Gene Kranz was the lead Flight Director for this flight. And so we came to launch day on the Gemini 9 mission, and on April 17, 1966, the Atlas Agena was launched first as a target vehicle and ended up in the Atlantic right off the coast of Florida. Because of the failure of the target vehicle last fall, a back-up stage was conceived and implemented as an alternative to the Agena stage. It was called an augmented target and docking adapter (ATDA). It was put on top of another Atlas and launched on June 1, 1966. The Gemini spacecraft was planned to follow one revolution, about ninety minutes later, but it was scrubbed when ground equipment failed to properly load the azimuth signal for the guidance computer. Quickly, this was resolved and Gemini 9 went into orbit on June 3, 1966.
Gemini 9 “Angry Alligator”
In the meantime, the Agena systems flight controllers had been observing high fuel usage on the ATDA stage since it got on-orbit. There was also no confirming telemetry signal indicating shroud separation. This set off some rapid response in trying to understand the shroud a lot better than we did. Some astronauts on travel on the West Coast (McDivitt and Scott) went by the factory and looked at flight hardware first hand. After review at the Cape, the launch crew reported the most likely cause of the hangup as a configuration error in attaching a lanyard. This explanation still left us with a dangerous condition.
The rendezvous went like clockwork and more of the new trench operators got to try their skills at orchestrating this new technique (Ed Pavelka and Bill Gravett). Tom Stafford had just flown GT-6 and the GT-9 sequence went smooth as glass. When the crew was station keeping, they reported that the shroud covering the docking system on one end of the ATDA was not fully deployed. It appeared to be still held together by the metal band and the partial opening made it look to Tom Stafford like an “angry alligator.” And the name stuck. Commands were sent to cause vehicle motions in an attempt to free the shroud. As expected, that did not improve the situation. We were left with an incomplete opening and two halves of a shroud with some amount of stored spring energy still sitting there.
Instead of the planned docking, we waved off and did a separation maneuver to buy a little time. This maneuver was designed to create an equi-period Gemini orbit that would return to the ATDA in one revolution. When the crew returned, there were no changes or any new ideas. “Don’t intervene if you don’t know what to do” was a guiding principle that had served us well over the years. And we stuck to it.
There had been another planned re-rendezvous scheduled for this mission to simulate a lunar module abort scenario. We decided to embark on that exercise at this point because we could not dock and to continue station keeping just expends fuel. That would also give us time to consider what if anything to do next. In MCC, we were opposed to going any further with crew EVA actions to attempt release of the shroud. But, we now had time if anybody came up with a different and workable idea. Assuming there would not be any such breakthrough, the crew could then get a solid sleep period before the demanding umbilical EVA to operate the AMU on the next flight day.
All was under control, until I was summoned to a special management meeting. On arrival, there was ongoing discussion about how to do an EVA to free the shroud. Most of the management of MSC was there: Dr. Gilruth, Chris, Deke and Chuck Mathews, the MSC Gemini program manager, and George Mueller, the Associate Administrator of manned flight and other NASA HQ people. Buzz was presenting and I wondered if this was his idea. Dr. Gilruth had been cross-examining Buzz and was negative on what he was hearing. The idea of trying to “do something” to release the shroud took on an air of unreality. We had been through this with the MCC teams and it was unanimous that the risks outweighed the gains by a clear margin: lack of EVA experience, lack of a real approach to fix the problem, and not the right balance of risk-reward. Long discussion and a good summary by Gene Kranz on the shroud and mechanisms did not seem to register. There was a sense of being enamored with the idea of successfully “doing something” on the part of some people there, especially those from HQ and two parties from MSC, Buzz and Chuck Mathews, the MSC program manager. Chuck spoke in favor of doing an EVA to fix the problem and there were no more objections voiced - Gene’s was already noted. I learned later that Chris and Dr. Gilruth felt that it was so obvious that this was a bad idea that it would be refused by the crew (or MCC team) later. It still seemed to me like an idea worthy of a resounding “Hell no” right up front.
My observation was: in decades of dealing with flight problems before and long after GT-9, this stood out as a bad idea deserving of firm rejection. Maybe, there was something else at work that we operators were not aware of. There was an easy way to handle that by just telling us. But we never learned of extenuating circumstances. Nevertheless, it goes down as an anomaly in our flight decision-making history.
There was an undercurrent of another ongoing dispute. We had a history of HQ attempts to inject themselves into operational decisions, at least the “big” ones. In early Gemini, HQ sent us a person (can’t remember his name), new to all of us and to this business, to make the “big” decisions in MCC. On his first countdown, Chris and the LV test conductor scrubbed the launch for good reason. But this fellow considered it his prerogative. His only problem was that he could not enter the discussion because he did not know how to work his intercom. Some boss. Later in that day, I inadvertently walked into a conference room, deserted except for Chris and this guy. In the silence, I could immediately feel that the temperature in the room was in the thirties. Chris was in one of his towering angries. I turned right around, left and never saw that guy again.
To tie this “compulsion-to-intervene” and the EVA decision on GT-9 into a package, I noticed later (by GT-10) that there was a pronounced change in attitude about the role of the HQ Mission Director. From then on, their only request was that we inform them of any change in plans so that they could keep HQ appraised. No harm, perfectly fair. No one talked to us about this shift to a more sensible role by HQ and it took a while to believe that it was real. But, it is easy to imagine their horror when they realized that they almost made a colossal mistake in over ruling MCC and ordering this decision on the Gemini 9 EVA. (There could not have been more dramatic evidence of what a bad decision it was than the results of the upcoming planned EVA within twenty-four hours.) They apparently and wisely decided to stay out of operational decisions and to support the flight team in the future. To their credit, they did.
Some of this urge to assert derived from the fact there were many people in our industry who participated in space hardware development programs and it is somewhat natural to assume that one’s experience applies to this new field of space operations. However, it did not. I have tried to convey the time and effort spent on mission rules (our code of ethics for risk/reward decisions), flight techniques, simulations, actual operations and years of immersion. These are the prerequisite experiences, much more so than design.
While this management dispute played out, Tom and Gene in Gemini 9 were doing the re-rendezvous to test the approach by the chase vehicle from a position above the target. In this approach, the crew is approaching the target from above and the features of the earth below are behind the target vehicle. The combination of ocean and desert background made it difficult to have a good continuous visual of the target vehicle during the whole time. Nevertheless, it was successful and the crew flew up close to the ATDA, within inches, and took more photos. By that time, the crew had been up a long time with the intensity required for three rendezvous sequences and Tom requested that any EVA to work on the shroud be postponed to the next day because of crew fatigue. This was essentially a “No-Go” for the shroud EVA because we did not have the fuel to park and re-rendezvous again. We were delighted with Tom’s assessment and agreed.
On the next flight day for the planned EVA, preps were nominal and the hatch opened at 49:22 elapsed time. The crew reported difficulty with the umbilical, much stiffer now as it was pressurized. This was followed by almost two hours of scary rep
orts from our friends in Gemini 9. On the trip to the rear of the Gemini spacecraft where the AMU was located, Gene reported serious fogging on his visor. When he arrived at the AMU station, he reported that any work took four to five times the effort he expended in training. Gene had difficulty deploying the arms on the AMU and began to rest periodically to attempt to clear up the visor fogging. Only marginal improvement in vision resulted. This was becoming very serious and we could not do anything to really help. Tom, the decision maker on the spot, called off this excursion. Gene wrestled his way back into the cockpit. He and Tom got the umbilical pulled in and closed the hatch in a little short of two hours. It wasn’t until post-flight that suit inspection revealed a tear in several layers of Gene’s suit, caused by contact with an antenna. That’s closer than anybody wants to get. And another good call by the Commander. Gemini 9 landed and we truly celebrated their return.
And soon, Gemini 10 readied for launch on July 18, 1966. John Young and Mike Collins were the crew. The objectives were: to rendezvous and dock with Agena 10, to use the docked Agena 10 and Gemini 10 to rendezvous with the Agena 8 stage, to conduct EVA operations, to conduct docking practices and experiments. This was a fairly complex flight schedule, as demonstrated by having three vehicles lined up in the same plane, after orbital insertion. Gemini 10 was trailing the Agena 10 by 850 miles and leading the Agena 8 vehicle by five hundred miles. Rendezvous choreography had advanced to three active vehicles being managed in earth orbit. I was the lead Flight Director.
Because of the number of maneuvers, spacecraft fuel was a critical resource and Tom Holloway, the flight activities officer (FAO), developed a clever set of mission options whose choice depended on the level of Gemini fuel remaining at various mission points. Often, this type of “what if” analysis is not used, but it was a lifesaver on Gemini 10. During the initial terminal phase of the Gemini-Agena 10 rendezvous, there was a surprisingly high level of Gemini fuel usage due to deviations in the braking phase. This triggered a major mission change, which had been carefully thought out and extensively discussed in finalizing Tom’s contingency planning set of options. It was easy to decide to select the option to remain docked to the Agena 10 stage for an extended time of about thirty-nine hours. In this option, the necessary maneuvers for rendezvousing with the Agena 8 were made with the propulsion of the Agena 10 docked vehicle.
Once at the Agena 8 stage, the crew had already undocked from Agena 10 and initiated preparations for the second EVA that was an umbilical based excursion by Mike Collins to retrieve an equipment package mounted on the Agena 8. The EVA was limited to forty minutes (one daylight pass) because of the need to conserve fuel and not spend any more on station keeping with the Agena 8. It went okay, but the sample package slipped away on Mike Collin’s return to the hatch. The Trench team was the same one as GT-9 and they were getting very good at this rendezvous game.
Because of the complex set of mission options that Tom Holloway developed and coordinated with the rest of the team, his contribution and understanding were seen as vital to the execution of the flight. Therefore, I had decided preflight to move Tom Holloway into the front room of MCC, and it was the first time we ever had a FAO serving on console in the front room of MCC. (And, it has remained that way ever since.)
We had spent time over several months perfecting this set of mission options and I wanted Tommy’s expertise available to the Flight Director and his team. That caused some problem in the Astronaut corps, because the checklist and flight plan activities had been located in a back room and in direct support of the cap com. This was an organizational accident of sorts due to the fact that the astronauts and the FAO people worked in Deke’s flight crew directorate, which was parallel to Chris Kraft’s flight operations directorate. Two of our astronauts complained to Chris Kraft that this move of the FAO to the front room was a bad idea. Chris referred their complaint to Cliff and me. We were exceedingly ticked that they had gone to Chris directly without asking us for the rationale. Cliff and I went to see them in their office and after some discussion, the conclusions were: yes, the FAO position belongs in the front room reporting to the Flight Director and if they had any other problems, they would take them up with us first.
Cliff was the lead Flight Director for Gemini 11, and it flew on September 12, 1966, with Pete Conrad and Dick Gordon. Cliff was lead and I was in support. In this context, the “lead” role mostly affected pre-flight choices. The “lead” was the primary interface for coordination with the crew, mostly on scheduling activities and selected subjects. He also selected the rest of the Flight Directors and made their assignments as to mission phases covered. In this case it was easy, Cliff did the prime crew wake shift and I did some of that and all the rest. The Trench team carried over from Gemini 9 and 10.
Bill Tindall had been stretching the team to even more of a rendezvous challenge. One lunar rendezvous scenario envisioned an accelerated sequence with station keeping at the first apogee, or in about one-half of an orbit. So we needed to develop techniques to achieve this very fast paced rendezvous. Bill had managed the planning team through all the arguments and difficulties and by flight time, had an enthusiastic crew on board and in the MCC, ready to rendezvous in less than one orbit.
The third launch attempt was a charm. Gemini 11 made a small plane change correction after insertion, then a terminal intercept maneuver, and then a few mid-courses and braking had the crew station-keeping by an hour and twenty minutes. Docked burns and docking practice added to program experience and on the second day another umbilical EVA commenced. After hatch opening, Dick Gordon proceeded to the nose of the spacecraft and attached a tether from the Agena to the Gemini docking bar. Again, like Gene Cernan, all of this proved very difficult for Dick and his labored breathing, coming to us over the air-to-ground loop underscored his difficulty. The EVA was terminated early after about one-half hour, but the tether had been secured. The crew difficulty was clear evidence that we still could not execute an EVA successfully with reasonable crew workload and that we had more to learn.
One of the highlights of Gemini 11 is the series of iconic photos over the Indian subcontinent, taken from an altitude of seven hundred fifty miles. Gemini 11 flew in this kind of orbit for two revs after a docked burn by the Agena 11 stage. Once returned to the usual one-hundred-sixty-mile orbit, the crew did a stand up EVA, and later undocked from the Agena for tether operations. As Gemini 11 backed away from the Agena and the tether played out, the crew began the first experiments in tether dynamics. The crew was able to spin up the two vehicles attached by the tether and it seemed to be easier to control than we expected. We didn’t have a planned use of this capability but the sponsors of the tether test thought it might serve someday as a way to keep vehicles together in orbit when they weren’t able to dock. It was also thought that this might be a form of inducing a minor G-field on the vehicles.
Because of the high fuel usage during the terminal phase of Gemini 10, my intuition led us to try a modified terminal phase approach that slowed down the relative motion, as the chase vehicle approached the target. We were only going to try this re-rendezvous if we had sufficient fuel and the crew was okay with an early wakeup. Even before MCC called, the crew was up and powering up the guidance equipment for the test. As usual, the crew wanted to learn as much as we could about this new world whenever we had an opportunity. We called this a standoff rendezvous because we positioned the Gemini chase vehicle in exactly the same orbit as the target, but displaced behind so that it trailed the target by twenty-five miles. The rendezvous worked fine. And as late as the ninth manned Gemini flight (GT-11), we were still adding to our inventory of knowledge and experience at every opportunity. Some of this experience probably helped when the Shuttle/Station approaches were being adjusted from fighter pilot intercepts to the berthing of very large vehicles, which do not permit a lot of braking plume impingements on appendages. The terminal phase of the approach was targeted so that the point of apogee of the appro
ach path coincided with the target vehicle. Just add the impulse of a posigrade maneuver at apogee and the ships will be in range for formation flying and then docking. This avoids a braking maneuver as the vehicles close on each other at velocities around twenty miles per hour.
Gemini 12 was crewed by Jim Lovell and Buzz Aldrin. It was the last of the Gemini flights and we were still looking for a solid EVA success. All other program goals had already been exceeded. Lift-off was on November 11, 1966, at 3:46:30. By three hours and fifty minutes GET, the crew was docked to the Agena. The rendezvous radar did not work for the last phases of rendezvous, but the experienced Trench team vectored Gemini 12 to its terminal phase conditions. Once on the intercept, Buzz Aldrin was the class expert on terminal phase without a rendezvous radar and lived out his PhD dissertation.
There were three EVAs – an extended standup EVA with hatch open for two and one half hours, a planned umbilical EVA that was the big test of new EVA restraint provisions and a later stand-up EVA to eject unneeded equipment from the cockpit. There was a continued set of Gemini system problems besides the radar loss – oxygen to water warning lights in the fuel cell system, some degradation in fuel cell performance, little or no thrust from several thrusters, and an increase in regulated pressure in one of the two entry control systems. The team of flight controllers and flight crew were quick to stabilize all these problems.
The EVA went very well. One significant improvement was a set of handrails for the crew to use in traversing to the rear of the spacecraft. Other handholds were in the rear of the ship where Buzz slipped his boots into very large slippers that restrained him at this workstation. Gemini 12 training for EVA also initiated the first time use of a large water tank to simulate some aspects of the EVA environment. This combination of aids and new training method coupled with scheduled rest periods led to a very controlled and successful EVA.
Highways Into Space: A first-hand account of the beginnings of the human space program Page 14