MAN HIGH 50TH ANNIVERSARY
The photo is the cover of a new book on Project Man High by Gregory P. Kennedy, Philadelphia, who has dedicated considerable time and effort to what he calls the “Balloon Borne Ancestors of Space Flight.”
The book, Touching Space: The Story of Project Manhigh, is scheduled for August release and at least a few copies may be in print in time for unveiling at the Man High Celebration August 17—19 in Crosby, Minnesota. It will retail for $24.95 and will be available from the publisher, www.schifferbooks.com, as well as at book stores. The book’s ISBN designation is ISBN:978-0-7643-2788-9 and it is A Schiffer Military History Book.
Greg Kennedy will be in Crosby for the celebration. He has long been involved in the history of flight, and met Dr. David Simons when Greg was director of the International Space Hall of Fame in Alamogordo, N.M. He has been involved with helicopters as well as other methods of air transportation and is known on the Internet as Ripcord2K, thanks to his interest in skydiving. (He says he doesn’t do as much of that as he did at one time.)
Among his long-term interests, as indicated by his new book, is ballooning. That interest also resulted in a 16-page paper on “Balloon Borne Ancestors of Space Flight.” It is a valuable addition to the history of the early beginnings of space exploration and the men who worked against great odds to realize dreams that at the time seemed impossible. (See below)
One local spectator at the launch of Man High II admits he came away thinking the big balloon was somebody’s “hobby”—and that it would never work!
Balloon Borne Ancestors of Space Flight
by
Gregory P. Kennedy
Introduction
Flights with sealed, pressurized gondolas to protect against the hazards of the stratosphere began in the 1930s. These gondolas can be considered the antecedents of modern spacecraft. They had to provide a breathable atmosphere at an adequate pressure; contain provisions for removing carbon dioxide from the cabin environment; and provide some means of temperature control.
Where Does Space Begin?
The air we breathe is a mixture of 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen and 1% other gases. At sea level, the weight of the atmosphere is great enough to exert a pressure of 14.7 pounds per square inch. Air pressure decreases with altitude. At 10,000 feet, it is only 10.1 pounds per square inch; at 36,000 feet, where the stratosphere begins, just 3.3 pounds per square inch. This reduced pressure means there is less oxygen to take in with every breath.
Lack of oxygen causes hypoxia, an oxygen deficiency in the body's tissues. As atmospheric pressure decreases, the severity of hypoxia's effects on the body increases. At 10,000 feet, the effects are usually no worse than loss of night vision. With increased altitude, effects may include drowsiness, poor judgment, and decreased coordination. At extreme altitudes, hypoxia can cause convulsions, unconsciousness, and death.
Reduced atmospheric pressure lowers the boiling point of water, which also has significant implications for high altitude flights.
In 1951, Dr. Hubertus Strughold of the Air Force School of Aviation Medicine developed the concept of "space equivalence." He realized there is no definite demarcation where the atmosphere ends and space begins. Rather, as altitude increases there are gradations where an unprotected body experiences different physical effects.
One of these occurs around 50,000 feet, where atmospheric pressure equals the pressure of water vapor and carbon dioxide in the lungs. With regard to respiration, a person at this altitude would be in the functional equivalent of outer space. To survive beyond this altitude, oxygen must be provided under pressure. The next demarcation occurs at 63,000 feet, where water boils at 98.6o Fahrenheit. Above this point, bodily fluids would begin to vaporize, so some sort of pressurized garment or sealed capsule must be used.
The significance of Strughold's observation was that, from the effects on the human body, the functional equivalent of outer space begins at altitudes of only 10 to 12 miles. Therefore, from a physiological perspective, stratospheric pilots in balloons might as well have been in outer space.
Cosmic Radiation
French scientist Antoine Henri Becquerel discovered radiation in 1896 when he left a piece of uranium on a photographic plate. Soon, other scientists learned radiation was all around us, but its source remained a mystery. Victor Hess began a series of experiments in 1911 to study this mysterious radiation. First using radiation detectors on top of the Eiffel Tower, then aboard balloons, he found the radiation levels increased as he ascended. After more experiments, Hess concluded this radiation came from outer space. These were eventually termed “cosmic rays” or “cosmic radiation.”
At the time, there were no particle accelerators or nuclear reactors, and scientists believed “cosmic rays” offered the key to unlocking the secrets of the atom and promised a new source of power. The problem was the atmosphere absorbed much of this radiation, so studying it required flying to great heights, into the layer of the atmosphere called the “stratosphere.” As it turned out, balloons were the best vehicles for ascending to the stratosphere where cosmic radiation could be studied.
Professor Auguste Piccard
Professor Auguste Piccard of the University of Brussels was the first person to use a sealed capsule for high altitude flight. Piccard was interested in studying cosmic radiation. On May 27, 1931, he and his assistant Paul Kipfer reached an altitude of 52,777 feet. For the flight, Piccard designed a spherical aluminum capsule. Piccard named his balloon “FNRS,” after the Belgian "Fonds National de la Recherche Scientifique" (National Scientific Research Fund), which sponsored his flight.
Piccard chose a sphere because it provided the greatest volume relative to its size; aluminum because of its light weight. Piccard pressurized his capsule to maintain a sea-level atmosphere. He studied the oxygen systems used on submarines and incorporated a modified "Dräeger" system built for U-boats. Beds of soda lime in the Dräeger apparatus absorbed carbon dioxide in the cabin atmosphere. Liquid oxygen was allowed to vaporize at a controlled rate to compensate for what was consumed. The system processed about 20 gallons of air per minute.
For thermal control, Piccard painted one side of the sphere black, the other white. A fan mounted on a pole would let him rotate the capsule to achieve the desired cabin temperature.
Just before takeoff, a strong gust of wind pulled the capsule from its cradle, denting the bottom of the sphere so that an electrical probe could not be placed in an opening in the base. Without the probe in place, air leaked out of the cabin throughout the ascent. Piccard managed to plug the leak just before they reached their peak altitude. After conducting some observations of cosmic radiation, Piccard and Kipfer decided to land. To descend, Piccard had to open a valve in the top of the balloon. He discovered the rope that controlled the valve became “hopelessly tangled” when the capsule bounced out of the cradle. The FNRS would have to remain aloft until night, when the balloon would cool and descend on its own.
The FNRS carried enough oxygen to last 12 hours, but the leak had depleted the supply. Running out of oxygen became a very real threat. They had another problem, too – the cabin temperature reached 104o F. Unfortunately the fan that was supposed to rotate the capsule would not work and it remained with the black side facing the Sun. Air began leaking again as the gaskets around the hatch softened from the heat.
Piccard and Kipfer could do little except sit in silence and wonder if they would survive the flight. Finally sunset came, the balloon cooled, and it began to descend. The FNRS landed on a glacier in the Austrian Tyrol. The next morning they hiked to the nearest village where Piccard sent a telegram to his wife to let her know he was safe.
Auguste Piccard returned to the stratosphere on August 18, 1932, and established another ballooning record when he reached 53,152 feet with physicist Max Cosyns. This time, Piccard painted the gondola all white, which reflected too much heat and it was very cold in the cabin. Other than this minor discomfort, the 7-hour flight went smoothly from the takeoff In Zurich, Switzerland, to the landing near Lake Garda in Italy. In one amusing note, Kifer, who was on the ground, mistook the planet Venus for the FNRS and tried to follow the wrong object in the sky.
“A Century of Progress”
In the United States, organizers of the 1933 Chicago World's Fair Exposition, "A Century of Progress," invited Auguste Piccard to make an ascent from the fair grounds. Auguste had an identical twin brother, Jean, who lived in the United States. Auguste first agreed to the Chicago flight, but withdrew because he wanted to return to Belgium and help Cosyns prepare for another flight. Auguste suggested that Jean make the flight instead.
Jean supervised construction of the gondola. Dow Metal Company in Midland, Michigan agreed to donate the capsule shell. Instead of aluminum, they used a much lighter magnesium alloy they called “Dowmetal.” The seven-foot diameter sphere weighed just 196 pounds, one-third less than a comparable size aluminum shell would have weighed. At Piccard’s behest, an air regeneration unit like the one used in the FNRS capsule was purchased from Dräegerwerke. The Goodyear Zeppelin Company built the balloon.
Jean Piccard eagerly anticipated reaching the stratosphere like his brother, but friction had developed between he and the fair’s organizers. They selected Navy balloonist Lt. Commander Thomas G. W. "Tex" Settle to pilot the balloon. Settle attempted a solo flight from the fair grounds on August 5, 1933, that ended when the balloon landed in a railroad yard a few blocks away. The hydrogen vent valve in the top of the balloon had stuck open. The launch crew, under the command of Marine Corps Major Chester L. Fordney, secured the landing area and protected the balloon.
Determined to try again, Settle decided he needed a copilot because there was simply too much for one person to do during launch. Piccard again hoped for a seat in the gondola, but Settle chose Major Fordney to accompany him into the stratosphere.
By the time everything could be prepared for another attempt, the Chicago Exposition was over. However, it was decided to proceed with the flight anyway, from the Goodyear Zeppelin Company plant in Akron, Ohio. Settle and Fordney made their ascent on November 20, 1933. They set an official altitude record of 61,237 feet. Settle and Fordney landed in a marsh near Bridgeton, New Jersey, late that night.
Jean Piccard finally got a chance to reach the stratosphere, along with his wife Jeanette, who was a licensed balloonist. Piccard secured the title to the “Century of Progress” gondola and balloon and found sponsors among businesses and citizens of Dearborn, Michigan. Mr. and Mrs. Piccard took off from the Ford Airport at Dearborn on October 23, 1934. The pair landed in some trees near Cadiz, Ohio, after reaching 57,979 feet, making Mrs. Piccard the first woman to venture into the stratosphere.
The Army/National Geographic Society Explorer Flights
The United States Army and the National Geographic Society jointly sponsored two balloon flights, Explorers I and II. Both flights took off from a natural depression near Rapid City, South Dakota, that became known as the “Stratobowl.” Several hundred feet deep, the Stratobowl protected the balloons from winds that might whip them around before launch.
Shortly after noon on July 28, 1934, Major William E. Kepner, Captain Orvil A. Anderson, and Captain Albert W. Stevens reached 60,613 feet in Explorer I. Inside the gondola, it was 42o Fahrenheit despite an outside temperature of 80o below zero. Learning from Auguste Piccard's experiences, the Explorer gondola was painted white on top and black on the bottom, which provided much better temperature control. The capsule was 7 feet in diameter and was made from Dowmetal, the same magnesium alloy used for “A Century of Progress.”
The trio were within 624 feet of the mark set by Settle and Fordney, and had every confidence they would establish a new record, when a tear appeared in the balloon. Explorer dropped quickly and the aeronauts' descent was out of control as the bag disintegrated and eventually exploded. Barely half a mile above the ground, they abandoned the craft. Major Kepner was last to jump, opening his parachute only seconds before the capsule hit the earth with a terrific thud. All three pilots landed nearby, shaken but safe.
By the winter of 1935, the Army and National Geographic Society were ready to try again. Since the original Explorer capsule was destroyed, a new one had to be built. Dowmetal was again the material of choice. Explorer II was much roomier than its predecessor; it was nine feet in diameter. Contributing to the sense of spaciousness, Explorer II had a crew of only two -- Captains Anderson and Stevens.
Anderson and Stevens replenished the cabin atmosphere with a mixture of 45% liquid oxygen and 55% liquid nitrogen. The liquefied gases vaporized at a controlled rate and a manually set vent valve maintained a cabin pressure equivalent to 13,000 feet. Sodium hydroxide absorbed carbon dioxide.
To avoid another explosion like the one that nearly killed the first Explorer aeronauts, Explorer II used helium. While it was safer, it did not have quite the same lifting potential as hydrogen, so the Explorer II balloon was truly gigantic, with a volume of 3.7 million cubic feet. It weighed 6,500 pounds, comprised nearly 3 acres of fabric, and took 1,685 cylinders of helium to inflate.
Lift off occurred at 7:01 a.m., Mountain Standard Time, on November 11, 1935. At 11:40 a.m., Explorer II settled out at 72,395 feet. Around noon, Stevens and Anderson began their descent. In preparation for landing, the pilots donned leather football helmets loaned to them by the Rapid City High School team. They landed in a field near White Lake, South Dakota. Their flight had lasted 8 hours, 13 minutes.
Explorer II represented the practical limit for a balloon made from rubberized fabric. To venture higher, new materials were needed. During 1935, Jean Felix Piccard, working with Dr. Thomas Johnson of the Bartol Research Foundation of the Franklin Institute, constructed and flew a cellophane balloon at Swarthmore, Pennsylvania. The following year, Piccard built the first constant level balloons from cellophane, launching them from the University of Minnesota stadium.
Constant level balloons are open at the bottom so once the lifting gas fully inflates the container, any excess simply vents overboard. The balloon will then fly at a more or less constant altitude.
Project Helios
After World War II, Jean Piccard, who was then with the University of Minnesota, proposed another piloted stratospheric balloon flight. Otto Winzen, chief engineer for the Minnesota Tool and Manufacturing Corporation, agreed to work with him. They approached the United States Navy with a proposal they called "Pleiades II." (Before the War, Piccard had developed a low-altitude clustered balloon aerostat he called Pleiades.) Pleiades II would use a spherical capsule carried to an altitude of 100,000 feet by a cluster of cellophane balloons. The Navy created a Technical Committee under the leadership of Commander George Hoover at the Office of Naval Research (ONR) to manage the effort, which they renamed "Helios."
Realizing the limitations of cellophane, Winzen and Piccard sought a better balloon material. They needed a material that was lightweight, inexpensive, and strong. It had to remain flexible in the frigid upper atmosphere and be relatively unaffected by ultraviolet radiation. Finally, a suitable material was found: polyethylene. Available in very thin sheets, it remained pliable over a wide temperature range, was unaffected by ultraviolet radiation, and cost a fraction of what rubberized fabric did.
Because of its proximity to the University of Minnesota, Piccard asked General Mills to build the Helios capsule. It was a 7-foot, 2-inch diameter sphere, made from eight segments of 1/8-inch thick aluminum. Jean Piccard based the Helios design on the capsules used by his brother Auguste in the 1930s. Shortly after work started on Helios, Winzen went to work for General Mills and led the team that designed their first plastic balloon.
Winzen's first plastic balloon, which he launched on September 25, 1947, had a volume of 30,000 cubic feet. He felt 200,000 cubic foot balloons were a realistic goal, but this was still inadequate for Helios. Helios would need a cluster of balloons totaling 14 million cubic feet to reach an altitude of 100,000 feet. In other words, Helios would need at least 70 balloons! Realizing the impossibility of trying to launch such an unwieldy cluster, the Navy canceled Helios in late 1947. General Mills had already finished the capsule shell, which was placed in storage.
The ONR asked Winzen to instead concentrate on building large individual balloons. This endeavor became known as "Skyhook." Winzen left General Mills in 1948 and started his own company, Winzen Research, Inc. (WRI). Winzen Research received its first order, dated January 5, 1949, from the NYU College of Engineering, who was working on an Air Force project code named “Mogul.“ The Air Force wanted to use constant level balloons to loft instruments that could monitor Soviet missile and atomic tests.
Early Air Force Interest
Most of the early Air Force balloon flights were made from Holloman Air Force Base in Southern New Mexico, near Alamogordo. Researchers began flying biological payloads, usually mice or hamsters, aboard Skyhook balloons in 1950 to study what effects, if any, cosmic radiation had on living organisms.
Initially, Holloman supported the biological flights on an ad hoc basis. But, as the pace of activities increased, so did the demands for support. To meet the needs of the growing space biology program the Air Research and Development Command created the "Aeromedical Field Laboratory" (AMFL) at Holloman in mid-1951. A few months after its creation, Lieutenant Colonel John Paul Stapp assumed command of the AMFL. Major David G. Simons, M. D., became the chief scientist at the AMFL. Although Stapp is best remembered for his rocket sled work, he was no stranger to balloon projects.
While assigned to the Aero Medical Laboratory at Wright Patterson, he proposed a manned balloon ascent to 100,000 feet. Lieutenant Edward G. Sperry picked up on the idea and issued a formal Request for Proposal (RFP). Otto Winzen responded on October 13, 1952, with a proposal based largely on his Helios work. Winzen proposed to use the Helios shell that was on exhibit at the Naval Air Station in Lakehurst, New Jersey. Two months later, Winzen submitted a nearly identical proposal to Commander Hoover at the ONR. Again, he suggested using the Helios shell. Neither service acted on Winzen's ideas at that time.
The expanding space biology flights required the development of a specialized capsule. Built by the University of Minnesota for the AMFL, the capsule comprised a 27-inch diameter insulated aluminum sphere. The capsule first flew on August 23, 1951, with a group of hamsters. It was suspended from the balloon via an open parachute. Because the parachute was already open, it was virtually guaranteed to work when released from the balloon. A mechanical timer triggered parachute release at the desired time.
Project Manhigh
By 1955, it seemed to Colonel Stapp that the animal flights had returned about as much data as they could, and it was time to progress to something else. Calling Simons into his office, he asked: "Well Dave, are you ready to try a manned flight?" Simons thought for a moment then answered yes. One factor affecting Simons' decision was that he quickly calculated building a capsule large enough to sustain a human pilot would be a relatively straightforward task.
Life support capacity in the biological capsules was expressed in terms of the smallest animal flown, which was a mouse. Simons had already flown capsules with life support capacities of 200 "mouse units." A human worked out to about 500 mouse units, so they only had to increase the life support capacity by a factor of two and a half.
Cutting one of the spherical capsules in half and inserting a six-foot cylinder between the hemispheres would create a capsule large enough to hold a human pilot. In mid-1955, Simons, Stapp, and Winzen agreed on an approach and forwarded the idea to the Air Research and Development Command (ARDC). Simons justified the work as contributing to the design of a manned space vehicle. This became known as Project Manhigh. The goal of Manhigh was to place a pilot in a sealed capsule above 100,000 feet for a 24-hour flight. At such an altitude, the capsule would be above 99% of the atmosphere and well within the realm of “space equivalence” as described by Dr. Hubertus Strughold.
The Manhigh capsule was eight feet high and three feet in diameter. Made from aluminum, the shell comprised three separate sections: the upper dome, turret and lower shell. Most of the major systems were suspended from the turret. Six portholes, including one the pilot could open, were built into the turret. A tubular aluminum frame attached to the outside of the lower shell supported the capsule in an upright position before launch. This structure also doubled as a shock-absorbing system for landing. Lead acid aircraft batteries mounted on the external frame powered the capsule’s systems. Equipped with individual parachutes, these batteries (which weighed 50 pounds each) could be dropped as ballast when expended.
The black and white paint patterns on earlier stratospheric gondolas were adequate for passive temperature control only during daylight hours. Since Manhigh was intended to remain aloft for 24 hours, an active thermal control system was needed. Because the electronic equipment inside the cabin and the pilot himself produced heat, Winzen concluded no heating system was needed.
Rather, the problem became one of trying to cool the capsule.
An elegantly simple system that relied on boiling water had been developed for the animal capsules some years earlier. As atmospheric pressure decreases, so does the boiling point of water. Manhigh carried a container of water that boiled when vented to the outside atmosphere. The steam carried excess cabin heat with it. The major disadvantage of this system was that it only worked at high altitudes. To keep the cabin (and pilot) cool prior to launch and during the initial ascent, a cap of dry ice was placed on top of the upper dome.
The pilot breathed a mixture of 60% oxygen, 20% nitrogen and 20% helium. Pure oxygen was rejected because of the fire hazard. Nitrogen, which normally comprises about two-thirds of the atmosphere at sea level, presented hazards of another sort. If there were a sudden decompression, nitrogen dissolved in the pilot's blood stream could bubble out, causing the "bends." Adding helium to the capsule atmosphere reduced the risks of fire and the bends. The pilot wore a standard Air Force MC-3 partial pressure suit in case of sudden pressure loss.
A 5-liter capacity bottle carried enough liquid oxygen to last 48 hours. There was an emergency oxygen supply in a cylinder under the pilot's seat and a bailout supply in a small bottle attached to the pilot's parachute harness. A three-step chemical "air-regeneration unit" removed carbon dioxide and water vapor from the cabin air. Air first passed through bags of lithium chloride to remove moisture before it reached packets of lithium hydroxide, which absorbed carbon dioxide. The final step in the process was to circulate the air through magnesium perchlorate to remove any remaining moisture. A single regulator controlled pressure and oxygen content. In case the automatic system failed, the pilot had a manually operated valve that admitted a constant flow of oxygen.
The pilot had two communications systems. The primary system for was a VHF transceiver for voice communications. If the voice system failed, he could use the telemetry transmitter to communicate via morse code. Normally, this transmitter broadcast biotelemetry data from the pilot.
Manhigh began with six unmanned and animal flights to test launch techniques, life support system performance, balloon performance and recovery methods. Colonies of small animals in the capsule placed the same demands on the life support system as a human pilot. No mockup capsule was built; all tests were conducted with the actual gondola.
While the engineers tested the capsule, the first two Manhigh pilots underwent training. Major Simons, as chief scientist, intended to make the ascent. Captain Joseph W. Kittinger, a pilot from Holloman's Flight Test Division, trained as his back up. Kittinger had flown for Colonel Stapp on earlier experiments and, after hearing of the project in 1955, volunteered.
Stapp and Simons listed the skills that could be necessary on a flight and structured the program accordingly. Their training included at least one parachute jump; balloon training leading to a balloonist's license; 24-hour claustrophobia tests in the capsule; a low-pressure, low temperature simulated flight in a test chamber; and a battery of physiological examinations.
Manhigh was never generously funded and, knowing the limited nature of the budget, Simons intended to perform the 24-hour scientific mission after the six test flights. Stapp did not feel that was prudent. He told Simons: "Animal tests are fine, Dave, but I don't think that's enough. The animals did nothing up there but breathe, eat, and defecate. They didn't talk on the radio or shift around in a 180-pound mass or fidget in a pressure suit or try to grab scientific observations out of those saucer-sized portholes, or do any of the things you will have to do when you go up. To put the Manhigh system up now for a full-scale flight without at least one manned test flight first would be like trying to send a new fighter plane into combat without wringing the bugs out of it." Since the capsule was still untested in an actual manned flight, Stapp did not want to risk the project's chief scientist, so he directed that Kittinger pilot Manhigh I.
Kittinger took off at 6:23 a.m. on June 2, 1957. About two hours into the mission, he reached 97,000 feet and reported his oxygen tank was only half full. Since this was supposed to be a 12-hour test flight, ground controllers ordered him to descend immediately. Manhigh I landed in Indian Creek near Weaver, Minnesota, a little past noon. The oxygen tank, which was supposed to contain enough oxygen to last 48 hours, was empty because of an improperly installed pressure controller.
Major Simons piloted the second Manhigh flight on August 19 - 20, 1957. He climbed 101,516 feet above the Earth using a 3-million cubic foot balloon. Simons was the first person to see a sunset and a sunrise from the edge of space. During the night, a thunderstorm developed beneath him. At one point, the balloon cooled enough for him to descend into the upper fringes of the thunderhead! Dropping ballast, he rose to a safe altitude.
After dawn, the storm stalled and remained between his aerostat and the ground. In those early morning hours, carbon dioxide began to build up in the cabin and Simons had to breathe oxygen through his pressure suit. The storm finally cleared in the afternoon and Simons began the long journey back. He landed at 5:32 that evening. His flight had lasted 32 hours and 10 minutes.
Simons was immediately catapulted into the limelight. He appeared on the cover of the September 2, 1957, issue of Life magazine and his personal account of Manhigh II was the lead story. Manhigh II was hailed as an amazing adventure on the road to space. Just six weeks after Simons' flight, an even more stunning achievement overshadowed Manhigh. On October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union launched the world's first artificial satellite. Named Sputnik, the satellite circled the earth every 96 minutes. A month later, the Soviets launched a second Sputnik, this one carrying a dog!
American reaction to the Sputnik successes included the National Aeronautics and Space Act of 1958 that created the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) and the National Defense Education Act, which provided federal funding for science and mathematics education. As part of the Air Force response, Brigadier General Don Flickinger of the Air Research and Development Command (ARDC) told Simons to prepare for a third Manhigh flight. By that time, Stapp had been promoted and transferred to Wright Patterson Air Force Base as head of the Aero Medical Laboratory; Lieutenant Colonel Rufus Hessberg took his place at Holloman.
Winzen Research built a new capsule for Manhigh III that incorporated many changes. The air regeneration system was completely redesigned. Instead of having three separate chemicals to remove moisture and carbon dioxide from the cabin atmosphere, Manhigh III used a single chemical system. A blower circulated cabin air through a canister filled with potassium hydroxide, which absorbed both moisture and carbon dioxide.
Like its predecessor, Manhigh III was covered with Mylar, but it was painted white. Manhigh's designers believed this passive technique would keep the capsule cool and they removed the water core heat exchanger. Another major departure from previous Manhigh protocols was that this capsule was not test flown with animals; the first time it left the ground it carried a human pilot.
Selecting a pilot for the third flight proved problematical. Anticipating that Manhigh might serve as a template for future manned space missions, General Flickinger suggested that candidates be screened to meet the qualifications anticipated for future space pilots. The screening process included an interview to determine motivation and scientific background; a four-day medical evaluation at the Lovelace Clinic in Albuquerque, New Mexico; and a 24-hour test to observe each candidate's response to confinement in the Manhigh capsule. Further evaluations included a full day of tests by a clinical psychologist, psychiatric interviews and a session in a soundproof, unlighted chamber. Stress testing included centrifuge runs, one hour in a "hot box" (155o F. and 85% humidity) and a "cold presser" test that comprised immersion of the subject's feet in ice water while his pulse and blood pressure were monitored. Despite the focus on space flight screening, each candidate still had to complete one parachute jump and balloon training like Kittinger and Simons.
Initially, Otto Winzen and one of the project officers from the AMFL were considered. Winzen was eliminated from consideration in June, so Captain Grover Schock was nominated for the flight. With the further elimination of the unnamed AMFL officer, Schock became primary pilot; Captain Harry Collins, an Air Force parachutist, became backup. First Lieutenant Clifton McClure also underwent the grueling series of physical and psychological tests for Manhigh and passed.
In August 1958, Schock and Winzen were critically injured during a training flight. Collins became the primary pilot and McClure became his backup. By the time McClure finished his balloon training, Collins had also been eliminated due to high cholesterol levels, so the 25-year old Lieutenant was the primary pilot. McClure had a master’s degree in ceramics engineering.
Time was critical for the flight because the ARDC instructed the AMFL to finish Manhigh as soon as possible. By the autumn of 1958, President Eisenhower had assigned piloted space flights to the brand new civilian space agency, so there were no compelling reasons for the Air Force to continue Manhigh. With the hardware already paid for, the ARDC allowed the program to proceed, as long as it could be concluded quickly.
McClure qualified for a balloonist's license on September 28. Project meteorologist Duke Gildenberg predicted there was only a negligible chance they would have satisfactory weather any time during the entire next month. Rather than risk having the ARDC cancel Manhigh III, Hessberg and Simons moved it to Holloman. New Mexico was too far south to gather any significant cosmic ray data, but the flight could still serve as a control to judge the effects of the other flights. It could also serve as a model for future space flights because McClure was to be guided in his observations by a panel of experts on the ground.
Early on the morning of October 7, McClure sat in the capsule, ready for flight. By the time launch preparations were finished, the morning winds had started. Just ten minutes before launch, the three-million cubic foot balloon began whipping around, finally careening into the ground. There was a gentle, almost imperceptible "pop" as the bag tore. Winzen had only manufactured two balloons to manned flight specifications for the project -- now only one was left.
Everyone agreed to try again the next day. That night, McClure boarded the capsule a little past midnight. Just like Kittinger and Simons, he had a personal parachute in the cabin. This parachute hung from the capsule support structure. With all the handling and jostling the parachute had received during the past few days, the closing pins had worked themselves loose. About three hours after he boarded the capsule, McClure brushed against the parachute and it popped open "with a muffled flump." Finding his lap full of fabric, he faced a serious dilemma.
McClure did not know if the balloon had already been laid out for inflation. The balloons were so fragile they couldn’t be repacked once they were unrolled. If they opened the capsule and had an Air Force Rigger repack the parachute, it would delay the flight for several hours by which time the winds would have picked up like the day before. Rather than risk aborting the mission by reporting the open parachute, he remained silent and repacked it inside the capsule.
It was difficult, tedious work in the three-foot diameter capsule, but McClure finally closed the parachute container. Pausing to examine his handiwork, he discovered he had inserted the pins backwards. Before repacking the canopy, he’d vowed that he’d only make the flight if it were properly packed. McClure pulled the ripcord and repeated the task. This time he secured the container properly. The process had been very taxing and he was perspiring heavily.
Normal flight preparations included placing a cap of dry ice on top of the capsule before launch to keep the pilot cool. This time, though, someone had forgotten to have the dry ice on hand. During the previous day’s launch attempt, McClure reported feeling cold, so the feeling was it probably wasn’t necessary. Without the added cooling of the dry ice, he continued to perspire.
Potassium hydroxide reacts with moisture to produce heat, and McClure was perspiring so heavily he saturated the air that was blown through the regeneration unit. The unit soon began blowing hot, moist air into the cabin. Compounding the problem, without the water core cooling system that had been present in the earlier capsule, there was no way to dissipate the heat at altitude.
McClure took off at 6:51, about six hours after he boarded the capsule. As he climbed past 24,000 feet, he reported the temperature in the capsule was 89o Fahrenheit. At 55,000 feet, the cabin temperature gauge read 94o. Everyone agreed something was wrong with the gauge; the capsule temperature couldn't possibly be that high so the flight proceeded. About 10:00, he reached the ceiling altitude of 99,700 feet.
Around 1:00, it became evident that something was seriously wrong. McClure's speech was sluggish and his pulse rate was up to 140 beats per minute. There was no telemetry for the pilot's body temperature; he had to report that verbally to the ground. Asked about his temperature, McClure replied it was 101o. A half-hour later, it was up to 102.3o. Measuring the cabin temperature with a mercury thermometer, he reported it was 96o!
An hour later, McClure reported his temperature was 103.4o. Hessberg ordered him to descend immediately. By 3:00, McClure had only descended a few thousand feet and had not yet established a steady descent rate. His temperature was up to 104.1o. Another hour passed, by which time McClure had established a descent rate of 500 feet per minute but he was still at 87,000 feet.
Hessberg considered cutting the capsule away from the balloon and bringing it down with the parachute, but there was a strong chance it would land in the rugged San Andres Mountains. For the time being, Hessberg let McClure retain control of the descent, although his pulse was approaching 180 beats per minute. McClure began seeing shimmering green splotches, even when his eyes were closed.
During the descent, McClure dropped an instrument that jammed the foot switch that controlled his voice communications. Unable to reach it, McClure could no longer transmit to the ground. After that, the command group couldn't know for sure if McClure was even conscious, but the descent proceeded smoothly and his pulse rate remained steady, so they refrained from cutting the capsule away from the balloon.
A little past sunset, Manhigh III landed on a level area of desert only a few miles from the takeoff point. With perfect timing, McClure released the balloon just as the capsule touched down. The capsule remained upright, the only one of the three flights to do so. McClure released the upper dome and began to climb out on his own. His pulse rate was 180 beats per minute; his temperature an incredible 108.5o! Although most of the original scientific objectives for Manhigh III were unmet, the flight stands as a testament to the power of human motivation and will.
The Navy Strato Lab
At around the same time the Air Force approved Manhigh, the Navy renewed their interest in manned stratospheric balloons. In 1954, the ONR appointed an advisory panel to review proposals they had received for manned balloon projects. The resulting program was named "Strato Lab" and Winzen Research received the contract to build the gondola. To save money, Otto Winzen convinced the Navy to let him refurbish and modify the Helios shell.
Strato Lab had two inward opening hatches mounted in flat frames. Having two hatches made normal entry and exit easier and facilitated rapid exit in case of an emergency. Simple air pressure sealed the hatches. Within the cabin, a pressure equivalent to 17,000 feet was maintained. When the balloon ascended beyond that altitude, the pressure difference between the inside and outside atmospheres forced the hatches against their frames. A silicone O-ring around the outer diameter of each hatch created a pressure-tight seal. During descent, the hatches opened automatically.
Strato Lab used a two-gas atmosphere supplied by two separate cryogenic systems. One contained five liters of a mixture of 50% liquid oxygen and 50% liquid nitrogen. The second five-liter converter contained only liquid oxygen. It provided an auxiliary supply for emergency cabin pressurization and supplied oxygen to the pilots' pressure suits. Together, these provided a 72-hour oxygen supply for two pilots. Lithium hydroxide and lithium chloride removed carbon dioxide and water vapor, respectively, from the cabin atmosphere. A fan forced cabin air through a cabinet that contained the chemicals. Air pressure inside the cabin was automatically maintained by a pressure regulator built by the Firewel Company in Buffalo, New York. As a back up to the cabin life support system, the pilots wore Air Force MC-3 partial pressure suits.
The gondola had nine windows, sealed with 3/4-inch Plexiglas. A black and white paint scheme like that used on Explorer II provided passive thermal control for Strato Lab. Fans inside the cabin blew air over either the warm lower half or cooler upper half, depending on the inside temperature.
Strato Lab was suspended from the balloon via an open 64-foot diameter nylon cargo parachute. Despite the tremendous strides that had been made in balloon reliability, occasional failures still occurred so the parachute was necessary. Also, if the crew were incapacitated, ground control could cut away the gondola. If both the balloon and cargo parachute failed, the pilots had personal parachutes.
Strato Lab included flights in the pressurized gondola and open baskets. Lieutenant Commanders Malcolm D. Ross and M. Lee Lewis made the first manned flight of the Strato Lab program in an open gondola. They ascended to 40,000 feet on August 10, 1956, to photograph condensation trails from jet aircraft. Secondary objectives were to make physiological measurements of the pilots and test their pressure suits.
Ross and Lewis made the first flight in the pressurized gondola on November 8, 1956. Strato Lab High 1 reached 76,000 feet. Shortly after reaching altitude, the vehicle began to descend on its own. At first, Ross and Lewis feared the balloon had torn. Once they reached 17,000 feet, they opened the hatches and began tossing equipment overboard. Ross and Lewis brought the descent under control and landed in the capsule near Kennedy, Nebraska. No tear was found in the balloon; there had been a problem with the vent valve.
The Navy completed the second Strato Lab High mission on October 18, 1957. Piloted once again by Ross and Lewis, Strato Lab High II reached 85,700 feet on October 18, 1957. They spent several hours above 85,000 feet in a flight that lasted nine and a half hours.
Strato Lab High II was relatively routine, the only negative aspects of the flight being uncomfortably high temperatures and humidity in the capsule. When they began their descent a little past noon, the temperature inside the capsule was nearing 80o and the relative humidity was around 60 percent. Wearing Navy thermal garments over Air Force pressure suits, Ross and Lewis were extremely uncomfortable. This seriously affected their ability to complete scientific observations. The flight journal contained the following remarks written after they conducted an instrument reading: "About stood on my head to do this. After several readings gave up. Strato-Lab of the future (as our manned satellites) must be far different if scientists are expected to work and do real research."
Ross again ascended into the stratosphere on May 6 - 7, 1958, this time accompanied by Alfred H. Mikesell, a Naval Observatory astronomer. They flew in an open gondola, and did not wear pressure suits. The aeronauts wore oxygen masks and Navy cold weather gear. Reaching 40,000 feet, Mikesell became the first astronomer to conduct observations from the stratosphere.
Ross and Lewis ventured into the stratosphere together again for Strato Lab High III on July 26 - 27, 1958. They reached 82,000 feet and remained aloft for 34-½ hours. Not long after this flight, Lewis retired from the Navy and joined the staff of Winzen Research as chief of operations. The fourth Strato Lab High flight took place on November 28 - 29, 1959. Commander Ross and Charles Moore reached 81,000 feet. For this flight, the capsule carried a 16-inch telescope so Moore could observe Venus.
Even though NASA had responsibility for human space flight, the Navy continued their Strato Lab program. In May 1961, on the eve before America’s first manned space flight by Navy Commander Alan Shepard, two other Navy officers ventured to the edge of space beneath a plastic balloon.
Strato Lab High V, the last in the series, was different from previous flights. Instead of using a pressurized capsule, Strato Lab High V used an open gondola. Commander Ross commanded this flight. Lt. Commander Victor G. Prather, a medical officer from the Naval Medical Research Institute in Bethesda, Maryland, accompanied him. The main objective of the flight was to test the Navy's Mark IV full pressure suit. Manufactured by B. F. Goodrich, the Mark IV was the basis for the Project Mercury space suits. Strato Lab High V was the most severe test of the suits ever conducted.
Ross and Prather took off from the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Antietam on the morning of May 4, 1961. The balloon envelope was the largest ever launched -- 10 million cubic feet! It was made from seven acres of polyethylene and weighed a ton. Fully inflated, it was 300 feet in diameter. The carrier was in the Gulf of Mexico, steaming with the wind so the air speed on the deck was zero.
Ross and Prather endured bitterly cold temperatures, condensation on the visors of their helmets, and communications problems during their ascent. Despite these difficulties, they reached 113,740 feet. As later reported by Ross: "In silent awe, we contemplated the supernal loveliness of the atmosphere." It was 9:47 a.m., a little more than two and a half hours after launch.
Ross decided to begin descending almost right away, but at first could not establish a steady rate of descent. By 11:15, they were still floating at 110,000 feet. Ross mentally plotted their descent rate versus time versus oxygen supply and realized they could very well run out of oxygen if they didn't descend soon. Ross finally achieved a steady descent rate, but found it was too fast. He and Prather quickly began jettisoning ballast.
Even after dropping all the ballast, Strato Lab continued to descend too fast, so they began throwing everything they could overboard, including the radio. The aeronauts brought the descent under control and even relaxed enough once they were below 7,000 feet to open the visors on their helmets and smoke cigarettes. When the gondola splashed down in the Gulf, Ross released the balloon. They sat there, floating comfortably, surrounded by the debris they jettisoned during the descent.
The Antietam was just a mile and a half away. With rescue helicopters overhead and the aircraft carrier approaching, Ross and Prather were in a jubilant mood, knowing they had completed all the objectives of the flight. As the helicopter moved into position, it lowered a line to the pilots. Ross went first. Stepping on the hook at the end of the line, he slipped and fell into the water but held onto the line and was hauled aboard the helicopter. When it was Prather's turn, he also slipped and fell into the water, but was unable to keep hold of the line. Seawater poured into his suit through the open face plate. Rescue divers were quickly in the water, but they were too late -- Prather drowned. Prather's tragic death devastated Ross and marred what was otherwise a brilliant flight.
The day after Strato Lab High V, an American crossed the threshold from “space equivalence” to outer space for the first time. On May 5, 1961, Navy Commander Alan B. Shepard, Jr. became the first American in space with the sub-orbital Freedom 7 mission.
The Crosby Connection
As he planned for Strato Lab and Manhigh, Otto Winzen realized launching the two- and three-million cubic foot behemoths needed to loft the capsules would be possible only during the most favorable conditions. Even a light breeze could turn the plastic envelope into a giant sail and send it careening out of control just before launch. Winzen needed a protected launch area like the Stratobowl of the 1930s, but the site in South Dakota wasn’t deep enough for balloons that towered 350 feet above the ground. He sought a deeper site and found one – the Portsmouth Mine near Crosby, Minnesota. The M. A. Hanna Company, which owned the open-pit iron mine, gave Winzen permission to use the 425-foot deep mine. Between 1956 and 1959, Winzen launched 25 balloons from the Portsmouth Mine, including the piloted Manhigh II, Strato Lab High II, and Strato Lab High III flights.
Follow On Proposals
Understandably, Otto Winzen was very enthusiastic about using balloon flights as analogs for space flight. Even before the third flight, Winzen proposed a Manhigh IV mission that would last up to five days. In the fall of 1958, he advanced an idea called “Satelorb,” a multi-man capsule that would remain aloft for up to a week. Satelorb contained an airlock so the pilots could venture outside the pressurized cabin to tend to instruments. However, the Manhigh IV and Satelorb proposals failed to arouse any official interest and never progressed beyond the drawing board.
Consideration was briefly given to adapting the Manhigh capsule for space flight. This was the Army’s Project Adam proposal. Adam would have used a Redstone missile to propel a modified Manhigh capsule 150 miles above the earth. Adam came from the Army Ballistic Missile Agency (ABMA) at Redstone Arsenal in Huntsville, Alabama. The concept emerged in late 1957, shortly after David Simons’ Manhigh II flight. The ABMA submitted a formal proposal to the Pentagon in April 1958.
David Simons, an Air Force officer, even traveled to Redstone to discuss the project despite the fact that the Air Force had officially decided not to support Adam. Simons would have designed the capsule and would likely have been the first pilot. Adam didn't survive long: the Pentagon rejected the idea in July 1958. In testimony before the Congressional House Space Committee NACA Chairman Hugh Dryden compared "tossing a man up in the air and letting him come back... [to] ...the circus stunt of shooting a young lady from a cannon."
Initial plans for Project Mercury included lofting a spacecraft using a balloon as an environmental test under space-like conditions. Such flights, however, were seen as superfluous and of dubious usefulness. There were simply too many environmental conditions that could not be tested with balloons, including acceleration and weightlessness, for the results to be worth the effort.
The Air Force conducted two additional manned stratospheric balloon projects in the early 1960s: Projects Excelsior and Stargazer. The highlight of the former was the parachute jump from 102,800 feet by Joe Kittinger to test high altitude bail out systems. Stargazer was very similar to Strato Lab High IV in that one of the crewmembers was an astronomer who performed observations from the gondola. However, by the time these flights occurred, humans had already crossed the threshold into outer space so they contributed relatively little to space flight.
Conclusions
So, what was the impact of manned high altitude balloons on space flight? Fifteen flights to the edge of space between 1931 and 1961 demonstrated the reliability of cabin life support systems. Overall, the systems performed as planned. The closest to a life support system failure occurred during the first Manhigh flight when the oxygen pressure controller was installed incorrectly.
Physical and psychological screening procedures used for America’s first space pilots were first used to select the Manhigh III pilot. Medical personnel who supported Manhigh and Strato Lab also supported Project Mercury.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there was the knowledge that it was possible to build a sealed cabin with a life support system that could sustain one or more individuals in an alien, inhospitable environment. This knowledge helped pave the way for subsequent space flights.
Bibliography of Sources
Air Force Missile Development Center, Manhigh III Manned Balloon Flight Into the Stratosphere, Aeromedical Field Laboratory, Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico, Report AFMDC-TR-60-16, April, 1961.
“Airships and Balloons,” The Aircraft Year Book For 1935, Aeronautical Chamber of Commerce of America, Inc., 1935.
“Airships and Balloons,” The Aircraft Year Book For 1936, Aeronautical Chamber of Commerce of America, Inc., 1936.
Army Ballistic Missile Agency, “Development Proposal for Project Adam,” Report D-TR-1-58, Redstone Arsenal, Huntsville, Alabama, April 17, 1958.
Baker, Norman L., “Air Force Won’t Support Project Adam,” Missiles and Rockets, June 1958.
Clark, Evert, “Navy Balloon Flight Aids Space Research,” Aviation Week, May 12, 1958.
DeVorkin, David H., Race to the Stratosphere, Springer-Verlag, New York, 1989.
Historical Division, Air Force Missile Development Center, Contributions of Balloon Operations to Research and Development at the Air Force Missile Development Test Center, 1947 - 1958, Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico, 1959.
Historical Division, Air Force Missile Development Center, History of Research in Space Biology and Biodynamics at the Air Force Missile Development Center, Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico, 1946 - 1958, Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico, 1958.
Honour, Alan, Ten Miles High, Two Miles Deep, Whittlesey House, McGraw-Hill Book Company, New York, 1957.
Mallan, Lloyd, Men, Rockets and Space Rats, Julian Messner, Inc., New York, 1955.
New York University Purchase Order Number 42736, dated January 5, 1949, to Winzen Research, Inc., for 20 polyethylene balloons.
Piccard, Auguste, “Ballooning in the Stratosphere,” National Geographic Magazine, March 1933.
Piccard, Jean Felix, “The Pleiades II,” undated, ca. 1946, Rosendahl Collection, University of Texas at Dallas History of Aviation Collection, Box #263, Folder 5.
Ross, Malcolm D., and Lewis, M. Lee, “The Strato-Lab Balloon System for High Altitude Research,” The Journal of Aviation Medicine, Volume 29, Number 4, May 1958.
Ross, Malcolm D., and Lewis, M. Lee, “The Role of Manned Balloons in the Exploration of Space,” Institute of the Aeronautical Sciences Reprint #834, 1958.
Ross, Malcolm D., “Reactions of a Balloon Crew in a Controlled Environment,” The Journal of Aviation Medicine, Volume 30, Number 3, May 1959.
Ross, Malcolm D., “We Saw the World From the Edge of Space,” National Geographic, November 1961.
Settle, T. C. W., “Stratosphere balloon flight, report on,” 27 November 1933.
Simons, David G., Stratosphere Balloon Techniques for Exposing Living Specimens to Primary Cosmic Ray Particles, HADC TR-54-16, Holloman Air Development Center, Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico, November 1954.
Simons, David G., “A Journey No Man Had Taken,” Life, vol. 43, no. 10, September 2, 1957.
Simons, David G., Manhigh II, AFMDC-TR-59-28, Air Force Missile Development Center, Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico, June 1959.
Simons, David G., and Schanche, Don A., Man High, Doubleday and Company, Garden City, New York, 1960.
Smith, James R., and Murray, William D., Constant Level Balloons, Section 1, General, Technical Report No. 93.02, College of Engineering, New York University, November 15, 1949.
“The Stratosphere Flight,” The Aircraft Year Book For 1934, Aeronautical Chamber of Commerce of America, Inc., 1934.
Stevens, Albert W., “Man’s Farthest Aloft,” National Geographic Magazine, January 1936.
Stevens, Albert W., “Scientific Results of the Stratospheric Flight,” National Geographic Magazine, May 1936.
Swenson, Loyd S., Jr., Grimwood, James M., and Alexander, Charles C., This New Ocean, NASA SP-4201, U. S. Government Printing Office, Washington, D. C., 1966.
Taylor, James R., “Request for Proposal on PR 273489,” Wright Air Development Center, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio, August 14, 1952.
United States Army, “Aeromedical Training for Flight Personnel,” U. S. Army Training Circular TC 1-20, 18 January 1979, U. S. Government Printing Office, Washington, D. C.
Weaver, Richard L., and McAndrew, James, The Roswell Report, Department of the Air Force, U. S. Government Printing Office, Washington, D. C., 1995.
Welinski, B., Strato-Lab High #1 Post Flight Report of System Development, Winzen Research, Inc., Minneapolis, February 1, 1959.
Winzen, Otto C., “10 Years of Plastic Balloons,” Winzen Research Technical Publication No. 7B, Minneapolis, October 24, 1957.
Letter, Otto C. Winzen to Commanding General, Wright Air Development Center, “Study and Design of a High Altitude Research Vehicle,” October 13, 1952 (with attached Technical Proposal).
Technical Proposal, Otto C. Winzen to Commander George W. Hoover, Office of Naval Research, “Technical Proposal for the Design and Construction of a High Altitude Research Vehicle and Research Flights Therewith,” December 31, 1952.
Winzen, Otto C., Operation Manhigh II, Winzen Research, Inc., Minneapolis, ca. 1958.
Winzen Research, Inc., Manhigh I, Air Force Missile Development Center, Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico, Report AFMDC-TR-24, June 1959.
Winzen Research, Inc., Final Report Stratolab High No. 5, Winzen Research, Inc., Minneapolis, August 17, 1961.
NEW MAN HIGH BOOK PUBLISHED
Friday, June 22, 2007
