Chapter 74: Cape Canaveral Launch Site
In James Webber’s original plan, he was to head to the Cape Canaveral Launch Site on Florida’s East Coast just before the official launch in May, for the final mobilization and to boost the morale of the NASA staff on site.
As a non-professional, going now wouldn’t provide any suggestions.
But upon learning that this launch might have problems, he had no choice but to board the special plane to Florida with Lin Ran, his heart filled with unease.
On the morning of March 8, 1961, the sky over Cape Canaveral in Florida was just beginning to show a faint white glow, as sea breeze carrying a salty taste swept over this land.
The newly appointed NASA Director James Webber and White House Special Assistant for Aerospace Affairs Lin Ran stood at this newly built Space Launch Center. Lin Ran’s expression was calm and composed, while James Webber’s brows were tightly furrowed.
On the LC-5 Launch Pad, the Redstone Rocket towered into the clouds, with the silver-white Freedom 7 spacecraft at its top, gleaming brilliantly in the morning light.
Robert Gilruth, the actual head of the Mercury Program, accompanied them, while engineers bustled around the launch device, checking circuitry and adjusting equipment.
“Gilruth, this sight is truly spectacular.” Webber stopped, gazing at the rocket, his tone carrying a hint of emotion.
Gilruth nodded, his mouth curling slightly upward: “Director, this is the fruit of our team’s labor.
Freedom 7 has undergone over a hundred tests, and the Redstone Rocket has completed multiple unmanned launches. We’ve done our utmost to ensure everything is ready.”
Webber’s gaze fell on the booster, the Redstone Rocket’s red paint scheme particularly striking in the sunlight.
“How reliable is Freedom 7? I heard there were some minor faults in previous tests.”
“There have indeed been some hiccups,” Gilruth admitted honestly, “but we’ve improved the navigation system and reinforced the electrical connections. This time, we’re confident.”
Webber nodded slightly, though his heart was uneasy. Randolph said there was a problem, Robert Gilruth was full of confidence—who was telling the truth.
This manned spaceflight was not just a technical issue, but a symbol of national dignity.
It would also directly impact his reform plans at NASA.
While Webber was inspecting Freedom 7, Lin Ran stayed in the Launch Center’s meeting room, with detailed blueprints spread out on the table, densely packed with lines annotating every detail of the booster and spacecraft.
Launch Operations Director Kurt Debus stood by the table, his fingers lightly tapping the surface, clearly full of confidence in his work.
“Kurt, how is the electrical system?” Lin Ran asked, pointing to a section on the blueprint.
Kurt stepped forward, picked up a pencil, and pointed to the circuitry layout on the blueprint: “Professor Lin, we discovered some short-circuit risks in early tests. For that, we redesigned the circuitry, added protective devices, and simulated various extreme conditions. Now, the system’s stability has made a qualitative leap.”
Besides Kurt Debus on site, there was also Rudolf Arthur, who was in charge of the Mercury manned program’s propulsion system improvement.
So he was also there.
Rudolf Arthur was eager to improve his relationship with Lin Ran and did not want Lin Ran and James Webber to disrupt NASA’s existing vision.
So he smiled and added: “When handling the manned spacecraft, our fault troubleshooting mechanism is already sufficiently comprehensive, from system tests to data analysis to fault tree analysis, troubleshooting faults through multiple aspects.
Ensuring the astronaut can return safely.
Professor Lin, rest assured, NASA’s rigorousness and professionalism are as reliable as yours in the field of mathematics.”
Kurt’s fingers were also rubbing the edge of the blueprint, his eyes fixed on those complex lines—these were the achievements of NASA engineers and R&D personnel toiling day and night.
Lin Ran pretended not to know Rudolf Arthur, while inwardly confirming that the blueprint matched his memory exactly.
He knew very well that as long as time wasn’t altered, this launch would repeat the same mistake as in history.
Meanwhile, James Webber in the vast field was asking about the astronaut: “Gilruth, how is the astronaut’s preparation? Allen Shepard, Gus Grissom, and John Glenn—who will be the final pilot?”
“If nothing unexpected happens, it will be Allen. He’s one of the best pilots,” Gilruth answered without hesitation. “His physical fitness and mental qualities are impeccable. He knows the significance of this mission and is prepared to meet the challenge.”
Not long after, Webber met Alan Shepard, who was about to make history. Shepard was dressed in his training suit, standing tall, his face bearing the unique resolve of a soldier.
He extended his hand and shook Webber’s, the palm warm and firm.
“Allen, glad to meet you.” Webber smiled.
“Director, the honor is mine.” Shepard’s voice was low and steady.
“What do you feel about this mission?” Webber watched his eyes, trying to read more from them.
Shepard smiled: “Both excited and a bit nervous, like the first time taking off in a fighter jet. But I trust the team and Freedom 7. It will take me up and bring me back.”
Shepard was indeed professional enough.
In the original spacetime, about 2 minutes and 15 seconds after Freedom 7’s launch, the spacecraft began rolling to the left at about 1 degree per second.
The automatic control system failed to correct this problem, and the roll rate then increased to about 10 degrees per second.
Shepard switched to manual control and successfully stopped the roll.
Fortunately, Shepard was selected among these three, or Freedom 7 would definitely have turned into an accident.
Webber patted his shoulder: “You represent America’s hope. This might be live broadcast across all of America.”
Shepard nodded firmly: “I won’t let them down.”
Leaving the Control Center, James Webber and Lin Ran strolled along the streets of Cape Canaveral. What was once a desolate sandy area was now vibrant because of the Space Program.
Military bases and research facilities were densely packed, the air filled with an atmosphere of tension and excitement intertwined.
Pedestrians by the road craned their necks toward the launch pad.
After returning to the special plane, Lin Ran and James Webber sat facing each other in the helicopter.
“Professor Lin, what were the results?” James Webber asked hurriedly.
“Just as I expected, Freedom 7’s control system has a very serious unsolved problem, and they haven’t discovered it.” Lin Ran leaned in and whispered in his ear.
“We must remind them quickly!” James Webber did not want this to happen during his tenure.
The first manned spaceflight failing would be a bigger scandal than a live broadcast of a rocket explosion.
