Wally Funk's Race for Space

by Sue Nelson

  ‘I was so excited. I’d seen her months before, and just knowing she was up in the vehicle in her seat. When they blasted off I said: “Go Eileen, go for all of us …” We were all crying. It was wonderful she got the chance to go up.’

  She recalled being taken aside for TV interviews. ‘They seemed to just want me. I don’t know why that was …’ I knew exactly why. ‘I think I sought Eileen out before anyone else did. We became friends.’

  Recalling Truhill’s unflattering description of Wally in 1997 as being overbearing, I asked what she thought of the other six members of the Mercury 13 when she met them for the first time at Collins’s launch. ‘They were nice,’ she said, ‘although I thought Jerri Truhill was a little overbearing.’

  In the main museum hall, I called Wally over to a piece of black shiny rock. It had been brought back from the edge of the Sea of Serenity by the Apollo 17 mission in December 1972. It was 3.8 billion years old.

  ‘Hey, Wally. I’m touching the Moon. Come and touch the Moon. It’s really smooth.’

  She cackled. ‘You gonna bring it home?’

  ‘No, they’ve glued it down.’

  When we met up again, Wally was sat in a replica of a Space Shuttle cockpit. ‘Here’s where Eileen sits. That is so great. They got the rudder and joy sticks, just like airplanes … all the hydraulics. Wow, look at all the buttons up here. Certain buttons do certain things that I’m not smart enough to know. With all that heavy suit on, you wouldn’t think they’d fit in here.’

  I had been thinking the same. ‘You can see why they’d think being a woman might be an advantage, being generally smaller.’

  ‘Affirmative.’

  In the next room we encountered an unexpected sight. There, hanging from the ceiling against a backdrop of night sky and stars, was a genuine Mercury capsule, on loan from the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC. All the Mercury capsules’ names contained the number 7, because there were seven mercury astronauts. This one was Faith 7.

  ‘I was going to go up in that if my time ever came,’ she sighed.

  Due to their small size, the Mercury spacecraft were all called capsules. ‘It was a one-man cockpit,’ Wally declared. After peering into Faith 7’s cockpit from behind the barrier, she slammed her hand on the rail in delight. ‘It’s got round dials!’

  ‘1960s technology.’

  ‘They didn’t have to have any rudders either. This is so nice to see. Who would have thought?’

  ‘You could get in there,’ I joked.

  ‘I’ve tried in many museums,’ Wally replied seriously, ‘but they wouldn’t let me.’

  She continued to examine the control panel. ‘The left hand is probably on a thruster of some sort. Wow. What a neat panel. So easy to read.’

  ‘So you would have no problem flying this?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t have thought so.’

  A museum sign related that astronaut Gordon Cooper had flown this particular Mercury capsule on 15–16 May 1963. ‘Gordo,’ she acknowledged. ‘Glad I got to meet him.’

  She read the rest of the signage out-loud. ‘Faith 7 – around the Earth 22 times in 34 hours, 19 minutes and 49 seconds. WOW. That is so incredible.’

  ‘When you met him, did he know what you’d done?’

  ‘Yes. He had written a book, Into That Silent Sea, that is only about the Mercury guys, and there’s a chapter: “Wally and Wally.” Wally Schirra and Wally Funk’.

  Schirra was one of the original Mercury 7 astronauts. ‘He did an excellent job. He was just very gracious, very wonderful, and said, “I wish you could have made it” and what a great time he’d had.’

  Wally gazed at the Mercury capsule. ‘And now being here and seeing this, against the stars, makes me feel like I want to jump in it and go. You couldn’t have picked a better one for us to see.’

  As it happens, although she met Cooper, he did not write that book. The authors were Francis French and Colin Burgess. There was a copy in the gift shop on the way out. ‘My goodness, all the books they have!,’ Wally exclaimed, and began reading out the titles: ‘Stages to Saturn, the Man on the Moon, The Countdown, Moon Launch, Before this Decade is Out, The First Man on the Moon The Last Man on the Moon, Rocket Men, Apollo 13 …’

  ‘What about the women?’

  ‘I don’t see any. There are no books here on the Mercury 13,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that interesting? It’s all about the guys.’

  Even though I have visited NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston before, it remained a thrill to pull up outside Mission Control, also known as Building 30 or, as it’s been known since 2011, the Christopher C. Kraft Jr. Mission Control Center. It was named after America’s first flight director, Dr Chris Kraft, one of the original members of the Space Task Group for Project Mercury and flight director for the Mercury missions.

  Kraft was a smart, visionary, disciplined and pure NASA alpha male during the glorious era of the Apollo missions, and later Skylab and the Apollo-Soyuz test programme. Like many of those in the control room during the 1960s, he wore a suit, white shirt and black glasses. Unlike the rest of the team, there was no doubt that Kraft was in total control, after having led and implemented the rules, operations and contingency plans required for a space mission. In Kraft’s heyday, flight director was undoubtedly a man’s job, and he had a formidable reputation. When I’d met him at his home in Houston in 1997, he’d been retired from NASA for fifteen years after spending a decade as director of the NASA Johnson Space Center. But it was clear, even then, that you’d think twice about questioning or disobeying this man.

  Kraft was not involved in the selection of America’s first astronauts, but he was unapologetic about the fact that NASA selected men and did not open up opportunities to women. ‘The qualifications were very straightforward, and very simply stated that we wanted men or women who had flown in high-performance airplanes who, frankly, were willing or had put their lives on the line in these kinds of planes on a continuous basis, so that the fear of the new environment that we were going to put them in would not be something that they had to deal with. It would be natural to them,’ he said.

  ‘The requirement that they had a certain number of hours in a high-performance airplane eliminated any women at that time, because there weren’t any women in this country who had that qualification. They just simply didn’t meet the qualifications. Frankly, I don’t know whether we were right or wrong at the time. The men we chose and the men we flew were excellent pilots, and they all did a fine job.’

  Later in the interview, however, he singled out Scott Carpenter as one of the Mercury 7 astronauts who had not, in his opinion, done ‘a fine job’.

  ‘Carpenter did not have a test pilot’s training and, to be perfectly blunt about it, he shouldn’t have flown in space. But he got there, and fortunately he lived.’ There was an angry pause before his final words emerged, almost as a growl, through gritted teeth. ‘Damned fortunate.’

  The Mercury 13 women who had wanted to be considered, I suggested, would be disappointed to hear that one of the men wasn’t up to the job. Kraft’s judgement about the women’s Russian counterpart, Valentina Tereshkova, was harsh: ‘Their first woman was an absolute basket case when she was in orbit, and they were damned lucky to get her back. She was nothing but hysterical while she flew. How do you know we wouldn’t have gotten into that situation as well?’

  Rumours undermining Tereshkova’s achievements had continued for several decades. Many of them were from Soviet scientists who reported that Tereshkova had had last-minute nerves and that she vomited in space – as if that was a sign of weakness, even though it is commonplace for astronauts to be space-sick. Hysteria, the word that the Soviet space scientists had used, is also a commonly used term for denigrating women. If sexism within the United States was endemic in the early 1960s, Russia was no better, either then or later.

  The woman, who was often disregarded as a parachutist by some, had graduated from the Zhukovsky Air Force Acad
emy as a cosmonaut engineer in 1969. Seven years later, after a doctorate in engineering, the former factory worker became Professor Tereshkova. Despite this, Tereshkova’s earlier lack of qualifications was always quoted in space history, rather than her later academic achievements. It wasn’t until 2004 that a true insight into Tereshkova’s conduct was revealed. She had noticed on entering orbit that her spacecraft, Vostok 6, was pointing in the wrong direction. There had been an error in Vostok 6’s automatic orientation system. She had been instructed on returning to Earth to fire the retrorockets. Facing the wrong way, this would have meant being propelled into a higher orbit instead. The result would have been the world’s first – and dead – female astronaut, orbiting the Earth until her slow demise from starvation. She informed ground control and, when her prognosis had been confirmed, they sent new commands to correct the problem. Her clear-headed actions were not exactly those of a ‘basket case’.

  Years later, I heard Tereshkova speak about this near-death experience in person. She was at London’s Science Museum in September 2015 for the opening of their Cosmonauts exhibition. Tereshkova’s spacecraft, Vostok 6, was one of the exhibits. She had, it transpired, not wanted the engineer responsible for the error to be punished. So she had kept it a secret. For thirty years. ‘Cosmonauts can keep their word like men and women,’ she said, ‘particularly women.’ Tereshkova also revealed that the ground crew had forgotten to pack her toothbrush. When I asked if she was disappointed about the nineteen-year gap after her flight and that so few female cosmonauts had flown into space since, Tereshkova responded: ‘I think the attitude to women will change.’ She then addressed the Russian dignitaries on the front row of the audience with a pointed and feisty, ‘Do you hear me?’

  I mentioned to Kraft the quote that Truhill had brought up – ‘I’d rather send a monkey into space than a bunch of women’ – allegedly said by him. He had no knowledge of it, but was prepared to comment. ‘The feminist movement had not happened yet, and although Ms Cochran made some noise about not being selected and not even being considered, that was a nit as far as the public aspects of the programme were concerned, so that thinking at the time wouldn’t have even been considered.’

  He admitted that, in light of the world now being politically correct, in a later era women would have been selected. ‘Women would be trained to be [jet] pilots because the PC situation has demanded that that happen and I think they would have done very well. Then again, I think it would have been a burden on us in the Mercury programme.’ He mentioned urination as one reason – I’d written ‘urination?’ which means I must have thought his explanation ridiculous. But my transcription ended there, because what he said next must not have been usable for the radio programme. Even so, it was a glimpse into what it must have been like trying to forge a career in an era when men and women both were desperately trying to rise above the expectations and perceived limitations of their sex.

  Nineteen years after that interview, Wally and I were meeting one of NASA’s newest flight directors, Mary Lawrence – the thirteenth female flight director to qualify at NASA and one of six women currently active in the position. We were in a viewing area above a control room. Its consoles were empty and without operators, because it was being upgraded. Just a few weeks earlier, it had been in action as a control centre for the International Space Station. Once the work was completed, that role would continue again.

  This was to be Wally’s first ever interview as a reporter. She was great at being interviewed, but asking the questions required a different skillset. Questions must not lead to ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, other than ‘Did you murder your wife?’ Interviewers must listen and mentally reorder future questions if an earlier answer includes a response to a later question. Interviewers must also clarify answers that are complicated or assume too much prior knowledge. It was a big ask for a first-time presenter. Wally glanced down at her questions and immediately went off script. ‘You get to talk to some of the astronauts?’

  Lawrence was an engineer. Good school teachers had influenced her decision to study maths, science and engineering. The film Apollo 13 had inspired her to work for NASA. It showcased the incredible job that Kraft and his team had done in 1970 to enable the safe return of three astronauts from their damaged spacecraft after it encountered ‘a problem’. After we got back on track, Lawrence outlined her career path to flight director.

  ‘First I became a flight controller, studying how systems work and undergoing a series of simulations where you’re dealing with malfunctions and normal operations. Once you make it through that training, you get to sit in this room and gain years of experience. I was lucky to be flight controller during the assembly phase of the space station, so spent a lot of time building technical knowledge.’

  Lawrence expanded that knowledge further as a flight director, learning what the crew would need to do in an emergency as well as the ground team’s role in supporting them. The training used control room mock-ups and ran through scenarios such as a fire in a module.

  Wally’s response was pure Bogart. ‘Wow, that’s a plateful for you, kiddo.’

  Lawrence explained the layout through the glass window below. ‘Each console is built of a bank of computers showing data or telemetry coming from the Space Station,’ said Lawrence. ‘It’s manned by one flight controller who reports to the flight director who makes any of the final decisions for operations.’ The consoles are dedicated to different ISS systems. ‘Communications systems, attitude control systems – so we have control moment gyros on the station that keep us in attitude (orientation) and flying straight; power systems, thermal systems …’ Wally’s eyes widened.

  ‘We have people that manage the timelines and day-to-day activities of the crew. Of course we have the Capcom console that talks directly with the crew and several others that make up an entire team of people to keep this thing flying. And this is just the Houston team,’ Lawrence added. ‘There are teams in Europe, Russia and Japan covering their systems to drive their particular modules, but we’re all united in the same mission.’

  Cameras are permanently pointed at the astronauts and Earth. ‘We see it as they see it 250 miles above,’ Lawrence said.

  ‘Do you want to go up? You’ve got to make that happen.’

  Her home, Lawrence insisted, was in mission operations on the ground. ‘I’ve actually fallen in love with the work I’m doing here and am happy supporting and making sure astronauts are safe, and doing that as part of a team.’

  ‘You’re very humble,’ Wally responded. ‘For me, I’d wind up there in a heartbeat.’

  When asked about how she felt at being an inspiration in such a visible role, Lawrence’s answer was unexpected. ‘I’m proud to be a woman as part of the flight director office in a leadership role. I’m also a mom, so I’m demonstrating it is possible to do it all. That’s one of those things close to my heart. You can raise small children but also have a successful career in whatever you want to do.’

  If they’d heard Lawrence, the members of the Mercury 13 who had children themselves would no doubt have cheered. When Wally asked about the future, Lawrence didn’t hesitate. ‘As far as NASA goes, everyone dreams about a human mission to Mars, so I feel people who are here now are the foundation. Don’t know if I’m going to be here, but know I’ll be part of that because of the work that we’re doing today.’

  Unlike the rest of her interview, this was a rote answer. It was NASA’s focus at the time. Mars, Mars, Mars. And if there’s one thing NASA PR does well, it is ensuring that everyone reads from the same script. Personally, I doubted NASA would reach its stated goals within their intended timeframe. Returning to the Moon seemed a more achievable goal, and one to build on, in terms of learning how to live off-planet with the available resources and survive the radiation. After a change of president, that would indeed happen.

  Andy Weir’s science fiction novel, The Martian, self-published in 2011 and re-released in 2014, resulted in an eq
ually popular film in 2015. Most of the content was rooted in solid science and engineering – the only real flight of fancy was allowing the stranded astronaut to survive for so long. In reality, the radiation on Mars is unforgiving, with a thinner atmosphere than Earth and no protective magnetosphere (the area of space around our planet that is controlled by its magnetic field).

  The Mars rover, Curiosity, has a radiation assessment detector, and while a ‘short’ long-term mission was possible, even the 180-day outward journey would expose an astronaut to radiation the equivalent of twenty-four CAT scans – fifteen times the annual limit for someone who works in a nuclear power plant. Assuming 500 days on the surface, followed by the 180 day return journey, an astronaut would just exceed a lifetime limit of 1.01 sieverts. This is associated with a 5 per cent increase in the chance of contracting a fatal cancer.

  Theoretically, one of NASA’s class of 2013, then their most recent astronaut selection intake, could make history. ‘They will be the youngest and the closest to go to Mars,’ said Lawrence. For the first time, the astronaut candidates contained a 50:50 split of men and women, the highest percentage of women in the space agency’s history. The first footprint on Mars could be from a woman’s boot. A lot more had to be done, however, to make that happen. The most powerful rocket ever built, NASA’s new Space Launch System (SLS), was still in a test phase, with the eventual aim of exploring deep space, launching its Orion spacecraft and taking a crewed mission to Mars. Meanwhile, with the Space Shuttle retired and commercial companies racing to fill the gap, the Russian Soyuz rocket and capsule remained the only way for astronauts to travel and return from the International Space Station. But whereas the Shuttle glided like a plane onto the runway, the Soyuz capsule returns via parachute onto the ground and makes a notoriously hard landing. NASA astronaut Tracy Caldwell Dyson had heard it described as ‘a train wreck followed by a car crash followed by falling off your bike’ before she returned to Earth in 2010, after six months on the Space Station.