The Salmon-Colored Blur

The heroes of early aviation were men who tested dubious airplanes to see if they would fly. or bailed out with questionable parachutes to see if they would open. Much of this work today is done by expendable instruments, but a few human risk-takers are still needed. One of them is a 44-year-old medical officer at Holloman Air Development Center, Alamogordo. N. Mex. His colleagues consider him the bravest man alive.

Lieut. Colonel John Paul Stapp is a shortish (5 ft. 8 in.) bachelor with a small, neat paunch. He speaks with professorial precision, wears gold-rimmed glasses, likes to cook, grows roses and plays golf badly. His job in aviation medicine is to study the effect of bailing out of speeding jet planes into fiercely buffeting air. Since jet planes flying at safe altitudes are inconvenient laboratories, especially for observing the effects of rapid stops, he uses the most horrifying vehicle ever devised by man: a sled pushed on rails by a cluster of roaring rockets. As an experimental subject, he uses his own body.

Faster & Faster. Stapp's first sled ride was seven years ago. The sled, a one-rocket job, got up to 90 m.p.h. and coasted to an easy stop. Later rides were not so gentle. More powerful rockets made the new-model sleds start like frightened jackrabbits and pushed them along the rails at the speed of fighter planes. Stapp rode them all. He suffered the acceleration forces as they speeded up and the even greater forces of deceleration as the water brake (long trough of water engaging a scoop on the sled) brought them to a wrenching stop. Faster and faster speeded the sleds; fiercer and fiercer grew the wind buffeting against him. Once his wrist pulled loose and fractured against a railing. He set it himself and that night had oysters for dinner because he could not cut any meat. The same wrist got smashed again later. "It is a little out of line.'' says Stapp. "about 10% deviation. But all I wanted was a functional wrist." In spite of many injuries, Stapp is still reasonably functional, but his most recent sled rides have made it hard for him to stay so. Last month at Holloman he climbed into a nine-rocket sled. In his mouth he held a rubber "bite block'' so that the jolting would not crack his teeth His helmet was fastened firmly so that the wind would not break his neck. Four strong nylon belts lashed him to the seat His elbows were lashed together by a strap behind his back, and his wrists were lashed together in front. His legs were tied in three places: thighs, knees and ankles The nine big rockets (total thrust 40,000 lbs.) fired all together, and the sled leaped down the rails, leaving behind ; huge cloud of smoke and overtaking a jetplane flying overhead. When the rocket: burned out. the sled was moving at 63 m.p.h. Then the water brake took hold throwing fountains of spray, and brough it to a rapid stop.

Stapp, the careful scientist, recorded every novel sensation. He felt the risin; storm of the wind against his body, am the terrible thrust of the rockets. Durin; the five seconds that they burned, they accelerated the sled with a force of 7 1/2 to 9 Gs,* pressing him back against the sea with 7 1/2 to 9 times the weight of his body For about 2 1/2 seconds he could see the track as a racing blur. Then his vision narrowed and blacked out altogether. Since he did not lose consciousness, he knew that the Gs had drained the blood out of his eyeballs, but not out of his brain.

Specks of Blue. When the rocket burned out. the Gs died down to nothing The blackness in Stapp's eyes turned briefly to yellow, and like a fleeting vision he caught a glimpse of the world. It was gone in a blur of salmon-colored light a the water brake took hold and powerful deceleration forces, up to 35 Gs, slammed him against his belts.

"There was intense pain in the eyes, says Stapp dispassionately. "It felt a though my eyes were being pulled out of my head--about the same sort of sensation as when a molar is being yanked an you feel the roots begin to give. I had great difficulty breathing because of the tightness of my chest strap. When the sle stopped, the salmon blur was still there." As a medical man, Stapp knew that th Gs had pulled his eyeballs outward an "impinged them against the eyelids." He did not know how far they had pulled, or whether the retinas had-been detached (which would have made him permanently blind). "After the sled stopped," he says, "it was a minute or so before anyone came up. I was fully conscious. The someone opened my helmet, but I couldn't see anything. I yelled, 'I can't see.' They took off my helmet, and I tried to stand up, but I was too wobbly. I lifted my eyelids with my fingers, but I couldn't see a thing, just that salmon-colored blur. I shook my head, but that didn't help. They put me on a stretcher, and I saw specks of blue in the midst of the salmon blur. In about eight minutes the blue specks became blue sky and clouds. Then I knew that the retinas had not detached."

Stapp considered himself in excellent shape in other respects. He had two black eyes where blood vessels had ruptured; he had strap burns and bruises where bits of sand had blasted against him. His sinuses were blocked for three days; but in two days more he passed a physical examination and returned to duty.

Lashed Pilot. Colonel Stapp lives in his house near Holloman, enjoying hi-fi music and pondering the lessons of his latest sled ride. He thinks that he experienced more wind and deceleration than a pilot bailing out at the speed of sound at 35,000 ft. altitude. This may be taken as proof, he believes, that an ejection seat (cost: $4,000) is enough to save such a pilot's life, and that an elaborate "ejection capsule" (cost: $30,000) is not needed. The pilot, he remarks, would have to be lashed down to the seat, or the wind would break his arms, legs and neck.

New tests are in the offing. Under development is a sled that will speed much faster on a longer track. It will have a windshield, permitting better streamlining. But at the point of highest speed, the shield will be jettisoned. Then wind at 24 Ibs. pressure per sq. in. (3,456 Ibs. per sq. ft.) will strike the occupant's body. The occupant? Colonel Stapp.

*One G equals the force of gravitation at the surface of the earth.

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