The following is an excerpt from my book,
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Just a year and a half after the
ASTP, the orbiter test bed Enterprise was flying at Edwards AFB on the back of
the 747 carrier aircraft. At first, the media did not see this as much of a
story, but by August 12, 1977, when the first free flight of the Approach and
Landing Tests (ALT) took place, at least for the moment the media came back,
and so did many folks in America. Coverage began early in the morning and ABC
News nearly covered the event from wheels up to wheels stop. After all, the
network brass at that moment saw the Shuttle as new and somewhat exciting. TV
rating points may be gained. For me, ALT blended both of my passions: aviation
and space. The first ALT free flight took place just 14 days before I left home
to attend the Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in Daytona Beach, Florida to
begin my aviation career. That day would introduce the world to the Space
Shuttle and an orbiter by the name of ENTERPRISE.
To me as well as a lot of other
space-buffs, somehow the Space Shuttle was pie-in-the-sky compared to what Apollo
had been. After all, spaceflight had to be done with giant tall rockets and
capsules, didn’t it? A big glider that was boosted piggy-back into orbit and
then simply sailed back to Earth to land on a runway seemed to be more like
science fiction. All of that changed for me on the morning of the first ALT
flight.
Leading the news on the morning of
August 12, 1977, was not the news of the Enterprise and the ALT. Although that
was the largest story of the day, the lead story was the fact that the court
had ordered New York City’s “Son of Sam” serial killer David Berkowitz to
undergo psychological evaluation; gee, there’s a shocker. Oddly, in that same
day’s local news, my cousin Paul was also featured because he had served in the
Army with Berkowitz. Paul even displayed a baseball glove that the killer had
loaned to him, but never reclaimed. The news then went back to national
subjects and the Enterprise.
All three networks were giving
saturation coverage to the ALT in their morning news programs and at least two
had gotten their star spaceflight anchor crews out to the desert at Edwards Air
Force Base to announce the event. CBS had stationed their long time space
reporter Morton Dean to sit at a desk in the desert and broadcast the flight,
aided by technical advisor Leo Crupp from Rockwell International, which had
constructed the Enterprise. Similarly, ABC’s Frank Reynolds and Jules Bergman
also were in position. NBC, however, came up with a somewhat different angle on
coverage. Of course, they had Roy Neal, a veteran TV space reporter who had
been covering flights since the first Mercury missions, standing next to what
looked like a night-stand that had been “borrowed” from his hotel room. That
piece of furniture was now being used to hold up a model of the Shuttle and 747
carrier aircraft.
But back in the NBC New York studios they had anchored the
coverage with Jack Perkins, aided by a big-screen projection TV and seven “high
school science students.” The premise being that if the ALT’s moment in history
was to have any meaning at all, it would have the most meaning for the “youth
of America.” A valid point considering that most adults in the country at that
time were indifferent toward the Space Shuttle program, including those who were
running NBC. In the end, after the Enterprise had landed, and Jack Perkins
asked what they thought of the flight, those “high school science students”
mercifully contributed less than a minute of adolescent stammering and
interjections that decades later still remain somewhat painful to listen to.
The mechanics of the ALT were fairly
straightforward. Using a Boeing 747 aircraft that NASA had purchased from
American Airlines and heavily modified to carry Shuttle orbiters on its back,
the Enterprise would be taken aloft and then released to glide down and land on
the dry lake runway at Edwards. Of course nothing in NASA can ever be that
simple. In the case of the ALT a great deal of data was to be obtained and thus
a great deal of planning, organization and practice had been involved. There
had to be check points and calls in the mission profile to ensure that
absolutely everyone was on the exact same point, on the exact page, at the
exact same moment. Even this straight forward drop-test would be handled by Mission
Control in Houston and thus was treated more like a lunar landing than an
unpowered flight test from the Right Stuff days at Edwards.
Aside from the actual flight testing
and data crunching, there was also an element of “show” added to the first ALT.
NASA had been under fire from the usual gang of spaceflight haters both in the
government and in the media. Critics were constantly after NASA to prove that
the Shuttle program was “worth it.” So, it became important to put the best
public face on the ALT. Stylized tents for VIPs were erected where a good view
of the runway could be had. Invitations to all sorts of guests who would be
spaceflight friendly were sent out and huge numbers of cars and campers were
allowed onto the base to witness the event.
Enterprise crew members, astronauts
Fred Haise, commander; and Gordon Fullerton, pilot; were not allowed to eat
breakfast at home and then just come to work at the flight line. Instead they
were corralled into a special room adorned with historic aerospace photos and a
pot of flowers and made to eat the “astronaut’s breakfast” in front of the cameras. Haise, the
spaceflight veteran, just casually jumped through that traditional hoop;
Fullerton appeared obviously uncomfortable. Of course the cameras then followed
the crew all the way up the mate/de-mate structure’s ladder to the Enterprise
itself. Again, Haise waved and smiled; Fullerton appeared obviously
uncomfortable.
THE ALT:
AN EVOLUTION TO THE ERA OF LIMITS
NASA had the high hopes that this
fairly simple mission would place a successful face on the Space Shuttle and
that it would at least mute the critics for a short time. As the morning news
shows signed off they announced their times for the start of their ALT
coverage. Although the 747 Shuttle Carrier Aircraft (SCA) would release brakes
for takeoff at 11:00 in the morning Eastern Time, the actual separation of the
orbiter was planned for 45 to 50 minutes later. Thus, CBS and NBC would start
their coverage at 11:30. ABC, however, would be starting their coverage with
the SCA’s takeoff at 11:00. So I sat in my basement bedroom and glued myself to
the local ABC station; WJRT channel 12 in Flint, Michigan. Cable TV was still
five years into the future for my little farm town community and I was forced to
use an antenna to snag the signals out of the air. How primitive!
One of the little lesser-known facts
about the departure of the SCA and Enterprise is that when Haise and Fullerton
were sitting in the cockpit, they could not see any hint of the huge 747 that
was carrying them.
“It was kind of like riding a magic
carpet ride,” Haise would later recall “You’re just moving along the ground and
then you take off.”
Following the takeoff of the SCA and
Enterprise, ABC news had little to do other than “fill” because the picture was
simply the SCA, the orbiter and a chase planes with blue sky and clouds as a
backdrop. Thus there were clips of the “new” Shuttle EVA space suit, the
“rescue ball” for emergency crew transfer, and the launch manifest. That manifest,
it was said, would one day achieve 56 Shuttle flights per year. And finally
there was the new type of astronauts called “Mission Specialists.” The jobs
speculated for the Shuttle included building a solar power station in orbit
that could beam back energy and one day provide as much as 25% of America’s
electrical energy. Then there was the building of a space station to provide a
permanent presence in space. Of course, only half of those predictions ever
came true. ABC even filled several
minutes with clips from “Buck Rogers,” “Star Trek” and the hit movie of the
summer of 1977: “Star Wars.”
There also were the interviews with
the politicians who were on hand to watch the event. Foremost among them was
California Governor Jerry Brown. He had joined the 1976 presidential race on
the motto that the United States was entering an “era of limits.” That tag line
became his campaign motto as he lost in the primaries to Jimmy Carter, who then
took on the same motto to a somewhat lesser degree. When Brown failed to be
nominated, he held on to his “era of limits” ideal and took it with him back to
California. The problem was that an era of limits directly conflicted with the
concept of a Space Shuttle. Reporters were keen to stick a microphone in
Brown’s face and pose that question. Considering that billions dollars in Space
Shuttle funding were being sent to California and that state was set to hugely
benefit from the program, the reporters were in the hope that Brown would
squirm. Yet Brown, the pure politician, simply circle talked and turned the
question on its heels.
Brown said that the Shuttle was
“…marking an evolution in the era of limits. The planet is limited and that’s
why it’s so important that we expand beyond.”
Fortunately, Brown was speaking far
from the Enterprise’s touchdown zone, because if the aircraft had gotten some
of that stuff on its main landing gear it may have slid off the end of the
15,000 foot runway, or even off of the seven-mile-long dry lake.
While the mission climbed toward its
designated release altitude, I am sure that most folks who were not directly
involved with the Shuttle program had little clue as to just how complex the
orbiter’s systems were. In Apollo, both the Lunar Module and the Command Module
had computers to support their share of functions. Those computers combined had
less computing power than a common calculator that grade school kids would
carry in their backpacks 35 years later. The Enterprise, however, had a set of
five computers, four of which worked as redundant units controlling nearly
every aspect of the vehicle. Yet a safe landing could be made with just one
computer. The fifth computer acted as a back-up in case something happened to
the four primary units. A fly-by-wire system that manipulated the aerodynamic control
surfaces completely depended on those computers. In 1977, the use of computers
to completely control anything, let alone a flight vehicle, was close to
science fiction.
THE ALT:
GO FOR SEP.
Reaching their pre-release altitude
of 26,500 feet above the ground, the SCA and orbiter were placed on their
launch heading. At the controls of the 747, designated “905,” was the most
experienced drop pilot on the planet: Fitz Fulton. Acting as his “co-pilot” was
Tom McMurtry, who, with flight engineers Lou Guidry and Vic Horton, made up the
rest of the crew. At the designated Moment Fulton would “push over” into an
eight degree dive and once the speed of 270 knots was reached the Enterprise
would be released by Fred Haise. CAPCOM “Bo” Bobco in Houston was working the
flight with the Enterprise crew with a snap and manner that made you think the
vehicle really was coming back from space. Haise and Fulton, however, could not
avoid a bit of Edwards test flight banter.
“Thanks for the lift, Fitz,” Haise
casually quipped.
“You bet,” Fulton replied, “any
time.”
Finally, the crew aboard 905 counted
down the final seconds to pushover. They called the maneuver.
“Houston copies pushover,” Bobco dutifully
replied.
Upon reaching 270 knots in the eight
degree descent, Fulton called “Launch ready.” Almost simultaneously Haise hit
the button and fired a series of explosive bolts that held the Enterprise to
the SCA. Separation took place at 22,800 feet; slightly higher than planned.
At the Moment of separation, Fulton
pulled 905’s throttles to flight idle and opened the speed brakes while
banking. Aboard the Enterprise, Haise was holding in a five degree, nose-up
attitude command. The two aircraft cleared one another nicely.
Also at the instant of separation,
however, the orbiter’s Master Alarm went off. One of the four main computers,
General Purpose Computer (GPC) number two, had dropped off line. Fullerton went
through the procedure to isolate that GPC and the flight continued. This
failure was later traced to a crack in a poorly soldered joint on the “queue”
circuit board. The result was that the manufacturing method used to build those
boards was later changed, as was the inspection process. Then all orbiters had
their computers retro-fitted with boards made with the new process.
Haise’s first maneuver was to conduct
a “practice landing” at altitude. In other words he put the orbiter into
something similar to a pre-flare attitude and checked its handling. It handled
fine, but on my TV set at home I kept hearing Haise and Fullerton talk about a
“sideways lurch” being there. The “lurch” was the result of the pilots being
seated substantially above the orbiter’s center of roll axes, as well as the
short wingspan of the vehicle. When a roll input was placed into the controls,
the nimble orbiter snapped into the roll and the seated pilots, rather than
feeling rotation, instead felt as if they were being tossed sideways.
So sure were the engineers that this
lurching event would be present that NASA had special vertical stabilizers
added under the Shuttle Training Aircraft’s (STA) wings to help simulate the
lurch. The STA was a modified Gulfstream II corporate jet whose controls and
airframe had been altered to allow it to approach like a Shuttle orbiter.
Flying the Enterprise, the crew found
that the orbiter controlled very well. The orbiter was pitched down to an
attitude that would maintain 207 knots of airspeed. Although the vehicle’s tail
cone allowed it to pitch down less than the -22 degrees that would be needed
for orbiters returning from space, the descent was still plenty steep. Haise
quipped that it flew better than the STA. Houston, however, thought that they
spotted a discrepancy. It was reported to the crew that it looked to Mission
Control as if the Enterprise’s lift to drag ratio (L/D) was “perhaps” slightly
low, meaning the Enterprise could come up short of the runway. Haise was
cleared to start his base leg turn early to correct the problem. Fullerton, who was then at the controls,
began the base turn, but Haise slowed him down. Eyeballing out the window and
checking his own instruments, Haise knew that Houston was wrong and they were
in fact high on the L/D. When he passed that thought to Mission Control, they
replied with an order to apply 30% speed brakes. Apparently, they saw that
Haise was correct. A heartbeat later, Houston recommended 50% speed brakes.
Houston’s misevaluation about the L/D and the early start of the base leg had
added a bit of energy to the Enterprise’s flight path.
Haise had plenty of landing surface
to aim at on the dry lakebed; in the neighborhood of seven miles worth. The
little added energy did not bother him at all.
He simply lined up and guided the Enterprise down. Per the flight plan,
the speed brakes were retracted at 2,000 feet above the ground as Fullerton
armed the landing gear. Exactly 1,100 feet later, Haise entered into the
pre-flare and raised the nose up from the dive-bomber descent to an easy -1.5
degrees, and at an airspeed of 270 knots Haise commanded the gear down.
Fullerton simultaneously pushed the landing gear deployment button. Planned
gear-down speed had been 250 knots, but considering that Haise had picked up
some extra energy in Houston’s botched L/D call, he used the gear deploy as an
approved method for scrubbing off speed. The landing gear fully deployed at 265
knots, prompting its three cockpit indicators to go from a tiger-tail
indication to the “DN” indication. Unexpectedly, there was no sound heard in
the cockpit when the landing gear deployed, but the chase planes confirmed what
the gear indicators had read. Haise guided the Enterprise gently toward the
runway, and with a bit of float, caused by the excess energy, the orbiter
settled gently onto the runway.
I sat there stunned, gazing at my TV
set with my mouth hanging open. There may have been a bit of drool on the
floor, I don’t really recall. The Shuttle was REAL. The darned thing could
really fly like an airplane! It was the most fantastic thing I had seen in
spaceflight since Conrad and Kerwin had deployed the SAS wing on Skylab. Yet
some in the mass media had a different outlook on the ALT. After all it had not
flown like pair of pliers, as some had predicted, and there had been no
spectacular crash, or unforeseen emergency. So the if-it-bleeds-it-leads news
media simply began to shrug the day’s event off. Closing out his 26 minutes of
live coverage on NBC, Jack Perkins finished with his mumbling group of “high
school science students” and, in a hollow attempt to link the ALT to current
pop-culture and the red-hot movie “Star Wars,” looked into the camera and said
that this means that,
“…today we’re a little closer to
Wookies than we were yesterday.”
Famed radio broadcaster Paul Harvey
led his daily “News” broadcast with the flight of the Enterprise and then in
the same breath stated that this day was also the one in which,
“…a man in Oklahoma set a world
record by throwing a cow chip 179 feet.”
So it was that August 12, 1977, would
pass into the pages of history with the headlines of the day documenting a
mass-murderer, the ALT and cow chip throwing.
(AUTHOR's note: Sep was at 11:48:20 Eastern time and touchdown of the mains was at 11:53:51. That information I neglected to place into the manuscript)
At the time of the ALT missions,
NASA’s Public Affairs Office had told the news media that they predicted the
first Shuttle launch could take place in “the spring of 1979,” two years after the first ALT. Watching the
event, it struck me that I would be down in Florida getting my degree in
aviation during that time. NASA also predicted that flight rates would
eventually reach more than one launch per week! Surely I would be there to
witness some of that myself. It was a very exciting thought. Of course neither
the folks in the news media, nor myself bothered to talk about that 1979 date
with the folks at the National Space Technology Laboratory (later know as the Stennis
Space Center) who were testing the Space Shuttle Main Engines (SSME) during
that time period. The SSMEs would not be de-bugged and flight capable at 100%
rated thrust until the spring of 1980, and would not be flight ready at 104%
until early 1981.
I also had no idea that the
Enterprise herself was far from being an orbital vehicle. In fact, she was in
reality little more than an engineering test bed. Her SSMEs and RCS engines
were mock-ups, as was her thermal protection system. Her mid-deck did not exist
and there was no plumbing for operational SSMEs. Fiberglass made up a good deal
of her components as well as her Orbital Maneuvering System pods. She was more
of a flying mock-up than an actual orbiter. Yet, sitting there in Michigan that
August morning in 1977, and watching the Enterprise fly that first ALT, I was
blissfully unaware of any of those shortcomings. All I saw was the future for
me and the future for America’s space program. I immediately set to work
building a small balsawood flying model of the Enterprise. In a way, it became
a metaphor for both my dreams of my immediate future in aviation and for the
Shuttle program itself. That is because when it was done, I stored it in the
hanging ceiling of my basement bedroom as I shipped off to college; over the
years mice dragged it off into a corner and chewed it to pieces.
NOTE: The rest of the full story of the complete ALT program is in "the Space Shuttle" volume of "Growing up with Spaceflight."
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