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British journalist Adam Higginbotham, author of “Midnight in Chernobyl: The Untold Story of the World's Greatest Nuclear Disaster,” returns with a thoroughly researched new book. “Challenger: A True Story of Heroism and Disaster at the Edge of Space.” (Simon & Schuster), on the 1986 space shuttle disaster.
Read the excerpt below.
Adam Higginbotham's 'Challenger'
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Flight Control Room 1
Johnson Space Center, Houston
January 28, 1986, 8:30 a.m.
As usual the coffee was terrible. It was bitter, watery, and the color of tea. It's almost certainly undrinkable. Anyway, he filled his cup and went back to the console to plug in his headset. He promised it would be a long morning.
Steve Nesbitt arrived at the office early to check the latest weather updates for the Cape, took a short walk past the duck pond to Building 30, and took the elevator up to Mission Control. But from what he had already seen on TV, there was absolutely no chance of a launch today. Florida was frozen solid and icicles two feet high were hanging from the gantries. It seemed certain that Space Shuttle Mission 51-L would face another delay.
Nesbitt has been involved in public affairs at NASA for more than five years, was there for the triumphant launch of the first space shuttle in 1981, and helped respond to press and media inquiries from around the world. Since then, he has become Mission Control's lead commentator and delivered live commentary from Houston on nearly all of the 24 shuttle flights. But he was still nervous.
The responsibility of translating arcane engineering jargon and abbreviations used by NASA engineers and astronauts into language the public can understand began with the launch countdown commentary blaring over loudspeakers at Cape Canaveral. After that – everything that happened after the count reached zero and the spacecraft left the ground was under Nesbitt's watch. There was no script and he knew his words would be relayed in real time to everyone watching the launch on TV. via three national networks, the recently launched cable channel CNN, or NASA's dedicated satellite feed; Instead, he relied on the Ascension Event List, which mapped out a series of milestones the space shuttle would pass on its way to orbit. We mapped out a series of milestones as the spacecraft runs from its slow roll roaring away from the launch pad to the moment its main engines shut down. edge of space.
The quiet environment of the flight control room is designed to keep each flight controller's mind focused on his or her job, and recently a television set was installed near the flight controllers' console to display images of the shuttle in flight. Nesbitt barely had time to look at it because his attention was focused on the console in front of him. From here he had access to real-time information about the spacecraft. Through the headset, he could hear dozens of audio “loops” connecting groups of NASA engineers and flight controllers on an internal communications network. And on a pair of black-and-white monitors, he could see telemetry data being transmitted from the shuttle back to Earth, a column of numbers updating every second describing one of hundreds of technical parameters for in-flight performance.
With hundreds of feeds to choose from, Nesbitt regularly favored “flight operating procedures,” which included data on the shuttle's engine performance, and “trajectory” displays showing speed, altitude and descent distance. Despite having all this at his fingertips, Nesbitt found live commentary nerve-wracking and practiced frequently. He took his duty to public service seriously and, like Hollywood publicists, hated when other critics got away with flowery language. He wanted to play it straight.
Still, even as the final countdown began after a cold the day before, Nesbitt would have welcomed another launch delay. He had a sore throat and wasn't sure if he could hold a conversation. His voice rises full, without straining or cracking. He quietly waited for his signal. Until shuttle engines and giant solid rockets shine; He had his counterpart at the Cape announce: challenger The tower has been cleaned up.
It was almost exactly 11:38 a.m. when Nesbitt saw the numbers on the screen start moving, and a few seconds later he keyed into his microphone to speak.
“A good role program has been identified. challenger “It’s heading downwards now.”
Next to him at the console position was a flight surgeon (a Navy doctor in uniform), looking at a large TV across the room. It was a perfect launch. challenger The flight was less than 30 minutes into the day when Nesbitt provided the next update.
“The engine started to slow down and is now at 94 percent,” he said. “For most flights, normal throttle is 104%. We'll bring it down to 65% soon.”
The flight surgeon watched the shuttle climb higher over the Atlantic Ocean and into a cloudless sky. Nesbitt continued to look at the monitor. “The speed is 2,257 feet per second,” he said. “The altitude is 4.3 nautical miles and the downward range is 3 nautical miles.” The numbers all looked good. At 68 seconds, he reported the next important moment on the list in front of him. “The engines are getting faster. Engine three is now at 104%.”
Next row down at the console, 10 feet away, astronaut Dick Covey confirmed the change to the shuttle commander.challengerSpeed up.”
“Roger, speed up.”
It has been 1 minute and 10 seconds since the spacecraft flew.
Four seconds later, Nesbitt heard a loud noise coming from his headphones. A surgeon was seen next to him. challenger It was suddenly obscured by a ball of orange and white flames.
“What was that?” She said.
But Nesbitt was staring at the monitor.
“One minute and fifteen seconds. The speed is 2,900 feet per second,” he said.
“Altitude 9 nautical miles. Downward distance 7 nautical miles.” Then Nesbitt looked up and followed the surgeon's gaze toward the TV set. Something terrible happened. There was no trace challenger, the expanding fireball that once was and the exhaust trails of the shuttle's two booster rockets twisting in opposite directions across the sky. His console was no help. This is because the data stream has stopped. Other flight controllers were sitting around him with shocked expressions. No one said a word.
Nesbitt knew he had to speak up, but he had no information to explain what he had witnessed. His heart was racing. He considered his responsibility to the public and the astronauts' families. He suddenly thought of the attempt on Ronald Reagan's life almost five years ago. In the chaos that followed, CBS News anchor Dan Rather announced that White House Press Secretary James Brady had been murdered. It was very much alive in his head. Nesbitt didn't want to make that mistake.
The moment of silence stretched into 30 minutes. A painful silence hung over NASA's commentary loop. Forever dead air. On the TV screen, clouds were blowing in the wind. Pieces of wreckage fluttered toward the sea. The flight director surveyed his team in vain for answers.
It took 41 seconds for Steve Nesbitt to speak again.
“The flight controllers here are monitoring the situation very carefully,” he said, his voice flat and cold. “This is clearly a serious malfunction.”
Excerpted from “The Challenger: A True Story of Heroism and Disaster at the Edge of Space” by Adam Higginbotham. Published by Avid Reader Press/Simon and Schuster. Copyright © 2024. All rights reserved.
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