Apollo to either give comments or simply sit and look interested. NBC brought in Alan Shepard to co-host their coverage with Jim Hartz and John Chancellor. Frankly, Shepard was never comfortable being around the news media and it showed. I stuck with CBS.

Hyperbole over the ASTP mission had grown to such a point that NASA went as far as to have a full-scale mock-up of the Apollo CSM, the DM and the Soyuz constructed. Then they stuck it in the transfer aisle of the VAB. This allowed the astronauts, cosmonauts, politicians and news media, both US and foreign to pose in front of it in the seven months leading up to the mission. Apparently there was some petty cash left over in the Apollo budget.

Just like the previous Saturn IB that had boosted Skylab 4, cracks were found in the fins of SA-210 which was scheduled to boost ASTP. Those fins were changed-out in the same manner as they had been on the previous vehicle. However, there was one huge exception to this operation; there was no media drama surrounding the operation. In fact, the change-out was hardly mentioned at all. Gone was the scandal craze, because Watergate and Nixon were now both old news. Now political détente was the atmosphere of the day and the point that the producers of network news wanted to be pushed. The operation of changing-out the fins took place in the VAB and almost no one noticed.

Ignition of the eight H-1 engines of AS-210 was on time and the hold-downs released just 0.5 seconds later than planned. As the Saturn IB climbed into a nearly cloudless sky, the NASA cameras were feeding tracking views as well as an internal shots of the astronauts.

CBS’s technical folks presented both views at the same time as a diagonal split-screen for the first few minutes of the boost. Once the launch vehicle was too high to see much detail, they switched to just the inside view of the crew. The view was simply amazing. Space-buffs could see Brand, nearest to the camera, and Stafford, in the background; Slayton was not in the view. We watched, for the first time, as our astronauts threw switches and ran checklists and headed into space. Cronkite commented that he sort of expected the crew to be pinned to their seats. But Schirra, who had commanded the first Apollo atop a Saturn IB, said that the acceleration was so gradual and the training was so good that the astronauts were actually quite comfortable. Additionally, once staging took place the ride on the S-IVB stage was little more than 1g. From my point of view, however, this live shot inside the Apollo CM was fascinating. The Soviets had often used a TV camera inside the Soyuz, although its images were never seen live by the public. In a strange twist of fate, we put a camera in our Apollo because they had a camera in their Soyuz, then their camera system failed.

As of this writing we space-buffs have never again been allowed to watch an ascent live as shown from a camera inside a U.S. manned spacecraft. The Russians, however, now routinely televise their launches live, including a live camera inside the Soyuz. Since American astronauts are currently forced to rent seats aboard the Soyuz in order to get to the International Space Station, the Russians now provide the TV that NASA never again provided.

Once the Apollo was inserted into orbit, the networks remained on and spent a little time discussing the fact that this was the end. It was the last Apollo and the last Saturn ever to fly. A sad and empty feeling came over me, not just as a space-buff, but as an American. I loathed the direction in which we were heading— like sheep being led by a myopic pop-culture that supported the myth that manned spaceflight was made up of all cost and no benefit. Worse yet was the prospect of having no more launches to watch and record, plus just one remaining splashdown. All I had left was hockey; of course the doctor said that I would probably be okay if I did not have a third concussion, so at least my winters would be full. Many years later a TV documentary implied that it was ASTP that doomed Skylab. They stated that now "...there are no more rockets and no more Apollo spacecraft..." That was completely untrue. At the time of ASTP there was another flight-ready Saturn IB, AS-209 (which today is on display at the KSC visitor's center), and more than one Apollo CSM, all of which could have been used to return to Skylab. 

The fact, however was that there was no more funding allocated by congress and the Office of Management and Budget for the use of those vehicles. Engineers reach for the stars- politicians, only reach for your pockets.

Watch for Part 3

    

Apollo- Soyuz, as I lived it a half century ago Pt1

 

ASTP

After nearly a year and a half of not having any Americans in space we space buffs were actually looking forward to this thing called the Apollo-Soyuz Test Project (ASTP). 

Launched on July 15, 1975 ASTP did not have its roots in science, discovery or exploration. ASTP was, in fact, little more than a political exhibition conducted in space. Amid the atmosphere of the Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty of 1972, better known as SALT-1, the Nixon administration cooked up the prospect to have an American Apollo vehicle rendezvous and dock with a Soviet Soyuz spacecraft in Earth orbit. It would use up one of the final remaining Apollo spacecraft, one of the final flight-ready Saturn IB boosters, and all of the remaining Apollo budget. For Nixon, ASTP also would satisfy his desire to best his historical political rivals. Too bad for him that he was compelled to resign from the presidency in disgrace before ASTP was stacked in the VAB. 

From the perspective of a space buff Nixon’s legacy in spaceflight was that AS-210, the ASTP Saturn IB, was launched on a Tuesday and on the following Friday 1,200 contractor workers at KSC were issued their pink slips. Sadly, it was only the beginning of an aerospace industry-wide recession. 

To most enthusiasts of NASA and the U.S. space program, ASTP meant little more than being able to witness an Apollo spacecraft fly again for the first time in more than a year. 

Without question the most exciting aspect of ASTP was the fact that the crew would contain one of the original seven astronauts, none other than Deke Slayton. Anyone who knew anything about NASA knew Deke’s story. He originally had been selected as the fourth of the seven original astronauts to fly, with his mission being one that would mirror John Glenn’s three orbits. He had named his capsule “Delta 7,” but as launch day drew near a single doctor looked at a minor heart fibrillation and decided to make it into a major issue. Slayton was grounded and ended up being the guy who selected new-hire astronauts and formed crews for missions. Then, some nine years after he had been grounded, Slayton began taking a regiment of vitamins to combat a cold and soon it dawned on him that his heart had not fluttered in months. After being examined extensively at the Mayo Clinic he was cleared for flight, and shortly thereafter he was cleared for spaceflight. The only problem was that all the remaining space missions were already assigned crews. Fortunately, along came one additional mission, which was ASTP. Slayton recommended himself for that mission. There was no one in NASA or in the spaceflight community who could have argued with that selection. Slayton’s only remaining problem was that he would have to learn to speak basic Russian.

 All of the crews involved in the flight were required to learn to speak the language of the other nation. During the mission, the Americans would speak Russian to the Soviet crew and the Soviets would speak English to the American crew. 

Although there was very little technical advancement involved in ASTP, the political fluff was enough to draw the continued attention of the news networks. These same networks, who collectively ignored the splashdown of the Skylab 4 crew after their world record stay in space, now went all out to cover ASTP.

 Perhaps the most interesting aspect of ASTP for us space buffs was the fact that for the first time we would get a good look at the Soviet’s mysterious Soyuz spacecraft. For over a decade the details of Soyuz had been shrouded behind Iron Curtain secrecy. 

Now, in order for ASTP to actually happen, the ever-paranoid Soviets had to lift the covers. Additionally, the US demanded that our crews and NASA officials must be allowed to tour the top-secret Baikonur Cosmodrome launch site in Kazakhstan. Also, NASA insisted that US astronauts be allowed to examine the operational hardware such as the Soyuz spacecraft that would fly on the mission and the booster that would place it into orbit.

Although there was very little of ASTP for someone like me to get excited about, it did inspire Ravell to produce a 1:96 scale model kit for the event. The kit was based on their Apollo lunar landing kit of the same scale and it used the same CSM. New was the “International Docking Module” and a detailed 1:96 version of their long shrouded in secrecy Soyuz. I bought one of the kits in hope that it would annoy the Soviets.

 

WATCH FOR PART 2