Flight to the Finish

Dogged by minor mishaps, determined to go the full route, the men of Gemini 5 aimed for eight days in orbit --and made it. Early this week Gordon Cooper and Charles Conrad maneuvered their spacecraft back into the earth's atmosphere over California. Minutes later, at precisely 8:55:58 a.m. (EDT) on Sunday, they splashed down in the Atlantic about 90 miles short of target, soon were picked up by helicopter and lifted to the carrier Lake Champlain. Safe and smiling, they seemed in perfect shape.

Behind them was by far the longest space flight made by anyone. They accomplished their prime mission--proving that man can live and work in space for the amount of time that it would take to journey to the moon and back. During 190 1/2 hours in orbit, they made 120 revolutions around the earth, seeing 120 sunrises and sunsets, and traveled 3,300,000 miles. More important than those records, which would surely be broken by the Gemini 7 flight early next year, were the significant achievements of the voyage. Said Flight Director Chris Kraft: "We have learned a great deal more than we ever expected."

Beyond Expectations. The flight proved more conclusively than anything before it that man is adaptable to the challenges and rigors of space. Though it would be many days before doctors could tell whether "Gordo" Cooper and "Pete" Conrad suffered any really bad effects from the prolonged weightlessness and confinement in their spaceship, they appeared to have nothing worse than stiff joints, heavy beards and nagging itches. Cooper apparently came through better than on his first, 22-orbit flight two years ago; his heartbeat averaged 89 then, about 70 this time.

The astronauts worked hard in space, performing beyond expectations. When equipment unexpectedly conked out, they demonstrated that man has the capacity to become a celestial mechanic. A sighting device went on the blink; Cooper discovered that the trouble was a short circuit, repaired it with a three-inch-long screwdriver. Conrad fixed a pneumatic belt that was wrapped around his thigh in order to stimulate his heartbeat and circulation. Even when necessary components failed beyond repair, the astronauts managed to accomplish many of their assignments. Although a faulty fuel-cell system prevented them from making their planned rendezvous with another object in space, the astronauts maneuvered their craft with such precision that they could have sought out and entered the orbit of another vehicle.

Most of the space gear stood up well, and much of it did better than anticipated, though malfunctions gave the flight a touch-and-go aura all the way. Two rocket thrusters jammed; the fuel-cell system was a constant problem. But the spacemen were pleasantly surprised by the capabilities of other equipment. Gemini's ultra-high-frequency radio transmitter, for example, showed remarkable clarity. Said Chris Kraft: "We're up there to learn systems performance and how to handle problems--and we're getting a good workout."

Static from Moscow. They were, indeed. The astronauts carried out 17 experiments--ten more than Gemini 4. Five of them involved photography. Clicking away with a modified Hasselblad 70-mm. reflex camera and a 35-mm. camera, Cooper and Conrad photographed the moon, the eye of Hurricane Doreen east of Hawaii, and the zodiacal light above the horizon just after twilight and just before dawn--gaining invaluable information for meteorologists and astronomers. They sighted and photographed the firings of two Minutemen missiles, launched to coincide with Gemini's passover. They took infra-red measurements of volcanoes, land masses and blasts from rockets to determine what infra-red heat sensors could find out about earthbound objects. A primary object of these exercises was to prove out the usefulness of spacemen in military surveillance.

Gemini 5 had more military research assignments than any previous civilian space flight--a fact that caused Moscow to talk and squawk more about Gemini 5 than any earlier U.S. space mission. Moscow's Tass at first charged that the U.S. was recklessly gambling with the lives of the spacemen on an ill-prepared mission. When it became clear that Gemini would succeed and lead the U.S. far along on its timetable for reaching the moon, the president of the Soviet Academy of Sciences, Mstislav Keldysh, tried to deflate the news by proclaiming that nobody knows enough about the terrain of the moon to land there any time in the foreseeable future. Later, noting gravely that Gemini would pass 16 times over North Viet Nam, 40 times over Red China, eleven times over Cuba, the Soviet Defense Ministry newspaper Red Star fumed that the spacemen were "spying." Against this backdrop, President Johnson last week gave the go-ahead for a major military effort in space, announced plans for the Air Force's $1.5 billion Manned Orbiting Laboratory (see following story).

Electronic Tag. At Houston's Manned Spacecraft Center, unflappable Chris Kraft every day faced the decision of whether to keep Cooper and Conrad going for still another day. From start to finish, the "go-no go" decision hinged on Gemini's cantankerous fuel cell. A failure in its liquid oxygen supply tank nearly terminated the mission on the first day, and the faulty heating unit that caused the problem never did kick on. As the flight soared into the second day, the oxygen pressure slowly moved upward--and optimism soared at Houston command. "The morning headline," broadcast Kraft to the astronauts, "says your flight may splash down in the Pacific on the sixth orbit." Replied Conrad: "I'm sorry to disappoint them."

The trickle of oxygen became a steady stream, joining in a chemical reaction with hydrogen to produce the electricity to run the craft's computer, radar, communications and environment-control systems. For reasons not yet fully understood, the pressure inside the oxygen tank increased as the volume of liquid oxygen decreased while it was being used. Soon the fuel cell was supplying Gemini with all the electricity it needed, and the astronauts began switching their systems back on. Fuel-cell experts had actually underestimated the system's efficiency, were surprised that they could get sufficient power with such low pressure and so little oxygen fueling the cells. Had they known this beforehand, they could have permitted Gemini to spend enough power for the planned rendezvous with the Radar Evaluation Pod (REP) that it had previously ejected. By the time they found out, REP's batteries were dead, and it was too late.

On the third day up, the astronauts did the next best thing: they played a game of electronic tag. In an imaginary chase across the heavens, Cooper, in four precise maneuvers, closed the gap between the orbit of Gemini 5 and the simulated orbit of a phantom Agena rocket plotted by a computer.

First (see diagram below) he fired a short burst of backward burn from the thrusters, lowering Gemini's apogee by 13 miles. Almost 40 minutes later, he triggered a forward burn to raise the perigee ten miles. Next he yawed the spacecraft and fired the aft thrusters to move it onto the same orbital plane as the phantom. After one last forward thrust to raise the apogee, Cooper had his craft in a co-elliptical orbit with the phantom Agena--close enough so that the pilot, using on-board radar and computer, could eventually bring his craft to within 17 miles below and 38 miles behind the phantom. "Mission accomplished," announced the ground controllers. To have completed the terminal maneuvers, the astronauts would have needed an actual object to sight. "One of the biggest things we've learned," said Kraft, "is being able to pick a point in space, seek it out and find it. And it appears that we have a really good hack* on what we can do with Gemini 6 in getting the spacecraft in the right position to carry out the terminal phase of rendezvous."

Doctor's Orders. The astronauts tended to their equipment that floated about weightless. When they dumped urine overboard, the particles froze in the cold vacuum and sparkled like a roman candle as they drifted by. The men tried to nap. But when one stirred in the cramped quarters, the other woke up. "We don't like to see them so fatigued at so early a point in the flight," said Dr. Charles Berry, chief space-flight surgeon. The doctor's orders: Get more sleep. "I try to," yawned Conrad, "but you guys keep giving us something to do."

Usually Cooper was the taciturn, matter-of-fact command pilot, Pete Conrad the ebullient space tourist. On one pass he chattered with Astronaut Jim McDivitt, sitting as capsule communicator at Houston:

CapCom McDivitt: You sure do talk a lot.

Conrad: What do you want me to do, sing a song?

McDivitt: Think you can?

Cooper (interrupting): He sings off key.

Conrad (off key):

Over the ocean Over the blue Here's Gemini 5 singing to you.

Water Pistols. Whenever possible, the astronauts cast their eyes earthward to see how much could be described from 200 miles out in space. On the fourth day, Conrad's 20/15 vision picked out the contrails of planes flying below, the streets of Jacksonville, and the wake of a ship off the coast of Florida. He also took pictures of the landscape, including Cuba. Spy in the sky? "Just scenic shots," said Conrad dryly.

Toward the end of the 47th revolution, he scored a space first--the visual sighting of a missile launching. "I see it, I see it," cried Conrad, as the 60-ft. Minuteman burst through the clouds over Vandenberg A.F.B. The Air Force had timed the lift-off to test whether Gemini 5 could locate and photograph such an operation. Several revolutions later, the astronauts spotted a second Minuteman launch from Vandenberg.

By that stage of the flight, the astronauts were sleeping about six hours in each 24 and eating three daily meals of bite-size, freeze-dried food, which they rehydrated with a water pistol. They munched on cold spaghetti and meatballs, chicken sandwiches, and peanut cubes. They were feeling fine. "Gordo and Pete," Dr. Berry called up, "you've had 100 hours now, and all the [health] data look really excellent. All the rates and pressures are still well within normal range." Even the "lack of blue-bag activity" did not bother the medical men; Conrad had had only one bowel movement and Cooper none, which was not unusual on their low-residue diets.

"Zap!" A new mechanical problem cropped up on the fifth day. Two of the eight tiny 25-lb. thrusters jammed. Forced to rely more heavily on the other thrusters, Cooper used up considerable fuel, leaving only 17 Ibs. for the rest of the trip. Ground control suggested that Cooper might indulge in "a couple of rolls and a loop" to celebrate when Gemini 5 cracked the time-in-space record held by Russia's Vostok 5. Cooper said he could not spare the fuel--and besides, "That's all we have been doing all day is rolling and rolling."

The endurance record fell as the clock at Mission Control ticked off 119 hr. 6 min. from liftoff. Sitting at his control panel, Kraft said just one word: "Zap!"--a Buck Rogers exclamation to describe the blast of space guns. Then he got on the line to Cooper: "How does it feel for the U.S. to be a world record holder, Gordo?" Replied the laconic spaceman: "At last, huh?"

The rest of Gemini 5's flight was far from smooth. Because of the loss of thruster fuel, Kraft ordered the astronauts to limit their use of the jets and go into a drifting, tumbling flight. They had to scrub some of the remaining photographic experiments that required them to use the thrusters to get into a picture-taking position. Ground control was also worrying about the fuel-cell system again. The process of generating electricity by mixing hydrogen with oxygen was producing much too much of that inevitable byproduct: water. Ground control feared that the spacecraft was running out of storage space for water and that it threatened to back up into the cells and knock them out. Kraft informed Conrad of the problem and asked, "How's that for a surprise?" Cracked Conrad: "Nothing surprises me after lift-off."

To make sure that as little water as possible was created, Kraft ordered the astronauts to power down to 15 amperes from a peak of 44 amperes. On the sixth day, Kraft said that he might have to bring down Gemini 5 on its 107th orbit, one day short of its planned reentry.

Cooper and Conrad took these tribulations in good humor. They listened to Dixieland jazz beamed from Houston--Al Hirt trumpeting Muskrat Ramble, Birth of the Blues, Jada. Houston felt light enough to joke about speculation that Gemini 5 would fall short of its attempt to stay up eight days and have to come down before Sunday. Said Paul Haney, Gemini public affairs chief: "There has been consideration given here to playing Never on Sunday, but it was ruled out as inappropriate." Soon after, Houston cockily played the song.

Grander Goals. Gemini 5 drifted along with one of the two fuel cells shut down to control the water buildup. Asked Cooper: "You think we might make it, huh?" "Looks like it," replied Carnarvon tracking station in Australia. Kraft broke in: "We're sure of it."

On the seventh day, water from the fuel cell no longer seemed a threat, the astronauts managed to bring the spacecraft's tumbling under control--and so it was "go" for the eighth day in space.

The world watched anxiously as Gemini 5 went into its last revolutions. It had been a troubled but triumphant flight. Thanks to it, U.S. astronauts surpassed Soviet cosmonauts on several scores: nine manned space flights to the Russians' eight, a total of 642 man-hours in space to the Russians' 507, 120 revolutions on a single trip to the Russians' 81. Gemini 5 was a crucial stage in the buildup for man's journey beyond the earth orbit. With each mission, the goals became grander. Gemini 6, scheduled as a two-day flight to go up Oct. 25, will attempt to rendezvous and dock with an Agena rocket in orbit. Next year's Gemini 7 aims to go for 14 days --the maximum amount of time required for a lunar round trip and landing. The five Gemini flights after that will provide additional practice in the docking procedures so necessary if U.S. spacemen are to succeed in their bold intention to reach the moon by 1970.

* Space lingo for "grasp."

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