The Co-formation and Giant Impact hypotheses are both supported by geological analysis of Moon rock. Many of the lunar rocks examined are estimated to be 4.6 billion years old—the same age as Earth’s oldest known geological specimens.
Throughout the ages, the Moon has functioned as a chronological and navigational marker. While only half as bright as the Sun, and reflecting just seven percent of its sunlight, a Full Moon is still the brightest object in the night sky; in the crescent phase, it is only 1/10th as bright as a full Moon.
When the Moon is on the horizon, it appears larger, but this is merely an optical illusion, as it is actually 1.5 percent smaller—the result of being further away from the observer by a distance up to one Earth radius. Reaching their maximum height during the winter months, full Moons have provided light for countless generations of nighttime travelers.
Man’s fascination with the Moon, stars, and planets evolved into the romantic notion of space flight. In 1865, novelist Jules Verne published From Earth to Moon, a fictional story about a lunar mission. In Verne’s tale, a rocket ship is launched from a giant cannon called Columbiad. With eerie prescience, Verne’s manned vehicle took off from Florida, orbited the Moon, and then splashed down in the Pacific Ocean.
A little over a century later, Verne’s fantasy would become reality, and his mode of travel distinctly futuristic.
CHAPTER 3
Vergeltungswaffe
To launch a vehicle into space requires momentous thrust to overcome Earth’s gravitational force. The age-old, but poorly refined science of rocketry proved to be the only reliable means of generating such thrust.
As early as 1232, the Chinese used rockets fueled by gunpowder during fireworks shows. In 1281, Italians from Bologna used rocket-propelled arrows against their rival-state enemies from Forli, calling the fearsome weapon a rochetto, meaning “cylindrical spool of thread.”
The earliest rockets were powered by solid fuels, namely gunpowder. While solid fuels could theoretically propel a rocket at sufficient velocity to reach outer space, a major drawback existed—once ignited, there was no control over the vehicle’s rate of combustion or amount of thrust.
Born in Russia on September 17, 1857, Konstantin Edvardovich Tsiolkovsky studied mathematics, physics, and astronomy, and then applied much of his creative energy to the study of rocketry. Tsiolkovsky’s research led him to believe that a rocket fuel mixture of liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen would generate considerably more power than black powder. By mixing two volatile liquids in a tight metal chamber and igniting them, Tsiolkovsky theorized that expanding gasses from the explosion could be vented through a hole at high speeds, propelling a rocket and its payload in the opposite direction. The Russian scientist’s Formula of Aviation defined the relationship between the speed and mass of a rocket as related to its specific propulsion fuel. Tsiolkovsky calculated that a velocity of 18,000 miles per hour was necessary to break the Earth’s gravitational force, and also determined that the most efficient way to achieve this goal was to utilize a multi-staged launch rocket.
German mathematics teacher Hermann Julius Oberth, born in Transylvania on June 25, 1894, wrote in detail about space travel in his 1923 treatise, The Rocket into Interplanetary Space. Six years later, in a separate publication, Way to Space Travel, Oberth outlined the feasibility of using liquid-fueled rockets. That same decade, Oberth and other German rocketeers formed the Verein fur Raumschiffahrt (VfR)—the “Society for Space Travel.”
Robert Hutchings Goddard, born on October 5, 1882, is widely regarded as America’s first true rocket scientist. A native of Massachusetts, Goddard was educated at Worcester Polytechnic Institute, and later taught physics at Clark University.
The New Englander’s passion for rocketry began during his childhood and eventually became his life’s work. At the age of 27, Goddard published A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes, which hypothesized that a rocket launched from Earth could reach the Moon. Like many visionaries, the young rocketeer encountered numerous skeptics. In January of 1920, the New York Times harshly criticized Goddard’s theory that rockets could be utilized for space exploration: “He seems only to lack the knowledge ladled out daily in high schools.” Forty-nine years later, as Apollo 11 raced to the Moon, the famed newspaper published a retraction to its article criticizing Goddard.
Goddard launched his first liquid-fueled rocket from his Aunt’s farm in Auburn, Massachusetts in March of 1926. Nicknamed Nell, the 10-feet-tall, 10.25-pound rocket was powered by gasoline and liquid oxygen contained in fuel tanks attached by rigid tubes to a small engine. Once the gasoline and oxygen mixture was ignited in the combustion chamber, the hot gasses exploded out a small nozzle at the base of the rocket. Racing into the air at 60 miles per hour, Nell’s maiden voyage lasted a mere 2.5 seconds, reaching an altitude of only 41 feet, before landing 184 feet down range; nonetheless, it was a milestone in the science of rocketry.
After consulting with a meteorologist at Clark University, Goddard determined that the climate of New Mexico was ideal for year-round rocket launches. In July of 1930, Goddard, his wife, and four assistants, along with a freight car filled with rocket equipment, relocated to a remote area known as Eden Valley, near Roswell, New Mexico. There, Goddard established a rocket science laboratory and test range, which included a launch pad and tower.
Derisively nicknamed “Moony” Goddard by his critics, the ambitious, but intensely private rocketeer received little support from the government. Over the course of four years, philanthropist Daniel Guggenheim provided Goddard with an annual $25,000.00 grant, while famed aviator Charles Lindbergh helped raise additional funds, enabling the rocket scientist to pursue his dreams.
With the passage of time, Goddard’s rockets grew more sophisticated, including the installation of gyroscopes. In 1929, Goddard launched the first instrument-containing rocket, which carried a thermometer, barometer, and camera high into the sky. Another of his liquid-fueled rockets broke the speed of sound (Mach 1) in 1935. Goddard subsequently developed a rocket that could travel 1.5 miles into the air at a velocity of 550 miles per hour.
Goddard continued to test rockets at his isolated desert facility for the remainder of his life. In spite of his many successes, Goddard was never able to interest the U.S. military in rocket-propelled weaponry. Eventually granted over 200 patents, Goddard continued to pioneer rocket science technology until his death in 1945. In his final days, he offered a vision of the future: “It is just a matter of imagination how far we can go with rockets. I think it is fair to say, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Following in the footsteps of Robert Goddard, Wernher von Braun ultimately became the most successful rocket scientist of the 20th century. Born on March 25, 1912 in Wilintz Germany, von Braun developed a passion for space exploration and rocketry at an early age, devouring the science fiction of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. After reading those futuristic tales, von Braun was “filled with a romantic urge,” and “longed to soar through the heavens and actually explore the mysterious universe.” To further his scientific knowledge, von Braun carefully studied the technical writings of Herman Oberth.
In his youth, von Braun caught the attention of villagers by launching rockets into an apple stand and bakery; his father later remembered it as a time of “broken windows” and “destroyed flower gardens.” On one occasion, he attached six large, store-bought fireworks rockets to his wooden pull-wagon. After ignition, von Braun attempted to pilot his rocket-propelled vehicle down the sidewalk, as panicked pedestrians leapt out of the way. The police took Wernher in for questioning after his ill-advised experiment, but released him to his father, who promised to take responsibility for the youngster’s punishment. In spite of his misadventures, von Braun’s curiosity never diminished, and while still a teenager, he joined the rocket club, Verein fur Raumschiffahrt.
At age 23, von Braun graduated from Friedrich-Wilhelm University in Berlin, earning a PhD in physics; the subject of his dissertation
was liquid-fueled rockets. Early in his career, von Braun worked for the Society for Space Travel, along with other rocket researchers, all of whom shared the dream of space travel.
Standing five-feet, eleven-inches-tall, von Braun was handsome and square-jawed, with a thick head of blond hair. Athletic and fluent in several languages, the rocket scientist was charming and gregarious, and cultivated a variety of interests, including music (he played both the piano and cello), philosophy, religion, geography, and politics. Von Braun was also a gifted writer, spell-binding orator, skilled draftsman, and a pilot.
The Treaty of Versailles, which formally ended World War I, punitively limited German arms production. The treaty, however, made no provisions concerning rockets, which were not yet considered viable weapons of war. Accordingly, the German Army assigned artillery officer, Captain Walter Dornberger, the task of assessing how best to exploit this loophole.
In 1932, a year before Adolf Hitler rose to power, von Braun and his fellow researchers were recruited by Dornberger to develop rockets for military use. Von Braun later defended the career decisions of his rocket team as mere stepping stones toward their ultimate dream: “We were interested in only one thing—the exploration of space.”
Following World War II, when Nazi atrocities were exposed to the world, von Braun was repeatedly forced to explain his early career path: “…We needed money, and the Army seemed willing to help us. In 1932, the idea of war seemed an absurdity. The Nazis weren’t in power. We felt no moral scruples about the possible future use of our brainchild.”
As a military employee, von Braun began his tenure at Kummersdorf-West, an artillery proving ground, located south of Berlin. In 1937, von Braun and his rocket development team moved to Peenemunde, on the Baltic coast, near Usedom. There, he was appointed technical director of the Army Research Center, and assigned the task of developing the world’s first ballistic missiles.
Shortly after arriving at Peenemunde, von Braun joined the Nazi Party, perhaps naively unaware of the future ramifications of his decision. In later years, he contended that he was “officially demanded” to join the fascist organization, and had he refused, it would have meant abandoning “the work of my life.”
“My membership in the party did not involve any political activity,” von Braun explained.
In 1940, von Braun joined the notorious paramilitary Schutzstuffel (SS), at the bequest of its infamous leader Heinrich Himmler, and was awarded the rank of Unterstürmfuhrer (Lieutenant). For the remainder of his life, von Braun would downplay his SS membership, pointing out that he did not use his officer’s rank on official correspondence, and wore his black dress uniform, with its swastika arm band, only when absolutely necessary. As the war progressed and the Nazi bloodbath expanded, von Braun was promoted to Hauptsturmführer (Captain) and then Sturmbannführer (Major).
The German Army directed von Braun to develop operational ballistic missiles. The end result was the Aggregat-4 (A-4), which the German Propaganda Ministry later renamed the Vergeltungswaffe-2 (V-2), meaning vengeance weapon.
The winged V-2 rocket, 46-feet-long and weighing 14 tons, was fueled by ethyl alcohol and liquid oxygen, and stabilized by four fins and four rudders. Two gyroscopes, mounted in the nose beneath the explosive warhead, guided the weapon to its target. The missile was capable of striking targets up to 500 miles away from the launch site. Traveling at 2,500 mph and armed with a 2,200 pound warhead, the V-2 was treacherous and deadly.
After two test failures, in March and August of 1942, the first V-2 was successfully launched on October 3rd of that year. The test missile reached an altitude of 60 miles, and left a lasting impression on rocket scientist, Krafft Ehricke: “It looked like a fiery sword going into the sky…It is very hard to describe what you feel when you stand on the threshold of a whole new era…We knew the space age had begun.”
In early July of 1943, von Braun and his military supervisor, Walter Dornberger, briefed Adolf Hitler on the V-2 rocket. The duo informed the Fuhrer that the weapon, armed with 2,000 pounds of explosives, was fully capable of attacking London; furthermore, the British would be powerless to intercept it. With characteristic megalomania, Hitler immediately ordered production of 2,000 V-2 missiles per month.
The first V-2 rockets were launched against London shortly after D-Day (June 6, 1944). Famed CBS News anchorman Walter Cronkite, who at the time was an UPI war correspondent, vividly recalled the frightening attacks, describing the V-2 rockets as “devilish weapons.”
A mere five minutes after launch, the devastating rockets terrorized Londoners, who were accustomed to hearing air raid sirens and the drone of approaching German bombers prior to an impending attack. Instead, the unsuspecting civilians were stunned by a “ball of light” and a “terrible crack.” One resident described the dilemma posed by the V-2 rockets: “There was no alert…We had no warning at all.”
A total of 4,000 V-2 rockets were fired at Allied targets in England, France, and Belgium during the course of World War II; 1,403 of those attacks occurred on London and other targets in southern England. An estimated 5,400 people, more than 2/3rd of whom were civilians, died as a result of V-2 attacks.
After Allied bombing raids targeted Peenemunde, the V-2 production facilities were moved to an underground facility in the Harz Mountains, near Nordhausen. Most of the nearly 5,000 workers who participated in the construction of the Nordhausen facility were concentration camp inmates.
The overseer of the Nordhausen construction project, located in a 35 million cubic-feet former anhydrite mine, was a notoriously brutal SS General, Hans Kammler. Prisoners, including Russians, French, Poles, and later Jews, were sent from Buchenwald Concentration Camp to Dora, just outside Nordhausen. The inmates, who were tasked with enlarging the caverns, were subjected to overcrowded, horrendous conditions. The cold, damp, dusty air, absent adequate ventilation, was hazardous to their respiratory systems. There were no running water or sewage facilities, and the raggedly-clad prisoners were forced to sleep in open bunk beds, stacked four high. Consequently, epidemics of pneumonia, dysentery, and typhus were widespread.
Some of the more rebellious inmates attempted to sabotage the rockets during the assembly process; those caught tampering with missiles, as well as those perceived as slackers, were severely beaten and/or executed by their Nazi overseers. An estimated 20,000 prisoners died at Dora/Nordhausen—in the end, more people died during the construction of V-2 rockets than were killed by the heinous weapons during the course of the war.
While von Braun denied playing any role in the decision to use slave labor or in administering the work detail, he was undoubtedly aware of the miserable conditions. Von Braun and his colleagues’ association with the atrocities at Nordhausen would be called into question numerous times in later years. Von Braun biographer, Michael Neufield, aptly described the rocket scientist’s involvement with the Nazis, as a means to further his dreams of space exploration, a “Faustian bargain.”
While serving as a Nazi pawn, von Braun never lost sight of his dream to employ rockets for uses other than weaponry. After he published an article in a scientific journal promoting the use of rockets for international mail delivery, Gestapo Chief Heinrich Himmler ordered the rocketeer jailed for “lack of attention” to the war effort, as well as trumped up charges that von Braun was associating with Communists. Walter Dornberger, von Braun’s military supervisor, convinced Hitler to release the rocket scientist from imprisonment, arguing that his expertise was indispensable to the V-2 program.
Von Braun and his colleagues continued to dream of using rocket technology for peaceful means. After an early V-2 test launch, one German scientist was overheard saying: “There goes the world’s first space vehicle.”
In the spring of 1945, as Germany’s defeat appeared all but certain, von Braun gathered his rocket design and development team together to discuss their future. Aware that the end of the war was rapidly approaching, he outlined their options: “We despise the French,
we are mortally afraid of the Soviets; we do not believe the British can afford us, so that leaves the Americans.
On May 2nd of that year, von Braun and his colleagues surrendered to American military forces. Ignoring an order, issued six weeks earlier by a desperate Adolf Hitler, instructing the rocketeers to destroy all equipment and paperwork related to the V-2 program, von Braun and his colleagues hid nearly 14 tons of records in an abandoned mine near Bleicherode, and then dynamited the shaft to seal off its contents. After surrendering, the rocket team turned over to U.S. military officials some 3,500 detailed reports and more than 500,000 rocket blueprints stored in the secret hideaway.
The V-2 facility at Nordhausen fell within the Soviet Union’s post-war occupation zone. While ultimately recovering only 20 V-2 rockets, the Soviets conscripted their share of German experts in aviation, nuclear energy, electronics, radar, and rocket science. Prior to Soviet occupation of Nordhausen, Major James Pottamill, a ranking officer in the U.S. Army Ordnance Division, orchestrated the removal of parts for nearly 100 V-2 rockets and a “large collection of plans, manuals, and other documents.” Those items were transported to the United States, before the Soviets became aware of the subterfuge.
Werner von Braun and his colleagues immigrated to the United States beginning in September of 1945. When a small “advance guard” of higher ranking rocket scientists crossed over the Saar River from Germany to France, en route to a plane that would transport them to the United States, von Braun reminded his colleagues of the consequences of their actions: “Well take a good look at Germany, fellows. You may not see it for a long time to come.”
By mid-1946, 118 German rocket scientists, technicians, and their families were settled into their new home at Fort Bliss, Texas, under the direct supervision of the U.S. Army’s 9330th Ordnance Technical Service Unit. The massive relocation effort was first named Operation Overcast, but later changed to Operation Paperclip (in reference to the metal clasps used to bind the Germans’ immigration forms). The recruitment and relocation of the German scientists and technicians proved fortuitous, as the U.S. military had no missile technology, even in the planning stages, that was as sophisticated as the V-2 rocket.
The Eagle Has Landed: The Story of Apollo 11 Page 2
