Shortly after the Soviet Union launched the Sputnik satellite in the late 1950's, military and civilian intelligence agencies knew that the race was on to use orbiting spacecraft as information gathering tools. In the 1960's and 70's dozens of reconnaissance satellites were launched to peer down on the "evil empire" as the Cold War continued. Satellites with cameras, radio receivers and a variety of special sensors were sent up to gather data on Soviet activities. The Soviets did the same to spy on us.
Getting the data contained in those orbiting satellites back down to intelligence analysts was but one of the technical challenges to be met. The film in those special cameras and the tape recordings of vital electronic signals needed to be on the ground. It was not as simple as taking the film down to thecorner drug store for developing for the camera was several hundred miles overhead in orbit.
Government engineers and aerospace contractors devised a unique method for getting that vital data down to intelligence experts, and this is where our Hercules transport comes into the picture. Tracking ground stations signalled the satellite to fire its retro-rockets. That slowed the satellite causing it to fall into the atmosphere. At about 30,000 feet automatically a parachute opened and a radio transmitter permitted airplanes to home-in towards the descending payload. Airplanes would have to catch the payload before it splashed into the ocean or crashed ontothe rocks. The payload data must not be lost or destroyed.
Two problems had to be overcome to effect recovery. The point of re-entry must be controlled to make sure that recovery airplanes rendezvous with the parachute in time. It would not be helpful if the payload landed where the Soviets could get to it first. The second problem was helping the recovery airplanes to locate the payload during descent before splashdown.
The pilot of our particular JC-130 transport was about to make a test recovery of a satellite payload. What made the flight unique was that this recovery was to be made at night, one of the very first attempts to catch a payload in darkness. It is difficult enough to make airborne retrievals in daylight, but a catch in the dark is a real challenge. The pilot must be able to see the parachute and maneuver his airplane to be slightly above it while attempting to snare the quarry.
An array of grappling hooks and cables hung below and behind the transport to engage the parachute. Placing those hooks into the parachute, without flying into the canopy or fouling the propellors in the showd lines required precise flying skills.
In the planes'e cargo bay other crew members prepared for the catch. A winch, equipped with hydraulic brakes, stood ready to unwind almost fifteen hundred feet of cable in barely four seconds as the parachute engaged the hooks. Braking would slow the cable to bring the payload into steady trail behind the plane. Then, like a fisherman retreiving his prize, the winch would wind the cable to draw the parachute and payload into the cargo bay.
It was dangerous work for the cargo handlers too, for several things could go wrong. The rapidly unwinding cable could become fouled and instant death awaited the crewman caught by thatmetallic snake.
The hooks might tear through the parachute after the cable pulled taut. The risk that hooks might recoil back into the airplane was high. And the wind turbulence near the open cargo doors could suck an unwary crewman out into thin air. A variety of hazards had to be faced until the payload was secured within the cargo bay.
The pilot and copilot anxiously scanned the starlit sky for a first glimpse of the parachute. Could they even see that thirty-foot hemisphere of nylon with its suspended payload? It was really black out there. And where should they look? .. to the south? .. or westward towards the Sierra Nevadas?
Fortunately, the payload's radio signal was being received by the special direction finding equipment mounted atop the customized Hercules. The instrument panel needle pointed to the payload indicating the radio source was to the southwest. Additionally, this particular payload was fitted with upward-pointing spotlights that illuminated the parachute canopy.
At about six miles out the pilot saw the dimly glowing hemisphere of the parachute canopy. It appeared to be hanging motionless, slightly above them, at first. But, indeed, the payload was descending at about fifteen hundred feet per minute towards the desert below. The Hercules was at nearly 18,000 feet as it approached to within a mile or two of the glowing target. That meant the pilot had about ten minutes to effect a retrieval before they ran out of altitude.
During that time the pilot had to evaluate the behavior of the target and then close to bring the hooks into the parachute. The usual procedure was to make an initial pass some two hundred feet over the parachute to assess its trajectory and stability, for some parachutes sway wildly, others drop pretty much straight down but a few appear to dance left and right in a manner difficult to predict where it will be in a few minutes. After the first pass the pilot would enter a clover leaf pattern while attempting to match the descent rate of the parachute. He would, after one or two turns, then decide to close and swoop down to place the hooks for a catch. But on this particular night all did not go well.
Just as the Hercules got close to the parachute on the first pass, perhaps no more than a half mile away ... the lights illuminating the canopy went out. The orange glowing parachute went black and the pilot could not see it at all. Without hesitation he added power and pulled the big JC-130 up to clear the unseen hazard. He could only speculate what might have happened if they had collided in the darkness.
Carefully and by giving the darkened parachute a wide berth the pilot abandoned the area and returned to Edwards Air Force Base. It would not be until the next morning that people would drive onto the desert to retrieve the test payload and its parachute snagged onto a cactus.
Early in the decade of the 60's, other crews tried and succeeded at making several night recoveries. The word either did not get around for others elected in 1969 and 1970 to try again. It never really got beyond the experimental stage. Because the entire satellite recovery activity, both operations and research, fell under the mantle of "black", highly classified, programs, the knowledge of early test results apparently did not become known to those who followed. Perhaps mission requirements changed and decision-makers elected to try again to improve night recovery technologies.
But, recovery of our intelligence satellites remained restricted to daylight hours. Further, those recoveries had to be made in weather permitting safe flight with a high probability of pilots being able to see their targets.
Efforts to expand routine satellite recovery operations to the nighttime hours failed, but credit must still go to the highly skilled and courageous pilots who participated in those hazardous tests.
About the Author : Colonel Rowe served as Chief of Flight Test Engineering for the satellite recovery organization at Edwards AFB, California in 1969-70. He is experienced in aerospace R&D having served on several aircraft development and flight test programs, including the B-58, B-1A and E-3A. His is a Master Navigator with over 4000 flight hours, including 168 RF-4C combat missions in Viet Nam. He holds the Distinguished Flying Cross and Air Medal with eight oak leaf clusters.