They Were All Teachers
Aero-Views OPINION by ANN Associate Editor Rob Finfrock
On the morning of January 28, 1986, I was home sick from the
fifth grade. I awoke to the sound of my clock radio at exactly
11:20 am, Iowa time.
The station I had my clock radio set to -- Sweet 98, out of
Omaha -- wasn't playing its normal rotation of Madonna and Huey
Lewis. Instead, a news reporter was speaking in solemn tones. It
took me a moment to realize what he was talking about.
"Repeating... less than an hour ago... we lost Challenger."
I sat in my bed, dazed. After a few seconds -- still a little
woozy -- I rushed into the den, where my mom was napping. The
television was off. She didn't know yet. "Mom... Challenger blew
up," I said, shaking her awake.
She bolted upright with a start as I turned on the TV. For the
rest of that day, we watched.
Twenty years later, I
still can't believe it. Like it was for many in my generation, the
loss of Challenger was the first "where were you when?" moment in
my life. I'll never forget the chill that went down my spine...
especially since I still feel it, every time I see the image of
that cruel "Y" formed by the explosion of the external fuel tank,
and the trails of the two errant SRBs spiraling away from the
fallen orbiter.
Seven astronauts -- mission commander Francis R. Scobee, pilot
Michael J. Smith, mission specialists Ronald E. McNair, Ellison S.
Onizuka, and Judith A. Resnik, and payload specialists Gregory B.
Jarvis and Christa McAuliffe -- died in the explosion.
It was the day I first learned that, yes, the sky can fall.
In the days that followed, news reports focused on NASA's
efforts to figure out what went wrong. Across America, people who
had perhaps only given cursory notice to the mission -- highlighted
only by the presence of civilian McAuliffe, who was to have been
the first teacher in space -- learned of the many delays the
Challenger launch had faced. Liftoff of mission 51-L was initially
scheduled for January 22, but a series of delays ranging from
missed deadlines, to bad weather, to a stuck equipment hatch all
conspired to bump the launch six days.
By the morning of January 28, everyone at NASA -- ground
controllers, administrators, and the astronauts themselves --
wanted to get the launch over with.
In the aftermath of the tragedy, many speculated that rush to
get the orbiter in space led NASA to ignore several safety
precautions. Investigators soon focused on a telltale wisp of
flame, seen on cameras in the seconds after the launch, emanating
from an O-ring seal in the shuttle's right solid rocket
booster.
Accusations flew.
Engineers at Morton Thiokol, the company that manufactured the
SRBs, claimed they had told NASA cold temperatures -- it was
near freezing on the morning of Challenger's launch -- could cause
the O-rings to fail to seal properly, allowing exhaust gases to
escape.
A commission formed to determine a cause of the accident --
headed by former secretary of state William Rogers, and including
Neil Armstrong and Chuck Yeager -- found that was exactly what
caused Challenger to fall from the sky.
After a series of design changes and NASA shakeups, the shuttle
Discovery flew the first post-Challenger mission on September 28,
1988, in a triumphant return to space. Like many across the nation,
I crossed my fingers and prayed through the first 73 seconds of
that flight as I watched it on television. The tension only eased,
somewhat, after the fateful "go with throttle up" command -- which
had immediately preceded the Challenger explosion -- passed without
incident for Discovery.
For the next 13 years, the shuttle program continued to perform
much as advertised -- and once again, it largely escaped the notice
of the American public. The launches never happened as often as was
originally promised by NASA, but they did occur frequently enough
that a shuttle launch wasn't necessarily a noteworthy event.
Yes, news channels covered shuttle launches and landings -- but
they did it with far less attention given to them, than was given
to freeway chases.
Such was the routine... until another cold winter morning, in
February 2002, that once again jolted America -- and NASA -- out of
its shuttle slumber. As images of Columbia's fiery death over the
skies of the southwestern United States were broadcast on endless
loop that Saturday, people were suddenly asking what lessons NASA
hadn't learned in the Challenger loss, and why seven more
astronauts had to die for it.
Whereas I remember confidence in NASA back in 1988, I'm not sure
NASA can answer that question this time around. Yes, Discovery flew
last year -- the orbiter is NASA's proverbial Phoenix -- but it was
then grounded, again, after it was shown the foam loss that doomed
Columbia still plagued the program. The shuttle is supposed to fly
again this summer... and once again, fingers will be crossed.
Maybe the foam problem is finally solved... but what others lurk
around the corner, that may show themselves in the next four years
before the shuttles are finally retired?
***
As our regular readers
know, we tend to hold NASA's feet to the fire here at Aero-News.
This isn't for the reason some of our more cynical readers might
think. If anything, it's because we remember the golden days of the
space program. Some of us were around for Apollo 11, if not Mercury
or even Gemini (at least, we won't admit it.) We've seen what NASA
can do at its finest hours, and the agency has had many.
We've seen it recently, as well: see Stardust, and New
Horizons... efforts the staff at Aero-News followed religiously,
and applauded.
Nor do we consciously berate NASA because we are emphatic
supporters of private spaceflight. While we DO believe the future
of aerospace will rely increasingly on private efforts -- a lesson
NASA is learning, as well, with its Centennial Challenge -- we also
believe, above all, that competition improves the breed.
Had NASA focused its efforts ten years ago on a concept similar
to Rutan's SpaceShipOne... with the vast network of suppliers and
resources available to a government entity... where might the space
program be today? It's an interesting, completely hypothetical,
question.
It's easy to forget that NASA isn't just another faceless
government entity; it is made up of thousands of people, many who
today work diligently to solve the problems presented to them by a
25-year-old space vehicle that, some would argue, was obsolete
before it ever flew. No one would envy them their task.
But it's their job to perform it... because NASA alone currently
holds the key to America's future in the stars. In the cases of
Challenger and Columbia, lack of attention to detail doomed
fourteen astronauts and two shuttles. It cannot happen again.
That is the lesson that NASA should reflect upon today.