Red Moon Rising Sputnik and the Rivalries That Ignited the Space Age - Matthew Brzezinski [142]
The problem with the WS-117L was that it relied on video image transmission, a technology that was still embryonic and would not be perfected for many years. Land and Killian were proposing an interim solution: cameras similar to those used on the U-2 would be launched by a two-stage Thor into orbit, where they would snap shots of Soviet targets and jettison canisters of film. The negatives, in heat-resistant containers, would fall back to earth at predetermined locations and deploy parachutes that could be recovered in midflight. Momentum for the proposal grew in November, as Sputnik II increased the sense of urgency that the WS-117L needed to be fast-tracked, and that the air force’s bureaucracy simply moved too slowly for the job. The Vanguard fiasco finally gave the CIA the opening it needed. In the stunned aftermath of the explosion, Allen Dulles, Jim Killian, and Neil McElroy quickly convinced Eisenhower to secretly promote the reconnaissance satellite to a “national security objective of the highest order,” a prerequisite for Bissell’s friendly CIA takeover.
The plan was set in motion over the next few weeks. “Our first goal was to put the genie back in the bottle,” Bissell recalled. The air force photoreconnaissance program had received far too much publicity; the New York Times had written about it in front-page stories, and Johnson’s subcommittee had discussed it in open sessions. The project would have to be canceled, and with as much fanfare as possible. They would pick a slow news day over the next few months for the Pentagon to make the announcement. Cost overruns, technical difficulties, or some other excuse would be invented. Outside of a few top generals like Schriever, not even the air force would be told the real reason. The program would be restarted on the sly under a new code name. “I had to invent an elaborate cover explanation,” Bissell recalled. Finances and procurement would be handled through bogus departments and fictitious front companies in much the same vein as the U-2. “We also had to have a plausible cover story for that part of the project that couldn’t be hidden from the public,” Bissell said. The frequent launches from Cape Canaveral would be explained by an IGY-inspired civilian research program that would build genuine research satellites and produce reports and studies. They would call it Discover, which had a peaceful, scientific ring. Its real code name would be Corona, after the typewriter on which Bissell outlined the takeover scheme. It would be the most ambitious, secretive, and costly operation in CIA history. If all went well, that is.
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Richard Bissell and Bruce Medaris were not the only ones to find a silver lining in Vanguard’s implosion. The catastrophe was also serving Lyndon Johnson well, as it presented fiery evidence of American missile missteps and focused public attention on the Preparedness hearings.
Never one to pass up a media opportunity, Johnson played the disaster for all it was worth. John Hagen, the soft-spoken Vanguard program director, was hauled in as a witness and bludgeoned until he confessed that funding shortages had contributed to his rocket’s less than spectacular debut. Johnson then set his sights on military missile programs, which he claimed suffered from the same penury, exposing America to the terrifying might of Soviet rockets. “Some awful