ROCKET MAN GUS

ROCKET MAN GUS

Well, I can only tell you what I heard from Gus, himself; from the horse’s mouth so to speak. He always claimed that it were Superman that started him on his inevitable path; the DC comic book hero that captured the attention o’ the entire world. But, unlike most ever’body else, Gus weren’t interested in the super powers that enabled the Man of Steel, in the vernacular of the time, to be faster than a speeding bullet, stronger than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound’. No sir, rather, Gus was consumed by the fact that, somewhere in the vast universe, there existed a planet, Krypton, where the inhabitants, ‘though wearing strange clothing, looked ‘xactly like Earthlings and spoke the same language. Course, he knew that this were make believe but, from the moment he first read about the origins o’ Superman, Gus was entranced by the thought that, of all the many planets and stars in the solar system, actual life might, should, exist out there and, when he grew up, he wanted to be the man to discover it.

Young Gus couldn’t get enough o’ space adventures. While other boys in high school, all over America, thirsted for the latest adventures involving Batman, Flash, Green Lantern or any o’ the legion o’ super heroes, Gus moved on to Flash Gordon, whose series o’ daring deeds all took place, not on Earth, but in Outer Space. He read, and re-read, ever’ single story, scouring each picture by use of a magnifying glass in order to fully absorb the designs, shapes, sizes o’ the different means o’ transport used for interstellar transport. Even, late at night, after his parents, for the umpteenth time, had called time on his comic book reading, out would come his torch and, safely ensconced under his bedclothes, he would continue his obsession with life beyond his own world.

As Gus grew older and comics was left behind, his choice of “grown up” reading centred on novels written by such luminaries o' science fiction as Isaac Asimov or Ray Bradbury whose works featured life on other planets but it was a novel, written by a French author, Jules Verne, who had died half a century ‘fore the aforementioned writers had even existed, that truly captured the boy’s heart and soul. That book was: From the Earth to the Moon, written in 1865.

The thought that Man could conceive of a way to fly to that entity which, each night, from his bedroom window in Michigan, he could see in its many configurations, just as, all across the globe, others, too, could view the bright satellite, the only satellite, that provided illumination during the hours of darkness, controlled the tides of the oceans and, according to physicians and scientists, dictated the moods o’ so many humans, became a driving force in his life.

Back then, weren’t anybody looking to go to outer space so Gus figured, if he couldn’t fly vertically, the next best thing was to fly horizontally so he joined the newly formed U.S. Air Force and got his wings in ’51. He flew 100 missions during the war in Korea but that weren’t enough for ol’ Gus. He asked to fly another 25 but was refused.

In ’59, he received a Top Secret message to report in civilian clothes to a Washington address. Turned out that he was one of more than 500 pilots considered for the new U.S. space program and, after careful vetting, he became one of the final 7 chosen and known as the Mercury Seven. He almost lucked out on account o’ his hay fever but weren’t no way he was having that, now he knew what all the secrecy was about. He pointed out, forcefully, that there weren’t no darn pollen in outer space. No arguing with that and it seemed like Gus’s childhood obsession might just become a reality. The Cold War was peaking and the race was on between us and the Soviets to see who could get the first man into space.

That’s when I first met Gus. No sir, I was not a pilot; just a technician and mathematician, part of a team chosen to work closely with those fighter aces. We was all learning on the job, let me tell you; weren’t like there was a book or anything that told us what to do. We had to figure it all out from the very beginning. But me and Gus struck up a friendship on account o’ his previous experience as a coach builder when he was working his way through college. He knew almost as much as me ‘bout mechanical workings and we just liked discussing that sorta thing. No sir, I was a lot younger, ‘bout 8 years or so but I looked up to Gus which is a funny way o’ saying that I actually looked down on him ‘cos he was kinda small and I was tall and lanky.

Why’d I look up to him? Well, he was a man’s man, that’s why. Yes, I know, later on, when he became famous, he was also a ladies’ man. That’s true enough. But, see, we had a guy, name o’ von Braun running the show. Yes sir, Wernher von Braun, that’s the one. Well, he was German and he liked to go ‘round barking orders, expecting ever’body to jump. But ol’ Gus, he weren’t having none o’ that. No sir. He told him plain: ‘This here’s America. We don’t talk to people that way’ Later on though when all the rumours started ‘bout him being a Nazi, a member of the S.S. and had used slave labour back in Germany, things that the government denied, Gus had seen enough o’ the fella’s work to know that he was the real deal so he told ever’body: if anyone’s gonna get us into space it’s this guy.

That was Gus, see? He wanted to be the first man into space more than anything else in life and, when the Russians beat us to it with that Gargarin fella, you coulda heard a pin drop when we heard the news. We was all devastated but nobody more than Gus but, typical o’ the man, he got over it and readjusted his sights. Now he wanted to be the first American into space.

When Shephard was chosen instead, that was what hit ol’ Gus real hard. Though he was chosen as the second American, it took him a long time to get over that disappointment. He told me: ‘They only remember the first. Second is for losers’. But it were that second Mercury mission that made Gus famous throughout America.

See, when his spacecraft landed in the Atlantic, the hatch exploded causing flooding. Gus managed to get out but his spacesuit was soaking up water, causing him to struggle to stay afloat and he almost drowned. Can you imagine? A spaceman drowning! Luckily, a ship rescued him but the spacecraft sank. Anyhows, when Gus was asked at a press conference how he’d felt at that moment, he didn’t hold back and said he’d been pretty darn scared. That was in ’61. By then, 90% of Americans owned a television set so Gus’s admission was seen by most ever’body. If’n they didn’t see it, then they heard it on the radio or read ‘bout it in their newspaper. Unlike Shephard, who was a quiet kinda guy, Gus’s honest charisma captured the hearts of Americans and made him a household name, overnight.

Yes sir, you could say he was my hero. I started mimicking his ways. Well, you know, I got myself a buzz cut, started using a few expletives to emphasise a point. My family just laughed at me. Well, NASA…yes sir, the space agency was re-named NASA ‘bout 3 years ‘fore Gus’s flight. They recognised Gus’s appeal and started using him a lot. Like what? Well, you know, giving presentations to schools, newspaper interviews. That sort o’ thing. It were all designed to educate the general public 'bout space, promote corporate donations.

Gus figured, being kind o’ the face o’ the program, that he was guaranteed to get the gig for Mercury’s next venture: an actual crewed orbital flight. So, when John Glenn was named, that really shook ol’ Gus up. Glenn had only been his back up when Gus became the second American in space so nobody had seen that selection coming. Seemed like Gus was just destined not to be first.

That’s when, ever’thing just kinda spun on its head. President Kennedy made a speech that changed the entire ethos o’ NASA and captured the imagination o’ the population when he told the world, with two fingers aimed directly at Russia, that we would have a man on the Moon by the end o’ the decade.

Now, Gus saw his opportunity. The thought that he could become the very first Earthling to set foot on that illuminated ball in the sky, almost 250,000 miles away, just consumed him. This time, he told me, nothing would stop him. It was his destiny.

Only problem was that we still had to figure out how to go about it and, to be honest, we all felt that JFK had put a mighty weight of expectation on our shoulders but we soldiered on, solving one problem after another, step by step. Always though, it seemed a hopeless venture, technically, statistically and mathematically The Apollo mission was born and tasked with achieving the impossible but, just a year after his famous speech, the President was assassinated in Dallas and things kinda ground to a halt. Landing on the Moon was the last thought on a grief stricken nation’s mind.

Still, LBJ had little choice but to continue to support the mission and, slowly but surely, things got back on track. Ever’body worked their butts off but Gus was at the forefront of ever’thing, working exhausting hours, involving himself in ever’ single detail of the first flight: Apollo 1. Those in authority really had no choice other than to choose Gus to command the module; there just weren’t anybody more qualified. Gus was ecstatic for, though this mission would be a low orbit of Earth, his selection put him firmly in pole position to command the eventual Moon launch.

I won’t sugarcoat it though, there was problems; lots of ‘em. And, being Gus, he weren’t slow to voice his opinion, forcefully. See, people think that NASA employees actually build these rockets but that ain’t the case. We design, calculate and calibrate but contractors actually build the things. And, like all government projects, these jobs are put out to tender with the award going to the lowest bidder. That never made no sense to me and it sure in hell didn’t add up for Gus. Why entrust the success of the greatest adventure in the history o’ mankind, not to mention, the lives o’ the three man crew, to a company that had no previous experience and was working to the tightest o’ budgets?

I can’t recall a day when ol’ Gus didn’t blow a fuse during the various planning stages and, every darn time, he was in the right. After careful perusal, Director, Deke Slayton, would pass on the faults that Gus had pointed out to the contractor. They would then do their own assessment, sometimes arguing a point, more often than not, conceding, and, after some back and forth, would schedule a date when they would dispatch somebody to fix the problem. As you can imagine, progress was real slow.

What kind o’ things? Well, sir, there was wires just ‘bout ever’where. Blue wires, green, yellow, red, white, you name it; ever’ colour wire you can think of; twisted, wound, single stranded, double and treble coiled. It were a holy mess. Neither Gus nor his co-astronauts, Ed and Roger, could move for cables and chords. If’n they pulled any one of ‘em loose, it could have cut the power to who knew what. In an effort to tidy up this electronic mess, they used velcro to cover many o’ the wires up but, after that, there was velcro strips ever’where you looked. And velcro is very combustible. As you can surely understand, Gus was raging. Seemed like ever' day, he and Slayton was at loggerheads. Another huge problem was communication; the static was so bad that it were almost impossible for the flight crew to hear what the command centre was telling ‘em and vice versa.

January 27th 1967, a date etched in my memory 'til the day I die, ’bout a month ‘fore the Apollo 1 launch, NASA ordered a simulation; a dry run. By that time, Gus had complained so much that most ever’body was calling him Gruff Gus behind his back. Not me though on account of I knew he were right; not a thing in that darn ship was how it should be. Things got so tense that there was a real danger o’ him either being pulled and replaced by a backup or Gus just walking voluntarily. But I knew that his lifelong dream would prevent him from quitting.

Five hours they was in that module. Test after test. Darn wires were ever’where. Right below Gus’s seat, it were like a nest o’ snakes. As for the velcro, there were ten times the recommended limit. Apollo 1 was a death trap. There was no fire fighters on duty either. Why not? Well, it were just a simulation.

Communication was still bad as ever. We could hear Gus grumbling away: ‘How are we gonna get to the Moon if we can’t talk between two or three buildings?’ Yes sir, he might’ve thrown in an expletive or two. Next thing we heard him yell: ‘Fire!’

And that was that. They had no chance to escape, the entire module just ignited, burnt to a crisp. The heat were so intense that Ed and Roger was fused together. Can you imagine? They was all dead ‘fore you could say boo. But it weren’t the fire that killed ‘em. No sir. Leastways, that’s what the investigations stated and there was a few o’ those. They all said the plastic tubing that fed their oxygen just melted instantly, meaning they was breathing pure toxins within seconds. Asphyxiation!

Broke my heart. Yes sir. Heads rolled alright but I resigned. Yes sir, I saw Armstrong walk on the Moon but from my home TV set. Leastways, what they claimed was him walking on the Moon. No sir, I do not believe they coulda fixed all those problems in just two years. That’s all I’m saying but I guess miracles can happen and pigs can fly. One thing’s for sure, none o’ the others, least of all, Neil Armstrong, could hold a candle to Gus Grisham. Rocket Man Gus, those of us in the know called him. The best o’ the best!