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

Fortunately, experienced leaders knew chaos was part of the normal process in the hours following a catastrophe. It would take forty-eight to seventy-two hours to gather the appropriate situational awareness, sort out priorities, and begin taking control of the situation. Until then, things would be messy—and probably get messier.

The nonstop activity since the accident caused people’s perception of time to become fluid and deceptive. Mark Stanford from the Texas Forest Service found that working in the windowless building was like being in a casino, without visual cues to indicate how much time had passed. At one point, Stanford told someone that he had been on duty for seventy-two hours straight. He was surprised to learn that it was still less than twenty-four hours after the accident.

NASA and FEMA debated initially over who was in charge of the recovery operation. Two men from FEMA asserted to NASA’s Dave King that they were in charge, since President Bush’s disaster declaration designated FEMA to handle the aftermath of the accident. King felt NASA had given him the responsibility. King called NASA headquarters. Shortly afterward, the White House Situation Room called King to ask what was going on. A few minutes later, King was told, “You’re in charge of the search and recovery. FEMA’s there to support you.”

Almost immediately afterward, one of the FEMA men came to King and asked, “What can we do to help?” No egos were involved—it was just that the roles needed to be clarified and confirmed. Multiple leaders simply could not all have the final decision-making authority.

It took several days to iron out the specifics, but everyone ultimately agreed that FEMA was the lead agency to respond to the declared national disaster. FEMA funded the operation and coordinated all the federal, state, and local support. NASA was the lead agency for information and intelligence. NASA was also in charge of the technical aspects of the search-and-recovery operations and the accident investigation. FEMA tasked the US Environmental Protection Agency to work with the other agencies to ensure public safety by collecting, decontaminating, and transporting the debris. The FBI was the lead agency for recovering human remains. Finally, the Texas Forest Service was the lead state agency for Texas, providing planning and logistics support to the overall operation, and they were the primary interface with the local incident command teams. [1] Greg Cohrs email to Jonathan Ward, December 19, 2016. Other federal, state, and local agencies would lend support as required in their areas of expertise.

Lufkin served as FEMA’s operational disaster field office for all operations, including staging assets and deploying search teams to the field. Barksdale was NASA’s investigative center and debris processing facility. [2] FEMA, “FEMA Puts Federal Resources into Action to Assist State and Local Authorities in Search, Find and Secure Mission for Columbia Debris,” news release HQ-03-029, February 2, 2003.

Only twenty-four hours after the accident, dozens of agencies and hundreds of people were starting to make sense out of an unprecedented disaster that spanned huge swaths of several states. And the scope of the problem was still unknown.

By mid-morning, eighty searchers were on hand at Hemphill’s VFW hall, including volunteers from the local community, Department of Public Safety troopers, and personnel from the nearby US Forest Service Sabine, Angelina, and Davy Crockett Ranger Districts, as well as representatives from the Sabine River Authority. [3] Cohrs, “Notes,” 5. Search coordinator Greg Cohrs divided the people into four teams of twenty. He selected crew leads based on their leadership, “woods-worthiness,” and navigational skills. He assigned the teams to grid-search two areas near where the first significant crew remains had been found. The crews would search along either side of the centerline Cohrs had drawn the previous evening, where it appeared most likely they would find additional remains. Groups One and Two walked northwest along both sides of the centerline from Beckcom Road. Groups Three and Four worked their way northwest from the location of the crew remains found on Farm Road 2024 near Housen Bayou. [4] Cohrs, “Notes,” 5.

Grid searching is a basic skill for forestry workers—a methodical, disciplined way to search an area for still-smoldering pockets of embers that might rekindle into flame. Law enforcement also uses the technique to search crime scenes for evidence or to cover a large area when looking for a missing person.

The process involved walking in a line with searchers spaced out abreast at about an arm’s length from one another. In practice, separation varied from five to twenty feet depending on the thickness of the local vegetation. As the line moved slowly forward, searchers would scan the ground and trees for anything of interest, and immediately flag and record its GPS position. If crew remains were found, law enforcement officers would call in the astronaut recovery team. Any shuttle debris would be left in place, because of potential hazardous chemical contamination, unless the item appeared to be an avionics box or something personal from the crew. The search line would continue to follow its prescribed path until it reached a road crossing, where the group’s end-line exit points were flagged. The command center kept track of the searched areas on a topographic map.

Marsha Cooper of the US Forest Service was on one of the teams searching between Beckcom Road and Springhill Road, a few yards from where the first crew member was found the previous day. Cooper was wearing her new $300 fire boots.

Her team stepped off Beckcom Road, over some brush, and into the field. She immediately halted in her tracks. “There’s something here,” she called out. The line boss asked her to repeat what she’d said. “There’s something here,” she said, her voice breaking.

She did not want the nearby news media crews to hear that she was standing amid human remains.

Dense briar thickets, fences, streams, and other obstacles tormented the searchers as they made their way through the forests. The search lines had to go over or through those impediments—not around them—to ensure that nothing on the ground was missed. It was brutal work. Brambles and thorns shredded clothing and drew blood.

Volunteer Dwight Riley saw some people give up after a hundred yards, when their clothes proved woefully inadequate. One FBI agent, attired in a business suit and dress shoes, stepped in deep mud. He had to be extricated by his teammates, who then had to retrieve his shoes from the muck. DPS troopers’ highway patrol uniforms afforded no protection from the environment.

Belinda Gay, who had been serving breakfast to the searchers, found walking the search line a strangely comforting—and somber—experience. There was little talking other than the occasional admonition from the leader to stay in line. No one knew what they were going to find, although they were keenly aware of the possibilities.

Debris of all sizes littered the area. Items from the crew compartment sobered the searchers. Pieces of mission patches—some scorched, others nearly pristine—lay in the fields. Golf balls and other items flown by the crew as presents for friends and family also turned up. Pieces of the crew’s flight suits—boots, glove lock rings, and helmets—gave people pause.

In addition to the organized searches, local residents were requested to walk their property to look for anything that might have come from the shuttle. Hivie McCowan, an elderly widow, was deathly afraid to look around, because she feared she might encounter human remains. But she mustered the courage to walk through her pasture, and she found a large metal beam that clearly did not belong there.