About the size of a beach ball and carrying nothing but a rudimentary radio transmitter, the Soviet Union's Sputnik satellite threw Americans into a scare.
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The morning of October 5, 1957 Americans woke up to news that shocked and frightened them.
Late the previous evening—about 11:30 October 4 Eastern Standard Time—the Soviet
Union successfully placed a man-made
object into earth orbit. Two objects, actually—a shiny metal ball about 23 inches in diameter
with four whip antennae weighing
just over 180 pounds, and the protective rocket
nose cone from which it had separated when it reach orbital Space.
The ball, Sputnik 1, was essentially a simple radio transmitter encased in a polished aluminum-magnesium-titanium alloy heat shield made in two hemispheres
bolted together and sealed with an O-ring. Its four antennae broadcast simple repeated
beeps alternatingly on two broadcast
bands that could easily be monitored across the globe by HAM radio operators. An hour after launch, after determining that
it had completed one low earth
elliptical orbit Soviet authorities had announced their achievement
and released information on how radio transmissions could be monitored and how the artificial moon might be observed from Earth. Actually only the
nose cone was large enough to reflect enough light to be seen from earth by the
unaided eye. The transmitting satellite, however, could be observed
by telescope.
Sputnik was launched from a remote base near Tyuratam in the Kazakh SSR,
the site for testing of R-7 two stage
rockets. In a final race against
time, the launch facility had been completed only weeks before the successful
launch.
The Soviets had determined to
proceed with a project to launch an artificial satellite in January of 1956
after learning that President Eisenhower
had announced plans to launch an American one during the much ballyhooed International Geophysical Year (IGY) scheduled to last 18 months from
July 1, 1957, to December 31, 1958. What
they didn’t realize was that the American effort was lagging due to the unreliability
of the primary launch vehicle, the Navy’s Vanguard rocket.
The project was divided into two
parts—the development and construction of the satellite, and the development of
a reliable and powerful two stage rocket
which would, not coincidentally, be suitably adaptable for use in the creation
of an Inter-Continental Ballistic
Missile (ICBM) capable of
carrying and delivering a heavy nuclear
war head.
Work on the creation of an ambitious
satellite was divided between five industrial/scientific
ministries under the loose coordination of the USSR Academy of Sciences. Original
specifications for an object that would weigh between 2,000 and 3,000 pounds
including a 700 lb. payload of
scientific instruments and experiments.
It was to be able to transmit data to ground stations. But when the various ministries delivered
their parts, they did not fit together due to variations in specifications. Worse, the heavy package proved to be more
than the troubled R-7 rockets could handle
From May 15 to July 12 three
attempts to launch an R-7 failed. A
fourth attempt on August 21 was partially successful—the head successful
separated achieved orbital space but had to be destroyed upon re-entering the atmosphere. A fifth test had
similar results. While this meant that
the R-7 was not yet ready for use as an ICBM, it was determined that it was
capable of deploying a lightweight
satellite.
A life size model of Object D--Sputnik--in the Moscow Space Museum shows its simple construction.
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Given the problems with the two
components, the launch date for Object D
was pushed back to April 1958 by which time glitches in the satellite itself
and the launch vehicle could be ironed out.
But Soviet officials worried that
the delay would allow the U.S. to reach space first. They ordered the hasty construction of a
stripped bare satellite with greatly decreased weight. The only real pay load was the radio
transmitter, critical in proving to the world that the Soviet Union got there
first.
The Council of Ministers approved a plan to develop the basic devise in
February. Two were ordered. The first was delivered to the launch site in
late September, just as the R-7 rocket was deemed reliable for launch. Within days it was in orbit. The second Sputnik was successfully launched
in December after the spectacular
explosion of America’s Vanguard 1 on
the launch pad.
In Washington President Eisenhower took the news with his usual calm equability. Intelligence
over-flights in high flying U-2 spy aircraft had provided photos of
the launch complex and the Soviet defense establishment had even quietly
announced the development—prematurely as it turned out—of an operational ICBM
after the first semi-successful test of the R-7.
In one critical way, he was relieved that the Soviets had got their
satellite up first—it was a potential slice through a Gordian Knot of international
law. The Soviets were voraciously complaining that over-flight
of American high altitude balloons
exploring the edge of space violated
their air rights. He wasn’t sure if the Russians had yet detected the U-2 flights
at near the same altitude. The U.S.
wanted to argue that space was beyond
air rights, that it was international and free to any nation. Since
Sputnik would fly over the US, Eisenhower was confident he could use that a president for the American position.
The President was also confident
that the impending launch of Vanguard I would surpass the Soviet achievement.
Ike was shocked by the hysterical,
almost panicky response from the press and
public alike who were soon joined by
swarms of Congressmen and Senators demanding to know how America
had lost a Space Race it didn’t even
realize we were in.
America of the 1950’s was awash in
two things—paranoia about the Soviet
Union and Godless Communism and a
fascination with space travel that
seemed nearly at hand. America’s good Germans led by former Nazi V-2 developer Werner Von Braun were assumed to be better than the bad German scientists that the Soviets
had dragged into Russia. Von Braun was a ubiquitous television personality, collaborating
with Walt Disney on elaborate animations of a future space station and trips to the Moon and beyond.
Science fiction films
and the lurid covers of paperback novels
and pulp magazines were filled with
sleek space ships, all somehow resembling huge versions of Von Braun’s
V-2. The dawn of an American space age seemed inevitable and a
hand. If they thought at all about a
Soviet space program it was with the assurance that their science and technology
were primitive, years behind the US.
Now here were the Ruskies were, flying high over our very
heads with who knows what intentions. If
they could put up a satellite, could they bombard
the States with nukes from
space, or zap us with death rays.
In response to the uproar Eisenhower
went on TV to reassure the public
that the US would soon be back in the game.
He ordered the launch of the Vanguard I moved up. That launch failed on national television on
December 6.
Meanwhile the Army Ballistic Missile Agency was ordered to hastily revive scrapped
plans for a launch vehicle and stripped down satellite similar to Sputnik. Explorer
I a 38 lb. satellite was successfully launched on top of a Jupiter-C January 31, 1958—a least
within the promised IGY window.
Sputnik 1 had burned up upon re-entering the atmosphere on January 4 after
completing 1400 orbits. Its radio
transmitter had emitted those beeps for 22 days, long after the expected failure of the battery.
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