Starman_ The Truth Behind the Legend of Yuri Gagarin - Jamie Doran [35]
In fact, the early Vostok capsules needed little help destroying themselves. The first prototype, launched on May 15, 1960, spiralled out of control in space and was lost. Two dogs, Chaika and Lisichka, were put aboard another Vostok on July 28, after the capsule had been modified in the hope of improving it. Now came the R-7’s chance to disappoint its makers. Shortly after launch the rocket blew itself to pieces, dogs and all. The Vostok cosmonauts were at Baikonur that day on their first familiarization visit, and they witnessed the launch of the vehicle which, supposedly, was designed to carry them safely into space. Gherman Titov wryly recalls, ‘We saw how the rocket could fly. More important, we saw how it blows up.’
On August 19 two more dogs, Strelka and Belka, were sent into space. This time, much to Korolev’s relief, the R-7 settled into its climb and the mission proceeded smoothly. Both dogs made it safely back to the ground after seventeen orbits. There was much appreciation in the world’s press. Nikita Khrushchev was delighted. Privately, Korolev and the space doctors were disturbed by a small incident during the flight. Belka became dizzy with the weightlessness and vomited into the cabin. Did this mean that humans would also become ill up there? Cameras in the ship recorded the dogs’ demeanour throughout. Obviously the journey had not entertained them, but they seemed fine once they were back on the ground.
On September 19, 1960, Korolev formally submitted his proposal for a human flight, and the Central Committee of the Communist Party approved his request. Ten senior figures signed the documents: Korolev; his old ally, the mathematics and computer expert Mtislav Keldysh; the doomed, glory-seeking Chief of Missile Deployment, Marshal Nedelin; the Chief of Defence Marshal Ustinov; a watchful Valentin Glushko . . . If the new adventure was successful, that would mean glory all round. If there was any ‘unpleasantness’, then ten people could pass the buck.7
Korolev planned to launch a cosmonaut by the end of 1960, but Vostok still refused to cooperate. On December 1 another hapless pair of dogs was burned to a crisp when their re-entry ball came down at too steep an angle. On December 22 (the rate of launches was frenetic) a fresh duo of dogs survived an emergency ejection in their special pod, when the R-7 booster ran out of thrust halfway up its climb into orbit. The upper stage’s engine did not catch alight and Vostok fell back to earth.
The medical experts exposed many dogs to unpleasant laboratory experiments with barely a second’s thought, but the rocket engineers had more feeling for their canine cosmonauts. Yuri Mazzhorin remembers a dramatic race-against-the-clock rescue, in which the space community’s concern for one of their animals overcame their fear of the 10-kilo explosive devices in the prototype capsules. ‘In 1960, approximately in March, we launched a one-hour flight with a dog. All of a sudden we were advised that the flight was aborted and we weren’t getting any more data. Straight away we calculated where the capsule would fall. It was approximately in the area of Tunguska, Siberia region, coincidentally near where a big meteorite fell in 1908. Everyone was upset and said it was a pity the dog would be blown up. Suddenly a signal came through from radio aerials attached to the parachute lines. It meant the ship had survived.’
This was good news, except for a couple of minor details. When they realized the orbit was failing, the controllers had sent up a ‘destruct’ command. Nothing happened. Obviously the ship was still in one piece when it began its uncontrolled re-entry, but there was no signal to confirm that the dog had escaped in its ejection pod. Perhaps it was still trapped in the re-entry ball? And was the explosive back-up timer activated?