7 ASTRONAUTS, ‘CHALLENGER’ LOST IN TRAGIC EXPLOSION

This account was published in the Miami Herald on Jan. 29, 1986, a day after the Challenger exploded over Cape Canaveral.

It was their moment of triumph, a moment any parent could understand. Ed and Grace Corrigan’s daughter, teacher Christa McAuliffe, was on her way into space, into the history books.

So they stood in the sunshine Tuesday, Ed and Grace Corrigan, arm in arm in the bleachers at Cape Canaveral, and they watched in triumph. And then in disbelief. And then in horror.

Something terrible had happened. And now, a NASA official was making his way to them. He was walking up the bleachers, slowly, row by row. And with every step, he was sealing their fate.

Finally, he arrived, as they knew he must. “The vehicle has exploded,” he said. Mrs. Corrrigan looked back at him, and after a moment, she could find only these words, an echo really:

“The vehicle has exploded?”

The man nodded, and he was silent.

It was unthinkable. It was impossible. There were backup systems for backup systems. The space shuttle, indeed the entire space program, represented all that was excellent in American technology and in America itself.

And yet, it happened, in full view of millions of Americans, many of them impressionable schoolchildren. The shuttle and its precious human cargo were gone, incinerated in a fireball, debris raining into the Atlantic.

• • •

In heartbreaking retrospect, the liftoff appeared perfect. We had come to expect nothing else.

Challenger was poised on launch pad 39B, a refurbished moon rocket facility, a pad that had not been used for some time. Long delayed by weather, the flight had overcome two last-minute snags caused by seemingly minor computer and weather problems.

Now, all was ready, and NASA spokesman Hugh Harris ended the 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 countdown in a cheer of “Liftoff!” It was 11:38 a.m.

“Liftoff of the 25th shuttle mission and it has cleared the tower!” Harris exclaimed.

Challenger sliced through a clear blue sky, away from the launch pad on a catapult of orange flame. In a normal maneuver, the spacecraft rolled on its back as it arched out over the Atlantic. Mission Control proceeded with its familiar litany of spacespeak. “Roll program confirmed. Challenger now heading down range. The engines are throttling…”

In classrooms across the country, children were watching this latest shuttle flight with special interest. Teacher Christa McAuliffe had been selected from 11,146 applicants to be the first to fly in NASA’s citizen-in-space program.

Near the end of its first minute of flight, the shuttle was soaring at a speed of 1,538 miles per hour. It was 4.9 miles high and 3.5 miles out over the ocean.

Mission Control flashed a message to the shuttle: “Challenger, go throttle up.” That was the order to accelerate to maximum thrust, ending a period of 60 percent thrust designed to reduce gravity’s effect.

“Roger, go at throttle up.” It was the final statement heard from Challenger.

Commander Francis Scobee increased power to the main engines. Within seconds, the craft was hurtling at 1,977 miles per hour, three times the speed of sound. It was 10.4 miles high, eight miles over the ocean.

The shuttle’s auxiliary boosters use a solid propellant; its main booster burns liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen. Under control, the volatile combination can boost Challenger out of this world. Out of control, it can be a devastating explosive.

Seconds later, the unthinkable happened.

A bright orange ball of fire engulfed the shuttle, nearly vaporizing much of it. One of Challenger’s two strap-on solid rockets veered to the right and began spiraling through the sky.

On the ground, unaware of what was happening overhead, Mission Control maintained its patter for several long seconds:

“We’re at a minute, 15 seconds, velocity 2,900 feet per second, altitude 9 nautical miles, range distance 7 nautical miles.”

In reality, Challenger no longer existed.

Finally, after a period of silence, authorities confirmed what so many eyes had seen. And when confirmation came, it came with the depth of control expected from trained technicians, from America’s best.

“Flight controllers are looking very carefully at the situation,” Mission Control said mechanically. “Obviously, a major malfunction.”

Credit: MARTIN MERZER; MIAMI HERALD