Gene Kranz - Failure Is Not an Option

None of this was news to me and I wondered where he was heading. Kraft then continued, “Each mission in the flight sequence from now on must clearly resolve some flight unknown or add a new capability to our missions. The E mission does not make sense to me. It only goes to a 4,000-mile apogee [highest point of the orbit]. That is not high enough to check out the CSM lunar navigation and verify the navigation and tracking software we will use in the MCC during a lunar mission. If we are going to do the E mission, I don’t see why in the hell we don’t go to the Moon and test the techniques and software we will use for lunar navigation and tracking.”

The chief of mission planning, John Mayer, had been waiting for this opening. Within hours of the meeting, his conceptual flight planners were on their computers. Within a month, Mayer’s team had developed a basic plan with a lunar flyby and a lunar orbit alternative. Satisfied with Mayer’s planning, Kraft directed the work to continue and to be expanded to involve all of his divisions. Chris, always the master at balancing risk and building options, now had a lunar mission alternate, and, given the opportunity, I was sure he would use it.

I was suddenly the acting division chief for flight control. The Manned Spacecraft Center director, Dr. Robert Gilruth, concerned about the lack of planning for the post-Apollo era, assigned John Hodge to study how the Manned Spacecraft Center should be organized to meet the space programs of the future.

I had my hands full juggling flight director and division chief duties when I received a call to report to Kraft’s office for a one-on-one meeting on Friday morning, August 9. I was hoping that the meeting would be short and it was. With no preamble, or even hello, Kraft announced, “George Low wants to fly a mission to the Moon this year. He believes he can have a CSM available in December.” The shock on my face must have been evident as Kraft continued, “George wants to drop the E mission from the schedule and then use the Apollo 8 crew for a lunar orbit mission using the CSM from Apollo 9. Your [Apollo 9] mission will be slipped two months to get training for Borman’s crew.”

Kraft had accomplished much of the mission planning with the studies he had commissioned in April. Now in a gutsy move George Low picked up Kraft’s lunar mission plan. Low saw that it provided a way to continue to move forward on the lunar landing schedule and flight-test the lunar navigation and tracking while the LM program resolved its problems. The LM spacecraft deliveries were lagging due to a broad range of developmental problems. I recognized Low’s plan as a bold move that would let us get to the Moon by the most direct path and buy us some badly needed schedule time… provided it worked.

Kraft asked me to give him a list of the minimum number of people needed to assess the plan. After reflecting a few moments I gave him names of five controllers. Kraft’s response was succinct: “We don’t need to get the training, booster, or LM people involved yet. Let’s keep it to Bostick and Aldrich. [ Jerry Bostick and Arnie Aldrich were flight controllers in my division.] I’m flying to Huntsville with Low and Slayton this afternoon to see if they can get a Saturn ready for the mission. We need to get Marshall Center leadership behind the plan.” As he motioned me out of the office he concluded, “I will need your assessment by Monday if not earlier. Keep this under your hat.” I walked away thinking that Wernher von Braun’s Germans and my trajectory team were in for one hell of a surprise.

I had mixed emotions returning to my own office. I am conservative in my planning and had long believed in a thoroughly planned and incremental approach to the lunar goal. Personally, I believed the best track to reach the Moon was the current sequence. Low’s plan would heighten the risks, but by moving ahead on several fronts at once, it would buy us time.

On his return Friday night from Alabama, Kraft, with Low, called the flight designer, Bob Ernull, and Jim Stokes, the computer boss, to his office and got right to the point. “I need launch window data for a December lunar mission, and I need it by Monday morning.”

With no hesitation, Ernull replied, “I’ll need all the computers in Buildings 12 and 30, and I’ll need them through the weekend.” Kraft turned to Stokes and ordered him to give Bob everything he needed to do the job.

It wasn’t going to be easy to carry out Kraft’s new marching orders, but Apollo succeeded at critical moments like this because the bosses had no hesitation about assigning crucial tasks to one individual, trusting his judgment, and then getting out of his way. In 1968 computers were still incredibly slow by today’s standards. We sometimes needed a run of six to eight hours to come up with a single answer. Computer data entry was time-consuming and the complexity of the data entry often introduced errors in the data input. The long running time and the drain on the memory often resulted in the machine crashing just before it could crank out the answer. With four mainframe computers at his disposal, running around the clock, Ernull was barely able to generate the mission data. Emerging in the early hours Monday morning, he provided Kraft with options for an Atlantic Ocean splashdown in November, December 1968, and January 1969, and a single Pacific Ocean launch window from December 20 to 27, 1968.

Early Saturday morning, I received a call to attend another meeting with Kraft. His secretary had already called a half dozen new principals, including Bostick and Aldrich. The meeting was again short. Kraft indicated that MSFC was studying Low’s plan and that he needed a commitment from his four divisions in two days. Leaving the meeting, Aldrich and Bostick were on top of the world, unable to believe their luck—they were going to lead the planning for the first lunar mission. We were fully aware of the intense workload ahead, and the reshuffling of priorities and the risks that we had to address. Our decision processes might seem unstructured and extemporaneous, but those involved, even the very young, had the requisite experience and were masters at the art of risk judgment. All were acutely aware of the consequences of failure. The teamwork used to respond to changes and problems during a mission is the same used to respond to planning actions before the mission. Our technique assured a rapid, competent, and multidisciplinary response.

Working on weekends had become a habit, at least a half day just to catch up and get ready for the training or testing every Monday. Bostick made a few phone calls when he returned to his office. When you received a call from work on a weekend you dropped what you were doing and just reported in. A half hour later as three controllers walked into his office Bostick began, “A few of us just had a meeting with Kraft. George Low wants to go to the Moon this December. By Monday, Kraft wants to know whether we can do it or not.”

A full-scale debate erupted: “Geez, Jerry, we’ve never been out of Earth orbit before. We don’t even know if we can compute a lunar injection maneuver. Christ, we don’t even know if the booster guidance can do the job!”

Unruffled, Bostick rolled on, “I want you to get together a small team of the best people you have, give them the job, and turn them loose. I need an answer by Monday.”

Bostick then turned to Chuck Deiterich, a young, thin, lanky Texan with a Pancho Villa mustache. “Chuck,” he said, “I’ve tagged you as the lead RETRO for the first lunar mission. You will have my full support.” Deiterich, a specialist in reentry trajectories, had never worked a manned mission. He was momentarily overwhelmed by his new role. His other two teammates would be his section and branch bosses, who would be working for him. Such was Flight Control in the final year before the lunar landing. Assignments and opportunities came like a lightning flash. There were no precedents, no guidelines. All of a sudden you were given a job and you just did it—whatever it took.