Riding Rockets - Mike Mullane [50]
Many years later astronauts were outraged when a pilot’s medical records were compromised to the press. Some in the media were questioning his suitability to command an important shuttle mission since he had been treated for kidney stones. Astronauts were livid that the flight surgeon’s office had somehow leaked this private medical information. As the brouhaha raged, I told a fellow TFNG, “I don’t care if they publish my medical records in theNew York Times. I just hope the record of my condom size is locked up in a vault in Cheyenne Mountain.” He understood. There are worse things to read about in the paper than the fact that you have passed a kidney stone.
Chapter 14
Adventures in Public Speaking
With the astronaut title came two duties few of us had ever performed in our past careers: giving public speeches and press interviews. While NASA didn’t force astronauts onto the speaking circuit, they did expect everybody to voluntarily take about a dozen trips a year to represent the agency at the head tables of America. The astronaut office received hundreds of requests a month for speakers, so there were plenty of events to pick from.
Like the majority of people, most astronauts fear public speaking more than death. As the joke goes, “Most people would rather be in the casket than delivering the eulogy.” I witnessed this hierarchy of terrors one dark and stormy night in the backseat of a T-38. My pilot was Blaine Hammond (class of 1984). After finishing a day of practice shuttle approaches at the White Sands shuttle runway, we were making a night takeoff from El Paso’s airport for our return to Houston. Our eastward departure was sending us into an ink black sky over a similarly darkened desert. Just as Blaine pulled the nose from the runway, I noticed a yellow flickering in the cockpit rearview mirrors and was about to comment on it when the El Paso tower interrupted. “Departing NASA jet, you’re on fire. There’s a flame trailing from your aircraft.” We were already airborne and well beyond our maximum abort speed. We had no choice but to continue our climb. I quickly informed Blaine of the flickering yellow in the mirrors. Clearly, our jet was burning behind us. Blaine yanked the engines out of afterburner (AB) and declared an emergency. El Paso tower immediately cleared us to land on any runway we could make. My thoughts were on ejection. The checklist was clear: In bold lettering it read, “Confirmed Fire—Eject.” You don’t get better confirmation than having the tower tell you you’re riding a meteor. I cinched my harness to the point of pain and placed my hands on the ejection handles and mentally reviewed the bailout procedures. As I was doing so, I continued to watch the engine instruments. The nozzle position on the left engine was the only off-nominal indication. At the power setting of the throttle the nozzle should have been more closed than what was indicated. There were no firelights and the fire-warning circuitry checked okay. I snatched my mask from my face and breathed the ambient air. There was no odor of smoke. The tower was telling us we were on fire, but there was no indication of it in the cockpit.
“Something’s wrong with the left engine. I’m going to keep it at idle and make a single-engine approach.” Blaine stated his intention and immediately banked the plane toward the nearest runway.
I challenged the decision. “That’s not what the checklist says we should be doing.” I didn’t have to say the wordeject. Blaine knew the emergency procedures as well as I did.
“I know, but she’s flying fine.” I could tell in his voice Blaine was as frightened as I was about our predicament. The planewas flying fine and neither of us wanted to leave the security of his cockpit for the black outside. The thought of pulling those handles was absolutely terrifying. But, by staying with the plane, we were in clear violation of the emergency procedures.
I heard the tower wave off an airliner to give us every option for landing.