Oct - Nov 98

OCTOBER 3rd, 1942

By Don Davis

The year 1942 was an especially crucial year of World War Two. Hitler's conquests had made him the momentary master of Europe. Germany's penetration of Russia was reaching its peak, with Stalingrad becoming the focus of unlimited resources for devastating attacks by the Germans, and for unrelenting defense by the Soviets. The armored colossi of Western and Eastern Europe grappled in a savage combat to the death, as massive a struggle as the entire rest of the War put together. In the Pacific the battles of Coral Sea and Midway began to check the military might of Japan, but most of the Pacific was still within their vast empire.

Big news was being made not just on the battlefields but in the scientific fronts, some of which took time for their significance to be generally realized.

On June 13, 1942 the first full-scale test flight of an A-4 was attempted. After rising for one second, the thrust petered out, causing the great projectile to settle back to Earth. The rocket's fins crumpled as it tumbled on its side. Smacking into the concrete, the fuel filled body burst like a water balloon, then flashed violently into a billowing inferno. Number 2 was launched August 16, and rose majestically until it spun out of control and exploded about 45 seconds into the flight, about 8 miles high. Numerous VIPs were on hand to witness that failure. The pressure was on.

The midsection of the missile was strengthened, and ongoing design improvements were incorporated into the next flight vehicle. By this time a do-or-die sentiment made everyone especially careful, they knew the hazards of being an expensive exotic government program unable to produce results in Nazi Germany. The turning point came on the third try.

The morning of October 3, 1942 was clear and beautiful at the Peenemunde complex. Atop one of the camouflage draped buildings Captain Walter Dornberger stood with a microphone in one hand and powerful binoculars in the other. A small television apparatus provided a picture of the tall A-4, which was hidden from direct view by a tree covered hill. The benevolence written into his features was starkly highlighted in the bright sun with lines of worry. This was going to be the critical demonstration of the worthiness of the idea he and his gathered talent had long slaved for.

Next to Dornberger stood his lifelong friend, Colonel Leo Zanssen. Both men had no love for the Nazis, and as military commander of Peenemunde, Zanssen had assisted Dornberger in keeping the Party types at arm's length.

The paved facilities around them gave way to green marshlands and coastal forests. A red brick cathedral stood above the green hills, clear in the noontime sun. On the isolated launch pad stood the results of everyone's best work, eagerly watched through periscopes by engineers in the nearby concrete buildings. The rocket showed graceful torpedo like contours dictated by the extremes of conditions it would experience.

Tinny voices on loudspeakers barked out the status of the various systems, and engineers were queried on how their part of the process was going. A voice over the loudspeaker called out "X minus three, counting off". White vapor poured from the oxygen tank valve near the base of the rocket, with a band of frost encircling the location of the tank itself well above the middle. The access platforms were moved away and the massive projectile stood alone as Man's newest challenge to the sky.

"X minus one" barked the announcer.

The 'Pennemunde Minute', legendary for it's subjectively great length, had begun. The preparations were over, and the situation was in the hands of the kind of fate people have prayed about in hopes of influencing it as they stand helplessly by. Dornberger forced himself to stare at the rocket and not at his watch. A green smoke trail appeared as a flare signaling 10 seconds left was released.

"Ignition" was loudly announced as sparks sprayed from the engine nozzle and quickly turned into a violent column of flame roaring against the concrete. Cables fell away from the rocket as smoke billowed around it. Now the missile was operating under it's own battery power. The announcement "Cleared" was made as the final buildup of thrust allowed the 13.5-ton machine to overcome gravity. Slowly, magnificently, the pointed tip of the A-4 rose above the smoke and into view.

Dornberger saw it emerge from the treetops, gleaming in the sun against the distant green scenery and then the blue sky, unleashing a column of bright flame nearly as long as the rocket itself. It rose steadily, straight and true with no spinning.

Five seconds after ignition, the thunder of the launch reached the buildings, the waves felt as well as heard while rippling through everything. The roar filled the skies and rolled over the forest and across the oceans beyond.

Higher and faster the rocket climbed, becoming lighter as fuel was spent, the continuing engine thrust acting against less weight every moment. Slowly the missile began its programmed tilt to a 45-degree angle to assure maximum range.

The seconds elapsed since the flight began were counted out continuously on the loudspeaker. Another speaker gave off a 'measuring tone' of a slowly changing pitch broadcast from the rocket. This gave an audible indication of the speed the vehicle was travelling due to the sensitivity of the receiver to the 'Doppler' shift of the rocket's transmitter. The tone changed from a low hum to a piercing trill as the speed built up.

During the otherwise monotonous counting, occasional flight milestones were announced, such as "sonic velocity." Now a liquid fuel rocket had surpassed supersonic speed, and so far nothing had gone wrong! Through the binoculars the rocket, shortened by perspective, spouted its orange flame brightly against the dark blue heavens. A half-minute had passed, and twice the speed of sound was reached. The rocket now flew higher than any mountain on Earth.

At forty seconds a trail of vapor appeared, and an announcer reassured everyone it was simply the oxygen vent opening. Now this rocket had lasted longer than its predecessor, blazing into unexplored territory. At the 54-second mark, engine cut off was announced, only the glowing vanes along the inner edges of the rear fins were seen as a tiny white speck at the end of the faint dark mass of the still climbing rocket.

As Dornberger at last put down his binoculars, he drew breath slowly, the excitement catching up to him. It had worked! Turning to Zanssen, who was tearfully laughing, they shook hands, yelled, and embraced like victorious schoolboys. Atop and between buildings people were shaking hands, clapping, and even dancing. Dornberger descended from his vantage point and grabbed a vehicle, weaving his way through the jubilant confusion. Spying Von Braun, he pulled him into the car and careened to the launch site to join the personnel gathering there.

By now the rocket was in it's fourth minute of flight, falling with great speed. Dornberger hushed everyone up to hear the end of the flight take place. The tone broadcast from the rocket still sounded, but the 3000 mile per hour speed of the missile was about to be quickly slowed by one third as it re-entered the dense atmosphere, and the danger of overheating and breakup haunted him. This was a moment of truth no less than the actual launch. Then a few seconds short of 5 minutes of flight, the measuring tone abruptly began lowering as the speed dropped during the atmospheric descent, with the word "Impact" cutting off the tone. Now it was an unqualified success!

A dye capsule in the rocket would reveal its location to a search plane. The impact point was some 124 miles distant, reaching an altitude nearly half that.

At the foot of the building Dornberger witnessed the launch from, an engineer placed a large boulder with the words "A great weight has fallen from my shoulders" painted on it.

That evening a small celebration was held in the officer's club with many key workers on the project addressed by Dornberger, at the triumphant gathering. "The history of technology will record that for the first time a machine of human construction, a 5.5 ton missile, covered a distance of 120 miles with a deflection of only two and a half miles from the target. ... Our self-steering rocket has reached heights never touched by any man-made machine ... nearly 60 miles. We have thus broken the world height record of 25 miles previously held by the shell fired from the now almost legendary Paris Gun. ... We have invaded space with our rocket and for the first time - mark this well - have used space as a bridge between two points on the Earth: we have proved rocket propulsion practicable for space travel. To land, sea, and air may now be added infinite space as a medium of future intercontinental traffic. This third day of October, 1942, is the first of a new era in transportation, that of space travel...."

"Storms on Jupiter"   By Andrew Stewart.
In Jupiter’s atmosphere, clouds formations create canyons and chasms the size of continents and moons.

Copyright © 1998
International Association of Astronomical Artists