USSR Hoax

21 WAHOO!

“This is Kennedy Launch Control. The Launch Operations Manager has called the three astronauts and says the launch team wishes them good luck and God speed. They all replied ‘Thank you’ and now have a quiet circuit as they switch over to the astrocomm circuit. We’re now T minus 3 minutes, 24 seconds and counting before the launch of Apollo 16.”

Anne stared uneasily up at the loudspeaker that was updating the people in the VIP grandstands on the progress of the launch. The moment was drawing near when Tom would be shot up into the heavens by a rocket that had the force of an atomic bomb. A part of her selfishly wished for a scrub, giving her at least one more month with her husband. A crazy notion deep within her hoped that a cancellation of the launch could lead to the program being shut down and Tom never leaving Earth. Of course, such thoughts were outlandish and self-centered. Flying to the moon was Tom’s dream.

The grandstands were packed with dignitaries. Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best with some women wearing elegant Derby hats. Anne proudly wore her favorite three-year-old white dress with black polka dots. She had considered dressing Peter in a suit, but the young boy would have been miserable in the 85-degree heat.

For many, a Saturn V launch had become mundane. It was simply just another social event, an opportunity to show off a new hairdo or dress. But for Anne and the other crew wives, their husbands were on top of that monster, risking their lives. Nothing in firing off the most powerful rocket ever built was routine. Made up of over a million parts, just one failing piece could lead to a devastating disaster.

Looking out toward the rocket three-and-a-half miles away, Anne adjusted her sunglasses. To see the huge machine clearly, she had to hold up her hand to block out the midmorning sun. The rocket seemed lonely, almost docile, as vapor gases seeped out of its sides in all directions. She felt an odd connection to the mammoth. Her husband was now in its grasp, and she prayed it would take care of him.

A sudden tap on Anne’s shoulder made her look back. The Vice President of the United States, sitting behind her, had a sincere look on his face.

“Your husband will be fine.”

Anne smiled graciously before turning toward Peter next to her, who was playing with his toy Hot Wheels car. He was starting to get restless after spending over an hour in the stands. Anne put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready for Daddy to shoot off to the moon?”

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked up. “Is it time, Mommy?”

“Almost, just a few more minutes. Can you see the rocket?”

Peter set the toy in his lap and looked out toward pad 39A. He lifted his small hands to shield his eyes from the sun’s rays. “Kinda. It seems like a long way away. How come we’re so far?”

All spectators needed to be at a safe distance from the pad in case the rocket exploded. Anne didn’t want to alarm her son with the exact reasoning, so instead came up with something logical that a seven-year-old could grasp. “A lot of fire comes out from underneath the rocket when it lifts off, and NASA wants everyone to be out of harm’s way.”

Peter dropped his hands and looked at her. “I wish I was with Dad, to make sure he’ll be okay.”

Anne smiled at her son as she reached for his hand. “I’m positive he wants you here with me, to make sure I’ll be okay.”

STRAPPED TIGHTLY IN his seat, Tom was all business as he closely monitored the complex control panel in front of him. The launch team were also hard at work carefully watching over their redline values verifying all was a Go. The overall control of the flight was now in the hands of the computer, which made the astronauts nervous. The last thing they wanted was some machine forcing an unneeded scrub.

Tom was in the left seat, which enabled him to command the rocket. Kirk sat in the middle with Dusty in the far right seat. Seeing two minutes left in the countdown, Tom closed his eyes and said a short prayer, a tradition he’d started on his Gemini flight. Lord, please don’t let me mess this up. Watch over Anne and Peter, and if it’s not too much to ask, please keep an eye on the crew of Apollo 16 for the next eleven days. Amen.

Tom opened his eyes and focused on the subpanel of the main console that held the key displays and switches critical to the launch. If any display signaled a failure, it was up to him to determine if he should take over the flight manually or twist the abort handle.

“T-minus one minute and counting.”

Tom had one final task before riding out the last seconds of the countdown. He aligned their “eight-ball” before calling out, “Guidance aligned.”

“Roger, T-minus 30 seconds.”

Tom briefly peered over at his crew, who were stone-faced, looking straight ahead. Tom pushed himself deep into his canvas couch and positioned his hand carefully on the abort lever. He was ready for the ride of his life.

“15, 14, 13…”

Even though Tom was at the top of the thirty-six story high beast, he started to hear muffled sounds through his helmet of the fuel rushing into the five massive F-1 engines at the bottom of the rocket, getting them ready to fire. These were similar engines to the ones he inspected years earlier. A flash shot through his mind that Russian parts were on those engines. He was suddenly a supporter of USSR technology.

“10, 9…”

The rocket was coming alive, as if it had a soul and was ready to take charge. There was no turning back now. Tom and his mates were firing off for the heavens whether they wanted to be or not. Tom took his hand off the abort handle. He decided no matter what happened over the next 20 seconds, he wasn’t turning it. If there was a catastrophic malfunction before the rocket had safely cleared the tower, they would probably be dead either way.

“7, 6, Ignition, 4…”

A slight vibration began as the thunderous sound of those mighty engines transmitted up through the rocket’s metal skeleton, causing Tom’s heart rate to rise.

“3, 2…”

All five LV ENGINE lights went dark on the control panel, indicating all engines had reached 90 percent power and were fighting against the enormous hold down clamps keeping the rocket at bay.

“Liftoff!”

Tom felt a mild jolt as the LIFTOFF light lit, signaling the massive rocket had lifted a few centimeters. The rocket was on its way. There was no way the brute could be put back in place. They were all flying somewhere, the question was, where. Through the vertical shaking, Tom was able to verify that the event clock had reset to zero. The expected shudder was due to the rocket’s engines swiveling back and forth. They constantly corrected the rocket’s path as it slowly rose. Its violent behavior was more than Tom had expected. He impulsively clutched his armrests in an unrealistic, subconscious effort to steady the giant.

Tom confirmed on the control panel that the guidance system was leaning the long rocket slightly away from the tower, ensuring the well-balanced machine couldn’t be blown into the stationary structure. He yelled into his mike, informing mission control the rocket was doing its job, “Yaw program.”

The long nine seconds to clear the tower seemed like an eternity.

A BRIGHT BURST of flames shot out from under the Saturn rocket, momentarily blinding Anne. As the rocket started to gradually rise, the eerie silence of the grandstand was broken by a few whispers of “Go…Go…” All at once a monstrous, thunderous roar blasted against Anne’s body, pushing her back. The massive shockwave caused her to put a hand to her chest. Peter instantly gripped her other hand with both of his and pulled her close, scared by the deafening sound.

“Mommy, is Daddy’s rocket blowing up?”

The grandstands shook. Anne did her best to stay composed as her eyes stayed glued to the rising rocket. To reassure her son, Anne shouted, “No dear, everything’s okay. Daddy is fine.”

Soon the whole grandstand was cheering madly, as a loud chorus of “Go! Go! Go!” echoed out all around them.

“TOWER CLEARED.”

Fighting the rocket’s might, Tom clenched his jaw as he spit out his response, “Roger, clear tower.” Control of the flight had been passed over to Houston. Relieved they were on their way, Tom cautiously moved his hand back onto the abort handle.

The monster was giving them a hell of a ride as it soared into a programmed roll. He took a quick glance at the displays and established they were headed on the correct trajectory. The force of acceleration pushing him deeper into his seat gave him the impression they were heading straight up through the clouds instead of flying in an arc. All systems appeared to be working perfectly. He called out over the shaking. “Roll and pitch program.”

“Roger, roll. You have good thrust in all five.”

“Roger.”

Dusty yelled out, “Wahoo!”

Tom felt just as excited but kept his cool. “Yeah, some ride.”

Kirk was even more subdued as he calmly replied, “Not what I expected.”

The sun abruptly shot through the one window not covered by the aerodynamic, protective shroud. The unexpected rays caught Tom by surprise. He lifted his hand to shield himself from the sun so he could continue to read the controls. As the rocket continued to increase its speed, the lateral frequency, swaying him side to side, made it difficult for him to steady his hand. The g forces pushing him down were slowly climbing. In less than two minutes, just before staging, that force would top out at four and half g’s.

“Stand by for Mode 1 Bravo.”

Tom answered, “Roger, Houston.”

“Mark. 1 Bravo.”

They were now supersonic at a high enough attitude that if they needed to abort, it would be in the safer 1B Mode. Though he didn’t plan on turning the handle, there was a better chance they would survive if he had to. Tom’s eyes stayed riveted on the pitch, yaw, and roll rates. If any of those readings exceeded their safe limits, he would have to consider an abort.

“Your feet are wet now.”

CAPCOM was using an old navy term, telling Tom they were now flying over water and were capable of a water landing. “Roger.”

Off box, so mission control couldn’t hear, Tom joked with his crewmates. “Everyone have their life preservers on?”

Dusty chuckled. “Won’t need them.”

“Roger that.”

The aerodynamic forces acting on the vehicle were continuing to rise as their speed increased. With the air around the rocket thinning, eventually the Saturn V would reach the point where it would experience the mightiest forces ripping at its skin, trying to tear their ride apart. This was known as “Max q,” a major hurdle that was coming up.

“Two and a half g.”

“Sixteen, you’re through max q. Everything looks good.”

“Roger.”

“MARK. 2 MINUTES, 3 seconds. The flight director is going through his status checks in mission control for a Go/No-Go for staging. Coming up on center engine shutdown.”

Hearing the grandstand speakers announce that Tom was well on his way, Anne continued to block out the sun with her hand as she stared up at the long, twirling contrail left by the rocket. It led high into the scattered clouds. She was convinced a faint light at the end of the trail was the flame coming out of the Saturn engines. She blew a kiss in the direction of the light before it disappeared.

“Is Daddy in space?”

Anne looked down at her son. “Almost.”

TOM SAW THE LV Engine 5 light go on communicating the center engine had cut off as planned. “Inboard shutdown.”

“Roger, inboard. You’re Go for staging.”

The first stage booster, which was nearly a half a football field long, had been gobbling up over 13 tons of fuel every second, and it was about to run out of gas. In twenty seconds, the four outboard F-1 engines would simultaneously shut down, and the booster’s job would be done. Just before the second stage engines ignited, the first stage would be cut loose to begin its long fall to its watery grave in the Atlantic Ocean. Through this brief moment of no engine power, the rocket would stop accelerating. But this wouldn’t be true for Tom and his crew, whose inertia would fling them forward hard into their safety straps. The feeling would be similar to driving a car into a brick wall at sixty miles an hour.

Tom wanted to prepare his crew. “Staging in ten seconds. Hang on.”

“Okay.”

Tom decided to do a countdown for his mates, “5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” When the remaining engine lights flicked on, the engines cut off as planned, violently hurling the crew forward. “Whoa!” Tom expected his face to smash into his helmet’s faceplate by the violent action. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw both Dusty and Kirk fling out their arms, probably reflexively, thinking they would crash into the control panel.

Dusty laughed. “Man!”

Tom kept his eyes on the control panel. All the engine lights dimmed, indicating they were separating from the first stage booster. “Staging.” Outside the lone window, the fireball that had been spewing out from behind the rocket engulfed their spacecraft, as if they had backed into the raging flame they had created. Almost simultaneously with the engine lights turning back on, Tom and his crew were slammed back hard into their seats as all five second-stage engines fired, propelling them on their way. Tom battled through the initial vibration as he briefly considered the first stage falling away, never to be seen again. Good job, baby!

Tom instantly zipped back into action. “Ignition on the S-Two.”

“Roger, thrust is a GO on all five on the S-Two.”

A dangerous pogo vibration began to develop, which Tom assumed was due to the metal interstage ring still tagging along. The “skirt” had to go. After a few moments, the SII Sep light darkened, confirming the large band had been released. Almost instantly, the pogo action subsided. “Second stage sep.”

“Roger.”

At their current altitude, the escape tower was no longer needed for an abort. Instantly all the windows were uncovered as the tower was jettisoned.

Tom informed Houston, “Tower jettison.”

“Roger, we confirm the skirt sep. You are mode two.”

“Roger, mode two.” This confirmed they were riding on the second stage.

Dusty’s voice reached a hilariously high pitch. “Wow, look at that view!”

Even Kirk showed excitement. “Dang. That is beautiful!”

Tom looked out his window. He was back in that special place, high above the earth. He thought back to when he circled his planet outside the Gemini spacecraft during his EVA. That experience had been a long time ago, in fact, too long. “You two will be amazed at the sights you’ll see from this point on.”

ANNE FELT A tug on her dress.

“Mommy, can we go now?”

Anne had been keeping tabs on the flight as the public announcements kept coming from the grandstand speakers. Even though some folks had been getting up and leaving, she had hoped to stay in the stands until she knew Tom was safely in space. But with the rocket long gone, Peter had been pestering her for something to drink. Remembering there was a concession stand behind the bleachers, she figured she could still hear the updates from there. Plus, she would be able to finally light up a desperately needed cigarette. “How would you like to go with me and get a Coke?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Yes, please.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

As they both stood, the vice president spoke to her. “Your husband did a great job. He’s a real patriotic hero.”

Anne turned with a polite smile. “Thank you, sir.”

The vice president looked down at Peter. “So, Son, are you going to be an astronaut like your dad?”

Anne raised her hand before Peter could speak. “One astronaut in this family is more than enough.”