Challenger: A True Story of Heroism and Disaster on the Edge of Space

The family of the astronauts arrived early that morning to watch the launch. Problems cropped up immediately: First, the shuttle hatch refused to latch properly, and then a bolt on the hatch handle became stuck in place. Removing the bolt took over two hours, delaying the launch. By 12:30 pm, it was called off.

At Launch Control Center, engineers were pessimistic about launching the following day (Tuesday), as record-cold temperatures were predicted. Nevertheless, the relaunch was scheduled for 9:38 am on Tuesday, January 28. Back at the Marshall Space Flight Center, Solid Rocket Senior Program Manager Larry Wear had a vague recollection of Thiokol engineers mentioning concerns about cold temperatures. Thiokol was contacted, and Roger Boisjoly—immersed in researching a new solution for the joint problem and therefore oblivious to the upcoming launch—responded with alarm. He and his team scrambled to pull together data that would provide a recommendation on whether or not to launch in such cold temperatures.

Meanwhile, the astronauts and their families, given the weather, were certain that the launch could not possibly take place on Tuesday. Anxiety was high, but they tried to remain patient. On the evening news, failure of the morning’s launch gave more bad press for NASA.

Around six o’clock in the evening in Utah time, Thiokol completed its presentation for NASA. Though some of the information was speculative, they ultimately warned NASA not to launch on Tuesday.

NASA readied for an 8:15 pm conference call with Thiokol management and engineers. NASA had just learned that the ships sent out into the ocean to retrieve shuttle boosters had had to turn around because of the weather conditions—another sign that conditions looked poor for a morning launch.

The meeting started on a shaky note, as the Marshall Space Flight Center in Alabama had received Thiokol’s presentation via fax, but the Cape had not. There was some scrambling on Thiokol’s end to complete and check final calculations before the meeting finally began, 45 minutes late. Boisjoly explained how the O-rings were compromised by low temperatures, which caused them to lose their elasticity and thus fail to do their job of sealing the joints to prevent fuel leaks. Despite his confidence that the O-rings could not be deemed fail-safe, Boisjoly knew that his presentation lacked the kind of hard and conclusive evidence that NASA would require. Nevertheless, Thiokol’s management ended the presentation with a recommendation not to launch. This was in keeping with its precedent: Inconclusive data was always an automatic recommendation not to launch. 

However, this time, it seemed that the NASA personnel were suggesting that inconclusive data meant that they did not have a solid enough reason not to go ahead with the launch as planned: This was the view taken by NASA’s project manager on the boosters, Larry Mulloy. Mulloy further countered that the increased delays were costly, triggering a chain reaction of delays in the entire year’s launch schedule. Thiokol asked for a recess so that they could discuss the matter privately.

When the conference resumed, the Thiokol managers had completely changed positions: Three of the four changed their positions, recommending launching in the morning. Only Vice President of Engineering Bob Lund held out until the other three urged him to comply with the majority. He reluctantly changed his vote. NASA asked Thiokol to put its recommendation in writing, something it had never done in the past. Thiokol agreed to do so, and the launch was scheduled for the following morning—less than nine hours after the call ended.

At two o’clock in the morning, the ice team arrived at the launch pad. Since faucets had been turned on in order to prevent pipes from freezing, the entire pad and everything surrounding it was covered in thick layers of ice from where the water had run and then frozen. Ice Team Director Charlie Stevenson contacted Launch Director Gene Thomas, who told him to find a way to get rid of the ice. The launch time was pushed back an hour to 10:38 am, and the fuel was loaded into the boosters.

Earlier, at five o’clock that morning, some astronaut family members woke up to travel to the launch. Others delayed: Mike Smith told his wife that he was certain the launch would be pushed back until Thursday. The astronauts were transported via NASA van to the launch pad after their breakfast, just as the sun was beginning to appear. The outdoor air temperature was 24˚ Fahrenheit. The ice team was in the process of smashing up the thick ice. 

By 9:07 am, the astronauts had climbed inside the orbiter and were in position. At the same moment, Thomas pushed the liftoff back to 11:08 am. Family and friends of the astronauts were gathered on bleachers. In New Hampshire, Christa McAuliffe’s school was gathered in its auditorium, ready to watch the launch live with much of the rest of the United States. By 10:38 am, the outdoor temperature had reached 34˚. 

Stevenson informed Thomas and astronaut Dick Scobee, positioned in the cockpit, that the shuttle was ready for liftoff. Thomas conferred with Jesse Moore, NASA’s associate administrator for space flight. Moore was at the toe of the chain and would be the final one to decide whether or not the launch would go forward. At 11:29 am, he deemed that it would. The terminal count began, with nine minutes until liftoff.

In Utah, the Thiokol engineers and administrators gathered to watch the liftoff. Roger Boisjoly remained at his desk, but a manager insisted that he join the rest of the team for the viewing. At 11:38 am, they watched as all three engines fired and the shuttle lifted off. The 25th space shuttle mission—Challenger—had cleared the tower. Boisjoly breathed a sigh of relief, telling his colleagues, “[W]e’ve just dodged a bullet” (350).

However, the cold had compromised the O-ring, making it too inflexible to close the gap in the joint. Gas at a temperature of over 5,000˚ Fahrenheit broke both the primary and secondary O-ring seals. At seven seconds into the flight, the orbiter turned onto its back over the Atlantic Ocean, as planned. Then, the most dangerous part of the launch approached, when the shuttle would face the most extreme forces. The order was given to throttle the craft, and 57 seconds after liftoff, the maneuver was successfully completed. 

One second later, fire burst through the joint of the right booster. The flame grew larger and then reached the external fuel tank. In three seconds, the fire spread across the tank, igniting the liquid hydrogen. At 72 seconds from liftoff, the tank exploded, and the shuttle became a fireball, swallowed up by plumes of smoke. Pieces of the shuttle began falling from the sky at 1,500 miles per hour. At 73 seconds, Mission Control lost contact, and the radio contained only static.

When the shuttle exploded, some of the family members of astronauts and other spectators did not instantly understand the reality of what had happened. A few held out hope that the orbiter had successfully flown away from the cloud of smoke, likely landing on one of the emergency pads. However, pieces of the shuttle were falling from the sky, 17 miles out over the ocean.

Steve Nesbitt, the official commentator, finally reported the explosion. NASA’s Mission Control immediately went into lockdown: No one was allowed to leave, phone calls were prevented, and all data were immediately collected and secured. NASA transported family members to a secure location while preparations were made to transport them home. An hour after the explosion, George Abbey officially informed them that NASA had no hope for survivors.

In the Launch Control Center, officials did little but sit in stunned silence. After an hour or so, Launch Director George Thomas viewed the replay of the explosion over and over. No one was immediately certain what had gone wrong, and the initial thought shared by many was that the Challenger had suffered some sort of engine malfunction.

President Reagan gave a brief statement to the press, though he—like NASA—had no information to provide. He decided to cancel that evening’s scheduled State of the Union address and instead make a statement about the tragedy. At 4:30 pm, NASA Assistant Administrator Jesse Moore finally addressed the press, giving NASA’s first official statement. He could offer no reason for the explosion and stressed his unwillingness to speculate. He assured them, however, that he had made the decision to launch very carefully.

At five o’clock that evening, President Reagan delivered a speech authored by Peggy Noonan. It would become one of the defining speeches of his presidency. Around the same time, Vice President George Bush delivered condolences in person to the families. That night, NASA flights transported them back to Houston.