_Live From Cape Canaveral_ - Jay Barbree [26]
He was aware the flight wasn’t quite over. He still had to reach water in good shape. That meant the parachute system had to work.
Perfectly.
Above him, panel covers snapped away in the wind.
“The drogue is green at twenty-one, and the periscope is out.”
Down went Freedom Seven and Alan Shepard. The altimeter unwound and aimed for ten thousand feet where the main chute was to open. If it failed, well, he already had a finger on the “pull like hell ring” that would release the reserve.
“Standing by for main.”
Freedom Seven continued like the champ it had proven to be. “Through the periscope,” Shepard would later say, “I saw the most beautiful sight of the mission. That big orange-and-white monster blossomed above me so beautifully. It told me I was safe, all was well, I had done it, all of us had done it. I was home free.”
“Main on green,” he reported. “Main chute is reefed and it looks good.”
Freedom Seven swayed back and forth as it dropped lower. Compared to moments in his immediate past, Shepard was tiptoeing gently toward the ocean instead of crash landing a jet fighter on a carrier deck.
He opened his helmet’s faceplate. Quickly he disconnected all hoses and snaps. He wanted nothing to impede a hasty exit just in case the water landing went haywire.
He braced himself for–
SPLASHDOWN!
“Into the water we went with a good pop!” Shepard said, laughing over a drink with me later. “Abrupt, but not bad. No worse than the kick in the butt when I’m catapulted off a carrier deck.”
The spacecraft tipped on its side, bringing water over the right porthole. He smacked the switch to release the reserve parachute that kept the capsule top-heavy. He was thinking about the chimp’s near disappearance beneath the ocean. He began checking the cabin for leaks. He was ready to punch out at the first sight of the wet stuff pouring in.
The water didn’t come, and he stayed dry. Shifting the center of gravity worked, and the capsule came back upright.
Planes roared overhead. “Cardfile Two Three,” he called. “This is Freedom Seven, would you please relay all is okay?”
“This is Two Three; roger that.”
“This is Seven. Dye marker is out. Everything is okay. Ready for recovery.”
Green dye spread brilliantly across the ocean surface from Freedom Seven.
“Seven, this is Two Three. Rescue One will be at your location momentarily.”
It went like another practice run. Rescue One was overhead. Shepard opened the hatch, grabbed a harness dropped from the helicopter, and was winched aboard.
Rescue One turned for the prime recovery ship, the aircraft carrier USS Lake Champlain, and lowered itself gently onto the deck. “This is the best carrier landing I’ve ever made,” Shepard laughed.
He couldn’t wait to tell Deke and Gus and John and Gordo and Scott and Wally all about it.
They, the Mercury Seven, had done it!
FIVE
John Glenn
Alan Shepard’s success solidified questions for John Kennedy about America’s efforts in space. The young President knew the difference between American and Russian rockets. He accepted the fact that the Soviets had overwhelming superiority in size and power.
What the President also had come to realize was that in spite of appearances, the Russians were not ahead of America because they were better at science; it was the exact opposite. The Soviets had their monster boosters because they couldn’t build a smaller nuclear warhead. They needed the giants to get their five-ton, unsophisticated bombs to American targets. Our warheads, with the same destructive power, were much smaller. They needed only a third of the rocket power to reach their destinations.
For this reason, Kennedy was willing to take the long-range gamble that American science, technology, and industry would persevere and, with clearly defined goals, be able to surpass the Soviets.
At NBC we learned what the President was up to, and I jumped in. “Americans are going to the moon,” I reported, and my boss, Russ Tornabene, shouted down the phone line, “Barbree, I want you on this. Kennedy is speaking before Congress and it’s your story.