When the Politburo ordered Chelomei and Mishin to prepare for a spectacular dual manned Soyuz mission for that April, Mishin, in an act of real integrity, refused the assignment. But he was eventually pressured into compliance. The Politburo wanted a dramatic mission that would equal all of Project Gemini’s achievements in a single stroke: the orbital maneuvering, rendezvous, and docking of two spacecraft, followed by the exciting space walk transfer of two crew members between the docked Soyuz spacecraft. Soviet leaders also demanded that the mission coincide as closely as possible with May Day, so they could celebrate “international solidarity” with Eastern bloc nations.
Test engineers fretted over the obvious design flaws in the new Soyuz, while a four-man crew led by veterans Valery Bykovsky, the pilot of Vostok 5, and Vladimir Komarov, the commander of the Voskhod I mission, trained for the dual Soyuz 1 and 2 missions. Komarov would be launched alone aboard the first spacecraft, and Bykovsky and his two crewmates, Yevgeny Khrunov and Aleksey Yeliseyev orbited the next day aboard Soyuz 2. After rendezvous and docking, Khrunov and Yeliseyev would join Komarov aboard Soyuz 1 via a spectacular space walk, using the docked orbital modules as air locks. This dual flight would not only duplicate Gemini’s record of success, it would also demonstrate the Soviets’ capability for similar orbital maneuvers on a more ambitious Soyuz lunar flight.
Just before dawn on April 23, 1967, Colonel Komarov climbed aboard the Soyuz 1 spacecraft, mounted atop a large SL-4 booster. At age 40, Komarov was one of the oldest cosmonauts and certainly the most technically qualified, with years of experience in flight-test engineering. He had been a part of the manned Soviet spacecraft program from its inception and was considered its best-qualified pilot. In addition, his broad shoulders and sharply molded Slavic features made him an ideal representative of this daring new Soviet venture. He had already demonstrated his courage and dedication to duty by commanding the risky Voskhod I mission.
The launch itself was normal, the large booster climbing away into the dawn over Kazakhstan. But as soon as the spacecraft was safely in orbit, serious malfunctions arose. The Soyuz spacecraft was equipped with two solar-panel “wings” that would convert sunlight into electricity, but one panel did not deploy, drastically reducing the spacecraft’s power supply. Worse, Komarov began experiencing the same type of control-thruster problems that had plagued the earlier unmanned test flights.
Soyuz 1 made no attempt to maneuver in orbit, despite the vehicle’s impressive propulsion system. Also, as we now know from Soviet sources, ground control in the Crimea lost the communications link with the spacecraft on several occasions, which indicates that the Soyuz 1 was tumbling so badly that Komarov couldn’t maintain antenna alignment. The original malfunction in the power supply may have affected the spacecraft’s guidance computer, its attitude control thrusters, or – most probably – both. Flight controllers scrubbed the Soyuz 2 countdown as soon as they realized that the first mission was in serious trouble. They had to concentrate on getting their cosmonaut back from space.
Komarov prepared for an emergency reentry with the crippled spacecraft. Mishin became increasingly anxious as Komarov and ground control struggled to align the Soyuz for the braking retrorocket burn as it passed northward across the equator above the Atlantic. On the sixteenth orbit, Komarov prepared for the burn, but it was cancelled when he couldn’t maintain stability. Ninety minutes later he tried again, but at the last moment the maneuver was stopped because of poor alignment. Komarov was in desperate trouble. He had probably exhausted the fuel not only from the Soyuz’s main thrusters on the instrument module, but also from the vital thrusters on the reentry module.