could usually land on a predetermined spot on the runway.
Flying jets at Edwards Air Force Base, around 1965
We were a mixed bunch of pilots. Many of us were in the air force, of course, but we had naval and marine corps aviators there, too. I was more of an outsider, because I came in as an instructor, but we all stood up for each other and were a very supportive group. We were being groomed to fly winged vehicles that would go into space, such as the X-15. The air force had recently canceled a proposed space plane, the X-20 Dyna-Soar. They considered it too expensive and difficult to develop. A new air force space program, the Manned Orbital Laboratory or MOL, was being developed instead. We also couldn’t help but notice that many of NASA’s astronauts came from Edwards and had backgrounds similar to ours. The space agency had been selecting astronauts since 1959 and flying them in space since 1961. Since the day I missed Al Shepard’s spaceflight on TV, NASA’s space program had progressed at an astonishing pace. By 1965 they were flying impressive two-pilot space missions in their new Gemini spacecraft. Despite the promise of the MOL program, NASA was the only organization putting astronauts into orbit.
We had a bizarre spaceflight simulator at Edwards, shaped like a doughnut ring that could move in three different axes. When strapped into it, pilots could train for some of the spacewalk experiences of a spaceflight. One week, a couple of astronauts from NASA showed up to practice on it, and I was asked to help instruct them. Gene Cernan and Charlie Bassett were assigned to the forthcoming Gemini 9 mission: Bassett planned to make a spacewalk, and Cernan was training as his backup. Charlie had been through the test pilot school at Edwards himself only a few years earlier, and he impressed me right away. I flew with him that week and learned that he was an incredibly good pilot and a friendly guy whom I chatted with a lot. Meeting him made me think how good it might be to join the astronaut group at NASA. If I were really lucky, I might even fly a mission with Charlie. A number of fellow Edwards pilots probably had the same thought that year: Ed Mitchell, Stu Roosa, Charlie Duke, Bob Crippen, Dick Truly, Hank Hartsfield, and Bob Overmyer were all at Edwards around the same time. Although it took some of us many years, eventually we all made spaceflights for NASA.
It surprised me when, less than a year after arriving at Edwards, I heard an intriguing announcement: there would be another opportunity to apply to become an astronaut. NASA was looking for pilots for its fifth intake, and in September of 1965 a number of us applied. There were actually two astronaut groups we could apply for: NASA’s group and the air force’s own MOL program. The air force had chosen the same moment because they didn’t want NASA to take all of the top pilots. You could apply to one, the other, or both programs at once. I applied to NASA only; I figured the air force would steal all of the best pilots from the dual selection but would never get their own space program off the ground. I didn’t know much about NASA yet, but I knew the air force didn’t have a good track record for that kind of program.
I applied to become an astronaut because, professionally, I figured it couldn’t get any better than that. Even being a test pilot couldn’t compare with becoming an astronaut and making a spaceflight. That also seemed to be the general feeling amongst Edwards pilots. I knew that I was only able to apply because Yeager had pulled me back to the States; otherwise I would still have been in England for this selection period. I was thirty-three years old, not far under the maximum age limit, and if I didn’t make the cut I’d probably be too old for NASA’s next intake. This was my last chance, and I knew it. I sent in the required stack of paperwork, including military efficiency reports, flying time, and a complete
Flying jets at Edwards Air Force Base, around 1965
We were a mixed bunch of pilots. Many of us were in the air force, of course, but we had naval and marine corps aviators there, too. I was more of an outsider, because I came in as an instructor, but we all stood up for each other and were a very supportive group. We were being groomed to fly winged vehicles that would go into space, such as the X-15. The air force had recently canceled a proposed space plane, the X-20 Dyna-Soar. They considered it too expensive and difficult to develop. A new air force space program, the Manned Orbital Laboratory or MOL, was being developed instead. We also couldn’t help but notice that many of NASA’s astronauts came from Edwards and had backgrounds similar to ours. The space agency had been selecting astronauts since 1959 and flying them in space since 1961. Since the day I missed Al Shepard’s spaceflight on TV, NASA’s space program had progressed at an astonishing pace. By 1965 they were flying impressive two-pilot space missions in their new Gemini spacecraft. Despite the promise of the MOL program, NASA was the only organization putting astronauts into orbit.
We had a bizarre spaceflight simulator at Edwards, shaped like a doughnut ring that could move in three different axes. When strapped into it, pilots could train for some of the spacewalk experiences of a spaceflight. One week, a couple of astronauts from NASA showed up to practice on it, and I was asked to help instruct them. Gene Cernan and Charlie Bassett were assigned to the forthcoming Gemini 9 mission: Bassett planned to make a spacewalk, and Cernan was training as his backup. Charlie had been through the test pilot school at Edwards himself only a few years earlier, and he impressed me right away. I flew with him that week and learned that he was an incredibly good pilot and a friendly guy whom I chatted with a lot. Meeting him made me think how good it might be to join the astronaut group at NASA. If I were really lucky, I might even fly a mission with Charlie. A number of fellow Edwards pilots probably had the same thought that year: Ed Mitchell, Stu Roosa, Charlie Duke, Bob Crippen, Dick Truly, Hank Hartsfield, and Bob Overmyer were all at Edwards around the same time. Although it took some of us many years, eventually we all made spaceflights for NASA.
It surprised me when, less than a year after arriving at Edwards, I heard an intriguing announcement: there would be another opportunity to apply to become an astronaut. NASA was looking for pilots for its fifth intake, and in September of 1965 a number of us applied. There were actually two astronaut groups we could apply for: NASA’s group and the air force’s own MOL program. The air force had chosen the same moment because they didn’t want NASA to take all of the top pilots. You could apply to one, the other, or both programs at once. I applied to NASA only; I figured the air force would steal all of the best pilots from the dual selection but would never get their own space program off the ground. I didn’t know much about NASA yet, but I knew the air force didn’t have a good track record for that kind of program.
I applied to become an astronaut because, professionally, I figured it couldn’t get any better than that. Even being a test pilot couldn’t compare with becoming an astronaut and making a spaceflight. That also seemed to be the general feeling amongst Edwards pilots. I knew that I was only able to apply because Yeager had pulled me back to the States; otherwise I would still have been in England for this selection period. I was thirty-three years old, not far under the maximum age limit, and if I didn’t make the cut I’d probably be too old for NASA’s next intake. This was my last chance, and I knew it. I sent in the required stack of paperwork, including military efficiency reports, flying time, and a complete
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