Gemini IV: the first US space walk

The Gemini spacecraft could be depressurized so that the astronaut could then leave it by standing on the seat and just pushing off. The first Gemini extra vehicular activity (EVA) or space walk had been scheduled for Gemini VI, but the Soviet success and the readiness of the US spacesuits and equipment meant that an earlier attempt was possible. James McDivitt and Ed White were the crew. NASA was reluctant to let the astronauts take the risk but President Johnson reacted to Leonov’s space walk by saying: “If the guy can stick his head out, he can also take a walk. I want to see an American EVA.” Aldrin:

Liftoff came after a brief delay when the launch pad gantry stuck, but the ascent was flawless. Television coverage of the blast‑off was broadcast to Europe via Early Bird satellite, another first for NASA (which the Soviets in their determination to be secretive could never do). There were some unpleasant longitudinal “pogo” booster oscillations, which were smoothed out, and Gemini IV was in orbit five minutes later. Unfortunately, McDivitt’s awkward attempts at an “eyeball rendezvous” with the spent second stage were an utter failure. He tried to fly the spacecraft toward the slowly tumbling Titan booster shell, and naturally, he ran into the predictable paradoxes as the target alternately seemed to speed away and then drop behind. McDivitt had never grasped much rendezvous theory during his Houston training, and after the mission, one of the Gemini engineers, Andrei Meyer, commented that McDivitt just didn’t understand or reason out the orbital mechanics involved. “I certainly knew what Andy was saying, having once hoped to interest a bunch of white‑scarf astronauts in rendezvous techniques.” Unfortunately McDivitt’s abortive rendezvous wasted half their thruster propellant.

For his EVA, Ed White had to go through an extremely tiring preparation, attaching his umbilical system and the emergency oxygen chestpack in the tiny cockpit. After resting, Ed opened the hatch while the spacecraft was over the Indian Ocean. He stood in his seat and fired his handheld “zip gun” maneuvering thruster, which squirted compressed gas from the ends of a T‑shaped nozzle. He drifted to the end of his tether and was able to maneuver himself using the gun.

White remembered:

“There was absolutely no sensation of falling. There was very little sensation of speed, other than the same type of sensation that we had in the capsule, and I would say it would be very similar to flying over the Earth from about 20,000 feet. You can’t actually see the Earth moving underneath you. I think as I stepped out, I thought probably the biggest thing was a feeling of accomplishment of one of the goals of the Gemini IV mission. I think that was probably in my mind. I think that is as close as I can give it to you.”

White propelled himself down to the nose of the spacecraft, then back to the adapter end, but soon ran out of fuel, and reported:

“The manoeuvring unit is good. The only problem is I haven’t got enough fuel. I’ve exhausted the fuel now and I was able to manoeuvre myself down to the bottom of the spacecraft and I was right on top of the adapter. I’m looking right down, and it looks like we are coming up on the coast of California, and I’m going in slow rotation to the right. There is absolutely no disorientation association.”

McDivitt observed:

“One thing about it, when Ed gets out there and starts whipping around it sure makes the spacecraft tough to control.”

White then began to use the umbilical tether to move around. He explained:

“The tether was quite useful. I was able to go right back where I started every time, but I wasn’t able to manoeuvre to specific points with it. I also used it to pull myself down to the spacecraft, and at one time I called down and said, ‘I am walking across the top of the spacecraft,’ and that is exactly what I was doing. I took the tether to give myself a little friction on the top of the spacecraft and walked about three or four steps until the angle of the tether to the spacecraft got so much that my feet went out from under me. I also realised that our tether was mounted so that it put me exactly where I was told to stay out of.”

McDivitt remained at the controls keeping the spacecraft steady. White moved around while they both took photographs and discussed the view.

Capcom: “Take some pictures.”

McDivitt: “Get out in front where I can see you again.”

In Houston, Flight Director Christopher Kraft was becoming anxious because White had stayed out longer than the Flight Plan allowed (12 minutes). Nor was he showing any sign of returning.

McDivitt: “They want you to get back in now.”

White: “I’m not coming in – this is fun.”

Gus Grissom, the Capcom at Mission Control ordered: “Gemini IV – get back in!”

White replied happily: “But I’m just fine.”

McDivitt snapped back, “Get back in. Come on. We’ve got three and half more days to go, buddy.”

“I’m coming.” White’s boots thumped on the spacecraft as he reluctantly worked himself to the top of the capsule, handed back the camera, and again stood on the seat. Savouring the moment he stood briefly on the seat, looked at the stunning view, and sighed, “It’s the saddest moment of my life.”

Grissom queried what was happening, and McDivitt replied, “He’s standing in the seat now, and his legs are down below the instrument panel. He’s coming in.”

White’s EVA had lasted 21 minutes. Aldrin:

Ed had not only become an astronaut – his ambition since our days together in Germany – but he had also been the first American to float free in space. Like Leonov, he had a hard time jamming the legs of his bulky pressure suit into the narrow hatch, and it was even more difficult to work the hatch’s torque handle to reseal the spacecraft. But with Jim McDivitt’s help, Gemini IV was repressurized and they began the nasty task of putting away the awkward EVA equipment.

One of the photographs of Ed’s EVA shows him floating freely, the thruster gun in his right hand, the sun reflecting brightly from his visor with the distant ocean cloudscape far below. It’s eerie and futuristic. You can clearly see the American flag sewn to his left shoulder – a proud swatch of color. This flight was the first time that the shoulder patch flags were worn. There was certainly no practical reason to slap Old Glory on an astronaut’s shoulder. After all, there were no customs posts out there. But showing the flag in space – for both the Soviet Union and the United States – was now increasingly important. That picture of Ed became one of the most famous images of the space age.

Gemini IV’s attempt at a rendezvous in space had failed. The unmanned Agena target vehicle was not ready for the next mission, so Gemini V had to find the position of a phantom Agena, by flying to its calculated position in orbit. The next mission was cancelled when the target vehicle’s engine broke up. Gemini VI became Gemini VIA and the revised plan was for it to rendezvous with Gemini VII which would be on a 14‑day mission. Aldrin:

On December 12, Wally Schirra and Tom Stafford’s countdown reached T‑0 at 9:54 am. Schirra’s mission, renamed Gemini VI‑A, would rendezvous with Borman’s, which was acting as a passive target in lieu of the Agena. The huge Titan’s engines spewed flame, but shut down 1.2 seconds after ignition. Schirra showed his cool fighter pilot’s nerve by not pulling the abort ring, which would have blasted both of them in their ejection seats to safety. A small electrical plug had shaken loose in the tail of the Titan, causing premature engine shutdown. That was real discipline sitting there waiting for the launch crew to reattach the gantry while a fully fueled and armed Titan booster smoked below them.

Three days later the Gemini VI‑A mission was finally launched. After six hours of maneuvering, the last three in the automatic, computer‑controlled mode, Wally Schirra accomplished America’s first true orbital rendezvous. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing when he fired his thrusters on the computer’s orders. About an hour before actual rendezvous, Wally exclaimed, “My gosh, there’s a real bright star out there. That must be Sirius.” The bright object was Gemini VII.

NASA had two spacecraft and four astronauts in orbit, and the news media made the most of the mission. The press was ecstatic when Tom Stafford gleefully said he’d just seen “a satellite going from north to south, probably in a polar orbit.” Then Wally Schirra – ever the prankster – played “Jingle Bells” on his harmonica.

By 18 December, when Frank Borman and Jim Lovell splashed down in the Atlantic, America had more than quadrupled the “space hours” racked up by the Soviet Union.

In 1966 Soviet efforts were hampered by the illness and death of chief designer, Korolev, and by competition between his successor, Michin and the ICBM design bureau led by military designer General Vladimir N. Chelomei. The Soviets also needed to develop a large rocket like the Saturn V, but had not yet managed to build the more complex upper stages. The lower stages of their “Proton” project were still similar to Korolev’s original Vostok: a clustered engine with strap‑on boosters.

Buzz Aldrin was one of the back‑up team for Gemini X. When the primary crew of Gemini IX, Charlie Bassett and Elliott See were killed in a flying accident the new crew would be Tom Stafford and Gene Cernan. Jim Lovell and Buzz Aldrin became their backup crew.