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At 8:59, a sign of trouble Shuttle instruments signaled problem. By Anne Barnard, Globe Staff, 2/2/2003
In Houston, Mission Control's biggest concern was the weather, which looked perfect. Astronaut Kent Rominger had flown a shuttle-like aircraft along Columbia's route to its Florida landing strip to make sure the arrival would be smooth. An early-morning fog had burned off, so at 8:09 a.m., flight director Leroy Cain green-lighted the landing. In six minutes, a reverse engine blast would brake the craft and send it inexorably down into the atmosphere. Near the runway, the crew's families gathered on a set of bleachers. In Las Vegas, McCool's parents scanned the sky with binoculars. In Jerusalem, the father of Israel's first astronaut spoke on television about his son's imminent touchdown. Across the United States, space-program junkies such as John Tylko, who studied aeronautics at Massachusetts Institute of Technology, sat glued to NASA TV, listening to Mission Control's transmissions and the long, routine silences between. At 8:15:30, exactly on schedule, the engines fired. ''There is a very pronounced thump,'' said Thomas Jones, a former astronaut who flew four shuttle flights, one on Columbia. ''Not a noise so much as a lurch ... You'll feel a pressure against your back of the seat. ''
The rockets fired for two minutes and 38 seconds. Then McCool turned the aircraft around, lifting its nose and exposing its belly to the friction that would bloom into a fiery sheath around the shuttle, slowing it, by the time it would reach Florida, to an earthbound 200 miles per hour. At 8:44 a.m., over the Pacific, the shuttle made its first contact with the earth's atmosphere and began a glide through white-hot gas that Jones calls ''one of the most exhilarating [moments] you can experience.'' As the air thickens, the friction heats the atmosphere around the shuttle to 2,500 degrees Fahrenheit. Through the windows, Jones said, astronauts see a light show, with ''white flashes like lightning, pink and cotton-candy red.'' All seemed to be going smoothly. ''They're continuing toward Florida, passing the New Mexico-Texas border,'' NASA's commentator said on a tape Tylko made. The shuttle was moving at 13,200 miles per hour, its wings lifted about 57 degrees. The last transmission came just after 8:59 a.m. when shuttle instruments alerted crew members to rising air pressures in the landing gear tires, apparently their first indication of trouble. ''Columbia, Houston,'' said Mission Control. ''We see your tire-pressure messages, and we did not copy your last.'' An astronaut answered: ''Roger, uh ... '' Then the voice was cut off. Hours later, NASA released data that suggested mounting problems, though it's not clear if they caused worry at the time. At 8:53 a.m, the temperature monitor on the left wing failed. At 8:56, the landing gear heated up. At 8:58, several more left-side temperature sensors gave out. But at 9 a.m., no one was panicking. It's not uncommon to lose contact for a few seconds through the shuttle's halo of gas. The craft was 207,135 feet up, moving at 18.3 times the speed of sound. ''Flight controllers are continuing to stand by to regain communications with the spacecraft,'' the NASA commentator said. At 9:03, Mission Control said, ''Columbia, Houston, comm check.'' At 9:04, they tried a ground-based radio frequency: ''Columbia, Houston. UHF comm check.'' Still no answer. At home in Carrolton, Texas, north of Dallas, John Ferolito, 60, felt a blast. ''It was like a car hitting the house,'' he said. In Stamps, Ark., Terry Ruby got a call from her husband, who said he saw an explosion in the sky. `Terry, I think we are being attacked,'' he said. Sky watchers across Texas captured the fall on video: First a bright ball, then a smaller piece shooting backward, then a puff of smoke. Then the ball split into a series of shining objects, each with its own trail of smoke. At the landing site in Florida, the families watched a clock that counted down to the 9:16 a.m. landing. ''It counted down to zero,'' said Mike Chadwick, McCool's brother-in-law. ''We were looking around like, OK.'' But nothing happened. Next, he said, ''I saw a bunch of guys in suits huffing towards the parking lot.'' They were ''looking down at the ground and talking pretty quick.'' McCool's wife told Chadwick they were NASA executives. Worried, she climbed down the bleachers and joined the men. NASA officials were already on the phone to President Bush and Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge. At 9:29, they announced, with bureaucratic understatement, ''A space shuttle contingency has been declared.'' The nature of the ''contingency'' announced itself more dramatically in Nacogdoches, Texas. Jeff Hancock, a dentist, found a footlong metal bracket that crashed through the roof of his office. By 9:44, enough people had reported debris and scorched areas that NASA issued a warning not to touch the material because of the danger of toxic chemicals. However, they did not formally concede that the Columbia was lost until later. Based on history, the crew members had little reason to worry. Landings are usually smooth compared with the 81/2-minute launch. They had checked the reentry systems on Friday. Earlier, NASA made a decision, now under review, that a chunk of foam from a fuel tank that hit the left wing on takeoff posed no danger. Some may have floated through their last night in space, dozing weightless. Or they could have slept strapped in their bunks. Wakeup time was 1:39 a.m. At 5:35 a.m., the astronauts closed the doors to the payload bay to seal themselves in. They climbed into orange pressure suits and strapped themselves into their seats. Jones, the former astronaut, said they perished at the most exciting moment of space flight. ''There's a real thrill to feel the weight of gravity coming back to your body,'' he said. ''It's transforming itself from a spacecraft to an airplane. Everybody is just amazed and smiling at how this machine is bringing you back from orbit.'' Glen Johnson and Joanna Weiss of the Globe Staff and wire services contributed to this report. Anne Barnard can be reached at abarnard@globe.com.
This story ran on page A1 of the Boston Globe on 2/2/2003.
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t 8:03 a.m. yesterday, the space shuttle Columbia was streaking east at 17,500 miles per hour, upside down and backward. Strapped into their seats 176 miles above the Indian Ocean, with commander Rick Husband on the left and pilot William McCool on the right, the crew could glimpse their last views of the earth from space.
