Gus Grissom taught NASA a hard lesson: “You can hurt yourself in the ocean”
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Eric Berger
Gus Grissom had just entered the history
books. A mere 10 weeks after Alan Shepard made America’s first human
flight into space, Grissom followed with the second one, a 15-minute
suborbital hop that took him to an altitude of 189km above the blue
planet. After the small Mercury capsule’s parachutes deployed, Grissom
splashed down in the Atlantic Ocean, seemingly bringing a flawless
mission to a close.
Only it wasn't flawless, nor was it closed. At that moment, Gus Grissom almost drowned.
It was July 21, 1961, toward the end of the
second Mercury mission, and the hatch to Grissom's spacecraft blew
early. The ocean flooded in. The astronaut responded by jumping free of
the Liberty Bell 7 capsule. He struggled for five minutes to remain
above the churning waves even as his spacesuit, already 22 pounds when
dry, filled with water.
This incident has gone down in history amid controversy. Some renditions of it, including the famous The Right Stuff
novel and movie from Tom Wolfe, portray Grissom as “screwing the
pooch.” Such accounts argue that the astronaut panicked and fired
his hatch before it was time, essentially inviting the water in.
But a new book by author George Leopold about Grissom’s life—Calculated Risk: The Supersonic Life and Times of Gus Grissom—and
a recent interview with the head of NASA’s recovery options for the
Mercury program, Bob Thompson, dispels that fiction. From these measured
accounts, Grissom emerges as a quick-thinking hero. He reacted
decisively in an uncertain situation when otherwise this mission would
have ended in death. Such an accident early in NASA's space program
could have given President Kennedy pause over the country’s nascent Moon-landing ambitions at a time when the US lagged badly behind the Soviet Union.
More
than half a century later, Grissom’s name has faded from memory.
Shepard has the honor of the first US spaceflight, John Glenn made the
first orbital flight, and Neil Armstrong stepped on the Moon. Yet
after an all-too-brief career that ended tragically in the 1967 Apollo 1
fire, Grissom deserves recognition not as an unlucky footnote but as a
genuine hero. And for today’s astronauts,
Grissom's near-death experience in the Atlantic Ocean has renewed
importance, offering a sobering reminder of the sea's peril as NASA
plans to return its Orion capsule from deep space again by way of the
ocean.
“Water is a great place to land in, but it’s a
hell of a place post-landing,” Thompson told Ars. “Let me tell you, you
can hurt yourself in the ocean.”
“This I did not do”
Virgil Ivan "Gus" Grissom was the second
youngest of the Mercury Seven astronauts NASA announced to the world on
April 9, 1959. They were all hotshot test pilots, determined to become
the first human to fly in space. Among the group, Grissom distinguished
himself by working hard (and partying hard).
By early 1961 he, Shepard, and Glenn had emerged as the frontrunners
for the coveted first flight. Ultimately all of the Americans lost out
to Yuri Gagarin, but Shepard claimed the US honor. Grissom served as the
back-up pilot.
The second US mission to space went to
Grissom, however. He would largely repeat the first Mercury flight with
two key modifications—the Liberty Bell 7 capsule would have a
trapezoid-shaped window, and a new explosive hatch would allow Grissom
to exit the spacecraft on his own. To blow the hatch, Grissom had to
remove a cap from the detonator, pull out a safety pin, and push down on
a plunger.
The flight itself was splendid. As Grissom
became the first American to directly view the Earth from space, he
marveled at his home planet. “The view through the window became quite
spectacular as the horizon came into view,” he said in his flight report.
“The sight was truly breathtaking. The Earth was very bright, the sky
was black, and the curvature of the Earth was quite prominent.”
After landing in the water with a “mild jolt,”
Grissom was ready to press ahead with the final stage of his mission.
“I felt that I was in good condition at this point and started to
prepare myself for egress,” he said. Before firing the hatch, Grissom
was supposed to wait for a rescue helicopter to fly over, hook into the
lifting loop on top of the capsule, and raise it out of the water. Once
clear, he was to remove the cap from the detonator, pull the safety pin,
and activate the firing mechanism. Then he could step onto the sill of
the hatch, climb into a horse collar lowered from the helicopter, and be
pulled to safety without ever getting wet.
Grissom didn’t wait for the helicopter to
arrive and hook the capsule, however. As the spacecraft bobbed in
four-foot seas, he removed the cap from the detonator and pulled the
safety pin. He did not push the plunger, which required five pounds of
force to depress, but a few moments later, the hatch blew anyway. In the
book We Seven (based
on firsthand accounts of the Mercury program from the astronauts),
Grissom wrote, “The plunger that detonates the bolts is so far out of
the way that I would have to reach for it on purpose to hit it. This I
did not do.”
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