Michael Leinbach - Bringing Columbia Home - The Untold Story of a Lost Space Shuttle and Her Crew

Millslagle asked what help NASA needed from the FBI. King explained that the aftermath of the Challenger disaster had been a logistical mess. King did not want a repeat of that nightmare.

“I’d like the FBI crime scene folks to work along with locals and astronauts, when we start searching for human remains and some of the sensitive equipment,” he said, “to preserve those remains and items. No pictures. Nothing like that. We don’t need it on the news. But we have to do it properly so that we can get the crew’s remains back, if there are any.”

Millslagle replied, “You got it.”

President Bush addressed the nation from the White House Cabinet Room at 2:04 p.m. Eastern Time. “My fellow Americans,” he began, “this day has brought terrible news and great sadness to our country. At nine a.m., Mission Control in Houston lost contact with our space shuttle Columbia . A short time later, debris was seen falling from the skies above Texas…

“The Columbia is lost. There are no survivors.”

Accident Plus Six Hours

Chief Flight Director Milt Heflin and Space Shuttle Program Manager Ron Dittemore said in a press conference at Johnson Space Center that it was too early to blame the accident on the foam strike on Columbia ’s wing. Dittemore noted that the Mission Management Team had concluded while Columbia was in orbit that the foam strike was not a concern. He reiterated, “That is the case today. We have no information that would say that is not the case.” [16] Michael Cabbage and Robyn Suriano, “Fatal Return: A Stunned NASA Searches for Answers,” Orlando Sentinel (Orlando, FL), February 2, 2003, 1–20.

Calls were flooding into the Sabine County command center at an alarming rate. Maintaining order was nearly impossible. Teams that had been sent out to the field to investigate calls were not returning to the command center; they were constantly being interrupted or distracted by worried citizens. As soon as responders left a scene after investigating one sighting, someone else would flag them down along the road. Greg Cohrs eventually had to rein in the teams and instruct them to investigate only their assigned sightings. If stopped by citizens in the field, they could take information and report it to the dispatcher to be dealt with sequentially, but they could not stay to investigate further. It was the only way to regain control on the first day of the recovery. [17] Greg Cohrs email to Jonathan Ward, September 27, 2016.

Searches in the field that afternoon were loosely structured. Searchers were looking for anything of interest, primarily any possible remains of the crew or their personal effects. Many of the search teams did not have GPS equipment. They called in descriptions of where items were found and flagged them to be retrieved later.

Shuttle debris was everywhere around them.

A half hour later, Dave Whittle called Ellington Field to arrange transportation for the Mishap Investigation Team to Barksdale. NASA’s infamous Vomit Comet —the Boeing 707 used for zero-G training flights—flew the JSC contingent and the MIT’s equipment to Barksdale. They departed Ellington at about 3:30 p.m. Central Time.

At Kennedy, the Rapid Response Team and I should have been leaving at about the same time. However, there were delays getting an air force plane to us. It was frustrating to wait in the Launch Control Center when we were so anxious to get to the scene and start working.

Accident Plus Eight Hours

Jim Wetherbee and his carload of astronauts arrived at Lufkin in the late afternoon. Wetherbee found the FBI’s Jeff Millslagle and introduced himself as the representative from the astronaut office.

Wetherbee asked, “How can I help?”

Millslagle looked at him. “What’s your plan?”

Wetherbee thought that perhaps he hadn’t spoken clearly, and he repeated, “I’m Jim Wetherbee from the crew office in Houston, and I’m here to help.”

Millslagle once again asked, “What’s your plan?”

Wetherbee then began to realize the responsibility he bore as the senior astronaut representative. People were looking to him for direction and answers. He knew he had to be quick and accurate in establishing a plan of action.

Wetherbee located Dave King, and the two discussed their roles. King would be the “up and out” person, interfacing with the senior leaders of the many agencies involved, the White House, and NASA headquarters. King assigned Wetherbee as the crew recovery’s “down and in” leader, with operational decision authority for anything related to searching for and recovering Columbia ’s astronauts. He would interface with the local FBI, FEMA, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), the Texas Army National Guard, the Texas Department of Public Safety—and what eventually grew to be forty-four different federal, state, and local organizations involved in the search for the crew.

Wetherbee took a deep breath and got to work.

The NASA checklists and contingency plans at Wetherbee’s disposal contained valuable information—names, phone numbers, and roles and responsibilities. All this would come in handy later on in the investigation. However, it was inadequate for the immediate situation, which was chaotic and still evolving.

He drew on his naval experience and training for what to do in a catastrophe like the one he was facing. First, he would establish his command center, find out what resources were available, and gather intelligence from the field. Then, he could develop a plan and staff the key positions with his fellow astronauts. Only then would he feel that he had taken control of the situation rather than reacting to it.

FEMA’s Emergency Operations Vehicle arrived in Lufkin from Denton, Texas, late in the afternoon. FEMA parked the eighty-two-foot-long tractor trailer in the lot adjacent to the Civic Center. A section of the trailer expanded sideways, forming a work area that accommodated a twenty-five-person FEMA response team. Equipped with electrical generators, satellite radio transceivers, computers, desks, file servers, printers, and copiers, it was FEMA’s self-contained command center. [18] Federal Emergency Management Association (FEMA), “FEMA Emergency Operations Vehicle (EOV),” fact sheet, undated [2003 or earlier].

Meanwhile, personnel from FBI, NASA, and other agencies moved from Lufkin’s FBI office to the Civic Center and began to set up shop.

Mark Stanford arrived from the Texas Forest Service office with a truckload of supplies. He went inside the Civic Center to take a look at the situation. To his trained eye, the command center was beginning to take shape, but it would have appeared as complete chaos to an outsider. Representatives from myriad state, local, and federal agencies were scurrying around and carving out space for their operations. Stanford understood that this was completely normal, given the magnitude and recency of the tragedy and the number of agencies involved.

Stanford knew that he would be immediately shot down, laughed at, or ignored if he announced that “the Texas Forest Service is here to bring order to the situation!” His experience showed that the best way to get a team to embrace you in a disaster situation was to make yourself as helpful as possible. “Figure out who’s in charge by observing the scene. Then go up to that person and say, ‘What three things are biting you on the ass?’ And then you make it your goal to fix those three things. Then you’re part of the team.”

Accident Plus Eight Hours Thirty Minutes