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By Root 604 0

But the overarching importance attached to STS-26 grated on us and the rest of the astronaut office. We felt Rick and his crew were wearing their fame too conspicuously, which was a grievous violation of astronaut commandment number two, “Thou shalt not glory in public adoration.” While the press marveled that anyone could be so brave as to fly on the first mission afterChallenger, every astronaut knew it would be the safest space mission ever flown. Not only had the SRBs been completely redesigned and retested, but every shuttle system had been put under a microscope, and appropriate changes had been made. Also, the STS-26 mission objective was relatively trivial, the release of a TDRS communications satellite, something that had been done several times in the past. Hoot called it “The Quiche Mission.” Another AD pilot observed, “We even let the girls release TDRSes.” But it was obvious the STS-26 crew thought their mission was the most important spaceflight since Angel Gabriel flew to the Virgin Mary. We all wearied of listening to their Monday morning pontifications on the criticality of STS-26 issues. When the limits of forbearance were finally exceeded, the glorious “Return to Flight” crew became a target of satire for the invisible “Swine Flight” crew.

The first public act of rebellion occurred at an astronaut reunion party. Shep and I were sitting at a bar when the helium balloons anchored as table decorations caught our eye. We grabbed a brace of these, ripped the nozzles open, and inhaled the gas. With squeaky falsetto voices we wandered through the audience introducing ourselves to legendary astronauts from the Apollo program. “Hi, I’m Rick Hauck, commander of the STS-26 crew. Would you like my autograph?” Meanwhile Buzz Aldrin, Pete Conrad, and other celebrity astronauts looked at us with expressions reading, “The astronaut corps has sure gone to hell.” Again and again we would run back to the bar for a swallow of beer and a hit of helium, and then it was off to another moonwalker. During one of these refills Shep must have gotten some bad gas and experienced a flashback to some combat event. His eyes glazed over and he fell into a thousand-yard stare and then, without provocation, he grabbed the collars of my golf shirt and ripped it open. I glanced around to ensure there were no knives on the bar, then retaliated. I grabbed his shirt and ripped it apart. A handful of TFNGs gathered around to watch me die. The 145-pound weakling had just kicked sand in the face of a knife-skilled SEAL. Fortunately for me, Shep’s post-traumatic stress passed quickly and he merely laughed at the tatters of his shirt. We drained our beers, took another helium hit, and headed back into the audience. I found Jim Lovell and in a Donald Duck voice repeated my lie, “Hi, I’m Rick Hauck, commander of the STS-26 crew. Would you like my autograph?” Lovell looked at me as if I were a derelict.

Swine Flight’s most outrageous assault on the sanctity of the STS-26 mission came after a fund-raiser for aChallenger -related charity. This was a black-tie affair and most astronauts and spouses were present. The venue was the downtown Houston performing arts center, the Wortham Center, and hundreds of local dignitaries and their spouses were in attendance. As the program drew to a close, the master of ceremonies brought a young girl on the stage to sing Lee Greenwood’s popular song, “I’m Proud to Be an American.” As she was belting out this arrangement at 150 decibels, the MC screamed into his microphone, “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the crew of STS-26, the Return to Flight Mission!” At this cue the orchestra pit platform began a slow rise. Artificial smoke swirled about it and spotlights flashed through the vapor. And there, to the astonishment of every astronaut, were Rick Hauck and Dick Covey. They stood like carvings on Mount Rushmore: chins jutted out, chests puffed up, arms rigidly at their sides, steely eyes straight ahead. The public crowd around us went wild with their cheers and applause. You would have thought the platform bore Jesus