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Anyone alive and sentient 25 years ago to the minute cannot forget this:
Click the image to see Space.com's memorial of the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster.
Everyone in the world, it seemed, witnessed the disaster live. This was a special launch because Christa McAuliffe, a high school teacher from New Hampshire - a regular person - was going into space for the first time as part of the "Teacher in Space" program. Teachers around the world tuned in during class, their students watching live, learning about everything related to planning and launching a Space Shuttle and its mission.
At the time, I was studying astronomy at the University of Minnesota, a freshman. For the launch, I was in the student union, having lunch with my friend Krista McCallum as was our routine almost every day. We were both particularly excited about the near-coincidence of names, and both of us hoped to be teachers one day; I'd even gotten a scholarship from our hometown school teacher's association. And of course we dreamed of one day being astronauts, as well. Christa McAuliffe carried our dreams with her - she was us! This moment belonged to us as much as to anyone else not directly involved in the flight or related to the crew members. Golly, I can't tell you how excited we were!
This was an important launch because the Space Shuttle had come to be considered merely a semi-truck ferrying cargo to low orbit. Partly to address dwindling popular interest in their flagship Shuttle program, NASA had instituted the Teacher in Space Program. The Space Shuttle had become mundane, its launches routine. No one had been tuning in any longer, and visitors to see live launches had dwindled to small groups of enthusiasts.
But not today. At 11:38AM (Florida time) on January 28, 1986, we all cheered as the flight narrator announced, "We have lift-off of the Space Shuttle Challenger." We watched the ungainly cluster of fat spaceship, external solid-rocket boosters, and external hydrogen tank rise and rotate, trailing its signature three-plume exhaust: two yellow pillars so bright that photographic equipment must stop down apertures, and in the center the gorgeous blue exhaust of the liquid-fuel engines, almost invisible against the solid-rocket's glare.
Seventy-two seconds into the flight, those infamous O-rings had seeped enough solid-rocket exhaust to destroy the skeleton that held everything together. Most importantly, the errant exhaust burned a hole through the external fuel tank and intertank, venting hydrogen and oxygen gases which ignited in a ball of flame.
The seven-astronaut crew of Challenger's STS-51L mission: commander Dick Scobee, pilot Mike Smith; mission specialists Judy Resnik; Ellison Onizuka, and Ron McNair; and payload specialists Greg Jarvis and Christa McAuliffe:
Click the image to see Space.com's description of the Challenger Space Shuttle's final crew and an analysis of what went wrong.
The televisions in the dining area were tuned live to the launch, of course, like most every television in the nation. Everyone gradually grew quiet as this new streamer of flame appeared. We'd all seen dozens of flights before, and this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Almost exactly one minute later, a horrible ball of fire erupted and all the pieces flew apart, trailing plumes of exhaust off at crazy angles.
In the dining area, everyone's faces bore confusion. Some students and teachers had their hands over their mouths. I don't remember much detail about this time except feelings: It couldn't be what it seemed to be; surely this was just another solid-rocket-booster and external-tank separation, right? But why so early? What had gone wrong? What's going on? Surveys later revealed that more than 85% of Americans knew about the disaster within the hour.
We listened in silence as the TV announcer tried to relay information, but he didn't have much to say. No, the astronauts weren't responding. Was the Challenger in aerodynamic flight? It was unclear. We were in denial: It can't have been destroyed. If it had indeed exploded as the video seemed to have shown, surely the Shuttle had made it clear. Surely the astronauts could eject if the Shuttle was too damaged to land. Right?
Reports began filtering in, dashing hopes. Scorched fragments of Challenger on the floor of the Pacific Ocean. It wasn't until later that we learned of the pieces of spacesuit also discovered. That's when we knew it was safe to mourn. The whole nation mourned, indeed space enthusiasts the world over felt this as a personal blow. Not only because we had lost seven brave astronaut-scientists, but because of what this might mean in the long run: Would manned spaceflight recover? Modern society had lost its grit, and any loss of life was unacceptable. Would the American people resume the program after such a public tragedy?
In fact, almost three years passed before another Shuttle launch lit up the skies over Cape Canaveral. In the mean time, the Rogers Commission reported that NASA had been aware - since 1977 - of a design flaw in the external boosters' O-rings that could create a serious problem in low temperatures - as the Cape experienced on that fateful morning. The Rogers Commission offered NASA nine recommendations that had to be implemented before Space Shuttle flights could resume. Of course, since then we discovered another fatal flaw when the Space Shuttle Columbia broke up over Texas on February 1, 2003, a flaw which has since been addressed.
Even though I was not involved with NASA in any way, this was a moment that changed my life. I felt as if the door to a future in astronautics had closed off. Not because I was afraid of experiencing a similar disaster and dying at launch - every time you climb aboard a mountain of explosives, that's a possibility. But because I feared our nation would lose its will to explore. Even if I were never to become an astronaut, myself - and I was realistic enough to grudgingly accept this - I feared that we would never again have astronauts at all. My earliest dreams were to explore, and after reading my first science-fiction stories, those dreams of exploration pointed to the stars. When I became more educated about things astronomical, I knew that one day I would explore the moons of Jupiter. At least, someone would do the exploring for me, and I could bask in the glory of exploring by proxy as a fellow human being once more walked on the surface of another world.
January 28, 1986, nearly evaporated those dreams.
Since then, dreams of exploring other worlds myself faded in the glare of time, of course, but it's still possible that I will one day go to space. It's possible because I was wrong about the American people: We did not lose our will. We retained our spirit of exploration. We will one day not only explore our Solar System, but the stars themselves.
This I believe. And we must honor the sacrifices of those who paved the way to the stars. Thank you, Dick Scobee, Mike Smith, Judy Resnik, Ellison Onizuka, Ron McNair, Greg Jarvis, and Christa McAuliffe. And thank you to the other astronauts who gave the ultimate sacrifice, and to all the Soviet cosmonauts, as well.
Where were you on this fateful day?
Chris
Click the image to see Space.com's memorial of the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster.
Everyone in the world, it seemed, witnessed the disaster live. This was a special launch because Christa McAuliffe, a high school teacher from New Hampshire - a regular person - was going into space for the first time as part of the "Teacher in Space" program. Teachers around the world tuned in during class, their students watching live, learning about everything related to planning and launching a Space Shuttle and its mission.
At the time, I was studying astronomy at the University of Minnesota, a freshman. For the launch, I was in the student union, having lunch with my friend Krista McCallum as was our routine almost every day. We were both particularly excited about the near-coincidence of names, and both of us hoped to be teachers one day; I'd even gotten a scholarship from our hometown school teacher's association. And of course we dreamed of one day being astronauts, as well. Christa McAuliffe carried our dreams with her - she was us! This moment belonged to us as much as to anyone else not directly involved in the flight or related to the crew members. Golly, I can't tell you how excited we were!
This was an important launch because the Space Shuttle had come to be considered merely a semi-truck ferrying cargo to low orbit. Partly to address dwindling popular interest in their flagship Shuttle program, NASA had instituted the Teacher in Space Program. The Space Shuttle had become mundane, its launches routine. No one had been tuning in any longer, and visitors to see live launches had dwindled to small groups of enthusiasts.
But not today. At 11:38AM (Florida time) on January 28, 1986, we all cheered as the flight narrator announced, "We have lift-off of the Space Shuttle Challenger." We watched the ungainly cluster of fat spaceship, external solid-rocket boosters, and external hydrogen tank rise and rotate, trailing its signature three-plume exhaust: two yellow pillars so bright that photographic equipment must stop down apertures, and in the center the gorgeous blue exhaust of the liquid-fuel engines, almost invisible against the solid-rocket's glare.
Seventy-two seconds into the flight, those infamous O-rings had seeped enough solid-rocket exhaust to destroy the skeleton that held everything together. Most importantly, the errant exhaust burned a hole through the external fuel tank and intertank, venting hydrogen and oxygen gases which ignited in a ball of flame.
The seven-astronaut crew of Challenger's STS-51L mission: commander Dick Scobee, pilot Mike Smith; mission specialists Judy Resnik; Ellison Onizuka, and Ron McNair; and payload specialists Greg Jarvis and Christa McAuliffe:
Click the image to see Space.com's description of the Challenger Space Shuttle's final crew and an analysis of what went wrong.
The televisions in the dining area were tuned live to the launch, of course, like most every television in the nation. Everyone gradually grew quiet as this new streamer of flame appeared. We'd all seen dozens of flights before, and this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Almost exactly one minute later, a horrible ball of fire erupted and all the pieces flew apart, trailing plumes of exhaust off at crazy angles.
In the dining area, everyone's faces bore confusion. Some students and teachers had their hands over their mouths. I don't remember much detail about this time except feelings: It couldn't be what it seemed to be; surely this was just another solid-rocket-booster and external-tank separation, right? But why so early? What had gone wrong? What's going on? Surveys later revealed that more than 85% of Americans knew about the disaster within the hour.
We listened in silence as the TV announcer tried to relay information, but he didn't have much to say. No, the astronauts weren't responding. Was the Challenger in aerodynamic flight? It was unclear. We were in denial: It can't have been destroyed. If it had indeed exploded as the video seemed to have shown, surely the Shuttle had made it clear. Surely the astronauts could eject if the Shuttle was too damaged to land. Right?
Reports began filtering in, dashing hopes. Scorched fragments of Challenger on the floor of the Pacific Ocean. It wasn't until later that we learned of the pieces of spacesuit also discovered. That's when we knew it was safe to mourn. The whole nation mourned, indeed space enthusiasts the world over felt this as a personal blow. Not only because we had lost seven brave astronaut-scientists, but because of what this might mean in the long run: Would manned spaceflight recover? Modern society had lost its grit, and any loss of life was unacceptable. Would the American people resume the program after such a public tragedy?
In fact, almost three years passed before another Shuttle launch lit up the skies over Cape Canaveral. In the mean time, the Rogers Commission reported that NASA had been aware - since 1977 - of a design flaw in the external boosters' O-rings that could create a serious problem in low temperatures - as the Cape experienced on that fateful morning. The Rogers Commission offered NASA nine recommendations that had to be implemented before Space Shuttle flights could resume. Of course, since then we discovered another fatal flaw when the Space Shuttle Columbia broke up over Texas on February 1, 2003, a flaw which has since been addressed.
Even though I was not involved with NASA in any way, this was a moment that changed my life. I felt as if the door to a future in astronautics had closed off. Not because I was afraid of experiencing a similar disaster and dying at launch - every time you climb aboard a mountain of explosives, that's a possibility. But because I feared our nation would lose its will to explore. Even if I were never to become an astronaut, myself - and I was realistic enough to grudgingly accept this - I feared that we would never again have astronauts at all. My earliest dreams were to explore, and after reading my first science-fiction stories, those dreams of exploration pointed to the stars. When I became more educated about things astronomical, I knew that one day I would explore the moons of Jupiter. At least, someone would do the exploring for me, and I could bask in the glory of exploring by proxy as a fellow human being once more walked on the surface of another world.
January 28, 1986, nearly evaporated those dreams.
Since then, dreams of exploring other worlds myself faded in the glare of time, of course, but it's still possible that I will one day go to space. It's possible because I was wrong about the American people: We did not lose our will. We retained our spirit of exploration. We will one day not only explore our Solar System, but the stars themselves.
This I believe. And we must honor the sacrifices of those who paved the way to the stars. Thank you, Dick Scobee, Mike Smith, Judy Resnik, Ellison Onizuka, Ron McNair, Greg Jarvis, and Christa McAuliffe. And thank you to the other astronauts who gave the ultimate sacrifice, and to all the Soviet cosmonauts, as well.
Where were you on this fateful day?
Chris
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When it went bad, I don't really remember what other people were doing. I just started crying and had to excuse myself. I still cry when I think about it. I'm not sure why the space shuttle has always meant so much to me, but that moment was devastating. I walked home instead of going back to class and found that my dad was crying also. It was the first and only time I've seen him cry.
Ultimately, I chalk it up to the fact that we were both such big SF fans, and the shuttle represented, as you said, a future of exploration. It was man striving and surpassing his own limitations. The Victorians made heroes of explorers, a sentiment that's easy to understand--and by our time, there just didn't seem like so much new stuff to explore. The astronauts were our heroes, the intrepid explorers who charged into the unknown.
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Several hours later, I arrived at the home of my host family, where they very gently brought me into the living room and turned on the German TV station. We American students didn't really start putting the story together until the next morning.
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http://mabfan.livejournal.com/491327.html
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Wonderfully said. That's exactly how it felt. Thankfully, it turned out not to be the sort of tragedy we feared it to be.
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Apparently not that many people, other than those in schools or educational institutions watched live. Most caught rebroadcasts.
My sister called my husband, who was working at home. He called the secretary in the office next to the lab where I was working (grad school), so a bunch of us huddled around the radio in our lab. My husband, after making the phone call, immediately started the VCR taping one of the news channels so that we'd have a record, and I'd be able to watch when I got home. I'll never forget those images.
I'll also never forget Richard Feynman at the inquiry showing the effect of cold on the O-ring material, just using his glass of ice water.
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I haven't seen the Feynman demo. I bet it's on YouTube....
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Jan 27, 1967: Apollo 1 launchpad fire
Jan 28, 2006, 25 years ago today: Space Shuttle Challenger exploded 73 seconds after launch
Feb 1, 3002: Space Shuttle Columbia destroyed during re-entry
Grissom, Chafee, White, Scobee, McNair, Smith, Onizuka, Resnik, Jarvis, McAuliffe, Husband, McCool, Anderson, Chawla, Brown, Clark, and Ramon.
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Mum worked at NASA for a commander of the last Gemini and first Apollo launches. Apollo was named in order to not have a Gemini 13.
It did not stop a tragedy.
And remember, Apollo 13 almost was a tragedy as well.
I can't remember the Challenger disaster, I was on the road at the time, and must have been a later memory to me.
I hate to say that the only memory I have is a bad joke:
What did Christine McAuliffe tell her husband before she left?
You feed the dog and I'll feed the fish.
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Hahahaha! That is a terrible joke.
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She was there whilst dad worked on the President's wing at Andrews AFB, in the late 60s.
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Back in those times, I got to try "astronaut food" back then it was little packets of cubes.. and Tang.. ohmy, we drank a LOT of Tang!
I have a much clearer memory of being in a classroom in the 5th or 6th grade and listening to the Apollo 13 mission on the Armed Forces radio.
And feeling very very scared.
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What I remember most are the arguments I got into with my fellow classmates after the fact. That morning, there was maybe a dozen students total who even knew Challenger was scheduled to launch that day, much less cared about it. By evening, the whole school knew about the disaster, and there were many discussions about the future of NASA, whether the space program was even necessary, and if the astronauts who died in the explosion were worthy of being called heroes.
One of those arguments almost resulted in a fist fight between me and a girl who dismissed the entire concept of space exploration as a useless waste of time, money, and resources. All the Challenger's crew had done was die on national television, she claimed, what was heroic about that?
I don't remember what I said in response, I was quite ill by that point. Whatever it was, I hope it involved vomiting on her shoes.
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That said, she was still dead wrong about the Challenger crew not being heroes.
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I was reading in my room when a brother came in to tell me the shuttle had exploded. Since I had my radio playing and hadn't heard anything, I didn't believe him. And then my radio station got around to announcing that news.
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I recall the emotions, and the dreaded replays of the event. I realized at that moment that there was no way NASA would ever let an ordinary citizen participate in any future missions. There goes that dream...
I made it to class and we had to talk about the tragedy in Spanish. I learned the phrase "nave espacial" for Space Shuttle.
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Ugh, cable news.
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(Yes, I was THAT serious as a child.)
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We will, one day, venture to the stars
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"Ground Control to Major Tom.. " :)
And then again there's knowing this.. and not being able to discuss it.. how must that be?!
"All Apollo and Gemini flights were followed, both at a distance and sometimes also quite closely, by space vehicles of extraterrestrial origin - flying saucers, or UFOs, if you want to call them by that name. Every time it occurred, the astronauts informed Mission Control, who then ordered absolute silence."
--Maurice Chatelain, former chief of NASA Communications Systems.
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At the 20th anniversary, I finaly figured it out. Earlier in the month of the disaster I moved, changed jobs, changed churches and got divorced.
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