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

Marsha Cooper of the US Forest Service said, “It made me realize how much amazing love is really there. I never felt so much love for humans or mankind.”

The Columbia accident, with the loss of its seven crew members and the two searchers, was a profound tragedy, but many people felt that divine intervention prevented things from being worse than they were. Had Columbia disintegrated two or three minutes earlier, much of its debris would have fallen on Dallas and its suburbs, causing untold damage. A breakup a few seconds later would have sent some of the crew members’ remains into Toledo Bend Reservoir or the Gulf of Mexico, from which they would likely never have been recovered. If NASA had waved off the first landing attempt, Columbia could have fallen into downtown Houston on its next orbit.

Had the accident occurred in the spring or summer, the East Texas “Pine Curtain” would have been impenetrable because of the new growth of underbrush and briars. Heat, humidity, snakes, and alligators would have taken a toll on the searchers. Had the accident occurred during fire season rather than February, very few crews would have been available to assist with the search.

The citizens of East Texas feel the hand of divine providence in bringing Columbia and her crew to rest in their community. It afforded them the opportunity to “love thy neighbor” by comforting the NASA family in their time of grief.

One trusts that the residents of any region in America would have responded with the same grace, love, and dedication that the communities of Texas displayed.

No exact accounting was ever made of the number of Americans that helped NASA find Columbia and her crew, return them home, and reconstruct the orbiter from the debris. That would not have been possible, given the nature of the operation, the large number of agencies involved, and the number of volunteers who showed up to help for a few days or hours and then moved on. The consensus is that about twenty-five thousand Americans were involved in one way or another. Some stayed on through the entire duration of the effort, some for briefer periods. But all helped.

Everyone agrees on two remarkable facts: The Columbia recovery was the largest ground search effort in American history; and it was also one with no internal strife, bickering, or inter-agency squabbles. Everyone involved had a single goal and worked collectively to achieve it—to bring Columbia and her crew home.

It was as true at KSC as it was in East Texas—acquaintances became friends; friends became good friends; and good friends became close for life. The experience changed the lives of the astronaut families and friends in unimaginable ways. It also changed the twenty-five-thousand-person team.

It made me a better launch director and, I’d like to think, a better person too. It made me appreciate it more when people sought me out for advice and guidance, so I opened up a little bit more. I had a much deeper appreciation for the astronauts and the risks of spaceflight. This served me well over the final twenty-two shuttle missions, by making me dig even deeper before giving that final “Go” on launch day. It became my habit to look out the windows of the Launch Control Center at the shuttle on the launchpad and think about my friends who were about to take an incredible risk. Was I truly ready to say, “Go”? Was I ready to commit them to an ultimately risky endeavor? During this “gut check”—the ultimate gut check—Rick Husband and his crew, and the crew’s families, were always with me in the decision. How could I ask another crew to go and not think about them? They were instinctively part of every launch decision.

The recovery of Columbia ’s crew and the ship’s debris changed the good people of East Texas as well. NASA was now part of their families, and they were part of the NASA family. Astronauts were no longer just faces on a TV screen. They were real people with whom the citizens had worked selflessly side by side—real men and women with families and loved ones who bore tremendous sacrifices so that America could accomplish its goals in space. And one of their beloved citizens and his pilot had given their lives to help NASA find Columbia .

They, and all the thousands of people from across the United States who participated in the recovery, need to know NASA will forever be in their debt and will always admire their selflessness.

The good people of Columbia ’s recovery and reconstruction individually and collectively rose above all reasonable expectations. They succeeded in ways outwardly observable and only inwardly known.

All of them—all twenty-five thousand men, women, and children—are American heroes.

I feel honored to be asked to write the epilogue for Bringing Columbia Home . This is a book that needed to be written, and I am so glad it is here. It tells the true story of an epic undertaking. Out of disaster came passion and meaning. People came together to search for Columbia , in part due to their sorrow for the loss of the crew, and in part due to their devotion to the mission of space exploration. This story also gives us a chance to reflect and to ask ourselves why we explore.

I would never want to relive that terrible Saturday morning of February 1, 2003. My crew and I were five weeks from launch and completely immersed in our own upcoming mission preparation when we lost Columbia . All of a sudden, our mission became displaced and distant. I immediately found myself thinking of each Columbia crew member, my last time spent with each of them, their families, and their future plans that would now never happen.

While the Space Shuttle Program immediately activated its contingency action plan, my crew focused on assisting the Columbia families, the accident investigation, and eventually the return-to-flight effort. We were called into entirely different roles than the ones for which we were training. Pilots and mission specialists became family assistance officers, Shuttle Program representatives, and even public spokespersons. I did not see my pilot Jim Kelly for three months while he served as the family assistance officer for Laurel Clark’s family. Steve Robinson likewise aided Mike Anderson’s family. Steve eventually redesigned our patch to honor the STS-107 crew. Andy Thomas wrote a beautiful memorial to the Columbia crew, which was downlinked when our mission eventually flew. Our message was that we needed to continue Columbia ’s mission of exploration.

The Columbia crew’s mission gave them the chance to fulfill their dreams. It was an opportunity to fly to space, have an adventure, visit microgravity, live and work in a totally new and unusual environment, experience a feeling and freedom that you cannot possibly simulate on the surface, look down on our beautiful planet, push yourself to achieve the mission’s challenging goals, and be part of a team with a meaningful vision.

That vision included understanding the universe we live in, the human body, the possibilities of new technologies, our Earth’s natural processes, the secrets of our neighboring planets, and the mysteries of deep space. The Columbia crew was taking baby steps, but great missions begin with small steps—learning steps. They were passionate about their mission. Passion, like risk, is a part of any great quest.

I often tell my children that generations pass and centuries pass, but it seems that the sense of curiosity in people does not change. Sure, our environment changes and technology changes, but people are still human. We still carry the spirit and adventure of those we read about in history, the Bible, the Greek plays, the discoveries of Columbus, and the exploration of the Americas. Likewise, astronauts love to explore, and they feel very confident, focused, and determined about it. I believe exploring and taking risks will be around for a long time.