One False Step

by Richard Tongue

   Strangely enough, there was little immediate response to this. It is a modern myth that there was a major worldwide reaction to Kennedy's call for man to walk on the moon. At the time, it was just one of a large number of projects, and Kennedy himself vacillated over it over the next couple of years, often mooting a suggestion for a co-operative mission between the USA and the USSR. It would only be after his assassination that this would seem like a national duty; indeed, there are some indications that had he died, Kennedy would have opted to pull back slightly on his plans for space, fearing the ever-mounting expenses involved.

   Given this, the sluggish response of the Soviet Union to the call is quite understandable. While there had been some paper studies of the possibilities of landing a cosmonaut on the moon, dating back as far as 1956, these had not progressed any further than the drawing board. Far more interest was placed in the planets, and probes to those targets were deemed as a far higher priority. Until 1964, far more attention was being made to the construction of space stations than flights to the moon, and program objectives were focused on that goal. It took about that long for it to become apparent that not only were the Americans serious about their lunar projects, but that they were well along the way to accomplishing these goals.

   It should at this point be stressed that until the coming of glasnost – and to some extent long afterwards – the Soviet Union never admitted that it was involved in a race to reach the moon. They attempted to claim that their sole goal was the construction of space platforms, accomplished with the Salyut stations, and later Mir. There were those in the West who knew better, but they were either not believed, or were unable to talk as the means by which this data was gathered was classified. But there definitely was a race, it was simply that one side started running three years later than the other. By 1964, the goal had been set to put a man on the moon by 1968, prior to the United States. A further plan was to place a cosmonaut around the moon by 1967.

   When the decision was made to attempt to beat the Americans to the moon, the first question was how to accomplish this feat. NASA had enough difficulties coming up with its final concept, it taking until 1962 to determine the best method to put men on the moon. The Soviet Union had a great many additional complications to consider.

   Often, when one thinks of the USSR, the impression of vast, monolithic state bureaucracies spring to mind, with a central control coordinating all work, pushing one single direction forward. That's a pretty good description of NASA in the period, actually; the Soviet space effort never had such a level of co-ordination. There was the Chief Designer, Sergei Korolev, but his position was far from secure, and there were many other design bureaux setting up as rivals to his efforts, some with surprising levels of success. The two goals had been established – a man on the moon, using the same Lunar Orbit Rendezvous plan adopted by the United States, and a man orbiting the moon. But the booster to be used to attain this goal was still very much in contention, and the decision would have a major impact on which designer would be the guiding force behind the moon program.

   Korolev's initial plan focused on a new rocket, the N-1. In keeping with the original goals of the Soviet space program, this rocket was actually designed not for the moon, but for Mars; it's objective was the assembly in orbit of a spaceship capable of setting a man on Mars. The concept of the rocket dated back to before the launch of the first Sputnik, and undertook a wide variety of redesigns in order to increase the payload. Still, despite its size, it would have had considerably poorer performance than the comparable Saturn V rocket – only able to put 75 tons into orbit.

   The first alternative was the R-56, developed by Mikhail Yangel, who had formerly worked for Korolev before receiving his own bureau. This would be a minimal lunar mission, only able to place 30 tons into a lunar trajectory, and would use a new high-performance engine design, the RD-270. This rocket was never seriously considered; it is thought that Yangel did not wish to split the scarce space resources three ways, fearful of the damage this might do to Soviet aspirations in space.

   By far the more serious rival was the UR series. These were developed by Vladimir Chelomei, a long-standing rival of Korolev. The UR-500 rocket would be used to place a cosmonaut in orbit around the moon, and a larger derivative, the UR-700, could be used for a lunar landing. This design returned to the 'direct-ascent' method of landing on the moon, where the whole spacecraft was launched from Earth to land on the moon, though only the top stage would leave the moon to return to Earth.

   By August 1964, the N-1 had been approved as the booster that would be used for the lunar landing program, but crucially, the UR-500 would also be developed for the circumlunar missions. At this point, the Soviet Union essentially had two lunar programs that would be continually competing for resources and attention, each hoping to squeeze the other out. At best, the Soviet Union had far fewer resources to devote to the Moon program than the United States, this was a recipe for disaster.

   The controversy would continue for another two years. Despite the approval of the plan, Chelomei and his bureau (which included Khrushchev's son) attempted to have the UR-700 reinstituted for the lunar landing. Finally, in September 1966, a commission was formed with the goal of reviewing the whole lunar program, and the original plan won the day – and strengthened the importance of the moon program, allowing it greater access to resources and funding. But this was five years after the United States had defined its lunar program.

   Of the two boosters that were selected, the N-1 and the UR-500, only one was destined to ever reach space; and that one would remain a mainstay of first the Soviet and later the Russian space programs for many years, though not in its intended role.

   The UR-500 originated as the carrier for a huge Soviet nuclear bomb, a superbomb designed to carry a payload capable of a 58-megaton yield. The only way the bomb could be delivered to targets in the United States would be through the use of a new missile, and design work quickly began. However, the weapon would fail to find a place in the Soviet nuclear arsenal, which left the missile short of a mission; it was at this stage that its designer, Chelomei, began to suggest that it could be valuable to the moon project.

   The rocket, which would become more famously known as the Proton, consists of three stages, using nitrogen tetroxide and unsymmetrical dimethyl-hydrazine. It would use what for the next twenty years would be the most advanced rocket engines in the world, far ahead of their time. A top stage, known as Block D, would use more traditional liquid oxygen and kerosene.

   Given a combination of the initial military nature of the rocket, and the general Soviet secrecy of the era, little is known today about the design history of the Proton. We do know that its early launches demonstrated poor reliability; fourteen of the first twenty-nine launches were failures, destroying a series of planetary and lunar probes. Though it would become one of the most reliable boosters in the world, completing its 300th launch in 2003, gaining this reliability took time and resources.

   If the Proton would prove difficult to tame, then the N-1 proved several orders of magnitude harder. Though some early designs date back to 1956, the missile had no evident military applications and hence languished in development hell for years; it was not until 1960 that the Soviet government decided that the development of a booster of this type could have uses, and authorised it's creation. The goal, implicitly, was a familiar one – a manned flight to Mars.

   Based on the drive of the people involved, and the skill demonstrated in carrying out these goals, it almost seems that opting to race the Americans to the Moon was a grievous tactical error. Sending men to Mars was probably an attainable feat; some historians have even suggested that this could have been carried out by the end of the decade; while this seems unlikely, certainly within the 1970s an attempt could have been made, had the moon been bypassed and a focus retained on a different primary goal for the required length of time.

   Even after it gained ap
proval, the N-1 rocket made only slow progress. One breakthrough came with the engine design; after rejecting a wide variety of existing designs, Korolev commissioned the creation of a new one, by a bureau under a plane-maker named Nikolai Kuznetsov, who had no previous experience with engine design. It must have been beginner's luck, for he came up with a design that is still regarded today as ground-breaking, in terms of both performance and cost; it is flying today in the second stage of the Indian GSLV launch vehicle.

   When the N-1 was designated as the primary vehicle for landing on the moon, again a series of problems had to be overcome. The payload weight had already been increased to 75 tonnes, but this was still insufficient for the planned lunar mission. Attempts were made to increase the weight, and a number of sacrifices to the flight – reducing the crew to two being a prime example – were accepted. The N-1 would be one of the most technically advanced rockets in the world when it finally flew, even more advanced in some ways than the Saturn V.

   Just as the N-1 finally seemed to be gaining the momentum it would need if NASA could be caught, a major disaster hit the Soviet space program – Sergei Korolev, it's driving force, died. His health had been shattered by time spent in the gulags, and he had never fully recovered. Years later, many in the Soviet space effort claimed that had he lived, they would have beaten the Americans to the moon after all; such was the effect he had on the program.

   The rival bureaux again lined up to try and usurp control. Chelomei tried again to take control of the Soviet space program, but was narrowly beaten by Vasili Mishin, Korolev's former deputy. Although he had Korolev's job, he never had the same level of prestige his predecessor had, and he would eventually be replaced in 1974, long after the race had been lost.

   Further setbacks were to follow in short order. The intended cornerstone of the Soviet manned space program, including the lunar program, was to be the Soyuz capsule, a Korolev design for a highly adaptable spaceship, with variants capable of flying Earth-orbital missions, operating with space stations, and flying to the Moon. This capsule is still flying today, indeed it is now the primary personnel transport to the International Space Station. In 1967, however, it was still brand new. Still untested, and still highly experimental.

   It had already been delayed for some years when the decision was taken to test it. It had already been delayed considerably; early plans had called for a 1964 lunar flyby. One of the most experienced cosmonauts, Vladimir Komorov, was selected to pilot it; though it could carry a crew of three, for this first test it would only carry a single man. The flight was a disaster from the start, problems with the on-board control systems became evident, and communications grew erratic. The spacecraft was brought down on an unplanned orbit, that would see it land far from the intended landing site.

   All that remained of the capsule upon landing was flaming wreckage. The parachute system failed; the first 'drogue' parachute opened correctly, but the main parachute did not. When the backup parachute deployed, it became tangled, and Soyuz 1 landed at terminal velocity. Just as the Americans had lost Apollo 1, intended as the first in a series of vehicles destined for the moon, the Soviets had now lost Soyuz 1. Despite being hit by this setback, the program continued. The vehicle that would be used to circumnavigate the moon became known as the L-1; later, it would be called Zond, sharing its name with a series of probes designed to test equipment for interplanetary probe flights.

   The Zond was a stripped down version of the Soyuz. In normal flight, the Soyuz had three modules; the Orbital Module would be stripped from the Zond to save weight. Soyuz had a maximum crew of three, the Zond only had a crew of two; the internal layout was also very different, to accommodate the different control systems that would be required for operations in lunar flights.

   One early point of contention was where the capsule should land. Traditionally, while American capsules landed at sea – with all the attendant expense of maintaining a series of naval task forces at various positions around the world for recovery operations – the Soviets preferred to bring their cosmonauts down on dry land. Partly this was forced on them; the Soviet Union did not have anything like as large a surface navy as the United States, and its capability for ocean recovery was far less developed. Coming down on land made recovery operations far simpler. The problem, however, came in a return from the Moon.

   There were two possibilities. Either the capsule could return over the northern hemisphere, where the tracking networks were properly developed – in which case it would splashdown in the Indian Ocean – or it could come in over the Indian Ocean, which a much inferior tracking network, and come down on land in the traditional manner. The Soyuz from which the Zond was derived was designed for land landings, but had the option of a water landing in an emergency. It is likely that a land landing would have been used in a manned flight – no-one would want to risk heroic lunar cosmonauts being retrieved by the United States Navy.

   Early testing of the Zond capsules was coloured by the death of Komorov on Soyuz 1, as well as the poor initial performance of its intended Proton booster. The first acknowledged Zond, Zond 4 (the earlier three had been earlier probe flights), flew to a comparable distance to the moon, but not to the moon itself, before returning, in order to test re-entry at higher speeds. This mission had two notable features. The first was two cosmonauts 'speaking' from the capsule using a relay, which must have caused some confusion to amateur observers at the time. The second was that the capsule was blown up when it returned to Earth!

   The plan had been for the Zond to 'skip' across the upper atmosphere in a difficult manoeuvre, taking it to the intended landing site. A minor systems failure meant that the 'skip' did not take place, and the craft was heading for the Gulf of Guinea. There had been some concerns that a descending capsule might be captured, and so it was fitted with a self-destruct device – which was detonated when it came so far off course.

   The destruction of the Zond must have alarmed the cosmonauts that were even then being trained to fly it. By October 1968, three crews had been assembled for the flight, including several of the most experienced in the cosmonaut team. The 'prime' crew were Alexei Leonov and Oleg Makarov. Leonov had famously made the first ever spacewalk in 1964 from Voshkod 2, ahead of the Americans. Makarov was a civilian engineer, who at the time had yet to fly in space.

   It was not until September of that year that the Soviet Union launched another admitted Zond, Zond 5, with the goal of flight-testing the capsule in an unmanned lunar flyby. Though there were attempts to conceal the nature of the flight, Jodrell Bank was able to track it most of the way, as it passed the moon at a distance of less than two thousand kilometres. This mission was a much greater success; its cargo of two turtles completed a re-entry (though again, the 'skip' re-entry failed) and the capsule landed in the Indian Ocean.

   Shortly thereafter, Soyuz 3 completed a partially successful test flight, leading to the re-qualification of the capsule, and it seemed as though at least the plan to complete an orbit of the moon was regaining its lost momentum. (The intention had been to dock with the unmanned Soyuz 2, but this was not accomplished.) To many outside observers, it seemed likely that a manned circumlunar flight was imminent, but Chief Designer Mishin opted for caution; he wanted four successful unmanned flights before he would risk a crew.

   Zond 6 launched on November 10th, 1968, with the same basic mission as its predecessor. Problems with earlier missions recurred, but the flight path took it to within 2,418 kilometre of the moon, and a photograph of 'Earthrise' was taken that is eerily reminiscent of that which would be taken shortly afterward by Apollo 8. There were more problems after the lunar flyby, with cabin pressure fluctuating, and problems with its engines – nevertheless, the atmospheric 'skip' was this time completed successfully. The second re-entry was poor – the cabin was de-pressurized while it was still in space, which would have killed an unprotected crew, and the cabin crashed into the Earth ant tremendous speed after
another failure with the parachutes. A crew could have survived de-pressurisation if they were wearing spacesuits, but the landing was not survivable.

   Nevertheless, there were calls for a manned shot, primarily from the cosmonauts who were preparing to fly it. It was known by this time that Apollo 8 was to fly to the moon, a mission believed to be risky by many including Mishin; it was unrealistic to suggest that the flight around the moon could take place before the Americans – 1969 was viewed as a more realistic target. (This incidentally could have still potentially meant a Soviet first; Apollo 8 was originally intended for a lunar module test flight, but the LM was delayed in development. Had the original schedule been stuck to, the Zond flights would have had a better chance of attaining their goal.)

   The success of Apollo 8 – which far from a simple lunar flyby, actually saw the capsule placed in lunar orbit – was the death-knell for a manned Zond flight. Though there were no shortage of volunteers to fly such a mission, it seemed meaningless from a prestige point of view after the United States had succeeded with a far more technically challenging flight. At one point in early 1969 it was still on the schedule, but as the American lunar program progressed, the value seemed to diminish. Two more unmanned Zond flights were made, in 1969 and 1970 – these were both total successes, and crews would have survived the flights. Based on that – the 1968 Zond mission that would have narrowly beaten Apollo 8 could have been launched, and kept the 'Space Race' alive a little longer – but no-one could have known that at the time.

   The manned landing program, technically at least, still remained on the schedule at this point. Design work had taken place in parallel with Zond, and another capsule, again Soyuz-derived, was developed for the flight. This was known as the LOK, and although seven were built, only one ever flew, and that unmanned (fortunately, as the N-1 booster that was launching it exploded).