OUEST

THE HISTORY OF SPACEFLIGHT QUARTERLY

Mercury Apollo VIII Launch Control Operations

Volume 19, Number 2 2012

DEVELOPMENT OF THE X-1 15 AT NACA L ANGLEY AERONAUTICAL LABORATORY J OHN T RIBE : TALES OF A ROCKET ENGINEER
Gemini

MY LIFE AS A NASA FLIGHT CONTROLLER SUPER DYNA -S S OAR :

THE USAF D YNA -S S OAR SYSTEM PROGRAM OFFICE IN -H H OUSE PROPOSAL

Space Shuttle

Contents
Volume 19 Number 2 2012
Features More Book Reviews

Chasing Theory to the Edge of Space:

The Development of the X-1 15 at NACA Langley Aeronautical Laboratory By Robert C. Moyer and Mary E. Gainer

58

Integrating Women into the Astronaut Corps: Politics and Logistics at NASA, 1972-2 2004
Book by Amy E. Foster Review by Michael J. Neufeld

34 45

My Life as a NASA Flight Controller

By Cecil N. Bassham

59

The Apollo Guidance Computer:

Architecture and Operation Book by Frank OBrien Review by Paul Ceruzzi

Super Dyna-S Soar:

The USAF Dyna-S Soar System Program Office In-H House Proposal By David Stern

60

When Biospheres Collide:

A History of NASAs Planetary Protection Programs Book by Michael Meltzer Review by Lisa Westwood

Oral History

19

John Tribe: Tales of a Rocket Engineer

Interview by Joel Powell

61

Smoke Jumper, Moon Pilot:

The Remarkable Life of Apollo 14 Astronaut Stuart Roosa Book by Willie G. Moseley Review by Benjamin S. Zibit

Book Reviews

54

Turning Dust to Gold:

Building a Future on the Moon and Mars Book by Haym Benaroya Review by Harley Thronson

62

Lights of Mankind:
The Earth at Night As Seen from Space Book by L. Douglas Keeney Review by Andrew K. Johnston

55 56

SpaceShipOne: An Illustrated History

Book by Dan Linehan Review by Scott Sacknoff

63

A Kansan Conquers the Cosmos

Or, Spaced Out All My Life! Book by Alan Glines Review by Jim Remar

Selecting the Mercury Seven:

The Search for Americas First Astronauts Book by Colin Burgess Review by Matthew H. Hersch

64

Into the Cosmos:

Space Exploration and Soviet Culture Edited by James T. Andrews and Asif A. Siddiqi Review by Brian Frank

57

Beyond Pluto:
Exploring the Outer Limits of the Solar System Book by John Davies Review by Roger D. Launius

Front Cover Images

Mission control from the Mercury, Gemini, Apollo, and Space Shuttle programs. Credit: NASA 2012

Q U E S T 19:2 1

MY LIFE AS A NASA FLIGHT CONTROLLER

By Cecil N. Bassham of hours that I spent studying in preparing myself for and to become a member of the AECP, I found myself continually rubbing the gold-plated second lieutenants bar for my Air Force officers flight cap that I purchased on the day that I was notified of my acceptance to OCS and proudly was wearing when my wife opened the apartment door. In fact, I had rubbed it so much that the gold wore off and the bar appeared more like a silver plated 1st Lieutenants bar by the time I received my bachelor of science degree in mechanical engineering (aeronautical engineering option), the degree conferred on me by the University of Wyoming. My first assignment after commissioning was to the Air Force Institute of Technology Resident School of Engineering. I was the very first AECP student to return to graduate school. My classmates were former West Point, Naval Academy, and Air Force Academy students, who were also returning pilots from the first wave of pilots assigned to Vietnam and decorated at AFIT with the most medals ever awarded at AFIT. These distinguished academy students and war heroes had to wait seven years after applying for AFIT School of Engineering to attend the school. My application consisted of a one paragraph letter and a wait period of about two months. And as I mentioned before, these returning pilots had to return to Vietnam while I, as a 1st Lieutenant and the lowest ranking member of the 14-man class, was assigned on a special category assignment to the NASA Manned Spacecraft Center (MSC) [now Johnson Spaceflight Center] at Houston, Texas, as a NASA flight controller assigned to the Skylab Apollo Telescope Mount (ATM). On my very first assignment as a professional engineer, I had a lot of learning ahead of me, basic things like how to act professionally among supervisors and peers, and what to expect in the approval process. The flight controllers, branch Q U E S T 19:2 34 2012

Becoming a Professional Engineer I had joined the United States Air Force to learn a trade and prepare myself for the workplace. The thought of becoming a commissioned officer never entered my mind. I had re-enlisted in Germany and hoped to retire as a Master Sergeant after 20 years of active duty. One day my supervisor told me to report to the hospital for a physical examination. I had no idea why, and I did not ask any questions. I did not know why I was being tested, and I did not ask. I learned later that I was taking testscalled Stanine teststo qualify for Officers Candidate School (OCS). Other airmen in my squadron had also been selected for officer qualification testing. I took the test and was told to return in the afternoon for another test. I was the only one from my squadron told to return. (On reflection, this was a surprise. I was never a top student in any of my school classes. I passed with mostly As and Bs and a few Cs. I played hooky and got one E for Poor Pass, a grade lower than D, but higher than a failing grade.) The afternoon test was an aptitude test. I was later told that I had passed and that I should apply for OCS. During my spare time, I spent hours and hours looking at live launches and missions of the Mercury and Gemini spacecraft and wishing I was a part of itnot knowing that I would be a flight controller on missions to the Moon. I was studying to prepare myself scholastically for entry into the Airmens Education and Commissioning Program (AECP), an Air Force program for airmen to attend college at government expense and become an Air Force officer after completion of the Air Force Officers Training School (OTS), I was selected to attend the University of Wyoming, to major in aeronautical engineering. During the exorbitant number

Official U.S. Air Force photo of Cecil Bassham, 1969. Courtesy of: Cecil Bassham

chiefs, and section heads in Gene Kranzs Flight Control Division were free to speak without fear of reprisal. Many of the NASA meetings were of a near combative nature. If someone had an opinion, they were encouraged to speak up. This was good in a lot of ways: the group identified issues and worked them out. In later military meetings, I learned that the military meetings were more systematic and the interfaces with ranking members were highly respectful. In other words, a junior officer in a military meeting would not vehemently oppose a general officer unless he was willing to end his career. At NASA, however, behaviors were closer to a slugfest. On several occasions I personally challenged Gene Kranz, a division chief and GS-15 at the time. Admittedly, I was scared to oppose Gene, but I felt it was necessary, and good things happened out of the ensuing discussions. The very first thing that I learned and experienced as a professional was a result of my work on my very first task. No one at MSC had been able to explain

gyro saturation. Having studied gyroscopic theory in my graduate studies, it was readily obvious to me what the term meant. I was tasked to write a letter to Christopher Craft, a famous pioneer in the Mercury and Gemini projects and one of the top managers at MSC, to explain gyro saturation. I wrote the letter rather quickly, but it took six weeks for my superiors to edit and finalize the letter, which consisted mostly of punctuation edits and wordsmithing. I mistakenly thought that the six weeks was a waste of time. Later I learned the importance of editing formal documentation. On receiving the document, Mr. Craft ordered 20 copies of the letter for distribution throughout the Center. A few months later, I was assigned to the Apollo project. One of my first assignments was to go to a remote site simulator in the United States and learn all that I could about remote site capabilities and remote site operations for uplinking commands. I sat down at the remote station console and uplinked commands. I typed so fast that a couple of commands that should have been uplinked did not get uplinked. This caused great concern with the program office representative. I learned how to read the raw data in sinusoidal form and distinguish between the 1s and 0s that are the basics for binary code. When I returned to Houston, I was the expert. No one else had ever done it, so I became an Instant Expert. This seemed strange to me, but the knowledge I gained proved very useful in Apollo operations on the two occasions [when] I had to communicate directly with the remote site operator and tell him step-by-step what commands to uplink. George Contois, a very knowledgeable flight controller, and I were the only MSC representatives in the very first discussion of unmanned Skylab operations, which eventually were implemented. George and I, as MSCs representatives, performed several very valuable functions for Skylab before a meeting one day when George Contois came to my area and said, Cecil, grab your headset. We are going to a simula-

tion. Simulations In the spring of 1969, George Contois received an offer and was considering leaving Philco-Ford, a NASA contractor, to work for another company away from MSC. George was scheduled for the position of ALSEP senior engineer (ASE) for Apollo 11, the very first mission to the Moon. ASE was responsible for all Apollo Lunar Surface Experiments Package (ALSEP) and Passive Seismic Experiment Package (PSEP) operations. PSEP was a solar powered seismometer that was carried to the Moon and deployed by the crew of Apollo 11, whereas ALSEP was the name given to the seismometer experiments after Apollo 11 (that is Apollo 12 through Apollo 17). Each ALSEP had a unique configuration designed for the particular experiment objectives for each of the ALSEP seismometer experiments. PSEP was powered by solar arrays, whereas the ALSEP seismometer experiments were nuclear powered. Unbeknownst to me, George had recommended me as his replacement. I had no prior knowledge of the recommendation or of the plan to train me in the upcoming simulation in which George and I would participate. Also, I did not know how extensive the simulation would be. I anticipated a low key training session with George teaching me the ropes. I was dead wrong. On the way over to the Mission Operations Control Room (MOCR) in Building 30, George told me he would be there with me during the simulation. I interpreted this to mean George would be there as a coach to make on-the-spot corrections if I did, or was going to do, anything wrong and that his headset would be plugged in to allow him to continually monitor the communication channels, or the loops, throughout the simulation. I felt fairly comfortable with this procedure and my expectations of a low-key simulation. In Building 30, we entered the ALSELP Staff Support Room (SSR). The SSRs are rooms in the proximity to the MOCR where teams of personnel are available to support the officer in the Q U E S T 19:2 35 2012

MOCR. Although there was an experiments officer in the MOCR, he was for the most part inactive and only monitored the loops. The control for the ALSEP and PSEP operations was from the ALSEP SSR and supporting SSRs throughout Building 30. All ALSEP commands to the Moon were performed by ASE or rarely from a remote uplink station in a back-up mode under the direction of ASE. All decisions affecting the operations and health of the ALSEP and PSEP were made by ASE. Although technically ASE was under the direction of the flight director, the flight director was primarily interested in putting the astronauts on the Moon and safely returning them to Earth. As a result, the operations of ALSEP were mostly ignored by the flight director and left to the ASE. In a sense, the ASE functions were very similar to those of the flight director, albeit at a much lower level in terms of personnel and priorities, whereas all other MOCR positions reported directly to the flight director and coordinated all their actions with and respond directly to the flight director. All other SSR positions reported directly to their respective officers in the MOCR, who in turn interacted with the flight director. All voice communications between the astronauts in space and the ground personnel were through an astronaut in the MOCR at the CAPCOM position. Next to the ASE position was the systems engineer position and behind the ASE and systems engineer console was the data engineer who kept track of, collected, and organized the data, which was printed on the large IBM printer sheets from a large daisy-wheel printer. In a separate SSR was the ALSEP network engineer to ensure that the worldwide and deep space data and voice networks were functioning throughout the mission. My team members located with me in the ALSEP SSR were Marvin Jesse Walker, my systems engineer, and Bernie Brabant, my data engineer. Jesse had worked with me on Skylab but knew very little about ALSEP or PSEP. Both Jesse and I had absolutely no experience as a flight controller. Bernie was

in his 40s or 50s and as an older, experienced engineer, could watch over us younger controllers and provide guidance as necessary. In a later ALSEP simulation I listened to Bernie, and in doing so I lost the simulated PSEP by not taking immediate action. From that point on, I refused to listen to Bernie, and took complete charge of my weaker team. The ALSEP network engineer seemed to be OK. So I had to take complete charge over the weaker members assigned to me. I had essentially no experience with ALSEP and very little knowledge of its engineering details, but I had as much, if not more, knowledge than my systems engineer. In summary, I was the leader of the weak team, and I knew it. George and I entered the ALSEP SSR, and I saw that it was crowded with many government and contractor engineers. I had been given a binder about four inches thick, which contained the procedures for the simulation. I had never seen any part of the book before. I sat down at the ASE position and opened the binder and saw nothing familiar to me. Jesse and Bernie occupied their assigned positions. The simulation began, but it was not the low-key simulation I had expected. It was a dress rehearsal before the first mission to the Moon. The astronauts, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, were in their space suits walking on a simulated lunar surface at Cape Kennedy in Florida. The worldwide communications systems were operating and fully manned. Every position in the MOCR and SSRs were manned. In the short time that I had, I became as familiar as I could with the giant binder of unfamiliar technical documents in front of me. Becoming familiar with the contents of the binder was no small feat. George had the long cord of his headset plugged into the receptacle next to mine, and he stood about five feet from me, leaning against a wall. The very first command I sent during the worldwide simulation did not go exactly right. Being unfamiliar with my console at the time, I attempted to execute a command by pushing the execute square illuminated push but-

ton. I had my left hand holding the push-to-talk component attached to a cable with my left finger curled around the push-to-talk button. I counted down to the execute command, 3...2...1...mark. However, instead of pushing the execute button, I mistakenly pressed the push-to-talk button with my finger on the opposite hand. Realizing what I had done, I immediately remarked, AW, SHIT!the words that I routinely used on the golf course which were transmitted around the world on the NASA Deep Space Network (DSN). The simulation started and 30 seconds later George pulled the plug to his headset out of the receptacle and walked across to a far wall across the large room and, with his arms folded in front of him, George watched. I was all alone to call the shots in a worldwide, full-up simulation reading a strange script of unfamiliar terms in a large four-inch thick binder in front of me, listening to the chatter of about a dozen simultaneous conversations at the same volume level, and trying to focus on the one conversation that would be of primary interest to the PSEP operations, and listening for the call that all flight controllers dread, such as ASE, this is flight. Whenever flight called a particular position, he would ask a question and he had better get an immediate answerthe right answerthe first time. As Gene Kranz said during the Apollo 13 mission, failure is not an option, and he meant it. Lucky for me, in my many, many hours and days responsible for the PSEP operations, I only received one call from flight: ASE, this is flight. Hows it going back there? Fine, flight, I responded. And that was it! The simulations were extremely stressful to the point I often felt like getting up and walking away, but I did not. I made a crucial mistake. I had let the astronauts deploy the solar-powered PSEP in the shadow of the LM. I was frantically told by the EVA flight controller of the mistake, but with everything else happening among all the simultaneous chatter of a dozen or so Q U E S T 19:2 36 2012

voices at the same volume in my ear piece, I failed to make the flight director aware of the situation. The EVA flight controller got so frustrated with my inaction that he frantically came up to my position and physically tapped my shoulder very firmly so that I would respond. I looked at him, and he yelled to me that I had deployed the PSEP in the shadow of the LM. The bottom line to all of this was that during the very realistic simulation, I had lost the PSEP by my mistake and a few minutes later the simulation was terminated. I was thinking that I was the only one making a mistake, but I was wrong. The entire simulation was a failure. When I heard that practically everybody screwed up in one way or another, I was relieved, but still felt extremely bad for my performance. After the full-up failed simulation, I participated in other simulations for ALSEP operations only. All of these follow-on simulations, with the exception of one, were very successful. The one exception was a simulation in which the trainers inserted a malfunction into the PSEP simulation software. My systems engineer and I began to troubleshoot the problem and take corrective action. Bernie, the older data engineer and overseer, however, slowed down our progress. He said, There is no hurry, we have all day if we need it. I was convinced by his experience that we should take our time to resolve the problem, but I was wrong because the simulated PSEP eventually failed, and recovery was no longer possible. The simulation had been realistic and I felt that I had lost the PSEP and said so during the debriefing. I had learned a very significant lesson. I would refuse to follow Bernies advice in the future. In my mind, my leadership had been established and reinforced by the failed simulation. After the completion of the Apollo simulations, I had matured and felt confident in my ability to perform as the senior ALSEP engineer, responsible for and in charge of PSEP operations on my shift during the very first manned mission to the Moon. My dream a few years before of being a part of the space program had been realized. I was 31

years old and in a leadership role for this historic flight. Years later, I met with George Contois at a bar in Washington, DC, and during the course of our reunion I asked him, Why was I selected as your replacement after I totally screwed up during that simulation? George replied, You answered the loops! In other words, in a stressful situation, I neither froze as some previous flight controllers had done nor did I walk away from the console like others. I had hung in there under very stressful conditions, and I did not freeze up or abandon my position. I simply answered the loops! The Apollo 11 Mission The atmosphere throughout the MOCR and SSRs was tense during the descent. A last-minute problem had occurred with the automatic landing sequence. Neil Armstrong was flying Eagle looking for a place to land. Gene Kranz polled the flight controllers on readiness for landing. FIDO. GO. GUIDO. GO. EECOM. GO. And so on. Contact light, radioed Neil Armstrong. The contact light was initiated by probes extending from the LMs legs to indicate touchdown. Jittery excitement was heard over the loops as the flight controllers realized the LM had landed which was immediately confirmed by Neil Armstrong: Houston, Tranquility Base, Armstrong called. The Eagle has landed. Near pandemonium broke out, but the countdown sequence continued. 3...2...1...0...+1...+2, etc. Gene Kranz had to settle down the flight controllers who were to say stay or no stay at certain time hacks to help make the decision on whether to stay on the Moon or take off immediately for the orbiting Mike Collins. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were inside the LM

finishing up the landing checklists. The EVA was scheduled to begin many hours later. Shortly thereafter, I heard the ALSEP network engineer say, ASE, we have a problem. The ALSEP network did not get configured to handle ALSEP data. We will have to configure the network. I did not know what to expect from this problem, but learned shortly thereafter that ALSEP data was being recorded at a deep space ground site. The problem was transferring the data in real-time from the remote site to Houston. With all attention having been given to mainline Apollo, the lower priority experiment operations were overshadowed. All other operations like the pioneer experiments operations were secondary in priority to landing astronauts on the Moon. Basically, the task of configuring the deep space network communications network for ALSEP fell through the crack due to the extraordinary attention given to mainline Apollo. The good news was that no lunar seismic data would be lost, because it could be recorded at the remote site where it was received. The tapes containing the scientific data would have to be shipped to Houston in lieu of being received at Houston in real time. The problem was resolved before the EVA started. I heard the supervisor of the Australian deep space network site, ASE, my technician could have the weekend off and send the data to Houston Monday morning. Is this OK? I checked with Dr. Gary Latham, the principal investigator, who monitored PSEP in my area for most of the Apollo mission. Dr. Latham had studied under Dr. Maurice Ewing, the renowned pioneer of seismology. Dr. Latham did not like the idea as he wanted the data, the first ever seismic data from the Moon, as soon as possible. I declined the request and told the Australian site supervisor that the technician needed to work over the weekend. I was impressed by the state of the art communications in 1969 providing instant communication remote sites around the world and that I could Q U E S T 19:2 37 2012

approve or disapprove requests from remote sites in real time from Houston. We worked on 12-hour shifts. My shift was from 4:00 PM to 4:00 AM. Mine was still the weak shift. The best team was the day shift, but problems did not occur only during the day shift. The most qualified team had some very boring days. (After PSEP achieved operational readiness, all of the critical actions and problems occurred on my shift.) The first crisis came after the Apollo astronauts had landed on the Moon. The flight plan called for an Extra Vehicular Activity (EVA) to begin several hours after the Lunar Module (LM) landed on the Moon. (EVAs are activities performed outside the spacecraft.) For the Apollo 11 mission, after the LM had landed, the EVA meant exploration of the lunar surface by the astronauts. I was on duty as the ASE when Eagle landed on the Moon. After a short time in the Lunar Module sitting on the lunar surface, Neil Armstrong requested that he and Buzz Aldrin be allowed to perform the EVA earlier than scheduled. The request for an early EVA was approved and Armstrong and Aldrin began putting on their space suits for the lunar surface exploration. I was faced with a decision: Should I and my team participate in the very critical EVA, or should I have my team replaced by the most experienced and most qualified team? The factors were: 1. Men were on the Moon for the first time in history. 2. Apollo 11 was the first mission and could very well be the last mission to the Moon. 3. My team was the weak team. 4. The A Team with the in-depth expertise for PSEP was off-duty. 5. I was willing to perform my duty as ASE and most likely I would have been successful. I concluded that the risk was too great for the potential benefits to be realized by having the weakest team in charge of the critical placement of the

PSEP. I telephoned Burt Sharp at his home. Burt was the A team leader, who was also the ALSEP section head, and I recommended he get his team to the PSEP SSR to perform the tasks for successfully deploying and setting up the PSEP instruments. I told him that I felt that my team could handle the deployment, but that the best team should handle the extremely critical tasks involved in the PSEP deployment Burt responded by saying, Let the chips fall as they may, meaning I should handle the EVA. I responded by telling him I was confident I could handle the EVA, but my staff did not have the in-depth knowledge of the system to handle a critical problem that might occur and I believed the importance of the mission should dictate the A team handle the EVA. Burt agreed and he brought in his team, the A team, to perform the PSEP functions of the EVA. Looking back, I believe that of all the critical decisions I had to make throughout my 55-year careerand there were manythis was the most important one of all. After the EVA, it was time to launch the LM from the Moon. There was a lot of anxiety around the world. The astronauts were on the Moon, and it was time to get launched back into space for the trip back to Earth. The world waited, until all of a sudden the LM just took off straight up without the fireworks that accompany a Saturn V launch. The CSM, orbiting the Moon waiting for the LM, began its rendezvous maneuvers, locked onto the LM and started the journey back to Earth. The PSEM data was lost for a few minutes when the LM lifted off. The unexpected happened a few minutes later, when data began to be received from the PSEP. The astronauts had set switches to put the ALSEP in its prescribed configuration. When data was received, the PSEP configuration was completely changed from the way the astronauts had configured the system. (A cartoon appeared shortly thereafter in the MOCR showing a giant ugly, alien creature on the Moon holding and shaking the PSEP.) We were all scratching

our heads trying to figure out what happened. The answer was that the gases had ionized, and the charged ions from the LM rocket exhaust had interfered with the PSEP circuitry probably along an unshielded ribbon cable on the PSEP causing transistors to switch states. We were all satisfied with the answer, as it is a logical explanation for the change in configuration. On my very next shift, I arrived at the ALSEP SSR on schedule and immediately saw disarray in the SSR. The SSR was packed with people all astir about something. Keith Kundell, the most knowledgeable engineer of all ALSEP engineers, was on duty as ASE. A picture of Keith looking at the strip chart recorder data was painted on a mural on the wall in the stairwell at the then-new institute for lunar science at Galveston, Texas. When Keith saw me, he immediately got up and walked toward the exit. As he passed me, he said in his frustration, Take it, I couldnt get the damn thing leveled, and he immediately stormed out of the room saying nothing more. So there I was in charge with nothing to go on except that the PSEP had not been leveled and could not measure seismic activity on the Moon. The PSEP had to be leveled before it could register seismic data from the Moon onto the strip chart recorders and seismic instruments located in the ALSEP SSR. I sat down at my console and plugged my headset into the receptacle and called roll as I always did at the beginning of my shift to make sure that all PSEP positions were manned. I remember my voice booming over the loops, sounding very authoritative, which surprised me. I noticed that the fervor of activity in the SSR had immediately settled down. I realized that I had gained control of ALSEP SSR. Then I announced in a slow, deliberate, low pitched, authoritative voice We are going to level the PSEP following the procedure. On my command, I will execute the auto level command. 3...2...1...mark. On mark, I executed the auto level command, which initiated the PSEP automatic leveling mechanism. As the automatic leveling sequence was executing, my systems Q U E S T 19:2 38 2012

engineer observed the strip chart recorder at the right of his console. I was prepared to stop the automatic leveling sequence when he observed the stylus crossing the strip recording charts and then immediately notified me so I could switch from automatic to manual mode. Within a couple of seconds or so, the stylus crossed the strip chart recorder graph from one extreme to the other, and I switched from automatic level mode to manual level mode. Then I announced that I would be sending the manual command to level the PSEP. Throughout the Apollo missions, I always announced my planned PSEP commands before they were executed. This seemed to help as all ALSEP flight controllers on duty around the world knew what was being done, and they could focus on monitoring the effects on their part of the operation. Then I sent the manual level command to reverse the direction of the leveling motion which would bring the stylus back onto the strip recording chart. When the stylus reached the midpoint of the strip recording chart, it would be leveled, and the leveling procedure would end. In a few seconds, the stylus reappeared, and when it reached the midpoint of the chart, I stopped executing the manual level command. For the first time in history, scientific data was being received from an instrument placed on the Moons surface by a human being, operational readiness of the PSEP had been established, and everyone in the ALSEP SSR was relieved and went about their specific duties in monitoring the operation of the PSEP. Terminator Crossing Another key event occurs when the terminator crosses the PSEP. The terminator is that point at which the lunar surface as viewed from Earth transitions from lunar day to lunar night and vice versa. During lunar day part of the lunar surface, as viewed from Earth, is exposed to the Sun and the solar-powered PSEP receives its source of energy. It takes about 14 days for the Moon to transition from full Moon (lunar daytime at maximum exposure to the Sun) to the point where the Moon can no longer be seen from the Earth (lunar

darkness). During the lunar night,which consists of several Earth days, the PSEP heaters were powered from a battery (which was recharged during the solar day), and the transmitter was commanded off while still exposed to sunlight to conserve battery power. As the Moon entered lunar night, it was important to switch on the PSEP heaters and turn off the transmitter to increase the chance of PSEP survival during the extreme temperatures of the lunar surface during lunar night (down to approximately 150 degrees Fahrenheit, depending on location). The other temperature extreme that occurs during the lunar day is approximately +250 degrees Fahrenheit, depending on location. The PSEP was required to survive a lunar night after being cold soaked for several days at the extremely cold temperatures. After the first lunar night which was equivalent to several Earth days that the Moon cannot be seen from the Earth*, I was scheduled to turn on the PSEP, as the PSEP environment changed from night to day as the terminator crossed the PSEP. It was not known if the PSEP would operate at the end of the extremely cold lunar night. I had simulated turning the PSEP on at terminator crossing. During simulation, I sensed that timing was not critical with respect to turning on the instrument, and I turned on the simulated PSEP at a different time than that on the preplanned timeline. I was criticized by my branch chief for not adhering to the timeline. Simulations identify operator errors and mistakes can be corrected before the actual mission. The timeline called for the PSEP to be turned on at 1:00 AM central standard time. I was very careful to follow the timeline and sent the command to turn on the PSEP exactly to the second at 01:00:00. This exact time was reported by the newspapers. The PSEP was developed by the Bendix Corporation. The president of Bendix and other upper-management personnel of the corporation were present when I executed the turn on command and had their eyes glued to the strip chart recorder, which measured critical engineering parameters being telemetered from the PSEP to Earth. The PSEP

Buzz Aldrin deploying PSEP on the Moon.

Credit: NASA

responded as it should and a loud cheer went up from the Bendix managers observing the strip chart recorder. The PSEP functioned as specified after surviving the extreme cold temperatures for the several Earth days corresponding to the lunar night. Survival of PSEP after Lunar Night Special procedures had to be developed for terminator crossing. I developed the procedures for terminator crossing for PSEP and was the ASE for terminator crossings. The terminator can be envisioned as a shadow that slowly approaches a point changing from light to complete darkness along with temperature changing from positive 240 to minus 150 degrees Fahrenheit in a very short time. Approaching lunar night, the PSEP electrical heaters had to be commanded on before the transmitter was turned off. The transmitter had to be turned off just prior to the terminator crossing when the solar panels were still exposed to the Sun. I had to observe the strip recorder charts, looking for a sudden drop in power. At that point I had to turn off the PSEP transmitter before the power reading reached 0 watts. The action had to be precise as the rate of power drop off was Q U E S T 19:2 39 2012

very quick, on the order of two seconds. During that critical time, the transmitter had to be turned off for the PSEP to survive the lunar night. All other ALSEP seismometers were powered by Radioactive Thermal Generators (RTGs) which, of course, did not depend on the Sun for power as did the PSEP with its solar panels. I developed a similar procedure to be followed for lunar eclipses that occurred from time to time. A lunar eclipse occurs when the Moon is darkened by Earths shadow. A lunar eclipse occurs whenever the Sun, Earth, and Moon are aligned in the same plane and the Earth is positioned between the Sun and the Moon, casting its shadow onto the surface of the Moon. Extreme changes to lunar surface temperatures occur during the lunar ellipse, albeit for a much shorter time than a lunar night (that is, hours for a lunar eclipse versus days for the lunar night). First Observations of the Moon Our first observations of the Moon were that it was very quiet, devoid of any measureable seismic activity. Seismic data would be used in analyses to determine the physical composition or the geological features of the

Dr. Gary Latham, ALSEP principal investigator in the ALSEP control room, leaning over a strip chart recorder that is recording data from the Apollo 11 passive seismic exe experiment. Credit: NASA

Moon. Something to shock the Moon would likely produce seismic data that could be used for the geological analyses. One evening around 8 PM or so, Dr. Latham made a comment to me as he surmised out loud, I wonder if I could get the AEC to put a device on the Moon. The AEC was the Atomic Energy Commission. The device he referred to was an atomic bomb. I more or less shrugged off his comment and went about my business. I went home when my shift was over and went to sleep. The very next day, the headline of almost every newspaper in the world referred to the crazy scientist in Houston wanting to explode an atomic bomb on the Moon. Of course, this idea was quickly dropped like a hot potato. A flight controller suggested to me, Why dont you ask GUIDO [the guidance officer in the MOCR] if he could crash the Saturn IVB stage into the Moon. The Saturn IVB stage was a stage of the Saturn V rocket that housed the Command Service Module and the Lunar Surface Module from launch to its ascent into orbit. After orbit insertion, the CSM would leave the Saturn

IVB, turn around, approach and connect to the Lunar Module and retract it from the Saturn IVB. After the LM was retracted, there was no more use for the large Saturn IVB stage (which was employed on later missions as Skylab), and it was programmed to go into orbit around the Sun and be lost in space forever. So I went to GUIDO and asked him to crash the Apollo 13 Saturn IVB into the Moon. He said, sure, and carried out my request. My request did not take a presidential order or approval by the United Nations or even coordination or approval with local NASA management or as far as I know, the flight director. GUIDO simply carried out my request and crashed the Apollo 13 Saturn IVB rocket into the Moon. This procedure was followed for the remainder of the Apollo missions. The Saturn IVB stage for Apollo 13, 14, 15, 16, and 17 all crashed into the Moon. The impact velocity of the Saturn IVB stages was near 5,700 miles per hour. The Saturn IVB stage weighed about 31,000 lbs at the time of impact, and the impact energy was equivalent to just over 10 tons of TNT. The ALSEP seismometer that had been deployed on the lunar surface recorded the vibrations of each of the crashes. The seismometers reported vibrations that lasted about three hours as a result of a Saturn IVB crash. I had asked GUIDO to crash the Saturn IVB stage from Apollo 13 into the Moon. Apollo 13 was on its way to the Moon, and its Saturn IVB stage was the first one to crash into the Moon. The explosion of the Apollo 13 oxygen tank occurred well after the CSM had extracted the LM and the Saturn IVBs trajectory was set to impact the Moon. There are five craters on the Moon that resulted from crashes of Saturn IVB stages of the Saturn V rockets used for the Apollo missions. My wife, Euphema, often tells her friends that I am the one who put five holes in the Moon. Each time this statement gets attention by those who hear it. Shortly after Apollo 11 PSEP operations began, a flight controller from the old days, meaning Mercury and Gemini missions, suggested to me Q U E S T 19:2 40 2012

Lunar seismic activity recorded by the Apollo 12 ALSEP passive seismic experiment. Credit: NASA

that I put out a message to the sites to let them know the status and plans for PSEP operations. He said the guys would like to know and would feel more a part of the mission if they were informed. So I crafted my first message and sent it to the people involved with the PSEP operations at the remote Deep Space Network sites around the world. I continued to do this after at the end of each shift. Little did I know that I was setting a precedent. Later at a reunion at the Johnson Spaceflight Center, I observed that the status reports to the remote sites had continued and had become institutionalized throughout the years. I also noticed that procedures I had developed had been made into professional formats for the ALSEP flight controllers to follow. PSEP Temperature above Redline One day, I received a voice message from the program office representative who was monitoring PSEP operations. He was concerned that the PSEP heater should be turned off and recommended I turn off the heater. The operating temperatures of PSEP had exceeded the planned maximum by 30C and the PSEP functioned normally. Jesse, my

A seismic reading taken from instruments at the Manned Spacecraft Center recording the impact of the Apollo 13 S-IVB/Instrument Unit with the lunar surface. The S-IVB/IU impact was picked up by the Passive Seismic Experiment (PSE), a component of the Apollo XII ALSEP, and transmitted to instruments at the Mission Control Center. Credit: NASA, Arizona State University

inexperienced systems engineer and Bernie, the older data engineer whose extra duty was to oversee us younger, inexperienced engineers, recommended I keep the heater on. All conversations could be heard by everyone listening to the loops. The program office representative became so concerned that he ordered me to turn off the PSEP heater. Now the ASE has the decision authority for operations. ASE does not report to the program office. In the case of PSEP, experiment operations had a lower priority than mainline Apollo, which deserved and received almost all of the attention. While the flight director had overall responsibility for the mission, ASE was responsible for PSEP operations. Therefore ASE coordination with the flight director was not required and was not accomplished. My decision was to be based on program office input and that from my systems engineer and data engineer. With temperatures approaching excessive, I had to quickly decide the action. The program office had instant communications with the PSEP designers. I concluded that the advice from the pro-

gram office, supported by inputs from the PSEP designers, carried more weight than from my systems engineer and data engineer, each having limited ALSEP experience. I decided to turn off the PSEP heaters and executed the command. A lengthy discussion followed between my systems engineer and data engineer and the program office. I do not remember the details, but my operational guys convinced the program office it would have been better to leave the PSEP heaters on. I believe that my systems engineer and data engineer both agreed that the temperature would not get any higher and to subject the PSEP to a configuration change at the excessive temperature would have a greater risk of failure; therefore, the best course of action would be to refrain from sending any command to the PSEP. After the discussion, I heard the program office representatives voice in my headset saying, The program office recommends that you turn the heaters back on. In essence my guys were right, and I received some minor, but negative criticism from them, like You should Q U E S T 19:2 41 2012

have left the heaters on! I had relied on the designers of the PSEP as the most knowledgeable engineers and I had already lost a PSEP during an earlier simulation by following Bernies advice to do nothing. I do not know whether or not the unnecessary extra recycling of the PSEP heaters shortened the life of PSEP, but I believe that I made the right decision to follow the advice of the knowledgeable designers and turn the heaters off without risking more critical overheating the PSEP, as the problem was discussed in detail. As it turns out, my systems engineer and data engineer had recommended the best course of action in this case as demonstrated by the program offices reversal on its strong recommendation to turn the heaters back on after their initial strong recommendation to turn the heaters off. PSEP Shutdown One night during an extraordinarily quiet shift for PSEP operations, when only two commands were sent to the PSEP during the entire 12 hours, we had a problem. Everything was working perfectly until I transmitted the last

entire world was watching every aspect of the mission that put the first men on the Moon, and I figured that my boss should be well prepared to make any statements. The following day Saultz briefed me on the decision that had been made by NASA management. I was to repeatedly send the transmitter off command to the PSEP. The frequency used by the PSEP was scheduled to be used for other applications in later Apollo missions and with the transmitter continuing to transmit, the failed PSEP transmissions would interfere with the future planned use of the frequency. It was important to turn off the transmitter. The ASE in charge of all shifts was to follow the procedure until hopefully, the PSEP transmitter turned off, and PSEP operations could be discontinued. After many commands over a period of several weeks or months, the PSEP transmitter was finally turned off, but by another ASE. However, I jokingly received the credit for breaking the PSEP. Apollo 13 I was assigned as an ASE for the Apollo 13 mission. I did not participate in Apollo 12, but I closely monitored the loops. All of our simulations for Apollo 13 had been very successful, and I was very satisfied and confident of success of ALSEP operations by my team. I slept well and went to my office in the afternoon. I observed some rather strange behavior and heard some subtle comments about an accident. I began to ask questions and quickly learned that Apollo 13 had an explosion half way to the Moon and was in serious trouble. Apollo 13 had been launched on 11 April 1970. The explosion occurred on 13 April 1970. Many folks associate the number 13 with bad luck. But to partially dispel that belief, 13 April was the best day for the catastrophe. If the explosion had been one day sooner, there would not have been enough oxygen and water onboard to sustain life for a rescue. On 14 April the two capsules would have already been separated making a rescue impossible. On 13 April, a rescue was possible and it occurred through the ingenuity of the flight controllers under the leadership of Gene Kranz, the senior flight director. I realized there would be no lunar landing or ALSEP operations. I was alarmed for the Apollo 13 crew and disappointed I would not have a chance to work on the ALSEP being carried onboard the Apollo 13 spacecraft. I went to the ALSEP SSR and began monitoring the loops at my position at the ASE console. I did not realize that history-making decisions would be made at a five- or six-foot long table located about a foot from my ASE position. Gene Kranz assembled the lead flight controllers and Astronaut Mattingly around the table. When approaching Earth, the angle of re-entry into the upper atmosphere is critical. If the angle is too steep, the spacecraft and its crew disintegrate by fire and temperatures near 3,000 degrees Fahrenheit. If the angle is too shallow, the spacecraft would ricochet off the atmosphere, much like a rock thrown across a pond at a shallow angle, and become lost in space. The onboard guidance system could no longer be used to determine the proper reentry angle and provide the information for proper alignment 2012

Crater on the lunar surface caused by the Apollo 13 Saturn IVB booster crashing into the Moon. Credit: Arizona State University / NASA

command to PSEP. I announced over the loops, On my command, 321mark! and I pressed the execute button to transmit the command. Nothing happened. There was no response. I immediately initiated the back-up procedure to have the remote site uplink the command according to my vocal step-by-step instruction to the remote site operator. The remote site operator uplinked the command to PSEP according to my instruction. A command verification word was not received from the PSEP. A command verification word was verification that PSEP had received the command. Once PSEP received a command from Earth, PSEP would verify reception of the command by transmitting an indication that it had received the right command, and it would perform the specific function dictated by the command. I quickly concluded that the problem was not an instrumentation problemit was a PSEP problem. I repeatedly transmitted the command through the remainder of my shift, hoping for a positive response that never came. I had sent the last command to the PSEP and according to the other flight controllers, as with their other jokes, I broke it! As I was repeatedly sending commands to PSEP during the remainder of my shift, I received a telephone call. ASE, this is Peter Sturdevant from ABC News. I understand that you are having a problem back there. I replied, If you want any information, you will have to speak to the public relations guys. I have no idea how ABC so quickly learned about the problem that had just been encountered. I later called my branch chief, Jim Saultz, waking him up very early to tell him that PSEP had failed and to give him time to prepare to answer questions, if necessary, to the press. The

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of the spacecraft trajectory. At the meeting, Kranz and Ken Mattingly, the guidance officer, the flight dynamics officer (FIDO), and a couple of other key flight controllers, determined a strategy for proper alignment of the spacecraft trajectory for safe re-entry. One option was to use the Earths horizon as a reference for alignment. On adjournment of the meeting, Mattingly said he would go to the simulator to simulate the reentry and left to do so. As the meeting broke up, Kranz stood up, and I also stood up and asked Gene, Do you think you will get them back? Gene replied in a steady, low-key voice with confidence, Well get them back. At that moment, I knew in my gut that he would. Gene Kranz, the Leader A few years later in a leadership class at the Air Force squadron officers school, a class assignment was to write an essay on the best leader that we had ever encountered. My choice was Gene Kranz. I had witnessed Genes leadership by monitoring the loops for Apollo 7, Apollo 8, Apollo 9, Apollo 10, and Apollo 13 and working as a flight controller for Apollo 11. Back in the office environment, I had attended many meetings with Gene and personally experienced his leadership in strategy meetings, political meetings with Marshall Space Flight Center, design of systems handbooks, conduct of simulations, development of mission rules, test procedures, etc. Gene was extremely knowledgeable about every system onboard the Apollo spacecraft and later all the systems, including the experiments of the Skylab and its interfacing modules to include the Apollo Telescope Mount (ATM) and all of its telescopes. He acted and spoke with authority and expected the same of his subordinates. If Gene Kranz asked a flight controller a question about the system on which he was working, the flight controller had better know the correct answer. I remember two meetings. The first involved review item discrepancies (RIDs). RIDs were a name used for formal documentation and

tracking of discrepancies discovered during design reviews, and testing. I had never participated in a design review at the time and did not know what a RID was. Gene Kranz, the flight control division chief, called for the Skylab RIDs. His order passed through Mel Brooks, my branch chief, to Ted White, my section chief, and from Ted to me and my counterparts. For some reason, I was looked on as the informal technical lead, although I had no title as such. So I quickly found out a very little about a RID and identified three Skylab problems. I had heard that Apollo also had three RIDs, so I went to meet with Kranz and mainline Apollo flight controllers. Now unbeknownst to me, the Apollo spacecraft had been designed, fabricated, and tested over the year and had three outstanding discrepancies. After confirming the number of RIDs with the Apollo flight controllers, Gene asked me how many RIDs I had for Skylab. I told him, three, and he hit the roof. He had been expecting a number in the hundreds since the work on Skylab for operations had just begun. He immediately dismissed the Apollo flight controllers, spoke over the intercom to his secretary telling her to cancel all his appointments for the next three days, rolled up his sleeves, and said to the remaining flight controllers that included, among others, my branch chief, Were going to write some RIDs. The next three days we discussed every Skylab system, identified problems, and wrote RIDs. I had told Gene that we did not have any Skylab data available to review, which was a fact. Following our review, Gene arranged a meeting with the Marshall Space Flight Center (MSFC) in Huntsville, Alabama, and he charted an airliner to take a plane full of flight controllers to MSFC in a show of force to wrest control of Skylab from MSFC and assume operational control for MSC. We climbed all over the full-scale Skylab mockup and witnessed astronauts in the neutral buoyancy facility performing their tasks. We met in Wernher von Brauns conference room with top MSFC manQ U E S T 19:2 43 2012

agers to work out the politics of transferring control from MSFC in Huntsville to MSC in Houston. We developed between 150 and 200 RIDs during that trip. Months later, Kranz sent out another edict instructing Skylab to give up telemetry channels that were needed for the operation for the Skylab spacecraft. Ted White, my boss, sent me to the meeting with the instruction to tell Kranz that our channels were non negotiable. This was my second run-in with Kranz in a meeting. When Gene asked me what channels he could have, I looked at him very hard, directly into his eyes, and said They are not negotiable. Genes eyes stared daggers at mine when he demanded Why not? Fortunately for me my branch chief, Mel Brooks, spoke up on my behalf and told Kranz that priorities were changing, that the operation of the spacecraft was already established and proven and that payloads, which were scientific experiments, were the basic reasons for the development of space vehicles, needed the telemetry channels for real time monitoring and control. This discussion of philosophy was above my head, but in the end I did not have to give up any of the scientific telemetry channels. Kranz had listened to and realized the importance of what Brooks had argued. I felt that I had escaped with my life from a harsh admonishment that I had expected following my encounter with Gene Kranz. Gene was respected, and he was tough. But he had a human side as well. One time we had a father-son softball game. I took Robert, my son who eight or nine years old at the time. I was the pitcher. Robert hit one of my pitches, bouncing the ball directly to me. I got the ball and ran slowly to first base and softly threw the ball to the first baseman, putting my son out. Gene and some others really got onto my case for that. Looking back, I should have let him get on first base, but I guess I was too competitive and merciless. Another incident years later really touched me. Gene was being interviewed by a major network, reflecting about the Apollo 13 mission. His memories were so vivid of

Apollo 13 that in the interview he got a little emotional. This proved that Gene Kranz was human after all. He had led the charge and because of him, the three Apollo 13 astronauts were rescued. They did not perish. I believe that almost every mission to the Moon had a critical problem. After several unmanned flights to work out problems that may have been caused by spacecraft modifications, Apollo 7, the first manned mission after the Apollo 1 fire, finally launched. I had recently arrived at MSC and went to the Mission Control Center to listen to the loops. As soon as the Saturn V rocket cleared the launch tower, control was transferred from Cape Kennedy in Florida, to MSC in Houston. At the moment the control was transferred to Houston, the power went out in the MOCR. The visual images on the TV monitors used by the flight controllers tumbled, and each flight controller was immediately looking at a Duz soap commercial for a TV program showing a soap opera. Gene Kranzs voice could be heard over the loops, OK, team. Theres nothing we can do at the moment. The spacecraft is continuing to fly and its systems will keep it on course. As soon as we get data back, we can assess the systems and go from there. I remember Genes voice having a settling effect with all the flight controllers. Data came back, and the operations returned to normal without further incident. Other significant activities I accomplished as a NASA flight controller included the development of System Handbooks for Skylab; developing and reviewing specifications for Skylab operations; and assisting Bob Holkan, my section head at a later time, in developing the operational concept for Skylab ground facilities. The lunar rover was an electric vehicle carried to the Moon on later Apollo missions. One day John Cooper, who was responsible for tracking the astronauts position on the Moon, could not determine how far the lunar rover could travel from the Lunar Module and asked me for help. I spent about four hours developing the equations that pro-

vided an approximate answer to his question. This analysis was performed before Apollo 11 but the surface composition was not yet known (for example rocky, sandy, etc.). The soil composition would have an effect. It is easier for a car to travel on a paved road as opposed to driving on a sandy beach. I developed the equations and gave him a range of answers, depending on the soil type to be discovered after the first lunar landing. Later I learned the answers from my back of the envelope calculations were used for all the lunar rover missions. (Unfortunately, John Cooper, a very bright and personable flight controller, rescue pilot in the Coast Guard Reserves, and explorer, was killed in a South American mountain climbing accident in an attempt to get help for his mountain climbing companion who had broken her leg). I would have stayed at Houston forever if allowed, but the agreement between the Air Force and NASA had been terminated at the time that my two years plus an extension of one year were served. I tried to extend my special category Air Force assignment at NASA, but the program had been canceled (though later reinstituted). I left MSC in the summer of 1971 and went to Eglin Air Force Base, Florida, where I was assigned as a developmental engineer for Air Force weapon systems, including some very interesting projects. NASA flight controllers for Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo worked hard and many of us played hard. In the 60s and 70s, happy hours were a popular way to let off steam. There was a lot of drinking and carousing in the aerospace industry. After each Apollo mission were the popular splash down parties. Military officers clubs and NCO clubs had happy hours. Ellington Air Force Base next to MSC was no exception. The clubs were packed with professionals and gorgeous ladies in party dresses enjoying the evening. Air Force fighter pilots were the elite and could do no wrong. NASA flight controllers were the elite of the ground crew with prestige second to the astronauts. Being a NASA flight controller exposed me to the good life. We had a missiona purQ U E S T 19:2 44 2012

poseand national goal with great support across the country no matter where we went. And we had fun. I was fortunate to have had the opportunity be on the lunar landing team for Apollo 11 and being closely associated with the historical rescue mission of Apollo 13 and to work under Gene Kranz, the best leader that I have ever known. Gene pulled it together and made it happen. Epilogue Years later, my oldest son, Robert, had finished college as a chemical engineer and had a scholarship at the University of Houston graduate school. He had just married, and quickly discovered that his income for the scholarship was not enough for his living expenses. When I realized this, I called my old boss, Bob Holkan. Bob agreed to help. Robert told me later that he did not even need his rsum. He got the job and has done very well in his career as a contractor working on NASA and Department of Defense programs. About the Author Cecil N. Bassham retired after 55 years of service on Department of Defense and NASA programs. He served just over 20 years in the United States Air Force. He finished his Air Force career at Eglin AFB, Florida, where he retired as a Captain. The remainder of his aerospace career was with a number of DoD contractors until July 2010 when he finally retired. He plans to write other magazine articles and books based on his other significant experiences. Note
* There are 12 Earth days and nights between Lunar noon and Lunar midnight. There are approximately four to five Earth days in the lunar cycle when the Moon cannot be seen. During this time, the temperature of the Moons surface reaches an extreme of approximately -150 degrees Fahrenheit, much lower than military specifications for military ruggedized equipment.