Riding Rockets

But it was all conjecture. There was no way to know the pressure integrity of the cockpit and, therefore, the state of crew consciousness. Bagian and Carter did have some ancillary evidence suggesting crew inactivity, which some thought could be a signature of crew blackout. Every piece of paper recovered from the wreckage was examined to see if any crewmembers had written a note. Nothing had been discovered. Neither had the cockpit overhead emergency escape hatch been blown. Some astronauts had suggested they would have jettisoned it as they neared the water to facilitate escape if impact was survived. The status of Mike Smith’s PEAP also hinted at crew inactivity—the canister was only depleted by two and a half minutes, which meant his visor had remained closed during the fall. If it had been open, all five minutes of PEAP air would have leaked out. But, if the crew had been conscious, wouldn’t they haveraised their visors to talk to one another in their fight for survival? That was Bagian’s and Carter’s hypothesis. After all, we were trained to react to emergencies as a team and that required communication. At breakup the intercom failed, leaving visors-open, direct speaking as the only means of communicating. (Crash damage had obliterated all the helmets and all but Mike’s PEAP, making it impossible to know if the visors of the others were up or down.)

After the presentation was concluded, someone put the escape question to Bagian and Carter. “If this had occurred during OFT [the first four shuttle flights in which the two-man crews had ejection seats], do you think the crew would have been able to bail out?” Their answer was a definite yes. The OFT crews had worn pressure suits. Even if cabin pressure had been lost, those suits would have kept the crew conscious and they would have been able to pull an ejection handle.

Carter next informed everybody that the flight surgeon’s office was going to archive a clip of our hair and a footprint to facilitate our identification in the event of a future shuttle loss. That comment suggested how difficult identification of theChallenger crew remains had been. Even dental records hadn’t been enough. John Young sagely observed, “When extraordinary methods are being taken to make sure you can be identified after you’re dead, everybody ought to think twice about the job they’re in.” He was right.

He was also right when he added, “We shouldn’t fly again until we have an escape system.” Already some NASA managers were suggesting we should return to flight as quickly as possible and the escape system modifications could catch up. As much as I disliked Young for his attempts to torpedo my astronaut career, the position he took on some issues were the right ones.

Carter reminded everybody, “Keep the information you just heard to yourselves.” At that Dick Richards (class of 1980) lashed out, “Who does NASA think it’s protecting? The families? They don’t care if the information is released.”

John Young answered him. “NASA is protecting NASA.” He had it right again.

After the meeting broke up, I went to the gym for a run. It quickly became a sprint. I wanted to punish myself. I wanted the agony of burning lungs and a pounding heart and aching legs to overwhelm me so I wouldn’t have to deal with the reality of what I had just heard. Sweat stung my eyes but I made no effort to wipe it away. I had become a self-flagellating penitent. Pain was good. I relaxed my jaw to its limits and tilted my head back, trying to form a straight pipe to my lungs. Strings of saliva grew from the corners of my mouth and were jerked away by the pounding of my legs. My respiration took on the sound of an emphysemic wheezing and gasping for breath. Several NASA employees passed opposite me and I caught the question in their eyes: “What’s he running from?”