Beyond

Horizons
A Half Century of Air Force Space Leadership

Revised Edition

David N. Spires

Senior Editor

George W. Bradley III

Associate Editors

Rick W. Sturdevant

Richard S . Eckert

Air Force Space Command

in association with

Air University Press

1998

For sale by the U .S. Government Printing Office

Superintendent of Documents, Mail Slop: SSOP, Washington, DC 20402-9328
Spires, David N.

Beyond Horizons : a half century of Air Force space leadership / David N. Spires ; Senior editor,

George W. Bradley III ; associate editors, Rick W. Sturdevant, Richard S. Eckert .

Includes bibliographical references and index .

1 Astronautics, Military-United States . 2 . Space Warfare . 3 . Space Weapons

98-125908

ISBN 1-58566-060-4

First Printing July 1998

Second Printing September 2001

Third Printing July 2002
To the men and women

who made Air Force space history

and those who recorded their achievements .
Foreword

Preface

Editor's Note

Introduction . The Dawn of the Space Age

Arnold and von Karman Form a Partnership 2

NACA and the Rocketeers Lay the Groundwork 3

Rocketeers Lead the Way 4

Wartime Provides the Momentum-Arnold and von Karman Establish

the Foundation 7

i . Before Sputnik: The Air Force Enters the Space Age, 1945-1957 13

Rand Proposes a World-Circling Spaceship 14

The Air Force Shuns Ballistic Missiles 16

Ballistic Missiles Receive New Life 21

The Air Force Studies Satellites 24

Satellites Receive New Life 27

Eisenhower Faces the Threat of Surprise Attack 29

Trevor Gardner Energizes the Missile Program 31

The Air Force Commits to the First Military Satellite 35

The Administration Commits to the First Civilian Satellite 38

The Air Force Reconsiders a "Civilian" Satellite 43

Retrenchment on the Eve of Sputnik 44

Retrospective From the Threshold of Space 47

2. From Eisenhower to Kennedy: The National Space Program

and the Air Force's Quest for the Military Space Mission,

1958-1961 50

Sputnik Creates a "National Crisis" 51

The Air Force Seizes the Initiative 53

The Government Organizes for Space 56

ARPA Takes Control 57

NASA Joins the Competition 6o

NASA Takes Shape 65

Renewing the Quest for the Military Space Mission 68

The Air Force Seeks to Consolidate Its Position 8o

vn
viii

The Air Force Rise to Military Space Preeminence 93

3. The Air Force in the Era of Apollo: A Dream Unfulfilled 96

The Air Force Position in the Spring of 1961 97

Seizing the Initiative 101

Confronting the McNamara Defense Department 112

The Air Force Plans and Programs for Space Leadership 116

Developing a "Partnership" with NASA 119

The Air Force Pursues a Dyna-Soar and a Space Station 120

Setting Course on a Manned Orbiting Laboratory 126

An End and a Beginning 133

4. From the Ground Up: The Path from Experiment to

Operations 136

Artificial Earth Satellites Become Operational 137

Ground-Based Space Surveillance Comes of Age 161

A Fleet of Space Vehicles Sets the Course 162

Space Infrastructure Provides the Support 165

Organization Provides the Focus for Space 168

Vietnam Offers the First Military Space Test 169

The Military Space Community in Transition 171

5 . Organizing for Space: The Air Force Commits to Space and

an Operational Space Command 174

A Space Community in Disarray 176

The National Debate over Detente and Arms Control 178

The Air Force Commits to a Space Shuttle 18o

The Growing Prominence of Space Systems in the Late 1970s 184

Soviet ASAT Testing Prompts Space Initiatives 188

ADCOM's Demise and the Search for Space Consensus 193

The Organizational Prelude to an Air Force Space Command 196

The Reagan Administration's Plan for Space in 1981 200

The Air Force Forms a Space Command 202

An Ending and a Point of Departure 207

6. From Star Wars to the Gulf War: The Air Force Moves to

Create an Operational Capability for Space 209

Space Command Sets an Operational Agenda 211

A United States Space Command Joins the Space Community 217

The Growing Conflict Over Space Roles and Missions 219

The Challenger Disaster Creates an Uncertain Launch Future 221
p

pp

The Blue Ribbon Panel Provides a Space Agenda 234

Air Force Space Command Gains the Space Launch Mission 238

The Decade in Retrospect 241

7. Coming of Age: Operation Desert Storm and Normalizing

Military Space Operations 243

Operation Desert Shield-Preparation 245

Operation Desert Storm-Combat 255

Lessons Learned and Normalizing Military Space 259

8. An Air Force Vision for the Military Space Mission:

A Roadmap to the 21st Century 270

A Generation of Leadership in Military Space Activities 270

An Air Force Vision for Another Generation of Space Leadership 275

Appendices 285

Notes 299

Glossary 342

Bibliography 346

Index 369
FOREWORD

n the late summer of 1992, Chief of Staff of the Air Force General Merrill A.

MCFeak asked me to chair a panel to study the role of the Air Force in space into

the 21" century. This second Blue Ribbon Panel on space, which came four years

after a similar study completed in the late i98os, had as its primary objectives to

conduct a comprehensive review of the Air Force's existing space policy, organization, and infrastructure, to define the service's future role in space, to develop a

strategy to carry out that role, and to make appropriate recommendations to the

senior leader-ship of the Air Force. The Chief believed recent political, military, and

economic developments necessitated a new look at military space operations. These

included the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War, the emergence of a "multi-polar" world, a shift in national security strategy, the implications

of Operation Desert Storm, and the worldwide proliferation of sophisticated weapons. Changing domestic priorities, declining defense budgets, and Congressional

interest in military roles and missions also contributed to the need for an evaluation

of the development, acquisition, and operation of space systems. Our panel, which

consisted of some thirty Air Force officers and civilians, met at Maxwell Air Force

Base from early September to early November 1992 . Early the following year the

Chief approved and released a report of our findings and recommendations.

Among our recommendations was one that called for making "integrated

aerospace employment a fundamental principle. . . in all training and education
aviation community, and conversely, introducing space personnel to the principles

and requirements of more traditional air warfare. This book represents a major step

toward fulfilling the first of these two goals.

In the aftermath of the panel's report I asked Dr. Richard Hallion, the Air Force

Historian, to add a history of the Air Force in space to his program's book-writing

plans Subsequent discussions of the project led to a decision to produce the study

through a contract let byAir Force Space Command's Directorate of History . Since

contracting out such studies was a familiar practice in the Air Force History Program, it promised to give us an academic-quality book in a reasonable amount of

time. Mr. George W. "Skip" Bradley, Director of History at Air Force Space Command, led the team which ultimately selected Dr. Dave Spires to write the study.

Beyond Horizons is by no means the first attempt to tell the story of the Air Force

in space, although it may be first to present that story to a wide audience, both

within the service and in the general public. Official organizational histories and

monographs prepared by the civilian and blue-suit historians of the Air Force

History Program have recorded and documented the evolution of the service's space

programs since their earliest days in the post-World War 11 era. Classification issues

and the nature of the history program itself, however, limited readers of these works

primarily to those already well aware of the Air Force space story or to the actual

participants in these efforts . Perhaps of greater importance, the way the Air Force

organized and managed its space effort created an environment somewhat detached

and insulated from the mainstream flying Air Force. As a result, knowledge of this

vital part of the service's history and heritage remained closeted and to a certain

extent inaccessible to both service members and scholars ofAir Force history. It was

my intention in requesting the preparation of this study to open up the story of the

Air Force in space to a much wider audience and by doing so to generate a level of

interest in the subject area that would result in additional, more focused monographs and papers .

The publication of Beyond Horizons comes at a significant point in the history of

the Air Force, one with implications well beyond the coincident recognition of the

service's 5o" anniversary. Recently the service announced its vision for the Air Force

of the 21" century. Central to this vision, the leadership of today's Air Force agrees,

is a transition from an air force to an air and space force on an evolutionary path to

a space and air force . Clearly, as the service moves in this direction over the coming

years, awareness of the roots of the Air Force's space heritage must increase and

broaden. For service members, the transition necessitates a greater appreciation of

this part of our history to foster an understanding of the changes currently taking

place or emerging on the horizon . Scholars of Air Force history and others in the

xu
omitted from mainstream Air Force history.

Beyond Horizons promises to open the door somewhat wider to a story that to

date has, for various reasons, not received the attention it deserves and requires .

Unquestionably, the growing availability of official records from the earlier years of

the Air Force space program will allow researchers to fill in details missing from this

study and offer new interpretations of some issues and events . As the Air Force

moves into its second half century, this added knowledge, together with what we

already know from the work of Dave Spires and others, can only help us understand

better the foundation upon which the Air Force of the ai" century is emerging .

7Z,. 07. 2 , .w"+?s~

THOMAS S. MOORMAN, JR.

General, USAF

Vice Chief of Staff of the Air Force
PREFACE

yond Horizons: A Half Century ofAir Force Space Leadership is a study of the

United States Air Force in space. Of all the military services, the Air Force has

been preeminently involved for the past fifty years in initiating, developing,

and applying the technology of space-based systems in support ofthe nation's

national security. Yet there has been no single-volume overview of the Air Force

space story to serve as an introduction and guide for interested readers. In November 1992, a high-level Air Force Blue Ribbon Panel on Space, chaired by then

Lieutenant General Thomas S. Moorman, Jr., commander of Air Force Space

Command, concluded there was a specific need to better educate people, both in

the service and among the general populace, about the history of Air Force space

activities . Beyond Horizons has been written to meet this need.

Beyond Horizons begins with a review of pre-World War 11 rocketry developments and the forging of the important partnership between the ArmyAir Forces'

Brigadier General Henry H . "Hap" Arnold and noted Cal Tech aerodynamicist

Theodore von Kdrmdn. Wartime provided important momentum in establishing

the foundation for later Air Force space efforts . At Arnold's initiative, von Kdrmdn,

late in the war, formed what became the United States Air Force Scientific Advisory

Board and produced Where We Stand. This seminal study provided the Air Force a

research and development agenda for the future. Equally important, the Air Forcesponsored Rand Corporation, in early 1946, issued a report on the feasibility of

artificial satellites that would lead to the important Project Feedback reports of the
Chapter i focuses on space and missile efforts prior to the launch of the Soviet

Sputnik satellites in late 1957. Beginning with analysis of the Rand satellite report,

the chapter examines the policy, organizational, and funding constraints, based

largely on inter- and intea-service rivalries, that Air Force missile and space advocates had to overcome during the late 1940s and early 1950s in order to establish an

effective enterprise . In a sense, the Air Force entered the space age on the coattails

of intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) development and President Dwight D.

Eisenhower's determination to protect the nation from surprise attack . Operational

ballistic missiles could also serve as satellite boosters, while a reconnaissance satellite

could provide strategic intelligence on Soviet capabilities . Along with the other

services, the Air Force pursued missile and satellite development by establishing

the Western Development Division and giving its commander, Brigadier General

Bernard A. Schriever, wideranging responsibilities to produce an operational ICBM

and a military reconnaissance satellite. Eventually, these efforts would lead to the

Lockheed Agena booster-satellite, the infrared missile warning satellite, and the

reconnaissance satellites of the National Reconnaissance Office .

Chapter a focuses on the important policy and organizational steps taken after

Sputnik which helped the Air Force achieve leadership of the nation's military space

activities . Initial Air Force hopes ofleading a national space program ended with the

establishment of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) . At the

same time, NASA's absorption ofArmy and Navy space assets left the Air Force preeminent in military space and the new civilian agency dependent on the service for

the immediate future. During the second Eisenhower administration, the Air Force

initiated the first of several unsuccessful "campaigns" to receive formal recognition

as executive agent for all military space efforts with approval to lead an expanded

space program. Forced to share space responsibilities with the other services and

agencies, Air Force leaders also chafed under an Eisenhower space policy that downplayed military space activities and prohibited deployment of weapons in space.

Chapter 3 describes Air Force efforts to achieve a dominant role in space through

its support of NASA and its attempts to acquire a military manned spaceflight

mission and approval for development of space-based weapons. Expectations were

high at the outset of the Kennedy administration when Defense Secretary Robert

McNamara designated the Air Force the military service responsible for space research and development, and the service established Air Force Systems Command

to lead the way. Yet, by the end of the i96os, NASA basked in the glow of its lunar

landing, while cancellation of the Air Force's Manned Orbiting Laboratory ended

hopes for a military manned space mission. Moreover, earlier it had become clear

that space policy would continue to restrict space-based weapons to the study

phase. Despite the seemingly bleak outlook for an Air Force space future by the

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Chapter 4 examines the Air Force's leadership role in the emergence of artificial

earth satellites during the i96os for communications, navigation, meteorology, and

surveillance and reconnaissance . These mission functions had been identified in the

late 1950s and would remain the bedrock of space activities for the remainder of the

century. Booster and infrastructure support paralleled the rise of unmanned

satellites . The Air Force developed more powerful launch vehicles and established

worldwide networks for ground-based control of satellites, space surveillance, and

missile warning . By the end of the decade, unmanned military spacecraft had

demonstrated important operational applications including, during the Vietnam

conflict, the first use of satellites to support military requirements in wartime .

Chapter 5 discusses the complex interplay of space policy, organizational, and

operational issues that culminated in the formation of the Air Force's Space Command. The maturing of unmanned satellites and the advent of the Space Shuttle

compelled the service to confront and reassess its fragmented organization for space

and the heretofore dominant role of the space research and development community. With the increasing importance of space for operational commanders, the

central questions became whether the research and development commands should

continue to launch spacecraft and provide on-orbit control, and whether the service

should create an operational command for its space activities . The debate led to the

establishment of a major command for space operations in September 1982 .

Chapter 6 describes the efforts of Air Force Space Command in the 198os to consolidate its control over space systems and move the Air force from an "operational

agenda" for space to the creation of an "operational mindset" for space. Along the

way the command had to achieve an effective working relationship with a new

unified United States Space Command and deal with the space launch crisis resulting from the Challenger disaster. By the end of the decade Air Force leaders increasingly referred to the "operationalization" of space in making space systems critical

to the warfighter.

Chapter 7 focuses on the role of space in the Persian GulfWar in early 1991 . This

conflict represented the coming of age of military space by demonstrating the value

of an "operational mindset" for space. During Desert Storm, space systems that

traditionally had supported strategic requirements proved sufficiently flexible to

provide essential tactical support to the warfighter.

The final chapter serves as both a summary of the Air force space story and a

point of departure for assessing Air Force space prospects for the new century. The

Gulf War provided the momentum for the Air Force to take advantage of the further technological growth and refinement of military space systems and the emerging trends toward greater military use of civil and commercial space capabilities in

order to better institutionalize space within the Air Force. The study concludes with
United States prepared to enter the 21st century.

In preparing this study I received help from many quarters . Above all, I wish to

thank the historians at Air Force Space Command-Director of History Mr. George

W. "Skip" Bradley, and Dr. Rick W. Sturdevant and Dr. Rick Eckert. All three read

the entire manuscript and provided wise counsel and unstinting encouragement.

Skip Bradley directed the project with a firm hand and provided full access to the

wealth of information in the command's historical archives . Rick Sturdevant

tracked down many documents and labored mightily to have classified material

downgraded and made available for my use. The knowledge he shared through

many hours of discussion contributed substantially to my understanding ofkey

policy and technical issues Of special note, early in the project we elected to defer

more complete coverage of the Air Force-National Reconnaissance Office relationship until a larger portion of the historical record is accessible . Rick Eckert offered

important suggestions from his perspective as the primary author of the space

chapters in the command's periodic histories . He also performed the final editing of

the manuscript as well as completed the design and page layout in preparation for

printing . I also wish to acknowledge the outstanding administrative support

provided by Ms. Karen Martin of the command's Office of History.

I am especially indebted to three historians who agreed to read and comment on

the initial draft for accuracy and clarity . Mr. R. Cargill Hall, the person responsible

for contract histories at the Center for Air Force History, offered many insights

based on his extensive knowledge and long experience in the civilian and military

space communities. NASA historian Dr. Roger Launius provided valuable suggestions on the portions of the study dealing with early rocket developments and issues

affecting NASA. I also greatly benefited from the comments of Dr. Donald R.

Baucom, Ballistic Missile Defense Organization historian, whose understanding of

missile defense and the Strategic Defense Initiative is second to none. They, of

course, are not responsible for my interpretation of the Air Force space story.

Individuals at two major military archives also deserve special thanks. Dr.

Timothy C . Hanley and Dr. Harry N. Waldron, III of the Space and Missile Systems

Center at Los Angeles Air Force Base, California, generously allowed me extensive

use of their important document collection that begins with records of the Western

Development Division in the early 1950s . Colonel Richard S. Rauschkolb, commander of the Air Force Historical Research Agency at Maxwell Air Force Base,

Alabama, also went beyond the call of duty to support my research efforts . As a

result, I benefited from the knowledge and helpfulness of the agency's outstanding

group of archivists and historians . I also wish to acknowledge Dr. Thomas Fuller,

United States Space Command historian who furnished useful documents on

xvii
United States prepared to enter the 21st century.

In preparing this study 1 received help from many quarters. Above all, I wish to

thank the historians at Air Force Space Command-Director of History Mr. George

W. "Skip" Bradley, and Dr. Rick W. Sturdevant and Dr. Rick Eckert. All three read

the entire manuscript and provided wise counsel and unstinting encouragement.

Skip Bradley directed the project with a firm hand and provided full access to the

wealth of information in the command's historical archives . Rick Sturdevant

tracked down many documents and labored mightily to have classified material

downgraded and made available for my use. The knowledge he shared through

many hours of discussion contributed substantially to my understanding of key

policy and technical issues . Of special note, early in the project we elected to defer

more complete coverage of the Air Force-National Reconnaissance Office relationship until a larger portion of the historical record is accessible . Rick Eckert offered

important suggestions from his perspective as the primary author of the space

chapters in the command's periodic histories . He also performed the final editing of

the manuscript as well as completed the design and page layout in preparation for

printing. l also wish to acknowledge the outstanding administrative support

provided by Ms. Karen Martin of the command's Office of History.

I am especially indebted to three historians who agreed to read and comment on

the initial draft for accuracy and clarity. Mr. R. Cargill Hall, the person responsible

for contract histories at the Center for Air Force History, offered many insights

based on his extensive knowledge and long experience in the civilian and military

space communities. NASA historian Dr. Roger Launius provided valuable suggestions on the portions of the study dealing with early rocket developments and issues

affecting NASA. I also greatly benefited from the comments of Dr. Donald R.

Baucom, Ballistic Missile Defense Organization historian, whose understanding of

missile defense and the Strategic Defense Initiative is second to none. They, of

course, are not responsible for my interpretation of the Air Force space story.

Individuals at two major military archives also deserve special thanks. Dr.

Timothy C. Hanley and Dr. Harry N. Waldron, III of the Space and Missile Systems

Center at Los Angeles Air Force Base, California, generously allowed me extensive

use of their important document collection that begins with records of the Western

Development Division in the early 1950s . Colonel Richard S. Rauschkolb, commander of the Air Force Historical Research Agency at Maxwell Air Force Base,

Alabama, also went beyond the call of duty to support my research efforts . As a

result, I benefited from the knowledge and helpfulness of the agency's outstanding

group of archivists and historians . I also wish to acknowledge Dr. Thomas Fuller,

United States Space Command historian who furnished useful documents on

xvu
History Office archivist, who provided sound advice and access to his substantial

holdings on Air Force-NASA issues .

Special thanks are owed to two individuals central to the Air Force story. General

Bernard A. Schriever, the "father" of the Air Force space program, gave me the

benefit of his views on the early years, and former Air Force Secretary and Director

of the National Reconnaissance Office John L. McLucas helped broaden my understanding of space programs and issues during the ig6os and 1970s .

Finally, it should be recognized that a book of this nature could not have been

completed without the benefit of the work done by the Air Force space pioneers and

the historians who documented and recorded the Air Force story. We who are their

heirs are forever in their debt.

David N . Spires

Spring 1997
EDITOR'S NOTE

n early January 1992, Lieutenant General Thomas S. Moorman, vice commander of Air Force Space Command, called me to his office to discuss a

project he had in mind. Specifically, he asked me to look into the possibility of

having the Office of Air Force History prepare a history of the Air Force's role in

space since its beginnings shortly after World War 11 . In March 1993, General

Moorman and I met with Dr. Richard Hallion, Chief of Air Force History, in his

office at Bolling AFB, Washington, D.C . General Moorman outlined the project to

Dr. Hallion and several of his staff members. What General Moorman proposed

was not only visionary but also hard to do. He wanted a comprehensive academicquality book that would, for the first time, put into an unclassified text a survey

history of the entire range of activities conducted by the Air Force in space. Not

only did he request a high quality study but he wanted it written in less than three

years and published as soon after completion as possible. After discussing several

ways of producing the book in-house at the Office ofAir Force history, Dr. Hallion

suggested contracting-out the writing of the history to a qualified historian and

author. Although the Office ofAir Force History had a dedicated historian who

managed contract histories, Mr. R. Cargill Hall, Dr. Hallion had a different managerial scheme in mind for this project . He proposed that the Air Force Space Command History Office, of which I was Chief, manage the contract to ensure timeliness

and quality as well as ensure that the author selected had access to all the materials

Ax
would be of considerable benefit since much of the documentation and corporate

memory on the subject resided at the headquarters . Moreover, I felt that by keeping

the book's management in Colorado Springs, I could ensure that the study would

remain faithful to the goals and expectations of the leadership ofthe command who

had generously agreed to fund the project.

1 would like to make the first of many acknowledgments at this point. This project simply would not be as it is without the guiding hand of General Moorman

He not only conceived the idea for the book and set its initial direction, but he also

spent many hours with me explaining the history of the Air Force in space. General

Moorman, an historian himself, if he had the time, could certainly have authored

this study. As it was, he patiently worked with me to develop a project outline that

eventually become the basis for the content portion of the contract's statement of

work. I owe a great debt of gratitude to General Moorman who not only gave me his

vision of the Air Force's role in space but inspired me to tackle this project with

enthusiasm and excitement .

We began the process of contracting with an author (or authors) in May 1993 and

submitted a Request for Proposals (RFP) in September of that year. After releasing

the RFPs we received a number of excellent proposals . 1'd like to make another

acknowledgment here. The contracting process is much more complicated than I

ever imagined, and I developed a great deal of admiration and respect for the

dedicated contracting officials at Peterson AFB's 21st Space Wing who provided the

expertise to complete the contract . Unfortunately, the contracting officials had little

or no experience in contracting for the writing of an academic quality history book,

and we learned together the fine nuances of this unique process. What amazed me

was that despite the fact that this project involved a relatively small amount of

money compared to what contracting officials normally managed, they treated my

small workload with as much concern and dedication as any of the other large scale

and multi-million dollar tasks they normally completed . I am indebted to the 21st

Contracting Squadron for the outstanding support they gave the project from the

first day of work to the very final day of contract completion . In particular, I am

especially indebted to two contracting officials, Ms. Geraldine Humphrey and Ms.

Donna Tiernan . Their professional expertise, willingness to understand the requirements and standards I insisted on, and patience were critical to the success of this

endeavor. "Gerry" Humphrey worked with me from the beginning to the end of the

project, and I am grateful for her constant support and interest.

Selecting a contractor was no easy task as both Ms. Humphrey and Ms. Tiernan

warned me. The selection team that assisted me was invaluable. Mr. R. Cargill Hall

of the Office of Air Force History and Dr. Rick Sturdevant of the Air Force Space

Command History Office spent many hours reviewing and evaluating proposals .
Dr. Sturdevant's knowledge of space history and his wide-ranging publication

record ensured that I had an expert's breadth of knowledge in selecting the correct

contractor. After many months of work, the contract was finally awarded in

December 1993 to Dr. David N. Spires who teaches history at the University of

Colorado in Boulder. Dr. Spires was uniquely qualified . As an Air Force officer he

taught history at the Air Force Academy, and he has also authored a number of

books on Air Force history as a contract author for the Office of Air Force History.

He not only proved to be an able writer, but has demonstrated a real personal

interest in the successful completion of this project.

Both the Foreword and Preface have given amplification to the nature of this

study. I would like to add that this work was completed on schedule and as budgeted. This was accomplished in no small measure because of the dedication of a

number of people, many of whom I have already named. I would like to acknowledge several others who may not have been mentioned previously. Lieutenant

Colonel William Semmler, an Individual Mobilization Augmentee assigned to Air

Force Space Command's Directorate of History, helped select photos, edited copy,

and produced the glossary and index. His several readings of the narrative assisted

us in eliminating a number of errors and inconsistencies . 2nd Lieutenant Denise

Bostick, a reservist working in the Directorate of History for a time, took great pains

to find and reproduce a number of photos which appear in this book and assisted in

a number of administrative tasks in support of its completion. Colonel Billy G.

Meazell, Inspector General at Air Force Space Command, generously contributed

his time and talent to create the dust jacket art . Despite an extremely busy schedule,

he donated his spare time to create an artistic representation of the history of the

Air Force in space. Ms. Freda Norris and Ms. Karen Martin, Editorial Assistants in

the Directorate of History, accomplished numerous administrative tasks not only in

the production of the book but also in the contracting process as well as the contract management aspect of this task . Freda and Karen made a much more significant contribution than their normal modesty allows them to admit. Dr. Spires has

already mentioned the contributions of our three outside reviewers, Mr. R. Cargill

Hall of the Office of Air Force History; Dr. Roger Launius, Chief of the NASA

History Office, and Dr. Donald R Baucom, historian for the Ballistic Missile

Defense Organization . I would like to add my personal appreciation to them. They

spent many hours advising me on the management of this project as well as giving

Dr. Spires the benefit of their vast professional expertise in space history. I am

indebted to them for their willingness to spend both their professional time and,

in many cases, their personal time, to review and comment on the manuscript .

At this point, I need to acknowledge two people who have labored unceasingly

to help complete this study: Dr. Rick Sturdevant and Dr. Rick Eckert. Both Dr.
of that office in spring 1992 . They are both longtime Air Force historians and have

worked in Air Force Space Command for many years . Their knowledge of space

history and the command has proved invaluable at every step of the way. Dr. Spires

has graciously acknowledged their contributions, but I need to thank them even

more. They not only spent much professional time providing research material to

Dr. Spires, guiding him to other sources, and reviewing and editing the book, but

have counseled me numerous times in every phase of the management of this

project . They have performed jobs too numerous to name, but I would like to

acknowledge specifically their contributions as Associate Editors. As Senior Editor,

I chose to adopt a seminaring method for reviewing each chapter. Dr. Spires agreed,

and it was during these seminars, held each time Dr. Spires completed a draft

chapter, that they made especially significant contributions to this projects . Their

insights and comments were not only useful to Dr. Spires as he completed final

chapter drafts but served to provide an historical framework that helped mold the

context and subtext of the project. Dr. Sturdevant was especially critical in ensuring

that many classified documents were downgraded for Dr. Spires' use. He is one of

the most dedicated professionals serving in the Air Force History Program, and one

can not praise his contributions enough. Dr. Eckert has been unquestionably the

driving force in completing this study. He has probably read the manuscript more

than any of us as an editor. It is due to his personal dedication that I have been freed

from the mundane task of copy-editing . Fortunately for the project, his knowledge

of space history also allowed him to make stylistic and content changes of great

value to the author. Moreover, Dr. Eckert's expertise in word processing proved

invaluable as he developed the layout and completed the page proofs as well as the

electronic final "disk" copy of the book. He worked diligently to ensure that all aspects of the printing process were completed with the highest standards . His work

with the Defense Printing Service was critical to the timely production of this

volume . This book would not have been possible without the dedicated services

of my two colleagues, Dr. Sturdevant and Dr. Eckert, and I thank them for their

dedication, professionalism, and advice that was given freely throughout this long

four-year process.

I also need thank the headquarters staff who supported the Directorate of

History's efforts to produce this study. A special thanks goes to the Director of Field

Support, Colonel Robert Koenig, who as Chairman of the command's 5oth Anniversary Committee, ensured that funds were available to print this book. So many

staff members at the headquarters provided support toward the completion of this

study that it is impossible to name them all. I would, however, like to especially

thank those staff members who read the manuscript as part of the security and

policy review process overseen by the command's Directorate of Public Affairs .
at Air Force Space Command has provided unfailing support both in terms of

funding and managerial guidance. I would especially like to thank the two Vice

Commanders who supported this project in every phase of its accomplishment:

Lieutenant General Thomas S. Moorman, Jr. and Lieutenant General Patrick P.

Caruana. They provided leadership to ensure the project was appropriately supported, and their personal interest inspired all those participating in the effort. I

would also like to thank the commanders of Air Force Space Command, each of

whom in turn never wavered in their support and interest for this study: General

Charles A. Horner, General Joseph W. Ashy, and General Howell M. Estes III . Their

comments and advice each time I briefed the project to them were always positive

and frequently insightful .

Finally, while Air Force Space Command has provided funding and support for

the completion of this study, the command has exercised only security and policy

review ofthe manuscript . The content and conclusions are solely those of the

author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Directorate of History, Air

Force Space Command, or the United States Air Force.

George W. Bradley

Director of History

Air Force Space Command
INTRODUCTION

The Dawn of the Space Age

In making the decision as to whether or not to undertake

construction of such a [spacelcraft now [19461, it is not

inappropriate to view our present situation as similar to

that in airplanes prior to the flight of the Wright brothers .

We can see no more clearly all the utility and implications

of spaceships than the Wright brothers could see fleets of

B-29s bombing Japan and air transports circling the globe.'

n 1946, the authors of the first Air Force-sponsored Project Rand (Research

and Development) study on the feasibility of artificial earth satellites aptly

characterized the challenge and uncertainty surrounding the country's initial

foray into the space age. Postwar skeptics dismissed proposed satellite and missile

projects as excessively costly, technologically unsound, militarily unnecessary, or

simply too "fantastic," while space advocates themselves remained hard pressed to

convince opponents and stifle their own self-doubts. Space represented a "new

ocean," a vast uncharted sea yet to be explored. The dawn of the space age

brought many questions but offered few answers . Could satellites be successfully

produced, launched, and orbited? If technically feasible, what military-or

civilian scientific-functions should they perform? Howshould space functions

be organized? What space policy would best integrate space into the national

security agenda? What should be the Air Force role in space?
conceptual phase of the nation's space program . Only by the mid-195os, a full

decade after the 1946 Rand study, could observers identify two sides of a national

space policy that would characterize the American space program from the

Eisenhower presidency to the present day. One side comprised a civilian satellite

effort, termed Project Vanguard, designed to launch a scientific satellite by the end

of 1958 as part of the International Geophysical Year . 'File other, an Air Force-led

military initiative, sought to place into earth orbit a strategic reconnaissance satellite

capable of providing vital intelligence about Soviet offensive forces .

The Air Force played a central role during the formative era before Sputnik and

afterward when the nation's leaders established space policy and organized to confront the Sputnik challenge . The National Space Act of 1958 created the civilian

agency, the National Air and Space Administration (NASA), to operate the civilian

space effort, while the Air Force and other military services and agencies jockeyed for

position within the Defense Department and the overall national space program.

Although the Air Force won the contest for military "supremacy" among the services, it seemed to many Air Force leaders that the policy of promoting the "peaceful uses of space" meant a diminished role for Air Force space interests and a threat

to the nation's security . Nevertheless, by the end of the Eisenhower administration,

the Air Force space program revealed the basic defense support mission characteristics it would retain for the remainder of the century.

Arnold and von Karman Form a Partnership

The Air Force space saga began with the partnership of General Henry H. "Hap"

Arnold, Commanding General of the ArrnyAir Forces (AAF), and the brilliant

scientist, Dr. Theodore von Karman, Director of the Guggenheim Aeronautical

Laboratory at the California Institute of Technology (GAFCIT) . Together they

provided the emerging Air Force with a strong research and development focus

and championed Air Force interests in the new missile and satellite fields . Their

legacy would endure.

Hap Arnold and Dr. von Karman first met in 1935, when Arnold visited his friend,

Dr. Robert Millikan, head of the California Institute of Technology (Cal Tech) in

Pasadena, California, while serving as commander of the First Wing, General

Headquarters Air Force, at neighboring March Field. The two men could hardly

have appeared more different Arnold radiated physical energy and heartiness from

his large frame, while the short, slender intellectual Hungarian elnigre exuded a

quieter, less forceful presence . Yet the two men took to each other immediately. The

Air Corps brigadier general's long-standing interest in aviation technology and

association with the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA) helped

spark an immediate personal and professional friendship . Back in the First World
Karman later recalled that while Arnold had no significant technical background

or training, he possessed an appreciation for what science could contribute to

aviation and the "vision" to persevere against long odds.

After their first meeting, Arnold often visited Cal Tech to observe wind tunnel

experiments and discuss with von Karman various aeronautical and, especially,

rocket propulsion initiatives Cal Tech had just undertaken. Von Karman, who had

established his reputation in structures and fluid dynamics as well as aerodynamics,

showed the foresight to support a research project first proposed in 1936 by his

bright graduate student, Frank Malina. Malina and his four-man team, known as

the "suicide squad," had formed the GALCIT Rocket Research Group to develop

both high-altitude sounding rockets and rocket-powered airplanes along the lines

described by Austrian theorist, Dr. Eugen Saenger. With Cal Tech's move into

rocketry, von Karman's research placed him squarely at the center of the two areas

of propulsion that would take the Air Force to "the fringes of space." One was the

aerodynamic approach, represented by the NACA, which involved jet-propelled

airbreathing "cruise" missiles ; the other, astronautical approach, encompassed

rocket-powered "ballistic" missiles .'

NACA and the Rocketeers Lay the Groundwork

Since its founding in 1915, the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics had

served as the major government agency performing experiments in basic aviation

technology and advanced flight research . During the 1920s and 193os its research

engineers worked closely with the Army, Navy, the Bureau ofStandards, and the

infant aircraft industry to improve aircraft design andperformance. Relying primarily

on wind tunnels at its Langley research laboratory in Virginia, its research led to use

of retractable landing gear, engine cowlings, laminar flow airfoils, and low-winged

all-metal monoplanes . It developed an outstanding reputation for its work in aerodynamics and with aerodynamic loads. Chartered to benefit both civil and military

aviation, the NACA generally performed the research and left to the military services

and industry the practical development of aircraft design and production. During

the 1930s, the country's focus on Depression issues and budget retrenchment convinced the NACA to remain a small agency with interests primarily in aerodynamics.

On the eve of World War II, Chairman Vannevar Bush's organization employed

only 523 people and operated one research laboratory at Langley Field.'

Wartime, however, brought major expansion in the number of personnel,

broader responsibilities in the area of structural materials and powerplants, and the

addition of two new laboratories, one adjacent to Cleveland's municipal airport,

and the other next door to the naval air station at Moffett Field forty miles southwest of San Francisco. During the war the NACA served as the "silent partner of US
Committee on Jet Propulsion, and followed in 1944 with a Special Committee on

Self-Propelled Guided Missiles . Although the NACA intended to work diligently

with the Navy and Army Air Forces on these threats, the need to provide "quick

fixes" throughout the conflict meant that basic research became secondary. At war's

end the NACA proved eager to learn from the war by continuing its cooperative

research efforts with the military. In an agreement signed between the NACA and the

services in 1946, the parties agreed that "the effects of accelerated enemy research

and development in preparation for war helped to create an opportunity for aggression which was promptly exploited. This lesson is the most expensive we ever had to

learn. We must make certain that we do not forget it ."'

The NACA's postwar vision embraced support ofAmerican supersonic flight

probes by means of small solid-propellant sounding rockets, and the "X" series of

high-altitude, rocket-propelled research aircraft. The first rocket-powered aircraft,

Bell Laboratory's X-1, broke the sound barrier on 14 October 1947 with Captain

Charles "Chuck" Yaeger at the controls. His historic flight became the first of many

increasingly higher and faster experimental aircraft flights toward the fringes of

space. The last, the single-place X-zoA Dyna-Soar (named for dynamic soaring),

would be the Air Force's best hope to launch a manned boost-glide rocket aircraft

to the border of space. Although it did not become operational after initial development in the late 1950s, the Dyna-Soar served as a precursor of the Space Shuttle of

the 198os. Although the NACA expressed interest in rocket propulsion, its focus remained centered on aerodynamic experiments and manned flight within the earth's

atmosphere . Space research seemed wholly outside its experience and interests . 7

Rocketeers Lead the Way

Spaceflight represented a challenge far more daunting than traditional aviation.

Although future Air Force leaders would lay claim to spaceflight as a logical extension ofAir Force operations in the atmosphere, aviation technology offered only

limited solutions on the road to outer space. Although the technical advances that

led from reciprocating to jet turbine engines powered aircraft higher into the upper

atmosphere, the oxygen-dependent airplane remained confined to the atmosphere.

Rockets, on the other hand, operate independent ofthe atmosphere by relying on

their own internal propellants: fuel and oxidizer. In their flight through increasingly

thinner atmosphere on the way to airless space, rockets become progressively more

efficient . Although the post-World War II American rocket research airplanes could

provide useful information on the guidance and control challenges facing vehicles

in the upper atmosphere, their small rockets could never break the bonds ofgravity,

and they remained primarily aerodynamic vehicles . To operate either manned

spacecraft or instrumented satellites in outer space, rockets needed sufficient thrust
g

The challenge of manned spaceflight had captivated the imaginations of dreamers for centuries. Yet their ideas remained only idle musings until technological

progress in the late 19th century led serious enthusiasts to consider liquid-propellant rockets as "boosters" of spacecraft . Among the pioneers of liquid-propellant

rocket research linked to visions of manned spaceflight, three men-Russian

Konstantin Tsiolkovsky, German-Romanian Hermann Oberth, and American

Robert Goddard-paved the way for the successful military and civilian space

programs of the second half of the 20th century. While their research initially led

to production of bombardment rockets for use by their respective military forces

in the Second World War, they all remained committed to visions of spaceflightv

The earliest of the space triumvirate, mathematics teacher Konstantin

Eduardovich Tsiolkovsky, in 1895 published the first technical essays on artificial

earth satellites . By the end of the century, he had worked out the theory of a liquidfueled rocket dependent on kerosene to achieve sufficient exhaust velocity. For the

next 20 years he immersed himself in theoretical studies but remained largely unknown to the world outside Russia. Yet, by the time of his death in 1935, his pioneering work had helped the Soviets establish a strong prewar rocket and jet-powered

aircraft development program which led to the space program ofthe postwar era.

Although Hermann Oberth also taught mathematics and produced important

theoretical studies on spaceflight, he assumed the role of publicist for rocketry and

space exploration to enthusiastic European audiences after World War I . In 1923 he

established his reputation in the new field of astronautics with the seminal publication, "The Rocket into Interplanetary Space," in which he described the technical

requirements for propelling satellites into earth orbit. In 1927 he helped found the

German Society for Space Flight, which became the most influential ofthe numerous rocket societies in Europe. By 1931, Oberth's work with the Society came to the

attention of the German Army, which saw in sponsorship of the young rocket

scientists a means of obtaining bombardment rockets for an army sorely constrained by the Versailles Treaty. Among the Society members who joined the Army

project in 1932 was a 2o-year old engineer named Wernher von Braun. After 1933,

the Nazi regime expanded the Wehrmacht program and in 1937 began developing

the Peenemuende experimental site on the Baltic coast under supervision of

Captain Walter Dornberger. Although von Braun and his colleagues had now to

focus on long-range rockets to help fuel Germany's military expansion, they continued to dream of manned spaceflight . During the Second World War, while the

Luftwaffe produced the V-1 aerodynamic pulse-jet "cruise" missile, the Wehrmacht's

Peenemunde rocketeers developed the far more impressive "big rocket," the V-2.

Known as the A-4 to the rocket specialists, the V-2 measured 46 feet in length,

weighed 34,000 pounds, and approached a range of 200 miles under 69,1oo pounds
gg p

war Americans discovered that German plans had called for an intercontinental

ballistic missile to strike New York by 1946. To the German rocketeers, however,

the A-4 always represented the first rung on the ladder to space. After the war, the

American Army's Operation Paperclip brought Dornberger, von Braun, and a host

of other German rocket experts to the United States, where they joined the Army's

rocket program-with their visions of spaceflight still alive ."'

The German rocket specialists freely acknowledged their debt to American

rocket pioneer, Robert H. Goddard . Unlike his Russian and German contemporaries, Goddard immediately moved beyond theoretical studies to practical experimentation . He always found applied research more exciting than theoretical studies .

From his post as a physics professor at Clark University, Goddard began experimenting with powder rockets, and in 1914 received a patent for his liquid-propellant

rocket engine. In 1920 the Smithsonian released his highly technical paper, "A

Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes," which described various rocket-propelled

experiments that could be conducted as high as 50 miles in altitude . His paper also

included a theoretical argument for rocketing a payload of flash powder to the

moon, which drew public censure after a New York Times reporter ridiculed the idea

in print. The experience left Goddard badly scarred and more than ever inclined to

focus on private research . By 1926 he had built and tested the first liquid-propellant

rocket, and in 1935 successfully launched a gyroscopic-stabilized rocket to an altitude of 7000 feet . Eventually, the prolific experimenter amassed an amazing 214

patents for his designs and devices. But Goddard preferred working alone and

jealously guarded his work from other space enthusiasts like the intrepid members

of the fledgling American Rocket Society.

In the 193os Goddard moved his increasingly complex liquid propellant experiments from Massachusetts to the New Mexico desert, where he worked with his

wife and various assistants supported by grants from the Guggenheim Foundation.

Guggenheim officials quite naturally sought to bring Goddard and von Kdrmdn's

Cal Tech Rocket Research Project team together. Characteristically, Goddard proved

reluctant, and von Karman refused to collaborate without full disclosure of

Goddard's research results ."

Despite the acknowledged importance ofGoddard's work for future rocket

development, active collaboration between von Kdrman and Goddard might well

have placed the postwar American rocket program on better technical footing and

created more incentive for the Air Force to promote research in ballistic rather than

aerodynamic missiles after the war. Cooperation between the two camps would

certainly have helped the neophyte rocket group at Cal Tech, which had developed

convincing theories about rocket flight but had no experimental data to work with.

Moreover, as Malina recalled, in the 1930s most scientists generally considered
rocketeers, who proceeded largely independently of Goddard."

Wartime Provides the Momentum-Arnold and von Karman

Establish the Foundation

Meanwhile, von Karman and his Cal Tech rocket team continued their research into

high-altitude sounding rockets and jet-assisted takeoff (JA'CO) devices by examining

potential fuel types, rocket nozzle shapes, reaction principles, and thrust measurements. They managed to keep their experiments afloat with very little money until

General Arnold came to the rescue in 1938 . Late that year, Arnold, now chief of the

Army Air Corps, helped convince the National Academy of Sciences to provide

initial funding for the Cal Tech project. Shortly thereafter, in January 1939, the Air

Corps assumed direction of the program, and in June awarded the researchers a

$io,ooo contract . Von Karman explained that the program's label, "Air Corps Jet

Propulsion Research, GALCIT #1," included the word "jet" rather than "rocket"

because of wide-spread skepticism among his colleagues . As one of them told him,

he was welcome to the "Buck Rogers" job."

Malina wisely committed his team to explore both liquid- and solid-propellant

rocket engine research . The team made rapid progress once they developed the first

relatively long-duration, controlled-explosion solid-propellant engine . In August

1941, the Cal Tech engineers carried out their first flight tests in which Captain

Homer Boushey, using four JATO canisters attached to his Ercoupe monoplane,

rapidly climbed to an altitude of 20 feet . Malina was ecstatic . Continued test successes brought in a JATO contract from the Navy, and von Karman and Malina in

1942 decided to capitalize on their growing project by forming a private company,

Aerojet Engineering Company, to produce the jet canisters and work on other

rocket-related contracts they expected to receive."

In late 1943, after reviewing intelligence reports on German rocket development,

von Karman wrote a brief paper entitled, "Memorandum on the Possibilities of

Long-Range Rocket Projectiles," in which he proposed that the AAF support

development of a 1o,ooo-pound air-breathing missile with a seventy-five-mile

range as an extension of JATO research . When the AAFdemurred, the Army

Ordnance Department stepped in and offered von Karman a far more challenging

contract . The scientist readily agreed to the Army's project, which called for

producing a 20,000-pound liquid-propellant rocket with a burn time ofsixty

seconds and a range of nearly forty miles. Organized under Frank Malina, the large

project became known as ORDCIT (representing Ordnance, California Institute of

Technology), until renamed the Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) in November 1944 .

Their work would lead to the successful launching of the WAC Corporal series of

liquid-propellant sounding rockets after the war. Meanwhile, as the Army's Ord-
During much of the war, von Karmdn served as an aeronautical troubleshooter

for Hap Arnold, the Commanding General of the AAF. By 1944 Arnold had become

convinced that the next war, unlike the last, would demand far more technical

competence . As Chief of the Army Air Forces, he said, his job was to

project [himself] into the future; to get the best brains available, have

them use as a background the latest scientific developments in the air

arms . . . and determine what steps the United States should take to have

the best Air Force in the world twenty years hence."

In September of that year he called on von Karmdn to lead a study group

comprised of civilian and military experts to chart a course for the Air Force future.

Arnold outlined his objectives for the group in a 7 November 1944 memorandum,

"AAF Long Range Development Program ." In order to place Air Force research and

development programs on a "sound and continuing basis," he called for a plan

whose farsighted thinking would provide a sound prescription for preparing Air

Force research and development programs as well as congressional funding requests . Because "our country will not support a large standing Army" and "personnel casualties are distasteful, we will continue to fight mechanical rather than

manpower wars ." Given these constraints, he said, how can science be used to

provide the Air Force with the best means to ensure the nation's security?"

With Arnold's strong support to overcome any bureaucratic impediments, von

Kdrmdn began work immediately, and by December had brought together a group

of twenty-two renowned scientists and engineers. Calling itself the Army Air Forces

Scientific Advisory Group, it would remain in place and continue as the Scientific

Advisory Board after the Air Force became a separate service in September 1947 .

Following field trips to Europe and Russia to assess the current state of research, von

Kdrmdn's group on 22August 1945 issued a preliminary report, Where We Stand,

which explored the "fundamental realities" of future air power. The report argued

that technological advances led by Germany during the war set the stage for an air

force that must embrace supersonic flight, long-range guided missiles with highly

destructive payloads, and jet propulsion to achieve air superiority. Von Karmdn

viewed government-supported research centers on the German model as a major

element in the postwar national defense structure. Where We Stand raised crucial

questions about the future of air power, and the Scientific Advisory Group intended

to provide answers in its final report to General Arnold due at the end of the year."

Meanwhile, while von Karmdn and his team in late 1945 gathered additional field

data and prepared their final report to the AAF chief, Arnold took additional steps

to shape the future Air Force's scientific focus. Two of the most important involved

the creation of Project Rand and a new Air Staff office to establish and direct the

Army Air Forces' research and development agenda.
pppjpgg

strategic planning based on ongoing scientific and technological advances .

Collbohm's ideas had taken shape during his wartime association with Dr. Edward

L. Bowles, who had served as General Arnold's special technical consultant. Late

that month, Arnold and Bowles flew to California, where at Hamilton Field, north

of San Francisco, they met with Collbohm and Donald Douglas, who strongly

supported the proposal . At their meeting, Arnold decided to divert $io million from

the fiscal year 1946 procurement budget for Douglas Aircraft to organize a group of

civilian scientists and engineers at Santa Monica, California, which would function

independently of the company's existing research and engineering division. It would

serve as a technical consultant group charged with operations analysis and longrange planning to examine future warfare and the best way the Air Force could

perform its missions . Shortly thereafter, the Air Materiel Command (AMC) and

Douglas Aircraft agreed to a three-year, $1o million contract for Project Rand to

begin operating in May 1946 ."

To provide an Air Staff focus for Project Rand and other research activities, General

Arnold also created the office ofDeputy Chiefof Air Staff for Research and Development.The new position, which became effective 5 December 1945, drew criticism from

the powerful Air Materiel Command, which heretofore tightly controlled the AAF

procurement process from initial requirements to completed system . AMC favored

rigid directives establishing specific AAF-determined goals for contractors without

involving civilians in the planning process Critics complained that research fell

victim to production priorities at AMC. The new arrangement reflected Arnold's

flexible approach to research and development whereby Rand would conduct broad

investigations to see what could be accomplished and recommend courses ofaction

and the new Air Staff office would provide central direction . AMC never reconciled

itself to the new Air Staff position, while the Air Staff remained unwilling to assign it

specific responsibility for the satellite and guided missiles programs . These would

remain subjects of intra-Air Force organizational squabbles throughout the preSputnik period . Nevertheless, initial prospects for achieving Arnold's goals appeared

bright when he selected as his first Deputy Chief of Staff for Research and Development the hard-driving combat veteran, Major General Curtis E. LeMay"

In November 1945, General Arnold became the first prominent military figure to

address future warfare in terms of missile and satellite potential . In a report to

Secretary of War Robert Patterson on 12 November, the air chief described the

future importance ofmissiles and satellites as a means of preventing another Pearl

Harbor-like surprise attack on the United States, and he outlined his vision for the

nation's air arm . Strongly opposing shortsighted focus on present day forces, he

cautioned that
Present equipment is but a step in progress, and any Air Force which does

not keep its doctrines ahead of its equipment, and its vision far into the

future, can only delude the nation into a false sense of security.Z'

For Arnold, the forces of the future must never be sacrificed for the forces of the

present. While the current state of technology convinced him to support manned

aircraft, he envisioned a pilotless air force and supported developing intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) for the future Air Force. Profoundly affected by the

German V-2 (A-4) rocket missile, he called for a similar weapon for the American

arsenal, one "having greatly improved range and precision, and launched from great

distances. [Such a weapon] is ideally suited to deliver atomic explosives, because

effective defense against it would prove extremely difficult ." In perhaps his most

controversial prognostication, he proposed launching such "projectiles" from "true

space ships, capable of operating outside the earth's atmosphere. The design of such

a ship is all but practicable today; research will unquestionably bring it into being

within the foreseeable future ." Much of General Arnold's vision for his future Air

Force received strong backing from Theodore von Karman's monumental study on

the state of air force technology-past, present, and future .'-2

After General Arnold suffered a massive heart attack in October 1945, von

Karman drove his group hard to conclude their work by the end of the year. In midDecember 1945 von Karman's team produced the remarkable 33-volume report,

Toward New Horizons. The first volume, "Science : The Key to Air Supremacy," set

the tone by declaring that the Air Force should establish its policy, create new

organizational alignments, and lay the "foundation oforganized research" so that

science would become an integral part of the Air Force. Von Karman proceeded to

discuss many specific means for providing technological training for service

personnel and adequate research and development facilities, for disseminating

scientific ideas at the staff and field levels, and promoting cooperation between the

Air Force and science and industry. Regarding the latter, he noted that the Air Force

preferred to sponsor research and development activities outside its own organizations, and this should be continued on a broader scale through extensive contacts

with universities, research facilities, and scientists . As a means of providing continued scientific advice to Air Force leaders, he recommended that Arnold continue

the Scientific Advisory Group as a permanent institution.z'

Toward NewHorizons expanded on issues discussed in von KArman's "Science :

The Key to Air Supremacy." The report's assessments of space issues are particularly

interesting . Both jet and rocket propulsion received considerable attention, and

von Karman predicted the eventual operational success of ICBMs and declared the

"satellite" . . ."a definite possibility." In his memoirs, von Karman recounts that his

group "examined the thrust capabilities of rockets and concluded that it was per10
fact, neither ICBMs nor satellites received more than passing mention because von

Karman and his colleagues believed that technological barriers would delay successful ballistic missiles for at least a decade. The report proceeded to emphasize what

could be achieved within the atmosphere with jet propulsion . Indeed, von Karman

proposed that the Air Force implement a deliberate, step-by-step guided missile

development program based on air-breathing missiles rather than ballistic rockets.

The Air Force would accept von Karman's argument and follow the air-breathing

approach to missile development. Although von Karman differed with other

prominent scientists who dismissed the ICBM entirely, his recommendations served

to chart an Air Force course that would delay development of the long-range

ballistic missile.

25

Nevertheless, Toward NewHorizons proved to be a landmark because it established the importance of science and long-range forecasting in the Air Force. In

staking out a role for military research, von Karman differed fundamentally with

colleagues like highly regarded Dr. Vannevar Bush, who believed that the military

services should confine themselves to improving existing weapons and leave new

scientific ideas to the civilian experts . Toward NewHorizons helped ensure that the

Air Force would reflect von Karman's thinking . As his biographer aptly concludes,

von Karman's "detailed, highly technical blueprint set the agenda of research and

development [in the Air Force] for decades to come.""

Arnold's and von Karman's comments did not escape the attention of Dr. Bush,

then the influential Director of the Office for Scientific Research and Development,

and Chairman of the Joint Committee on NewWeapons of the Joint Chiefs ofStaff.

Having sharply differed with von Karman on military prerogatives in the research

field, he turned his attention to the predictions of military officers on matters scientific. Appearing before a special Senate Committee on Atomic Energy in December

1945, Dr. Bush observed that

We have plenty enough to think about that as [sic] very definite and very

realistic-enough so that we don't need to step out into some of these

borderlines, which seem to me more or less fantastic . Let me say this :

There has been a great deal said about a 3,000-mile high angle rocket . In

my opinion such a thing is impossible and will be impossible for many

years. The people who have been writing these things that annoy me

have been talking about a 3,000-mile high-angle rocket shot from one

continent to another carrying an atomic bomb, and so directed as to be a

precise weapon which would land on a certain target such as this city. I

say technically I don't think anybody in the world knows how to do such

a thing, and I feel confident it will not be done for a very long period of

time to come I think we can leave that out of our thinking . I wish the

American public would leave that out of their thinking .21
had appeared the previous month.

Although Dr. von Karman could characterize Vannevar Bush as "a good man. . .

limited in vision,"" Bush and other prominent civilian scientists who expressed

similar criticism had a major influence on the Air Force missile and space development programs . Their pessimism reflected current thinking in many postwar circles

that contributed to stifling research by limiting it to the technical problems posed

by ICBMs. In the postwar flush of victory and sense ofAmerican superiority, the

American monopoly of seemingly scarce of fissionable uranium and the great

weight of the first atomic bombs produced an air of complacency about the

technological future. Atomic bombs of over five tons and relatively poor destructive

capacity ("kill-radius") suggested that missiles could never be constructed with

sufficient thrust and guidance accuracy to provide a credible operational weapon.

Dr. Bush continued until his retirement in 1948 to manage research and development for the Defense Department, where he became known for his parsimonious

funding of military programs that could not guarantee progress to his satisfaction .' 9

CHAPTER 1

Before Sputnik:

The Air Force Enters the Space Age, 1945-1957

n the aftermath of World War Il Air Force leaders laid the foundation for

future operations in space by establishing a clear research and development

focus for the new service . Commanding General ofthe Army Air Forces Henry H.

"Hap" Arnold and his eminent scientific advisor Theodore von Karman set the

course through their policy statements, organizational decisions, and comprehensive analysis ofAir Force scientific requirements for a technological future. Their

legacy appeared endangered in the late 1940s when tight budgets and higher

priorities confined space and long-range missile development to low level studies at

best. Air Force leaders seemed intent on establishing Air Force responsibility for the

as-yet-to-be-determined space mission, but unwilling to promote the development

ofsatellites and booster missiles that would make possible such a mission .

By the early i95os, however, change was in the air. New concerns about Soviet

political activity and ICBM development compelled leaders to reexamine the country's defense posture. In doing so, missiles and satellites received new attention .

Larger defense budget outlays and successful testing of thermonuclear devices

offered the promise of a feasible ballistic missile and space booster. A number of

government officials and Air Force officers who shared Arnold's legacy acted as

catalysts for change by creating new organizational structures and promoting

greater awareness of spaceflight opportunities . They faced strong opposition every

step of the way. Yet on the eve of Sputnik, their considerable efforts helped bring

the Air Force and the nation to threshold of space.
p

ofdomestic priorities, Arnold and other Air Force innovators quickly realized that it

was one thing to advocate an imaginative, liberally-funded research and development

program for the Army Air Forces (AAF) and quite another to have it put into

practice by a conservative military establishment . The Air Force's initial involvement with artificial earth satellites illustrates the difficulty of gaining approval for

a system ofthe future rather than the present .

In early 1946, the AAF found itself about to be outmaneuvered by Naval officers

who had been pursuing satellite feasibility studies since the end ofthe war. Captivated

by a space study written in May 1945 by German space scientist Wernher von Braun,

as well as the horde of captured V-2 rocket components, Dr. Harvey Hall of the

Navy's Bureau of Aeronautics Electronics Division proposed a testing program to

determine the feasibility of artificial satellites . Based on a current Naval hydrogen

rocket motor development program, Commander Hall's team formed a Committee

for Evaluation of the Feasibility of Space Rocketry and envisioned launching a

liquid hydrogen-oxygen single-stage earth satellite to conduct scientific testing .

Naval leaders agreed, and Hall called on four companies, including GALCIT, for

technical assistance with fuels, electronic components and structural characteristics .

Early in the new year, all four agreed that a satellite could be placed in earth orbit if

the Navy proved willing to provide sufficient funding .'

Unable to gain the required Naval financial support, Commander Hall proposed a

cooperative space venture to AAF representatives at a 7 March 1946 meeting of the

War Department's Aeronautical Board. Although AAF Board members questioned

the high costs involved, they expressed interest and promised to consult with Major

General Curtis E. LeMay, Arnold's Deputy Chief of Staff for Research and Development, before the Board reconvened on 14 May. After discussions with General Carl

A . Spaatz, who replaced General Arnold on 1 March as commanding general, LeMay

informed Hall that the AAF could not support the Navy project but nevertheless

would continue discussions on the subject. Already AAF leaders had decided that

artificial earth satellite programs should be an AAF responsibility based on the

argument that military satellites represented an extension of strategic air power. For

the first time air leaders outlined the rationale for an Air Force space mission that

would appear haphazardly over the next ten years, then surface prominently during

the roles and missions debates after Sputnik .

To forestall the Navy's initiative in the spring of 1946 and help establish AAF

primacy in the field, the service needed to demonstrate competence equal to the

Navy's . In April LeMay turned to Project Rand for the necessary technical expertise .

In just three weeks, the Rand team of sixteen experts completed their justly celebrated 250-page engineering analysis of a "World-Circling Spaceship ."' Based on

1 4
where it is possible to design and construct craft which can penetrate the atmosphere and achieve sufficient velocity to become satellites of the earth:" Indeed, the

report predicted that the U.S . could launch a 500-pound satellite into a 300-mile

orbit within five years at a cost of $150 million. Rand's analysts declared that even

their most conservative engineers agreed, and they supported their prediction with

a series of detailed studies in two chief areas.

One comprised technical feasibility studies dealing with such satellite-related

issues as propulsion options, risks posed by potential meteor strikes, trajectory

analyses, the important "re-entry" challenges posed by the intense heat objects

would encounter returning through the earth's atmosphere, and, in contrast to

the Navy's single-stage rocket, the use of a three-stage liquid hydrogen-oxygen

rocket booster. The analysts argued that no technical challenge they investigated

seemed overwhelming .

In a second area, noted radar expert Louis N. Ridenour examined a number of

potential military satellite uses in a chapter titled "The Significance ofa Satellite

Vehicle." Focusing on defense support or "passive" military uses ofsatellites, he

described satellites as nearly invulnerable observation platforms that could provide

weather and bomb damage assessment data. He went on to describe the satellite as a

communications relay station, in which satellites could be positioned at an altitude

of approximately 25,000 miles so that "their rotational period would be the same as

that of the earth ." For the first time, a serious satellite proposal projected launching

satellites into geosynchronous orbit for effective, worldwide communications .'

Ridenour devoted most of his chapter to the satellites' scientific role in supplying

important data unaffected by atmospheric conditions . As an aid to research, the

satellite could facilitate the study of cosmic rays and provide precise gravitational

measurements, as well as considerable astronomical data . Moreover, instrumented

satellites could furnish important bio-astronomical information for medical

scientists concerned with life in an acceleration-free environment.

Despite Ridenour's coverage of "passive" defensive military functions, he briefly

raised the possibility ofusing satellites as offensive weapons. Given the onset ofthe

missile age, he argued, satellites could provide both accurate guidance for missiles

and serve as missiles themselves . He based his argument on the compatibility

between missile and satellite technology as well as launch velocity requirements.

As he explained,

There is little difference in design and performance between an intercontinental rocket missile and a satellite . Thus a rocket missile with a

free space trajectory of 6,ooo miles requires a minimum energy of

launching which corresponds to an initial velocity of 4.4 miles per second, while a satellite requires 5 .4 . Consequently, the development of a

1 5
In short, if you produce an ICBM, you also have a satellite launcher. In the future,

however, the technical relationship between long-range missiles and satellites would

remain largely unexploited. Even missile advocates normally argued that satellite

development interfered with the greater need to accelerate missile programs . Later,

closer examination would show that satellite technology could be applied to missile

guidance systems and thereby contribute to missile development. The missions

identified by Louis Ridenour would become a part of the Air Force and the national

space program from the Eisenhower administration forward. Unfortunately, many

of the Rand study's predictions and analyses would be forgotten in the years ahead.

David Griggs, for example, in the report's introduction turned his vision to the

future :

Though the crystal ball is cloudy, two things seem clear: i . A satellite

vehicle with appropriate instrumentation can be expected to be one of

the most potent scientific tools of the Twentieth Century. z. The

achievement of a satellite craft by the United States would inflame the

imagination of mankind, and would probably produce repercussions in

the world comparable to the explosion of the atomic bomb.'

Armed with the Rand study, General LeMay formally declined the Navy offer of a

joint Navy-AAF program at the May meeting of the Aeronautical Board and staked

out the AAF's claim to potential satellite operations . At the same time board

members decided that the costs of developing and operating a satellite did not

justify a major effort on a project of questionable military utility The Board agreed

to permit both services to continue their studies, with the jurisdictional assignment

of satellite responsibility left unresolved .

The 1946 Rand report established the technical feasibility of orbiting a satellite

but ruled out its likely use as an offensive weapon because available propulsion

systems could not launch heavy atomic weapons into earth orbit. Given this restriction, the problem became establishing a credible role for an orbiting satellite that

couldjustify the enormous cost andquiet the skeptics of"push-button warfare."

During the next several years, Rand's satellite proposals would continue to founder

on the criticism of cost and utility, while greater interest in developing guided missiles

served to retard satellite progress further.

The Air Force Shuns Ballistic Missiles

The analysts at Rand underscored the relationship between satellite and missile

development. Not only would progress with satellites promote greater interest in

missiles as boosters, but improvement in satellite technology could benefit missile

development as well . Yet, theAir Force establishment, which focused on its bomber

fleet, seemed unaware of the potential for mutual benefits, and later in the 1950s,

1 6
interfere with missile development. The Rand analysts also might have noted that

the missile-satellite relationship meant that any progress with satellites would

depend on developments in the higher priority missile field . In the years after the

Second World War, however, neither subject drew significant attention from the

Truman administration and the defense establishment . As with satellite proposals,

initial postwar interest in long-range guided missiles soon succumbed to an Air

Force policy that relied on strategic bombers carrying air-breathing missiles,

interservice conflicts over roles and missions, and administration-imposed budget

ceilings that compelled Air Force planners to focus on present needs.'

General Arnold was not the only military leader impressed by the German V-2

achievements during the war. In the flush of victory, all the services sought to build

on the wartime experience by conducting rocket and guided-missile experiments

based either on aerodynamic, jet-propelled "cruise" missile principles, or the

German V-2 short-range liquid-propellant ballistic rocket technology. Operation

Paperclip brought nearly 130 leading German rocket scientists, a vast array of data,

and approximately too dismantled V-2S to White Sands, New Mexico . There, under

Project Hermes, the Army Ordnance Division conducted upper atmospheric research into airborne telemetry, flight control, and two stage rocket capability with

representatives from the Air Force, the Air Force Cambridge Research Center, the

General Electric Company, the Naval Research Laboratory, and a number of

scientific institutions, universities, and government agencies. From 1946 to 1951,

participants received valuable data from 66 V-2s that first carried various scientific

instruments then, later, primates .'

By early 1949 the Army, which viewed rockets as extensions of artillery, had successfully used a V-2 as the mother vehicle to launch the Jet Propulsion Laboratory's

WAC Corporal second-stage rocket to an altitude of 250 miles. As Frank Malina

noted, "the WAC Corporal thus became the first man-made object to enter extraterrestrial space."' These early V-2-based Bumper-WAC experiments set the stage

for the Army's future missile and space program involving the Redstone, Jupiter,

and Juno boosters developed by the von Braun team under Army supervision after

it moved in 1950 from Fort Bliss, Texas, to the Redstone Arsenal at Huntsville,

Alabama. Postwar naval rocket research led by the Applied Physics Laboratory of

Johns Hopkins University and the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington, D.C .,

produced two reliable and effective sounding rockets : the fin-stabilized Aerobee, a

larger version of the WAC Corporal modified for production as a sounding rocket,

which achieved a height of 8o miles; and the more sophisticated Viking, which

would reach an altitude of 158 miles in May 1954 A modified Viking eventually

would provide the booster for the four-stage Project Vanguard, the nation's first

"civilian" space program.

1 7
stayed within the atmosphere and the initial Air Force domain . Short-range jetpropulsion weapons seemed to offer faster development and better range and

payload capabilities . They also directly complemented the strategic bomber fleet,

the nation's intercontinental strike force of the day. In October 1945 the Army Air

Forces solicited proposals from seventeen aircraft companies for a ten-year research

and development program for pilotless aircraft, and the fiscal year 1946 budget

included an impressive twenty-six different projects. Yet only two involved missiles

in the 5,000 mile range, and one of these consisted of a Northrop Aircraft supersonic turbojet vehicle . The other, a supersonic ballistic rocket design from the

Consolidated Vultee Aircraft Corporation (Convair), would serve as the precursor

of the future Atlas ICBM."'

If the Army Air Forces seemed devoted to shorter-range air-breathing missiles, it

could not abandon long-range missile development to the Army or Navy. All three

services jealously guarded their prerogatives and jockeyed fiercely with their rivals over

roles and missions in the new postwar world . As it looked to a future as an independent service, the ArmyAir Forces proved particularly sensitive to new, unproved

weapon fields such as rockets and missiles . While General LeMay in early 1946 staked

out the AAF's claim to any prospective satellite mission, he also became embroiled

with Army and Navy representatives over which service should be responsible for

what types of missiles . Above all, the Army Air Forces took special interest in

missiles it considered strategic .

Confusion and friction about missile development and operational control first

emerged during the war in the competition within and among the services . A number ofArmy Air Forces offices asserted their "special" interests, while attempting to

ward offthe Army Ordnance Command and various elements in the War Department. A directive issued by Lieutenant General Joseph T. McNarney Deputy Chief

ofStaff of the Army, on 2 October 1944, attempted to clarify the situation by

assigning the AAF responsibility for "all guided or homing missiles launched from

the ground which depend for sustenance primarily on the lift of aerodynamic

forces ." Although this ruling appeared to award the Army Ordnance Department

(the Army Service Force) the ballistic missile mission, the AAF, which sought

primary responsibility for all missile "programs," continued to complain of Army

encroachment into the aerodynamic field ."

Conflict persisted into the postwar era as each of the services pursued its own

guided missile program while keeping a wary eye on its competitors . In a revealing

memorandum in September 1946 to AAF chief General Spaatz, General LeMay

expressed his concerns aboutthe Air Force maintaining its rightful "strategic role :'

Admitting that the "long-range future of the AAF lies in the field of guided missiles,"

he cautioned that theArmy's success in controlling guided missiles might embolden

1 8
missiles are extensions of artillery . LeMay saw the possibility of the Air Force losing

control of a weapon system that might replace manned aircraft in the future. Yet

control of the weapon did not necessarily mean that it should be developed, at least

at the present time. Meanwhile, the Navy entered the contest for preeminence.

Given AAF aspirations and its strategic mission, Naval leaders joined their Army

counterparts in arguing that each service should have the freedom to develop

missiles in response to its particular needs

On 7 October 1946 the War Department's Assistant Secretary ofWar (Air),

W. Stuart Symington, attempted to settle the dispute by awarding the AAF responsibility for research and development activities pertaining to all guided missiles . The

directive remained silent, however, on the important question of ultimate operational assignment. The issue lay dormant until after September 1947, when the

establishment of an independent Air Force reopened the competition. A year later

the Defense Department achieved a modicum of peace when the Air Force relinquished its responsibility for conducting research and development work for the

Army In return, the Air Force received authority to develop strategic missiles, while

the Army became responsible for tactical missiles . Meanwhile, the Air Force

continued its pathbreaking ballistic missile defense studies, Projects WIZARD and

THUMPER. Although the latter was cancelled in March 1948, Project WIZARD

continued until early 1958, when then Secretary of Defense Neil H McElroy reacted

to persistent feuding over ballistic missile defense responsibilities by awarding the

Army the mission of strategic defense and merging WIZARD with the Army's NIKEZEUS anti-ballistic missile system ."

The problem ofinterservice rivalry over missiles received little help from the

defense committees most responsible for providing direction. With passage ofthe

National Security Act of 1947, the Research and Development Board replaced the joint

Research and Development Board. Dr Vannevar Bush continued as chairman until

his retirement in October 1948. Neither he nor those active on subordinate committees, like the Committee on Guided Missiles, possessed the authority needed to

provide the firm direction . Too often they allowed the complex committee system

to work to their disadvantage and avoid decisive action.

Throughoutthe conflict over roles and missions, theAir Force demonstrated more

interest in gaining and preserving its prerogatives than moving ahead with a strong

missile research and development program. Paradoxically, as the Air Force's commitment to develop an ICBM diminished, its determination to be designated sole

authority responsible for long-range missiles increased. Even with long-range cruise

missiles, for which Air Force leaders sought exclusive control based on the service's

strategic mission, it normally chose not to implement programs leading to operational missiles . Efforts to garner exclusive control ofmissiles would continue . In

1 9
missiles . Two years later, in a very important March 195o decision, the Air Force

received official responsibility for developing long-range strategic missiles and short

range tactical missiles . Later, near the end of the Truman administration, the Air

Force successfully defeated the Army's bid to develop the Redstone rocket's range

beyond Zoo miles. The strategic mission would remain with the Air Force."

In the late 1940s Air Force leaders signaled their attitude about research and

development when forced to respond to the Truman administration's drastic

economy drive that began in late 1946. Compelled to choose between supporting

the forces ofthe present and those of the future, the Air Staff ignored the admonitions of General Arnold and Dr. von Karman by focusing on manned aircraft to

the detriment of guided missiles . As a result, Air Force research and development

programs for missiles suffered drastically in the late 1940s.

Budget figures help tell the story of decline . Air Force leaders needed to show a

firm commitment to research in terms of policy advocacy and budget allocation .

As expressed by General Benjamin W. Chidlaw, commander of Air Materiel Command, "Many people have given lip-service to the magic phrase `Research and

Development: Very few of us have really fought for it-and made sacrifices for it.""

Without such a commitment, the Truman economy drive was bound to seriously

erode research and development funding and projects . The fiscal year 1946 Army Air

Forces budget allocated $28.8 million for research and development, with half earmarked to support the twenty-six guided missile programs sponsored in 1946. The

initial fiscal year 1947 budget reflected the importance of research with a grant of

$75 .7 million, $29 million of which was dedicated to guided missiles research. Then

the budget ax fell . Under pressure from the Defense Department, in December 1946

the Air Force cut the missile budget by $5 million and eleven missile projects .

Additional funding cuts in May led planners to eliminate five more programs .''

Faced with drastic reductions in the guided missile program, the Air Materiel

Command decided to protect thoseprograms promising the earliest tactical operational availability, and in June 1947 General Hoyt S. Vandenberg approved the AMC

recommendations. This criterion effectively eliminated the only long range guided

missile project, the MX-774, and the Air Force terminated the Convair contract on

1 July. That same month the Air Staff established development priorities for managing the smaller budgets they expected in the future. The subsonic bomber and airto-air and air-to-surface missiles received top priority. In the belief that long-range

surface-to-surface missiles would be prohibitively expensive and require ten years to

develop, build and launch, long-range ballistic missiles stood at fourth priority."

By 1947 the pressure to downgrade the development priority oflong-range missiles proved overwhelming . In the growing Cold War conflict the administration increasingly looked to strategic bombers, supported by cruise missiles, and the atomic

20
py 

tionary, weapon and "push-button" warfare found themselves outmatched in

competition for funding. Critics focused on the technological challenges of missile

development . The budget slashers argued that putting scarce funds into a research

program that might not be realized for a decade or possibly never could not be

justified in light of current priorities . Therefore one must continue with a cautious

step-by-step approach to any long-range missile program . Missile advocates found

themselves victims of a circular argument: missiles seemed too challenging technologically, but no funds could be spent on solving the technological dilemmas ; so the

problems would go unresolved and the missile would remain "impossible ." To questions about the logic of budgeting for missile programs, the answer always seemed

to be the dogmatic response : "the time is not right" for an expanded program.

The Air Force's devotion to aerodynamic missiles like the intercontinental

Navaho, with its combination ramjet-booster rocket propulsion, and the subsonic

Snark and Matador missiles also must be seriously questioned . Planners consistently

offered the rationale that aerodynamic research benefited ballistic missile research.

This proved correct to a point, as shown by the transfer of the Navaho Rocketdyne

engines for use in the Redstone and Atlas systems. Yet cruise missile guidance

systems offered little commonality, while aerodynamic vehicles could provide no

help with the ICBM's high-speed reentry from space into the upper atmosphere .

Sadly, Air Force scientists never reexamined the assumptions so forcefully established in the 1945 von Karman reports . Moreover, not one of the reports called for

research and development to achieve strategic reconnaissance ." Although the Air

Staff reassessed guided missile priorities in 1948 and 1949, it elected not to change

them. Fortunately, Convair decided to use its own funds to continue the MX-774

project under imaginative Karel Bossart. Bossart's team persevered with their

innovative experiments involving swiveling engines, internal fuel storage and tank

design, and various means of separating the nose-cone warhead as a solution to the

formidable reentry problem. All would prove important in designing the Atlas

ICBM in the early 1950s . Meanwhile, in the late 1940s the outlook for the long-range

guided missile project appeared bleak.

Ballistic Missiles Receive New Life

The first serious signs ofa change in attitude toward research and development in

general and guided missiles in particular appeared in 1949. Faced with growing

criticism, General Vandenberg requested the Scientific Advisory Board to examine the

state ofAir Force research and development . It appointed a special committee chaired

by widely respected Louis N. Ridenour . Throughout the summer of 1949 he and his

committee examined research and development programs, then on 21 September

submitted a highly critical report. The committee determined that "existing orga2 1
nation ." Its major recommendations included ensuring better assignment and

promotion opportunities for technical officers and reorienting budget priorities

because "if war is not imminent, then the Air Force of the future is far more

important than the force-in-being and should, if necessary, be supported at its expense." The Ridenour Report is best remembered, however, for its organizational

recommendations: the creation of a deputy chief of staff for research and development on the Air Staff, and a new major Air Force command for research and

development ." This was von Kdrmdn's wish, too.

Because of expected opposition within the Air Force to a "civilian" report that

called for radical change, sympathetic officers like Major General Donald L. Putt,

the Director of Research and Development in the office of the Deputy Chief of

Staff for Materiel, helped create a parallel, senior-level military group that would

undertake a review similar to the Ridenour study and thereby promote broader

acceptance for its recommendations. Their efforts produced the Anderson Committee, named for its chairman, Air University's General O. A. Anderson, which

conducted extensive interviews throughout the Air Force before issuing its report

on t8 November 1949. The Anderson Report strongly supported the Ridenour

Committee's findings, and used the effective argument that failing to implement

the recommendations might easily lead the Army and Navy to "take over responsibilities abdicated by the USAF."

The powerful arguments for change convinced General Vandenberg to promptly

implement the organizational recommendations. On 23 January 1950, the Air Force

created the Office ofthe Deputy Chiefof Staff, Development, and the Air Research

and Development Command (ARDC) with headquarters at the Sun Building in

Baltimore, Maryland. Yet it would take the "personal salesmanship" of Lieutenant

General James H. ("Jimmy") Doolittle, acting as special assistant to General

Vandenberg a year later in the spring of 1951, to end Air Materiel Command's footdragging . In late March General Vandenberg ordered the immediate transfer of

AMC's Engineering Division and other designated responsibilities and functions to

the new command, and reassignment ofARDC directly to Air Force headquarters

rather than AMC. If the new arrangement divided responsibility for weapons

acquisition between the two commands, it nevertheless served to highlight the

importance of the research and development function in contrast to the heretofore

production-oriented Air Materiel Command. Significantly, the Air Staff assigned

the guided missiles program to the new command."

While the Air Force made organizational changes in the early 1950s, events on the

international scene contributed to major reassessments of the country's defensive

posture . News that the Soviet Union had successfully detonated an atomic bomb in

22
progress in missile development led to calls for increased military preparedness both

in and outside the administration . The outbreak of the Korean War in June 1950

served to heighten the growing sense of national weakness . In the summer of 1950,

for example, Under Secretary of the Air Force for Research and Development John

A. McCone submitted reports on America's vulnerability to Soviet attack to Secretary of the Air Force Thomas K. Finletter, advocating a "Manhattan-type" program

for missiles under the "most capable man who can be drafted." In late August 1950

President Truman responded to calls for action by appointing T. K. Keller, chairman

of the Chrysler Corporation, "Director of Guided Missiles ." Unfortunately, Keller

approached his job as missile "czar" on a part-time basis, and focused largely on

cruise-type missiles and the Army's tactical Redstone missile . Convair's low-priority

Atlas ballistic missile project received little attention . Nevertheless, the McCone

reports contributed to the movement for action on guided missiles ."'

Other efforts to enhance defense proved more significant . President Truman

early in 195o authorized immediate development ofthe hydrogen or thermonuclear

bomb, while after the outbreak of the Korean War, Congress authorized a 70-group

Air Force and nearly doubled the administration's defense budget request from

$14.4 to $25 billion . Armed with its new wealth, the Air Force reconsidered Convair's

long-range rocket proposal . The company's presentations led to a contract in

January )951 for project MX-1593, whereby Convair would examine both the ballistic

approach and the "glide" vehicles which use rocket power to reach the outer atmosphere then use their wings to glide through the atmosphere to their targets. The

boost-glide approach reflected continued Air Force interest in the postwar °`X"-

series of high-altitude rocket-powered aircraft ."

Convair's six-month contract to conduct a "study and test program" for two

types of missile propulsion hardly represented a ringing endorsement of the ICBM

concept . Nevertheless, by late summer 1951 the Convair engineers had selected the

ballistic-type rocket largely because it represented a weapon considered unstoppable

for the foreseeable future, while they believed the formidable technical problems

solvable by the early 196os. ARDC, which had responsibility for the guided missiles

program, agreed that the missile deserved greater support . Convincing Air Force

headquarters to award it sufficient funding and project priority, however, proved

next to impossible. In the fall of 1951, the Air Staff's Research and Development

Directorate rejected ARDC's request for increased funding and directed a sloweddown five-year test program before considering further commitments. Convair

continued to lobby Air Force headquarters in late 1951 and early 1952, while ARDC's

new commander, General Putt, in a letter to his former office of Research and

Development, argued that the ballistic missile project should be approved immediately because of its total "invulnerability to all presently known countermeasures

and because of the relative simplicity of the entire weapons system." Putt also

23
Missiles Committee of the Defense Department's Research and Development

Board. The Committee authorized only continued studies and component testing,

not the complete Atlas system.22

Despite growing evidence to the contrary, skeptics on the Air Staff and in the

Defense Department continued to view the intercontinental ballistic missile as a

weapon system too complex and likely impossible ever to reach the operational

stage Much of the criticism focused on the old issue of warhead weight. Yet by 1950

the Atomic Energy Commission affirmed the existence of a sufficient number of

atomic weapons small enough to be carried in guided missiles . Moreover, President

Truman noted that in early 195o his military service chiefs proceeded with elaborate

plans to use the H-bomb on the assumption that the tests he had just authorized

would be successful . Test results at Eniwetok in November 1952 proved the feasibility of thermonuclear technology and confirmed their optimism . Based on the test

results, ARDC petitioned the Air Staff to reassess the overly restrictive weight and

accuracy parameters for the Atlas . In response, a Scientific Advisory Board ad hoc

committee chaired by Dr. Clark Millikan reviewed the technical issues . Although

the Millikan Committee concluded that anticipated warhead yields called for

reducing accuracy and guidance requirements, it saw no need to accelerate the

program. Rather it recommended a "step-wise" project that would guarantee "a

review of the project at appropriate intervals ." A sense of urgency remained absent."

At the end of the Truman presidency strategic bombers and cruise missiles represented the key elements in the nation's offensive arsenal, while the ICBM project

moved painfully forward as a cautious, low-funded, phased study and test program

that reflected the traditional skepticism of the Air Staff. Given the fate of ballistic

missile development over the course of the Truman years, satellite proposals could

be expected to garner even less support . Most decision-makers remained blissfully

unaware that missile propulsion, guidance, and reentry technologies could be useful for early stages of space exploration, while the response to guided missiles suggests that such knowledge would have had little bearing on satellite developments .

The Air Force Studies Satellites

In postwar America satellite development followed a pattern similar to that ofguided

missiles . Initial interest faded under budget austerity, and serious government action

only began to appear in the early 1950s. Although critics of ICBMs could stress their

technological challenges, the German experience ofWorld War lI had demonstrated

their potential military worth. Satellites, however, not only suffered from association

with the "fantastic," but left many unconvinced of their military utility.

Back in 1946, while service jurisdiction over satellites remained undecided

following the May meeting of the Aeronautical Board, Rand continued with its

24
E. Lipp, head of Project Rand's Missiles Division, it provided detailed specifications

for a reconnaissance satellite comprised of a three-stage rocket booster with a gross

weight of 82,ooo pounds, orbiting at 350 miles, and costing $82 million . Accompanying documents covering a variety of technical subjects from "Flight Mechanics of

a Satellite Rocket" to "Communication and Observation Problems of a Satellite"

offered contractors guidance for their own design work. The Rand analysis also

identified for further development various component areas such as guidance

control, orbital control, communications equipment and procedures, and reliable

auxiliary power sources . Solar power and miniaturized electronic equipment had

yet to be developed.

Two reference papers provided particularly insightful comments on the potential

importance of reconnaissance satellites . In one, Yale astronomer Lyman Spitzer, Jr .,

addressed tactical satellite support ofnaval operations and the vulnerability of

satellites to attack. Most interesting, he proposed satellites as communications relay

stations and the application ofastronomical telescopic principles to space reconnaissance. His work would contribute later to experiments using long-focal-length

panoramic camera systems for surveillance purposes .

James Lipp's "The Time Factor in the Satellite Program" proved especially significant in light offuture developments . He described the importance ofsatellites for

scientific research, for military operations, for encouraging development oflongrange rockets, and for providing the nation psychological and political benefits .

Among his observations, he discussed polar orbits for recurring surveillance, geostationary orbits to compensate for the earth's rotation, and the use oftelevision

equipment and special telescopes for transmitting electro-optical images to ground

stations . Several ofLipp's perceptive political andpsychological assessments would

prove hauntingly accurate. Noting that other nations would likely pursue satellite

development, he argued that satellite feasibility had been proven, and "the decision

to carry through a satellite development is a matter of timing, depending upon

whether this country can afford to wait an appreciable length of time before

launching definite activity."

Fully aware ofthe danger in waiting too long to develop satellites, he echoed the

warning of David Griggs the year before by declaring: "The psychological effect of a

satellite will in less dramatic fashion parallel that of the atom bomb. It will make

possible an unspoken threat to every other nation that we can send a guided missile

to any spot on earth:" The importance of orbiting satellites outweighed the expense,

he argued, and a "satellite development program should be put in motion at the

earliest time."

Air Force leaders did not share James Lipp's sense of urgency. Six months passed

before they requested Air Materiel Command to evaluate the Rand reports . In its

25
reconnaissance satellite, they questioned both the high costs and lack ofclear

military utility. Constrained by "scarce funds and limited component scientific

talent," the Air Force should not risk supporting a satellite development program

when guided missiles deserved research funding priority. Characteristically, the Air

Staff called for more studies on requirements and desired design specifications . In

view of the severe missile program cuts in the fiscal year 1947 and fiscal year 1948

budgets, satellite advocates had no reason for optimism . With the only ICBM

research program eliminated in July 1947, satellite studies represented the most

proponents could expect and the least skeptical Air Staff planners needed to offer.

Even so, during the next three years defenders of satellite utility studies needed to

work hard to protect the "fantastic" elements from the budget ax .

Even though Air Force leaders proved unwilling to promote satellite development, they were not averse to campaigning for "exclusive rights in space." In

January 1948, Chief of Staff Vandenberg became the first service chief to issue a

policy statement on space interest when he declared that

The USAF, as the service dealing primarily with air weapons-especially

strategic-has logical responsibility for the satellite. Research and

Development will be pursued as rapidly as progress in the guided

missiles art justifies and requirements dictate. To this end, the program

will be continually studied with a view to keeping an optimum design

abreast of the art, to determine the military worth of the vehicleconsidering its utility and probable cost-to insure development in

critical components, if indicated, and to recommend initiation of the

development phases of the project at the proper time ." 29

Although Vandenberg's statementmight be faulted for its lack ofclarity, clearly, once

again, progress in the satellite field would depend on advances in missile technology

without recognition that satellite technology might benefit the missile engineers. At the

same time, funding would remain a major determinant. With sufficient money

available, the Air Force, like the other services, would likely pursue a new mission to

increase its share of the budget.

General Vandenberg's declaration appeared at a most opportune time forAir Force

interests because Defense Department officials had decided once again to address

the organizational squabble over roles and missions . Since September 1947 responsibility for satellite issues in the Defense Department belonged to the Research and

Development Board's Committee on Guided Missiles . In December 1947, the latter

formed a Technical Evaluation Group to assess satellite feasibility . Two months

following Vandenberg's policy dictum, the Committee issued a report that verified

the technical feasibility of satellites, but proceeded to assert that "neither the Navy

nor the USAF has as yet established either a military or a scientific utility commen26
difficult to appreciate the question about military use, especially after the compre

hensive, technical Rand report of 1947. At the same time, the satellite represented a

"passive" weapon system that seldom elicited the interest of planners worried about

supporting conventional strategic weapons. After all, they argued, what could the

satellite do that aircraft could not, and at lower cost? Several years of analysis and

promotion seemed to be required to establish military satellite utility. Significantly,

the Committee recommended continuing with utility studies at Rand and allowing

the research agency permission to consult with industry on system and component

designs for a reconnaissance satellite . ='

Satellites Receive New Life

While Air Force leaders might have been disappointed that the committee did not

endorse Vandenberg's policy statement, at least the Rand studies continued to

receive Defense Department funding . The Navy attempted to join the Air Force as

joint sponsor of the Rand project but failed to overcome the opposition of LeMay

and other Air Force leaders . By the end of 1948, the Navy had "suspended" its

satellite work. The Army, meanwhile, would not reenter the satellite arena until its

Redstone rocket team proposed Project Orbiter in 1954. This left the Air Force alone

on the satellite field, such as it was. Based on the findings of the Technological

Capabilities Committee, Rand proceeded to develop a satellite project with component analyses for "eventual construction and operation of a satellite vehicle ." Rand's

research and study subcontracts would be subject to AMC's approval and the

availability of funds. The key question involved utility. Rand's 1947 study had shown

the serious complications associated with designing a recoverable space vehicle . This

drew their attention in the years ahead almost entirely to instrumented satellites

rather than manned spaceships . The issue for instrumented satellites then became

what equipment would be necessary and what military purposes would they serve?

Rand analysts addressed these questions in several 1949 studies, including one

entitled "Utility ofa Satellite Vehicle for Reconnaissance," and in a studyconference in

1949 it sponsored on the military usefulness ofsatellites . The conference produced an

unusually convincing argument for developing a reconnaissance satellite . Noting that

technology did notyet permit satellites to operate as destructive weapons, conferees

emphasized the passive satellite roles of communications and reconnaissanceespecially as political and psychological weapons designed to alter Sovietpolitical

behavior . After establishing a list of eight basicsatellite characteristics, the analysts

assessed the possible functions such a satellite would likely perform. They concluded

that as a surveillance instrument it could serve as a major element of political strategy.

As a vehicle capable of penetrating the secrets behind the Iron Curtain, it could

provide intelligence that might be used in various ways to modify Soviet actions.

As the conferees concluded,"no other weapon or technique known today offers

27
lance potential of such a satellite .='

This Rand study, too, produced few immediate results . As one more study,

however, it helped foster growing awareness of reconnaissance satellite capabilities

and helped lay the groundwork for passive surveillance applications when Rand

commenced its component studies and designs in 195o after the Air Force received

authority to develop booster rockets . Advocates hoped the new concern with Soviet

missile advances and the Korean War would generate increased interest in strategic

satellites as it seemed to do for missiles .

In late November 1950 Rand recommended theAir Force authorize extension of

Rand's research into specific areas of the reconnaissance satellite mission. With Air

Force approval, Rand investigators produced two reports in April 1951 : "Utility of a

Satellite Vehicle for Reconnaissance" and "Inquiring into the Feasibility of Weather

Reconnaissance from a Satellite Vehicle." The reconnaissance portion drew the most

attention from the Air Force. Based on detailed analysis, it advocated "pioneer

reconnaissance," or extensive coverage using television with a resolution of between

4o and Zoo feet, in a 1,ooo-pound payload with a space vehicle weight of 74,ooo

pounds. With improvements in television technology, the researchers expected to

achieve the 4o-foot dimension in the near future They hoped this would permit

satellites to conduct all military reconnaissance and finally satisfy the skeptics .

The newly activated Air Research and Development Command enthusiastically

supported the Rand findings and authorized Rand to recommend measures needed

to begin development work in the reconnaissance program. Eventually this research

would lead to the milestone Project Feed Back report of1954 . Rand began in 1951 by

subcontracting key subsystems such as orbital sensing and control to North American Aviation, and optical systems, television cameras, and recording equipment to the

Radio Corporation of America (RCA) . In November 1951 the Air Force contracted

with the Atomic Energy Commission to study small nuclear reactors as satellite

power sources . By June 1952 the Commission reported encouraging results from

preliminary testing, and Rand moved forward with its Feed Back research, which

focused on designing and evaluating satellite components. 21

The findings of the Air Force Beacon Hill Study reflected the state ofthese efforts

at the close of the Truman era . In early 1952, the Air Staff authorized a study group,

chaired by Eastman Kodak's Carl Overhage, and consisting of fifteen prominent

reconnaissance specialists, including Polaroid's Edwin Land, Louis Ridenour, and

Lieutenant Colonel Richard Leghorn, USAFR, considered by Rand one of the few

"integrative" thinkers concerned with so-called pre-D-Day reconnaissance . The

report called for various improvements to obtain strategic intelligence, and specified

refinements to sensors lofted in high-altitude aircraft and balloons, sounding

rockets, as well as long-range air-breathing missiles like the Navaho. The group

28
Eisenhower administration . Although the Study addressed important issues, Rand

officials referred to the Beacon Hill Report as "Reconnaissance without Satellites,"

and considered it a setback for reconnaissance satellites . Not a single Beacon Hill

briefing or study addressed either weather reconnaissance or electro-optical

reconnaissance, important applications Rand had been considering for years ."

On the eve of the Eisenhower administration, satellite advocates had cause for

both hope and dismay. The Air Force-sponsored Rand studies had identified a

mission, strategic reconnaissance, and produced increased technical justification for

developing a military satellite . Feed Backresearch involving several hundred scientists

and engineers seemed well underway by the end of 1952 and promised at long last to

set the stage for satellite development. Renewed Air Force interest in the Convair

long-range ballistic missile also indicated that large satellite booster rockets might

soon be available . Yet the Rand reconnaissance proposal remained a planning project, and the ICBM program moved forward at a very leisurely pace. At the beginning of 1953, it remained to be seen how strongly the new Eisenhower regime would

support both satellites and missiles.

Reviewing the course of missile and satellite development in the Truman years,

clearly both satellites and missiles fell victim to skepticism about their practical, military use and to economic retrenchment that grew unabated through the 1940s. In a

sense, General Arnold's retirement in March 1946 left no one of his stature in either

the Air Force or the defense establishment willing to challenge national policy that

favored strengthening the forces in being at the expense of future capabilities . Nor

did Air Force leaders in the late 1940s question seriously the service's gradualist approach to guided missile development or the priority accorded aerodynamic, cruise

missiles rather than long-range ballistic missiles. By the 1950s, however, heightened

security concerns and technological change offered the prospect of breaking with

the past and accelerating the satellite and missile programs .

Eisenhower Faces the Threat of Surprise Attack

President Dwight D. Eisenhower took office in January 1953 determined to implement a "New Look" defense policy that stressed strategic nuclear striking power at

the expense of conventional forces ."' In order to do this and roll back the Truman

administration's Korean War budget from nearly $45 billion to $35 billion, he

charged his Defense Department to end waste and duplication throughout the

services . Missile and space programs could be expected to absorb their share of

Defense Department cutbacks . Indeed, in early 1953 the administration expressed no

particular interest in accelerating either program. Yet in the space ofjust four years,

the regime would come to preside over a costly expansion of both military missile

and satellite programs and a civilian satellite project that together represented the

29
The rapid growth in space activities under Eisenhower, however, became lost in

the wake of the Sputnik launches of October 1957 . Critics contended that the administration had allowed the nation to be humiliated and endangered by failing to

appreciate the political and psychological importance of being first into space and

the demonstration of Soviet leadership in large operational boosters and ICBM

technology. The public sensed a directionless program.

In fact, on the road to a national space policy, Eisenhower and his advisors

followed a far more sophisticated, secretive, and complex path than many at the

time appreciated . Early in the administration, they decided to follow what

amounted to a dual space program that focused on launching a civilian scientific

satellite to establish the principle of unimpeded overflight in space for the military

satellites to follow. The administration had no intention of"racing" the Soviets in

space affairs and gambled that the low priority and modestly funded civilian satellite

venture could be completed in time for launch of the International Geophysical

Year (IGY) . Meanwhile, the major defense effort would be devoted to developing

ICBMs for the "New Look" doctrine of "massive retaliation" as soon as possible .

Given these priorities, the military reconnaissance satellite momentarily represented

the odd man out in the space program.

The Eisenhower space program remains an impressive achievement, if not entirely preplanned . Early in the administration, three developments served to propel

the nation to the threshold of space. One involved the President's determination to

take all possible measures to forestall another "Pearl Harbor." Another concerned

the technological "thermonuclear breakthrough" that solved much of the ICBM

payload weight dilemma. Finally, several determined government officials risked

violating bureaucratic routine to energize the decision-making process. Throughout

the period, the Air Force remained divided between reform minded individuals who

favored accelerated growth of missile and space programs, and more conservative

officials who preferred a cautious, step-by-step approach leading to commitment

well into the future. Although the reform group proved victorious, their members

had to bypass traditional Air Force bureaucratic structure and procedures to achieve

their goals.

Like General Arnold, World War II veteran General Eisenhower could never forget

Pearl Harbor. As president, his scientific advisor, James Killian, remarked that

Eisenhower remained "haunted" . . . "throughout his presidency" by the threat of

surprise nuclear attack on the United States . ; ' To avoid this horror, intelligence data

on Soviet military capabilities became essential . Yet, neither news of Soviet advances

in long-range bombers like the TU-4, or reports on Soviet long-range missile

progress could be verified . At the same time, the development of a thermonuclear

30
py g p

and 1953 heightened awareness by describing the vulnerability of strategic air bases

to attack. The Rand assessments complimented the Central Intelligence Agency's

(CIA) national intelligence estimates that forecasted imminent Soviet atomic

weapons production and delivery capabilities ."

But reports remained confusing or contradictory, and the administration quickly

realized that current intelligence methods could not provide meaningful data. Prehostilities intelligence information became increasingly essential, and all parties

realized that aerial reconnaissance offered the most effective means to solve the

dilemma. The near-term answer became the U-2 high-altitude reconnaissance plane,

while the long-term solution would prove to be the military reconnaissance satellite .

Meanwhile, the best potential satellite boosters also represented the best weapons to

prevent surprise nuclear attack.

Trevor Gardner Energizes the Missile Program

While Eisenhower and his advisors worried about intelligence data, Trevor Gardner,

the "technologically evangelical" Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Research

and Development, made it his mission in public life to convince the government

that the nation must pursue a crash program to develop an operational Air Force

ICBM or face nuclear disaster." Ironically, he assumed his office with the mandate

to implement the expected economy program in the Defense Department by ending

waste and duplication in the Air Force missile program. Assistant Air Force Secretary Gardner was to have a profound influence on the nation's missile program, but

he and his allies felt compelled to go outside established Air Force and Defense

Department structures to carry out their goals.

In April 1953 Gardner called for review of all Air Force missile programs . He instinctively rebelled against ARDC's cautious approach and the Air Staff's persistent

delaying tactics . Their reasoning reflected the dilemma of the self-fulfilling prophecy: missiles represented too costly an investment for an "impossible" system. But

no development money meant that the problems would continue unsolved and the

missile remain "impossible ." Gardner, who had heard reports of the "thermonuclear

breakthrough," knew that, now, accuracy and guidance performance requirements

could be relaxed and the missile no longer need be considered "impossible .""

Fortunately, Gardner found willing allies to accelerate missile development

among middle echelon ARDC and Air Staff officers, as well as the Convair group

promoting Atlas At the same time, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, as part of its military

posture review for the incoming administration, called for a broad-based reexamination of the entire Defense Department missile picture. Gardner received the

assignment to review the country's missile programs based on Secretary of Defense

Charles Wilson's drive to eliminate waste and duplication among the services .

3 1
1953 he convened the Strategic Missiles Evaluation Committee (SMEC) under the

chairmanship of renowned Princeton Institute for Advanced Study mathematician

and activist John von Neumann . This group, which came to be referred to as the

von Neumann Committee, comprised an impressive assemblage of scientists and

engineers, all of whom had been handpicked by Gardner for their "progressive"

views on ICBM requirements as well as their technical brilliance . Trevor Gardner

charged von Neumann's committee to determine the measures necessary to

accelerate development of the Atlas missile .'s

While von Neumann committee members deliberated, a Rand Corporation

group directed by Bruno W. Augenstein neared completion of a similar study on

mounting thermonuclear weapons atop ICBMs. Responding to Air Force direction

to investigate aerodynamic systems, Rand analysts had produced a number of

reports on missiles in the early 1950s that favored ramjets and boost-glide rockets

over ballistic missiles . When nuclear weapons were made smaller, Rand concluded

that ICBMs represented the optimum surprise-attack weapon, which heightened the

challenge to produce pre-hostilities strategic intelligence . At the same time, an

accelerated ICBM program would mean having space boosters available at lower

costs . Rand evaluators worked closely with the von Neumann team, and Augenstein

briefed von Neumann Committee members personally in December 1953 on his

findings . To no one's surprise, the two groups reached similar conclusions in their

final reports, which appeared two days apart in early February 1954. These reports

would help convince President Eisenhower to convene that spring the Surprise

Attack Panel or, as it was soon renamed, the Technological Capabilities Panel,

chaired by James Killian ."

The von Neumann report confirmed the Rand analysis by calling for a drastic

revision of the Atlas ICBM program in light of Soviet missile progress and newly

available thermonuclear technology. Referring to the recent Operation Castle tests in

the spring of 1953, von Neumann predicted the advent ofthermonuclear warheads

weighing only 1,500 pounds with a yield of one megaton. This meant that performance criteria for the Atlas could be reduced, making its development more feasible

within the state ofthe art ."

Critical ofConvair's managementpractices and design, which envisioned an

enormous five-engine rocket to boost the earlier, heavier warhead, the committee

recommended a thorough study of various alternate design approaches and the

establishment ofa new development-management agency in theAir Force authorized

to provide overall technical direction. Committee members considered this agency

more important than all the technical guidance, warhead weight, and reentry

problems yet to be solved. Finally, panel members urgently recommended the

project be given high priority and substantial funding. The von Neumann report

32
Armed with the findings of the Rand and von Neumann Committee studies,

Gardner set off to win support throughout the Air Force hierarchy to expedite an

expanded ballistic missile development effort . After gaining approval from Chief

of Staff General Nathan Twining and Secretary of the Air Force Harold Talbott,

Gardner could successfully counter any disapproval from key air staff agencies and

Air Research and Development Command. The traditional Air Force bureaucracy

did not favor this civilian-sponsored initiative that proposed creating a separate

development-management agency that would bypass established administrative

channels. In the end, the Air Staff supported the Gardner-engineered initiative,

perhaps because disapproval might result in appointment of a new missile "czar"

completely outside the Air Force framework. If not all that the Gardner group

desired, the results nevertheless proved "revolutionary." In April 1954 the Air Staff

proceeded to create a new Air Force headquarters position, an Assistant Chief of

Staff for Guided Missiles, with responsibility for coordinating all Air Force guided

missile activities . The following month, Air Force leaders took a more significant

step by directing ARDC to form a West Coast project office at Inglewood, California .

Organized as the Western Development Division (WDD), the latter represented the

central von Neumann committee recommendation, and Gardner insured that the

new organization's chief would be his ally, Brigadier General Bernard Schriever.

Shortly after the Western Development Division began functioning in August,

General Schriever arranged for the Air Force to contract with the Ramo-Wooldridge

Corporation as full-time technical consultant to his command. Schriever proved to

be a splendid choice to head a crash ICBM program. A young disciple of Hap

Arnold, whom he considered "one of the most farsighted persons" he had ever

known, he had joined Trevor Gardner's reform group in early 1953 while serving on

the Air Staff as Assistant for Development Planning in the office of Deputy Chief of

Staff for Development. He used his intelligence, patience, and superb negotiating

skills with military, government and private industry leaders to become an effective

advocate for missile and space systems causes.

In order to produce an operational missile by the end of the decade, Schriever's

command adopted a number ofmanagerial innovations that would become common practice for the Air Force in future years. Help again came from the von

Neumann committee, which had been reconstituted in April 1954 as the Atlas

Scientific Advisory Committee. Together with Ramo-Wooldridge, the committee

convinced Convair and the Air Force to design a smaller missile capable of carrying

the lighter, powerful hydrogen warhead . Given the time constraints, the planners

chose to develop a "light-weight" three-engine rocket with a thin metal air frame

skin housing the liquid-fuel and oxidizer tanks made rigid through overpressure .

The crash program called for special management techniques, too. In the summer

33
"backed up" by an alternate relying on different technology. This more costly

parallel development approach meshed effectively with the new "concurrent"

procedures pioneered by Schriever and his staff. Under concurrency, all measures

necessary to construct and deploy the system would be completed simultaneously.

Still skeptical of Convair's capabilities, however, Air Force officials applied the

parallel development concept on a larger scale by producing at the same time a

second, more-sophisticated "back-up" ICBM, the Titan. Designers configured the

new Titan as a two-stage liquid-propellant missile, with a more advanced guidance

system, and rigid frame to permit underground deployment . Parallel development

allowed Atlas and Titan program managers to replace subsystems in case of failure

or technological breakthrough, while advanced designs could be pursued without

risk to the overall ICBM program. It served as an effective risk mitigation approach

that proved its worth when the Air Force launched both Atlas and Titan missiles

successfully by the end of the decade."

General Schriever could hardly have expected such future success when he

surveyed the state of his command in the spring of 1954 . Indeed, he faced a major

battle within the Air Force to retain control of his project . Despite his relatively

independent status under ARDC with responsibility for system planning, technical

direction, and budgeting, the Air Materiel Command continued to control the

major funding areas of system production and procurement. To do the job assigned,

General Schriever believed he needed authority over all aspects of missile acquisition, from design, research and development, through production. The Air Staff,

however, refused to compromise on this issue, and AMC maintained its production

prerogative by establishing a Special Aircraft Project Office at Western Development

Division to handle ICBM procurement. According to General Schriever, initial

friction soon gave way to a reasonable "partnership" arrangement after the general

established good rapport with the AMC officers . This far from optimum division of

system management responsibilities would continue until the creation ofAir Force

Systems Command during the organizational reform of 1961 .")

Managerial problems with theAir Materiel Command proved only the tip of the

iceberg . Even though the Secretary ofDefense had declared Atlas of"critical importance" in early 1955, the bureaucratic labyrinth at the Air Staff and the Defense

Department continued to cause bottlenecks and delays because of the multiple

program review levels. Once again Trevor Gardner-encouraged by General

Schriever's active support-decided to bypass the Air Force bureaucracy by going

directly to Congress . Meetings with Senators Clinton Anderson and Henry M.

Jackson, the two most influential members of the Joint Committee on Atomic

Energy, and congressional visits to Schriever's suburban Los Angeles headquarters,

convinced the congressmen to support streamlined management procedures to

34
fears that the United States might be falling behind in the ICBM race ."

The congressmen wrote President Eisenhower in late June 1955 about their

concerns and recommended immediate action on the Atlas program to avoid

funding delays, overcome interference from major Air Force commands, and bypass

the multiple review levels . By fall the President had designated the Atlas ICBM the

"highest national priority" weapon system. Still, procedures remained unchanged,

prompting Trevor Gardner again to seize the initiative by directing Hyde Gillette,

Air Force Deputy for Budget and Program Management, to form a committee to

devise new, more effective procedures for the missile program. In October 1955 the

Gillette Committee's recommendations led to the establishment of a ballistic missiles committee at both Air Staff and Defense Department levels to function as the

sole reviewing authorities for Western Development Division programs . Gone were

the various separate offices that Schriever had to consult individually. Now he submitted a yearly development plan to a single committee, made up of representatives

from the offices concerned with the ICBM program. Although not entirely able to

overcome all Air Staff skeptics and AMC opponents, the Gillette procedures removed

many bureaucratic bottlenecks, and the ICBM program moved ahead rapidly."

By 1955 the momentous procedural and organizational decisions for ICBM

development proved to have a major impact on the military space "program" as

well . Gardner and Schriever, given their focus on missile requirements, could not

be expected to devote their energies to lower-priority satellite activities . In fact, they

viewed the military satellite space program as a competitor for personnel, funds,

and contractors . Nevertheless, the relationship between satellites and missiles had

become better understood as rockets with sufficient thrust soon would be available

to launch the heavier satellites preferred by the Air Force. If the Western Development Division were to gain responsibility for the Air Forces' advanced reconnaissance satellite project, advocates hoped that the Gillette procedures would benefit

satellite development as they promised to do for the ICBM ."

The Air Force Commits to the First Military Satellite

While Secretary Gardner and General Schriever worked on missile issues in the spring

of 1954, the military satellite project also cleared major hurdles . Now, with ICBMs

representing a practical option, Rand's studies on satellite systems received new life,

as the Eisenhower administration sought solutions to the intelligence dilemma of

providing accurate data on Soviet offensive capabilities .

Rand studies had proceeded on the assumption that the Atlas ICBM would provide the space booster required to launch a reconnaissance satellite . Rand also assumed that spaced-based sensing systems offered the best means of quickly relaying

important intelligence data to ground stations . By the spring of 1953, Rand satellite

35
Promising results from Atomic Energy Commission tests on nuclear power for

satellites encouraged the Air Force in May to direct further study of the matter and

to have ARDC begin "active direction" of the reconnaissance satellite program

advanced by Feed Back. In the fall of 1953 Rand officials discussed satellite issues

with a number of important government officials and military officers and, based

on realistic near-term operational feasibility, recommended the Air Force issue a

design contract within a year leading to full system development . By year's end

ARDC had published a management "Satellite Component Study," and assigned it

weapon system [WS] number n7L. Project Feed Back would place the satellite on

the sure path of development ."

Authored by analysts James E. Lipp and Robert M. Satter, Jr., Rand's Feed Back

report appeared in March 1954 in the midst of deliberations about the optimum

ICBM organization ." It drew together findings from the previous two years' intense

study of reconnaissance satellites . The "milestone" Feed Back study proposed an

electro-optical reconnaissance satellite witha television-type imaging system projected

to achieve a resolution of 144 feet from an altitude of 300 miles. The report readily

admitted thatthis resolution could notdeliver the accurate intelligence required and

encouraged the Air Force to foster a competition among industrial firms to develop

a higher resolution system based on long-focal-length, panoramic camera technology. It also discussed newly analyzed operational issues dealing with subsystems,

cost projections, likely international political reactions, and a host of additional

engineering requirements . With this "blueprint" in hand, Rand encouraged the Air

Force to proceed on a full-scale basis with this "vital strategic interest" by implementing a seven-year development program budgeted between $165 and $330

million In the next few years, while Air Force scientists and project officers worked

to develop techniques for safe reentry of space payloads through the atmosphere,

Rand engineers would stress two types of non-recoverable reconnaissance systems:

one relied on television technology and "immediate" data transmission to ground

stations ; the other used tape storage of sensed data that would be transmitted at a

later time.

After some initial hesitation, the Air Force agreed to pursue the Feed Back recommendations further, and in May 1954 directed Air Research and Development

Command to review the military applications ofthe Rand satellite concept . Meanwhile, Rand and ARDC met with various Air Force, Defense Department, and

industry leaders to "sell" the Rand proposal . At the same time ARDC proceeded

with analyses of intelligence processing options, solar-electrical energy converters,

auxiliary power sources, and guidance and control mechanisms . Following approval

from the Defense Department's Coordinating Committee on Guided Missiles, the

command issued a system requirement on 27 November 1954. With this decision,

36
The command followed up in March 1955 with a formal General Operational Requirement ." Now referring to the WS-1171, reconnaissance satellite as the Advanced

Reconnaissance System (ARS), the requirement prescribed continuous surveillance

of "preselected" areas, especially aircraft runways and missile launching sites In

contrast to the Rand study's target resolution parameters, specifications now called

for providing visual coverage of objects no larger than 20 feet on a side, and specified electronic and weather coverage capability, too. With an eye to continued

technological advances, the scheduled operational date of 1965 seemed achievable.

By August, ARDC had named as system project officer Colonel William G. King, Jr.

In November he awarded $500,000 contracts to three firms-the Radio Corporation of America, Lockheed, and Glenn L. Martin-for a one-year satellite design

competition under the code name "Pied Piper.""

Although by late 1955 space advocates might rejoice that at long last a military

satellite program seemed underway, a number of long-standing, troublesome issues

remained to be solved. One of the most important involved potential competition

between satellites and missiles for scarce resources. Trevor Gardner resolved to insure

that the Atlas ICBM schedule would not be compromised by satellite requirements .

Back in November 1954, he had taken his worries to von Neumann's ICBM Scientific

Advisory Group. The members asked General Schriever to assess the challenge of

developing simultaneously satellites, Intermediate-Range Ballistic Missiles (IRBMs),

and the "high priority" ICBM programs . Meanwhile, in January 1955 von Neumann's

group, in an attempt to ease pressure on the ICBM program and accelerate satellite

development, recommended that satellite work be confined to the spacecraft and its

likely components rather than include booster elements, too. ARDC commander

General Thomas S. Power agreed that satellite development not involve booster

integration for the present. Nevertheless, the ICBM Scientific Advisory Group

continued to worry about potential satellite competition with the ICBM schedule

and addressed the issue again in June 1955 . It cautioned that conflict could not be

avoided because of satellite dependence on components developed through the

ICBM program." e

General Schriever's analysis of the missile program convinced him that only

centralized management of all military satellite and missile programs could minirnize the problem of competition for scarce resources and avoid schedule delays .

During his investigation, Schriever relied on the advice of Simon Ramo of RamoWooldridge, the Western Development Division's technical consulting firm . Dr.

Ramo met with von Neumann's Scientific Advisory Group and the Air Staff's

Lieutenant General Donald Putt, Deputy Chief of Staff for Development to warn

that the satellite program competed with the ICBM program for the same personnel

and launch capabilities . Ramo strongly advised relocating management of the

37
By the fall of 1955, with work on the satellite underway at the Western Development Division, General Power agreed to the management transfer, although not until

February 1956 would the actual move begin from Wright- Patterson Air Force Base

to the suburban Los Angeles facility. That the reassignment took nearly a year and a

half to complete from the time Trevor Gardner raised the alarm suggests the reluctance of those concerned. General Schriever, in particular, would have preferred to

focus on the ICBM program and not deal with IRBM and satellite competitors, while

ARDC understandably preferred to keep the development program at its primary

research facility in Ohio. In the long run, centralized management under the

Western Development Division seemed the best alternative . At least Schriever's

team could provide better management of risk and program scheduling with its

"concurrency" approach to systems development and streamlined administrative

procedures with higher headquarters . At the same time, satellite development could

be expected to benefit from transfer out from under a research facility largely

devoted to aeronautics to a "space"-oriented command located in the heart of the

missile and satellite environment .

During the course of their deliberations on the ICBM program, Air Force planners and consultants had ample justification for concern over the attention their

program would receive from the administration . Not only did they face the challenge of managing their burgeoning satellite and missile programs with limited

resources, a new competitor for funds and development priority emerged in the

summer of 1955 . For over a year, the government had been considering sponsoring

a scientific earth satellite to be launched during the International Geophysical Year

(IGY), which was scheduled to extend from July 1957 to December 1958 . Trevor

Gardner and his fellowAir Force advisors kept a wary eye on these discussions of

proceeding with an additional satellite program, which certainly contributed to

their own concerns about satellite-missile relationships . In July 1955, once the administration formally agreed to sponsor a civilian satellite development program,

this potentially high-profile competitor threatened to interfere with Air Force

efforts to focus sufficient Defense Department attention and funding on both

ICBMs and the Advanced Reconnaissance System.

The Administration Commits to the First Civilian Satellite

The decision to support a civilian satellite program reflected a genuine interest in

promoting science, strong advocacy from certain elements in the scientific community, and the administration's national security concerns-especially the challenge

of eliminating the possibility of a surprise nuclear attack on the nation. For most of

Eisenhower's advisors, the civilian scientific satellite never represented solely an

altruistic, international scientific venture .

38
interest the work on the country's strategic missile program undertaken by Trevor

Gardner and the civilian scientists serving on the Scientific Advisory Committee

in the While House Office of Defense Mobilization . In late March he called to the

White House a number of prominent scientists, including committee chairman Lee

A. DuBridge, president of Cal Tech, and requested their help on the problem of

surprise attack . They responded in August by establishing a Technological Capabilities Panel (TCP), chaired by James Killian, president of the Massachusetts Institute

of Technology (MIT) . After five months of deliberations, in February 1955 it issued

a momentous report titled, "Meeting the Threat of Surprise Attack.""

The Kill ian Panel projected changes in the relative posture of American and

Soviet strategic forces . Confirming the vital need for pre-hostilities strategic intelligence on Soviet military capabilities, the panel supported development of the

Lockheed U-2 high-altitude reconnaissance plane, the solid-fueled Polaris sealaunched ballistic missile, and more rapid construction of the Distant Early Warning (DEW) line across northern Canada. The report advocated an accelerated ICBM

program, and rapid development of IRBMs as a stopgap security measure until the

ICBM force became operational . The President in September 1955 endorsed their

findings together with those of von Neumann's Strategic Missiles Evaluation Committee and assigned to the Atlas and Thor and Jupiter programs the highest possible

priority. To the initial consternation of Gardner and Schriever, in December

President Eisenhower declared the IRBM programs to be coequal with the ICBM. -"

As for satellites, the Killian report responded to the growing satellite interest in

the scientific community and the panel's strategic intelligence concerns by recommending immediate development of a small scientific satellite that would establish

the precedent of "freedom of space" for military satellites to follow. Although

government officials and Rand analysts had worried about satellite overflight in

international law earlier, here, for the first time, advocates identified the requirement for a "civilian" satellite to establish the overflight precedent. Focused on

Project Aquatone, the U-2 project that promised immediate results, the military

satellite program received little interest or support from Killian and his experts .

At that time, he considered the Air Force's reconnaissance satellite a "peripheral

project ." This attitude from one so influential helps explain the less than enthusiastic administration support of the Air Force's Advanced Reconnaissance Satellite in

the two years preceding Sputnik. Despite the growing need for strategic intelligence

and awareness that the U-2 represented a temporary solution, Killian declined to

actively support the military satellite until after the launch of the first Sputnik . He

believed an American scientific satellite had to precede the launch of a military

vehicle to provide the overflight precedent for military satellites to operate with

minimum international criticism .''

39
analogous to that ofthe high seas, whereby flight in space would be available to all

without legal restriction . At the same time, the President attemptedto redefine the

legal regime already established for airspace when, on 21 July 1955 at the Geneva

summit conference, he called on the Sovietleaders to join him in providing "facilities

for aerial photography to the other country" and mutually monitored reconnaissance overflights . Although the Soviets rejected his offer, he continued to advocate

his "Open Skies" doctrine, while moving forward to assure the nation of sufficient

intelligence to avert surprise attack . The emerging Eisenhower policy on space

seemed to accord nicely with the scientists' proposal for launching an experimental

scientific satellite during the International Geophysical Year."

Interest in experimental satellite research originated from several sources .

Although the satellite studies done by the Navy in 1945 and Rand in 1946 focused

more on scientific than military characteristics, only in 1948 did the larger scientific

community become aware of this research when portions of the Rand analyses

appeared in the so-called "Grimminger Report" in the October issue of the Journal

of Applied Physics. The report generated widespread interest among various small

national rocket societies as well as upper atmosphere research scientists who increasingly worried about continuing their work once the wartime stock of captured

V-a rockets had been used. Another interested group involved space enthusiasts

who found a wider audience at proceedings like the Second Congress of the

International Astronautical Federation and the First Symposium on Space Flight

held in the fall of 1951 . By the early 195os a number of activists offered specific

satellite proposals, too. Dr. Fred Singer, University of Maryland physicist, and

members of the British Interplanetary Society, for example, proposed the launching

of a "Mouse" (Minimum Orbital Unmanned Satellite, Earth) which attracted attention on both sides of the Atlantic. More important for subsequent developments,

Wernher von Braun, the chief of the Army's Guided Missile Development Division

at the Redstone Arsenal in Huntsville, Alabama, had mounted a campaign in and

outside military circles for an experimental satellite using the Army's Redstone

rocket as a first-stage booster . He also offered visions of a manned future space

station in a series of articles in Collier's magazine, which attracted considerable

attention. Eventually, interest in von Braun's proposals led the military services

to offer their own satellite projects for the International Geophysical Year.

15

Growing support for launching a scientific satellite led a group of prominent

scientists in 1954 to discuss the idea with leading government and congressional

leaders . In August of that year, Congress authorized IGY participation by the United

States and proposed 81o million to support the American satellite entry. In early

1955, the various scientific satellite proposals arrived at the office of the Assistant

Secretary of Defense for Research and Development, Donald Quarles. These

40
program and the Army's Project Orbiter . Quarles referred all the IGY proposals to

his Advisory Group on Special Capabilities for review and recommendations. In

early May, the director of the U-2 project, Richard M. Bissell, Jr., met with the

director of the Central Intelligence Agency, Alan Dulles, and the director of the

National Science Foundation, Alan Waterman, to decide how the scientific satellite

initiative could best meet the Killian Report's "freedom of space" objective . Acting

on their advice, on 20 May Quarles submitted a draft space policy to the National

Security Council for review . The decisions reached at the NSC's 26 May 1955

meeting, issued in the form of NSC Directive 5520, rank among the most important

of the early Eisenhower presidency for space policy. Affirming Quarles' recommendations, the NSC declared that an IGY satellite must not interfere with the "high

priority" ICBM and IRBM programs then underway, and that the satellite launched

for "peaceful purposes" should help establish the "freedom of space" principle and

the corresponding right of unimpeded overflight in outer space. The NSC also

agreed that the scientific satellites would serve as precursors of later, military

satellites . Finally, the NSC showed itself fully aware of the prestige and psychological

benefits likely to accrue to the first nation to launch a satellite into orbit. As Nelson

Rockefeller, Eisenhower's Special Assistant for Foreign Affairs, noted in a forceful

appendix to the directive, "The stake of prestige that is involved makes this a race

that we cannot afford to lose.""

During the post-Sputnik hysteria, in late 1957, the administration publicly

attempted to distinguish between its so-called peaceful satellite project and that

of the military-oriented Soviet counterpart by emphasizing the separation of the

civilian scientific satellite project from the country's long-range missile program

Yet, the deliberations of the National Security Council clearly show that separation

of the satellite and missile program hardly occurred as part of an internationalist,

altruistic policy of promoting "pure science." The administration's declaratory

policy of"peaceful purposes" purposely obscured its real intentions. When the

President publicly announced on 29 July America's participation in the International Geophysical Year effort, he pledged that this scientific venture would remain

unconnected to the current military missile development programs . The National

Science Foundation would direct the project, with the National Committee for the

IGY responsible for the satellite. The Defense Department would furnish the rocket

booster and provide logistic and technical support . He gave no hint of the underlying purpose of his emerging space policy for the civilian and military satellite

projects then underway. The civilian satellite would serve as a stalking horse to

establish the precedent of"freedom of space" for the military satellite, but the

administration maintained great secrecy on the latter so that attention would

remain focused on the former.-"

41
Defense Department favored a joint service-IGY effort to avoid interservice rivalry,

but only the Army's Ordnance Department and the Office of Naval Research could

agree to cooperate . Led by the Redstone team of Major General John B. Medaris and

von Braun, Project Orbiter envisioned launching a small inert satellite "slug" using a

Jupiter IRBM booster with three Loki upper-stage solid-fueled rockets . While the

Army developed the booster , the Navy assumed responsibility for satellite, tracking

facilities, and data analysis The Project Orbiter team had vigorously lobbied the

Defense Department for their project since early 1955 . The Naval Research Laboratory, on the other hand, countered in late spring with Project Vanguard, which

specified adapting a Viking sounding rocket as booster for three new upper stages .

The Vanguard project included an impressive Minitrack radio-tracking and

telemetry system, which would support the scientific focus of the IGY proposals"

The Air Force initially had declined to participate in the IGY competition because

it might conflict with its long-range goal of developing heavier, military reconnaissance satellites . However, after Quarles had directed all three services to offer

proposals, the Air Force in July submitted its own "World Series" project-an Atlas

C booster and a modified Aerobee-Hi space probe rocket. Faced with the dilemma

ofselecting from among the three rival entries, Quarles appointed an Advisory

Group on Special Capabilities in May 1955 under the chairmanship of Homer J.

Stewart of JPL. Following a contentious assessment process, the Stewart Committee

ultimately selected the Navy's Vanguard proposal, and the Secretary of Defense

confirmed this decision on 9 September 1955, just over a month after the White

House publicly committed the nation to launching a satellite during the IGY. Although the Air Force entry showed great promise, committee members realized use

of the Atlas as booster could conflict with the ICBM schedule . The Army cried foul,

claiming that the Vanguard selection represented a major development effort, while

von Braun asserted that his Redstone rocket team could launch an 18-pound payload as soon as January 1957, and well under the Vanguard's budget . 51

Critics of the Vanguard decision argued that the Committee's concern that its

choice not "materially delay other major Defense programs" tilted the balance

against Project Orbiter'"' Perhaps so, but the selection issue proved more complex.

While the criterion served to rule out the Air Force Atlas ICBM booster, Orbiter's

Redstone did not cause similar consternation . Chrysler Corporation was about to

begin production of the missile, and the Huntsville group did not receive the Jupiter

IRBM assignment until well after the end of the IGY satellite selection process . Von

Braun's Redstone team was available . In fact, the non-interference criterion ranked

only sixth among nine criteria used by the Stewart Committee. The Committee

clearly questioned Orbiter's reliability and its limited potential for future scientific

space exploration, and found attractive Vanguard's "maximum scientific utility"

42
choice reflected efforts to combine the best scientific applications with a launch

system that could not avoid military connections in any case ."

By the fall of1955 the administration was supporting two satellite programs,

WS-117L and the civilian Project Vanguard . Nevertheless, the Air Force's experience

following the decision suggests that the door remained open for a possible militaryoriented alternative regardless of the desire to maintain a civilian focus. Problems

experienced by Project Vanguard most likely account for the Defense Department's

extended review of an alternative Air Force proposal for a scientific satellite .

The Air Force Reconsiders a "Civilian" Satellite

For well over a year following the Vanguard award, the Air Force became involved

with alternative "civilian" satellite proposals while challenged to develop an operational military satellite . The process reveals ambivalent attitudes about accepting a

civilian project that threatened to compete for resources not only with the military

satellite but the ICBM program as well. Throughout the course of events, Air Force

planners seem to have operated without full knowledge of the ground rules, that

had effectively eliminated a "military" project from the start, and the degree of

seriousness the Defense Department attached to their proposals."

From the start of their involvement in the IGY competition, Air Force planners

worried that any Air Force scientific satellite that used an Atlas could interfere directly

with the Atlas weapon ICBM schedule, while the competition's ground rules did not

seem to exclude military criteria . Although ARDC might have thought the subject

closed when the Stewart Committee selected Vanguard in August 1955, on 31 August

Air Force headquarters directed ARDC to prepare another proposal that would

integrate a scientific satellite with the WS-117L military reconnaissance satellite

program. Then, on 14 October, with the new proposal still unfinished, ARDC halted

that work, explaining it lacked sufficient funding and, in any case, the decision had

been made in Vanguard's favor. In another reversal, the command resumed planning

for a scientific satellite on 1 November, and the Western Development Division on

14 January 1956 submitted a scientific satellite variant of WS- 117L, a 35oo-pound

satellite made from ARS components that could be launched by August 1958 atop

an Atlas C at a cost of $95.5 million . General Schriever's proposal also specified a

number ofscientific experiments dealing with atmospheric density, solar radiation,

and the upper atmosphere-near space effects on communications . The Schriever

proposal reflected a consistent Air Force view that any satellite should serve a

specific scientific or military purpose rather than merely serve as a public demonstration of the capability oflaunching a satellite into orbit ."

Most importantly, General Schriever advised that the scientific satellite could be

developed without "significant compromise" to the military satellite program43
warned that any small delay in the Atlas schedule might mean a satellite launch

beyond the IGY "window of opportunity." The general's caveats notwithstanding,

ARDC forwarded the proposal to the Air Staff in January 1956 . After a number of

briefings on the subject, the proposal languished at Air Force headquarters in

Washington throughout the remainder of 1956 . Then, in early 1957, the Air Force

notified General Schriever that the Defense Department had decided not to submit

it to the Stewart Committee, which continued to oversee Project Vanguard . Evidently, by 1957 the Committee had decided to forego the luxury of a "back-up"

satellite for Vanguard .14

General Schriever always maintained that his command could have handled

development ofboth missiles and satellites . Yet the Western Development Division,

which was redesignated the Air Force Ballistic Missile Division on i June 1957,

would have required considerable additional resources from a parsimonious

Defense Department to support three major long-range missile programs as well

as two satellite projects . As for the civilian satellite planning effort during late 1955

and throughout 1956, Schriever and his staff affirmed that it did not significantly

interfere with planning or funding for the military satellite . Once again, the socalled "non-military" criterion for an IGY satellite did not seem important enough

to rule out lengthy consideration of the most "military" of satellite proposals . If

concern for possible delays in the sensitive Atlas ICBM program again proved

decisive, the story of the Air Force scientific satellite proposal also suggests that Air

Force leaders felt compelled to remain involved in a potential program of questionable value. In view of the Air Force's aspirations to dominate the space mission, it

could not remain uninvolved.'

Retrenchment on the Eve of Sputnik

While some Air Force planners labored on proposals for a civilian variant of the

WS-117L reconnaissance satellite, work continued on the technical requirements for

the military satellite . Following the program's transfer to the Western Development

Division in early 1956, General Schriever appointed as project officer Colonel Otto J.

Glasser, who directed preparation of a full-scale system development plan based on

the winning design entry submitted from the three "Pied Piper" firms. By April the

plan had been completed and approved by General Schriever and ARDC commander General Power. In June 1956, the Air Force selected the design from Lockheed's

Missile Systems Division and awarded the firm a formal contract in October. The

Lockheed choice surprised no one because the company had hired the majority of

existing space research specialists, including former Rand analyst James Lipp ."

Relying on the Atlas C booster, Lockheed proposed building a huge second-stage

booster satellite, initially termed Hustler, that could provide high pointing accuracy

44
Air Force payloads . Lockheed's winning payload entry also included a unique

feature proposed by engineer Joseph J . Knopow for an infrared radiometer and

telescope capable of detecting missiles and aircraft from their hot exhaust "signatures ." Offering the potential for "real time" data, the infrared system element of

the Advanced Reconnaissance System would emerge as a separate missile launch

detection alarm system (MIDAS) satellite project designed to provide early warning

of missile launches . The Air Force plan predicted an initial orbit date of May 1959,

with the complete system, including ground installations, expected to be operational in the summer of 1963 .'

The advance of technology in 1956 and 1957 served to emphasize the Lockheed

proposal's merits. Research on wider and slower reentry vehicles with ablative surfaces offered a solution to the old problem ofaerodynamic heating when objects

reenter the atmosphere and fostered renewed interest in retrievable reconnaissance

systems. Recoverable film containers held the prospect of avoiding image degradation that might occur through TV sensing and transmission through the atmosphere . Atthe same time, current experiments with panoramic cameras with longfocal-length lenses offered both broad-area coverage and high ground resolution."

Research in new technology promised to be costly, and funding for WS-117L had

been a sensitive subject from the start . From General Schriever's perspective, the

Advanced Reconnaissance System suffered from guilt by association with the troubled

Vanguard project . Although neither satellite program received adequate support,

Vanguard's prioritystatus brought it the lion's share ofsatellite monies . When the

civilian satellite experienced management and budgeting problems, the military

reconnaissance satellite also encountered difficulties receiving the attention and

funding its supporters believed it deserved .

The scientists themselves were largely to blame for Vanguard's problems . Their

interest in maximizing the scientific output not only led to additional costly

instrumented experiments which Eisenhower criticized as "gold plating," but served

to make secondary the essential requirement to establish basic vehicle technology

before adding sophisticated payload experiments. The scientists also wanted to increase the number of test launches from six to twelve, which drove up costs and

contributed to schedule delays that poor management practices only exacerbated . 61

In fact, Vanguard had been underfunded from the beginning . Even before the

Stewart Committee selected Vanguard, Secretary Quarles indicated his skepticism

about the initial Vanguard budget figure of $1o million by raising the satellite

budget to $20 million. Even so, the Vanguard budget rose continually from an initial

$28.8 million in September 1955 to $no million by May 1957 . Had the Vanguard

team payed attention to the early Rand studies, they might have developed a more

realistic budget. Nine years earlier, James Lipp proposed a similar satellite at a cost

45
p

international prestige associated with the country first into space. Instead, the

scientists focused on costly experiments that played havoc with the development

schedule. As for the experiments, Vanguard scientists did not clarify for President

Eisenhower the important contributions their satellite work offered for ICBM

development . Had the scientists done so, they might have been able to convince

the administration to elevate satellite priorities in the name ofmissile progress .

Ike, after all, listened to "his" scientists . A higher priority for Project Vanguard

might correspondingly have benefited the military satellite and ICBM programs ."'

Without strong intervention from the scientists, Project Vanguard's managers

proved unable to stifle the concerns of an administration that was becoming

increasingly exasperated with the spiraling costs . What made matters worse, the

administration faced a larger problem brought on by the enormous costs and

excessive duplication associated with building two ICBMs and three ICBMs simultaneously. With all five missiles in development in fiscal years 1957 and 1958, the budget for guided missiles reached more than $1 .3 billion, an enormous increase from

$515 million in fiscal year 1956, $161 million in fiscal year 1955, and only $14 million

in fiscal year 1954 . In 1957 Eisenhower feared that the spiraling missile costs would

force defense spending beyond his fiscal year 1958 ceiling of $38 billion and directed

a budget review of all programs . By August Secretary of Defense Wilson had cut the

research and development budget by $170 million, reduced overtime work in the

Atlas program, accorded Titan a lower priority than Atlas, cut spending on the

Navy's Polaris project, and called a temporary halt to Jupiter and Thor production."

The WS- n7L satellite program did not prove immune to the budget slasher. Air

Force satellite program officers had hoped to obtain $39.1 million ofthe estimated

$114.7 research and development budget for use in fiscal year 1957 . In August 1956,

however, ARDC received only $3 million to launch the project. On 17 November

1956, General Putt briefed Donald Quarles on the newly approved WS-117L program. If he expected to obtain additional funding from the Secretary, he was disappointed. Secretary Quarles directed the Air Staff's research and development chief

to ensure that the Air Force halt its military construction schedule and produce no

fabrication mock-up or initial satellite without his express permission.'z General

Schriever felt compelled to vigorously lobby the Air Staff and the Defense Department for an additional sio million:

I can recall pounding the halls of the Pentagon in 1957, [he said later,]

trying to get sio million approved for our [USAF] space program . We

finally got the sio million, but it was spelled out that it would be just

for component development. No system whatever."

Even so, in July 1957 Secretary Quarles applied additional spending limits to the

WS-117L as part of the Defense Department-wide budget slashing exercise that

46
end of the year. Quarles' actions should be viewed in terms of the administration's

agenda for military satellites and space operations. The previous year, administration spokesmen had declared that no government officials were to speak publicly

about spaceflight . General Schriever found to his dismay that the administration

meant business after a February 1957 speech he gave in San Diego, California . Discussing the importance of studying potential military offensive functions in space,

he declared the time ripe for the Air Force to "move forward rapidly into space."

The following day Secretary of Defense Wilson instructed him to avoid the word

"space" in all future speeches ."

The administration remained determined that the military satellite would under

no circumstances precede the civilian satellite into space. It also opposed any discussion of military space operations that might generate a worldwide debate on the

"freedom of space" for military spaceflight . This issue had to be avoided to maintain

the declaratory policy of"peaceful purposes" as well as the action policy of having

Vanguard provide the precedent for military space operations. As a result, before

Sputnik the country supported two modestly funded space programs that did not

interfere with ICBMs or other high-technology programs . Neither received the support its advocates sought. Yet neither permanently suffered from the 1957 budget

cuts, which proved little more than an embarrassment after the launching of

Sputnik on 4 October brought massive increases for satellite and missile programs .

Although not of the administration's choosing, Sputnik I established the precedent,

freedom of space, and underscored the administration's basic space policy.

Retrospective From the Threshold of Space

On the eve of the Sputnik flights, the Air Force and the nation finally had reached

the threshold of space-a full decade after the intrepid Rand analysts first offered

the Air Force the prospect of launching an observation earth satellite in five years'

time. During the course of the decade Rand produced increasingly convincing

analyses of solutions to technical problems, potential military functions, and the

important political benefits and prestige that would accrue to the United States .

Armed with the Rand studies, Air Force satellite champions repeatedly worked to

convince their leaders and the Defense Department and administration officials of

the wisdom of their cause. What they confronted, however, proved to be a decadelong pattern of disinterest, inaction, and dogmatic unwillingness to accept change.

As a result, the Soviets became the first to launch an orbiting satellite .

President Eisenhower has received considerable criticism for allowing the country

to be humiliated and its national security endangered. Yet, if the Eisenhower administration failed to launch the first satellite, Sputnik nonetheless established emerging

United States space policy. With unimpeded overflight assured, a clandestine mili47
follow-even if the pathbreaker proved to be Sputnik and not Vanguard . The

failure of the administration's actions lies not in overlooking the importance of

prestige, but in assuming that Vanguard, with all its problems, still would be first .

Determined that the civilian scientific satellite would take precedence, administration officials remained unwilling to provide the WS-117L program the commitment

its supporters desired and expected . Yet the real delay in the reconnaissance satellite

program occurred during the Truman years, when the Russians began a serious

program and the United States did not. The Soviets had an eight-year start by 1954,

when Project Feed Back set the satellite on the sure path to development .

During the Truman era, satellite proposals continually fell victim to the logic of

"realism" and higher priorities . The administration argued that national security in

the postwar world could be best achieved by strengthening the forces in being,

namely strategic bombers and subsonic cruise missiles . Budget austerity after 1946

meant that research programs for forces of the future suffered most. Problematical

programs like missiles and satellites faced the severest cuts . The administration's

argument received strong support from the scientific community. Experts like

Dr. Vannevar Bush dismissed missiles as "fanciful" because they would require a

decade of incredible expense to overcome technical problems of guidance, propulsion, and reentry. Bush was far from alone in his pessimism. After all, it would have

taken a particularly insightful individual to foresee the incredible advances over the

course of the pre-Sputnik decade in chemical fuels, rocket engine combustion technology, instrumentation, and missile frame construction ." Postwar America offered

too few men of vision like Hap Arnold and Theodore von K1rm6n in positions of

authority. And for all his achievements, von Karman led the Air Force down the

lesser, aerodynamic path ofdevelopment.

Von Karman's tenure as chief of the postwar Scientific Advisory Board suggests

that Arnold, had he continued tolead the postwarAir Force, would have achieved

only modest success against the forces ofinstitutional inertia and intransigence. The

newly independent Air Force benefited most from the Truman defense strategy

While General LeMay and others might admit that intercontinental ballistic missiles

represented the strategic force of the future, the logic of the present seemed to favor

the forces that could best ensure the survival of an independent Air Force and the

security of the nation. When those forces happened to be manned aircraft and

missiles supporting those aircraft, long-range guided missiles understandably became relegated to the distant future. Satellites suffered a similar fate . Satellites and

missiles represented "new" and potentially "revolutionary" change for a service that

traditionally viewed itself in terms of the airplane. Even in the early i95os, when it

became clear that technology had made ballistic missiles more feasible and Soviet

actions precipitated a major budget increase for research and development,

48
On the other hand, the Air Force remained ever vigilant in protecting its author

ity over satellite and missile development . If it neglected its space programs, it

nevertheless kept a wary eye on Army and Naval efforts to weaken the Air Force's

claim to exclusive rights to these programs . The fierce contest for control ofroles

and missions proved to be a running theme throughout the pre-Sputnik decade,

and clearly prevented faster progress . While the service squabble centered largely

on missiles, on the eve of Sputnik the Air Force faced a competitor for its embryonic

satellite program in the guise of Project Vanguard. Although Eisenhower's dual

space program remained unclear to many in the mid-1950s, the "civilian" Vanguard

satellite represented a future challenge for the Air Force in terms of civil-military

roles and missions .

On the eve of Sputnik, the observer ofearly space events might be tempted to

view the previous decade pessimistically as one of frustration and delay. The Air

Force experience, however, also suggests a much more positive assessment . Many

central characteristics of the future Air Force space mission emerged during the

"dawn of the space age." For one, the Air Force made a strong bid for the preeminent military role in space matters, and by 1957 had carved out a relatively strong

position with its Atlas and military satellite program. The emphasis on demonstrating military satellite utility served to intensify efforts to define and justify

satellite operations in terms of providing better data more effectively than competing systems .

As for research and development, the Arnold and von Karman legacy appeared

far more secure after the downswing in the late 1940s. Reorganization provided

research a greater focus, while General Schriever's command arrangements demonstrated impressive flexibility and effective improvisation . To be sure, it took activists

like Trevor Gardner and his band of reformers working "outside" the system to

facilitate change. Yet, in a sense, the Air Force established a tradition of going outside-to industry, scientists, research laboratories-that von Karman's Toward New

Horizons recognized and supported .

Considering both the failures and the achievements, the pre-Sputnik decade is best

viewed as the conceptual period of the "New Ocean," during which the new ideas of

space had to be tested and inertia and opposition overcome . After all, only a generation separated the upper-atmosphere explorers of the NACA and the early rocketeers

from the Atlas and WS-117L teams on the eve of Sputnik . Few are blessed with the

vision ofArnold and his disciples or the perceptiveness of the Rand analysts of 1946,

who consulted their crystal ball and guessed correctly. Even by late 1957 the path

ahead for most seemed unclear. With the nation on the threshold of space, the

challenges for the Air Force remained formidable.

49
CHAPTER 2

From Eisenhower to Kennedy:

The National Space Program and the Air Force's

Quest for the Military Space Mission, 1958-1961

T

he period from late 1957 to the spring of 1961 represents the watershed years

of the national space program and the Air Force's place within it . In the wake

ofthe Sputnik crisis, the Eisenhower administration implemented organizational and policy measures that provided the foundation ofthe nation's space program. Buffeted by pressure and counsel from an alarmed public and congressional

and military spokesmen, President Eisenhower found himself fighting a rearguard

action to hold to his view of civilian, military, and budget priorities for space

activities. His dual military and civilian space program reflected his "space for

peace" focus, one that fostered "open skies" for the free passage of future military

reconnaissance satellites . Given the sensitivity of overflying the Soviet Union, during

the formative years of his administration the civilian space program held center

stage, while administration officials consciously downplayed the military space role

and service initiatives .

Space advocates in all three military services and their supporters chafed at

the government's refusal to sanction a broadly-based military space initiative in

response to the Soviet menace. With visions ofleading the nation into the space

era, Air Force leaders found the situation especially frustrating . Relying on its

"aerospace" rationale, they initially argued that the Air Force represented the logical service to head a unified, Defense Department-oriented national space program

that would serve both military and civilian requirements . When it became clear

that national policy preferred two programs, one a civilian-led effort dependent
The challenge proved formidable. Shortly after Sputnik, concerns with interservice rivalry and duplication, among other reasons, compelled administration

officials to create the Advanced Research Projects Agency (ARPA) for all Defense

Department space research and development activities . Although the services retained their missile programs, they temporarily lost their independent space programs to the new agency. Moreover, the creation ofthe National Aeronautics and

Space Administration (NASA) in the fall of 1958 further divided the space mission

and raised thorny issues of civil-military authority that persisted well beyond

Sputnik . Despite repeated government statements to the contrary, for many, a

civilian NASA conducted "peaceful" space ventures, while the Defense Department

and the military services, by implication, engaged in warlike or non-peaceful space

activities . Air Force leaders found "space for peaceful purposes" an albatross that

prevented them from pursuing a space program they believed necessary to provide

the nation with the security it required . The latter involved not only recognized defense support functions such as satellite communications, reconnaissance, and navigation activities, but potentially offensive functions in space through space-borne

antisatellite and antimissile defense measures . The Eisenhower administration

believed otherwise, and permitted nothing more than studies of weapons in space.

Constrained by administration policy and the prerogatives of NASA and ARPA,

and without a space "mission" to call its own, the Air Force also faced stiff competition from its service counterparts. Indeed, by early 1958, the Armyand Navy had far

more experience in space than the Air Force. Their success in orbiting the nation's

first satellites (Explorer and Vanguard) seemed destined to propel one of them to

victory in the quest for future space missions. Yet, by the spring of 1961, NASA had

its sights on manned flight to the moon, ARPA had been relegated to obscurity, and

the Army and Navy had been removed from any major role in space. The Air Force

found itself effectively designated the executive agent for all military space development programs and projects . If Air Force leaders considered the victory incomplete,

it nonetheless represented an impressive achievement that established the Air Force

as the nation's primary military service for space.

Sputnik Creates a "National Crisis"

The administration's efforts prior to the Sputnik launches to downplay the American space program through a deliberately-paced civil and military research and

development effort came to an abrupt halt following the electrifying news on the

morning of 4 October 1957 that the Soviets had launched a 184-pound instrumented

satellite into orbit atop a rocket booster weighing nearly 4 tons. By contrast,

America's yet-to-be launched Vanguard weighed only 3 .5 pounds.' Sputnik I

dramatically demonstrated that the Soviets possessed both a highly advanced

5 1
tal attack . Despite warnings of the psychological shock value of satellites repeated

through various Rand studies and affirmed by the National Security Council a few

years earlier, the administration found itself unprepared for Sputnik's "Pearl

Harbor" effect on public opinion .'

President Eisenhowersought to reassure the American public and quell the press

furor at home and abroad in his first news conference held five days after the Russian

launch. On 9 October he downplayed the impact ofSputnik by declaring that, "so far

as the satellite itself is concerned, that does not raise my apprehensions, not one iota ."

People had no reason to panic, and he would not involve the country in a needless

space race or accelerate the launch schedule of the civilian Vanguard satellite . But

neitherthe President's soothing words nor unfortunate public comments belittling the

importance of the Russian effort by high-ranking administration officials proved

able to silence a growing national debate over space and defense policies . They had

a national crisis on their hands.'

At the same time, Eisenhower and his staff quickly perceived one important benefit

from the Sputnik launch. Meeting with the President the day before his post-Sputnik

press conference, Deputy Secretary ofDefense Donald Quarles observed that"the

Russians might have done us a good turn, unintentionally, in establishing the concept

of freedom of international space." Eisenhower then requested that his advisors look

five years into the future and provide an update of the Air Force's effort to develop a

reconnaissance satellite . Clearly, the President intended to continue his public focus

on civilian spaceflight and unrestricted satellite overflight to protect the viability of

future military satellite operations.4

Throughout October administration officials reevaluated the entire missile

program and discussed various courses ofaction . Then, nearly a month later, on

3 November, the Soviets successfully launched the 1,120-pound Sputnik II with its

passenger, the dog"Laika ." Although once again officials tried to calm troubled waters

by claiming that the Soviet feat came as "no surprise to the President," the administration rapidly moved to gain control of the debate and reestablish confidence and

prestige . On 7 November the President took one ofhis most important steps,

appointing Dr. James R. Killian, his close confidant and chairman of the earlier

Killian Committee, as Special Assistant to the President for Science and Technology

and Chairman of the President's Science Advisory Committee. He immediately

became the administration's "point man" for planning future space organization

and policy.'

The day after Killian's appointment, the Defense Department authorized the

Army Ballistic Missile Agency (ABMA) to proceed with preparations to launch its

scientific Explorer satellite during the IGY under Project Orbiter as backup to

Project Vanguard. Conveniently, incoming Secretary of Defense Neil McElroy had

52
the opportunity to promise a successful Jupiter launch within ninety days. When

they received official approval on 8 November, Medaris' team had been hard at

work on the Orbiter booster since 5 October. Their hard work would pay off on

31 January 1958, when Explorer 1 became the first U.S . satellite to achieve successful

orbit . Although its miniaturized electronics relayed important scientific data, including discovery of the Van Allen radiation belts surrounding the earth, its io'/2-

pound payload seemed less impressive to the American public than the far larger

and heavier, if less scientifically valuable, Sputniks .'

Secretary of Defense McElroy followed the Project Orbiter decision by announcing on 2o November his intention to create a new defense agency to control and

direct "all our effort in the satellite and space research field ." Representing the first

step in reorganizing the government for space, Secretary McElroy planned to establish the Advanced Research Projects Agency (ARPA) in early February 1958 at a level

above the three military services .'

The Air Force Seizes the Initiative

Meanwhile, the Air Force had been far from idle in the aftermath of Sputnik I. While

Army and Navy teams continued preparations for Projects Orbiter and Vanguard,

respectively, Air Force leaders in late 1957 initiated their own sweeping assessment of

the nation's space activities and prospects . Theyhoped to develop a program ofaction

with the Air Force playing the central role . Thewide-ranging post-Sputnik debate on

the national space course ahead seemed to present Air Force leaders with a golden

opportunity to claim for their service the nation's space mission.

On 21 October 1957, Secretary of the Air Force James H. Douglas convened a

committee of distinguished scientists and senior Air Force officers chaired by

Dr. Edward Teller to evaluate the nation's missile and space programs . Completed

in just two days, the Teller Report chastised the government for administrative and

management practices that, it said, prevented either civilian or armed services

agencies from achieving a stable and imaginative research and development program. It recommended a unified, closely integrated national space program-under

Air Force leadership. A centralized program, the committee argued, would provide

focus for an expanded national space program and avoid the divided effort likely to

result from a fragmented program. Although the report received attention at high

levels of the government, in the unsettled post-Sputnik period it failed to convince

government officials to adopt a unified program either under military or civilian

direction. Ultimately, the President would commit the nation to a dual program

with separate military and civilian elements!

On 7 November 1957, the Air Force's legislative liaison team, alarmed by what

seemed to be a preference among congressmen for the Army's space initiatives, de53
in 1948 by General Vandenberg, that flight in the upper atmosphere and space represent logical extensions of the traditional Air Force realm of operations and the

natural evolution of its responsibilities. The officers urged Air Force spokesmen to

"emphasize and re-emphasize the logic of this evolution until no doubt exists in the

minds of Congress or the public that the Air Force mission lies in space as the

mission of the Army is on the ground and the mission of the Navy is on the seas'

On 29 November 1957, Chief of Staff General Thomas D. White made this theme

the focus of an important address to the National Press Club. As airpower had provided the means to control operations on land and sea, so in future "whoever has

the capability to control space will likewise possess the capability to exert control of

the surface ofthe earth." For the Air Force, he said, "I want to stress that there is no

division, per se, between air and space. Air and space are an indivisible field of operations." By implication, an Air Force role in space must embrace offensive operations to provide proper national security. Publicly, Air Force leaders would seldom

admit that the atmosphere and space represented fundamentally different mediums .

In his talk, General White also addressed another basic institutional theme, affirming the service's traditional research and development focus. The Air Force still

depended, he said, on the "skills, talent, ingenuity and cooperativeness of. . . science

and industry to provide us the technological lead we need in the future." This future

would be in space. ' I

In public addresses and Congressional testimony, General White and other Air

Force spokesmen, including Under Secretary of the Air Force Malcolm A.

MacIntyre, Lieutenant General Donald Putt, Deputy Chief of Staff for Development

(DCS/D), and Major General Bernard A. Schriever, commander of the Air Force

Ballistic Missile Division (AFBMD), would focus on the concept ofspace as a continuum of the atmosphere, a place for potential military-related operations rather

than a function or mission in itself, and the logical arena for Air Force activities .

Early in the new year, Air Force leaders coined a new term, "aerospace," to describe

their service's legitimate role in space, and the following year "aerospace" officially

entered the Air Force lexicon when it appeared in the revised Air Force Manual 1-2,

United States Air Force Basic Doctrine, issued on 1 December 1959 . According to the

manual,

aerospace is an operationally indivisible medium consisting of the total

expanse beyond the earth's surface . The forces of the Air Force comprise

a family ofoperating systems-air systems, ballistic missiles, and space

vehicle systems . These are the fundamental aerospace forces of the

nation."

Along with policy and planning issues, the Air Force also addressed internal organizational concerns for space. To provide better focus for future Air Force space

54
whose long career in the "space" field included early rocket-assisted flight experiments with the von Karman team during World War II . However, having created

the new office without consulting Defense Department officials, General Putt and

other Air Force leaders were chagrined by the vehement opposition from senior

defense officials like William Holaday, newly-appointed Defense Director of Guided

Missiles, who accused the Air Force of wanting "to grab the limelight and establish a

position." This, of course, is precisely what the Air Force intended to do. When

Defense Secretary McElroy objected to the term "astronautics" and criticized the Air

Force for seeking public support, Air Force leaders realized they had overstepped

military boundaries. The firestorm of protest convinced General Putt to rescind his

memorandum three days later. Although Air Staff leaders remained committed to

strong centralized headquarters direction of space projects, they continued to face

roadblocks from administration officials ."

Unable to establish the Air Staff directorate in late 1957, the service's space supporters during the first six months of the new year followed the temporary expedient of coordinating USAF space activities through the Assistant Chief ofStaff for

Guided Missiles . Only in late July 1958, after the proposed civilian space agency

received congressional approval and the National Security Council revised space

policy, could the Air Force create a central Air Staff office for space. Even then, the

term "astronautics" could not be used, and General Boushey's new office under the

DCS/Development became the Directorate ofAdvanced Technology. Sharing space

responsibilities with the Assistant Chief of Staff for Guided Missiles, General

Boushey would have to wait another year before his office could be upgraded to

assume direction ofall headquarters space activities ."

In retrospect, given the administration's emphasis on strategic reconnaissance,

of which he was well aware, General Putt should have been sensitive to any suggestion of an expanded military role in space. Four days after Sputnik, he and Vice

Chief of Staff General Curtis E. LeMay met with Deputy Secretary of Defense

Quarles to apprise him of the state of the military reconnaissance program and

potential for satellite offensive operations. Quarles readily supported the Advanced

Reconnaissance Program, which would become the government's most important

space project. Yet, when the two officers advocated an offensive space role to

forestall potential Soviet satellite weapon carriers, Quarles in no uncertain terms

directed the Air Force not to consider satellites as weapon platforms and to entirely

eliminate satellite offensive applications from future Air Force space planning . Air

Force leaders would continue to find that the policy of "peaceful uses of outer

space" embraced the development of reconnaissance systems but never offensive

weapon systems . Weapons in space threatened the reconnaissance assets judged

vital to national security.

'4

55
a legitimate space role, yet the lack of a Defense Department response to an Air

Force-led space plan for the nation and Air Staff's rebuff suggested the need for a

more cautious strategy to achieve Air Force space objectives. In future efforts, the

Air Force would develop policy, planning, and organizational proposals as part of

a well-organized quest for the military space mission .

The Government Organizes for Space

Beginning in early 1958, the administration took action to create a national space

program. Its focus centered first on organizational measures, then embraced policy

issues . By late summer, the National SpaceAct confirmed a dual civilian-military

program designed to pursue a policy ofspace for peaceful development and exploration . Along the way, the administration and Congress considered various options in

their attempt to create the optimum civilian-military balance. Although their decisions

would prove enduring, theyleft unclear the precise relationship between military and

civilian space responsibilities .

During the first week ofthe new year, the Defense Department requested a list of

proposed space projects from each ofthe three services . Air Force leaders viewed this

request as an open door for approval of a USAF space program. It had devoted

considerable thought to the future space needs of the country ever since the first

Sputnik flight and the Teller Committee's deliberations. In early December 1957, the

Scientific Advisory Board reported on the subject ofspace technology. Pointing out

that Sputnik and Soviet ICBM capability had produced "a national emergency," the

board focused on the rocket field as the area which provided the Air Force the best

means of contributing to "a proper national response ." Its six-point program also

included an accelerated reconnaissance satellite effort and a"vigorous" spaceinitiative

with an "immediate goal of landings on the moon." Both military manned spaceflight and the WS-117L Advanced Reconnaissance System would remain centerpieces

of future Air Force space proposals, while Air Force leaders would quickly realize

that the relationship between missiles and space systems would prove the most

effective key to achieving Air Force preeminence in military space."

The result ofthe Air Force's post-Sputnik deliberations appeared on 24 January

1958, when the Air Staff submitted to the Director of Guided Missiles its "Air Force

Astronautics Development Program." It comprised five major space systems :

Ballistic Test and Related Systems, a lunar military base system, manned hypersonic

(Mach 5 and above) research, the Dyna-Soar orbital glider, and the WS-117L Satellite

System. Planners further divided the five proposals into twenty-one major projects

that embraced a variety of military missions deemed "essential to the maintenance

of our national position and prestige." The planners urged that special emphasis be

56
Ballistic Missile Division, emphasized that the Air Force possessed the means of

developing an astronautics program with no detriment to ballistic missile programs .

Much to its disappointment, the Air Staff received no reply from Mr. Holaday's

office, and Air Force efforts to lead a national space effort proved fruitless . Statements by General Putt and his deputy, General Boushey, advocating missile-firing

bases on the moon and eventually militarizing the planets alarmed rather than

reassured their audience of civilian leaders in Congress and the Defense Department. By late February, the Air Force initiative had been "overtaken by events," and

the Assistant Secretary of Defense assumed responsibility for coordinating military

inputs for a national policy on outer space. When the Secretary of Defense created

the Advanced Research Projects Agency on 7 February, frustrated Air Force officials

realized that the Defense Department's request to the services represented little

more than an effort to gain information that would assist the new Defense Department agency in assigning space development responsibilities among the Army,

Navy, and Air Force."

The comments by Generals Putt and Boushey reflected the uncertainty of the

period and the great unknowns ofspace in the aftermath ofSputnik . After the demise

of the Air Force initiative, Air Force leaders responded to the Defense Department's

attempt to coordinate a policy input for the administration by calling for more basic

knowledge to determine the potential and limitations of manned and unmanned

spaceflight before formulating a national policy covering all available and contemplated space programs. Air Force thinking in the months ahead would be characterized by an emphasis on a "building blocks" approach to space development rather

than on advancing fanciful ideas for military bases on the moon and planets from

which to attack countries on Earth."

ARPA Takes Control

ARPA began operations amid a flurry of great expectations from its admirers and

dire warnings from its detractors. Secretary of Defense McElroy declared that the

new agency would provide a "single control. . . ofour most advanced development

projects," while the services would continue with research and development of

weapon systems that clearly fell within the "missions ofany one of the military departments." ARPA, in fact, gained control over all U.S . space projects, military and

civilian, until the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) commenced operations in the fall of 1958 . For another year thereafter, the Defense

Department agency retained control, including funding, ofall military space

See Appendix z-1 .

57
objectives . For one, it ended the low military priorities heretofore accorded space

technology in the absence of clearly defined military applications. For another, it

offered the laudable prospect of avoiding interservice rivalry and wasteful duplication by transferring service decision-making power on space projects to the Defense

Department agency. 'I

The congressional committees charged with military oversight viewed with

suspicion any increase in the powers of the Secretary of Defense at the expense of

the military services . In early January 1958, General Schriever and other military

spokesmen testified against the creation of any agency with authorization to go

beyond policy formulation and program approval to perform development and

contractual responsibilities . Research and development, they argued, should be left

to the services . Secretary McElroy promised Congress that ARPA's initiative would

"be developed in coordination with the military departments to the point of operational use, so that . . . [weapon systems] . . .may be phased into the operation of one

or more of the military services with a minimum loss of time or interruption of

development and production."

The Air Force was not entirely reassured . Roy Johnson, ARPA's aggressive director,

seemed too independent of service wishes and possessed too much authority over

service space programs. Moreover, the President made ARPA responsible for civilian

space projects as well until the proposed civilian space agency became operational .

Nevertheless, until ARPA assumed control ofmost Air Force programs in late June,

Air Staff planners, perhaps guilty of wishful thinking, continued to advocate an

independent Air Force space program. As the historian of the Air Research and

Development Command pointed out, the "classic and foreboding example of things

to come. . . proved to be the reconnaissance satellite program, perhaps the most

important single Air Force space program to light upon ARPA." Initially the Air

Force applauded ARPA's focus on accelerating the WS-117L program on "the highest

national priority basis ." In response to Sputnik, by September 1958 ARPA had

reprogrammed the Advanced Reconnaissance System into separate component

projects with revised designations. The reconnaissance element received the name,

Sentry, while MIDAS referred to the infrared sensing system . Under the designation

"Discoverer," a cover for the covert CORONA project, ARPA grouped "vehicle tests,

biomedical flights, and recovery experiments ." In the fall of 1958, ARPA assigned all

three projects to different Air Force organizations .

Operating on a project basis, ARPA direction signaled the end of"concurrency,"

the centralized systems management practice that had proven so successful in the

crash ICBM program. In October 1958 ARPA also terminated the Weapon System

(WS) designation altogether, declaring that the "system approach employed by the

Air Force would be altered in such a way that all other items of the former 117L

58
contributed to the administration

s low-profile approach to military space activities .

The other Air Force space programs received similar treatment from ARPA

following their transfer in late spring ." The Defense Department agency organized

its newly-acquired space activities into four broad programs: Military Reconnaissance Satellites, Missile Defense Against ICBM, Advanced Research for Scientific

Purposes, and Developments for Application to Space Technology. Although ARPA

redistributed most programs back to the Air Force and the other services, it did so

under contract, thereby retaining technical and fiscal control and receiving credit

for "its" programs. The Air Staff might set requirements, but ARPA made the

decisions, directed the efforts, and dealt directly with other agencies and with

private industry.

Air Force leaders also found ARPA's operating procedures highly unsettling. In

late March Johnson informed the service secretaries that he intended to "cut red

tape" and deal directly with subordinate agencies like the ARDC, AFBMD and other

space and missile centers, bypassing established chains of command. At the Air

Research and Development Command, for example, ARPA personnel frequently

approached individuals and offices directly, which led ARDC commander Lieutenant General Samuel E. Anderson to establish a "focal point" to coordinate ARPAARDC activities . Even so, the "focal point" officer and his small staff faced considerable opposition from within the command and criticism from General Boushey's

Directorate of Advanced Technology before they succeeded in keeping all parties

informed on a consistent basis .

Yet, if the novel Defense Department agency acted high-handedly and pursued

management practices that alarmed the services, the intrusion ofARPA could have

been far more disruptive. In fact, dire warnings that ARPA might evolve into a

"fourth service" proved false . Roy Johnson, much to the dismay of his staff, proved

unwilling either to create and operate his own facilities and laboratories or to

establish an in-house contracting capability with the armed services functioning as

ARPA's contracting agents . In fact, for its expanded space program, ARPA remained

dependent on the services for qualified personnel, necessary experience, and resources that included laboratories, launch complexes, rocket boosters, test facilities,

and tracking networks. As a result, ARPA designated the military services its executive agents for most projects, with the Air Force receiving the lion's share of eighty

percent . Along with the former Advanced Reconnaissance System, these represented

the Air Force's most cherished space programs, including lunar probes, the 1 .5

million-pound rocket booster, and a variety of measures designed to launch a

See Appendix 2-2.

59
development responsibility for military manned spaceflight . Although the Air Force

remained unhappy with its subordination to ARPA on space matters, Air Force

leaders quickly realized that cooperation with ARPA would prove the best means

of gaining development responsibility for space projects and, later, operational

responsibility as well.

ARPA's rise to prominence reflected the country's alarm following Sputnik and

the need to act rapidly to counter the Soviet advantage . As a result, ARPA became a

prime mover for a variety of space projects, some ofwhich, such as the lunar probe

program, had no direct military requirement . Specifically authorized by the

President, this effort would use available military resources, most notably the

Army's Jupiter and the Air Force's Thor IRBMs as boosters . In short, ARPA served

as the national space agency through much of 1958. Yet it remained clear from the

spring of 1958, when the President submitted his proposal for a National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), that the new civilian space agency would

directly challenge ARPA's broad jurisdiction in the space arena and become an

additional competitor for traditional Air Force space interests .

NASA Joins the Competition

Like ARPA, NASA represented an intervening space agency that challenged the Air

Force for space responsibilities and program funding. NASA's civilian focus also

raised the contentious issue of civilian-military space relationships . Despite the apparent logic in assuming that NASA would be responsible for civilian space activities

and the Defense Department would handle military interests, the demarcation line

between civilian and military space concerns often proved artificial and unattainable . On the other hand, if the Air Force found NASA an unwanted competitor for

the space mission, it quickly perceived the benefits to be gained by cooperating with

the civilian agency. For the foreseeable future, NASA would depend heavily on Air

Force assistance, while its absorption ofArmy and Navy space assets would help

propel the Air Force toward the military space mission ."

The "Sputnik crisis" produced demands by congressmen, scientists, and other

civilian leaders for a more sweeping national organizational space effort than ARPA

seemed to promise. The hearings begun in late November 1957 by Senate Majority

Leader Lyndon Johnson's Preparedness Investigating Subcommittee of the Senate

Committee on Armed Services focused on long-term space research and development requirements "from a broad national point of view." This could best be done,

the committee's final report suggested, by either improved control and administration within the Defense Department or the establishment of an independent agency.

An independent space agency for long-term research and development outside

the Defense Department gained increasing support in early 1958 from scientists

60
groups proposed organizational alternatives, the National Advisory Committee for

Aeronautics (NACA), which had considerably expanded its missile research under

Chairman Jimmy H. Doolittle and Director Hugh L. Dryden, took an increasingly

active role in the space debate." In late 1957 it convened a special committee on

space technology under MIT's D. G. Stever to examine space-age research and

development requirements and determine the best role for the NACA to play. On

14 January 1958 the committee's report proposed an interagency cooperative space

program that would involve the NACA, the Defense Department and the military

services, the National Science Foundation, and the National Academy of Sciences.

But just two days later the NACA's main committee passed a strong resolution on

spaceflight proposing that fundamental scientific research in the upper atmosphere

and space be conducted by the NACA rather than the military."

Meanwhile, in early February 1958, the congressional leadership called for the

formation of an independent civilian space agency, and, to address the "national

crisis," Congress created two important committees: a Senate Special Committee

on Space and Astronautics under Majority Leader Lyndon B . Johnson, and a House

Select Committee on Astronautics and Space Exploration chaired by Speaker JohnW

McCormack. Yet, congressional hearings on the space agency itself began only after

the administration submitted its own bill on 2 April 1958 . The administration's delay

in submitting its proposal is explained by the last ditch disarmament discussions

Eisenhower carried out in January and the deliberations over the place of the

military in the space program."

In early February, the President charged his science advisor James Killian to

proceed with specific recommendations forgovernment organization for space

activities. Recalling this early formative period, Killian admitted that he took on

the assignment with a clear idea about what should be done.

From the beginning, it has been my view that the Federal Government

had. . . only two acceptable alternatives in creating its organization for

space research, development, and operation. One was to concentrate the

entire responsibility, military and nonmilitary, in a single civilian agency.

The other was to have dual programs . . . . A possible third alternative,

that ofputting our entire space program under the management of the

Defense Department always seemed to me to have so many defects as to

be practically excluded as a solution .

"

Because ofhis concerns for national security, in which strategic reconnaissance

loomed large, Eisenhower did not share Killian's views. In fact, shortly after the new

year, he thought simply of having the military direct the entire space research and

development effort under ARPA's direction. He soon abandoned this idea because of

congressional and scientific opposition, and because of the arguments of Killian'"

61
space research and applications. During the drafting of the bill, the administration's

dilemma involved how much and what kind of military participation to authorize

rather than choosing between military and civilian alternatives .

Once the administration accepted a civilian agency based on the NACA, it solicited comments from the Defense Department. Initially, defense officials thought

little would change because of the traditionally cooperative military arrangement

with the NACA. Commenting on the draft bill prior to its submission to Congress,

Deputy Secretary of Defense Quarles reminded budget chief Maurice H. Stans that

"it is assumed the operation of the new agency would bear the same relationship to

the Defense Department in the field of space and aeronautics as the NACA now does

in the aeronautics field." As it was, Quarles objected to a number of passages in the

legislation, including one that he perceived as preventing the services from carrying

out basic scientific research that had military mission applications. This issue would

continue to cause tension long after passage of the Space Act."

The administration's bill, drafted by the NACA general counsel Paul Dembling

and sent to Congress on 2 April 1958, proposed that the nation's aeronautical and

space science activities be directed by a civilian agency "except insofar as such activities may be peculiar to or primarily associated with weapons systems or military

operations, in which case the agency may act in cooperation with, or on behalf of,

the Department of Defense ." Referred to as the "exception clause," this passage

suggested a variety ofinterpretations. Would the new agency be the prime mover in

government space activities, with the military playing a minor role? Did acting on

behalf of the Defense Department mean that NASA would undertake military

projects? Above all, as Donald Quarles suggested, did the narrowly constructed

military mission preclude the Defense Department from performing basic space

research closely related to defense missions? z6

In congressional hearings, witnesses and committee members attempted to determine precise organizational relationships and functions . Defense Department

witnesses strongly objected to the "exception clause." ARPA director Roy Johnson

also criticized any implication that the law would give NASA veto power over military activities and restrict the Defense Department to operating space systems. His

chief scientist, Herbert F. York, agreed and presented the Air Force's argument that

space is not a program to be administered by a single civilian agency, but a place of

civilian and military applications. From his reading of the bill, it seemed that the

Bureau of the Budget and NASA would be responsible for programs either entirely

civilian or jointly civilian, leaving the military with only the narrowly defined

military agenda. The problem, declared military officials, centered on space requirements that could not be precisely known in advance, but often required identifying

and refining during the course of development or research. Therefore, the Defense

62
effectively in space. The administration's bill pointedly did not provide a clear, fixed

division oflabor between the military and the new civilian agency. But as an early

House of Representatives staff paper concluded, "practically every peaceful use of

outer space appears to have a military application."" In the bill's final language,

Congress approved giving the Defense Department and NASA wide-ranging prerogatives in the space field, yet agreed that the Defense Department had authority

both to develop systems and conduct any kind of space research and development

"necessary to make effective provision for the defense of the United States ." Even

so, the gray area would remain.

To overcome the jurisdictional problem and permit basically separate activities

without expensive duplication, Congress created two coordinating bodies : a

cabinet-level National Aeronautics and Space Council (NASC) and a sub-cabinetlevel Civilian-Military Liaison Committee (CMLC). During the remainder of the

Eisenhower administration, neither would function effectively. The CMLC met often

but had insufficient authority to resolve issues, while the NASC, which possessed the

requisite decision-making capability, seldom met. The President refused to be constrained in his management of the space program ."

The establishment of NASA reflected the administration's determination to give

the space program a civilian focus through a policy of "space for peaceful purposes"

that encompassed scientific exploration as well as a less-publicized but far more

important national security element . President Eisenhower signed the National

Aeronautics and Space Act on 29 July 1958 . Along with prescribing organizational

and functional responsibilities ofthe National Aeronautics and Space Administration, the space act addressed policy in unmistakable terms. "The Congress hereby

declares that it is the policy of the United States that activities in space should be

devoted to peaceful purposes for the benefit of all mankind ." [Sec 1o2(a)] Although

the statement reflected Eisenhower's policy statements prior to Sputnik, before

inclusion in the space bill James Killian and the Presidential Scientific Advisory

Committee (PSAC) conducted a comprehensive examination of broad policy

objectives as part of their assessment of organizational requirements .

At the request of the President back in early February 1958, Killian established a

panel under the auspices ofthe PSAC to develop a national space program. Chaired

by Nobel laureate Edward Purcell, the panel's deliberations focused on nonmilitary

space programs and activities . Arguing that "even the more sober proposals . . . about

space as a future theater of war . . . do not hold up well on close examination or

appear to be achievable at an early date," the Purcell Panel strongly recommended

passive military support applications while rejecting any use of military weapons

in space. With the President's blessing, Purcell and panel member Herbert York

briefed the Cabinet and other groups within the administration, and in late March

63
stration's cautious approach to the space age. The PSAC report would provide the

basic guidelines for the military role in space. Despite strong objections from Air

Force officers in the months ahead, the administration would confine offensive

military space applications to studies only."

With military satellite launches on the horizon, Eisenhower refined national

space policy with two National Security Council directives that closely bracketed

the signing of the Space Act . In June NSC Directive 5814, "U.S . Policy on Outer

Space," advocated a "political framework which will place the uses of U.S. reconnaissance satellites in a political and psychological context most favorable to the United

States ." The NSC followed this on 18 August 1958 with a more definitive directive,

NSC 5814/1, "Preliminary U.S . Policy on Outer Space," a broad statement which

emphasized denying Soviet space superiority. Echoing the early Rand Corporation

studies on satellite feasibility, the administration would seek to achieve this objective

by "`opening up' the Soviet Bloc through improved intelligence and programs of

scientific cooperation ." This would be accomplished by the military reconnaissance

satellites, whose mission, the directive asserted, fell squarely within the "peaceful

purposes" guidelines and represented an asset of "critical importance to U.S .

national security."'° In effect, although NSC 5814/1 advocated an open, cooperative

scientific exploration program, it also established the foundation for a national

security reconnaissance space capability immune from international inspection

or control. The latter received the highest priority from an administration that saw

no contradiction in space for peace combined with space for national security.

With the 1958 Space Act, the government formally established a dual space program comprising separate civilian scientific and military applications projects. Both

were directed to "peaceful," or scientific, defensive, and nonaggressive purposes .

This accorded precisely with Eisenhower's commitment to insure unrestricted overflight in outer space of military reconnaissance satellites that the President so eagerly

awaited to replace the increasingly vulnerable U-z surveillance aircraft that violated

national sovereignty in airspace overflight .

Although the framers of the Space Act did not equate "peaceful" with civilian or

nonmilitary activities, government officials in the future often found themselves

required to explain that both NASA and the Defense Department conducted peaceful space work, one primarily engaged in space exploration and the other in various

military support activities devoted to keeping the peace. Air Force space leaders like

General Schriever repeatedly criticized this policy which many interpreted as implying that NASA engaged in "peaceful" work while the military, pursued "nonpeaceful" activities . Such inaccuracies, he believed, along with policy restrictions

limiting offensive space weapons to the drawing board, prevented the military from

providing necessary security through an expanded space program. Air Force ad64
out anything except passive military space applications."

NASA Takes Shape

With an organization in place by midsummer that provided for dual military and

civilian programs, officials turned to the complex mission and project assignments

remaining before NASA could commence operations on 1 October 1958 . Lines of

demarcation remained vague, while competition for prestige and funding promised

to be severe . The initial question centered on facilities and infrastructure . During

the congressional debate it became clear that the new agency would absorb NACA's

existing aeronautical research facilities and personnel . These included nearly 7,ooo

personnel and the Langley and Ames Aeronautical Laboratories, the Lewis Flight

Propulsion Laboratory, the High-Speed Flight Station at Edwards Air Force Base,

and the Pilotless Aircraft Research Station at Wallops Island, Virginia.

To achieve space capability quickly, NASA needed an infusion of space programs,

facilities, and funding from the military services . In the NASA raid on service assets,

the Air Force emerged the clear victor. With little objection from the Navy, NASA

received Project Vanguard's personnel and facilities, including its Minitrack satellite

tracking network, and more than 400 scientists and engineers from the Naval

Research Laboratory. Potential Army losses, however, proved far more sweeping and

contentious . Newly-appointed NASA administrator, Keith Glennan, considered the

Army space program most important for providing the agency credible space

design, engineering, and in-house resources. He initially requested transfer of Cal

Tech's contracted Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL), whose sympathetic director had

visions of turning it into the "national space laboratory," and a portion of the Army

Ballistic Missile Agency that included the von Braun team and its giant Saturn

booster project. General Medaris, however, strongly objected and waged a public

campaign to stall the process and reverse the decision. His effort produced a

compromise. The JPL would be transferred to NASA by 3 December 1958, while the

Huntsville complex would remain under the Army's jurisdiction and support NASA

on a contractual basis. Medaris might postpone but he could not prevent a transfer.

A year later the Army would lose to NASA its entire space operation at Huntsville,

which would be renamed the Marshall Space Flight Center.31

As for the Advanced Research Projects Agency and its Air Force-related programs, the Defense Department agency intended to transfer only elements of its

Advanced Research for Scientific Purposes program. In mid-August, however,

Eisenhower awarded NASA overall responsibility for human spaceflight . As a result,

ARPA relinquished all of its "man in space" projects, which NASA combined under

the designation, Project Mercury. ARPA also relinquished its special engine research

project, as well as satellite tracking and satellite communications, meteorological,

65
sion research represented largely scientific projects in early stages of research, the

loss of the manned spaceflight mission created apprehension about the future of a

military manned role in space. While $boo million for space in the fiscal year 1959

budget represented eight times the space portion before Sputnik, NASA's share

outpaced ARPA's by more than $50 million and included $117 million transferred

from ARPA. Of the latter, the Air Force gave up $58.8 million . In short order, NASA

had acquired the missions of scientific space exploration, including the moon, as

well as manned spaceflight and all civil applications satellites . To fund its new

programs, NASA received a generous budget, which raised the specter of tough

competition between civil and military sectors for space funds in future years."

On the other hand, NASA's absorption of Army and Navy space programs had

left the Air Force the front-runner for the military space mission . Air Force leaders

quickly perceived the advantage ofcooperating with the new agency and making

the service indispensable to the national space program . An essential element

involved the Air Force's dominance in available space boosters . In a 17 September

1958 memorandum, Under Secretary of the Air Force Malcolm A. MacIntyre offered

guidelines for the Secretary ofDefense to follow in his discussions with NASA over

civil and military program jurisdiction . Under Secretary MacIntyre argued for

continuing the Air Force man-in-space program in cooperation with NASA, and

reminded the defense secretary that the Air Force possessed the booster engine

capability to support manned spaceflight . Responding on 31 October 1958, ARPA

Director Roy Johnson noted that the Defense Department and NASA were following

the guidelines suggested, and the Space Council would decide jurisdiction in unclear cases . Moreover, he concluded, "the Air Force's foresight in anticipating the

requirements of both agencies for booster vehicles is to be commended . The present

outlook is that all that have been provided for will be greatly needed and well

utilized ." In the months ahead the Air Force would continue to work to gain

approval of exclusive responsibility for space booster development ."

When NASA commenced operations on 1 October 1958, a year after Sputnik

initiated the space age, its leaders recognized that it would remain in the Defense

Department's shadow for the foreseeable future. The Defense Department continued to focus on system work and big projects . The Air Force, through ARPA, not

only pursued space-related missile work on solid propulsion, launch facilities, and

test ranges, it also combined space and missile activity through projects like MIDAS,

Samos, and antisatellite identification . Its impressive list of projects involved work

on a manned orbital glider/bomber, new boosters, a variety of satellites, studies for

See Appendix z-3 .

66
planners readied for launch in January 1959 . Meanwhile, NASA focused on scientific

applications through its existing NACA laboratories, and depended on the Defense

Department and the Air Force for assistance with a variety of responsibilities . Of its

first eight space probe launches, for example, the Defense Department accepted

responsibility for the initial five, with the Air Force launching the first two Pioneer

lunar probes ."

By the end of 1958 the foundation to support American superiority in space had

been laid. Policy prescribed space activities for peaceful, that is nonaggressive,

purposes, while organizational arrangements promoted a dual effort with civilian

scientific aspects centered in NASA and military research and applications directed

by ARPA. Yet much remained unresolved, not only between the Defense Department and NASA, but within the military arena. While the Air Force continued to

face challenges with ARPA over program development and operational responsibility, a new Defense Department office appeared in late 1958 to add to the confusion .

In August, Congress passed the Defense Reorganization Act which, among other

measures to centralize and clarify defense operations, created the office of Director

for Defense Research and Engineering (DDR&E), whose chief reported directly to

the Secretary of Defense . Subsuming the old responsibilities of the Assistant

Secretary of Defense for Research and Development, the new office became the

focal point for all defense research and development activities . However, it would

be a number of months before the new agency would be able to build its staff, sort

out jurisdictional arrangements, and exercise its authority. Meanwhile, ARPA would

continue to function as the nation's centralized military space agency. Nevertheless,

the fact that the new office received explicit recognition in Public Law, while ARPA

had been established onlyby authority of the Secretary of Defense signaled the

ultimate demise of Roy Johnson's space agency. Air Force leaders hoped that the

new Defense Department office would allow the service more autonomy in the

space arena."

As NASA prepared to begin its operations on 1 October, the Air Force had clearly

left the Army and Navy behind in the quest for sole control of the military space

mission. Even so, the chief of the Air Force's Legislative Liaison Office perceptively

described an Air Staff divided on whether the service should assert itself more

directly. Some officers preferred a "wait and see" approach, because the Air Force

had received from ARPA a share of the space mission . Others argued for a more

active role given the Army's retention of its 1 .5 million-pound Saturn booster

project as well as signs the Army would be authorized to develop communication

satellites and the Navy would proceed with its navigational satellite. By the end of

the year, Air Force leaders decided that they could not stand on the sidelines and

let events take their course ."

67
precipitated a wide-ranging review of its current space posture and available courses

ofaction. In early Februarythe Deputy ChiefofStaff for Plans described the Air

Force's weaknesses in space organization, operations, and research and development

that resulted, he said, from its failure to develop a coordinated space program .

Rather than formally requesting operating responsibility for space roles and missions, the Air Force should demonstrate successful stewardship, rely on available

hardware [boosters], and establish "squatters rights ." Despite the presence of ARPA,

the Air Force should establish its own integrated space program while working to

improve relationships with both ARPA and NASA. The Air Force, he said, "must

assume the role of opportunist, aggressively taking advantage of each situation as it

arises to assure that the Air Force is always predominate [sic] in any action that has

a space connotation ." 38

The Air Force campaign focused on congressional hearings in the winter and

spring . Beginning in February 1959 Air Force spokesmen repeatedly elaborated on

the Air Force "aerospace" policy that viewed space as . . . an extension of the medium

in which we are now operating in the accomplishment of assigned roles and missions." As General White testified before the House Armed Services Committee,

"The missions that we foresee [in space] are largely an extension of the missions

that are required in the atmosphere." He went on to argue for funding and program

support in terms of three general requirements : first, to improve current forces ;

second, to develop new systems in areas with recognized military applications; and

third, to study and develop systems in areas without clear military applications but

with excellent potential for possible future military use. The Air Force's manned

space program ranked high among the latter requirements . Unlike NASA, whose

mandate encompassed manned spaceflight and exploration of the unknown in

outer space, the military would find programs without known applications particularly difficult to justify to congressional budget overseers. 39

The Air Force's campaign intensified with the convening in late March of

Senator Stewart Symington's Subcommittee on Governmental Organization for

Space Activities . Scheduled witnesses Under Secretary of the Air Force Malcolm A.

MacIntyre and Major General Bernard A. Schriever could expect a sympathetic

response to a strong Air Force argument from Senator Symington, who continued

to criticize the administration's budgetary frugality in the area of space defense .40

Aware that the Air Force witnesses appearing before Congress required wellcoordinated statements, the Air Staff's Directorate of Technology (DAT) and

Schriever's Ballistic Missile Division staff developed position papers that provided a

comprehensive assessment ofcurrent service strengths and weaknesses as well as a

strong case for an increased Air Force role in space.

68
portant NSC directive, "Preliminary Outer Space Policy."" Five of these missionsphotographic/visual reconnaissance, electronic reconnaissance, infrared reconnaissance, mapping and charting, and space environmental forecasting and observinghad received approval as Air Force General Operational Requirements (GOR) and

represented missions previously identified and analyzed by Rand. At the same time,

Air Force headquarters had underway seven important studies with industry or inhouse agencies and offices . Moreover, the analysis asserted, Lieutenant General

Roscoe C. Wilson's DCS/D had produced an important paper outlining "Priority

Listings of Military Space Missions." In every document cited by the Directorate of

Technology's officers, satellites received top billing, with Samos and MIDAS heading

the list, followed closely by a variety of manned spaceflight requirements . Despite

NASA's human spaceflight mission responsibilities, Air Force space leaders clearly

had not relinquished interest in military manned spaceflight.

The Air Staff's analysis focused on constraints that prohibited the Air Force from

implementing its aerospace "policy" ofperforming the space missions formally

identified in Air Staff documents and approved as General Operational Requirements. It noted that the Air Force retained authority for planning, budgeting, and

development only in non-space areas because NASA's responsibility embraced the

scientific space area and ARPA's the military space arena. In effect, the Air Force had

no responsibilities for a space program of its own. Echoing long-held criticism of

the Defense Department agency, the Air Staff paper faulted ARPA for its practice

of assigning system development responsibility to a service on the basis of existing

capability but without regard for "existing or likely [space] mission and support

roles." ARPA, rather, should focus on policy decisions and forego the "project

engineering" detail normally found only at the lowest Air Force operating levels . 4 z

As for NASA, the Air Staff critique noted that the Air Force, if prohibited from

pursuing its own scientific space exploration and research might very well face

dependence on the "fall-out and by-products" of the civilian, scientific agency. To

avoid this, the Air Force rather than NASA should develop programs of common

interest, such as space boosters and satellites, in order to meet the more stringent

military specifications and priorities . This would leave NASA to apply its budget to

"really scientific projects" like unmanned space probes . Ultimately, concluded the

Air Staff directorate, Air Force leaders should lobby Congress for a greater role for

the Air Force in space.

General Schriever's staff also agreed that "it is axiomatic that the Air Force has the

prime military responsibility for operating in space. Yet the means for developing

See Appendix 2-4 .

69
portion of the nations booster development program, indicating interest in taking

over guidance, control, and ground tracking communications programs, and showing signs of building up "a development, production, management and `operational'

capability which will duplicate that presently existing in the AF Ballistic Missile Program." ARPA appeared to acquiesce in NASA's objectives while continuing to pursue

its own development activities without regard to the future military operational

user. Both agencies appeared oblivious to the "systems" concept of development,

leaving the Air Force unable to establish an "integrated Air Force space program

with a logical stepwise progression towards stated goals ."

General Schriever also found his command becoming overburdened with

increased management responsibility for ARPA programs and NASA's requirements

for boosters and launch support . In a letter to the chief ofstaff on u February 1959,

the general described the critical shortage for the next eighteen months of six Atlas

boosters and limited launch pad availability at both Atlantic and Pacific Missile

Ranges. Without immediate Air Staff action, he predicted delays in either the ICBM

or booster operational schedules. The booster issue proved especially sensitive in

view of the new emphasis on using Air Force Thor IRBM and Atlas ICBM requirements as the wedge into an enlarged space arena. As Schriever's staff explained, the

close connection between missiles and space vehicles represented the best means of

achieving Air Force space objectives because "future booster development as well

as subsystem development can be initiated against bona fide ballistic missile

requirements ." The Air Staff responded by programming for additional boosters

and launchers . 14

In their testimony before the Symington Committee in late April 1959, Under

Secretary MacIntyre and General Schriever presented a strong defense ofAir Force

space projects and the case for a greater Air Force space role. General Schriever, in

particular, argued that by 1970 the Air Force's responsibilities for strategic offense

and strategic defense would be accomplished by an arsenal of space weapons

consisting of"ballistic missiles, satellites and space craft ." To help the Air Force

move forward with its space missions, he recommended that ARPA be dissolved by

30 June 1959, DDR&E assume the role ofproviding policy guidance and assigning

service operating responsibilities, and space research and development be returned

to the military services ."

The testimony of General Schriever and other Air Force spokesmen before congressional committees in the spring of 1959 proved especially effective in light of the Air

Force's growing involvement in space. They could cite an impressive array of their

"own" projects as well as important support the Air Force provided ARPA and NASA

on others.16

70
Sentry, represented the reconnaissance element . Consisting ofthe Atlas booster and

Lockheed's second-stage spacecraft vehicle Agena, Samos involved collecting

photographic and electromagnetic reconnaissance data and transmitting the

information by means of a "readout" system or actual "recovery" of data packages

by aircraft . In contrast to Project CORONA, which pursued the capsule recovery

technique, the Air Force initially had elected the "readout" method, but eventually

would attempt both methods of data retrieval . MIDAS (for Missile Defense Alarm

System) also relied on the Atlas-Agena booster satellite combination . The MIDAS

payload consisted of infrared sensors designed to detect missile exhaust plumes and

be able to provide command centers a thirty-minute warning of an ICBM attack."'

Both Samos and MIDAS projects experienced technical and management problems not uncommon to projects on the leading edge of technology For example,

civilian and military officials continually differed over technical requirements and

capabilities, funding, and operational arrangements. While the Air Force proposed

assigning operational control of Samos and MIDAS to the Strategic Air Command

(SAC) and the North American Air Defense Command (NORAD), respectively, the

Army and Navy argued for a joint command that would operate all military space

systems . Air Force officials also favored implementing a systems development

approach that would achieve desired performance goals while development and

testing proceeded. Solving problems "concurrently," they hoped, would result in

achieving early operational capability. The Office of the Secretary of Defense,

however, preferred a "fly before buy" arrangement, and focused on component

subsystem performance and capabilities . As a result, MIDAS and Samos remained

in flux with the Air Staff repeatedly defending and revising development plans,

while looking ahead to initial test flights in 1961 .

Although publicly Project Discoverer represented a third Air Force project ofthe

former WS-117L program, it actually served as a cover for the covert Project

CORONA. After President Eisenhower in February 1958 authorized a secret reconnaissance satellite as a joint CIA-ARPA-Air Force effort, it became known as Project

CORONA, an experimental activity within the WS-117L program. However, alarmed

by publicity identifying CORONA as a military reconnaissance system, administration officials in the late summer of 1958 decided to sever CORONA's public connection with WS-117L by creating two photo reconnaissance efforts . While the Air Force

pursued its Sentry/Samos project using the Atlas booster, CORONA would continue

as Project Discoverer and rely on the Thor booster. The Discoverer project embraced tests on satellite stabilization equipment, satellite internal environment,

ground support equipment, and biomedical experiments using mice and primates

and, most importantly, capsule recovery techniques. Officials had scheduled thirtytwo polar orbit launches from Vandenberg Air Force Base using the Thor-Agena

71
loss of the capsules. The remaining two failed to achieve orbit .

Despite difficulties

with the satellite systems during this early developmental phase, the Air Force could

claim that it managed or supported the nation's most important satellite programs,

and expected to be awarded greater operational responsibility in the near future.

In addition to its own Samos and MIDAS satellite projects, under ARPA's direction

the Air Force provided launch support to the Navy's Transit navigational satellite,

designed to support Polaris submarines, and the Army's Notus communications

satellite effort ." The most important, however, proved to be the growing detection,

tracking and satellite cataloguing project known as the Space Detection and Tracking System (SPADATS) . Begun hurriedly under the name Project Shepherd by ARPA

in response to Sputnik, all three services were to participate . The Air Force, under

Project Harvest Moon (later Spacetrack), would provide the Interim National Space

Surveillance and Control Center (INSSCC) data filtering and cataloguing center at

its Cambridge Research Center in Massachusetts . Early efforts brought together

radar data from MIT's Lincoln Laboratory's Millstone Hill radar at Westford, the

Stanford Research Institute in Palo Alto, California, and an ARDC test radar at

Laredo, Texas. Sensors included the new Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory's

Baker-Nunn satellite tracking cameras that it procured for tracking the IGY satellites

and available observatory telescopes . The Air Force would also devise the development plan for the future operational system .so

ARPA assigned the Navy responsibility for developing and operating its east-west

Minitrack radar fence and its data processing facility in Dahlgren, Virginia. Originally designed to support Project Vanguard, the Navy redesignated its sensor and

control operation Spasur (Space Surveillance) . The Army portion, termed Doploc,

envisioned a doppler radar network to augment Spasur and, together, feed data to

the INSSCC for cataloguing, trajectory prediction, and dissemination . ARPA and the

three services realized the system's limited capability, but agreement on funding

necessary improvements proved difficult to achieve . After the Army dropped out of

the picture, the Air Force and Navy contested for operational control of the system.

The Navy seemed to prefer operating a separate system, while the Air Force wanted

its Air Defense Command (ADC) to acquire management responsibility and NORAD

to possess operational control. By mid-1959, the controversy had reached the Joint

Chiefs of Staff, where it became embroiled in a major roles and missions contest

among the services .

As for NASA's requirements, the Air Force agreed to construct infrastructure

facilities at Patrick Air Force Base for NASA's space probes and then provide booster

support for the Pioneer lunar probes (Thor-Able) and Tiros cloud-cover satellite

(Thor-Delta/Able) . The Air Force also supported the Centaur high-energy upper

stage based on hydrogen and oxygen as fuels, which it hoped to use in support of

72
and launching services, along with considerable technical, biomedical, and personnel assistance . The issue of military manned spaceflight had always been a most

sensitive subject for Air Force space enthusiasts . Like their German counterparts,

early Air Force space pioneers looked to space as more than an arena for scientific

exploration or simply a venue in which to pursue exciting new challenges. They

considered a military man in space mission the logical extension and eventual goal

ofAir Force space operations. Not only did this objective correspond to Air Force

thinking on "aerospace," but manned spaceflight seemed the next "logical" step in

the chain of operational development from aviation medicine to space medicine .

Indeed, by the time of Sputnik, Air Force medical personnel could look back on a

wealth of aeromedical experience that put the service at the forefront of knowledge

on conditions of flight in the upper atmosphere and near space. Space presented

scientists the daunting challenge of mastering the complexity and weight problems

in a space environment ."

At the close of the Second World War, the Air Force gained the services of a

number of German scientists who had performed path-breaking medical research

for the Luftwaffe . Although most joined the growing Aeromedical Laboratory at

Wright- Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio, six received assignment as research physicians to the Air Force School of Aviation Medicine at Randolph Air Force Base near

San Antonio, Texas. In February 1949, the latter established the world's first Department of Space Medicine, under the direction ofDr. Hubertus Strughold, who had

coined the term "space medicine" at an important symposium the previous year. In

November 1951 the Randolph school held another symposium, entitled "Physics and

Medicine of the Upper Atmosphere," to avoid criticism of "Buck Rogers" projects

within the Air Force. Nevertheless, at this meeting Strughold advanced the concept

of the "aeropause," an area of "space-equivalent conditions" such as anoxia that

begins much lower, about 50,000 feet, rather than at the 6oo-mile barrier normally

cited by authorities as the boundary between the atmosphere and space. "What we

call upper atmosphere in the physical sense," Strughold said, "must be consideredin terms of biology-as space in its total form." In effect, manned ballistic or orbital

flight at the loo-mile altitude would be spaceflight. Strughold would come to be

known as the "the father of space medicine" and go on to lead the Air Force's School

of Aviation Medicine in exploring the space environment. Together with researchers

at the Wright Air Development Center (Aeromedical Laboratory) and the Aeromedical Field Laboratory at Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico, Air Force space

medicine teams from San Antonio pursued a variety ofexperiments dealing with

conditions of "zero g" or weightlessness in space, "g loads," or the effects of heavy

acceleration and deceleration primarily through the upper atmosphere rocket plane

flights and sounding rockets with animal passengers. Although the crash ICBM

73
medical research specialists had accumulated a wealth of data on conditions of

manned spaceflight and determined that the basic problems of weightless flight

could be solved ."

While Air Force medical personnel continued their quest for data on conditions

of manned spaceflight, scientists and engineers conducted research and development on space hardware systems that could eventually be powered through the

upper atmosphere into earth orbit. Manned space vehicle concepts proceeded along

two lines ofthought based on the reentry technique used. One involved ballistic

reentry using blunt-body capsules, the other aerodynamic reentry with winged

vehicles . Although Air Force planners pursued both methods of spaceflight, initial

interest centered on the winged suborbital vehicle later known as Dyna-Soar (from

dynamic soaring).

Dyna-Soar evolved from the rocket plane studies and experiments of the early

195os. By May 1955 hypersonic (Mach 5 and above) glide vehicle development had

led to three related Air Force projects: Bomi, an acronym for Bomber Missile, but

soon redesignated Robo, for Rocket Bomber; Brass Bell, a high altitude reconnaissance system; and Hywards, the actual boost-glide vehicle . Although designed for

suborbital flight, the three could be launched into low earth orbits with adequate

propulsion. After it became apparent that weapons in space would not proceed, on

3o April 1957 the Air Force merged the three programs under the name Dyna-Soar,

and considered it the manned flight successor to turbojet bombers and reconnaissance aircraft . To reflect the requirements of the Air Force's first "aerospace" vehicle,

engineers designed the Dyna-Soar as a manned, delta-wing aeronautical vehicle

capable ofbeing boosted into orbit while retaining reentry and controlled landing

maneuverability. As such it filled a variety of accepted mission functions and could be

supported bythe vast network ofexisting ground facilities .

As early as the spring of 1956, the Air Force had discussed with several industrial

firms its manned ballistic rocket research program. When the Air Force prepared

its ambitious five-year astronautics plan in the heady weeks following the launch

of Sputnik, it included projects for a manned capsule test system, manned space

stations, and ultimately a manned lunar base. Although critics scoffed at such

"fanciful" projects, ARPA director Roy Johnson did not . Shortly after his appointment in February 1958, he declared that "the Air Force has a long term development

responsibility for manned space flight." With his blessing, Air Force leaders requested ARPA funds and directed Air Research and Development Command to

prepare a development plan, called "Man-in-Space-Soonest" (MISS) . It called for a

four-phase capsule orbital process, which would first use instruments, to be

followed by primates, then a man, with the final objective of landing men on the

moon and returning them to earth.

74
Highproposal, later termed Project Adam, which called for lofting a man in a

Jupiter nose-cone capsule on a steep ballistic trajectory that would produce a

splashdown about 150 miles downrange from Cape Canaveral, Florida. Project

Adam received no support from informed critics like NASA's Hugh Dryden, who

explained that "tossing a man up in the air and letting him come back . . . is about

the same technical value as the circus stunt of shooting a young lady from a cannon." The Defense Department rejected the Army plan from the start . The Navy's

intriguing alternative, MER I (Manned Earth Reconnaissance), proposed orbiting

a cylindrical vehicle with spherical ends. After achieving orbit, the ends would

expand laterally to produce a delta-winged inflated glider. Although ARPA conducted studies on the proposal's feasibility, NASA's Project Mercury soon got

underway and relegated the Navy plan to an interesting concept too bold for its day.

Although the Air Force MISS proposal came closest to "approval," ARPA balked at

the high cost of $1.5 billion and the uncertainties surrounding the future direction

of the civilian space agency. When NASA began operations on 1 October 1958, the

Air Force had prepared seven Man-In-Space-Soonest development plans, each one

dismissed by ARPA for cost, technical, or utility concerns . Fittingly, the last one

omitted the word "soonest:" When President Eisenhower assigned NASA the human

spaceflight mission in August 1958, ARPA transferred its manned space programs

and funds to the new civilian agency. Hampered by insufficient funding, the

President's "space for peace" policy, and the inability to justify a military man in

space, the Air Force had to abandon-at least for the time being-serious plans

for a distinct and separate military man-in-space program.

NASA's assumption of the manned space mission left the Air Force with DynaSoar, a single-place vehicle, which the Air Force had protected from ARPA's grasp by

stressing its suborbital, aeronautics phase of development. Although Dyna-Soar had

received approval for development in 1958, by the spring of 1959 the Air Force still

had not identified an adequate booster to fulfill the as yet undetermined aeronautical, missile and, especially, space requirements of Dyna-Soar. An initial proposal

called for using a cluster of the yet-to-be-developed Minuteman solid-propellant

rockets, but the problem of separating the rockets as they would be expended

proved too challenging and costly. This opened the door to possible encroachment

from the Army and NASA.

The Army's Saturn appeared as a logical candidate, and Wernher von Braun

made several attempts to convince the Air Force to accept the Saturn-Dyna-Soar

combination . But the Air Force demurred, preferring to continue with its own

1,500,000 lb-thrust engine project it had underway. Given NASA's interest in Saturn,

however, the Air Force might very well lose Dyna-Soar to NASA if the civilian space

agency acquired the Army's big booster. In the spring of 1959, the Air Force contin75
support of NASA's Project Mercury.

By the spring of 1959, the Air Force's expanding role in space led Air Staff leaders

on 13 April 1959 to enhance the headquarters focus on space by providing General

Boushey's year-old Directorate of Advanced Technology the authority to coordinate within Air Force headquarters all space issues . The new arrangement eliminated the space responsibilities of the Assistant Chief of Staff for Guided Missiles

except for coordination activities involving boosters, test facilities, and range and

launch complexes . Gone at last was the divided authority within the Air Staff for

space requirements ."

The Air Force's 1959 campaign for the military space mission did not go unnoticed by the Army and Navy. They closely followed the Air Staff realignment, the

growing Air Force responsibilities for space systems, and the coordinated testimony

of its spokesmen before Congress . In fact, General Medaris seized his opportunity

before Senator Symington's committee to accuse the Air Force of a long history of

noncooperation with his Army Ballistic Missile Agency. Although General Schriever

provided a lengthy, detailed rebuttal, Medaris refused to withdraw his charges . The

dispute only served to reinforce the views of legislators already critical of

interservice rivalry."

In a move more threatening to Air Force interests, Admiral Arleigh Burke, Chief

of Naval Operations, in late April 1959, made "a bold bid for a major share" of the

space mission, by proposing to his Joint Chiefs of Staff colleagues the creation of a

joint military space agency. In effect, he advocated a unified command for space

based on the "very indivisibility of space," projected large-scale space operations in

the near future, and the interests in space of all three services . Army Chief of Staff

General Maxwell D. Taylor agreed, arguing that space activities transcended the

particular interests of any one service . But Air Force Chief of Staff General White

opposed the proposal because, he said, it violated the practice of treating space

systems on a functional basis and integrating weapons within unified commands.

He argued that space systems represent only a better means of performing existing

missions and should be assigned to the appropriate unified or specified command."

The Navy-Army initiative to gain a greater military space role by working through

the Joint Chiefs of Staff to realize a joint command compelled General Schriever in

mid-May to argue for an Air Force counter-campaign to acquire all or part of the

military space mission "as soon as possible." In a letter to Lieutenant General Roscoe

C. Wilson, DCS/D, the ARDC commander described his concerns and provided a

draft letter for either Air Force Secretary James H. Douglas or Chief of Staff General

White to forward to Secretary of Defense McElroy. His suggested letter asserted that

"since its inception" the Air Force had been operating in aerospace through the

76
important requirements for earth satellites, which represent aerospace vehicles of

the foreseeable future. Characteristically, Schriever criticized existing fragmented

satellite program management and advocated a unified, systems development approach that would "achieve the most effective deterrent posture" by coordinating

and integrating satellite systems within the broad Air Force strategic and air defense

force. Moreover, Army and Navy requirements, the general asserted, would be best

achieved by the Air Force acting as "prime operating agency ofthe military [national] satellite force .""

While the services argued over roles and missions, ARPA director Roy Johnson

stoked the fire in June by recommending a tri-service Mercury Task Force to

support NASA, while Defense Secretary McElroy requested advice from the joint

Chiefs of Staff on assigning the services operational responsibility for several

important space projects, including MIDAS and Samos. Service views reflected the

division over the unified command issue . While the Navy and Army favored a

Mercury Task Force as well as a Defense Astronautical Agency to direct and control

all military space systems, the Air Force opposed both for the reasons General White

explained earlier in response to Admiral Burke's proposals'

With no resolution of the differences by the fall of 1959, Secretary McElroy in

September made three decisions that propelled the Air Force further forward in its

quest for exclusive responsibility for military space activities . Differing with Admiral

Burke's prediction, DDR&E director Herbert York had argued that the country

could expect relatively few satellites in orbit in the foreseeable future, and thus the

nation did not need a unified space command. The Secretary of Defense agreed, and

sided with the Air Force position by declaring that "establishment of a joint military

organization with control over operational space systems does not appear desirable

at this time." He too disapproved both the proposed Defense Astronautical Agency

and Mercury Task Force. In place of the latter, he designated Air Force Major

General Donald N. Yates, Atlantic Missile Range commander, to "direct military

support" for NASA's manned space project. Most significantly for the Air Force, the

Defense Secretary assigned to it responsibility for "the development, production

and launching of space boosters" as well as payload integration. Satellite operational

responsibility, however, would continue to be assigned to the services on a case-bycase basis . Initially, the Air Force would receive Samos and MIDAS (in November)

and, in a separate action, Discoverer (in December) . The Navy acquired the Transit

navigation satellite, and the Army four Notus communications satellites . In short,

Secretary McElroy agreed with Dr. York and Air Force critics by reversing his

established policy that favored ARPA and reassigning space projects among the three

services . The Air Force received the major share. Admiral Burke's proposal for a

unified command for space would prove twenty-five years too early."

77
landmark decision on the Air Force's road to space, it nevertheless provided the Air

Force an incomplete victory over its protagonists . Pessimists pointed out that

civilian control over development of military space systems remained unchanged at

the secretarial level, and ARPA retained its authority to conduct project engineering

supervision . Moreover, the Air Force received responsibility for space boosters but

not for all space satellite systems . On the other hand, the Air Force had warded off a

joint operational agency for space and received designation as the nation's "military

space booster service"-a major objective of the spring campaign, and a further

blow to the Army's space fortunes . The Air Force now found itself poised to assume

command and control of operational space systems, while receiving operational

control of Samos, MIDAS, and Dyna-Soar-all space systems with growth potential.

On balance, in the fall of 1959, Air Force leaders could express optimism about

the space future, fully aware that much needed to be done to consolidate the

September gains. At the Air Force major commanders' conference on 1 October

1959, the audience heard that "the Army and Navy can be expected to continue their

efforts to neutralize this interim Air Force victory" by showing that missile range

and tracking facilities as well as satellite payloads deserved unified command

direction and control. Now that the Air Force had gained its first chance to issue

plans for development and operation of particular space systems, it would need to

make good use ofthis opportunity. "Future steps toward gaining the assignment of

space responsibilities will be determined. . . by the manner in which the Air Force

handles the responsibilities it has just been assigned .""

Before it discharged any of these responsibilities, however, the Air Force began

lobbying for the Army's Saturn heavy-lift booster project. As Vice Chief of Staff

General Curtis E. LeMay explained to the Secretary of the Air Force on 29 September 1959, "in view of this directive [18 September 1959] it appears that the in-house

capability ofthe Department ofthe Army for the development ofspace boosters and

systems, which is represented bythe Army Ballistic Missile Agency at Huntsville,

Alabama may now be available for transfer to the Air Force:

"° But Saturn was not

a weapon system, and NASA, with funds available and manned spaceflight on the

horizon, could make a far better case for the big booster than could the Defense

Department. Try as they did, Air Force planners could not specifically justify the

need for a 1,500,ooo-pound thrust engine . Apparently, Secretary of Defense

McElroy offered the Saturn to NASA's Director Glennan, who contacted General

Medaris. After DDR&E York publicly confirmed that the Air Force would develop

all space boosters needed by the Defense Department, integrate space payloads

and launch the combination, Medaris preferred to transfer to NASA the entire von

Braun team and missile operation, rather than have the Redstone complex and

personnel separated and parceled out to various agencies. Despite objections from

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stances to gain authority to develop military superb oosters 6'

With the President's decision underscoring NASA's claim to human spaceflight,

Air Force leaders realized that the Dyna-Soar project had become endangered. At

the end of October 1959, General Boushey, chief of the Directorate of Advanced

Technology, declared that the Saturn decision suggested that "the loss of the DynaSoar project to NASA appears imminent." He predicted such an action would

effectively remove the Air Force from super booster development and nullify the

18 September 1959 memorandum assigning the Air Force space booster responsibilities . Events proved General Boushey's pessimism misplaced . York reaffirmed the

Air Force's Dyna-Soar project and the service selected Boeing as contractor in

November 1959 . Yet Air Force leaders remained aware of the fragile state of the

project's future."

The end of the year also brought the official demise ofARPA as the central

Defense Department agency for space activities . Following the transfer of most ofits

space projects to the services in the fall, a 3o December 1959 directive from Secretary

McElroy designated ARPA as "an operating research and development agency of the

DoD under the direction and supervision of the DDR&E." In the future, ARPA

would manage only a limited number of advanced research programs. General

Schriever and other Air Force leaders rejoiced at ARPA's demise and the return of

development responsibilities to the user agencies. Yet it meant removing a high

profile centralized space management agency close to the Defense Secretary. With

the military spotlight on space now reduced, space projects faced competition from

other worthy service requirements in the battle for funding, while greater service

rivalry over space systems without clear service roles became a distinct possibility. 63

DDR&E now became the dominant Defense Department reviewing office with

far more authority over Air Force research and development proposals than ARPA

possessed . In late 1959 Lieutenant General Roscoe C. Wilson, Deputy Chief of Staff

for Development, expressed his concerns about the civilian technical influence that

resulted in considerable wasted time and effort before decisions from "on-high"

reached the Air Force. He also complained about civil-military relationships within

the Air Force community. One involved Secretary of the Air Force James H.

Douglas' initiative, in October 1959, to have all space decisions taken by the civilianled Air Force Ballistic Missile Committee in the Office of the Secretary of the Air

Force without significant Air Staff participation. Although Douglas' successor,

Dudley C. Sharp, agreed to allow prior review of space issues by the Air Staff and

increase its role in space development planning, the final decisions remained with

his Ballistic Missile Committee."

Despite these concerns, by end of the year the Air Force clearly had become

recognized as the dominant military service in space. Lacking the boosters, facilities,

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changes in late 1959 affected the "space budget," too . The Air Force benefited the

most from ARPA's loss of 8o% of its funding . While NASA succeeded in nearly

doubling its fiscal year 1961 budget from $535,6ooo,ooo to $915,ooo,ooo, Air Force

funding multiplied by nearly 120 times, from $2,200,000 to $249,700,ooo. Air Force

leaders now could argue that the service had regained control of much ofits "own"

space program. Moreover, NASA remained dependent on the Air Force for launch

boosters and range support and, Project Mercury notwithstanding, the Air Force's

Dyna-Soar manned space program continued on the drawing board. If the Air Force

had not achieved the complete victory sought by its leaders, it nonetheless seemed

well on its way to gaining management responsibility for all service requirements as

the Defense Department's executive agent for space."

The Air Force Seeks to Consolidate Its Position

As the Eisenhower administration entered its final year, the President could take

pride in the country's space program. In the spring of 1960, the number of American scientific and space probe launches totaled 24, of which 14 had achieved

successful orbit . The Soviets had succeeded only in launching three such spacecraft,

although they continued to garner world prestige from their spectacular "feat" of

hitting the moon and photographing its far side . On the international front, the

United Nations (UN) prepared to establish a permanent 24-nation Committee on

Peaceful Uses of Outer Space, ten European nations discussed formation of a joint

agency for scientific space exploration, and the administration continued its nuclear

test ban and disarmament efforts by offering the Soviets use ofAmerica's global

tracking network for its manned space experiments ."

Nevertheless, Air Force leaders continued to chafe at what they considered a

policy that produced too modest a defense-support space program and prevented

offensive space weapon system development altogether. They centered their criticism on the administration's National Security Council 18 August 1958 national

space policy, "Preliminary Policy on Outer Space." If this directive represented a

preliminary statement of policy, hopefully a more conclusive formulation ofpolicy

would provide specific recognition of military requirements. Back on 30 June 1959,

President Eisenhower had charged the National Aeronautics and Space Council to

review the preliminary policy. It took the group a full six months to prepare their

report. Approved by the NSC as Directive 5918 on 26 January 1960, the "U.S. Policy

on Outer Space" continued to emphasize a policy of civilian "peaceful" scientific

exploration and development activity. It lauded the UN's approval of the "launching

and flight of space vehicles . . . regardless ofwhat territory they passed over"-as long

as they involved the "peaceful uses of outer space." Although the directive accorded

the military mission better recognition, it restricted military space functions to

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Although the revised space policy disappointed military leaders, Eisenhower's

attempt to have the Space Act amended in early 196o provided another opportunity

to promote greater recognition of the military space role . The President believed

that the single national space program implied in the act was impractical and

undesirable . Dual civilian and military programs represented reality and should be

formally recognized. Because NASA and the Defense Department cooperated

effectively without what he considered inappropriate congressional mandates, the

National Aeronautics and Space Council and Civilian-Military Liaison Committee

should be abolished . Furthermore, he desired presidential relief from direct

program planning responsibility but, to avoid duplication, sought specific authority

to "assign responsibility for the development of each new launch vehicle, regardless

of its intended use, to either NASA or the Department of Defense .""

The President sent his proposed amendments to Congress on 14 January 196o,

where they received considerable scrutiny in hearings that winter and spring. Not

only did many legislators remain unhappy that the country seemed to trail the

Soviet Union in space progress despite administration statements to the contrary,

the fact that 196o was a presidential election year assured a lively and contentious

debate on space in the months ahead. Overton Brooks, Democrat from Louisiana

and Chairman of the House Committee on Science and Astronautics, predicted as

much in late fall of 1959 when he warned that Congress early in the new year would

"probe every facet of the [space] program." Brooks, in fact, had been trying since

the spring of 1958 to convince the administration that the country should have an

integrated space program.61

Representative Brooks and other congressional leaders convened a number of

committees to examine the President's request and review the merits of whether

the country had or should have one or two space programs under civilian and/or

military control. Since there appeared no ready solution to the issue, the Eisenhower

administration's preference of separate programs continued . As for the President's

recommendations, the House agreed to eliminate both oversight bodies, but in so

doing convinced the administration to accept a substitute, the Aeronautics and

Astronautics Coordinating Board (AACB). Cochaired by the Defense Department's

Director for Defense Research and Engineering (DDR&E) and NASA's Deputy

Administrator, the new coordinating body, unlike the CMLC, possessed the authority to make binding decisions. The Senate, however, chose not to act on the President's request until a new administration could review the issue . As a result, the

NASC and CMLC continued in law yet ceased to function, while the AACB began

operating in September 196o."

The hearings provided an opportunity for Defense Department witnesses to

lobby for a wider military role in space. At the same time, pointed questions about

81
plan" with funding milestones for research, development and exploratory space

activities in pursuit of peaceful objectives . The NASA initiative placed the Defense

Department on the defensive. The Defense Department had no such plan and, as

DDR&E Herbert York explained, it saw no reason to prepare one. Testifying on

30 March 196o before Senator John Stennis' NASA Authorization Subcommittee of

the Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences, his argument reflected the logic

of the Air Force concept for space planning and operations. Unlike NASA, he said,

the Defense Department did not view space as a mission, with spaceflight and

exploration as ends in themselves, but rather as a means for achieving better

military space applications to improve existing terrestrial military mission capabilities . "Considering the nature of our space objectives, it is not logical to formulate a

long-range military space program which is separate and distinct from the overall

defense program." The Defense Department's planning process also served the

administration's political agenda by highlighting the civilian program rather than

the military."

While DDR&E York presented a sound argument, the Defense Department's unwillingness to produce a space plan left it open to criticism from a Congress sensitive to duplication and effective development and coordination between NASA and

the Defense Department. While NASA seemed to know where it wanted its space

program to go in future, the Defense Department appeared less certain . Especially

in the field of space exploration, which demanded initial funding for programs

without definite military mission applications, the military found it difficult to

convince Congress without benefit of an effective long-range plan. For the Air

Force, this meant that its budget reflected space not as a program in itself, but as

part of traditional mission areas . The Samos reconnaissance satellite, for example,

appeared under strategic elements, while the MIDAS early warning system supported

air defense mission requirements. Even after ARPA had transferred space projects to

the Air Force, the scattering of space projects throughout the budget prevented a

strong focus for advocacy of a military space program during the budget process.

At the same time, Air Force planners encountered difficulty in development and

operational planning for space systems . While the so-called indivisibility of "aerospace" provided a conceptual approach to space that supported the service's quest for

military space missions, it did not contribute effectively to a planning process that

required consideration of space as a separate medium. Not only did space systems,

in fact, involve different technical challenges, determined by orbital dynamics in a

hard vacuum, but the lack ofbasic knowledge about many aspects of space contributed to the complexities ofthe planning process .

Nevertheless, the Defense Department's lack of a space plan per se did not mean

that the Air Force conducted no long-range space planning . Air Staff planners had

82
complemented by a Required Operational Capability (ROC) document, which

would identify the forces necessary to achieve the objectives (AFOS). Only by

September 1959 could planners agree on a ten-year plan for peacetime and wartime

operations that seemed to meet Air Force requirements without conflicting with

national policy. Yet critics claimed that the draft document treated space as a

separate "entity" in violation of the "aerospace" concept, and subsequent AFOS

drafts failed to gain approval throughout the spring . Meanwhile, Air Staff officers

working on the ROC also encountered roadblocks when they presented their

"revolutionary" developmental program. Looking ahead to an operational date of

1975, they proposed a high-profile program with major funding increases to achieve

innovations in propulsion, structural materials, and guidance, as well as "human

factors development" as part of a future military man-in-space program. The ROC

clearly treated space as a mission by calling for development of space weapons

regardless of whether earth-based aeronautical systems might provide a more

efficient and cost-effective alternative. Air Staff critics dismissed the plan as too

"utopian" and risky. Without approval of these two planning documents, the 120-

page qualitative force structure analysis that would logically follow in the form of a

Research and Development Objectives (RDO) paper, remained a "dead letter.""

Not until the fall of 196o could Air Force planners agree among themselves and

gain the necessary approval for their ROC and RDO proposals . Another nine months

would pass before the Air Force issued its first Objective Series statement depicting

long-range concepts and its vision of military space activities . By then, Air Force

leaders dealt with another administration that appeared to be far more sympathetic

to their objectives . Much of the planning dilemma resulted from the unwillingness

of General White and other Air Force leaders to issue official guidance for meeting

national space policy and engage in an Air Force-wide educational campaign on

space. The administration's "space for peace" policy tended to inhibit independent,

high-profile Air Force military initiatives, while any official Air Force statement on

space would prove of marginal value as long as space remained the preserve ofARPA

or NASA for funding, management, and overall technical direction.71

While Air Force leaders might very well ballyhoo the concept of "aerospace" in

public forums and argue that "aerospace power is peace power," current political

and organizational constraints called for a more cautious approach to Air Force

pronouncements on space. Back in July 1959 Air Staff planners initiated a formal

space policy study, which received greater attention following ARPA's demise in the

fall . By the end of the year, the Chief of Staff's "policy book" contained a number

of statements for use in the 196o congressional hearings . General White, however,

desired a comprehensive space policy statement he could issue officially. After

numerous reviewers on the Air Staff and in the Office ofthe Secretary of the Air

83
historian concluded, the chief of staff worried that "publication of an official [space]

policy statement at a time when so many facets of the space program were still

undecided would have unfavorable reverberations in Congress, the Office of the

Secretary of Defense, and the other military services .""

General White's caution was not misplaced. In early May 196o, shortly after

the Air Force had submitted its operational plans for MIDAS and Samos, Admiral

Arleigh Burke, the Chief of Naval Operations, again challenged the Air Force

position on space operations. He reaffirmed the need for a joint [unified] military

space agencybased on major technological developments of the last year and a half

that propelled several systems to the "operational threshold ." He also referred to the

substantial interservice support for NASA's Project Mercury, and the joint agencies

soon to be established for command, control, and communications functions. After

dividing along the lines of the previous summer, the Joint Chiefs of Staff forwarded

its divergent views to Secretary of Defense Thomas Gates, who had held the post

since December 1959 . On 16 June 196o, he reaffirmed the decision earlier taken by

his predecessor on 18 September 1959.'5

For a second time, the Air Force had deflected an Army-Navy challenge to its

growing military role in space. Its prudent, cautious approach to asserting its prominence in the military space picture seemed vindicated. By late summer, however, the

Air Force would lose control ofone of its largest and most important space missions.

The downing of the U-2 reconnaissance aircraft piloted by Francis Gary Powers

on 1 May 196o destroyed plans for an East-West Summit Conference and limited

reconnaissance flights exclusively to the periphery of the USSR. It also brought the

troubled Samos and MIDAS satellite programs more funding from the administration and Congress, while compelling officials to reassess the reconnaissance satellite

program at the highest government levels ."

Eisenhower's "peaceful purposes" space policy covered CIA as well as military

involvement in a reconnaissance satellite program. Back in February 1958 the President authorized the CIA to develop a reconnaissance satellite, assisted by elements

of the Air Force, after being told by his Board of Consultants on Foreign Intelligence

Activities that Samos could not meet near-term requirements, because it used film

readout and relied on the Atlas booster. While the Atlas would not be operational

for several years, by using the Thor IRBM, the CIA might have a film recovery satellite launched by the spring of1959. Using as a cover the Air Force's Discoverer project, the CIA designated its highly sensitive operation Project CORONA.

Satellites had to fill the intelligence gap created by the loss of the U-2. On 1o June

196o Eisenhower directed Secretary of Defense Gates to reassess intelligence requirements and the prospects for fulfilling them using the Air Force Samos readout

84
Research and Engineering, and Joseph V. Charyk, Under Secretary of the Air Force.

Apparently, over the summer Kistiakowski and the President's Scientific Advisory

Committee performed most ofthe work, assisted by Richard Bissell and his CIA

science advisory panel. CORONA, meanwhile, achieved its second success in fourteen attempts on ao August, recovering the first film capsule. Kistiakowsky presented the Samos findings to the President in a NSC meeting on 25 August. The

report concluded that the Samos satellites, like CORONA and the U-z, represented a

national asset . As such, the project should not be directed by a military service, but

by a civilian agency in the Defense Department. The President agreed and authorized an accelerated program directed by the Secretary of the Air Force and reporting to the Secretary of Defense."

The new program arrangements took shape quickly. On 31 August Secretary of

the Air Force Dudley Sharp created within his department the Office of Missile and

Satellite Systems under the Assistant Secretary of the Air Force, who would be

responsible for coordinating Air Force, CIA, and later Navy and National Security

Agency (NSA) intelligence reconnaissance activities . Secretary Sharp named

Brigadier General Robert E. Greer director of the Samos west coast development

field office . At the same time, the Secretary established two advisory bodies : a

Satellite Reconnaissance Advisory Group made up offour civilian technical specialists, and a Satellite Reconnaissance Advisory Council . Chaired by the Under

Secretary of the Air Force, the council included General Greer, the three Air Force

assistant secretaries, the vice chief of staff of the Air Force and two senior Air Staff

officers . Within months, the Office of Missile and Satellite Systems became the

secret National Reconnaissance Office (NRO), directed by the Under Secretary of

the Air Force, and responsible for all reconnaissance satellite projects, including

CORONA. The Samos effort disappeared from public view as surely as it did from

Air Force control.''

Although the new reconnaissance satellite offices remained within the Office of

the Secretary of the Air Force and employed serving Air Force officers, Air Force

headquarters was essentially excluded from the operations of this highly sensitive

national project . As a result, the military satellite reconnaissance program would

operate outside the Air Force area of responsibility. Moreover, when continued

funding and technical problems led to cancellation of Samos in the early ig6os, only

the equally troubled MIDAS missile early warning satellite and the Vela nuclear

detection spacecraft remained in the Air Force satellite inventory.

While the Air Force lost control of the Samos satellite program, it took action

to create The Aerospace Corporation to insure that it would have the technical

competence to meet current and future space age challenges." Although the new

systems approach had proven successful during the crash missile program, the

85
31 October 1958, it merged with Thompson Products, Inc., to become ThompsonRamo-Wooldridge (TRW), Inc ., its Space Technology Laboratory (STL) became an

"independent" subsidiary of TRW. Nevertheless, conflict-of-interest charges and

congressional scrutiny compelled General Schriever to seek an alternative based on

a nonprofit, noncompetitive arrangement .

Secretary ofthe Air Force James H. Douglas and other Air Force leaders agreed. A

special committee confirmed the nonprofit corporation approach, and in the spring

of 196o General Schriever and Under Secretary Joseph Charyk worked with an

organizing committee to form a new corporation . By 3 June they had established

The Aerospace Corporation on El Segundo Boulevard in Inglewood, California,

adjacent to the Ballistic Missile Division headquarters . At a news conference on

25 June, Chairman of the Board Roswell L. Gilpatrick declared that his organization

represented "a new approach on the part of the Air Force in the management of its

missile and space programs." By the end ofthe year, the new corporation had

acquired more than 170o employees and responsibility for twelve major Air Force

programs. Eventually, the Aerospace Corporation would provide general systems

engineering and technical direction (GSE/TD) for every missile and space program

undertaken by the Air Force.

Air Force leaders had good reason for optimism in the fall of 196o . They had

beaten back space challenges from the Navy and Army and had created the Aerospace Corporation . Despite losing control of the Samos program, the Air Force

continued to expand its space role in the Space Detection and Tracking System,

in booster development, and in development of infrastructure to support national

space policy. The Air Staff's Brigadier General Homer A. Boushey forecast in the fall

of 196o : "We can go into space with our feet firmly planted on the ground." Yet, Air

Force leaders soon threw caution to the wind. With the prospect of a new and

potentially more space-oriented administration on the horizon after the November

196o election, Air Force leaders decided to embark on a campaign to influence the

thinking ofthe new administration on space issues."

The Military Space Mission Goes to the Air Force

Senator John F. Kennedy made space an issue in the 196o presidential election

campaign. Referring to Soviet "firsts," he cautioned that "if the Soviets control space

they can control the earth, as in past centuries the nation that controlled the seas

dominated the continents. . . . We cannot run second in this vital race. To insure

peace and freedom, we must be first ." He called for an accelerated space program!"

Shortly after his narrow victory over Vice President Richard M. Nixon, Kennedy

appointed a committee to review the country's space program. Chaired by MIT's

Jerome B. Wiesner, the "Wiesner Committee" included among its nine distin86
invitation from General Schriever to chair a committee that would examine the

status of Air Force space activities . Schriever hoped that Gardner would be able to

produce a von Neumann Committee type of report that would lead to a "comprehensive, dynamic Air Force space development program" along the lines of the

crash ICBM program .12

The Wiesner Report appeared on io January 1961 . 83 It began by severely criticizing the organization and management of NASA and what it termed a "fractionated

militaryspace program." It recommended that one agency or military service be made

responsible for all military space development and cited the Air Force as the logical

choice . Already providing ninety percent ofthe support and resources for other

military agencies, the Air Force, said the report's authors, represented the nation's

"principal resource for the development and operation of future space systems,

except those of a purely scientific nature assigned by law to NASA." Their recommendations also included more emphasis on booster development, manned space

activities, and military applications in space. The Air Force could not have been

happier with the Committee's report.

Meanwhile, early in 1961 the Air Force had to confront the unwanted fruits of its

assertive late-fall campaign for a greater space role . Back in late November 196o, the

Air Staff's Deputy Director of War Plans, Brigadier General J. D. Page, prepared a

paper describing the Air Force position on space for use in briefing the new

administration's officials . The paper restated the Air Force view of "aerospace,"

stressed the importance of space applications, and described seven such projects :

Samos, MIDAS, a space-based antisatellite or missile system, a satellite inspector

known as Saint, the Space Detection and Tracking System (SPADATS), the Advent

communications satellite, and the Transit navigation satellite . Additionally, four

more projects, Discoverer, Dyna-Soar, the Aerospace Plane, and NETS, a so-called

hyper-environmental test system, were identified as "learning type" projects

designed to determine the feasibility of new technology for space. General Page's

rationale also assessed relations with NASA, suggesting that the Air Force work to

have the Space Act be amended to provide clear recognition of the military's role

in developing space systems . 8 '

The Page paper seemed at variance with General White's efforts to promote a

good relationship with the civilian space agency. In late 1959, for example, the chief

of staff had circulated a letter to the Air Staff directing the fullest possible cooperation with NASA and had continued to foster good relations between NASA and the

Air Force. General Page's paper of late 196o, however, suggested that less harmony

existed between the two organizations than publicly admitted, and a more forceful

effort might be needed to right the balance . The Page paper coincided with an

intense public and internal information campaign to express Air Force views on

87
termed the Air Force's "political offensive to bring about changes in national space

policy and law." Critics predicted an approaching contest with NASA for the

country's major role in space."

The outcry came to the attention of Congressman Overton Brooks, whose House

Committee on Science and Astronautics planned to meet in February 1961 to

examine the possible Air Force-industry "plot to undercut the space agency."

Brooks' intentions prompted General White to write the congressman a letter, in

which the Chief of Staff declared that "any action or statements by any Air Force

individual or groups which tend to create such impressions [of unhealthy competition between the service and NASA] are in direct contradiction to the established

beliefs and policies of the Air Force." General White requested Congressman Brooks

to identify the "`pressure groups within the USAF' . . . and the specific actions taken

by these groups toward `degrading the position of NASA."' Despite General White's

assurances, the chairman reiterated his concerns in a 14 February 1961 letter to NASA

director Glennan, who passed the letter on to General White. The Air Force Chief of

Staff responded by assuring Glennan he was sending his key officers to meet with

the new NASA leadership to determine how they could lay to rest the "ghost of this

alleged NASA-Air Force dissension and duplication" once and for all .

16

General White also appeared before the Brooks Committee in March to deny that

his service had a plan "to take over NASA." During the congressional hearings in

196o, he had reassured his questioners that all was well between the two agencies,

and that Air Force support to NASA had been extensive. This included providing the

space agency sixteen Atlas D boosters modified for Mercury capsules and adapters,

launch facilities at the Atlantic Missile Range Complex 14, and one-half of Hanger J

with adaptations to accommodate telemetry, communications, and data transfer

equipment . Along with normal base support and office space and equipment, Air

Force infrastructure support also encompassed guidance sites and computers used

for the Atlas, along with more than 40o Air Force military and civilian personnel.

General White specifically referred to good working relations in evaluating requirements and preparing schedules, reaching agreements to share facilities on a priority

basis, and cooperating on a demarcation of missions. As for the latter, he declared

that the Air Force had no conflict with NASA handling space exploration and

civilian uses and the Defense Department pursuing military applications. General

White did, however, suggest the need for a single point of contact for Defense

Department-NASA affairs and argued that the Air Force represented the logical

Defense Department representative .7

Nevertheless, Congressman Brooks in March 1961 called on the new president to

clarify the civilian and military roles and explain what seemed to be a tilt toward the

military by the Wiesner Committee. In reply, President Kennedy declared that,

88
assume responsibility.

In fact, the President had already agreed to a new military directive that assigned

remaining military space efforts and effectively awarded the Air Force the bulk of

the military space "mission :" Shortly after taking office, Secretary of Defense Robert

McNamara directed his staff to review the military space program in light of the

Wiesner Report's criticism of the "fractionated military space program." After

studying the issue and soliciting comments from important Defense Department

officials, the Defense Secretary decided to centralize space system development

within the Defense Department by assigning the Air Force responsibility for

"research, development, test, and engineering of Department of Defense space

development programs or projects ." Air Force enthusiasm remained tempered by

other parts of the directive which authorized each service to conduct preliminary

research and asserted that operational assignment of space systems would be done

on a project-by-project basis . Nevertheless, by effectively making the service the

executive agent for military space development projects and, thereby, the lead

military service in space, the directive represented a major step in the Air Force's

quest for the military space mission ."

On 17 March General White announced a major reorganization to better manage

the missile and space programs. Although the timing suggests that the Defense

Department directive precipitated the Air Force action, actually the reverse describes the course of events more accurately."Apparently in early January 1961,

Roswell Gilpatrick, the new Deputy Secretary of Defense, bolstered by the Wiesner

Report's findings, contacted General White and offered the Air Force major

responsibility for the military space mission if it "put its house in order." Gilpatrick

and General Schriever had discussed the fragmented state of Air Force research and

development activities when they worked together in forming the Aerospace Corporation the previous year. At that time, the main split in weapons systems responsibilities was between research and development, and procurement, the former

function being assigned to Air Research and Development Command and the latter

to Air Materiel Command. General Schriever had argued that the Air Force could

not handle the military space mission unless one Air Force command held responsibility for research and development, system testing, and acquisition of space

systems. The ARDC commander had advocated such a reorganization for a number

of years. The problem had become more urgent by 196o. While the ARDC's Ballistic

Missile Division in Los Angeles had retained research and development responsibility for space projects, its most important mission in 196o involved close coordination with Air Materiel Command's collocated Ballistic Missiles Center to activate

the new intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) force . As a result, two major,

national programs-missiles and space-competed for resources and management

89
to begin dividing the west coast space and missile functions by moving the latter to

Norton Air Force Base, California, and retaining all space responsibilities at the Los

Angeles site . Yet the ARDC commander remained convinced that the Air Force

required more sweeping organizational reform. Deputy Secretary of Defense

Gilpatrick agreed .

Following Gilpatrick's offer, General White asked Schriever to form a small task

force to prepare an acceptable plan for centralizing weapon system development and

procurement . Only Secretary of the Air Force Eugene Zuckert, Under Secretary of

the Air Force Joseph V Charyk, and Generals White and Schriever had been

informed of Gilpatrick's offer, and General White preferred to keep the knowledge

to a minimum. Although the Air Staff's Major General Howell M. Estes, Jr., Assistant Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations, chaired the small group, Schriever's chief

appointee, Colonel Otto Glasser, actually formulated the plan and briefed it to

senior officers and officials in the Air Force and to Defense Secretary McNamara.

Afterward, General White informed the Air Council ofwhat had transpired.

The centerpiece of the Air Force reorganization of the spring of 1961 involved

creation of the Air Force Systems Command (AFSC), with responsibility for all

research, development and acquisition ofaerospace and missile systems . With the

inactivation of the Air Materiel Command, a new Logistics Command was established to handle maintenance and supply only. To carry out this challenging

assignment, AFSC received four subordinate divisions : an Electronics Division, an

Aeronautical Systems Division, a Ballistic Missile Division, and a Space Systems

Division . The new arrangement reflected the separation of missile and space management functions that General Schriever had favored for the past two years. The

new Space Systems Division would be formed at the Los Angeles site from elements

of ARDC's Ballistic Missile Division and AMC's Ballistic Missiles Center. The Ballistic

Missile Division, also comprised of elements from ARDC's Ballistic Missile Division

and AMC's Ballistic Missiles Center as well as the Army Corps of Engineers' Ballistic

Missile Construction Office, would relocate to Norton Air Force Base. An additional

measure involved establishment ofan Office ofAerospace Research (OAR) on the

Air Staff for basic research elements.

The Air Force reorganization represented a fitting complement to the Defense

Department's directive assigning to the service future military space development

responsibilities . With its own house in order, space activities promised to receive the

management and research and development they would need in the years ahead.

Fittingly, General Schriever received a promotion to four-star rank and became the

first commander ofAir Force Systems Command.

The Defense Department directive awarding the military space development

mission to the Air Force could not be expected to please Army and Navy leaders .

90
Before the committee, however, Army General Lyman Lemnitzer, Chairman ofthe

Joint Chiefs of Staff, and other Army and Navy representatives denied opposing the

directive . At the same time, Deputy Defense Secretary Gilpatrick assured the

committee that centralization of space research and development would prevent

duplication and prevent "misuse of resources," while General White declared that

the Air Force would "bend over backward to meet the requirements of the Army

and Navy as prescribed by the directive ." The Chiefof Staff also stressed that the

new arrangement would improve cooperative relationships with NASA. The

committee took no action, but promised "continuing close scrutiny" of the new

directive's implementation .

Meanwhile, on 20 March 1961, three days after the public announcement of the

Air Force reorganization, Trevor Gardner submitted his committee's report to

General Schriever.v' Although General Schriever had hoped to have Gardner's report

by mid-January 1961, the former Assistant Secretary of the Air Force found it

necessary to establish two study groups to provide the managerial and technical

information needed. The report's conclusions proved alarming. The United States,

it claimed, could not overtake the Soviet Union in space achievements for another

three to five years without a major increase in the Defense Department's space

effort. The report reserved particular criticism for the Eisenhower administration's

emphasis on separate "military" and "peaceful" space programs, which had relegated the military program to a "stepchild" status with little participation in the

scientific exploration of space, which was reserved to NASA. Above all, the report

recommended that planners avoid prescribing detailed space requirements and

operational systems in favor offirst developing a firm technological basis, with the

Defense Department and NASA focusing on fundamentals or "building blocks ."

Finally, like the Wiesner Report, the Gardner Report called for military participation in a comprehensive, lunar landing program that would land and return

astronauts sometime between 1967 and 1970. The broad technological capabilities

resulting from such a major national effort, the report predicted, would provide

important "fallout" for both military and civilian space purposes.

While the Gardner Report underwent high-level review, on 12 April 1961, Soviet

cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin became the first man to orbit the earth . Motivated in part

by this Soviet space "spectacular," Secretary of Defense McNamara directed Herbert

York, DDR&E, and Secretary of the Air Force Zuckert to assess the national space

program in terms of defense interests and the Gardner Report's conclusions. The

Defense Secretary's initiative led to an intense two-week study effort that centered

on a special task force at the Space Systems Division led by Major General Joseph R.

Holzapple, Air Force Systems Command's Assistant Deputy Commander for Aerospace Systems . On 1 May 1961, in forwarding the report to Secretary McNamara,

91
Report" confirmed the conclusions reached by Trevor Gardner's committee .

Following an analysis ofmilitary space objectives and current development efforts

designed to meet them, the report focused on the large booster program as the most

pressing problem and reason for Soviet supremacy. Like the Gardner Report, the

Air Force proposal also called for a national lunar landing initiative, whose framework would provide an urgently needed comprehensive research and development

"effort ." Although the Air Force recognized that NASA would head the expedition, it

looked forward to a close, cooperative effort that would enable it to reenter the field

of superbooster research that had been a NASA preserve since it acquired the Army

rocket team in October 1959 . 92

The Air Force recommendations ultimately were incorporated into the National

Space Program announced by President Kennedy in May. Shortly after receiving the

Air Force proposal, Secretary McNamara and newly-appointed NASA Administrator

James E. Webb met to propose major initiatives and budget increases necessary "to

establish and to direct an `Integrated National Space Program."' Although the lunar

landing objective topped their list of essential projects, they also called for developing global space communications and meteorological networks and large boosters

for both civilian and military programs .

After receiving public and congressional support for an expanded space program,

President Kennedy on 25 May 1961 appeared before a joint session of Congress to

challenge the nation to overtake the Russians in space.

If we are to win the battle that is now going on around the world

between freedom and tyranny, the dramatic achievements in space . . .

should have made clear to us all . . . the impact of this adventure on the

minds of men everywhere who are attempting to make a determination

of which road they should take . . . . It is time to take larger strides-time

for a great new American enterprise-time for this nation to take a

clearly leading role in space achievements.""

Echoing the agreement between McNamara and Webb on the nation's future

course, the President listed the moon expedition as the first space goal, followed by

development of nuclear rockets [big boosters] for interplanetary space exploration,

and creation of global communication and meteorological satellite systems as soon

as possible . Congress had already raised the funding of the Defense Department's

large solid-fuel booster project from $3 to $15 million. As a result of the Kennedyproposed space program, the Air Force, as the "space booster service," would receive

$77 million to begin development of both an upper stage and a large solid-fuel

booster to compete with NASA's liquid-fueled Nova engine .94

By May of 1961 President Kennedy realized the importance to national security of

reconnaissance satellites . Although he did not alter the Eisenhower policy of"space

92
fully expected to play a central part in the ambitious space program that lay ahead

and to benefit from the technological achievements along the way.

The Air Force Rise to Military Space Preeminence

The Eisenhower administration's space policy never wavered from its central objective of permitting the launch and operation of military reconnaissance satellites .

The "spy satellites" would enable the country to guard against the President's old

nemesis of surprise attack, while reinforcing the moral high ground of"space for

peace" by providing the means to verify future arms agreements and nuclear test

ban treaties . Relying on the "Sputnik precedent," he preferred to avoid direct

confrontation with the Soviets by stressing civilian spaceflight and limiting military

operations to defense support activities . This would best insure the success of

clandestine satellite operations for the nation's defense .

Throughout the late 195os Air Force leaders often failed to appreciate the subtleties of the Eisenhower space policy. For them, the policy of "space for peaceful

purposes" served only to restrict military space activities to modest defense support

projects and no offensive initiatives beyond the study phase. As military planners,

they preferred defense preparations to combat potential enemy capabilities rather

than prepare for operating in an "outer space sanctuary." Given their focus on space

as the ultimate "high ground" and the extension of traditional Air Force operations,

Air Force leaders believed that the country should achieve space "supremacy" in

order to deny offensive space operations to the enemy. Because such activity might

jeopardize space reconnaissance assets, the Eisenhower regime categorically refused

to permit it .

Given these circumstances, the Air Force remained unable to conduct an independent space program. Prevented after Sputnik from leading a nationwide space

effort to overtake the Soviets, it found itself forced to respond to ARPA's direction,

then compete with NASA for funds and projects . Only with the demise ofARPA in

late 1959 did the Air Force regain control of its "own" space program. Even then

the future course with NASA and DDR&E seemed unclear, while key projects continued to experience growing pains. Moreover, much of the Air Force space responsibility involved supporting other agencies with booster and infrastructure

assistance . Operational direction remained the responsibility of other services and

agencies. This did not always seem to reflect the aspirations of the service that had

been assigned, in the words of General Schriever, the "prime responsibility for the

military space mission."

By the end of the Eisenhower presidency, the program had in place the five

functional areas of defense support operations that would characterize Air Force

space operations from then until the Reagan administration reopened the issue of

93
supported others who had responsibility for communications, navigational, and

meteorological satellites, while "observation of the earth" now encompassed highly

sensitive "black" systems outside the Air Force's control. Looking back on the

McNamara directive's impact on the Air Force following loss of reconnaissance

assets to the National Reconnaissance Office, Air Force Secretary Eugene Zuckert

declared, "It was like getting a franchise to run a bus line in the Sahara Desert ." Yet,

Secretary Zuckert's comment did not express pique at the service not getting what it

wanted. The March 1961 decision, he explained, was jurisdictional and provided the

Air Force all the jurisdiction it needed in the space field . How much support the

service would get remained in doubt. In effect, the Air Force received the research

and development franchise for space systems, including offensive space-based

systems, but it awaited customers and support from the Defense Department in the

course ahead."

If the Air Force did not acquire all the military space missions it desired, it had

much to celebrate in the spring of 1961 . Of its space programs, the MIDAS early

warning infrared satellite remained a high national priority, and the Air Force continued to develop its Samos reconnaissance project . At the same time, it provided

important launch and infrastructure support to the national reconnaissance effort

under Project Discoverer. By the end of June 1961, the Air Force had launched

twenty-six Discoverer satellites in support ofvarious projected space systems, and

the program had been expanded from an original thirty-five planned vehicles to

forty-four. The Air Force also played a major part in the Space Detection and

Tracking System with overall planning responsibilities and development ofits

Spacetrack network, and it moved forward with an elaborate air and missile defense

system that would provide collateral support for Spacetrack. Already, the Air Force

programmed the Thor and Atlas boosters as standard launch vehicles of the future,

with an improved Titan to follow. Boosters had been the foundation of the Air

Force dominance in space and represented the best means to perpetuate that

dominance . At the same time, despite Project Mercury, in these, the Dyna-Soar

years, the military man-in-space mission remained a viable option .

In the aftermath of Secretary McNamara's directive and President Kennedy's

lunar challenge, the Air Force could look back on the years since Sputnik with

satisfaction . Its cautious, well-orchestrated, opportunistic three-and-one-half-year

quest for the military space mission had succeeded . The losses of rival service assets

to NASA had resulted in Air Force gains, and efforts to create a unified space

command for space had been successfully thwarted . Along the way the Air Force

See Appendix 2-5 .

94
major reorganization to better handle the research and development challenges

ahead. The Air Force had staked its claim to space through the "logic of aerospace,"

and it had been accepted. Most importantly, despite the difficulties with space

program advocacy this often presented, Air Force leaders remained convinced that

space must be approached in terms of its utility for traditional operations. This

would be an important legacy for the future. In the years to come, space would

become an increasingly important medium in support of both strategic and tactical

military operations. That, in turn, would serve to institutionalize space within the

Air Force. In i96i, the Air Force had garnered the bulk of the military space "mission." The challenge now would be to strengthen its position by developing a

military space program vital to the nation's defense .
CHAPTER 3

The Air Force in the Era of Apollo:

A Dream Unfulfilled

n the spring of1961 the Air Force appeared poised to play the dominant role in the

nation's military space program and, hopefully, the national space effort for at

least the next decade. In March, Secretary ofDefense Robert McNamara desig

nated the Air Force the military service for space research and development, thereby

diminishing the prospects for disruptive interservice rivalry. In response, the Air Force

reorganized its research and development elements to provide a stronger focus on

space issues . Although the administration in Mayawarded NASA the lunar landing

mission, the Air Force fully expected the civilian agency to remain dependent on the

service for program management, keypersonnel, various launch vehicles, and ground

support . Above all, Air Force leaders continued to believe that NASA's lunar landing

agenda did not preclude its own aspirations for testing the usefulness ofmilitary

manned spaceflight . Despite the promise ofmajor advances by unmanned, artificial

earth satellites in support of operational requirements, man-in-space remained the

centerpiece ofAir Force efforts during the 196os to institutionalize space within the

traditional airplane-oriented service .

Unlike its predecessor, the Kennedy administration promised the nation an

integrated, national space program retooled to overtake the Soviet lead in space.

The Air Force interpreted the new approach as a challenge to convince government

leaders that national security requirements demanded an expanded military space

program under Air Force control. For two years, the Air Force waged an aggressive

campaign to achieve leadership ofan"independent" space program. By 1963, how-
the McNamara Defense Department's assertiveness and rigid criteria for space

program approval.

The Air Force would find itself the loser in the tug-of-war between the civilian

space agency and the Defense Department over priorities and responsibilities for

space exploration, both manned and unmanned. Although the service would continue

lobbying for an ambitious military space program, its efforts would prove fruitless .

Ultimately, it failed to gain approval to establish an operational space-based antisatellite and antimissile capability to thwart potential Soviet space dominance . It also

encountered roadblocks to develop proposals it considered important for defense

support functions . Above all, the service proved unsuccessful in retaining its man-inspace mission . From the Dyna-Soar orbital glider to the Blue Gemini space capsule to

the Manned Orbiting Laboratory, the Air Force fought hard to convince skeptical

Defense Department officials ofthe need for a militaryman-in-space role independent

ofNASA's responsibilities and capabilities . Bymid-decade success seemed assured

when President Johnson announced development of a military space research laboratory under Air Force management. But later in the ig6os, the growing financial and

emotional demands ofthe Vietnam War and the Great Society, along with public

disenchantment with space, doomed Air Force pretensions for manned spaceflight in

the competitive battle overthe defense budget.

With the advent of the Nixon administration, Air Force leaders readjusted their

priorities from space requirements to other more pressing and achievable needs.

Frustrated by failure to claim leadership of an expanded "independent" space

program and stymied in realizing its main goal of manned spaceflight, Air Force

leaders turned their attention to more traditional "flying" needs of the service .

Represented bymajor Air Force commands, priorities for tactical and strategic

weapons tookprecedence. While NASA basked in the glow ofthe historic Apollo lunar

landing, the Air Force seemed confined to a secondary role in the national space

program. Yet appearances proved deceiving, because theAir Force had quietly established a space applications satellite program that rapidly made space support routine

and important to tactical as well as strategic commanders. At the same time, the Air

Force found itself with a major voice in development ofthe Space Shuttle, the reusable space launch and manned orbital system ofthe future. Space seemed ready to

move from the arena ofresearch and development to operations.

TheAir Force Position in theSpring of 1961

With the advent of the Kennedy administration, Air Force leaders had every reason

to believe that their service would play a larger role in an expanded national space

program to achieve space leadership and thwart potential Soviet space threats to

national security. The new President clearly recognized the requirement for both

97
is for national growth:"' While affirming the Eisenhower policy of space for peaceful

purposes, he noted that his vision of an expanded national space program "included

space projects to help keep the peace and space projects to increase man's well-being

in peace.

'

His initial actions encouraged the Air Force to believe that military space

proposals would receive new emphasis in the high-profile national space program.

With the President's announcement on 25 May 1961 ofthe ambitious lunar landing

initiative, the nation received a distinct, long-range objective, the pursuit ofwhich

promised to make space big in business and government. As the responsible agency,

NASA's fiscal year 1962 budget request came to $1 .8 billion, twice the previous year's

appropriations . Administrator James E. Webb predicted that final costs for what

became known as Project Apollo would reach between $2o and $4o billion .'

At the same time, the military also benefited from the new space priorities. The

final fiscal year 1962 appropriations totaled $1 .1472 billion, nearly $350 million

higher than the previous year and only $0.7 billion less than NASA's final figure of

$1 .7968 . Moreover, every major Air Force space program, whether approaching

operational capability like Samos and Spacetrack, or still in the exploratory stage

like MIDAS and Saint, the space-borne satellite detection and inspection proposal,

received increased funding ." Beyond specific system development projects, the

Defense Department received greater funding for basic research in some areas that

had no clear military application at that time. Ofthe latter, the large solid-rocketmotor project represented an important achievement for Air Force space advocates

who, during the Eisenhower administration, had repeatedly championed development of a military superbooster and the need to conduct basic space technology

and exploratory research apart from the civilian agency.'

Indeed, the Kennedy administration's highly touted "national" and "integrated"

space program encouraged the Air Force in its quest for a greater leadership role in

space.' As Vice President and Space Council Chairman Lyndon B. Johnson asserted,

"It is national policy to maintain a viable national space program, not a separate

program for NASA and another for Defense and still another for each of several

other agencies."' Although NASA could move forward with plans for big rockets,

an operational communications satellite system, and manned orbiting spacecraft

experiments, the agency's mushrooming requirements for facilities, equipment,

bioastronautics data and personnel would encourage Air Force leaders, including

Chief of Staff General Thomas D. White, Vice Chief of Staff General Curtis E.

LeMay, and newly appointed commander ofAir Force Systems Command Lieutenant General Bernard A. Schriever, to believe that NASA's dependence on the Air Force

See Appendix 3-1.

98
With responsibility for ninety percent of the military space effort in the spring

of 1961, the dominant Air Force role in space had received acknowledgment that

March from Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara, whose directive, "Development of Space Systems," accorded the Air Force what General Schriever referred to

as "the prime responsibility for military space

.

"I Although the Army and Navy

would continue with their existing satellite projects and conduct preliminary space

research, the Air Force became responsible for nearly all future defense space

research and development, with exceptions authorized only by the Secretary of

Defense . If the Air Force did not receive sole responsibility for the military space

mission, the Defense Department directive for all intents and purposes made the Air

Force the leading military space service and effectively muted the rivalry among the

three services over space issues that had plagued the Eisenhower administration .

In response, the Air Force had reorganized internally to provide the desired focus

for leadership of the military space program. General Schriever's newly formed Air

Force Systems Command now controlled release ofnew weapon systems from

research and development to operational status, while its subordinate Space Systems

Division on the West Coast prepared to direct the service's space effort with strong

technical support from the Aerospace Corporation. The service hoped and expected

to lead a "crash" program for space similar to the high-powered ICBM effort of the

1950s. This had been General Schriever's purpose in charging Trevor Gardner's

committee in late 196o to perform a role for space similar to that of John von

Neumann's earlier Strategic Missiles Evaluation Committee for missile development .

The Gardner Committee's report of ao March 1961 advocated an ambitious Air

Force-led space program to overtake the Soviets and achieve military spaceflight

dominance. In the spring of 1961 Air Force leaders believed that the McNamara

directive and the national space agenda would provide such a mandate, and they

considered the Air Force well-organized and prepared to lead the effort .

Despite the service's new prominence, Air Force leaders realized that a campaign for

a greater Air Force role in space faced major challenges. The President's announcement of the lunar mission heightened NASA's prestige and responsibility in support

of the nation's "space for peace" policy, while its new manned spaceflight mission

threatened to eliminate the Air Force focus on a military man-in-space mission of its

own. At the same time, the Air Force confronted a Defense Department intent on

maintaining the precedent of"freedom ofspace" and, therefore, skeptical of earlier Air

Force proposals for antisatellite and antimissile space capabilities as well as military

manned space operations that might threaten it . Under its dynamic leader, Secretary

Robert S. McNamara, the Defense Department advocated an integrated national

space program in the name ofcost effectiveness and the end to wasteful duplication .

99
tion. As the military service for space, it could look forward to greater involvement

with a civilian space agency still dependent for much of its hardware, infrastructure,

and launch support on the Air Force. At the same time, a centralized space effort

might very well find the Air Force overly dependent on the civilian space agency for

scientific and technical data and hardware. Above all, it might be frozen out of

manned spaceflight activities that NASA now claimed as its own, and compelled to

rely on experience derived from NASA's near-earth orbital and lunar projects for

military applications, if any.

Air Force leaders decided on an aggressive campaign to lead an expanded military

space effort . In 1961 their "plan of action" would proceed on three discernible levels

that often overlapped. First came policy concerns . Despite the President's acknowledgment of a major military role in national space policy, service spokesmen

publicly assailed what they considered an artificial distinction between military and

civilian space activities . This resulted in a narrowly-construed "space for peace"

policy that prohibited development and deployment ofoffensive space systems that

could deny the Soviets space superiority. Air Force spokesmen often took their

argument public to convince sympathetic congressmen and a reluctant administration that only an offensive space capability and military manned spaceflight proficiency could ensure space for "peaceful purposes." On a second level, Air Force

planners moved rapidly to shed the constraints of the Eisenhower administration

and devise a formal Air Force space plan with related programming documents.

These, they hoped, would serve to crystallize Air Force institutional thinking on space

and win from the administration permission to lead an ambitious national space

effort. The third element ofthe campaign involved establishing what Secretary ofthe

Air Force Eugene M. Zuckert termed an "equal partnership" with NASA. This meant

lobbying the Defense Department for formal designation ofthe Air Force as the

executive agent for military support to NASA. WhileAir Force leaders expected to

parley their pervasive support ofNASA into a major voice in NASA's affairs, they also

solicited NASA's help to overcome a growing Defense Department tendencyto rely on

the civilian agency for militaryspace needs . The Air Force resorted to logic, cooperation, and pressure to convince NASA officials that, despite the policy ofan integrated

national space program, NASA alone could not satisfy military space requirements in

the two vital areas ofspace exploration and man-in-space. In effect, NASA might

serve as the wedge Air Force space leaders needed to maneuver Defense Department

officials into approving a larger Air Force role in space.

Over the course of the 196os, the Air Force would find itself in the middle of an

ever-evolving saga of cooperation and competition between NASA and the Defense

Department for leadership in space. In retrospect, the ambitious Air Force plan of

action might seem doomed from the outset in view of Secretary McNamara's strong

100
program, and sensitivity to Soviet manned space successes opened the door to an

aggressive Air Force campaign for an expanded space program. Not until the end of

1962 did it become clear to Air Force leaders that their efforts had proven unsuccessful and that theywould need to reassess the service's relationship with NASA and

the Defense Department.

Seizing the Initiative

The Air Force opened its campaign for a greater space role by renewing its criticism

of what it termed the "space for peace" policy.' In July 1961, newly-confirmed commander of Air Force Systems Command, General Bernard Schriever, the service's

highly respected and most outspoken space advocate, appeared before Senator John

Stennis' Senate Preparedness Investigating Subcommittee and testified that the

military space program was inadequately supported . "I think we have been inhibited

in the space business through the `space for peace' slogan," Schriever declared . "I

think that there has been too arbitrary a division made between the Department of

Defense and NASA in this area."' Coming in the wake of Soviet Yuri A. Gagarin's

historic first manned orbital flight on 12 April, Schriever found a congressional

audience receptive to charges of neglect and artificial impediments to America's

space potential . Impressed with the General's testimony, committee members

requested that he provide them a written report on the problem.

By late summer the proverbial political winds seemed increasingly favorable to

Air Force efforts to have the "space for peace" policy modified. The Soviets' second

manned space spectacular, a 17-orbit flight on 6 August by Cosmonaut Gherman S.

Titov, reaffirmed the specter of Soviet space superiority and compelled congressmen to deem the American situation "critical ." Even NASA watchdog Representative

Overton Brooks, chairman of the House Committee on Science and Astronautics,

seemed to capture the public mood when he asserted that the Soviets "obviously

now have the capability to send up manned satellites carrying bombs and other

equipment for destroying other nations .""

General Schriever's statement, which received Air Force Secretary Zuckert's

blessing, reached the Stennis committee on 11 September, soon after the Titov flight.

His report described the potential threat posed by the cosmonaut's space flight and

a Soviet space program unencumbered by its American counterpart's handicap: "an

unnecessary, self-imposed restriction-namely, the artificial division into `space for

peaceful purposes' and `space for military uses,' when in fact no technical and little

other distinction between the two exists ." The general focused on manned spaceflight by stressing the findings of a recent Air Force Scientific Advisory Board study,

which concluded that "the sense of urgency that exists across the whole front of

space projects should be injected into the manned military space program."'
space threat . Afterward, he promised to study the issue over the congressional break

in preparation for holding major hearings early in 1962 on the issue of"whether the

present division ofresponsibility between the military and NASA is proper in light of

international developments.""

Responding to congressional and public concern, Air Force leaders that fall spoke

out more openly for a stronger military space program. In an address to the American Rocket Society on 12 October 1961, General Schriever reiterated his theme of

artificial constraints on Air Force programs and the growing threat posed by Russian

rockets equally as capable ofcarrying loo-megaton warheads as oflaunching

cosmonauts." Later that month, on 26 October, Chiefof Staff General Curtis E.

LeMaydrew a parallel between airpower during the First World War and space in the

early 196os. Speaking to the American Ordnance Association in Detroit, Michigan, he

described the evolution ofearly airpower operations from peaceful, chivalric, unarmed reconnaissance flights to combat efforts designed to deny the enemy air

superiority. "I think we will be very naive," he declared, "if we don't expect and prepare

for the same trends in space."" By late fall President Kennedy and his Space Council

chairman, Vice President Johnson, publicly acknowledged the increasing Soviet space

threat and expressed interest in a greater military space role . The Vice President

cautioned against applying"arbitrary distinctions . . . between military and civilian

space efforts," while the President asserted that America could not let the Soviets

dominate space."

At the end of1961 Air Force leaders had good reason to believe their criticism ofthe

nation's military space posture foreshadowed an expansion ofthe Air Force space

role . The stage seemed set for a major congressional debate early in the new year,

while administration leaders increasingly responded to public pressure and Air Force

concerns . Even the troubled Dyna-Soar manned space glider program benefited from

the changing climate when the Defense Department in December authorized the Air

Force to eliminate the suborbital phase and proceed with an accelerated orbital flight

program using the Titan III booster in place of the Titan II . Air Force leaders fully

expected that the momentum established for an expanded space effort would lead to

major Air Force-led space initiatives .

The Soviet Union's monopolywith respect to manned spaceflight and the new

administration's commitment to a greater national space effort in 1961 also stimulated

an internal Air Force space planning and programming initiative to prepare the

service for its expected leadership role in space. Gone were the Eisenhower administration's proscriptions against publishing long-range Defense Department military

space plans, which had stemmed from considering space as supporting traditional

mission areas rather than as a distinct mission in itself. The Kennedy administration's

focus on an integrated national space program provided the Air Force the necessary

102
technological environment and help gain the Defense Department's support for Air

Force goals.

At the suggestion ofMajor General William B. Keese, theAir Staff's Director of

Development Planning, the Chief of Staff directed Keese to establish a task force

made up of Air Staff and Air Force Systems Command representatives to prepare

the plan. The group completed work on the Air Force's first formal Space Plan on

21 September 1961 . In the tradition of Theodore von Kdrmdn's post-World War 11

New Horizons study and subsequent service proposals like the Gardner Committee's report, the plan emphasized the importance ofa basic research and development focus that would establish the technical foundation for enhanced military

space operations."

The space plan called for an "aggressive military space program" focused on "a

vigorous applied research program . . . [conducted in the fields of guidance, propulsion, and sensors] . . . to insure that military potentials, when developed, will be

promptly identified and vigorously pursued . . [with operational systems] . . . to

insure the security of the Nation."" Such an initiative would support an integrated

national space program in which Air Force capabilities and facilities would support

the entire national program. Consistent with earlier views on mission application,

space capabilities would be used only when deemed the sole available recourse or

most cost-effective operational solution to support existing mission areas, which the

planners identified as reconnaissance and surveillance, defense, offense, commandcontrol, and support .''

The space plan proceeded to recommend future action in specific Air Force space

program areas." Discoverer (Project CORONA), MIDAS, Samos, and the Blue Scout

research vehicle, for example, should be continued at their present pace, while

efforts to develop weapons in orbit, the antisatellite and antimissile defensive systems, should be accelerated. Planners recommended that Saint, the satellite inspector project, be revised and enhanced to include testing of unmanned techniques for

rendezvous, inspection, docking, and "satellite neutralization," while Bambi, the spacebased anti-ballistic missile concept, be shifted from ARPAto Air Force control and

prepared for feasibility demonstrations . Authorized to develop a large heavy-lift

booster, Air Force planners advocated acquisition of an economical and reliable

military space booster capable of launching payloads of 10,000 to 50,000 pounds

into a 300- mile low earth orbit."

Military manned spaceflight requirements received special attention from the Air

Force planners. Declaring that "it is . . . imperative for the United States to determine

* See Chapter 4 for discussion of specific unmanned Air Force space programs.

103
decision-making, especially "placing man in a satellite inspection and neutralization

system," as well as reconnaissance, and in-space maintenance and repair . Planners

strongly supported an accelerated Dyna-Soar project designed to achieve manned

orbital flight and emphasized the need for a close, cooperative relationship with

NASA. The Air Force should expand and accelerate its bioastronautics program in

conjunction with NASA, they said, while the civilian agency could share its experience in earth orbital programs "in order to provide for early multi-manned testing

of military subsystems in space for duration up to two weeks." In addition, the space

plan called for increased study and research efforts to develop "a manned, maneuverable, recoverable spacecraft" and, for the first time, declared the Air Force's

strong interest in "a long-duration military test space station ." The space plan

indicated that the Air Force would continue to pursue both the aerodynamic and

ballistic methods of reentry."

After hearing a presentation on the space plan, Secretary Zuckert recommended

updating the basic plan periodically and using it to develop "detailed implementing

plans on major aspects of the program." The space plan's initial impact came at

year's end with its use in preparing the space budget presentation in early 1962. On

4 December 1961 the Vice Chief of Staff appointed Lieutenant General James L.

Ferguson, Deputy Chief of Staff for Research and Development, to develop programming documents depicting costs and schedules for use in defending the Air

Force fiscal years 1963 and 1964 space program before Congress in February 1962 .

The Ferguson group consisted of eight separate panels ofAir Staff and Air Force

Systems Command space specialists, who laid the groundwork for the most comprehensive testimony of the decade describing the Air Force's position on space."

On 19 February 1962 General Ferguson appeared before the House Armed

Services Committee and testified in favor of an expanded military space program.

Based on the September 1961 Air Force Space Plan, the Air Force space budget

recommended raising the fiscal year 1963 figure of $826 .2 million proposed by the

Office of the Secretary of Defense to $1.31 billion, and the fiscal year 1964 total from

$1 .32 billion to $1 .86 billion . General Ferguson argued that the nation must exploit

space to achieve military superiority as the best means of insuring "the peaceful use

ofspace." This meant a potential "offensive" military requirement to inspect nonU.S . satellites, perform surveillance and reconnaissance functions, and establish a

defense against potential ballistic missile attack."

Although he noted that an integrated national space program found both NASA

and the Air Force pursuing mutually supportive rather than competitive programs,

he strongly argued that :

104
routine and repetitive operations . We therefore need lowcost, 

g

reliability and, if possible, reusability in our systems . Military tasks also

may require quick reaction, positive control, and the ability to operate in

a combat environment . These factors have different implications than

those involving scientific, commercial, or prestige missions ."

As one example, he cited the importance of rendezvous in space with "noncooperative" targets that demanded techniques different from a lunar landing mission involving "cooperative" targets in specific, controlled orbits . He next proceeded

to describe eleven important areas of technology in which the Air Force worked to

exploit earlier military space applications and broaden its knowledge and capability.

In doing so, he declared against the increasingly restrictive Defense Department

guidelines for approval of space projects . "We must not be restricted," he said,"from

exploratory developments merely because a clear application is not yet evident .""

The attainment ofmanned military space operations represented the main theme

of his presentation . He argued that including man-in-space operations would

markedly improve system flexibility and the likelihood of mission success. After

describing the various functions for man in space outlined in the September 1961

space plan, he asserted that "it is for these reasons that we believe that man is

essential not only in operational space systems, but also in those programs designed

primarily to further technological capabilities in space." To answer the basic question of military man's utility in space, the Air Force advocated a program, coordinated with NASA, to develop a manned military test station in space. An orbiting

space station, he asserted, would answer the urgent question of special military

concern : "Can man effectively perform specific military combat and non-combat

functions in space?"" General Ferguson concluded his statement with a strong plea

for an expanded space program. The Air Force, he said, believed that space systems

could solve major national problems both then and in the future if military space

technology was adequately supported as proposed in the 1963 Air Force Space

Program. Moreover, "the program in future years will need to be even more vigorous and comprehensive." 16

Ferguson's testimony seemed to elicit the desired reaction from congressmen and

helped increase pressure on the administration to reassess its military space posture .

In short, the Air Force sought to force a decision on weapons in orbit and a change

in space policy on Kennedy and McNamara. The question became whether the

Eisenhower space doctrine would prevail or be overturned, as the Air Force desired.

That same month, on 23 February 1962, Secretary of Defense McNamara pleased Air

Force leaders by formally approving the accelerated Dyna-Soar proposal and informing Air Force Secretary Zuckert that he recognized the importance for national

security ofan investigation ofmilitary manned space roles . He acknowledged that

105
time the Defense Secretary appeared to agree with the Air Force position on military

manned spaceflight and the need to establish a military technological base and

operational capability even without clearly defined missions ."

Encouraged by congressional and administrative action, Air Force leaders

continued to press their advantage . In late March 1962 General LeMay spoke at

Assumption College in Worcester, Massachusetts, on the need to "develop military

space systems as quickly as possible" to avoid a Soviet technological surprise in the

1970s . Commenting on LeMay's speech, a Washington Post article compared LeMay

and other Air Force leaders of the current period with their predecessors prior to

World War II . They both possessed "supreme faith in the overwhelming need for

military aerospace power but [were] unable to demonstrate it "I' On 2 April, when

the Post's comments appeared, McNamara met with the Chief of Staff and suggested

the Air Force outline specific technological needs, increase its space allocation in the

fiscal year 1963 budget, and prepare a five-year Air Force space program to complement the effort of the Office of the Secretary of Defense already underway. The

Chief ofStaff called on General Ferguson, who responded first by reassessing the

programs he presented to Congress earlier, then adding $252.9 million to the Air

Force supplemental proposal for approved programs like Dyna-Soar, MIDAS, and

Titan III, and those in the advanced study and development stage dealing with satellite interception and missile defense . On 16 May the Chief of Staff submitted the

supplemental budget request to the Defense Department and authorized work on a

five-year space program." By the spring of 1962 Air Force leaders optimistically expected success from their efforts to champion an effective space plan and program.

Achieving a "workable" relationship with NASA represented the third element in

the Air Force campaign for a greater space role . Following President Kennedy's

announcement of the manned lunar landing project, NASA and Defense Department officials met to coordinate their requirements for mutual support and

delineate lines of responsibility in order to avoid duplication . Much of their work

centered in the Aeronautics and Astronautics Coordinating Board (AACB), which

was cochaired by Dr. Robert C. Seamans, Jr., NASA's Associate Administrator, and

Dr. Harold Brown, Director ofDefense Research and Engineering, together with its

six subordinate panels . TheAssistant Secretary ofthe Air Force chaired the Launch

Vehicle Panel and served as vice chairman of the Manned Space Flight Panel, while

senior Air Force officers and officials maintained a strong presence on every panel."

Already in the Kennedy administration the Defense Department and NASA had

established a pattern for future cooperative measures through an agreement reached

on 23 February 1961, by which both parties agreed to seek the consent ofthe other

before developing newlaunch vehicles . Discussions during the summer of1961

106
established a large launch vehicle planning group that led to adivision oflabor

concerning long-term booster requirements forboth agencies. According to several

formal agreements signed in the fall, NASA would pursue development oflarge

liquid-propellant rockets, in tandem with the Air Force's work on large solidpropellant rockets until it became clear which would better support the lunar mission .

The Air Force project initially included a proposal for a 3,000,ooo-pound thrust

motor, but eventually settled on development of two large motors, one a 156-inch

diameter segmented motor and the other a monolithic (unsegmented) zoo-inch

diameter motor. At the same time, the panel approved Air Force plans to develop a

large, standardized "workhorse" booster for potential future needs ofboth NASA and

the Defense Department. By autumn, this proposed system had become the Titan III,

a vehicle which would consist ofa basic Titan II, modified by the addition oftwo

strap-on solid rockets. The Titan III would be capable oforbiting near-earth payloads

of 5,000 to 25,000 pounds."

A second coordination effort involved facilities and resources needed to support

the lunar landing program, which NASA had already designated Project Apollo back

in the summer of1960 . Interest centered on ajoint study ofpossible launch sites

conducted by Major General Leighton I . Davis, who had succeeded Major General

Donald N. Yates as commander of the Air Force Missile Test Center and the Defense

Department's representative for coordinating range support for NASA, and NASA's

Dr. Kurt H. Debus, chief of the agency's Cape Canaveral launch operations. In July

they agreed on Cape Canaveral as the Apollo launch site, with the recommendation

that NASA purchase 8o,ooo acres on Merritt Island just north of the already overcrowded missile and space launch complex. On 24 August 1961, NASA Administrator

James E. Webb and Deputy Secretary of Defense Roswell Gilpatrick signed an

arrangement that made NASA responsible for costs associated with the lunar project

and "technical test control" of its launch operations, while designating the Air Force

range manager for the Apollo program. As agent for NASA, the Air Force would

direct facilities and land improvements subject to NASA's approval."

The Air Force expected to parley its strong supporting role into a "full partnership" with NASA. With this objective in mind, on 4 August 1961 Air Force Secretary

Zuckert formally requested the Defense Department to name the Air Force "executive agent" for NASA support. Expecting a positive response in the near future,

General Schriever received permission to begin discussions with the agency's

Associate Administrator Seamans to develop the necessary organizational and

procedural requirements for Air Force Systems Command support of NASA. He also

directed Dr. Brockway McMillan, Assistant Air Force Secretary for Research and

Development, to prepare essential NASA-Defense Department directives and procedures following acknowledgment by Defense Department representatives that the

107
between Air Force and NASA representatives, in late December 1961 Secretary Zuckert

also proposed formation ofa new Air Force Systems Command office, Deputy

Commander for Manned Space Flight, to include members ofall three services and

be located at NASA headquarters ."

While the Office of the Secretary of Defense studied the Air Force's December

proposal, on 24 February 1962 it granted the earlier Zuckert request by officially

designating the Air Force the "executive agent" for NASA support . Under terms of

Defense Department Directive 5030.18, titled "Department ofDefense Support of

National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA)," the Secretary ofthe Air

Force became responsible for "research, development, test, and engineering of satellites, boosters, space probes, and associated systems necessary to support specific

NASA projects and programs arising under basic agreements between NASA and

DOD." Air Force responsibilities included"detailed project level planning" and contract

and management arrangements.14

As the 24 August 1961 arrangement suggested, NASA remained heavily dependent

on Defense Department support . The civilian agency relied on the Defense Department's experience with the Navy Transit navigational satellite in planning its own

commercial or civilian satellite system and looked to the Defense Department for

procurement procedures, contract management services, and cost and work scheduling methods. From civilian agency's beginning, the Defense Department, largely

through the Air Force, had supplied personnel, rocket boosters, launch and range

facilities, and communications and tracking networks, as well as experience gained

from the ballistic missile program. By 1962, the Air Force and NASA had concluded

ten major agreements and a host of implementing arrangements. For NASA's Project

Mercury, the nation's first manned program, the Air Force provided most of the

astronauts, launch facilities and vehicles, range support, and the necessary recovery

forces . The Defense Department and NASA already had begun talks on Project

Gemini, the low-earth orbital follow-on program to Mercury, in which the Air Force

would play a similar supporting role . Beyond this, the Air Force supported fourteen

specific NASA programs, assigned ninety-six R&D officers to various NASA offices,

and assisted NASA with substantial Air Force funding . Moreover, NASA officials

recognized Air Force pretensions for a military role in space exploration and manned

spaceflight, and they sought to assuage Air Force concerns by pledging that NASA

would continue to support military interests as required ."

To Air Force leaders, the tactics of cooperation and advocacy appeared to be

achieving their objective of "full partnership" with NASA in the nation's space

program. Indeed, by the spring 1962 it seemed that Air Force space advocates could

point to success in all three areas oftheir campaign for an expanded Air Force-led

108
in-space program to prevent [foreign] military control ofspace as well as its exploitation." In response to this threat, the report stated, the Air Force would develop a

manned satellite designed to destroy hostile space vehicles . The newspaper went on to

assert that the White House and Space Council had authorized the Defense Department to conduct a six-month studyin order to prepare an expanded military space

program because, officials had said, NASA could not be relied on exclusively. Apparently, an earlier speech by Deputy Defense Secretary Gilpatrick on 13 Mayprecipitated

the Timesarticle . In that speech Gilpatrick argued in favor ofhaving military insurance in space. For the first time, he publiclyacknowledged that the Defense Department "has decided to develop the technology ofmanned orbital systems able to

rendezvous with satellites [neutralize or destroy them] and then land at preset

locations on earth." Such a system might combine the capabilities ofboth Dyna-Soar

and Saint. The Air Force interpreted the deputy secretary's remarks as authorizing

feasibility studies for Saint and, that same month, began negotiations with contractors on a three-month study."

The Timesreport in June unexpectedly precipitated a public outcry from critics

who worried that a military man-in-space program meant direct competition with

NASA and an antisatellite system in violation of the administration's declared use of

space for "peaceful purposes." The immediate political fallout proved disastrous to

Air Force hopes ofchanging administration policy. Administration officials quickly

reaffirmed the "space for peace" policy, while the Defense Department denied

authorizing the Air Force to proceed with antisatellite system development . The Air

Force System Command's Space Systems Division immediately canceled its contract

negotiations on the Saint project."

Later in June Deputy Secretary Gilpatrick and Harold Brown, the Director of

Defense Research and Engineering, appeared before the Senate Committee on

Aeronautical and Space Sciences to publicly deny that the Defense Department

intended to preempt NASA's role in manned spaceflight . But in doing so, Brown

raised doubts about the entire concept of military manned spaceflight. In response

to a question on the subject, he asserted that "I cannot define a military requirement

for them. I think there may, in the end, turn out not to be any." In effect, the director also implied that the Department's new "building block" approach to research

and development also might be invalid . If so, the Air Force would be prohibited

from conducting research on all programs without clear, defined missions. Moreover, during a news conference following the newspaper story, President Kennedy

responded to a question about a larger role for the military in space by saying, "No,

the military have [sic] an important and significant role, though the prime responsibility is held by NASA and is primarily peace." Such a remark did little to alleviate

continued public confusion about military space activities . Moreover, the Air Force

109
secrecy ban in place, which administration officials refused to acknowledge, the

sensitive reconnaissance programs begun under the Eisenhower administration

disappeared from public view. The ban also applied to the Navy's Transit navigational

satellite and Air Force sounding rockets and space probes. As a result, theAir Force

found it difficult to promote and justify the results ofits successful "peaceful" space

efforts in areas like communications, navigation, advanced spacecraft techniques,

guidance systems, and basic scientific research."

The controversial events of May and June 1962 signaled the end to the year-long

Air Force initiative to modify the "space for peace" policy and gain a larger Air

Force leadership role in space. In all likelihood, the Air Force space campaign and

the spring "firestorm" of publicity contributed to President Kennedy's decision on

26 May, in National Security Action Memorandum (NSAM) 156, directing the

Secretary of State to form an interagency committee to review the political ramifications of satellite reconnaissance policy. The 156 Committee focused on the question

of banning weapons of mass destruction from outer space. Efforts to prevent the

arms race from adding space to its arena dated back to the Eisenhower administration's policy of freedom of space through "Open Skies." But any agreement on space

seemed unachievable apart from a general disarmament scheme that ensured adequate inspection and verification . With the development of a satellite reconnaissance

and other intelligence capabilities, what became known as "national technical means"

ofverification answered this requirement . Soviet criticism ofAmerican "spy" satellites

diminished in 1963 following the Cuban Missile Crisis and their own progress in

developing reconnaissance satellites . By the end ofthe year, the United Nations passed

a resolution banning weapons of mass destruction from orbiting in space. Later, in

1967, fear ofa nuclear arms race in space had diminished to the point where negotiators, using the 1963 resolution as a basis for concluding a more comprehensive

arrangement, succeeded in reaching agreement on an Outer Space Treaty that

prohibited weapons in space. 19

Although the brouhaha in the spring of 1962 took administration and Air Force

leaders by surprise, several warning signs suggested that earlier Air Force optimism

might have been misplaced . For one thing, on 2o February 1962, Colonel John H.

Glenn, Jr., became the first American to orbit the earth part ofthe NASA Mercury

program. The largest television audience to that date watched his three-orbit Friendship? flight, and on I March he and fellow astronauts Alan B. Shepard, Jr., and Virgil

I . "Gus" Grissom received a ticker-tape parade in NewYork City attended by four

million people." In the acclaim and euphoria after the Glenn flight, NASA's star

ascended, and Soviet space achievements seemed less threatening and insurmountable . With the end ofa Soviet monopoly on manned spaceflight, Senator Stennis and
The Glenn flight relieved pressure on NASA and dashed Air Force hopes for a larger

voice in the national space program ."

As for Air Force space planning efforts, Secretary Zuckert and Air Staff planners

encountered little more than faint praise from Defense Department officials like

John H. Rubel, Deputy Director of Defense Research and Engineering, who had

listened to an earlier Air Force presentation of the plan in the fall of 1961 yet declined to recommend approval to his superiors. As one might suppose, the Defense

Department hewed to the President's space policy, but the Air Force held different

views about space objectives and the direction ofAir Force space programs. Even so,

Air Force leaders initiated a major planning and programming analysis in the spring

of1962 without first clarifying and agreeing with the Defense Department on military

space objectives."

Another sign that the administration began having second thoughts about an expanded military space program came with the Defense Department's final decision

on proposed increases in the fiscal year 1963 budget. Despite Secretary McNamara's

offer to entertain budget increases for Air Force space initiatives, by late spring of

1962 General Ferguson's new list of space projects and cost figures drew charges of

padding from Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Research and Development

Brockway McMillan, and in August the Secretary disapproved the supplemental

request . In the wake of the Glenn flight and the June "firestorm," the administration

felt much less inclined to accede to Air Force arguments.

13

Finally, the Air Force-NASA relationship proved less harmonious than suggested

by signed agreements and expressions of mutual cooperation from their leaders .

Almost immediately after the signing of the 24 August 1961 "Agreement on Responsibilities at the Manned Lunar Landing Program Launch Site," the two sides became

embroiled in disagreements over interpretation ofthe accord . The precipitating issue involved the Air Force's desire to locate the proposed Titan III launch site within

NASA's area of operation at Cape Canaveral, to purchase an additional u,ooo-acre

buffer region to the north, and to establish overflight procedures. By the spring of

1962, on the eve ofthe public outcry against perceived military ursupation of NASA's

responsibilities, differences overrange use remained unresolved, and theAir Force

also had raised the issue of reimbursable funding for support costs . Although these

issues might appear minor and easily settled, they in fact represented larger, longterm questions ofposition and responsibility within the nation's space program.'"

At the same time, the Air Force and the Defense Department did not always agree

on responsibilities and relationships toward the civilian agency. Indeed, Defense

Department officials proved in no hurry to recognize a special role for the Air Force

in support ofNASA. It took six months before Secretary McNamara sanctioned

Secretary Zuckert's request to have theAir Force designated "executive agent" for
passed before the Air Force designee, Major General O. J . Ritland, assumed his new

duties at NASA headquarters . Moreover, while the Air Force became the official

military service for NASA support, decision-making responsibility for supporting

NASA remained in the hands of the Defense Department's Director ofDefense

Research and Engineering . With its campaign for a larger space role in shambles in

late spring of 1962, the Air Force clearly needed to establish a more effective working

relationship with both the Defense Department and NASA if it expected to preserve

the prerogatives it still held.

By the summer of 1962, the 156 Committee had reaffirmed the Eisenhower policy

on space and decided against the Air Force on the issue of weapons in orbit. The Air

Force also failed in its efforts to take over management of Project CORONA following cancellation of its Samos reconnaissance satellite program in the spring. Moreover, with the military man-in-space mission in question, the Air Force now faced

the prospect ofgreater reliance on NASA for any involvement in manned spaceflight

operations. The decisions taken in 1962 effectively ended Air Force efforts to lead an

expanded effort that included weapons in space."

Confronting the McNamara Defense Department

In the early months ofthe Kennedy administration, Air Force leaders had chosen

to overlook signs that their position as the military space service faced potentially

severe constraints. By the same 6 March 1961 directive assigning future space

research and development to the Air Force, Secretary McNamara moved to restrict

"the independent freedom of action of the three military services . . . by limiting the

latitude of the military departments to increase emphasis and funding for various

projects ."" In the McNamara Defense Department, the office of the Director of

Defense Research and Engineering (DDR&E), under Harold Brown, became more

forceful as the Secretary's central staff reviewing agency for all military space

research projects . The 1961 directive noted that DDR&E-not the Air Force-would

define the parameters of military space research, select projects for development,

and review all space proposals before sending them on to Secretary McNamara."

The lunar landing decision masked the full impact ofthe Defense Department's

approach as both Congress and the administration increased funding and support

to a variety of space programs. At the same time, while the Defense Department

directive had specified and tightened the basic rules for performing space research

and development, it left open the question ofthe criteria for acceptable military space

programs as well as their relation to NASA's agenda. Under pressure from the Air

Force campaign for a greater military space role, the intention ofthe Defense Department to force the services to defend their programs bycomparing costs and benefits

emerged only gradually over the course of1961 "fl
on to control costly newspace development proposals . Having reorganized in large

part to perform as the "military space agency," the Air Force hoped for a repeat of

the relatively "free hand" it had to build missiles without undue concern for cost

overruns and duplication . At the same time, the Air Force found itself the service

most heavily committed to expensive space programs, especially those like DynaSoar and others that involved manned spaceflight, without well-defined military

operational missions. With decisions on funding these important and expensive

new projects in the hands ofthe Defense Secretary and his civilian staff offices,

prospects for disagreement between the Office ofthe Secretary ofDefense and the

Air Force proved unavoidable." Indeed, when confronted with Air Force proposals,

Director Brown and his staff increasinglydemanded more precise requirements and

"program definition" in terms ofcosts, schedules, and technical hurdles . Defense

Department review officials applied rigorous cost analyses to programs from the

development stage through full-scale production to deployment. The initial history

ofthe Titan III space booster illustrated the Defense Department roadblocks facing

Air Force space programs ."

The prospect of a standardized launch vehicle strongly appealed to the costconscious McNamara Defense Department. Initial discussions by AACB members

led DDR&E's deputy director, John Rubel, to promote the idea as a "unified program

concept" that would provide the model for future space program planning. In early

August 1961 he and AssistantAir Force Secretary for Research and Development

Brockway McMillan organized under the auspices of the AACB an Ad Hoc Committee for Standardized Workhorse Launch Vehicles to examine alternate approaches

for a rugged booster capable of orbiting 1o,ooo-pound payloads at 300-mile altitudes. Later the committee raised the booster performance requirement, calling for

a capability oflaunching payloads between 5,ooo and 25,000 pounds into low-earth

orbit. By September the committee and the Air Staff had agreed on the combination

ofa Titan II upgraded with strap-on solid boosters and a high-energy upper stage for

future, heavier satellites . Led by Space Systems Division, Air Force agencies immediately began intensive studies ofroles, designs, performance capabilities and reliability,

and a cost and development schedule . On 13 October 1961 the Air Force received

permission from Deputy Director Rubel to start a "phase I" study for a system

"package" comprising "a family of launch vehicles based on the Titan 111.1'5

1

Although the Air Force favored the prospect of a standardized booster more

powerful than either the Thor or Atlas, the Defense Department's micromanagement

soon proved unwelcome. As SecretaryMcMillan recalled, the Titan project became the

"most comprehensive advanced development planning effort ever undertaken bythe

Air Force."" In effect, Secretary McNamara saw in the Titan III booster the ideal test

case for applying his innovative management procedures to reduce costs and acceler-
Force. Project definitionrequired more detail ; a strong program office supervised

every aspect; and the Air Force received direction to use new Program Evaluation

ReviewTechniques and establish special accounting and auditing procedures. Director

Rubel involved his office in initial study proposals, and he required use ofa civilian

consultant agency throughout the bidding period . When the Defense Department

delayed the release of funds and continued to "refine" procurement procedures, the

Air Force had to extend the study's due date from i February to i April 1962 . Meanwhile, after Space Systems Division presented its findings on technical aspects ofthe

project, Rubel requested a "white paper" assessing the program's philosophy and

technical approach . Even after a thorough review ofthe phase I plan byAir Force

officials, Rubel returned it a number oftimes for additional data and lower cost

estimates to assist the Defense Department's review. Bylate spring the repeatedly

revised schedule projected an initial Titan 11IA test flight in May 1964 and the first

Titan IIIC flight in January 1965 . 53

The Defense Department's intensive scrutiny and persistent involvement drew

the wrath of General Schriever. On 3o April 1962 he complained to Chief of Staff

LeMay of "unprecedented. . . demands for large volumes ofinformation and

program data that is magnified at each succeeding organizational level . Decisions on

matters that have never been previously reviewed are being withheld for inordinate

lengths of time." He especially worried about the future impact ofdemands for

detailed design specifications before the decision on program approval had been

taken. "If we are to be held to this overly conservative approach, I fear the timid will

replace the bold and we will not be able to provide the advanced weapons the future

of the nation demands .""

The Defense Department's management procedures and system development

criteria failed to convince Air Force leaders that space systems could reach maturity

faster and cheaper. Defense Department practices also threatened to eliminate all Air

Force programs that failed to convince the Office ofthe Secretary ofDefense ofultimate mission success. As a result, under the new administration, the old dilemma

posed by the "new ocean" ofspace became more acute for Air Force planners. While

space continued to represent an unknown frontier that required exploration to determine its potential uses and missions, the Defense Department's rigid approach to

requirements cast doubt on the service's ability to preserve both its hard-won fight to

conduct basic research in space and pursue projects whether or not they could claim

a viable mission in the end. But howto answer the military's argument that, in order

to counter Soviet superiorityin space and avoid a technological surprise, the nation

must pursue militaryspace research and development initiatives regardless of

guaranteed mission success? The Defense Department's solution was the "building

block" approach to military preparedness .
President's Aeronautics and Space Activities Reportfor 1962. As the Defense Secretary

explained, space projects comprise two categories, those with "identifiable military

needs and requirements," and those "designed to investigate promising military space

capabilities . . . [to insure] . . . a broad flexible technological base" readyfor adaptation

and development for systems once future military requirements were identified . The

latter categoryrepresented "building blocks" forfuture use, and the Titan iii, which

initially supported no operational requirement, exemplified this approach." In this

manner,the Defense Department continued to fund a variety ofadditional space

projects, including space probes, large solid-propellant rocket engines, laser technology, ion propulsion, and bioastronautics, along with a host ofrelated supporting

research and development activities . On the other hand, the "building block" rationale provided the Defense Department more control over a growing number of

expensive projects . Air Force leaders became increasingly alarmed at the shrinking

research and development budgets for space.' In General Schriever's view the

McNamara Defense Department's focus on cost effectiveness and the desire to

accommodate the Soviet Union stifled the Air Force's efforts to move from exploratory to advanced research.

16

Following the public furor in June 1962 about potential Air Force"offensive"

systems in space, the Secretary and his staff showed less willingness to accommodate

Air Force proposals . The new attitude became especially clear by fall in the remarks

of the Deputy Director of Defense for Research and Engineering. In a speech on

9 October 1962, John Rubel asserted that the Defense Department's space spending

was as high as it could go given the "uncertainties" of the military program. Therefore, although new space projects might seem potentially useful, they would

undergo increased scrutiny for their contribution to the military mission . Most

alarming to Air Force leaders, Rubel suggested that many Air Force proposals did

not meet the required high research and development standards ofhis office but

merely served abstract doctrines about the military space role . He pointedly referred

to the now traditional Air Force concept of aerospace, by which space represented a

mere continuum of the atmosphere and the logical area for Air Force operations.

He saw no useful purpose in such theories that suggested the vacuum of outer space

would become the next battleground, or that "control" of space, whatever that

implied, meant control of the earth. An expanded Air Force space program had no

place in the Deputy's view of the nation's current and future space posture .17

Although all Air Force space proposals received increased attention from the

Defense Department, Rubel's remarks indicated that the Defense Department found

See Appendices 2-2 and 2-3 .
research projects, while providing the means ofavoiding commitment to costly new

programs. In light of the Defense Department's rigid criteria and conservative research

and development philosophy, Air Force space planners encountered major roadblocks in their efforts to develop credible long-range space planning and programming documents . Rubel's speech, in fact, occurred shortly after theAir Force had

completed its most intensive space planning effort to date. The Air Force endeavor

represented the era's "last hurrah" in the service's aggressive campaign for an expanded, Air Force-led space program.

TheAir Force Plans and Programs for Space Leadership

In the spring and summer of 1962 Air Force leaders carried out three major space

planning initiatives in response to perceived weaknesses in the national space

program: the "West Coast" phase; the Five-Year Space Program Study; and an Air

Staff-supervised revision of the Air Force Space Plan. The "West Coast" phase

involved a technically oriented study conducted at Space Systems Division in Los

Angeles under the direction of Lieutenant General Howell Estes, Jr., Deputy Commander ofAir Force Systems Command for Aerospace . An "Executive Committee"

phase represented a second space study effort led by Lieutenant General James L.

Ferguson, Deputy Chief ofStaff for Research and Development, who formed a joint

Air Staff-major command task group to formulate a Five-Year Space Program.

Finally, during the spring and summer theAir Staff's Deputyfor Development

Planning supervised a revision ofthe September 1961 Air Force Space Plan."

The"West Coast" phase occurred in response to Secretary McNamara's

23 February 1962 letter to SecretaryZuckert, in which he emphasized the need to

establish the "necessary technological base and experience," or building blocks, for

possible manned space requirements at some future date. 19 In mid-April General

Estes convened a Space Technical Objectives [planning] Group composed ofa wide

spectrum of the "best scientific and technical personnel available to AFSC" Its

mission was to formulate long-range space program requirements centered around

technical objectives . In a revealing initial address to the group on 14 April, Estes

described the prevalent atmosphere of great skepticism at the Defense Department

surrounding the project . He was "shocked," he said, to find that the Defense Departmentbelieved the Air Force developed technical justifications to support preconceived

ideas and objectives ; moreover, Defense officials considered that their technical work

in coordinating Defense Department-NASA programs had left the Air Force with little

ofvalue to offer. The general expected his study group's work to convince the Defense

Department otherwise . He also reminded his audience that the Defense Department

intended to maintain control ofall military space programs and, as a formal procedure, had required Air Force Systems Command to obtain clearance from DDR&E
had to be absolutely credible and integrated into the overall space program. Finally,

the Defense Department remained "suspicious of our desires to run a military space

program," and believed that the Air Force should focus on building a sound technical base rather than development of operational systems . 6o

General Estes formed several directing committees and twelve technical panels

to assess important space research and development areas, including launch

vehicles, space propulsion, spacelift support, space communication equipment,

weapons, reentry vehicles, and spacecraft . On 14 June, after two months of study,

the general and his Space Systems Division colleagues presented their analysis and

findings on current programs and future requirements to Defense Department

representatives, who suggested that the Air Force, like the Defense Department,

move forward on preparing a Five-Year Space Program. Although on 25 June the

"West Coast" group briefed its results at Air Force Systems Command and Air Force

headquarters, their report never received approval or release authority, even within

AFSC. By the end of June the Estes study had been superseded by the Executive

Committee's Five-Year Space Program effort ."

The "Executive Committee" phase ofthe Air Force space effort, which lasted from

26 June to 16 September, brought together at Air Force headquarters representatives

from the Air Staff and major commands. In contrast to the "West Coast" group's

technical focus, the Executive Committee sought to meet specific operational objectives . Much ofthe effort centered on a "requirements panel" of full colonels that

directedAir Force Systems Command's Space Systems Division to prepare a program

that conformed to specific strategic, reconnaissance, defense, command and control,

and support "capability requirements :' In early September, SpaceSystems Division

presented an ambitious program ofsixteen projects with a five-year cost of$9.8

billion . Yet by 9 November, when Secretary Zuckert submitted the Air Force fiscal year

1964 space budget request, the total figure had been progressively reduced to $2.85

billion . Even so, "in viewofthe magnitude ofthese amounts," the Secretary explained,

he elected to request major funding increases totaling $Zoo million beyond currently

approved Defense Department funding only for four ofthe programs-theMilitary

Orbital Development System space station, the Blue Gemini manned spaceflight

project to experimentwith Gemini capsules, the MIDAS missile detection system,

and Saint, the satellite inspector. Beyond the four on the Secretary's list, onlyDynaSoar and the large solid-fuel booster program could even expect to receive substantial funding. 61

As the Five-Year Space Program study neared completion, the Air Staff already

had finished its revisions to the 1961 Space Plan.63 In its detailed review of space

technology, the plan relied heavily on the "West Coast" study by projecting "stateof-the-art" in each of the twelve technical areas. It also defined objectives for each
the operational importance ofmanned military systems. "[M] an has certain qualitative capabilities which cannot be ignored," argued the planners, who proceeded

to elaborate on potential roles for man-in-space described earlier in General

Ferguson's congressional testimony and the previous year's space plan. They also

noted that "requirements for manned military space systems seem inevitable despite present uncertainties concerning man's exactmilitary role in space. " 61 On

29 August 1962 planners circulated the revised draft for comment. Although most

responses proved favorable, the Air Force never officially issued an approved version ofthe plan.

None ofthe three initiatives received formal acceptance from the Air Force or the

Defense Department. Launor E Carter, the ChiefScientist for theAir Force,pointedly

remarked that the Air Force could hardly expect to formulate an effective space

programwithout an approved space plan. Lacking initial agreement between the

Defense Department and the Air Force on concepts and objectives, he argued, neither

plan nor program would see the light of day. Like its September 1961 predecessor, the

August 1962 Space Plan remained a draft study only, unapproved.

In early 1963 Carter subjected the entire 1962 planning and programming process

to a scathing critique . He asserted that much of the Estes initiative proved ineffectual due to the absence of long-term plans approved by the Defense Department

and the Secretary of the Air Force. Without these, operational commands could

insist on unreasonable operational capability requirements which made an orderly

research and development program impossible. Moreover, in preparation ofthe FiveYear Space Program, top-level decision makers envisioned a modest five year program, while the action panels established requirements calling for funding increases

upwards of$5 billion . Realistic programming proved impossible under these circumstances. The chiefscientist also criticized the practice ofrequesting from scientists only

their opinion oftechnical feasibility without the additional complexities involving cost,

timing, and alternative systems . In this regard, he singled out the Air Force's misuse of

its best technical resource, the Aerospace Corporation . Rather than play a vital role in

the study process, the service's major support contractor for space seemed to provide

significant inputs only when "they happened to coincide with those of their military

employers ." Above all, Carter explained the failure ofthe space program development

effort as the result of"distant relations" between the Air Force and DDR&E, characterized bythe Air Force's failure to involve the Defense Department agency continuously in the process . 65

From the chief scientist's perspective, the Air Force would have to establish better

relations with the Defense Department, and especially DDR&E, before it could hope

to achieve its space objectives. The unilateral pursuit of space objectives in a
p 

py

service also had become much more dependent onNASA for participation in manned

spaceflight operations.

Developing a"Partnership"with NASA

The Defense Department directive of6 March 1961 and subsequent guidance had been

no more specific on the relationship ofAir Force and NASA space programs than it

had on requirements for Defense Department approval ofAir Force initiatives .

Although the 1958 Space Act designated NASA responsible for civilian space activity, it

also required the agencyto support military needs by"making available to agencies

directly concerned with national defense . . . discoveries that have military value or

significance ."" In declaring itself for an integrated national space program, the

Kennedy administration reinforced the need to emphasize cooperative efforts and

interagency coordinating mechanisms to provide mutual support and avoid duplication . The Air Force relationship with NASA in the 196os involved four major aspects :

shared programs and technologies ; NASA's overwhelming dependence on theAir

Force for launch and ground support ; NASA's continued support ofAir Force

aeronautical research ; and "persistent attempts by theAir Force to investigate the

military applications ofspace," especially ofmanned earth-orbital operations."

Characterized by support, coordination, and rivalry, the Air Force association with

NASA would depend less on the actions of the Air Force itself than on the evolution

ofboth the Defense Department's and NASA's assertiveness and their interrelationship on space policy and programs.

Throughout 1961 the pervasive nature of NASA's dependence on military support

-especially from theAir Force-and continued high-level coordination between the

Defense Department and NASAtended to conceal the fact that NASA was evolving

into the dominant space organization . By the spring of1962 it had grown in one year

from 57,500 to 115,500 personnel, and a year later had 218,ooo on its roster. 68 Meanwhile, NASA's budget also signaled its phenomenal growth. Its fiscal year 1961 budget

of$926 million, or 51 .2 percent of the total space budget, represented the first yearthe

civilian agency received more funding than the Defense Department. By fiscal year

1963, the NASA budget comprised 66.7 percent ofthe total space budget, while the

Defense Department's figures indicated a decline from 45 percent ofthe total budget

in fiscal year 1961 to 28.5 percent in fiscal year 1963."

NASA's increased size and budgets reflected its responsibility for all manned

spaceflight and strengthened its bargaining power and willingness to take a more

active part in coordinating programs with the Air Force. Disagreement over pro-

* See Appendix 3-2.
indicated another. In March 1962, NASA took the additional step of establishing

independent field offices at both the Cape Canaveral and Vandenberg missile ranges

in order to assert its "own identity" and prerogatives. The following year, it concluded

an agreement with the Air Force whereby it signed on to use the Agena upper stage . In

doing so, NASA officials became involved early in the planning stage andjoined the

Air Force Configuration Control Board for the Atlas, Thor, and Agena space vehicles .

It also participated in the production phase by establishing special coordination

groups at Air Force Systems Command to monitor production development . NASA's

extensive involvement in Defense Department activities led in December 1962to the

appointment ofa Deputy Associate Administrator for Defense Affairs . Under retired

AdmiralWF. Boone, this office became a central coordination and liaison element

between NASA and both the Defense Department and the individual military services.69 By contrast, the earlier Air Force initiative to establish the AFSC Office of the

Deputy Commander for Space at NASA headquarters represented the need for closer

coordination and establishment ofa strong Air Force presence with the increasingly

important space agency With the Air Force's disappointment over its failed campaign

for a larger military space role, it became increasingly interested in cooperative

programs with NASA. When the Defense Department continued to question the

requirement for an Air Force man-in-space role, the particular focus for Air ForceNASA relations became manned spaceflight . 70

By early 1963 both the Defense Department and NASAhad become more determined to establish their own prerogatives and responsibilities for man-in-space

activities, with the Air Force often playing the role of spectator as well as participant.

The Project Gemini agreement of 21 January 1963, signed by Defense Secretary

McNamara and NASA Administrator Webb, represented a major watershed in the

evolving relationship between the three parties .

TheAir Force Pursues a Dyna-Soar and a Space Station

In 1963, action in space involved manned spaceflight, and NASA possessed all of it.

The Air Force, however, had in various stages of study and development a number

of projects involving manned spaceflight, with which it hoped to claim a role of its

own. Dyna-Soar represented the only program approved by the Office of the

Secretary of Defense and the one reflecting the Air Force's strongest institutional

commitment and interest . The remaining manned projects centered on some form

of space station or laboratory.

Although the modern idea ofa space station dates back to Hermann Oberth's work

in the 192os, Air Force researchers began actively studying the concept in 1957 when a

Wright Air Development Center report examined the requirement for possible space

research stations . In the wake ofSputnik the Air Force received a variety ofcontractor

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manned spaceflight and space exploration missions, the Air Force found itself confined largely to space development activities with recognized military requirements or

likely military implications. Even so, the space station concept continued to receive

attention from Air Force planners like Brigadier General Homer A. Boushey, Director

ofAdvanced Technology, who believed it might serve as an effective observation post

and patrol or bombardment platform . In June i96o, the Air Research and Development Command approved a study requirement calling for a military test space

station (MTSS) to assess the potential ofmilitary men and equipment to function in

space." By 1961 Air Force leaders had deemed the space station essential to the Air

Force space program. The September 1961 Space Plan justified its acquisition as necessaryfor evaluating"space command posts, permanent space surveillance stations,

space resupply bases, permanent orbiting weapon delivery platforms, subsystems,

and components. "'Z

Defense Department officials became aware ofthe Air Force space station concept late in the fall of 1961 during presentations of the Space Plan and correspondence between Secretaries Zuckert and McNamara. While the Defense Department

studied the matter, General Ferguson told congressional committees in early 1962

that in order to conduct testing in "the true space environment . . . we are convinced

that a manned, military test space station should be undertaken as early as possible."

He went on to refer to possible coordination with NASA for use ofthe Gemini as the

ferry vehicle for the orbiting station . Underway since December 1961, planning for

Gemini, NASA's successor to Project Mercury, had always assumed substantial Air

Force involvement."

In a letter to Secretary Zuckert on 22 February 1962, Secretary McNamara

encouraged the Air Force to pursue the concept by using Dyna-Soar and Gemini

technology in the initial development phase. By late March Air Staff and AFSC

planners had confirmed the technical feasibility of the project, now designated the

military orbital development system (MODS). When submitted to the Pentagon for

approval in early June, MODS consisted of a permanent station test module, a

Gemini spacecraft, and the Titan III "building block" launcher. In August theAir Force

had added a separate program for the spacecraft termed Blue Gemini, which focused

specifically on rendezvous, docking, and personnel transfer functions . Air Force pilots

would fly on six Gemini missions to gain astronaut experience for the MODS missions. But the Blue Gemini project did not elicit universal support within the Air

Force. Some, like Chiefof Staff General Curtis E. LeMay, worried that it might

endanger the troubled Dyna-Soar program. Others argued that its use ofavailable

technology and equipment would make it operational before the X-20. NASA, on the

other hand, saw in Blue Gemini a means ofadding more defense funding to the entire

Geminiproject. By December 1962, however, Secretary McNamara had canceled Blue
Gemini mission."

Although actions by the Office of the Secretary of Defense reflected Secretary

McNamara's strong reservations about Air Force manned spaceflight projects, he

remained unwilling to close the door entirely on determining a military role for

man in space and leave the field of manned spaceflight entirely to NASA. Indeed, his

view of an integrated national space program envisioned a continued major Defense

Department voice in space decision-making, and he proved determined to assert the

prerogatives of his office with Administrator Webb and his colleagues. In fact,

during the week and a half before the signing of the Gemini agreement, Secretary

McNamara attempted to take complete control of the Gemini project. Stressing the

Defense Department's experience and the integrated nature of the national space

program, he first informally proposed that all Defense Department and NASA

manned spaceflight programs be centralized under Defense Department management. When Webb declined, the Defense Secretary countered by suggesting that

Gemini be managed jointly by the Defense Department and NASA. Once again, to

preserve its freedom of action, NASA refused the Secretary's advances . Nevertheless,

in the agreement NASA concluded with the Defense Department on 21 January 1963,

it went far to accommodate Defense Department concerns .75

Although managed by NASA, the project would involve Defense Department participation in every phase. The agreement created a joint Gemini Program Planning

Board cochaired by NASA's Associate Administrator, Robert Seamans, and the

Assistant Secretary of the Air Force for Research and Development, Brockway

McMillan . Its charter called for it to plan and conduct operations to "avoid duplication of effort in manned spaceflight and to insure maximum attainment of both

DoD and NASA objectives ." Ultimately sixteen of the forty-nine Gemini experiments represented Defense Department projects that proved important for NASA,

too. They focused on determining the military usefulness of manned spaceflight by

testing extravehicular maneuvers with chest units and propulsion equipment

designed for the Gemini space suit and the effects of weightlessness over extended

periods of time in space. Additional projects included radiometric, radiation, and

navigation experiments, and a variety of photographic and visual tests to determine

the capability of acquiring, tracking, and photographing space objects and terrestrial features from the Gemini capsule . Because the Air Force considered many of

these experiments classified, NASA officials worried about compromising their

"peaceful" image. Despite considerable internal opposition, top agencyofficials agreed

with the argument ofNASA's Defense Affairs chief, Admiral Boone, that the national

interest and NASA's charter warranted their inclusion .

76

Above all, NASA submitted to McNamara's insistence that "NASA and the DoD

would initiate major new programs or projects in the field ofmanned spaceflight in

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agency's scientific proposals on the basis of an unfavorable cost-benefit ratio while

compelling the agencyto agree to the Defense Department's manned spaceflight

projects in the name ofnational security. Although NASA's fears did not materialize,

this concession helped provide the Defense Department and the Air Force the leverage

to secure future military inputs in national space decisions." Yet the Air Force could

not be entirely pleased with the Gemini decision. Despite retaining strong involvement

with experiments and operational support, it did not represent the separate military

manned spaceflight program it desired. Nor did it ease fears that NASA's Project

Gemini competed with Air Force programs and might convince the Defense Department to cancel Dyna-Soar and other Air Force man-in-space projects . In fact, Gemini

seemed to imply that there could be no Air Force manned space program independent of NASA.

By 1963 both the Defense Department and NASA confronted difficult questions

about the nation's post-Apollo space future. For NASA, the main focus of what it

called its Apollo Applications Program proved to be some form of space station, for

which it had already initiated preliminary studies . Despite the already impressive

performance of automated spacecraft, Air Force leaders continued to view the space

future largely in terms of manned spaceflight and pressured a reluctant Defense

Department accordingly. The task proved difficult . Following the Gemini agreement

Defense Secretary McNamara established more stringent criteria for approving military space projects . As he explained to the Senate Appropriations Subcommittee in

the spring of 1963, the space program must satisfy two basic criteria . "First, it must

mesh with the efforts of. . . NASA. . . in all vital areas. . . . Second, projects supported by

the Defense Department must promise, insofar as possible, to enhance our military

power and effectiveness ." He went on to defend the importance of cooperative

efforts between the two agencies for the success of an integrated national program.

'8

For the Air Force, the new criteria seemed to mean that NASA came first, and

space proposals would continue to suffer from the "requirements merry-go-round ."

By 1963, a cost-conscious Defense Department confronted crucial decisions on a

number of major Air Force space programs for which research and development

had reached important milestones . Consuming an ever larger share ofthe $1 .5 billion space budget, now these projects faced more demanding Defense Department

approval criteria." Should the Defense Department support advanced development,

proceed with development at scaled-back levels, or cancel the projects entirely?

Programs under this kind of scrutiny included Bambi, MIDAS, Saint, andespecially-Dyna-Soar .

Armed with its new approval criteria, the Defense Department chose to "reorient" MIDAS with reduced funding and an extended development schedule in spite

of its five successful flights in 1963. As Secretary McNamara explained, there still

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Determining that Bambi and Saint unfavorably competed with NASA programs and

alternative Defense Department systems, he canceled Bambi entirely and reduced Saint

to a "definition" study. Although theAir Force had argued that NASA's projects did

not involve "non-cooperative" targets, the Defense Secretary had decided to turn from

antimissile and antisatelfte defense to more "reliable" and "cost effective" groundbased radar and missile systems . Above all, only ground-based systems qualified in

terms ofnational policy ofspace for peaceful purposes."

The one-man piloted Dyna-Soar faced the most intense scrutiny because it represented the costliest space project in the budget, and Defense officials continued to

question what it would be used for since it could not be used for its original purpose

oforbital bombing . As the Defense Secretary commented to the House Armed

Services Committee in January 1963, "some very difficult technical problems still

remain to be solved in this program, particularly in connection with the mode of

reentry."" That same month he charged his DDR&E chief, Harold Brown, to assess

the advantages and disadvantages of Dyna-Soar compared to expected benefits from

NASA's two-man Gemini program." Yet the technical challenges seemed to worry

Secretary McNamara less than the high costs and especially the militarypurpose

served . In March 1963 he consulted with NASA's Administrator, James Webb, on

possible alternatives to spending $6oo million for the Dyna-Soar program, with its "ill

defined militaryrequirement."" Later, in October, he visited the Martin-Marietta

plant in Denver to review progress on the X-2o and Titan III. His concerns remained

the same ones he had expressed in the spring . The Air Force focused primarily on

getting into and out of orbit rather on the basic question: "what does the Air Force

really want to do in space and why?" The Secretary left dissatisfied with the answers

he had received."

By the fall of 1963, while the door was closing on the Dyna-Soar program, it had

opened for the concept ofdeveloping a military space station . Although the MODS

project had been eliminated from the fiscal year 1963 budget, SecretaryMcNamara

authorized the Air Force in the spring of1963 to examine a similar concept known as

the national orbital space station (NOSS) . Apparently, McNamara approved the Air

Force study in response to indications that NASA was ready to sign a $3.5-million

contract study for a Manned Orbital Research Laboratory. At this point, both the

Defense Department and the Air Force believed that a military version could be

selected as the national space station in competition with NASA for post-Apollo

space applications ."

During the spring and summer of 1963 senior Defense Department and NASA

officials discussed the possibility of developing new manned earth orbital research

and development projects . Secretary McNamara lobbied forcefully for the Defense

Department's involvement from the start in any exploratory study effort . For him

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into the design . He believed that the recommendation ofthe AACB

s Manned Space

Flight panel for coordination and exchange of information did not go far enough. He

proposed a joint "sign off" clause for "initiation of any contractor study program or

project in the field ofmanned orbital test stations ofa magnitude equal to or greater

than a $1,ooo per year level of effort .""

The Secretary's tactic consisted of submitting to NASA officials signed draft

Defense Department-NASA agreements for Administrator Webb's signature without preliminary staffing by both parties . McNamara's position and tactics alarmed

Webb and his colleagues, who refused to allow the Defense Secretary veto power

over initial studies NASA officials considered necessary to make effective planning

and programming decisions." With the two sides deadlocked, in late July Vice

President Johnson asked for their views on space stations . The Defense Secretary

took the opportunity to forcefully commit his agency to a space project that

promised "immediate utility as a laboratory and development facility" that could

evolve into an effective military vehicle . The Vice President's interest helped provide

momentum for agreement. After declining to sign several proposed arrangements,

officials from both agencies met informally and worked through the AACB to reach

a compromise ."

On 14 September 1963 the Defense Department and NASA signed an agreement

covering a "Possible New Manned Earth Orbital Research and Development

Project ." By terms of the accord, the two sides agreed on a "common approach" to

projects involving new manned orbital research and development vehicles, particularly manned orbital systems larger and more complex than Gemini and Apollo .

The goal would be a single project capable of meeting the requirements of both

agencies. The Aeronautics and Astronautics Coordinating Board would coordinate

the studies with the intention ofsubmitting a joint recommendation for presidential

approval. Management responsibility and funding apportionment would be determined jointly. Although Defense Secretary McNamara had reservations about NASA's

head start and the method for handling disagreements, Administrator Webb reassured him with promises offull cooperation from the outset on all manned spaceflight projects . The Defense Secretary's concerns notwithstanding, the new agreement

superseded the Gemini accord and ensured Defense Department an equal voice in

post-Apollo national space decisions. 10

Following the NASA-Defense Department space station agreement, Defense Secretary McNamara proceeded with his own plans for a military manned spaceflight

research project to replace the Dyna-Soar manned orbital glider. By November

DDR&E had completed the evaluation of Dyna-Soar's future that had engaged its

attention since January. On the 14th Director Brown recommended that the Air

125
tests) project, previously a part ofthe Advanced Reentry and Precision Recovery

Program begun in Junei96o. 9 '

Interestingly, ofthe six alternative Gemini-based space station proposals considered, Brown favored one far more ambitious than the Manned Orbiting Laboratory,

the project announced by Secretary McNamara in December 1963 . DDR&E's initial

proposal called for a large, 2,140 cubic foot, four-room station with a crew of four

astronauts on a thirty-day rotation, and launched by a Titan III . The ambitious plan

included extensive ferrying, docking, and resupply operations. When the Director

submitted the proposal to NASA as required by terms ofthe 13 September agreement, however, he encountered opposition from agency officials who believed the

project conflicted with the civilian agency's mandate for such experiments. NASA

countered with a more restricted alternative, an orbiting military laboratory. By

considering the system a laboratory and not a space station, NASA could effectively

argue that the military should leave ferry, docking, and resupply experiments to

future NASA programs. Similar to the original Air Force MODS proposal, the NASAproposed laboratory consisted of a Gemini capsule linked to a test module and

launched by a Titan IIIC . The modest project seemed based more on the interagency

Gemini agreement ofJanuary 1963 than on the September accord . As such, it would

serve to postpone a formal decision on management responsibility for a national

space station and, thereby, allow the Air Force to retain a man-in-space mission .

Although Director Brown continued to advocate his original proposal, he agreed that

the NASAalternative represented a credible "near-term" manned military space

program. There the matter stood in December 1963 when the Defense Secretary made

a major decision on the future ofAir Force manned spaceflight ."

Setting Course on a Manned Orbiting Laboratory

Although the DDR&E recommendations precipitated a last-ditch effort byAir Staff

officers to save Dyna-Soar, their arguments proved futile . At a 1o December 1963

press conference, Secretary McNamara announced the cancellation of Dyna-Soar

and the approval of a Manned Orbiting Laboratory (MOL). The Secretary justified

his decision to end the Dyna-Soar (X-20) program by citing imposing technical

challenges to achieving an overly ambitious set ofobjectives that included maneuverable capability and precise reentry and landing techniques. Furthermore, the vehicle

could carry only one man and had already moved beyond the Titan I and II to the

Titan III . As the booster sequence suggests, budgetary concerns seemed uppermost in

the Secretary's thinking. Already accounting for over halfthe budget for space research and development at $400 million, planners estimated a final program cost of

$1 billion . Under existing constraints, theAir Force budget clearly could not accommodate both Dyna-Soar and the MOL."

126
canceled nearly two years before its first scheduled orbital flight, Dyna-Soarleft

important legacies . Secretary Zuckert approved continuation ofthirty-six specific

activities in areas ofadvanced technology, hardware, and technical data. Improvements with high-temperature materials and fabrication processing contributed to

development of other spacecraft and large rocket boosters . Data from over 2,000

hours of wind tunnel testing provided significant knowledge on aerodynamic

stability and control and structural design problems . Engineers expected to adapt

the X-20's environmental control system for future use, while the four guidance

subsystems found immediate application in space activities." The Dyna-Soar represented the first approved military spacefaring system, and the only one that initially

included an offensive role . It kept the focus on manned military spaceflight and,

most importantly, helped lead to the development of the Titan III, the "DC-3 of the

space age." Its aerodynamic approach to space operations would reappear in the

future in the form of the Space Shuttle . Meanwhile, Air Force space interests would

now focus on examining man's capability to operate in the controlled environment

of a space laboratory. This laboratory would have no offensive capability but, rather,

would conductpassive defense functions in keeping with national space policy.

In the Manned Orbiting Laboratory, the Air Force at long last believed it would

attain its man-in-space objectives, whatever they might be. The proposed laboratory, which closely resembled NASA's alternative to DDR&E's space station proposal,

would rely on existing components from both Defense Department and NASA

programs. Launched by a Titan III, a modified Gemini capsule would act as the

transport vehicle for an attached laboratory canister "approximately the size of a

house trailer." In the laboratory a two-man crew would conduct "shirt-sleeve"

experiments, such as pointing cameras, for a three-day period ."

In one sense, the MOL represented a significant departure from the Defense

Department's stringent requirements criteria . To this point the Air Force had faced

a requirements paradox for military manned spaceflight projects . Because the

Defense Department saw no specific requirements for military man-in-space, it had

continued to oppose development ofAir Force programs and authorized only participation in NASA-managed projects like Gemini. From the Air Force viewpoint,

such projects did not provide necessary data on potential military capabilities on

the frontier of space Secretary McNamara's comments on the MOL reveal both his

skepticism about manned spaceflight and his concession to the Air Force:

This is an experimental program, not related to a specific military

mission . I have said many times in the past that the potential requirements for manned operations in space for military purposes are not

clear. But that, despite the fact they are not clear, we will undertake a

carefully controlled program of developing the techniques which would

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In effect, the Manned Orbiting Laboratory would become the new military manned

spaceflight "building block."

As forhis established criterion requiring compatibility with NASA's projects, the

Secretary stated that MOL did not duplicate NASA programs because, unlike Apollo

and other current NASA projects, it filled a gap in the national space program by

providing long-duration "near-earth orbit" manned spaceflight experiments under

conditions of weightlessness . Furthermore, the Defense Department's laboratory

would pursue military objectives like reconnaissance and satellite detection and inspection when possible . NASA had been invited to participate, although McNamara

pointedly declared that "this entire program will be Air Force managed."" Later,

NASA and Defense Department officials reaffirmed that the MOL did not violate the

September 1963 space station agreement. The MOL, they said, was not a space

station as defined by the agreement because it did not represent a future spacecraft

"larger and more sophisticated than Gemini and Apollo." Therefore, it did not

require a joint recommendation as a "national" project submitted for presidential

approval. It would be a military program directed by the Air Force ."

The fact that the Defense Secretary had forcefully stressed the MOL as an Air

Force-directed project suggests that he remained sensitive to the service's continued

pressure for a military manned space role and to its concerns after the series of program cancellations and "reorientations" during the past year. From the Secretary's

point ofview, an Air Force MOL made good sense because, unlike Apollo, it would

be based on Gemini, which offered the advantage ofproven technology and use of

the Titan III rather than NASA's Saturn IB . It also would keep the Defense Department active in the exploratory stage for the national space station . Air Force leaders

clearly considered the MOL the first step to a permanent place for military man-inspace activities ." On the other hand, the Defense Secretary in December 1963 only

authorized feasibility studies for the laboratory. The Air Force would have to

establish convincing mission requirements before receiving approval for system

production. Overthe next twentymonths, the Air Staff and Air Force Systems

Command responded with organizational initiatives and intense study ofsystem

capabilities and potential mission functions.

The Air Force found itself reasonably well prepared when McNamara awarded it

the Manned Orbiting Laboratory. Hoping for approval of its national orbital space

station proposal, the Air Staff had been assessing organizational options since

August 1963 . That August General Ferguson urged Vice Chief of Staff General

William F. McKee to provide a space station focal point in response to new organizational actions byboth the Defense Department and NASA. The Defense Department

had established a Deputy Director for Space, and NASAhad under consideration a

special management structure for its space station program. Impressed with General

128
Colonel Schultz would support both Under Secretary ofthe Air Force McMillan and

Alexander Flax, who succeeded McMillan as Assistant Air Force Secretary for Research and Development, on the Air Force side, andAlbert C. Hall, the Defense

Department's new DeputyDirector for Space."'

A month after Secretary McNamara's decision, General Schriever proposed that

he head a new MOLoffice at Air Force Systems Command headquarters to serve as

"management agency" between the west coast Space System Division program office

and the Office ofthe Secretary of theAir Force. Although Under Secretary McMillan

found favor with Schriever's proposal, initially he pursued other options . First, he

moved to upgrade and redesignate Colonel Schultz's position to that ofthe Office of

the Assistant to the Deputy ChiefofStaff for Research and Development for the MOL

Program in orderto accommodate the expected high degree ofinter-agency and

interservice coordination. Later, on 18 January 1965, he and Air Force Secretary

Zuckert created the newoffice ofSpecial Assistant forMOL under the Secretary's

direct supervision and supported by a MOLPolicy Committee . Finally, General

Schriever received more responsibility than he first requested when he became head

ofa new MOLprogram office established at the Secretarial level under special security

directives. The organizational evolution ofthe MOL's management structure reflected

increasing high-level interest in the laboratory's mission. By mid-1965 it had become

part ofthe sensitive national space reconnaissance effort. 101

The long project definition phase, from December 1963 to August 1965, suggests

the difficulty the Air Force faced in establishing convincing military missions for its

astronauts to perform in space. It called on seventeen contractors to assess subsystems and experiments for possible incorporation in the MOL's mission . Areas

examined included navigation, communication, observation, and biomedicine . Yet

proposed mental and physical health studies, as well as experiments to determine if

man could enhance the results produced by automated and semi-automated

equipment, failed to convince the Defense Secretary of MOL's cost effectiveness,

especially compared with automated spacecraft performing the same functions . 101

During 1964, however, the Defense Department added two reconnaissance tasks

involving radar and camera assembly and operation in space. The MOLlaunch site

shifted from Cape Kennedy to Vandenberg Air Force Base, California, in order to

conduct high-inclination launches needed for intelligence collection over Soviet

territory. With the additional requirements for inspecting non-U.S . satellites when

theypassed in view and for ocean surveillance to meet naval concerns, the Defense

Secretary found the MOLsufficiently important. Eventually, the requirements called

for fifteen primary and ten secondary experiments. 101

On 25 August 1965 President Johnson announced approval of the MOLfor fullscale development with an initial budget of $150 million . The project involved three

129
time the project's configuration differed somewhat from McNamara's description in

December 1963 . The laboratory canister now measured 41 feet long by io feet wide and

weighed 14,000 pounds, with the reconnaissance payload comprising 5,ooo pounds

of the total 25,ooo-pound system. Once in orbit, the two astronauts would move

through a specially constructed hatch into the laboratory, where one section housed

pressurized living quarters and the other the experiments section with the reconnaissance telescope . The camera's lens would measure six feet in width, with a resolution

between six and nine inches depending on atmospheric conditions Aftercompleting

their 3o-day mission, the astronauts would close the laboratory, move back into the

Gemini B capsule, and separate from the canister for the flight to earth and an ocean

recovery. The laboratory would be left to burn up on reentering the atmosphere . The

Air Force expected to launch the first offive MOLs in early t968 114

At the decade's midpoint, Air Force leaders had renewed cause for optimism . It

seemed that the service at last had a manned spaceflight project that would reach

operational status. They confidently predicted that the laboratory's test of man's

usefulness in space would ensure a permanent role for manned military spacefaring .

By mid-decade the Air Force had also established a more effective working relationship with both the Defense Department and NASA.

Following criticism ofAir Force space planning and programming by its chief

scientist, both the Air Staff and the Office of the Secretary of the Air Force moved

to develop closer rapport with the Office of the Secretary of Defense . Lieutenant

General James L. Ferguson, Deputy Chief of Staff for Research and Development,

Under Secretary McMillan and Assistant Secretary for Research and Development

Alexander Flax led the way through many informal meetings with DDR&E's Harold

Brown and his staff. As a result, Air Force space planning became more practical

and realistic-and more modest. In late September 1963, when the Air Staff's

Director of Plans proposed revising the 1962 Five-Year SpaceProgram, General

Ferguson recommended the Air Force forego another tedious official effort to

define space goals and programs . He argued that the work involved in preparing the

1961 Space Plan and the 1962 studies had not been worth the effort and the acrimony

that resulted . He also noted that the current proposed draft revision to the 1961

plan, now termed "USAF Space Objectives," offered no new space goals, thereby

suggesting the soundness of past Air Force thinking on space. He reminded the Air

Staff ofthe major headway achieved, largely through his office, in creating a more

favorable attitude toward Air Force space issues in the Defense Department. Why

take unnecessary action that might derail improving Air Force-OSD relations? The

Air Staff persisted, however, and in the spring of 1964 General LeMay approved the

"Space Objectives" paper. Yet, as a sign that relations between DDR&E and the Air

130
disapproved by the Defense Department."'

General Ferguson also referred to Project Forecast as offering nothing new on

space. If so, this long-range projection ofthe Air Force's research and development

requirements, which took place under General Schriever's direction from March 1963

to February 1964, provided what an official Air Force history termed"the most

credible Air Force planning document on space yet." `06 It proposed "a balanced

military space program" of systems necessary to support earth-based operations,

studies of space-based "offensive" proposals, and advanced technical programs

to improve launch vehicles and spacecraft subsystems. Taking into account the

existing funding constraints, Project Forecastprojected a "realistic" annual budget

ofjust over $2 billion during the next five years. The more modest proposal also

reflected the new reality ofAir Force-Defense Department approaches to the military

space program."'

Following the August 1965 decision to proceed with development of the Manned

Orbiting Laboratory, Defense Department pronouncements remained encouraging,

funding support continued, and NASA provided impressive assistance largely

through the joint Manned Space Flight Policy Committee (MSFPC). In an agreement signed by Secretary McNamara and Administrator Webb on 14 January 1966,

the MSFPC superseded the Gemini Policy Planning Board as the central joint

planning and monitoring mechanism for Projects Gemini, Apollo, and the Apollo

Applications program. Under its auspices, NASA furnished the Air Force a wealth of

data, material, and experience for use in MOL development. This included three

Gemini spacecraft, test capsules, a simulator, ground equipment, and subsystem

hardware, as well as training aids, Apollo ships and tracking stations, and NASA

engineers and technicians ."'

The Air Force could point to significant progress in the MOL development program. In November 1966, the Air Force conducted successful tests with a smaller,

simulated Gemini capsule that included nine on-board experiments, launched by a

Titan 111C . By this time, the experiments had increased the total weight to 30,000

pounds, which called for developing a more powerful Titan booster, the Titan HIM.

With its seven strap-on solid-fuel boosters producing a total thrust of3 .2 million

pounds, the booster could launch the heavier spacecraft into polar orbit . By 1967

planners had completed design work on the basic Gemini-Titan MOL configuration,

aswell as the newwest coastlaunch complex, and had selected for training twelve

astronauts from the Air Force, Navy, and Marine Corps. Although Air Force

Secretary Harold Brown doubted the Air Force could achieve its new projected

initial launch date at the end of 1969, expectations remained high that the Air

Force would receive its $boo million fiscal year 1969 budget request to complete

the Vandenberg complex and final necessary MOL components."'
"Great Society" social agenda diminished support for the national space program

across the board. Both Defense Department space programs and Project Apollo

suffered reduced budgets . In the competition for scarce resources, space generally

and the MOL particularly became convenient targets for the budget cutters . Space

represented a sizable twenty percent of the Defense Department's research and

development budget. OftheAir Force budget, astronautics programs comprised onethird ofthe total, and halfofthis involved the MOL, the costliest project unrelated to

the war in the Air Force budget for research and development ."'

Cost-conscious critics also claimed that unmanned space systems could perform

the MOL's experiments just as effectively at lower cost . Others raised the old cry of

duplication with NASA's space exploration programs. Indeed, back in 1964, prior to

President Johnson's announcement, the MOL had encountered considerable opposition during reviews by the President's Science Advisory Council and the Bureau of

Budget. They concluded that NASA already had a major interest in orbiting a space

station, while the military proposal seemed too small for the stated operational

mission, and unmanned instrumented satellites could perform the functions identified more inexpensively. Charges ofduplication became more persistent bythe late

196os, when NASA embarked on a large space station project as the centerpiece ofits

post-Apollo applications program . Although NASA and Defense Department officials

argued thatboth the MOL and a civilian station would conduct necessary experiments

that would not duplicate each others' efforts, critics remained unconvinced. A national

poll taken in mid-July 1968 indicated that the majority ofAmericans thought the space

program not worth the annual $4 billion price tag."'

Lowerfunding levels resulted in schedule "stretch outs," delayed milestone target

dates and, ultimately, increased costs . Congress cut $85 million from the Air Force

fiscal year 1969 request, which meant that final expected costs now totaled $2 .2

billion rather than the fiscal year 1969 prediction of $1 .5 billion . The Johnson

administration's fiscal year 197o defense budget that the Nixon administration inherited contained $576 million for the MOL, but the new Secretary ofDefense,

Melvin R. Laird, faced with continued high Vietnam war costs, targeted the MOL for

reduction following a major review ofthe project. He chose to eliminate the fifth

scheduled flight at a savings of $22 million and then cut an additional $31 million .

This decision would delay until mid-1972 the first manned flight, leaving a total cost

of $3 billion, twice the initial estimate. By June 1969, the administration determined

additional defense cuts, and chose to cancel the MOL rather than eliminate competing satellite projects."' In his announcement on 1o June 1969, Deputy Defense

See Appendix 3-4.

132
program was initiated, the Department of Defense has accumulated much experience in unmanned satellite systems for purposes of research, communications,

navigation, meteorology.""' As Secretary Laird reaffirmed shortly thereafter, "these

experiences as far as unmanned satellites are concerned have given us confidence

that the most essential Department of Defense space missions can be accomplished

with lower cost unmanned spacecraft .""' The field of manned spaceflight now was

left for NASA to exploit .

Immediately following the decision, the Air Force began closing down the project

that by mid-1969 had cost $1 .4 billion . Like its experience with the Dyna-Soar's

termination a half-decade earlier, the Air Force salvaged a number ofimportant

elements for future use . One proved to be designation of the Vandenberg launch

complex for future west coast Space Shuttle launches, while another involved the

transfer of data and equipment to NASA for use in what became its Skylab space

station operation . Most importantly the research experience gained from work on

the Dyna-Soar and the MOL would prove instrumental in development ofthe new

recoverable booster system-the Space Shuttle." s

An End and a Beginning

Termination of the Manned Orbiting Laboratory signaled the death knell ofAir

Force efforts to make manned spaceflight the center of a space-oriented military

service . Although NASA's Gemini and Apollo programs included a number of

military astronauts and experiments, the utility of military man-in-space activities

remained untested.

Critics like retired Air Force Lieutenant General Ira C. Faker declared that

"cancellation. . .concedes to the Russians control of space." I " Yet for other Air Force

leaders, space represented abstract goals and assets that drained scarce operational

funding from terrestrial needs. In the MOL's aftermath, former NASA Associate

Administrator and now Air Force Secretary Robert Seamans knew spaceflight

operations and requirements intimately. He nonetheless pointed to the shortcomings of conventional forces and the important requirement for F-15 fighters, C-5

transports, and an upgraded air defense posture . "The cost ofa manned [space]

system," he said, "is too great to be borne at this time." The Air Force, he said, must

focus on modernizing its tactical and strategic forces rather than exploit the potential of space for future capabilities ."' In effect, by decade's end, budgetary pressures

and the impact ofVietnam compelled the Air Force to return to more traditional

institutional interests . However desirable improved communications and navigation might be, space projects seemed more a luxury than a necessity.

On one level, Air Force manned spaceflight enthusiasts could look back on the

decade of the 196os as a graveyard of false optimism. High expectations at the onset

133
Department and the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, the Air Force

emerged second best. Its campaign for more responsibility in the national space

program diminished in the wake of NASA's Mercury-and later Gemini-successes

and the growing detente between the United States and the Soviet Union. At the

same time, elaborate, thoughtful efforts to formulate an acceptable Air Force Space

Plan and a long-range development program received no blessing from a Defense

Department determined to prohibit offensive systems in outer space and to put

the brakes on spiraling space research and development costs by enforcing rigid

mission requirements . The Air Force's man-in-space pretensions suffered most of

all from skeptical defense officials increasingly who were obliged to rely on cooperative efforts with NASA.

An integrated national space program implied a mutually supportive relationship

between civilian and military space agencies . Air Force leaders had hoped to make

permanent NASA's early dependence on the "executive agent" for NASA support. Yet

the lunar landing mission precipitated rapid growth in the civilian agency's responsibilities, independence, and funding. As a result, the Air Force's military manned

spaceflight proposals became imperiled, and the service could never remove itself

from NASA's shadow. Sensitive to public criticism ofmilitary encroachment on

NASA's space exploration prerogatives, the administration reigned in aggressive Air

Force space advocates and publicly questioned the usefulness of military manned

space activities compared with automated satellites . By the end of 1962, the Air

Force campaign for an ambitious, Air Force-led space program lay in shambles.

Air Force leaders responded by establishing closer, more effective working relationships with both the Defense Department and NASA. The price proved to be

acceptance of a more modest space program without the schemes for antisatellite

and antimissile orbiting space systems . Because the latter did not conform to U.S .

space policy, the Pentagon elected to develop earth-based weapons instead. The Air

Force, nevertheless, retained its man-in-space "mission" throughout the 196os.

Although compelled to forego Dyna-Soar and implement experiments only as part

of NASA's Gemini and Apollo projects, approval of the Manned Orbiting Laboratory

in 1965 seemed to promise an operational system by the end of the decade. Although

President Johnson consistently supported the development effort, spiraling costs,

schedule slips, and cost-effective satellites ultimately doomed the space laboratory.

At this point, the Air Force's space posture reflected changes within the service .

Gone from the scene was General Schriever, long the service's most aggressive

campaigner for Air Force space interests . In a sense, his retirement in 1966 confirmed the transition to the more modest and "practical" approach to military

space. His able successor as commander ofAir Force Systems Command, General

Ferguson, proved more accommodating as an advocate of space interests within the

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the changing state of space and missile development. By late 1966 General Ferguson

and his staff decided that their west coast space and missile organizations should be

reconsolidated . The Ballistic Missile Division's responsibilities had declined

considerably with completion of most site activation work. As for the Space Systems

Division, it never realized the potential General Schriever envisioned for it in the

spring of 1961 . NASA had garnered the bulk of the manpower and funding, while

Secretary McNamara maintained severe limitations on defense research and development projects . On 1 July 1967, the Air Force created the Space and Missile

Systems Organization (SAMSO) in place of the separate divisions ."'

Yet, if the Air Force's space fortunes appeared to have plummeted at the end of

the decade, the reality of space achievements proved very different . In 1969, President Richard Nixon established a Space Task Group to assess the nation's postApollo space requirements . Of the various options examined, it recommended

development of a Space Transportation System (STS) based on a reusable launch

capability. Earlier agreements between NASA and the Defense Department had

ensured a joint military-civilian effort as part ofthe integrated national space

program. Soon referred to as the Space Shuttle, its final configuration would reflect

Air Force requirements . The development ofthe Space Shuttle also would precipitate a contest for operational responsibility among Air Force major commands,

which would become a factor in quickening the pace for creation of an operational

space command."'

Unmanned defense-support space systems represented another element in the

evolution of a separate space command. Throughout the 196os, the Air Force focus

on its high profile man-in-space objectives overshadowed the growing importance

of unmanned, instrumented satellites and the elaborate space infrastructure that

had emerged to support them. In defending termination of the Manned Orbiting

Laboratory program, Secretary Laird stressed the progress made in unmanned

systems ."' In effect, the end of the Air Force program for a manned space presence

cleared the path for the dominance of unmanned military spacecraft with their

important operational applications. By the late 196os space programs increasingly

moved from the realm of research and development to the operational arena where

space could provide important support to traditional tactical as well as strategic

mission areas. Although the dreams of a military man-in-space presence seemed

over automated spacecraft proved to be making the "new ocean" an arena for

military support applications and force enhancement.

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CHAPTER 4

From the Ground Up:

The Path from Experiment to Operations

n the decade ofthe 196os the Air Force turned its plans for military spacefaring

into functioning systems . While manned spaceflight remained the centerpiece of

the Air Force space agenda, the plans and programs for unmanned, automated

satellites developed in the last Eisenhower administration now became reality. Communications, navigation, weather, and surveillance spacecraft came of age during

the era that spanned the Kennedy, Johnson, and Nixon administrations .

Although the Defense Department proved unwilling to support the broad-based,

Air Force-led military space program advocated by its leaders, the Air Force

nonetheless forged ahead with development ofspacecraft and the infrastructure to

support them. The rapid pace of technological development over the course of the

decade made possible more sophisticated instrumentation for these spacecraft .

Equally important, developments in rocket boosters and the Air Force's efforts to

achieve a more powerful, standardized launcher fleet produced reliable space

boosters with greater lifting capacity capable of placing upper-stage vehicles like the

Agena D and its satellites into geosynchronous orbit . Increasingly complex and

larger satellites carried multiple payloads and performed a wide range ofoperational

functions in space. At the same time, engineers succeeded in extending the lifetimes

of satellites in orbit, thereby reducing the number of spacecraft needed. To support

expanding satellite and booster capabilities, the Air Force created an elaborate space

infrastructure oflaunch facilities, tracking and control networks, and research and

development offices and laboratories . Taken together, the enormous growth in
Even though it could never achieve sole responsibility for military space, the Air

Force found itself at the center of this fundamental transition . Critics rightly

bemoaned the fragmented nature ofmilitary space responsibilities and organization

that developed in the late 195os and i96os and that produced unnecessary delays,

confusion, and severe security restrictions . General Bernard Schriever and other Air

Force leaders valiantly attempted to have the Air Force assume ARPA's potential role

as the sole military space agency equivalent to NASA on the civilian side . The

Defense Department disagreed, and pursued a policy of tri-service management of

space development in the name of cost-effectiveness and service cooperation rather

than contention. Although the Air Force had achieved the dominant military space

role through its authority to develop and launch military space systems and provide

support to NASA, its more ambitious agenda would remain unrealized. As a result,

by default, Air Research and Development Command and its successor, Air Force

Systems Command, the Air Force's research and development organization,

retained operational responsibility for the majority of space programs and systems

for the Air Force and other space agencies. This set the stage for the intra- and

interservice conflict over space roles and missions that would occur in the 1970s .

Nevertheless, a fragmented military space program did not prevent the military

space community-led by the Air Force-from compiling an enviable record of

accomplishment. By the early 1970s military space dividends had become increasingly apparent at least to commanders who benefited from space-based systems in

the Vietnam conflict and elsewhere . Instrumented earth satellites now offered the

promise of providing the revolutionary applications predicted by space visionaries

many years earlier.

Artificial Earth Satellites Become Operational

Seeking Global Communications-From Courier andAdvent to the Defense Satellite

Communications System (DSCS) . The Second World War demonstrated the essential

military need for electronic communications of longer ranges, greater security,

higher capacities, and improved reliability. Orbiting earth satellites first proposed

in 1945 by Arthur C. Clarke offered a revolutionary means ofmeeting these requirements. The British science fiction writer had suggested placing three satellites in

geosynchronous orbit around the earth's equator. Equally spaced, they would put

nearly every area on the earth within line-of-sight of one ofthe satellites ; the

spacecraft would receive signals from Earth and retransmit them back to Earth by

means of solar power. Clarke's concept of synchronous repeater communication

satellites attracted serious military interest, but remained only a theoretical possibility until technology could provide effective spacecraft and the boosters to place

them in orbit .'

13 7
early 1950s the Navy also successfully bounced voice messages off the moon, and by

the end of the decade had created two-way voice transmission between Washington

and San Diego, then Washington and Hawaii using the earth's natural satellite . The

Navy's project Communications by Moon Relay represented the nation's first

operational space communications system and, except for navigation, the initial

military application employing a satellite, in this case a natural one?

After considering a number of proposals, the Defense Department's Advanced

Research Projects Agency (ARPA) in July 1958 assigned the Army Project SCORE

(Signal Communications by Orbiting Relay Equipment). On 18 December of that

year an Air Force Atlas B booster launched the active (rebroadcasting) satellite into

low-earth orbit, where on very high frequency (VHF) it broadcast President

Eisenhower's recorded Christmas message . The Army followed this achievement

in October 196o with the successful launch of its Courier delayed-repeater communications satellite, which operated at ultra high frequency (UHF) in low-altitude

(90- 45o nautical miles) orbit. Meanwhile, the Air Force contracted with MIT's

Lincoln Laboratory to produce 48o million hair-like copper dipoles, which, under

Project West Ford, were launched on 9 May 1963 and reflected radio signals from

an orbit nearly z,ooo nautical miles above the earth. Although initially scientists

worried about potential interference with their radio telescopic observations, the

dipoles ultimately proved benign, degraded rapidly, and three years later had

completely disappeared .3

In the late 1950s military planners took another step on the road to translate into

reality Arthur Clarke's dream of a global satellite communications system . In 1958

ARPA directed the Army and Air Force to plan for an equatorial synchronous

(strategic) satellite communications system, with the Air Force responsible for

booster and spacecraft, and the Army for actual communications elements aboard

the satellite as well as on the ground. The program initially consisted of three

projects : two, Steer and Tackle, involved medium-altitude repeater satellites ; the

third, Decree, called for a synchronous repeater satellite using microwave frequencies . In September 1959, the Secretary of Defense transferred communications

satellite management responsibility from ARPA to the Army. Six months later, in

February 196o, the Defense Department combined the three projects into a single

program, Project Advent, and that September assigned it to the Army. In the

meantime, it became apparent that neither the Army nor any other single service

would have overall management responsibility for an operational military satellite

communications (MILSATCOM) capability, because in May 196o the Defense

Department combined the strategic communication systems of the three services

under a Defense Communications System (DCS) run by the newly created Defense

Communications Agency (DCA) .'

138
pound solar array-powered satellites, stabilized on all three axes, with the first group

to be placed in a 56oo-mile inclined orbit by Atlas-Agena B vehicles. The second set

would achieve synchronous equatorial orbits when launched by the Atlas-Centaur

booster combination . But Advent suffered from cost overruns, inadequate payload

capability, and excessive satellite-to-booster weight ratios . At the same time, technology had advanced to the point where smaller satellites of500 pounds or less

could perform the same mission effectively. Advent's problems compelled Secretary

of Defense Robert McNamara to cancel the program on 23 May 1962. 6

With Advent's demise, Defense Department officials turned their attention to

two alternatives that the Aerospace Corporation had been studying for the Air

Force. In the summer of 1962 Secretary McNamara sanctioned the first Air Force

proposal, which proposed randomly placed, medium-altitude (approximately 5,000

miles), nonstabilized satellites weighing loo pounds each. He assigned the Air Force

Systems Command's Space Systems Division responsibility for developing the

spacecraft and communications payload and satellite operations. Unlike Advent,

responsibility for orbiting elements would not be divided ; the Air Force would

handle spacecraft development and launch, while the Army's Satellite Communications Agency received authority to handle only the ground communications segment. Now termed the Initial Defense Communication Satellite Program (IDCSP),

this would be another interservice project in which the Defense Communications

Agency would coordinate Air Force and Army efforts to ensure compatibility. At

the same time, the Air Force received permission to continue studies on a second

alternative, which called for a future, stabilized synchronous system, later designated

the Advanced Defense Communications Satellite Program (ADCSP) .'

Progress toward full development of IDCSP proved difficult . In the spring of 1963,

the Air Force received industry proposals for program definition studies based on

using the Atlas-Agena D as the launch booster combination . Characteristically, the

McNamara Defense Department required numerous studies and evaluations before

funding an expensive new program, but the main reason for delay involved the new

Communications Satellite (COMSAT) Corporation, established by Congress in early

1963 . Before authorizing a more realistic MILSATCOM project to replace Advent,

Secretary McNamara opened discussions with the COMSAT Corporation .

McNamara questioned why the Pentagon should fund a separate, costly, mediumaltitude MILSATCOM system if the Defense Department could lease links from

COMSAT Corporation to satisfy military requirements at lesser cost. The Defense

Department and COMSAT Corporation, however, could not agree on costs or the

need for separate military repeaters aboard the commercial satellites .' Furthermore,

the addition of military applications to a civilian system designed for use by other

countries created international concerns . On 15 July 1964, after months of fruitless

139
security and reliability.'

By August 1964, when President Johnson announced immediate development

ofa military communications satellite system, the project had undergone a major

change. The Defense Department decided to forego the medium-altitude system for

the near-synchronous equatorial satellite configuration . The major incentive for the

change proved to be the new launch vehicle under development, the Titan III,

whose greater payload and altitude capabilities offered the prospect oflaunching a

number of small satellites simultaneously into synchronous orbits . Defense officials

elected to proceed with the more ambitious program despite concerns about solar

heating at higher altitudes, the need to modify the original Philco-Ford satellites,

and reliance on a booster yet to be launched. Taking a deliberate approach to reach

synchronous orbit, the plan's first phase called for launching eight satellites into a

near-synchronous equatorial configuration at nearly 21,000 miles in altitude rather

than a more challenging synchronous orbit over 1,ooo miles higher. Planners

worried that, without "station keeping" capability, the satellites orbiting at the

higher geosynchronous altitude might drift out of the desired position."

Originally expected to function as an experimental system, IDCSP rapidly proved

its operational worth and became the first in a three-phase evolutionary program to

provide long-haul, survivable communications for both strategic and tactical users .

The first seven IDCSP satellites, relatively simple in design to avoid the problems

that had hampered Courier and prevented Advent from even getting off the ground,

went aloft on 16 June 1966 . Operating in the super high frequency (SHF) bandwidth,

weighing about loo pounds each, and measuring only three feet in diameter and

nearly three feet in height, these spin-stabilized, solar-powered satellites contained

no movable parts, no batteries for electrical power, and only a basic telemetry

capability for monitoring purposes. The configuration of each IDCSP platform

provided two-way circuit capacity for either eleven tactical-quality voice or five

commercial-quality circuits capable oftransmitting one million digital or 1,550

teletype data bits per second. The IDCSP satellite's 24-face polyhedral surface

accommodated S,ooo solar cells that provided sufficient energy to power a singlechannel receiver operating near 8,ooo megahertz, a three-watt traveling wave tube

(TWT) power amplifier transmitting in the 7,ooo megahertz range, and one 20-

megahertz double-conversion repeater . To launch the satellites, engineers placed

them in a lattice framework mounted above the final booster, from where they

would be released one at a time."

On 16 June 1966, the Titan IIIC's fourth development flight successfully launched

the first seven IDCSP satellites, along with an eighth experimental satellite designed

to perform tests of gravity-gradient stabilization at high altitudes . Placing the

satellites in almost exactly equatorial and nearly circular orbits involved the most

140
satellites . But the fairing covering the satellites and its dispenser failed, and the Titan

booster had to be destroyed eighty seconds after launch. With a redesigned fairing

in place, a third launch on 18 January 1967 placed eight satellites into nearly the

same orbits, while three additional IDCSP satellites joined their predecessors with a

launch on 1 July. The latter flight also included three experimental satellites : a Navy

gravity gradient spacecraft (DODGEi) ; a despun antenna test satellite (DATS i) ; and

the fifth in the series of important Lincoln Laboratory experimental tactical satellites (LES-5) . The final IDCSP Phase I group of eight satellites achieved orbit on

13 June 1968. With the last of the twenty-six satellites placed into proper orbit, the

Defense Communications Agency declared the system operational and changed its

name to Initial Defense Satellite Communications System (IDSCS) ."

In mid-1968, thirty-six fixed and mobile ground terminals completed the satellite

communications system . Originally designed for project Advent and later used in

NASA's commercially targeted Synchronous Communication (Syncom) satellite

program, two fixed AN/FSC-9 terminals with 6o-foot diameter antennas, one

located at Camp Roberts, California, and the other sited at Fort Dix, New Jersey,

underwent modifications and began relaying IDSCS satellite data as early as mid1968. Mobile terminals consisted of seven AN/TSC-54 terminals with 18-foot antennas and thirteen AN/MSC-46 terminals with 4o-foot antennas . Additionally, the

system included six 6-foot ship-based antennas. By the end of the decade officials

were hard at work improving reliability and increasing terminal channel capacity.

Additional ground terminal locations included Colorado in the United States, West

Germany in Europe, Ethiopia in Africa, and Hawaii, Guam, Australia, Korea,

Okinawa, the Philippines, South Vietnam, and Thailand in Asia."

Already, by 1968, the new military satellite communications system had proved its

value. A year earlier, the Air Force had established a link to Vietnam and publicly

demonstrated its capability that summer at the 21st Annual Armed Forces Communications and Electronics Association convention in Washington, D.C. During the

festivities Air Force Secretary Harold Brown spoke directly with the Deputy Commander for Air and Seventh Air Force Commander, General William Momyer, in

Saigon, South Vietnam, about that day's air operations."

The global IDSCS later became known as the Defense Satellite Communications

System, Phase I, or DSCS I . Its exceptional reliability proved a very pleasant surprise

to all involved in the project. By late 1971, fifteen of the twenty-six first-phase satellites remained operational . While several turned off after six years, as programmed,

in mid-1976 three continued to function. The initial satellite system provided the

Defense Communications Agency good service for nearly ten years. The IDSCS

design, moreover, furnished the basic configuration for the communications

satellites in the British Skynet and North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO)
Although the initial military communications satellites proved superior to

available radio or cable communications, they remained limited in terms of channel

capacity, user access, and coverage. Furthermore, military planners worried about

the vulnerability of a command and control system that involved a central terminus

connected to a number of remote terminals . The DSCS II design sought to overcome

these deficiencies . Representing what planners had envisioned for Advent ten years

earlier, DSCS II would encompass secure data and command circuits, greater

channel capacity, and radiation protection features . In 1964 Secretary McNamara

authorized preliminary work on the concept for a synchronous system offered by

the Air Force after Advent's cancellation. In 1965 the Defense Communications

Agency awarded six study contracts for concept definition . After numerous changes,

in June 1968 the Defense Department approved the concept for procurement, and

in March 1969 TRW Systems received the contract from Air Force Systems

Command's Space Systems Division (formerly SAMSO) to develop and produce a

qualification model and six flightworthy satellites that would be launched in pairs

aboard a Titan Ill . Plans called for a constellation offour active satellites in geosynchronous orbit, supported by two orbiting spares. One satellite would be positioned

over the Indian Ocean, one each over the eastern and western Pacific Ocean, and

one over the Atlantic Ocean . Again emphasizing interservice development, the

Defense Communications Agency would retain overall system management, with

the Army responsible for ground terminals, and the Air Force responsible for the

space segment, which included satellite acquisition, launch, and on-orbit operational control through the Sunnyvale, California, control facility's S-band spaceground link system."

DSCS II represented a "giant step" in technical development over its smaller,

lighter, and less capable predecessor. Each satellite measured nine feet in diameter,

thirteen feet in height with its antennas extended, weighed 1,300 pounds, and was

dual-spun for stability. An outer portion, consisting of an equipment platform,

much of the satellite's structure, and cylindrical solar arrays, was spun to achieve

stabilization . The inner section, housing X-band communications equipment and

antennas, used a motor to despin, or remain stationary while the outer portion

revolved around it, in order to keep the four communications antennas always

pointed to the earth. Two horn antennas provided broad-area earth coverage, while

two parabolic reflectors supplied narrow-beam coverage. The flexible, four-channel

configuration provided a variety of communication links for achieving compatibility with various-size terminals . It possessed capacity for 1,300 two-way voice

channels or loo million bits of digital data per second, and rechargeable on-board

batteries generated 520 watts of power to complement the satellite's eight solar

panels . The five-year design life nearly doubled that of DSCS I, and the new system's

142
Force and other users. While program officials readied the satellites for an initial late

1971 launch date, they proceeded to modify twenty-nine IDSCS ground terminals

and build additional medium and heavy mobile and shipboard terminals for use

with DSCS II ."

The orbital history of DSCS II satellites in the 1970s, beginning with launch ofthe

first pair on 2 November 1971, revealed a somewhat spotty performance record . A

Titan IIIC placed the first two DSCS II satellites into synchronous orbit, one positioned over the Atlantic Ocean and one over the Pacific Ocean. Problems occurred

almost at once, when the first satellite's on-board receiver failed to respond to command signals and the absence of any telemetry signals from the second rendered it

temporarily lost in space. Although Air Force technicians and engineers eventually

succeeded in controlling both satellites, the Pacific satellite failed after ten months

and the Atlantic satellite after nine months of operation . As a result, the Defense

Department elected to continue using the IDSCS satellites until engineers could

redesign the next two satellites . After balancing the despun platform and modifying

the power-distribution system, the second pair of satellites was successfully

launched and deployed on 13 December 1973 . By February 1974, their performance

convinced officials to declare DSCS II operational . Yet the launch of the final two

satellites on 20 May 1975 proved disastrous. When the Titan IIIC's inertial guidance

failed, the satellites deployed into low orbit and vaporized six days later during

reentry. With only two satellites now operational, the Air Force responded by

contracting with TRW for an additional six satellites of the original design and, later,

four more with 4o-watt TWT amplifiers in place ofthe 2o-watt amplifiers . Despite

another launch failure in March 1978 and continued high-voltage arcing in the

power amplifiers, by the early 198os the DSCS II constellation would not only fulfill

global, strategic communications requirements through 46 DSCS ground terminals,

but would also link the Diplomatic Telecommunications System's 52 terminals and

the Ground Mobile Forces' 31 tactical terminals . Perhaps the best example of the

satellite's durability is that DSCS It 134, launched on 13 December 1973, would last

four times longer than its design life ; and the Air Force would not turn it off until

13 December 1993 . Meanwhile, in 1974 the Air Force began designing an improved

DSCS III satellite to meet the military's need for increased communications capacity,

especially for mobile terminal users, and for greater survivability."

The Defense Satellite Communications System represented a global, strategic

communications system . While the Air Force, in DSCS II, developed an operational

strategic communications system, it also joined other agencies to produce an

operational tactical satellite communications network. The road to tactical satellite

communications took two paths. One involved Air Force activity that began in

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the Strategic Air Command's requirement for communications with its aircraft fleet

in the polar region . As noted earlier, the ARPA concept could not meet this need,

and the program became "reoriented" into three separate functions . Of the three,

Steer proved most important for the Air Force because it envisioned satellites in

polar orbit at 5,6oo miles altitude capable of providing a single channel between

aircraft and ground stations . But in the May 1962 reorientation that resulted in a

single Advent program, Steer was canceled and, soon thereafter, officials terminated

the program elements that had supported tactical communications ."

Air Force interest in tactical communications by satellite, however, did not

diminish . With the conclusion of the passive West Ford dipole program in 1963,

the Lincoln Laboratory turned its attention to active systems and began what would

become a long history oftactical experimental satellite development . In short order

MIT's laboratory produced a series of six Lincoln Experimental Satellites (LES) to

test the technology for satellite-based communications with small mobile ground

terminals . Over the life of the program, the Army and Navy participated by establishing UHF terminals on ships, submarines, jeeps and other small vehicles . The

Lincoln satellites normally hitched a ride "piggyback" as a secondary payload on

space launches . The first Lincoln satellite, LESA, for example, entered orbit as part

of a multiple-satellite payload aboard a Titan IIIA on 11 February 1965 . Of the six

satellites placed in orbit during the decade, the final two proved most significant for

future tactical operational development. By 1 July 1967, when LES-,5 joined the three

IDCSP satellites in subsynchronous orbit, technology had progressed to the point

where the scientists could produce a 230-pound satellite with solid-state equipment

capable of evaluating electronic despin logic. This proved important in developing

DSCS 11 stabilization technology. LES-5 remained operational until May 1971 .

Meanwhile, LES-6, the last experimental satellite, had been lofted into synchronous

orbit by a Titan I1IC on 26 September 1968 along with three Office of Aerospace

Research experimental satellites. LES-6 represented a major technological advance

over the LES-,5 that had been launched the previous year. Weighing nearly 400

pounds, LES-6 housed a more powerful, all-solid-state UHF communications

repeater and possessed electronic antenna despin capability. By connecting its

amplifier directly to the satellite's solar array, scientists ensured that it would not

compete for power with other equipment. Like its predecessor, LES-6 also conducted experiments to measure the electromagnetic environment in space using

a UHF radiometer.z°

A second path on the way to operational tactical satellite communications

involved a tri-service effort that, by late 1965, had agreed on producing a large

satellite that would orbit at geosynchronous altitude . It would be designed with

high-powered communications repeaters dedicated to the military UHF and super

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Defense Department awarded Hughes Aircraft Company the satellite contract.

TACSAT, as this satellite came to be called, represented "state of the art" communications technology. Measuring nine feet in diameter and twenty-five feet in height

with antennas extended, and weighing 1,69o pounds, the cylinder-shaped spacecraft

emerged as the largest communications satellite of its time and the first to be dualspun for stability. Significant electronic, structural, and mechanical advances

characterized its design and development . Generating one kilowatt of solar power,

it possessed a 40-voice channel UHF capacity and an X-band capability of 40 voice

circuits directed to a terminal on Earth with an antenna as small as three-feet .

TACSAT's solid-state components provided 350 watts of power for UHF transmissions and 40 watts for SHF requirements using two traveling-wave tube amplifiers .

Unfortunately, funding limitations restricted the program to a single satellite . As

a result, engineers and program managers conducted exceptionally thorough and

challenging tests before declaring the satellite ready. On 9 February 1969, a Titan

IIIC launched from Cape Kennedy and placed TACSAT into a near-synchronous

19,3oo nautical mile orbit above the equator. Its performance exceeded all expectations . In March, twenty ship and land stations from Bermuda to Hawaii conducted

a tri-service roll call, in which Air Force representatives successfully participated

from Los Angeles using a battery-powered 22-pound portable transmitter and a sixpound receiver. On orbit for thirty-four months before an attitude control failure

ended its operational capability, TACSAT well served the military by supporting a

number of operations, including the recovery of Apollo 9 in the Atlantic Ocean on

13 March 1969 by linking the carrier USS Guadalcanal recovery ship directly with the

White House. 21

The success ofTACSAT also intensified interest in developing a tactical communications system for the Navy that could link ships, shore installations, and aircraft .

Concept development, with Air Force participation, commenced in 1971 on a foursatellite, near-synchronous equatorial configuration that would become known as

the Fleet Satellite Communications (FLTSATCOM) Program. Although the Navy

provided funding and ground terminals, the Air Force served as the Navy's agent

in all spacecraft areas and received use of a portion of the system's capacity. The Air

Force realized that participation in the Navy's program could satisfy its long-term

need for global tactical communications for its strategic aircraft . Meanwhile, the

success of TACSAT could not prevent the program's termination on the basis of high

cost . After several reconfigurations, the project reemerged as the Air Force portion

of the FLTSATCOM. In effect, the Air Force Satellite Communications (AFSATCOM)

System would use current and planned FLTSATCOM spacecraft to provide global

communications for strategic Single Integrated Operations Plan (SIOP) forces . The

planners expected to launch the first of the four satellites in the late 1970s ."

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ever-increasing number of users . Along the way, they would have to fend off more

attempts from cost-cutters to combine the nation's civilian and military communications systems . Nevertheless, despite the rocky course, communications satellites

had proven their value, and a global network of tactical and strategic space-based

communications appeared on the horizon . By the early 1970s, the Air Force had

begun to fulfill the dream ofArthur Clarke and the designers of Advent for pointto-point worldwide communications by placing sophisticated communications

satellites in synchronous equatorial orbits .

Watch on the Weather-From TIROS to the Defense Meteorological Satellite Program

(DMSP) Meteorological satellites comprise a second functional category of artificial earth satellite support to tactical and strategic military operations. Like Arthur

Clarke and other space visionaries, dreamers and scientists had also envisioned

orbiting satellites that could observe and report on weather phenomena from space.

Although military officials had long recognized the importance of weather data for

military operations, they often remained unable to gather needed information with

conventional weather equipment over land and sea controlled by the enemy during

conflicts and normally inaccessible during peacetime . Moreover, significant weather

conditions frequently originated over water, where total coverage proved lacking,

and spotty reports from ships or aircraft remained inadequate. In the aftermath of

the Second World War, military authorities recognized the potential for weather

reporting offered by "earth-circling" artificial satellites . As the 1946 Rand report

predicted, "the observation of weather conditions over enemy territory" represented

a most important kind of satellite observation .

14

By 1961, the Air Force, largely through the Aerospace Corporation, studied the

requirements for military weather satellites . Such satellites could provide photographs of cloud characteristics and their distribution for flight planning . Yet what

appeared below the cloud cover, along with atmospheric temperatures, pressures,

and wind velocities and directions, usually remained less susceptible to satellite

measurements . At the same time, too much photographic information might

saturate data processessing capability. Satellites might provide the perfect solution

to these challenges, but only if scientists and engineers could develop capable

sensors and supporting equipment ."

If technical problems presented military planners with one dilemma, civilian

satellite operations already underway created another. NASA had received authority

to develop weather satellites for all government users. It led the way with the lowaltitude Television and Infra-Red Observing Satellite (TIROS) for the Weather

Bureau. The successful launch of the 273-pound TIROS Iby a Thor-Able II booster

on 1 April 196o from Cape Canaveral, Florida, opened a new era in meteorology.

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While TIROS Iwas establishing the feasibility of satellites for global weather observations, officials from the Departments of Defense and Commerce and from NASA

met to consider development of a single weather satellite system that could satisfy

the needs ofboth the military and civilian communities . Such a program would

require civilian management to accord with the national policy of the peaceful use

of space. After agreeing in principle, the Panel on Operational Meteorological

Satellites by April 1961 had developed a plan for a low-altitude spacecraft termed

the National Operational Meteorological Satellite System (NOMSS). But the NOMSS

did not satisfy military requirements for coverage, readout locations, timeliness,

operational flexibility, and security. Specifically, TIROS did not provide coverage

of high-latitude and polar regions, while the satellites' cameras pointed to the earth

little more than twenty-five percent ofthe time and observed specific earth areas at

different times every day. Moreover, data transmission and processing weaknesses

could not allow rapid operational data use. Reminiscent of the communications

satellite issue, the Defense Department worried that political leaders, who viewed

the weather satellite program as an example of the nation's peaceful space and

foreign policies, might not allow such satellites to be available for military use in

times of international tension. Although Nimbus, the second-generation weather

satellite developed by NASA and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, improved upon many TIROS deficiencies, it proved to be a large, three-axis

stabilized spacecraft that the space agency relegated to research use ."'

As a result of these problems, early in 1963 the Aerospace Corporation recommended that the Air Force develop a dedicated military system, and the Defense

Department agreed . The main emphasis would be on cloud-cover photography, but

planners expected to add more sophisticated equipment when it became available .

Later, when civilian weather satellites improved their capabilities and could satisfy

most military requirements, the Defense Department continued to prefer a separate

system responsive to the "dynamic" needs of the military. As a result, the Air Force

embarked on the first segment ofwhat became known initially as the Defense

Satellite Applications Program (DSAP), or Program 417 . Because the Air Force

weather satellite program began with the mission of providing specific weather data

to support Strategic Air Command and National Reconnaissance Office (NRO)

requirements, the project remained classified until 17 April 1973, when Secretary

of the Air Force Dr. John L. McLucas decided that the Defense Department's

decision to use satellite weather data in the Vietnam conflict and to provide it to

both the Commerce Department and the general scientific community warranted

declassification of the DSAP mission and release of some of its performance data. In

December 1973 the Defense Department changed the name to the Defense Meteorological Satellite Program (DMSP) .z'

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feet in height and five feet in diameter, the twelve-sided spacecraft produced daytime visual and nighttime infrared weather photographs with resolution of onethird and two nautical miles, respectively. From polar, sun-synchronous orbit, two

satellites transmitted weather data both early in the morning and at noontime to

readout stations in Washington state and Maine, and from there to the Air Force's

Global Weather Central facility at Offutt Air Force Base, Nebraska . Along with

furnishing tactical weather information to Vietnam mission planners, the satellites

passed auroral data to the Air Force's Cambridge Research Laboratory and the

National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration ."

By the early 1970s, the Air Force had launched four series of military weather

satellites, each more capable than its predecessor. By the middle of the decade the

Air Force prepared to launch the first of its fifth block of DMSP satellites with the

Thor-Burner 11 booster pairing. This new generation of polar orbiting satellites,

known as Block 5D, represented a major technological leap over previous models .

Weighing 1,140 pounds and measuring four feet in diameter and twenty feet long,

they tripled the size ofthe earlier satellites . Designed to provide both day and

nighttime very high quality weather pictures, they also contained three times the

number of special sensors. Most important among the latter proved to be an

upgraded Operational Linescan System (OLS) to provide cloud-pattern images.

A new integrated design that combined the satellite and upper stage of the booster

created substantial weight savings. This made possible the use of redundant

components which would increase the operational lifetime of the satellite from

nine to as many as twenty-four months. 29

Along with major advances in satellite capability came increased complexity, and

problems with satellite stabilization and other technical difficulties led to questions

about the system's reliability, its higher costs, and predictable scheduling delays .

During the 1970s, DMSP also would face critics who sought to cut costs by combining the two parallel low-altitude weather satellite systems . As with the communications satellite issue, Defense Department officials relied on much the same argument to successfully withstand the pressure. To better retain a dedicated weather

satellite system, the Air Force in 1973 sought, and achieved, active Navy and Army

participation. After four years of discussion among the services, DMSP became a triservice program. 10

Despite developmental problems, no one could doubt DMSP's important

contributions to military operations. The success of the initial program convinced

officials to broaden the satellites' SAC-oriented mission to include tactical weather

support . Their confidence proved justified when, in the late 196os, planners in

Vietnam relied extensively on DMSP data for conducting combat operations, while

others counted on weather satellite data to provide accurate hurricane warnings

148
a century earlier.

The Questfor Precise Location-From Transit to Navstar/Global Positioning System

(GPS). Navigation satellites represent a third major functional area of space applications that came of age by the early 1970s. Throughout history, one's location on

the earth and the ability to navigate from one point to another have remained

essential requirements . For the military commander, whether in the air, at sea, or on

land, there can be no more important questions requiring answers than: where am I

and where am I going on the route selected? Early navigation involved simple

pilotage, the process ofdetermining position using observable landmarks to move

from point to point. Ancient mariners also used the positions of the sun, moon,

planets, and stars as reference points and developed instruments such as the

astrolabe and quadrant to provide basic measurements in latitude. Celestial navigation became increasingly accurate once the chronometer appeared in the eighteenth

century to calculate longitude. Since that time improvements in sextants, compasses

and other instruments have enabled aircraft and ships to determine their positions

on the globe within a mile through celestial navigation. But mariners needed an

answer to the dilemma of cloud cover and dense fog that often made celestial

navigation impossible."

The answer came in the 19205 with the development of radio, which led to

various techniques of radio navigation, first based on using a radio receiver with a

simple loop antenna to calculate the radio signal's direction and relative bearing to

the transmitter. Later, experimenters relied on the difference in time of arrival of a

signal from two correlated stations . Position is determined by the intersection of

two hyperbolas produced by the time differences in arrival of the signal at the

receiver . One of the most effective hyperbolic systems appeared early in the Second

World War, when MIT's Radiation Laboratory developed LORAN (long range

navigation), which used synchronized pairs of transmitters at different locations to

produce measurable time differences for aircraft at great distances from the transmitter. Accuracy could reach approximately a fifth of a mile at a range of i,ooo

miles. But LORAN and similar radio navigation techniques were two-dimensional

systems, designed to determine latitude and longitude only, not altitude or velocity

of the aircraft . Moreover, weather disturbances and ionospheric conditions made

low-frequency radio waves subject to errors, while high frequency transmissions

depended on line-of-sight capabilities and the synchronization of ground stations .

Artificial earth-circling satellites, on the other hand, could provide ideal platforms

for radio navigation transmitters.

On 13 April i96o, an Air Force Thor-Ablestar launched from Cape Canaveral,

placed a 120-pound Navy Transit IB satellite into a loo-mile altitude, circular polar

149
on Doppler measurements. Scientists from the Johns Hopkins Applied Physics

Laboratory (APL) had discovered that measuring the Doppler shift in frequency of

Sputnik's continuous-wave transmitter provided sufficient data for determining

the complete orbit of the satellite . Conversely, knowing such satellite information,

termed its ephemeris or almanac, one could establish precise positions on Earth

using the same Doppler calculations. Transit satellites provided position accuracy

to about Goo feet, which met the Navy's need for accurate location of slow-moving

ships and ballistic missile submarines. But the Transit system proved too slow and

intermittent-and two-dimensional-to satisfy the more demanding requirements

for precise positioning of high-speed aircraft and ground-launched cruise and

ballistic missiles .

32

The answer would prove to be the Global Positioning System (GPS), which

would improve the Transit approach and supply a three-dimensional system to

provide position, velocity, and altitude by a process closely related to the LORAN

technique for measuring time differentials . The initial concept for a modified

LORAN-type system involving altitude together with latitude and longitude appeared in a i96o study prepared by Raytheon Company scientists to support a

mobile version of the Minuteman intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) force .

As described by one of its creators, Ivan A. Getting, the new system, called MOSAIC

(Mobile System for Accurate ICBM Control), "used four 3000-MHz (S-band) continuous-wave transmitters at somewhat different frequencies, with their modulation

all locked to atomic clocks and synchronized through communications links . "' 3

When Getting left Raytheon to become the first president of the Air Force's nonprofit Aerospace Corporation, he supported further research on this concept and

the challenges associated with a satellite navigation system applicable for tactical

aircraft and other vehicles moving rapidly in three dimensions.

By 1963 the Aerospace Corporation's engineers and scientists convinced the Air

Force that the path to accurate measurement lay in calculating distances to satellites

with known positions. That October the Air Force charged the corporation to

pursue its satellite ranging study, now termed Project 621B (Satellite System for

Precise Navigation), with support from Air Force Systems Command's Space

Systems Division in nearby Inglewood. From the start such a system would include

the capability of supplying accurate, all-weather position data to an unlimited

number of users anywhere on or near the surface ofthe earth. Planners believed

they could achieve position accuracies within fifty feet in three dimensions (latitude, longitude, and altitude) . At the same time, the system had to be cost-effective .

By mid-1966 successful studies of this satellite navigation concept led the Air Force

to award study contracts for system hardware design to Hughes Aircraft Company

and TRW Systems . From 1967 to 1969 additional studies envisioned a global network

150
prise four oval-shaped clusters extending thirty degrees on either side of the

equator . Because the satellites would be placed in orbit periodically during the

development phase, the system could achieve a limited operational capability well

before the entire system deployed."

Meanwhile, the Air Force work stimulated the Navy to continue its own advanced

navigation research. In the mid-196os Roger Easton of the Naval Research Laboratory developed a system he called Timation, for Time Navigation, based on using

precise atomic clocks. In 1967 and 1969 the Air Force launched Navy Timation

satellites carrying sophisticated crystal oscillators and rubidium atomic clocks,

which transmitted UHF signals for ranging and time transfer. By 1971 the Navy and

RCA, its main contractor, proposed a system of 21 to 27 satellites in inclined eighthour orbits . Earlier the Army had proposed its own system called SECOR (Sequential Correlation of Range). In 1968 the Defense Department organized a tri-service

committee, later called NAVSEG (Navigation Satellite Executive Committee), to

coordinate the various projects ."

Tests of operator equipment at White Sands Proving Ground in 1971 and 1972

using ground and balloon-carried transmitters achieved accuracies within fifty

feet . Yet the Defense Department proved reluctant to approve full development

of the expensive, technically ambitions Air Force system . In late 1972 the satellite

navigation program received a new leader, Colonel Bradford W. Parkinson, who

opened talks with the Navy to combine the Air Force's Program 621B and the

Navy's Timation . On 17 April 1973 William P. Clements, Deputy Secretary of

Defense, called for a joint development program, termed Defense Navigation

Satellite Development Program, with the Air Force acting as executive agent. By

September 1973 a unified program adopted the Air Force signal structure and

frequencies and the Navy's satellite orbits. The satellite orbits would be raised to

7,500 miles altitude to produce twelve rather than eight-hour periods . The system

would also use atomic clocks, which the Navy had already successfully tested in its

Timation program. By December, Secretary Clements had authorized the first in

a three-phase development effort. The initial four-year period comprised a foursatellite configuration in 10,5oo NM twelve-hour orbits to validate the concept .

On 2 May 1974 the Air Force renamed the planned system the Navstar Global

Positioning System (GPS) . 16

In the coming years, GPS development would be beset by critics who worried

about the vulnerability of the satellites, the susceptibility of the receivers to jamming, or the possibility of an enemy using the system to its own advantage . The

global economic recession of the 1970s also made it difficult to obtain Defense

Department funding that seemed more available for weapon systems than for

defense support systems . Even so, by the early 1970s the Air Force found itself
Surveillance from Space-From Vela Hotel and the Missile Defense Alarm System

(MIDAS) to the Defense Support Program (DSP). In many ways, surveillance from

space for missile detection and early warning represents the most important spaceapplication function in the military space program . By the early 196os the outlook

for space reconnaissance proved immensely successful . On the international level,

all nations came to accept the principle of"open skies" with right of overflight

through space, while negotiations between the United States and Soviet Union

produced international agreements prohibiting weapons ofmass destruction in

outer space. On the technical level, engineers and scientists demonstrated that

satellites in synchronous equatorial orbit would remain above the same point of

land, because the earth rotates beneath the satellite at the same rate as the satellite

travels in its orbit. With the advent of solid-state microelectronics, satellites could

collect vast amounts of data by means of increasingly powerful sensors, and rapidly

transmit to ground receiving stations information that could be made available to a

global network of users in near-real time. By the early 1970s such operations would

become increasingly routine s '

Space reconnaissance involved the so-called "black world" of highly classified

national space programs that, since 1961, were outside the purview of direct Air

Force management responsibility. When the Defense Department terminated the

Air Force Samos reconnaissance satellite program in 1962, it left the space reconnaissance field to the increasingly successful, CIA-Air Force CORONA project under

the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO). Although the Air Force furnished

personnel, boosters, and infrastructure support for the CORONA effort, the highly

classified project continued as a national reconnaissance effort, outside mainstream

Air Force space activities ." The Air Force, however, directed and managed two other

important space surveillance satellite programs. MIDAS, or Program 461, involved

developing an effective early warning satellite to detect the launch ofballistic rockets

using infrared radiometers . The other, Vela Hotel, comprised a space-based system

to detect nuclear/thermonuclear detonations in the atmosphere and outer space. It

provided the "space watch" necessary to ensure compliance with the limited nuclear

test ban treaty of 1963 and supported a variety of disarmament initiatives . In effect,

it became a crucial element of the "national technical means" for verifying compliance with nuclear weapons agreements.39

The perceptive Project Rand report of 1946, which considered the military applications for surveillance satellites, called attention to "the spotting of points of impact of bombs launched by us [the United States] as one major type of observations

provided by satellites .""" The Vela program altered this prediction by directing

sensor attention to nuclear detonations in space in all locations. Serious efforts

152
hearings in April ig6o. These discussions prompted ARPA to develop the Vela program to detect all types of nuclear testing . The Atomic Energy Commission (AEC)

and the Defense Department, through ARPA, managed the program jointly. Vela

comprised three segments . Vela Uniform focused on underground or surface

nuclear detonations using seismic techniques, while Vela Sierra involved groundbased detection of nuclear explosions above the earth's surface. Vela Hotel, the third

element, served as the "watchman" for space-based detection of nuclear bursts in

the atmosphere and outer space. Vela Hotel's challenge from the start was to be able

to discriminate between nuclear detonations and natural background solar or

cosmic radiation."

Under ARPA's direction the Air Force became responsible for providing Vela

Hotel the boosters and spacecraft . The Atomic Energy Commission laboratories

furnished the instrumentation and Lawrence Radiation Laboratory the sensors.

On 22 June 1961 ARPA authorized a test program of five Discoverer/Project CORONA

Atlas/Agena launches of two Vela spacecraft each at three-month intervals . Planners

scheduled the initial launch for April 1963. Vela proved to be an exceptionally wellmanaged program, and only twenty-eight months elapsed between program

approval and data received from Vela Hotel sensors. Built by TRW, the spacecraft

themselves measured 58 inches in diameter and weighed about 500 pounds . The

intriguing Vela shape, an icosahedron, consisted of a solid with twenty equilateraltriangle faces and twelve vertices to allow X-ray detectors to view more than half a

hemisphere. Other detectors appeared at the vertices and inside the spin-stabilized

satellite . Orbiting at 6o,ooo miles altitude and spaced 14o degrees apart, the spacecraft's powerful four-watt transmitter sent 256 data bits per second to sixty-foot

ground antennas by means of dipole antennas . In addition to its main function,

additional instruments determined background radiation levels and fluorescence

produced by nuclear blasts 41

Not surprisingly, the Vela "treaty monitors" made their initial appearance shortly

after the United States ratified the Limited Nuclear Test Ban Treaty. On 16 October

1963, an Atlas-Agena B lifted the first two Vela satellites into a 67,ooo-mile circular

orbit at thirty-eight-degrees inclination . A second pair followed on 17 July 1964 and

a third the following year. The launch success and on-orbit reliability of the first six

satellites convinced planners to cancel the final two launches and modify the fourth

and fifth pairs for atmospheric surveillance . Expected only to remain operational for

six months, the initial Vela satellites operated for a period of five years. The fourth

and fifth earth-oriented pairs became operational in 1969 and 197o and functioned

superbly, well beyond their predicted eighteen-month lifespans . To the relief of all

involved in the program, the sun's X-ray bursts did not produce an excessive number of unrecognizable false alarms in the Vela sensors. 41

153
more sophisticated satellites, with the last pair, the eleventh and twelfth in the series,

launched in 1970 . The Vela program demonstrated that a complex system could be

developed and successfully deployed in a period of only five years, then turned over

to contractor management for an additional five years of"routine" operations. In

the 1970s Vela satellites gave way to nuclear detectors placed on other Air Force

satellites . As part of a defense policy "of launching fewer but larger spacecraft and

using them for multiple functions," officials redesignated the nuclear detection

system the Integrated Operational Nuclear Detonation Detection System (IONDS),

and in the 1970s sent detectors into space aboard Defense Support Program early

warning and GPS navigation satellites ."

The Defense Support Program (DSP) succeeded the MIDAS missile detection and

early warning space watch program in the late 196os. Unlike Vela Hotel, MIDAS

experienced problems from its inception . MIDAS relied on advanced electronic and

cryogenic technology to move beyond the visual spectrum to the spectrum of much

longer infrared wavelengths . By recording heat emissions from objects on Earth,

infrared radiometers in aircraft could produce thermal pictures during darkness

and identify camouflaged targets . MIDAS envisioned using polar-orbiting Agena

satellites with infrared scanners mounted on a rotating turret that scanned the earth

continuously to detect ICBM exhaust flames within moments oftheir launch.

Initially, planners expected to launch MIDAS satellites into polar orbits at 300 miles

altitude, but the high-intensity background radiation from sunlit clouds and other

phenomena convinced officials to raise the altitude to 2,000 miles. Even so, the

challenges remained formidable."

The MIDAS story illustrates a number of complexities faced by Air Force space

planners determined to develop a much-needed but technologically challenging

system during the McNamara era . Where, for example, was the balance between

keeping a program in the study phase, or the development phase, before deploying

it as an operational system? Where was the point beyond which the value of the

data produced by the system failed to justify the high cost of its development,

deployment, and operation? How did the Air Force achieve the proper boosterpayload combination during the advance of technology and changing satellite mission requirements? The approaches to these questions normally found the Air Force

operational commands favoring early operational capability for MIDAS and, as a result ofearly failure, the Defense Department preferring a more deliberate, researchoriented focus. As a result, MIDAS experienced a rocky development road, often

appearing to end in premature cancellation of the project. Nevertheless, MIDAS established the groundwork for its incredibly successful successor, DSP, which would

become the central component in the nation's global missile warning network.

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program in August 196o, MIDAS' technical difficulties convinced Defense Department officials to reemphasize technical development . Air Force leaders, concerned

about the growing Soviet ICBM threat, lobbied hard for an early operational date for

the infrared detection system . That fall General Laurence S. Kuter, the commanderin-chief of the North American Air Defense Command (NORAD), and the commander of the Air Force's Air Defense Command (ADC), Lieutenant General J . H.

Atkinson, urged Chiefof Staff General Thomas White to authorize an expedited

and expanded MIDAS development program. If the Joint Chiefs of Staff were to

approve the preliminary MIDAS operational proposal of February 196o, which had

raised the ire ofArmy and Navy representatives, NORAD would receive operational

control and ADC designation as the "using Air Force command." General White

reminded the commanders that not only the operational plan awaited action by the

Joint Chiefs of Staff, but the basic MIDAS development plan had yet to receive

Defense Department approval . He convinced DDR&E chief Herbert York to

authorize two radiometric tests aboard upcoming Discoverer/Project CORONA

flights . The planners hoped that these experiments could answer the basic question

surrounding the future of MIDAS: could the infrared detectors distinguish between

missile radiation in the boost phase and high-intensity natural background radiation? Meanwhile, in September 196o, Dr. W. K. H. Panofsky of Stanford University

headed a panel of the President's Scientific Advisory Committee, which concluded

that the MIDAS concept remained sound and that every effort should be pursued to

overcome engineering problems and produce an operational system by 1963 . 4

Early in 1961, following a considerable number of program revisions, planners

at Air Force Systems Command's Ballistic Missile Division continued work on a

"final" development plan that excluded any reference to operational funding or

capabilities in favor of concentration on research and development. This dichotomy

pitted Air Force commands, including Air Defense Command, that favored accelerated satellite development and early deployment against the Air Force research and

development community and an Office ofthe Secretary of Defense whose worries

about technical feasibility and high costs led them to favor a more cautious approach. It would characterize the course of MIDAS development throughout the

196os. The "final" MIDAS development plan appeared on 31 March 1961 . It scheduled twenty-seven development launches rather than the twenty-four proposed

earlier, with initial operational capability set for January 1964. Meanwhile, the Joint

Chiefs of Staff and Secretary of Defense on 16 January 1961 approved the operational

plan that assigned MIDAS responsibilities to NORAD and the Air Defense Command. In mid-March Air Defense Comand authored a proposed operational plan

calling for a constellation of eight satellites spaced in two orbital rings to ensure

continual coverage of the Soviet landmass . Data from the sensors would be trans155
month satellite lifespan, but by mid-June 1961 Under Secretary of the Air Force

Joseph Charyk balked at authorizing an operational configuration without additional infrared sensor data from forthcoming flights . Operational and logistic

planning priorities gave way to emphasis on demonstrating acceptable early

warning techniques."

During the summer of 1961, Harold Brown, the Kennedy administration's new

DDR&E chief, conducted an extensive review of the MIDAS program for Secretary of

Defense McNamara. He predicted that, ultimately, engineers could solve severe

problems associated with system reliability and the detection ofboth low- and highradiance missile emissions, but he raised doubts about the system's ability to detect

small, Soviet Minuteman- and Polaris-type solid-fuel missiles . He estimated the

warning time for a potential high-radiance liquid-propellant ICBM attack at five to

twenty minutes . Was the additional warning time worth the effort required to solve

the technical problems and the estimated $1 billion price tag for operational

capability, not to mention the $200 million needed for annual operations? At this

time Secretary McNamara was reassessing the broader concept ofhow the country

should respond to an enemy attack . If the nation's leaders chose not to retaliate on

warning of a missile assault, but to rely primarily on the ICBM second-strike

capability, the additional strike aircraft made available by a MIDAS alert would

prove of little value. Not surprisingly, the Air Force vigorously countered by

showing that ten minutes of additional warning time would guarantee that fourteen

percent of the Strategic Air Command bomber force could become airborne, while

fourteen minutes would raise this figure to sixty-six percent ."

The technical and political uncertainties, along with Air Force criticism, compelled Brown that summer to appoint a study group headed by John Ruina, to

examine the issues of MIDAS technical capabilities and mission importance.

Although the Air Force considered the Ruina study just one more in a long line of

investigations that had delayed MIDAS development, General Schriever went to the

heart of the matter when in the fall of 1961 he wrote Air Force Chief of Staff General

Curtis E. LeMay that "complete satisfaction can only be achieved by a conclusive

demonstration of system feasibility through an orbital flight test that detects and

reports the launch ofballistic missiles and has a reasonable orbital life :" Such capability appeared far in the future. MIDAS experimental flights occurred as part of

Project Discoverer/CORONA . The first two flights, on 26 February and 24 May 196o,

produced little significant data. The first launch failed after an explosion occurred

upon separation of the second-stage Agena from the Atlas booster, while MIDAS 2's

sensors operated successfully for two days from its 3oo-mile-high orbit before its

communications link failed . The third MIDAS spacecraft, launched on 12 July 1961,

returned data from its experimental infrared telescope for only five orbits before

156
operated for only seven days without meeting any of the flight

s objectives .

Even before the Ruina group issued its report, the Office of the Secretary of Defense deleted all fiscal year 1963 MIDAS nondevelopmental funds and refused to

sanction an operational system. The Ruina report deepened a mood of doom and

gloom. Issued on 3o November 1961, it faulted the current MIDAS design as too

complex for reliable use, expressed skepticism regarding the system's ability to

detect solid-propellant missiles, and criticized the Air Force for focusing on

immediate operational capability to the detriment of essential research and development. The report recommended a major reassessment to produce a simplified

MIDAS with more attention directed to research and development . In December

Brown directed the Air Force to implement the group's findings. Referring to the

report's "serious allegations," General LeMay reacted sharply by requesting several

alternate development proposals and by working to defer the DDR&E directive. Air

Force Systems Command's Space Systems Division moved quickly to form an

advisory group under Clark Millikan of Cal Tech to assess the Ruina report. The

Millikan group faulted the Ruina panel for being unaware of the scope of available

test data, and for erroneously analyzing the cloud-background-clutter data in

assessing the infrared sensor's capability. A simplified system, the group asserted,

could be operational before 1966.'o

Of the various plans Air Force Systems Command prepared, the most convincing

one stressed research and development and more test flights . During February and

March 1962 Air Staff members repeatedly met with DDR&E officials to convince

them to accept the Air Force proposal, which Space Systems Division completed

on 29 March 1962. It called for as many flights as possible leading to an initial

operational capability between mid-1965 and mid-1966. It also projected a fiscal

year 1962-1963 budget increase from the programmed $290 million to $334 million .

Then, on 9 April 1962, the Air Force finally found itself in a position to break the

logjam on MIDAS development. On that date a fifth MIDAS flight achieved polar

orbit and began transmitting data which demonstrated that it could discriminate

between cloud background and rocket exhaust plumes . The very next dayAir

Force Assistant Secretary Brockway McMillan requested that DDR&E approve the

29 March plan. In response, Brown released funds to sustain the program through

the fiscal year, but he declined to authorize development .

In fact, the DDR&E chief sponsored another review of MIDAS. This time

Stanford's Panofsky reappeared to chair another panel. Unlike his favorable 196o

conclusion, this time he agreed with the Ruina panel's findings and criticized the

Air Force for proposing operational prototype flights when basic missile detection

capability remained in doubt. Harold Brown notified the Air Force that he would

not release further funds until MIDAS proved capable of detecting low-radiance

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Secretary McNamara told Air Force Secretary Zuckert that the Defense Department

would conduct a "full-scale" analysis of MIDAS in light of the importance of early

warning and the seriousness of the Soviet ICBM threat . At the same time, Brown

criticized the Air Force for focusing on an early operational capability without first

solving basic questions about low-radiance, noise background, and system reliability. By the summer of 1962, MIDAS supporters had little reason for optimism, and

in early August, Secretary McNamara announced reduction of MIDAS to a limited

research and development program because of its expected slow development, high

costs, available early warning alternatives, and the decreased value ofearly warning

occasioned by the growing importance of hardened missile sites compared to the

strategic bomber force . The Defense Department subsequently cut funding for fiscal

year 1963 to $75 million and for fiscal year 1964 to $35 millions'

By the spring of 1963 it appeared that MIDAS might be doomed to extinction as

another system too ambitious technologically to warrant operational development .

Then, in May 1963, the fortunes of MIDAS seemed to make an abrupt recovery along

the lines forecast by General Schriever two years earlier. On 9 May an Atlas-Agena

launched Flight Test Vehicle 12o6 from Vandenberg Air Force Base into a nearperfect 2,ooo-mile- altitude circular orbit . Over the next six weeks, the satellite

vindicated its supporters by detecting nine launches of solid-propellant Minuteman

and Polaris as well as liquid-propellant Atlas and Titan missiles . A subsequent flight

on 18 July confirmed "real time" detection of an Atlas E launch as well as the ability

to monitor Soviet missile activity. Above all, the flights convinced officials that

MIDAS could provide real-time data on missile launches without interference from

earth background "noise." The successful flights prompted Secretary McNamara to

reevaluate the possibilities for tactical warning and the future of MIDAS. 52

Although at this time Air Force Systems Command responded with four alternative proposals designed to achieve an operational system, the Air Staff adopted a

more flexible response that called for a prototype approach on the assumption that

neither current technology nor funding constraints warranted an entirely operational system. The Air Staff Board recommended that Air Force Systems Command

improve system tracking and launch site identification techniques as well as the

real-time detection of low-radiance, short-burning solid-fuel missiles, and that it

consider additional defense applications. Most interesting, the Air Staff, in the name

of cost-effectiveness, favored the development of more simplified, more reliable

satellites with longer orbital lifespans ; such satellites also would orbit at higher

altitudes to provide greater coverage of the earth with fewer spacecraft . On

1 October 1963 the Chief of Staff approved a three-phase flight test program

extending throughout the remainder of the decade with initial fiscal year 1965

funding set at $loo million .13

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medium-range ballistic missiles (MRBMs), while later in the month the Office of

the Secretary of Defense cut the Air Force proposed fiscal year 1965 figure of sioo

million to $1o million. In early 1964 Brown agreed to release only half ofthe fiscal

year 1964 MIDAS budget allocation, explaining that the "drastic reduction" resulted

from alternative early warning systems and anticipated high deployment costs for

MIDAS. Nevertheless, he agreed the recent flight successes warranted continuing the

program, but with four objectives beyond its initial strategic warning function . His

list included reliability, global coverage, launch point determination, and real-time

detection of nuclear detonations as well as SLBM and MRBM launches . If the Air

Force reoriented the program according to his guidelines, MIDAS could expect

increased funding support in future. The latest modification of the MIDAS effort,

the DDR&E chief admitted, envisioned a major deviation from a system originally

designed to detect a mass raid of Soviet missiles ."

Given the budget cutback, the Air Force remained concerned about the program's future. Already scheduled flights would have to be canceled resulting in

termination of contracts, substantial investment losses, and a four-year hiatus between the series of radiometric and system detection flights . Throughout the spring

of 1964, Air Force officials negotiated with DDR&E to reach an acceptable compromise. By late spring the Air Staff proposed a minimal program designed to preserve

both near- and long-term objectives by the increasingly prevalent method of

slipping the flight schedule and accepting greater technical risk."

Budget cuts and skepticism within Defense Department circles continued to plague

the infrared-detection satellite early warning program. In late 1964 and throughout

1965 the Defense Department's proposed fiscal year 1966 through 1969 budget reductions prompted major efforts by the Air Staff and Air Force Systems Command's

Space Systems Division to keep MIDAS afloat without having it revert to development status . Their dilemma did not benefit from delays caused by Lockheed's

difficulties with sensor components, a labor walkout at payload producer Aerojet

General Corporationand launch site availability problems at Vandenberg Air Force

Base. As revised, the MIDAS program in the latter half of the decade called for two

phases of tests . Between 1966 and 1968, flights would conduct a variety of experiments in three stages at altitudes from 2,000 to 6,ooo miles; in 1969 and 1970 more

tests and a final operational assessment would occur with satellites launched by

Titan IIICs to a 6,500-mile orbit .

16

MIDAS remained a test program. Although Program 461 had shown conclusively

that satellites could provide early warning of a missile attack by detecting and

tracking missiles of all sizes, in the late t96os mounting costs, low budgets, technical

problems-and ambitious expectations-outpaced the original MIDAS program.

159
geosynchronous orbits, where fewer satellites could cover more ocean and earth

areas . As a result, DDR&E in August 1966 approved Program 949. Originally

designed to monitor the Soviet Fractional Orbital Bombardment (FOB) threat, it

soon came to be regarded as the replacement for ground-based warning systems

such as BMEWS. As the MIDAS successor, it could ensure simultaneous warning of

all three potential space and missile threats-ICBMs, FOBS, and SLBMs. In the spring

of 1969 a breach in security eventually led officials to rename Program 949 the

Defense Support Program (DSP)."

In November 1970, a Titan IIIC launched the first TRW-built DSP satellite into

an elliptical, rather than the intended synchronous-altitude, orbit over the Indian

Ocean. Referred to as "the best mistake we ever made," the spacecraft successfully

transmitted data on American and Soviet launches to tracking stations as it circled

the globe every five days. In April 1971 the newly completed overseas ground station

at Woomera, Australia, took control of the satellite when in view, while at other

times the Satellite Control Facility at Sunnyvale, California, assumed control. An

additional ground tracking station at the Buckley Air National Guard Base near

Denver, Colorado, joined the system in late 1972 . By this time a second DSP satellite

had been successfully lofted into synchronous orbit. In early 1973 a third early

warning infrared satellite joined the constellation in synchronous equatorial orbit

over the western hemisphere, where it helped monitor the SLBM threat from the

Atlantic Ocean."

DSP satellites represented a major technological leap over their MIDAS predecessors . Weighing 5,200 pounds, the DSP spacecraft measured thirty-three feet in

length and nine feet across. Four solar panels covered one end of the cylindershaped satellite which housed the electronics . The other end housed a twelve-foot

telescope with an array of 2,000 infrared detectors . In contrast to MIDAS, the DSP

satellite itself rotated, at six revolutions per minute. Planners expected it to far

exceed MIDAS in both coverage and reliability."

In the months and years ahead, Air Force planners would worry about the

challenge of developing DSP computer software which could receive and process

an incredible amount ofdata then transmit the results almost instantaneously to

users worldwide. They also remained apprehensive about loss of coverage due to

adverse sensor angles over the pole and uncovered nadir holes, and they lobbied for

additional satellites to provide redundant capability. Citing budget constraints in

the 1970s, Defense Department officials proved unresponsive . They effectively noted

the unexpected, outstanding performance achieved by the three-satellite network

that immediately came to serve as the bedrock of early warning protection against

the Soviet and "nth" country missile threats . With DSP performing space watch, a

surprise attack became next to impossible."

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protection against surprise attack by providing a space watch for detecting, tracking,

and monitoring satellites and debris from low earth orbit to deep space through its

network ofground-based sensors and control and data processing facilities . Operational responsibility for SPADATS had been a contentious issue between the Air

Force and the Navy in the closing years of the Eisenhower era . On 7 November 1960

the Joint Chiefs of Staff acceded to Air Force wishes by assigning NORAD operational control and the Continental Air Defense Command (CONAD) operational

command of SPADATS. In January 1961 the Secretary of Defense confirmed the

decision, and the Air Force followed by making the Air Defense Command responsible for technical control of Spacetrack, the Air Force segment of the surveillance

system . In mid-February 1961, the 1st Aerospace Surveillance and Control Squadron

was activated to operate the new SPADATS data collection and catalog center as part

of NORAD's Combined Operations Center at Ent Air Force Base, Colorado . The

latter assumed the responsibilities previously handled by the Interim National Space

Surveillance and Control Center (INSSCC) data filtering and cataloguing center at

the Air Force's Cambridge Research Center in Massachusetts ."

The Air Force Spacetrack sensor network at that time included the Millstone Hill

radar in Massachusetts, Baker-Nunn satellite tracking cameras, available observatory telescopes, and a variety of research and development and missile early warning

radars. None of the equipment belonged to the Air Defense Command, and the

performance of the detection, tracking, and cataloguing network suffered severely

from accuracy, timeliness, and range weaknesses. On 1 February 1961 NORAD had

assumed operational command ofthe Navy's Space Surveillance (Spasur) east-west

minitrack radar fence and its data processing facility in Dahlgren, Virginia. During

the acceptance ceremonies, NORAD Commander-in-Chief General Laurence J .

Kuter observed that with thirty-two American and three Soviet spacecraft in orbit,

the need for a constant, accurate space watch had arrived."

Over the next few years NORAD, CONAD, and ADC worked diligently to expand

system capabilities through computerized "volumetric" track-and-scan sensors to

provide immediate detection and identification of multiple space objects . At the

same time, they also labored to expand their area of operational and ownership responsibility. By 1965 the ADC's Spacetrack Operations Center at Ent Air Force Base

received data from assigned detection fan and tracking radars at Shemya, Alaska,

and Diyarbakir, Turkey. The new Shemya FPS-8o tracking radar, for example,

proved capable ofdetecting within minutes Soviet satellites launched from Kapustin

Yar and providing highly accurate satellite positioning data to a distance of 2,500

miles . The previous year, ADC had accepted AFSC's FPS-49 long-range pulse

Doppler tracking radar at Moorestown, New Jersey, and a scanning radar and 84-

foot dish tracking radar at Trinidad, British West Indies. Although hampered by
and tracking Soviet satellites in low-inclination orbits .

Spacetrack also relied on a network of Baker-Nunn cameras at Oslo, Norway;

Edwards Air Force Base, California; and Sand Island in the Pacific for deep-space

surveillance. Far superior to electronic sensors ofthe time, the optical cameras

could record one-meter-square targets to a range of 5o,ooo nautical miles, provided

the camera operated in twilight or darkness, free of clouds, against illuminated targets . Data readout delays put the Baker-Nunn cameras in the category of contributory systems . In addition, the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System (BMEWS)

radars at Thule, Greenland; Clear, Alaska ; and Fylingdales, England, represented a

supplementary Spacetrack component. The Air Force also had under development

an FSR-2 prototype electro-optical satellite sensor at Cloudcroft, New Mexico, and

a new FPS-85 phased array radar at Eglin Air Force Base, Florida. Both sensors,

however, could not meet their programmed 1965 initial operational dates . The

Cloudcroft radar experienced technical problems that prevented it from joining

Spacetrack immediately, while a fire in January destroyed seventy-five percent of the

Eglin radar and delayed its completion until 1967. 6 '

Spasur and Spacetrack underwent continual improvements in their capabilities

to detect, track, and monitor a space population that by 1969 found NORAD's Space

Defense Center in Cheyenne Mountain observing 20,000 objects daily. By the early

197os the Air Force and NORAD exercised responsibility for nearly the entire

SPADATS sensor and control system, and they planned to monitor objects in deep

space by replacing the Baker-Nunn network with the Ground-based Electro-Optical

Deep Space Surveillance (GEODSS) System. The latter would include three optical

telescopes supported by sophisticated computer software and processing and

display equipment . Like other space systems, by the 1970s the growth in sophisticated sensors and supporting equipment served to make Spacetrack and SPADATS

increasingly responsive to operational requirements .61

A Fleet of Space Vehicles Sets the Course

While orbiting satellites increasingly provided important space-based information

for larger numbers of operational commanders and other users, their performance

remained dependent upon boosters and upper-stage vehicles capable of placing

them in the desired orbits. Available space boosters had enabled the Air Force to

achieve early space supremacy among the services, and the responsibility it received

as the "booster service" guaranteed its central space role throughout the 196os.

Before 1960, ARPA, NASA, and the Army and Navy carried out all but two of the

American space launches . In 1960, the Air Force began its dominance of the space

launch business with fourteen ofthe twenty-nine service-sponsored flights that year,

and the trend would continue. When the Air Force initiated its space program it had

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their heavier Soviet counterparts and soon were superseded by the more capable

solid-fuel Minuteman ICBM and Polaris SLBM. Nevertheless, the Thor and Atlas

would continue to provide effective, reliable space boosters for a wide variety of

unmanned space flights well into the era of the Space Shuttle.66

The Douglas Aircraft Company's Thor, measuring 65 feet in length and 8 feet in

diameter, relied on liquid oxygen and kerosene to produce 150,000 pounds of thrust

from its single main engine. It began its impressive flight history with the initial

December 1959 Discoverer/Project CORONA launch and continued to operate

primarily from the Western Test Range, at Vandenberg Air Force Base, where it

launched in a southerly direction to achieve polar orbits . The more capable 71-footlong, lo-foot-wide one-and-a-half-stage Atlas ICBM, built by General DynamicsAstronautics, could produce at lift-off 387,000 pounds of thrust from its three main

and two vernier engines . Atlas began its booster career by launching heavier

payloads from the Eastern Test Range at Cape Canaveral . Both Thor and Atlas

would remain workhorses for the Air Force for the remainder of the century. In the

i96os, the Air Force augmented its booster fleet with Martin-Marietta's Titan IIIC,

consisting of a two-stage liquid-propellant rocket core with two enormous solidpropellant strap-on motors and a "Transtage." Measuring 108 feet long by 1o feet in

diameter, this launch combination generated nearly 3,000,000 pounds of thrust and

could place up to 33,400 pounds into low-earth orbit and nearly 4,000 pounds into

a synchronous equatorial orbit . With the Titan, the Air Force possessed a booster of

vastly increased size, capable of launching a wide range of satellites into higheraltitude orbits .'

For both Thor and Atlas and their heavy-lift successor, the Titan, upper-stage

vehicles immediately became fundamental for mission success. Thor initially used

Space Technology Laboratories' Able, a modified Vanguard vehicle, consisting of an

solid upper stage and two liquid lower stages, and the improved two-stage Aerojet

Able Star, whose liquid-propellant engine was restartable in space. The Thor booster

became a favorite NASA launch vehicle for its own and foreign satellites when, in

1959, the civilian agency developed two more sophisticated solid-propellant

Vanguard upper stages, and renamed the three-stage spacecraft Delta. The Air Force

preferred to use the Agena, which Lockheed had begun developing in 1956 . More

than any other booster-satellite craft, the Agena "put the Air Force in space:'

Serving as a satellite once placed in orbit, the Agena went through several models,

with the Agena B in use by the Air Force and NASA until 1966. Seeking a basic Agena

upper-stage vehicle, Lockheed responded to an Air Force request by developing the

standard, thirty-seven-foot-long and five-foot-wide Agena D. First launched atop of

a Thor from the Western Test Range on z7 June 1962, the Agena D would continue

to serve the Air Force into the early 198os before the rocket-powered space glider,

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telemetry equipment, a standard payload console, and a rear rack above the engine

for plug-in installation of optional gear-like solar panels, "piggyback" subsatellites,

and an optional Bell Aerosystems engine that could be restarted in space as many as

sixteen times.61

The Air Force's efforts to achieve standardization also embraced the stable of

launch vehicles. It sought to emphasize similarities for the various missions while

keeping deviations to a minimum. With a more powerful booster on the drawing

board by 1961, Thor and Atlas became known as medium launch vehicles, with

Thor designated SLV-2 (standard launch vehicle) and Atlas SLV-3. Although the

small Scout booster received the designation SLV-1, it normally served NASA

mission interests . 69

The original single-stage Thor booster could support a variety of upper stages,

such as Aerojet-General's Able and AbleStar, Lockheed's Agena A and B, and

McDonnell Douglas' Delta. The standardized version included a Thor, modified

with additional tankage and an upper-stage Agena D. It proved capable of launching

1700 pounds into a 115-mile circular orbit from Vandenberg Air Force Base, or just

over 3,000 pounds from the Eastern Test Range. Later in the decade, a standard

Thor with the addition ofthree strap-on Castor solid rockets, became the SLV-2A

Thrust Augmented Thor with a 30-percent increase in payload capability. In 1966 a

further modification took place by lengthening the Thor's propellant tanks. Known

as the SLV-2H, this version demonstrated sixty-five seconds additional burning time

and a 35-percent payload capability increase over the SLV-2A. Other versions

included the Delta and Boeing Burner Il upper stages . The Thor achieved a remarkable performance record that included only three failures among 154 launches from

1962 to 1972 . In the 1970s the Air Force designated the Thor to launch the Defense

Meteorological Satellite Program (DMSP) satellites .

The Atlas booster attained an equally enviable record of accomplishment . Initially, the Air Force used Atlas D missiles with slight modifications to accommodate

the Agena upper-stage vehicle . In 1963 additional changes produced the Atlas SLV-3,

while two years later the SLV-3A appeared with propellant tanks lengthened by

twelve feet . Normally launched from the Eastern Test Range, it could place an Agena

D payload of 8,6oo pounds into a 115-mile low-earth orbit. The Atlas SLV-3D version

used a Centaur upper stage for NASA launches, and in the early 197os officials

selected it to launch the Navy's Fleet Satellite Communications (FLTSATCOM)

satellites . When the Minuteman intercontinental ballistic missile replaced the Atlas

ICBM in the mid-196os, the Air Force determined that savings could result by

refurbishing Atlas missiles from silos in the midwest rather than purchasing new

SLV-3s . Redesignated the Atlas E and F, these "wheatfield" boosters proved highly

reliable from 1967 to 1979 in support of Air Force research experiments as well as

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With the first successful launch of a Titan IIIC on 18 June 1965, the Air Force had

a booster sufficiently powerful to launch satellites into geosynchronous orbit. The

following year a Titan IIIC successfully launched the first series of IDCSP military

communications satellites into a near synchronous orbit, 21,000 miles above the

equator. In the 196os and early 1970s, the Air Force developed two other versions of

the Titan III . Originally designed for the manned orbiting laboratory, the Titan IIIB

used a lengthened core to enable it to place an 8,200-pound payload into a 115-mile

polar orbit when launched from the Western Test Range. By 1971 the Air Force had

developed the Titan IIID, which added two five-segment solid rockets to the core

but used a third-stage Agena in place of the Transtage . Intended as a transition to

the Shuttle, it operated exclusively from the Western Test Range to place payloads

weighing as much as 24,6oo pounds into a 115-mile polar orbit . On 2 November

1971, it successfully launched the first pair of 1,200-pound DSCS II satellites into

synchronous orbit ."

The success of the Titan III in the 196os vindicated its proponents who sought

to create a "DC-3 of the space age." During the period from 1964 through 1979, u1

of the u9 launches proved successful. Of these, six failures occurred with the Titan

IIIC, primarily with the Transtage portion . While Air Force leaders like General

Schriever bemoaned the micromanagement approach taken by the McNamara

Defense Department, officials in the Office ofthe Seccretary of Defense could

proudly point to the Titan's record ofboth launch and budget success . The total

development cost of $1 .06 billion proved well within estimates, considering inflation, two significant program changes, and a scheduled "stretch-out.""

By the 1970s, space launch vehicles had matured to the point where Air Force

planners could consistently count on available standard Air Force boosters for

launching substantial payloads, placing them into complex orbits, and demonstrating reliable performance . Nevertheless, with the advent of the reusable Space

Shuttle, the future appeared uncertain for the Air Force's fleet of expendable

space boosters .

Space Infrastructure Provides the Support

The integration of Air Force space systems also depended on the supporting infrastructure of booster launch centers, a tracking network and control center, and

processing centers to evaluate and transmit data to users. In the late 1950s, the Air

Force's Weapon System 117L and the many-faceted Project Discoverer/CORONA

precipitated a major expansion of space infrastructure that continued unabated

with NASA's rise in the 196os.

Two major Air Force launch centers supported the nation's satellite program

from its inception . One, the Eastern Test Range at Cape Canaveral, Florida, and

165
most wedge of a barrier island fifty miles east of Orlando on the Florida coast, the

Cape remained separated from the mainland to the west by the Banana River,

Merritt Island, and the Indian River, which comprised a portion of the Intercoastal

Waterway. The area saw little activity until the Second World War, when the Navy

established the Banana River Naval Air Station fifteen miles south of the Cape. After

the war, activity declined until the Air Force selected Cape Canaveral as the western

end ofits new Long Range Proving Ground and supported it by constructing

Patrick Air Force Base on the site of the naval air station ."

The location proved ideal for testing cruise missiles and, later, launching ballistic

missiles and space flights . Launches in a southeasterly direction avoided major

population centers by passing over islands that served as tracking stations along a

7,5oo-mile course from the Bahamas to Ascension Island in the South Atlantic to

the coast ofAfrica. As a result, burned-out missile stages and expendable boosters

avoided densely populated land areas . Moreover, with an easterly launch the earth's

rotation added greater velocity, which enabled boosters to orbit heavier loads. In the

196os the Cape underwent an enormous buildup resulting especially from NASA's

rapid expansion and the Air Force's development of the Titan III . The Eastern Test

Range became the center for Vela and communications satellite launches as well as

NASA's Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo manned flights and all American spacecraft

launched eastward into low-inclination equatorial orbits."

The Western Test Site at Camp Cooke, later Vandenberg Air Force Base, California, also began operating as a missile test base. In 1956, the Air Force selected the

Army's old Camp Cooke, which extended over twenty-five miles along the coastline

some sixty miles west and north of Santa Barbara. Used for testing ICBMs and

ICBMs, it became part of the Pacific Missile Range, which also encompassed the

Navy's Point Mugu between Santa Barbara and Los Angeles. In 1958, when the Air

Force renamed Camp Cooke Vandenberg Air Force Base, Lockheed already had

started work on the Agena upper-stage spacecraft . Officials selected the California

site for launching satellites into near-polar orbit . Missiles and reentry vehicles

launched westerly over the South Pacific and space boosters launched in a southerly

direction avoided population centers on their path into high-inclination polar

orbits, which proved essential for effective satellite coverage of the Asian landmass .

As a result, the Western Test Site became the location for the nation's high-inclination sun-synchronous surveillance missions and, from 1971, the designated location

for proposed near-polar-orbit Space Shuttle operations. Like its eastern counterpart, the western range depended on a long line of space tracking stations stretched

across the Pacific from California to the South and Southeast Asian coasts . The

Western Test Range served as the launch site for the important Samos, CORONA,

MIDAS, and DMSP satellites that required near-polar orbits ."

166
processing centers . Designated the Satellite Control Facility (SCF), it included a

global system of remote tracking, telemetry, and command stations, a central control center sited in California, and the communications links that bound together all

the equipment and software needed to track and control spacecraft during launch,

orbit, descent, and recovery."

Tracking stations functioned effectively only when satellites remained in range

ofthe ground antennas . Because this time was brief for satellites in low orbits,

ground stations were scattered widely but tied to the control center. By the end

of the i96os, the Air Force relied for its space operations on six key radio tracking

and command stations, located in 1959 at Vandenberg Air Force Base and New

Boston, New Hampshire ; Thule, Greenland, in 1961 ; Mahe Island in the Indian

Ocean in 1963 ; Guam in 1965 ; and the oldest, Kaena Point on the island of Oahu,

Hawaii, in 1958 . The last proved especially valuable in recovery of CORONA reconnaissance film capsules. During the 196os, the Air Force worked to standardize and

upgrade tracking site operations and equipment . This included use of a standard

Defense Department telemetry, command and control system designated the SpaceGround Link Subsystem, and adoption oftwo uniform dish antennas measuring

between forty-six and sixty feet in diameter that could pivot rapidly to monitor

low-earth satellites ."

The control center, the second element in the SCF network, received the designation Satellite Test Center. The Air Force's early and close relationship with Lockheed

led to locating the command center in Sunnyvale, near Palo Alto, California. The

first center in 1959 amounted to little more than several rooms with plotting boards

next door to Lockheed's computer complex in Palo Alto, where members of the

6594th Test Wing (Satellite) successfully controlled the first Discoverer flight in

1959 By June 196o the Air Force had constructed a permanent facility eleven miles

away in Sunnyvale . After another year of equipment improvements, the Satellite

Test Center could support three satellite missions at once with its two Control Data

Corporation (CDC) 1604 computers. Improvements continued throughout the

196os. In 1965 the Air Force replaced the single control room with separate rooms

for each flight . Over the next three years, the center upgraded its computer capability with five CDC 36oo and seven CDC 38oo computers to handle the increasingly

complex software programs and growing satellite population. Early advances

culminated in 1968 with completion of the so-called "Blue Cube," a new ten-story

windowless "Advanced Satellite Test Center" scheduled to handle Manned Orbiting

Laboratory flights. With cancellation of the Air Force's manned mission in 1969,

however, the Blue Cube provided controllers vastly increased capabilities to

support, twenty-four hours per day, seven days per week, real-time operations for

instrumented satellite missions . Statistics help explain the phenomenal develop167
Test Center ground stations logged 52,445 hours and made contact with more than

30 satellites a total of 60,536 times. 78

The communications network represented the third element of the Satellite Control Facility. For the initial Discoverer flight in 1959, it consisted only oflandlines,

radio links, and submarine cables that connected the Satellite Test Center with

tracking stations confined to the continental United States, Alaska, and Hawaii. In

1962 the Air Force extended to its overseas stations secure circuits capable of loo

words per minute. During the next two years, a "multiple satellite augmentation

program" provided the Sunnyvale Satellite Test Center with high-frequency radio

capability through four independent voice channels and the addition of twentyeight teletype machines, with transmission links to the remote tracking stations ."

The Satellite Control Facility's communications network underwent dramatic

improvement with the launch of the first seven military communications satellites

in June 1966. Each ofthe satellites in the Initial Defense Communications Satellite

Program could transmit 6oo voice or 6,ooo teletype channels. With the addition of

eight more satellites in January 1967, the Air Force could implement its "advanced

data system" communications net designed to support the more challenging nearreal-time command and control operations from the Blue Cube. A new sixty-foot

dish antenna located at Camp Parks Communications Annex near Oakland, California, served as the network terminus. By 1970 the Camp Parks facility passed all data

it received directly to the Sunnyvale control center over land lines and microwave

relay links . In the future, the larger, more powerful satellites of the DSCS II program

promised a wideband satellite relay communications system capable oftransmitting

1 .5 million bits of data per second. In less than a decade, the Satellite Control Facility

had proven capable of expanding to meet the challenging demands of a burgeoning

space community."

Organization Provides the Focus for Space

The rapid growth ofAir Force space infrastructure during the 196os compelled

planners to provide new, more effective organizational structures for range management, launch and on-orbit authority, payload recovery, and operational command

and control of satellite systems . With the establishment in 1961 of Air Force Systems

Command as an independent management headquarters for space and all Air Force

research and development, it came as no surprise to find organizational responsibility forAir Force space resources increasingly associated with AFSC and its focal

point for space, the Space Systems Division, and its successor organizations .

First came reorganization of the Atlantic and Pacific ranges . In January 1964,

AFSC created the National Range Division (NRD), with provisional headquarters

at Patrick Air Force Base, Florida. This followed agreement with NASA on range

168
to assign the worldwide satellite tracking network to the Air Force. The National

Range Division assumed responsibility for coordinating Defense Department and

NASA activities at both the eastern and the western launch sites, and it established a

provisional Air Force Space Test Center (AFSTC) at Vandenberg Air Force Base to

manage Pacific Range activities . In January 1964, the National Range Division also

gained the Air Force Satellite Control Facility at Sunnyvale, California. In May, the

Air Force relocated the division to the site ofAir Force Systems Command headquarters at Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland, near Washington, D.C., and redesignated the two ranges as the Eastern Test Range and the Western Test Range.

Operations at Sunnyvale, however, proved awkward, with AFSC exercising direct

control of the range, while Space Systems Division retained on-site responsibility

for launch operations. A reorganization in July 1965 reassigned the Satellite Control

Facility to Space Systems Division at Los Angeles ."

Following the establishment ofthe Space and Missile Systems Organization

(SAMSO) on 1 July 1967, which recombined Air Force missile and space functions

in a single entity, additional organizational changes served to enhance the space role

of the Los Angeles headquarters . On 1 April 1970, by forming the Space and Missile

Test Center (SAMTEC) at Vandenberg Air Force Base, California, the Air Force

centralized all launch operations at the Pacific site for the first time. By assigning

SAMTEC to SAMSO, the Los Angeles headquarters became responsible for nearly all

military space program facilities. The consolidation became complete seven years

later when, on 1 February 1977, the assignment to SAMSO of the Eastern Test Range

at long last brought all space and missile launch facilities under one organization .12

The organizational changes of the 196os helped lay the groundwork for Space

Systems Division and later SAMSO to direct the development of the unmanned

communications, weather, navigation, and early warning satellite programs that

made the military community increasingly aware of, and dependent upon, space

systems . At the same time the organizational developments enhanced the control

of a research and development command over space systems that were becoming

increasingly operational .

Vietnam Offers the First Military Space Test

Satellites first demonstrated their tactical battlefield defense support capability in

Vietnam. There, meteorological and communications satellites provided vital nearreal-time data essential for mission planning and execution . During a nationallytelevised CBS interview in May 1967, General William Momyer, the Seventh Air

Force Commander declared :

As far as I am concerned, this weather picture is probably the greatest

innovation of the war. I depend on it in conjunction with the traditional

169
the actual weather conditions are . The satellite is something no commander has ever had before in a war."

Indeed, weather satellites proved to be an invaluable feature and key innovation of

the war. Air missions in Southeast Asia often depended for success on the availability of a cloud-free environment for low-level fighter, tanker, and gunship operations . Few in number and limited by the dangers of operating in or over hostile

territory, conventional weather sources proved inadequate to the challenge. Satellite

imagery, relayed throughout the region, provided the answer.

The Air Force did not furnish the only satellite weather data for Allied forces in

Southeast Asia. In the mid-196os Nimbus satellites developed by NASA for the

Weather Bureau used their Automatic Picture Transmission capability to transmit

imagery from their sun-synchronous orbits daily between 0700 to ogoo and 11oo to

13oo hours. Beginning in 1965 DMSP imagery proved more useful to Air Force and

Navy meteorologists and mission planners . From an altitude of 450 NM, the sunsynchronous satellites furnished day and night, visual and infrared imagery consistently at 0700, 1200, igoo, and 2400 hours local time. DMSP data, however, did not

become available to the Navy until 1970, when the USS Constellation acquired the

necessary readout equipment. With timely, accurate satellite weather data available,

planners knew when the weather would break over a target area, and used nightsensor imagery to determine the extent of burning rice paddies to forewarn pilots of

likely smoke coverage . Weather information proved especially useful in the Navy's

lengthy effort to destroy the important Thanh Hoa Bridge in North Vietnam. The

Son Tay raid to rescue American POWs in 1970 also depended on satellite imagery.

In this case DMSP data provided extremely accurate three-to-five-day forecasts that

allowed the planners to schedule the raid to coincide with a break in two tropical

storms moving across the South China Sea onto the mainland ."

Communications satellites also proved their worth in Vietnam, where for the first

time satellite transmissions provided communications from a real-world theater of

operations. In June 1966, a satellite communications terminal operated from Ton

Son Nhut Air Base using the limited one-voice and one-record circuit capability of

the NASA-developed Synchronous Communications Satellite . It operated between

Saigon and Hawaii until its demise in 1967 owing to satellite drift. Improvements

arrived with the installation of two ground terminals at Saigon and Nha Trang to

support the Initial Defense Communications Satellite Program (IDCSP) . Operational by July 1967, each terminal had expanded from five to eleven circuits by

January 1968. Under Project Compass Link, IDCSP provided circuits for transmission of high-resolution photography between Saigon and Washington, D.C. As a

result of this revolutionary development, analysts could assess near-real-time battlefield intelligence far from the battlefield. On the other hand, this raised questions

170
comprised part of a vulnerable system connecting a number of remote terminals

with a single central terminus ."

Commercial systems also supplied satellite circuits to support area communications requirements. The Communications Satellite Corporation (COMSAT) leased

ten circuits between its Bangkok facilities and Hawaii, while the Southeast Asia

Coastal Cable system furnished part ofthe network for satellite terminal access

between Bangkok and Saigon . Satellite usage during the Vietnam conflict established the military practice of relying on commercial space systems for routine

administrative and logistical needs while trusting more sensitive command and

control communications to the dedicated military system ."

Communications and weather satellites brought space into the realm of combat

operations. They provided much needed real-time weather information and

communications support to battlefield commanders and planners in Vietnam, and

they linked them regionally and globally. Weather and communications satellites

established their operational value for future defense support combat-as well as

peacetime-operations.

The Military Space Community in Transition

For the burgeoning Air Force space program, the decade of the 196os represented

a transitional period in which experimental programs became effective operational

systems . By the end of the decade communications and weather satellites operated

by the Air Force provided crucial information to commanders in Vietnam. Air

Force-led engineers found themselves on the brink ofdeveloping a three-dimensional satellite navigation system that promised to revolutionize battlefield command and control capabilities. In the area of surveillance, the early 1970s witnessed

the operation ofAir Force infrared early warning satellites that immediately became

the central element in the nation's missile warning network. Already Air Forcedeveloped Vela nuclear detection satellites helped make possible verifiable nuclear

test ban treaties and potential arms limitation agreements. In this, as in more

sensitive areas of strategic intelligence, automated satellites made an invaluable

contribution to strategic reconnaissance and thereby considerably diminished the

ability of any nation to launch a surprise attack . Unmanned, instrumented satellites

had largely met the military requirements that President Eisenhower had set in the

1950s for a major missile and satellite program.

By the early 1970s military space had come of age . Both within the Air Force and

among the other services and defense agencies, the contribution of space-based

systems to the Vietnam war, as well as a growing range of peacetime defense support

requirements, led to increased acknowledgment, if not acceptance, of space operations . This, however, set the stage for a return to the intense service competition of
gj

g gy gg 

Air Force the service for military space research and development . Policy promulgated by the Office of the Secretary of Defense effectively stymied Air Force efforts

to gain sole responsibility for military space activities, while joint management did

not always prove successful-or diminish the voice of congressional critics of

separate civilian and military systems . Although interservice competition remained

muted for much of the i96os, it certainly did not disappear .

This became dear at the end of the decade when the Navy reopened the issue of

space management responsibility by challenging the Air Force monopoly on space

development . In the Navy's view, the 1961 directive had become outdated and only

served to prevent wider exploitation of space for important military requirements .

Back in 196o, Air Force Chief of Staff General Thomas D. White fended off the

Navy's Admiral Arleigh Burke by arguing that the Air Force would provide effective

leadership for the nation's space program and be responsive to the needs of the

other services . In 1970, General White's successors could point to a decade of successful, responsible management for the benefit of all the services . But with space

programs providing support to an increasing number of users throughout the

military community, the dominant Air Force position came under fire from the

other services and their allies in Congress and the Defense Department.

Unconvinced by Air Force arguments, Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird, on

8 September 1970, issued Directive 516o.32, which declared that space systems would

be acquired and assigned according to the guidelines pertaining to other defense

weapon systems . Ongoing programs, however, would remain unaffected. As a result,

the Air Force would retain responsibility for developing and deploying "space systems for warning and surveillance of enemy nuclear delivery capabilities and all

launch vehicles, including launch and orbital support operations." On the other

hand, all three services could now compete "equally" for future programs, including

"communications, navigation, unique surveillance (i.e ., ocean or battlefield),

meteorology, defense/offense, mapping/charting/geodesy, and major technology

programs." While this provision reinforced traditional naval interest in ocean surveillance and navigation and the Army's preeminence in geodesy, it left open the

question of future management responsibility and operational relationships for

communications (DSCS), battlefield command and control (GPS), weather (DMSP),

and the crucial area of "major technology programs.""

Rather than attempt to overturn the directive and fight to reclaim the Air Force

space monopoly, Air Force Secretary John McLucas wisely chose to focus on its

portent for unbridled competition in the other services and agencies. Such groups,

he warned, would likely bypass the Air Force and its vast reservoir of space resources and experience, and the resulting duplication and wastefulness would not

be in the nation's best interests . On this issue, Secretary McLucas could refer to the

172
g

ofNASA and Defense Department requirements . These would include rocket

testing at Edwards Air Force Base, California, Agena target analysis at the Arnold

Engineering Development Center in Tennessee, and the fundamental work done by

associate contractors on environmental and system testing projects, normally in

conjunction with Air Force Systems Command offices and laboratories. Highlighting the latter efforts would be the development of solid and liquid rocket technology for both NASA and the Defense Department.

Impressed by McLucas' argument, Secretary Laird in February 1971 modified

the 197o decision by directing that all space program development be coordinated

with the Air Force beforehand. The Defense Secretary's revision and the work of

Secretary McLucas and other Air Force leaders to cooperate on space defense matters helped to mute the impact ofthe original directive for the immediate future.

Nevertheless, the door now stood open to fierce competition for scarce space resources and for control of space systems increasingly important to ever-larger

numbers ofusers.

To retain its space supremacy, the Air Force now needed to get its own house in

order. Space systems demanded less emphasis on lengthy control by research and

development agencies and more focus on operational organizational and management decisions. The advent of the Space Shuttle in the 197os would compel the Air

Force to face this challenge. Development and operational control of the Shuttle

involved intense competition among Air Force commands, while interservice rivalry

and civil-military management issues remained unresolved. The Space Shuttle

would serve to crystallize the thinking of the Air Force community on space issues

in the decade ahead. Unmanned, instrumented space systems had brought space to

the operational threshold . It remained for Air Force leaders to determine the proper

place for space within the traditional Air Force.

173
CHAPTER 5

Organizing for Space:

The Air Force Commits to Space and an Operational

Space Command

n the early 197os the American space community found itself in disarray. The

post-Apollo future for civilian and military space agencies brought indecisive

space policy, uncertainty over roles and missions, and fragmented organization .

As the primary military space service with responsibility for 8o percent of the

Defense Department space budget, the Air Force reflected the weaknesses in the

national space program. For most Air Force leaders, space seemed more an element

within the research and development arena than an operational field . Many doubted

whether space programs represented dedicated Air Force programs per se. Rather,

the Air Force seemed to manage space activities for others, as part of larger triservice or joint efforts that Defense Department officials favored to lower costs and

minimize interservice rivalry. As a result, Air Force leaders and the wider Air Force

community did not make space operations a genuine institutional commitment.

A decade later, however, military space had undergone a remarkable transformation. Gone was the disarray over policy, organization, and future roles and missions .

By the early i98os, the nation boasted a clear and decisive space policy supported by

initiatives to improve and expand space programs and infrastructure to the end of

the century. Above all, the Air Force created a centralized organization for space

that committed the service to an operational rather than a research and development focus. Normalizing and integrating defense-support space missions throughout the service would become the major space objective for the future as leaders

moved to take advantage of the growing importance of space for operational forces .
the decade-long debate over the merits of detente and arms control . Both critics and

opponents of arms control agreements increasingly came to rely on space systems to

provide crucial national technical means of surveillance and verification . The

deficiencies in the space arena alarmed leaders and convinced them to support

major policy and organizational initiatives .

Air Force leaders felt compelled to reassess the importance of space for operational commanders and the service's institutional commitment to space operations.

Beginning in the mid-1970s leaders began a long process of building consensus for

some type of centralized space organization and integrating military space requirements into mission and system architecture planning. The process seemed incredibly slow and contentious to space enthusiasts, who found allies primarily within

the middle strata of the officer corps rather than the senior leadership. As a result,

it took several years of space studies and forums to create a better understanding

of space and an appreciation of its importance for corporate Air Force interests .

Space proponents received major help from the operational maturity of space

systems themselves-the Defense Meteorological Satellite Program (DMSP), the

Defense Satellite Communications System (DSCS), the Global Positioning System

(GPS), and the early warning Defense Support Program (DSP)-which, over the

course of the decade, became increasingly important throughout the defense

community. Above all, the advent of the Space Shuttle crystallized the pressure

within the Air Force for change. This, the most expensive and technologically

complex space project in the nation's history, raised important questions about

cooperation between the civilian and military space communities, the future role

of military manned spaceflight, the feasibility of exclusive reliance on a reusable

launch vehicle, and the most appropriate organizational structure for Shuttle

operations. The Shuttle precipitated an intense competition for operational

responsibility among four major Air Force commands, each ofwhich considered

itself the logical choice to become the operational space command. By the end of

the decade, the Air Force found itself in the midst of a series of important organizational changes that set the stage for the creation of an operational space command

to follow.

In this era of change and reassessment a number of space "missionaries" played

vital roles in moving space to the forefront ofAir Force interests . Dr. Halls Mark

and Lieutenant General Jerome O'Malley led the charge for an operational space

commitment, often in the face of reluctant or overly cautious senior leaders . With

the arrival of the Reagan administration in early i98i, the pace of events threatened

to outrun the ability ofAir Force leaders to control it. The overwhelming momentum for change compelled senior leaders to act before outside elements imposed

solutions that might not reflect institutional interests . The result proved to be a

175
A Space Community in Disarray

From the vantage point of the early 1970s Air Force space enthusiasts would be

hard pressed to envision an operational space command only a decade into the

future. At the national level, the budget-conscious Nixon administration responded

to the public's disinterest in major post-Apollo space initiatives by canceling the

final two Apollo lunar missions along with the Air Force's central manned program,

the Manned Orbiting Laboratory (MOL). Additionally, the President eliminated

important advisory bodies for space issues, the President's Scientific Advisory

Council (PSAC) and the Federal Council on Science and Technology, while Congress transferred space responsibilities from its standing space committees to the

more widely focused House Science and Technology and Senate Commerce

committees. The concerns of both Congress and the White House centered more

urgently on budget priorities to deal with the legacy of the Great Society's social

agenda and the incessant demands ofthe Vietnam conflict . Oil shortages following

the 1973 Arab-Israeli conflict heightened the financial crisis and set a tone of lower

expectations and malaise for the remainder of the decade . An ambitious military

space agenda could hardly flourish in this atmosphere, and the declining space

budgets during the early 197os provide the best evidence of the military space

program's woeful status .'

Disarray and disinterest best characterized the condition of military space

activities during the first half of the 1970s . Air Force commanders seemed reluctant

to accept the importance of space and to support space program initiatives during

crucial budget proceedings . Military space missions-communications, meteorology, early warning, and navigation-comprised defense support functions rather

than the traditionally more prestigious and appealing offensive operations. Moreover, while the Air Force controlled the newly-operational Defense Support Program early warning satellite network, it shared all other military satellite programs

with other civilian and military agencies or, in the case of the sensitive national

reconnaissance program, played a significant supporting role .

At the same time, the dispersed nature of space systems within the Air Force, as

well as throughout the military and the civilian space communities, created more

immediate management problems . The Office of the Secretary of Defense, for

example, through the Defense Communications Agency, often participated in daytoday management of communications satellites, while the Air Staff monitored an

increasing number of space programs and functions that normally would have been

See Appendix 3-2.

176
tively, while other government and civilian agencies often followed their own relatively independent courses of operation . The lack of central direction not only led

to management inefficiency and duplication, it prevented the creation of constituencies to effectively advocate and support space systems during the budget process.'

The fragmentation nature of the military space program in the 1970s reflected the

absence of both a comprehensive employment doctrine for space and any significant change in executive policy or military space strategy since the Eisenhower and

early Kennedy years . Military activities in space received little open attention in the

age of Apollo and the era of Soviet-American detente in the early 1970s. The Defense Department's directive of September 1970, which overturned the Air Force's

decade-old exclusive responsibility for military space research and development

programs, further fragmented operational space planning and control by allowing

each service and Defense Department component to pursue its own course. In

short, dispersed authority made it difficult to coordinate military space requirements and operational concepts from a broad, national security perspective.'

The space policy vacuum and organizational fragmentation did not go unnoticed

by interested observers . In a widely quoted article in late 1974, retired Air Force

general and NASA manager, Jacob E. Smart, accurately described the condition of

the space community.

Presently there are multiple agencies of the U.S . government engaged

in space related activities, each pursuing programs to fulfill its own

missions . This of course is proper but points up the question : Does the

sum of the individual agency's perceived roles adequately fulfill the total

national need? There is no central policy coming from the top, guiding

and coordinating these efforts .'

Given these developments, space did not acquire the status of a dedicated "Air

Force" mission or lead to a specific "user" space community. Moreover, without an

Air Force major command for space, officer career progression and space program

advocacy suffered . For many, space seemed to represent an additional level of

abstraction, one in which commanders often felt insecure about relying on supporting elements beyond their direct sight or control. As one Air Staff planner observed,

"space . . .requires first of all, a psychological adjustment to and philosophical

acceptance of the use of space assets and warfare conducted in space." Air Force

commanders needed to understand the operational importance ofspace activities

for themselves . Despite the contribution of communications and weather satellites

during the Vietnam war, an institutional commitment to space seemed far off in the

early 197os.'

Nevertheless, the space community was on the threshold of change. A number

of developments already underway would lead to a major reassessment of the

177
arms control measures and, second, the advent of the Space Shuttle. Both would

bring space issues to the forefront of the national agenda.

The National Debate over Detente and Arms Control

The debate over America's strategic nuclear policy in the 1970s took place against

the backdrop ofthe continuing shift in national defense policy from deterrence of

the 196os to the countervailing nuclear warfighting strategy of the Carter administration . The evolution in nuclear strategy paved the way for the emergence of a

reinvigorated, modernized strategic policy and force structure under the Reagan

administration's Strategic Modernization Program and centerpiece Strategic

Defense Initiative (SDI).

During the 1970s, it became clear both to strategic policy analysts and the public

alike that America could no longer take comfort in its traditional position as the

dominant nuclear superpower. By 1974 the Soviet Union had overtaken the United

States in total number of ICBMs and SLBMs, achieving a figure of 2,195 ballistic missiles in contrast to the United States' 1,71o, and appeared hard at work developing a

multiple independently targeted reentry vehicle (MIRV) capability.' Given the

alarming increase in Soviet offensive nuclear weapons, events during the decade

increasingly centered on the vulnerability ofthe Minuteman retaliatory force and

what should be done to protect it . Could the nation's traditional policy of mutual

assured destruction-or second-strike retaliation-continue to reflect the nuclear

warfighting realities of the 197os?'

To President Richard M . Nixon and his advisors, the assured-destruction strategy

seemed to offer the dilemma of the single alternative . One faced the choice of either

massive nuclear retaliation or not launching missiles at all, which could very well

amount to surrender in the nuclear age . Nixon wanted more options along the

spectrum of deterrence, and his Secretary of Defense, James R. Schlesinger, responded by focusing on flexibility and increased targeting options . Under the socalled "Schlesinger Doctrine," he developed the concept of providing "selective,

small scale options" or target packages for rapid use in a variety of nuclear contingencies along the "spectrum ofdeterrence." The Schlesinger Doctrine reflected the

concerns of many, both inside and outside of government, that the United States

should prepare more effective contingency plans for fighting a nuclear war.'

At the same time, many looked to detente and arms control agreements as offering the best hope for underpinning and establishing rough nuclear equivalence at

lower force levels and, thereby, reducing the danger of nuclear war. By terms of the

Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty (SALT) I Interim Agreement on Strategic Offensive

Weapons, signed in May 1972, the Soviet Union and the United States agreed to a

178
arsenal at 1,618 ICBMs, in contrast to the American figure of 1,054, and did not

include MIRVs. During the same month, the two sides recognized the impossibility

of protecting their countries from a large-scale missile attack by agreeing to limit

further deployment of their anti-ballistic missile systems . The Anti-Ballistic Missile

(ABM) Treaty restricted both sides to two limited ABM systems, one deployed

around the national capital, and the other at an ICBM site. The two sides formally

recognized the role of satellite surveillance by agreeing that verification would be

conducted by "national technical means . . . consistent with generally recognized

principles of international law," As John Newhouse, former Assistant Director of the

U.S . Arms Control and Disarmament Agency pointed out, "each side surrendered

any meaningful right to defend its society and territory against the other's nuclear

weapons."' In short, the ABM treaty made credible the policy of mutual assured

destruction . Yet, another provision of the treaty would prove contentious in future

years. According to Article V, "each Party undertakes not to develop, test, or deploy

ABM systems or components which are sea-based, air-based, space-based, or mobile

land-based." This proviso would seriously challenge the legality of President Ronald

Reagan's Strategic Defense Initiative . Critics ofthe arms control process, however,

bemoaned what they considered the failure of detente to prevent the establishment

of a permanent state ofAmerican strategic inferiority."

In this arena, both critics and proponents ofdetente depended on space reconnaissance and the related surveillance systems and associated warning infrastructure

to provide the so-called "national technical means" ofarms control verification .

Consequently, the nation's satellite systems and ground-based space surveillance

network became increasingly important to verify arms control compliance or to

support charges of a growing potential Soviet threat from space. Moreover, a policy

calling for flexible response required more sophisticated strategic surveillance,

warning and, possibly, active defensive systems . For administrations searching for

greater options along the spectrum of deterrence, improvement of space capabilities

would become a growing priority over the course of the decade.

Indeed, by the mid-1970s, the primary mission of NORAD, the binational U.S .-

Canada command, had become surveillance and warning of impending attack

rather than active defense, and the once elaborate air defense structure controlled

by the Air Force's Aerospace Defense Command (ADCOM) continued to decline in

terms of quality and quantity of forces as it underwent organizational restructuring.

Interceptor aircraft could not respond to ICBMs. Henceforth, space systems assumed greater importance, and ADCOM and NORAD commanders looked to space

to preserve command prerogatives-with wider implications for the future of the

Air Force space community.' `

179
commitment to develop as successor to the Project Apollo lunar program a national

space transportation system that would serve both civilian and military agencies.

The Space Shuttle represented tremendous potential with its promise of routine

access to space. At the same time, it presented enormous challenges because of its

technical complexity, high cost, and promise, as a joint civil-military program, to

satisfy both NASA and Defense Department requirements . For the Air Force, the

Defense Department executive agent for the Shuttle, the advent of the Shuttle

represented a new era of military manned spaceflight, an end to dependence on its

fleet of costly, expendable launch vehicles, and the reassertion ofAir Force dominance in the national space program. Along the way, the Air Force also found itself

compelled to reassess its institutional commitment to space if it intended to realize

its claim to space leadership. Over the course of the 1970s, the Shuttle prompted

planners to increasingly reassess space policy, technological feasibility, and optimum

organizational structures in preparation for what advocates confidently proclaimed

to be the "age of the Shuttle ."

Shortly after taking office in 1969, President Nixon, as part of his initial program

review, formed a Space Task Group to determine the best direction for the nation's

post-Apollo space program in a future beset by declining interest in space and budget constraints. In September, shortly after Apollo ii's historic July lunar landing,

the group's report outlined three long-range possibilities . The first two comprised

variations on an expensive, ambitious program to launch in the 198os a manned

mission to Mars. This would occur after first establishing a lunar base and a fiftyperson earth-orbiting space station supported by a fully reusable transportation

system to "shuttle" between Earth and the space station . The third alternative,

which involved only the space station and Shuttle, appealed to a cost-conscious

Nixon administration determined to pursue a less challenging post-Apollo space

future. Before giving formal approval, however, NASA and the Defense Department

needed to assess the Shuttle's technical feasibility, projected cost, and civil and

militaryrequirements."

For NASA, the Shuttle represented the centerpiece of its future manned space

program in the wake ofthe administration's cancellation of the final two Apollo

lunar flights and reduction of the Apollo Applications program to the Skylab minispace station . For the Air Force, initial enthusiasm was tempered by NASA's central

responsibility for Shuttle design and development and by questions about the

system's long-term benefits . At first the Air Force focus centered on the project as a

cost-effective replacement for launching future larger, heavier satellites that would

require lifting capacity greater than the Atlas and Titan expendable boosters could

provide . Very soon, however, Air Force leaders came to see in the Shuttle a multipurpose vehicle with the means of preserving the Air Force's traditional interest

180
Right: General Henry H. "Hap"

Arnold; below (left to right) :

Dr. Theodore von Kdrmdn,

chairman of the Scientific

Advisory Group; Brigadier

General Donald L. Putt,

Director of Research and

Development, Office of the

Deputy Chief of Staff for

Materiel; and Dr. Albert E.

Lombard, Jr., head of the

Research Division under

General Putt.
Above: Officials of the Army Ballistic

Missile Agency at Huntsville, Alabama:

(counterclockwise from top right) Major

General H. N. Toftoy Commanding

General ; Dr. Ernst Stuhlinger; Hermann

Oberth ; Wernher Von Braun; and Dr.

Eberhard Rees; right : Major General

Curtis E. LeMay.
Above left : Dr. Robert H.

Goddard beside his liquidfuel rocket before launch,

Auburn, Massachusetts,

16 March 1926; above right :

Trevor Gardner, Assistant

Secretary of the Air Force for

Research and Development;

below: German V-2 rocket.
Above: Atlas intercontinental ballistic missile assembly plant; below: General

Bernard A. Schriever with models of the missiles he helped develop and build.
Dr. Simon Ramo, a founder of

the Thompson-RamoWooldridge (TRW) Corporation

Dr. John von Neumann
Above: Technicians prepare a Thor

intermediate range ballistic missile for a

test launch, ca. August 1957 ; left : Model of

Sputnuk 1, the first man-made satellite to

orbit the earth; launched 4 October 1957 .
Above left : Secretary of Defense Neil

H . McElroy ; above: Secretary of the

Air Force Eugene M. Zuckert; lower

left : Secretary of the Air Force Donald

A. Quarles.
Above: President Dwight D. Eisenhower and

Chief of Staff of the Air Force General Thomas

D. White (center) view the Discoverer 13

capsule, the first object recovered from space,

at the White House; right: Ivan A Getting, one

of the creators of MOSAIC; (Mobile System for

ICBM Control), a precursor of the Global

Positioning System.
g

range systems, were critical to the

success of the NASA manned spaceflight

program. Pictured is the launch of

Friendship7with astronaut John H.

Glenn, Jr ., aboard; below: Air Force

Thor launch, ca. 1963.
Above: Aerial view of Site 11 of the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System (BMEWS)

at Clear Air Force Station in central Alaska; below: Ground-level view of a radar

fan (left) and tracking radar radome at BMEWS Site 11 .
Above: Baker-Nunn satellite tracking camera, a workhorse in the Air Force's

Spacetrack network for three decades; below: Space Detection and Tracking

System (SPAUATS)-Spacetrack Operations Center at Ent Air Force Base in

Colorado Springs, Colorado, in the early i96os.
Above: Space Defense Center at the

Cheyenne Mountain Complex in

Colorado Springs, Colorado, in

1973; right: Artist's conception of an

Initial Defense Communication

Satellite Program (IDCSP) satellite .
Above: Air Force Satellite Control

Network station at Anderson Air Force

Base, Guam; left: Secretary of Defense

Harold Brown.
Top right : Defense Satellite Communications System (DSCS) III satellite

(artist's rendition) ; right : Defense

Support Program (DSP) satellite

(artist's rendition) ; below: Defense

Support Program Overseas Ground

Station at Woomera, Australia.
Above

:.

;

:

;

:

Space

at

.
Above left : Global Positioning

System (GPS) satellite ; above right :

An F- 15 fighter carrying an airlaunched antisatellite weapon, a

system cancelled by Congress in

the mid-ig8os; left : An Air Force

Delta 11 launch vehicle lifts off

from Cape Canaveral Air Force

Station carrying a Global Positioning System satellite into orbit.
achieve a man-in-space capability, a quest that began with the aerospace plane

"lifting body" experiments of 1950s, proceeded with the ill-fated Dyna-Soar boostglide space-plane, and culminated with the MOL."

By 1972, Air Force leaders like Secretary Robert C. Seamans, Jr., chose to emphasize the variety ofservices they expected the Shuttle to provide:

The shuttle offers the potential of improving mission flexibility and

capability by on-orbit checkout ofpayloads, recovery ofmalfunctioning

satellites for repair and reuse, or resupply of payloads on orbit thus

extending their lifetime . Payloads would be retrieved and refurbished for

reuse and improved sensors could be installed during refurbishment for

added capability."

The Secretary's rationale, which became the Air Force position in the years ahead,

also encompassed the requirements of the surveillance and national reconnaissance

"black world" space programs.

Moreover, Air Force leaders quickly realized the advantages of supporting a

joint program that found NASA in the forefront . One legacy of the KennedyMcNamara era continued to be the integrated nature of the nation's space program,

which called for agreement between the civilian and military agencies on major national programs like the Shuttle . Although the Shuttle became a "NASA program,"

the civilian agency realized that Congress would not support the project unless

military requirements could be satisfied . Tactically, the Air Force let NASA promote

the Shuttle's man-in-space mission-and supply the bulk of project fundingwhile it stressed the economic advantage ofsaving up to 50 percent of projected

launch expenses by adopting for the 198os reusable boosters that, according to NASA

projections, would average 6o flights annually. Characteristically, in the 1970s NASA

would focus on its always uncomfortable budgetary battles with a parsimonious

congress while the Air Force stayed in the background and remained uncompromising on military requirements . Evolving mission needs and technological challenges

involving the most complex spacecraft yet attempted both added to the Shuttle's

checkered course of development . Design changes would lead to cost increases,

new launch-site requirements and, ultimately, schedule delays ."

Equal Air Force representation with NASA on the newly-formed Space Transportation Committee ensured that military requirements would be included in

the various contractor design studies that assessed technology, scope, timing, and

cost. From the start NASA and the Air Force differed over design and performance

specifications-most notably those for payload weight and Shuttle size. NASA

favored a cargo compartment 12 feet in diameter by 40 feet in length, but the Air

Force insisted on dimensions of 15 feet by 6o feet . Likewise, the Air Force favored

an expanded Shuttle design capable of launching a 65,ooo-pound payload into a
launches would involve heavy payloads in higher or geosynchronous orbit. This

meant that the Shuttle would need to accommodate these payloads as well as

Lockheed's so-called Orbit-to-Orbit Shuttle (OOS), or Space Tug, that would

"shuttle" the spacecraft to higher orbits and return to the orbiter. NASA, on the

other hand, preferred reduced requirements to keep down steadily rising projected

development costs that threatened to jeopardize congressional funding approval for

both the Shuttle and the agency's unmanned programs ."

Although the Air Force, fully supported by Defense Department officials,

remained inflexible on its weight and size requirements, during 1971 the two sides

reached agreement in a number of important areas. NASA responsibilities would

continue to encompass design, development, and fabrication, with the Air Force

serving as Defense Department agent responsible for military requirements . The

two agencies would act jointly to choose launch sites, with the Air Force funding a

second site, if needed, and launch rates and costs would be apportioned according

to the type of mission and amount ofsupporting equipment used. Meanwhile,

congressional scrutiny continued to compel NASA to extend design study deadlines

in order to consider ways of achieving lower development costs . By the end of the

year, NASA had decided to forego its earlier plans for a reusable, manned, flyback

booster and to accept, instead, a simplified booster design in conjunction with a

smaller, more efficient orbiter using an external, liquid hydrogen-liquid oxygen

tank. Final design specifications, however, remained unsettled when President

Nixon, with one eye on the ailing aerospace industry, gave formal approval to the

Space Shuttle on 5 January 1972 ."

In announcing the $5.5 billion, six-year development program, the President

declared the future Shuttle the "work-horse of our whole space effort ." He said it

would replace all expendable boosters except the smallest (Scout) and the largest

(Saturn) . By March of that year, NASA and the Air Force had reached agreement on

the Shuttle's design. A delta-winged orbiter would be launched into low-earth orbit

by the force of its three 470,ooo-pound-thrust liquid rocket motors in the orbiter,

and two water-recoverable, solid-fuel rocket motors on the booster, each capable of

four million pounds ofthrust. An expendable, external, liquid-fuel tank completed

the basic design. Following reentry, the orbiter would land on a conventional

runway using a high-speed, unpowered approach . In effect, the Orbiter and Solid

Rocket Boosters would be recovered, refurbished, and reused. Significantly, the 156-

inch-diameter booster motors were the product of the Air Force's large-rocket

development program that dated back to i96o. Although the new booster concept

resulted in a drop in overall development cost from $5 .5 billion to $5 .1 billion,

operational cost rose to $10 .5 million per mission, more than twice the original

estimate . In the future, cost-efficiency would be dependent on achieving the high

182
reduction in annual flights and an increase in operational costs .`

In April 1972, NASA and the Air Force chose both the Kennedy Space Center and

Vandenberg Air Force Base as sites for future Shuttle operations. Each would allow

for water recovery of the booster motors. The Florida site would support research

and development test flights and easterly launches, while Vandenberg would be

used for payloads requiring high inclination polar orbits . The development schedule

called for the first "horizontal" flight test in 1976, to be followed by manned and orbital flights in 1978, with full operations commencing by t98o.' y

Yet, precise Shuttle objectives remained undetermined . As one author has noted,

the Space Shuttle emerged, but no decision on the goals offuture spaceflight .

Apollo was a matter of going to the moon and building whatever technology could

get us there; the Space Shuttle was a matter of building a technology and going

wherever it could take us.""' Such uncertainty, however, applied more to the civilian

side of the Shuttle than to the military. To establish military utility, specific missions, and coordinate with other military departments, the Defense Department

created in November 1973 the Defense Department Space Shuttle User Committee

chaired by the Air Staff's Director of Space. By the end of 1973, the Air Force and

the Defense Department had agreed on a December 1982 operational date for

Vandenberg based on refurbishing the old MOL Space Launch Complex 6 (SLC 6),

and it had scheduled a phased replacement of the expendable boosters extending

from 198o to 1985 . At the same time, an Upper Stage Committee appointed by the

Space Transportation Committee examined Space Tug requirements and reaffirmed

that a full-scale Space Tug with retrieval capability should be developed by NASA. In

order to ease NASA's ever-present budget hurdles and provide the agency a more

deliberate development schedule, the Upper Stage Committee suggested the Air

Force demonstrate its commitment to the Shuttle by developing a less costly Inertial

Upper Stage (I US) based on modification of an existing vehicle . The Air Force

agreed, and accepted as its responsibility the interim upper-stage vehicle along with

the Shuttle launch site at Vandenberg ."

Although the basic elements of the Shuttle program had fallen into place by 1974,

technical and political problems would continue to play havoc with developmental

and operational milestones. Along with its responsibilities for constructing the

Vandenberg launch site and producing an interim upper-stage vehicle in place of a

Space Tug, Air Force concerns would focus on how best to protect and control

classified military space missions from NASA's Johnson Space Center (JSC) . Should

they be handled by NASA's controllers alone, or by an Air Force element collocated

at the JSC? Or should the Air Force develop a new organization to replace or augment its overworked Satellite Control Facility in Sunnyvale, California? This organizational issue became one of many that confronted the Air Force in the latter half

183
separating experimental from operational space systems, AFSC performed an

operational role with on-orbit spacecraft . Understandably, AFSC received military

development responsibility for the Shuttle through its SAMSO program office . But

what of future responsibilities? Would SAMSO also serve as the military's "operational" organization for the Shuttle?"

In April 1974, NORAD and ADC commander General Lucius D. Clay, Jr., seized

the initiative by submitting a ten-page position paper to the chief of staff calling for

an immediate decision to award ADC operational responsibility for the Shuttle. He

argued that his command possessed the requisite experience through its service as

the operational command for the ground-based space surveillance system and the

newly operational Defense Support Program. Less direct in General Clay's argument

was his motivation to justify the importance of his command's space role through

award of the Shuttle. With the waning of ADC's air defense mission, the Shuttle

could perhaps serve to preserve the existence of the command itself. Shortly thereafter, the Military Airlift Command (MAC), as the Air Force "transportation" agent,

along with the Strategic Air Command (SAC) and Air Force Systems Command

entered the bidding, each staking out its claim to the Shuttle.=3

The imminent operational status ofnew systems like the Shuttle compelled

Defense Department and Air Force officials to begin reassessing whether systems

should continue to be assigned to commands on an individual basis or, by contrast,

be centralized in a single operational Air Force command. Traditionally, the Air

Force and the Defense Department assigned space systems on a functional basis to

the command or agency with the greatest need. As a result, Air Force Systems Command, for example, controlled military communications satellites, and Strategic Air

Command managed meteorological satellite outputs, while the Aerospace Defense

Command (ADC) operated the space surveillance and missile warning system . This

arrangement proved workable as long as defense officials had to handle only a few

satellites with modest capabilities . By the latter 1970s, programs such as the Global

Positioning System (GPS), which possessed multiple capabilities serving a variety of

defense users, promised to blur the functional lines enormously. If the Space Shuttle

presented Air Force leaders with their greatest dilemma, by the end of the decade

defense satellite systems provided an impressive array of potential applications for

battlefield commanders. In a fragmented space community, however, many questioned their operational effectiveness . 21

The Growing Prominence of Space Systems in the Late 1970s

Few would argue that space systems in the 1970s achieved important milestones and

became more important to military commanders. Yet, they experienced a variety of

problems that prevented them from reaching their full potential . Both the opera184
cerned with, space systems by decade's end.

For example, by February 1974 the second series of Defense Satellite Communications System (DSCS) satellites had reached its full orbital configuration of four

operational and two spare satellites positioned in synchronous equatorial orbit

to provide global coverage to 72 degrees latitude. The DSCS II satellite network

provided super-high-frequency communications support, without the problems of

orbital drift and limited channel capacity that its predecessor series, the Initial

Defense Communications Satellite Program (IDCSP) experienced . In February 1977,

the Defense Communications Agency authorized full-scale development of the next

generation, DSCS III, which would provide greater flexibility and security over six

channels instead of two, as well as better jam-resistant and nuclear-hardening

capabilities . Planners estimated DSCS III satellites would have a ten-year design life .

On the other hand, developmental problems and funding shortfalls had pushed the

expected operational date from 1981 to 1984. 25

The Navstar Global Positioning System also made good progress by decade's

end. Rockwell International commenced full-scale engineering development in

mid-1979, although four test satellites had been launched the previous year. Despite

failures of atomic clocks which required the replacement of two satellites, by 1981

the full complement of five test satellites provided three-dimensional data one to

two hours per day in support of a variety of Navy requirements . Originally, the

three-phase project was to have a full complement of 24 satellites operational by

1984. By the early 198os, however, budget shortfalls and technical problems led

planners to conclude that it would be late in the decade before a fully operational

system could be deployed to provide a a4-hour-a-day capability for global, threedimensional positioning and weapons delivery. At the same time, budget reductions

now had resulted in eliminating three satellites, which meant deploying an 18-

satellite configuration with three spares. Program managers hoped that constant

funding uncertainty would not produce "stretch outs" that would further delay

operational milestones.26

The Defense Support Program early warning satellites had performed admirably

since the first launch in May 1971 . Three years later the three operating satellites had

detected nearly 1,300 missile launches, including 966 Soviet and 16 Chinese test

flights, and they had exceeded or were approaching their estimated 15-month design

life . Fortunately, in the mid-1970s, the unexpectedly long life of the satellites allowed

engineers to retrofit those in the inventory with improved infrared sensors that

provided more accurate missile launch counts and launch point determination. By

the end of the decade, upgrades included a more sensitive Mosaic Sensor System to

offset scanning limitations by continuously "staring" at the earth's surface, and a

Sensor Evolutionary Development program. The latter included developing

185
the scheduled modifications underway by the early i98os. At the same time, NORAD

operators worried about coverage deficiencies and their inability to convince the

Defense Department to provide backup satellites before deficiencies appeared with

the operational spacecraft."

While all three military satellite systems experienced technical, managerial, and

budget challenges that tended to characterize highly complex and advanced technological projects, none approached the difficulties surrounding the Air Forcemanaged, joint service Defense Meteorological Satellite Program (DMSP). A new

generation of polar-orbiting satellites, known as Block 5D-1, was to provide better

quality and more reliable weather data from its Operational Linescan System and

twelve new or improved secondary optical and infrared sensors . From the first,

delayed launch on a September 1976, however, a variety of technical and management failures continued to limit operational effectiveness of the two-spacecraft

system to the point where Defense Department users at times had to rely on lowaltitude National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) meteorological

satellites for weather data. Like the communications satellite program, DMSP also

underwent protracted "convergence" discussions in the late 1970S to determine the

feasibility of combining civil and military polar-orbiting weather satellite programs

in order to avoid duplication and cut costs . Once again, the dedicated military program survived, but the uncertainty about its future contributed to delays in development of an improved Block 5D-2 series satellite, which would produce 25 percent

more power from it solar array and use larger on-board computers and eleven

special advanced sensors. Moreover, program manning and funding had failed to

keep pace with the increased complexity and risk of the program. Indeed, the DMSP

system remained largely nonoperational from December 1979 until the first launch

ofthe new series on 2o December 1982 ." 8

The DMSP experience revealed the limitations in attempting too wide a technological leap between generations of satellites in an evolutionary system . At the same

time, all satellite programs suffered from inconsistent funding, technical deficiencies, management weaknesses, and political interference . In the early 198os all would

require reconfiguration at great cost, first to allow launch by the Air Force Titan 34D

booster and, then, to accommodate transition to the Space Shuttle. The advent of

the Shuttle and the challenges involved in achieving reliable operational status of

the satellite programs demanded greater attention in the last half ofthe decade.

The Space Detection and Tracking System's (SPADATS) ground-based space

surveillance sensor network also improved its capabilities with the acquisition of

three major new systems in the late 1970s and early 198os. Operational since 1977,

the Cobra Dane radar located on Shemya Island in the Aleutian chain, employed

the new phased array technology which permitted the system to maintain tracks

186
Base, California, and Otis Air Force Base, Massachusetts, functioned primarily as

missile warning detectors for SLBMs, but also provided precise detection and

tracking of satellites . A third new system joined SPADATS in the early 198os first as

a supplement, then as a replacement, for the aging Baker-Nunn deep space optical

telescopes . Earlier, in 1978, the Air Force added the Maui Optical Tracking and

Identification Facility (MOTIF) to the network. Unlike the Baker-Nunn cameras,

the Maui system provided near-real-time observations by means oflinking an

optical telescope to a computer and television camera. The major improvement in

deep-space detection capability, however, proved to be the Ground-based Electrooptical Deep Space Surveillance (GEODSS) System. Beginning in 1982, the Air Force

expected to inaugurate the first three of five sites, each of which would operate two

deep-space tracking sensors and one wide-area search telescope for coverage of

lower altitudes. Yet, despite these improvements, proliferation of satellites in deep

space and persistent coverage gaps promised to challenge the capabilities of

SPADATS in the years ahead. 29

From its inception, the worldwide, ground-based space surveillance infrastructure had remained operationally focused, with assets owned by the Air Force and

centralized under NORAD's operational control. By contrast, the satellite infrastructure, under the tutelage ofAir Force Systems Command, always emphasized the

research and development elements of its growth and operations. Only the Defense

Support Program (DSP) earlywarning satellite system linked the two military space

communities. Developed by AFSC, but operated by NORAD, DSP also represented

the only operational satellite system wholly controlled by the Air Force. All others

reflected tri-service or joint management and development. Little wonder that

within the Air Force the perception developed that space systems perpetually

remained in research and development rather than transition to the operational side

of the service in the traditional manner, or that space systems represented Defense

Department rather than Air Force programs and, consequently, did not deserve Air

Force advocacy or funding . Any future organizational initiative would have to stress

operational applications and more effectively combine the orbital and groundbased space communities."

NORAD and ADCOM commanders hoped their experience with both orbital and

ground-based systems would enable ADCOM to serve as the space command of the

future. Clearly the growing maturity of, reliance on, and problems associated with

space systems in the late 1970s increased the pressure on Air Force leaders to normalize space operations by means of a more centralized organizational focus. At

the same time, without a stronger national space policy, centralized management

and control, and more capable systems, political and military leaders could not rest

assured that increasingly important space systems would survive in the face of what

187
fragmented military space program needed improvement across the board. For the

Air Force, this challenge, if handled properly, could be a superb opportunity for the

service to lead the effort to improve the military space program and, in so doing,

perhaps regain its preeminent position as sole executive agent for Defense Department space activities .

Soviet ASAT Testing Prompts Space Initiatives

The ongoing national debate over detente, arms control, and the Soviet military

buildup entered a new phase late in the Ford administration when the Soviets

resumed antisatellite testing after a four-year moratorium. Renewed Soviet antisatellite testing in early 1976 provided the impetus for political leaders, who already

were alarmed about Soviet military expansion, to reassess all facets of the American

space program. The resulting momentum for change produced major policy and

organizational initiatives that had by decade's end put the nation firmly on the path

to what advocates termed space "normalization," the integration of space assets in

all phases of military planning and operations.

When the Soviets resumed co-orbital satellite interception testing in midFebruary 1976, the United States had no antisatellite system operational or prototypical . The previous year it had finally terminated its only operational antisatellite

system, Program 437, an Air Force project which involved launching nuclearequipped Thor boosters from Johnston Island in the Pacific . Hampered by reliability and cost problems, as well as diminishing interest in a nuclear capability in the

era of detente, officials placed the program on standby status in 1970 when Air Force

launch personnel transferred to Vandenberg, and they deactivated the system on

1 April 1975 . Later, in the fall of 1976, President Ford authorized a ground-based

replacement in National Security Decision Memorandum 333, which resulted in a

program calling for launch ofa Miniature Homing Device from an F-15 aircraft. 3 '

Shortly after the initial Soviet antisatellite test on 12 February 1976, Dr. Malcolm

Currie, Director of Defense Research and Engineering, testified before Congress that

"satellite vulnerability has to be a major issue for us, a major topic of study and of

planning over the next few years. The question is, can we maintain space as a sanctuary or not?"32 That April, Dr. Currie requested from Air Force officials a thorough

assessment ofthe Space Detection and Tracking System, the worldwide network of

sensors linked to the NORAD Space Defense Center and responsible for locating and

tracking all objects in space. Likewise, when his counterpart, Assistant Secretary of

the Air Force for Research and Development John Martin, responded on 1 June with

the first of three major studies, titled "Plan for the Evolution of Space Surveillance

Capabilities," he approached the problem not by emphasizing the potential Soviet

threat from weapons in space but from the "significantly enhanced military opera188
theme of normalization, the application of space activities to military forces,

throughout their struggle to bring some degree of order to the space program.

The Air Force study submitted to Dr. Currie in the spring of 1976 proved to be just

one of many analyses of space systems prepared during the next several years. The

long and difficult process of developing an integrated systems approach to space

requirements would culminate in 1982, with publication of the first portion ofthe

Air Staff's Space Systems Architecture 2000, which established plans and programs

through the end of the century. Likewise, policy and organizational studies

abounded during this period . If the many studies and analyses appeared symptomatic of problems in the space program, they also proved to be a means ofpromoting

agreement on space issues throughout the defense community and, especially,

within the Air Force. Without general consensus, necessary support for major

organizational and doctrinal changes leading to an operational space focus would

not be forthcoming ."

In August 1976, the Ford administration continued to demonstrate its serious

interest in space defense improvements by directing a "significant" increase in the

Air Force's space research and development funding and, in early November, establishing a Space Defense Working Group that consisted of representatives from

the Defense Department, including the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency

(DARPA), the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the services . Secretary of Defense Donald

Rumsfeld recognized the divergent views present in the space community and called

for a deliberate approach designed to "educate" people, create general agreement,

develop a "broad-based understanding of DoD-wide Space Defense efforts . . .,

facilitate the exchange of information. . ., and illuminate the important issues ."

Although the working group could accomplish little before Ford administration

officials left office in January 1977, it nevertheless helped pave the way for the Carter

administration's space initiatives ."

Despite President Jimmy Carter's reputation as a nuclear weapons "disarmer,"

his administration ultimately belied its critics and profoundly affected the direction

of strategic aerospace defense ." Under considerable pressure and much against his

basic view ofthe country's military requirements, President Carter found himself

compelled to take increasingly bold measures to improve the nation's defensive

posture . Responding to changing perceptions of the Soviet threat, efforts to make

the country's command, control, and intelligence systems function effectively

pointed toward a greater need for improved air, missile, and space defense . On the

surface, one saw the stream of now predictable studies dealing with space policy and

operations, which might suggest that officials achieved little of substance. Yet, by

1981, when the Carter team left office, the nation had received a revised, comprehensive national security space policy as part of what his Defense Secretary, Harold

189
gy, 

ppg 

conventional threat." The expanded national defense commitment resulted in

strategic defense improvements in all areas, including space. The Carter years would

prove decisive in setting the direction of the country's space program, and Air

Force leaders could cite major progress in organizational, doctrinal and system

upgrade initiatives . Indeed, at decade's end, the Air Force appeared on the verge of

consolidating its claim to sole-agent status for Defense Department space matters .

Normally one would expect a new administration to take a deliberate approach

to reassess defense programs through the customary procedures for policy review.

Although the Carter team's space policy did, in fact, emerge following a lengthy

internal review, the new president's interest in arms control issues prompted immediate action in space matters . During a press briefing on 9 March 1977, President

Carter announced that he intended to propose to the Soviets mutual restrictions on

antisatellite weapons, which accorded with established policy on peaceful uses of

space. On the eve of Secretary of State Cyrus Vance's visit to Moscow later that

month, where he would raise the subject with the Soviets, President Carter signed

Presidential Review Memorandum 23 which directed the newly established National

Security Council Policy Review Committee to "thoroughly review existing policy

and formulate overall principles which should guide our space activities." Chaired

by Frank Press, Director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy (OSTP), the

committee intended to pay special attention to the problem ofineffective coordination and friction among the four major space users: the intelligence community, the

Defense Department, federal space agencies like NASA and the National Oceanic

and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), and the commercial sector ."

For over a year the OSTP assessed space policy issues before President Carter, on

20 June 1978, issued Presidential Directive 37, which described the "basic principles"

of the nation's space program. His directive focused on defense priorities . A

National Security Council policy review committee would provide "a forum to all

federal agencies for review of space policy and. . . rapid referral of open issues to the

President." NASA would continue to bear the overwhelming financial burden for the

Shuttle, while the Defense Department, in the name of national security, had

priority on all future Shuttle flights . Moreover, the Defense Department would

emphasize satellite survivability and develop the antisatellite system that President

Ford had approved . As the press release on the directive concluded, "the U.S . space

defense program shall include an integrated attack warning, notification, verification and contingency reaction capability which can effectively detect and react to

threats to U.S . Space Systems ."'

Although the directive sounded like music to the ears of Air Force space enthusiasts, in the aftermath of its public unveiling the civilian space community found the

policy too heavily weighted on the military side and pressed for an adjustment. As a

190
focused on the potential for new nonmilitary space applications and explorations

after Shuttle development resources had diminished. The administration also

addressed the old issue of fragmentation of resources and stressed the importance of

cooperative efforts to eliminate duplication . This set the stage for the "convergence"

efforts to combine military and civilian communications and weather satellite

programs. With the two directives, the nation now possessed a forceful, declaratory

military space policy to serve as a point of departure for developing an effective,

long-term space program. Even so, Air Force officers later would criticize the

directive as not going further toward explicitly establishing the need for a

warfighting capability in space."

Air Force leaders had not remained idle during the Carter administration's policy

review. In fact, Air Force deliberations had begun late in the Ford administration

with a reassessment of several tenets that over the years had developed as extensions

of general national policy guidelines. Echoing General Thomas D. White, Air Force

leaders affirmed that aerospace was a medium for performing missions rather than a

mission in itself. Second, they said military space programs should be centered in

one service, the Air Force, to promote maximum efficiency and economy. Third, the

major factor in deploying space systems would be their potential effectiveness for

space applications. Fourth, the Air Force would vigorously guard the principle of

"space for peaceful purposes" while maintaining the military options to guarantee

these purposes. Finally, Air Force policy called for strong, consistent support of, and

cooperation with, NASA.' °

To generate momentum on space policy within the Air Force, the Air Staff's

office of the Deputy Director for Plans and Operations proposed several new space

tenets and sought support by soliciting comments in mid-November 1976 from Air

Staff agencies and field commands. By January 1977, it reported to Vice Chief of

Staff General William VMcBride that the respondents generally supported the

tenets dealing with space for "peaceful purposes," cooperation with NASA, and the

importance of the "aerospace" medium for the Air Force. Many of the respondents

seriously disagreed, however, with the remaining two tenets, because assertion of

Air Force space prominence had strong interservice implications . A cautious Air

Force Chief of Staff General David Jones chose to await the incoming Carter

administration's initiative on space issues before taking further action."

By that spring, with the administration's policy review underway, the Chief of

Staff acted. In a major Air Force policy letter issued in May 1977, General Jones

seized the opportunity to establish an updated set of space policy tenets describing

Air Force responsibilities that, he asserted, could provide the framework for further

Air Force "efforts to develop plans and capability objectives for space." At the same
space," Air Force space policy would comprise the following :

1 . The Air Force affirms that among its prime responsibilities are military operations in space, conducted by the letter and spirit of existing

treaties and in accordance with international law;

2 . As DoD executive agent for liaison with NASA, the Air Force affirms

its responsibility for close coordination on projects related to national

security and for cooperation and support on projects of mutual benefit;

3 . The Air Force affirms its responsibility for maintaining the freedom

of space by providing needed space defense capabilities .

Space doctrine and employment discussions initiated at the time, however, would

continue to founder for lack of consensus, and General Jones' policy letter would

remain the official Air Force position on space for the next six years .

12

Although Air Force leaders carefully omitted claims to preeminence in the space

community, the series of space studies and analyses that appeared in the next few

years were less restrained . One of the first, and most important, appeared that July

when theAir Staff's plans and operations office issued A Study ofFuture AirForce

Space Policy and Objectives . It provided a crucial point of departure for efforts to

achieve consensus on space within the wider Air Force, and it asserted the service's

pretensions to space leadership.

Taking the now traditional view of"aerospace," the study's authors asserted that

space should be viewed as a continuation of the atmospheric arena, where activity

was most efficiently performed under a single manager. The Air Force possessed the

expertise and a history of exploiting technology that made it most qualified to be

that manager. In other words, it should actively pursue a "sole agent" policy by

seeking, as a minimum, recognition as de facto executive agent for the Defense

Department in all space matters and, ultimately, formal designation as sole executive agent. This represented the most explicit declaration in favor of advancing a

"sole agent" policy within the Defense Department. As a first step, the study argued,

the Air Force must put its own house in order by updating important documents

and establishing a set of "corporately-endorsed" goals and policies for space. Overcoming this major obstacle would clear the path to the best use of space systems,

whose capability objectives should focus on providing greater operational support

to ground forces and credible deterrence at all levels of conflict. Although the

authors endorsed the policy promulgated in May by General Jones, they believed

further action would be necessary to convince the skeptics who questioned the

survivability and usefulness ofspace systems. The authors harbored no doubts

about the situation at hand . "We are presently at a juncture which presents the Air

Force with a unique opportunity to set unambiguous policy and objectives for the

future to maintain US military leadership in space.""

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studys ringing call to action did not result in additional major initiatives during the

remainder of 1977, subsequent comments and decisions suggest that the July 1977

Air Staff study established a benchmark for stimulating discussion and action on

key space issues ." Unfortunately for advocates of rapid change in the space community, attention within the Air Force for the next two years too often focused on the

slow death ofthe Aerospace Defense Command.

ADCOM's Demise and the Search for Space Consensus

Periodic threats to ADCOM's existence were nothing new in the first half of the

1970s . With its original anti-bomber defense mission in decline, it continually faced

congressional and Defense Department pressure to streamline operations by cutting

costs as well as eliminating personnel and subordinate headquarters functions ." In

1977, however, ADCOM's future also became enmeshed in the ongoing assessment of

space organization and issues.

Early that year, an internal Air Staff evaluation of ADCOM led to a major review

titled, Proposal for aReorganization of USAFAir Defense and Space Surveillance/

Warning Resources, known informally as the "Green Book" study. It proposed

eliminating ADCOM entirely and parceling out its air defense resources to the

Tactical Air Command (TAC), its communications facilities to the Air Force

Communications Command, and its space assets to the Strategic Air Command

(SAC). ADCOM's flamboyant commander, General Daniel "Chappie" James, labored

mightily to save the command but to no avail . Although in the end he failed, his

often contentious counterattack against the Air Staff's agenda sharpened the focus

of the debate on space and contributed to major changes following his departure

in late 1977 . James' successor, General James E. Hill, arrived in December 1977 to

assume command of a NORAD that had shrunk to 25 percent of its original 1957

contingent. Although he had no significant air defense experience, he became a

strong advocate of air defense . He sought to prevent reorganization of the command by stressing the importance of the Canadian role in NORAD and the "logic"

that would have ADCOM remain as a major command with responsibility for

space operations.'6

General Hill found a key ally in Under Secretary of the Air Force Dr. Hans Mark,

who objected to the element in the reorganization plan that called for combining

strategic offensive and defensive forces in one command, SAC. Not only did the

Canadians find this disquieting, said Mark, but advocacy for essential space modernization improvements would not receive sufficient attention from an offensiveoriented command. The energetic under secretary looked to ADCOM to establish a

preeminent role for the Air Force in space. After a visit to NORAD/ADCOM headquarters in April 1978, for example, he expressed to General Hill his belief in the

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out in space." Mark actively-if unsuccessfully-pursued his argument for

ADCOM's space role at the highest levels of the Pentagon"

General Hill also vigorously lobbied the joint Chiefs of Staff, General Jones and

his successor, General Lew Allen, as well as his colleagues at the "Corona" conferences of four-star generals. His argument centered on the need for an Air Force

space operations command. In the absence of an operational focus for space

activities, he declared, key issues were surfacing which required immediate attention . Among these was the need to designate an operator for the Space Shuttle and

Navstar GPS as well as a focal point for the man-in-space program and military use

of the Shuttle. He also stressed the need for a responsive, dedicated military launch

capability, and the integration of space systems into normal Air Force logisticengineering channels . Overall, there had to be a focal point for operational requirements. Whereas the service had designated Air Force Systems Command to oversee

the development of space systems and ADCOM to manage defense of space systems,

no single command had been selected as the operator of space systems . General Hill

proposed ADCOM as the logical choice ."

The ADCOM commander next took his case to the Corona Pine meeting of fourstar commanders in October 1978. He commented afterward that space had received

considerable discussion, but he was surprised and disappointed at the lack of understanding of the issues among leaders from the other major commands and the

meager support they demonstrated for his position . He noted that Air Force Chief

of Staff General Lew Allen had responded coolly to his presentation, advocating

instead the development of a "Space Defense Operations Center" and declaring that

space represented a "long term thing." He did not think a space command was not

needed at that time. General Allen did, however, mention that he would form an Air

Staff group to examine the feasibility of a future space command.99

In fact, in September Dr. Mark had convinced Air Force Secretary John Stetson to

suggest such a study group to General Allen. It would prove to have a major impact

on Air Force space thinking. In early November General Allen appointed a ninemember Space Mission Organization Planning Executive Committee to examine all

facets of space mission management including organizational responsibilities,

operator participation, and command and control ofspace mission resources .

Although general officers comprised the committee's steering group, action officers

under Colonel G. Wesley Clark of the Air Staff plans office bore the major research

and analysis responsibilities . One ofthese, Lieutenant Colonel Thomas S.

Moorman, Jr., future commander of Air Force Space Command and Vice Chief of

Staff of the Air Force, recalled the crucial impact this committee had on later

developments because ofwhat he termed its "extraordinarily important socialization process," which took place in two ways. Over the course of several months,

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who, in Moorman's words, became "socialized for the issues ." The action officers

benefited similarly, and many would play key roles in the subsequent establishment

of the Air Force's Space Command. Colonel Moorman's experience also suggests

that a recurring theme in the search for consensus on space involved bridging the

gap between the larger group of committed middle-echelon officers and the more

hesitant, skeptical senior leadership."'

The Space Missions Organizational Planning Study that appeared in February 1979

described five alternatives ranging from the status quo to establishment of an

operational space command. Although it had found consensus for greater centralization of space operations and for seeking Air Force designation as Defense

Department executive agent for space, timing and specific organizational structure

remained unclear . The Air Force's four-star generals received a briefing on the study

at their February 1979 Corona meeting, where General Hill's efforts to provoke

wide-ranging discussion on space once again proved unsuccessful . Although he

noted that most generals favored aggressive, centralized management of space

activities in principle, they remained divided on the specifics . Perhaps most significantly, General Allen at this time did not seem to favor centralized organization

for space at all ."

General Hill continued to argue that ADCOM's space resources should be left in

place to serve as the core of a future space command. Nevertheless, Air Force leaders

proceeded with the reorganization of the air defense and space missions, which

resulted in disestablishment of ADCOM as an Air Force major command (leaving

the specified ADCOM in place") with its air defense systems and its missile and space

defense systems parceled out to Tactical Air Command and Strategic Air Command,

respectively, in 1979 and 198o . Following extensive discussions, General Hill succeeded in retaining operational control of aerospace defense forces and responsibility for systems advocacy with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and Air Staff. Reflecting later

on the turbulent years ofADCOM's demise and his efforts to retain a space mission,

General Hill strongly believed that had Air Force leaders agreed with his proposal,

they could have successfully achieved an operational space command four years

earlier than they eventually did . On the other hand, commenting in 1982, on the eve

of the Air Force's new Space Command, the retired former NORAD/ADCOM

commander admitted that there existed, then, "a crystallization, an understanding,

of where we are in space and an appreciation for the requirement for a space

ADCOM, the Air Force major command, was inactivated on 31 March 198o and replaced by

a direct reporting unit, the Aerospace Defense Center. ADCOM, the specified command

serving as the United States component of NORAD, continued until 16 December 1986, when

it was inactivated and replaced by US Element NORAD.

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As the ADCOM experience demonstrated, Air Force leaders like General Jones

and his successor, General Lew Allen, preferred to compromise and proceed cautiously until they could be assured that parochial command interests had abated

and that a sizable consensus within the Air Force would support new departures.

The deliberately slow pace also reflected their own doubts, as well as their intention

not to create unnecessary opposition from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the other

services, and Defense Department agencies. While the ADCOM reorganization plan

postponed rather than precipitated final decisions on Air Force space arrangements,

the process allowed time to build greater appreciation for space within the institution. The reorganization of ADCOM in 1979 represented only one of a number of

important organizational changes for space that took place during the last two years

of the Carter administration . These changes reflected pressure to accommodate the

advent of the Space Shuttle, as well as the difficulty of achieving consensus on

centralization of operational space activities .

The Organizational Prelude to an Air Force Space Command

The Space Missions Organizational Planning Study set the stage for a number of

changes from 1979 to 1981 that consolidated space activities and emphasized the

normalization of space operations. Understandably, most of the key changes

involved the space research and development community and the imminent arrival

of the Space Shuttle. On 1 October 1979, the day the Air Staff announced the

inactivation ofAerospace Defense Command, Secretary Mark officially approved

the Air Force decision to split out the functions of the Air Force Systems

Command's Space and Missile Systems Organization (SAMSO), replacing it with

two organizations-the Ballistic Missile Office (BMO) and the Space Division .

Similar to the reorganization of 1961, this change reflected the strain placed on a

single organization to manage ambitious missile and space programs, in this case

the Missile-Experimental (MX) and the Space Shuttle. Unlike the earlier reorganization, however, the eagerly anticipated Shuttle had promised to produce the expanded "space age" that had failed to materialize in the 196os."

Already the Air Force had for the first time centralized all launch functions under

a single management headquarters, having reassigned the Eastern Test Range to

SAMSO on 1 February 1977. Later that year, SAMSO formed a Space Transportation

System Group at Vandenberg to prepare for Shuttle launch operations from the

Western Test Range. With the activation of Space Division on 1 October 1979, the

Air Force renamed the Patrick and Vandenberg Air Force Base range sites the

Eastern and Western Space and Missile Centers, respectively, and subordinated

them to the newly-designated Space and Missile Test Organization (SAMTO) at

Vandenberg, which replaced the earlier Space and Missile Test Center.

14

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for Space Operations was made responsible for all non-acquisition space functions,

including coordination with NASA and the integration and operational support of

all military Shuttle payloads . In effect, for the first time, the research and development community separated acquisition and non-acquisition activities, but it did

little to clarify the line between experimental and operational systems . As a briefing

paper produced by the Air Staff plans directorate stated, "We have recognized that

space systems are different from other Air Force systems and have affirmed a much

closer relationship between operator and developer for space." The old issue of

development or operational priorities and responsibilities remained unresolved.

Even for the plans and operations office, which invariably led the effort to have

operational commands play a larger role in space activities, operational space

systems still seemed to require special consideration from the research and development community."

The new organization also reflected the Shuttle's operational impact and challenges. Since early 1975 the Air Force had realized that NASA possessed inadequate

facilities to protect classified data during military Shuttle missions. Although the

Sunnyvale Satellite Control Facility handled classified satellite missions, concerns

about its capacity and its vulnerability to sabotage or earthquakes made another

location desirable . While planners studied the possibility of constructing a new

control facility for both satellite and shuttle operations, they decided to establish a

temporary secure, or "controlled mode," facility at NASA's Johnson Space Center in

Houston, Texas. On i June 1979 Space Division activated the Manned Space Flight

Support Group to handle Defense Department Shuttle missions and master the

complexities of Shuttle operations in preparation for establishment of the Air

Force's own Shuttle Operations and Planning Complex . The latter would join a new

Satellite Operations Center in what planners referred to as the Consolidated Space

Operations Center (CSOC). Meanwhile, the Sunnyvale Satellite Control Facility

would report through Space Division's Deputy Commander for Space Operations.

16

Hans Mark led the Air Force effort to consolidate Shuttle and satellite operations

under a new, single management headquarters and, along with NORAD commander

General Hill, he emphasized the operational advantages ofhaving the CSOC located

in the Colorado Springs area close to Cheyenne Mountain. With strong support

from the Colorado congressional delegation, they proved successful in having the

Colorado site selected . Construction would begin during fiscal year 1982, with a

scheduled completion date of 1985 . 5 '

General Hill also succeeded in another area of space control. Since early 1978 he

had lobbied to replace NORAD's Space Defense Center with a more ambitious,

operationally-oriented control center in Cheyenne Mountain. Late in 1979, he received permission to form the Space Defense Operations Center (SPADOC), which

197
SPADATS operations, but also to control potential antisatellite countermeasures.

With the creation of SPADOC, the Air Force took a another step toward an operational focus for military space."

A final organizational change on the road to a space command occurred when, in

September 1981, the Air Staff created the Directorate for Space Operations within

the office of Lieutenant General Jerome F. O'Malley, the Deputy Chief of Staff for

Operations, Plans and Readiness . Since his arrival on the Air Staff in the spring of

1979, he had been a tireless champion of normalizing space operations in the Air

Force. Complementing Hans Mark on the civilian side of the Air Force, General

O'Malley provided a crucial, high-level, uniformed voice on operational space

issues . His new office, he declared, was to "provide an intensified space focus . . . and

to help reorient USAF philosophy toward an operational approach" by advocating

the operational use of space systems at the highest levels of the Air Force. It would,

he said, "provide a renewed emphasis that the Air Force plans to stay in the lead in

military space operations."'9

General O'Malley's new office resulted from a recommendation by a study prepared in the summer of 198o under the auspices of the Scientific Advisory Board.

Although another in the long string of studies on space, it proved remarkably influential, even if its immediate impact disappointed the authors . Under the chairmanship of former Air Force Secretary John L. McLucas, fourteen distinguished

civilian and military space authorities met in July 198o to conduct what became

known as the Scientific Advisory Board Summer Study on Space. The group concluded that, while the Air Force had done good work over the past fifteen years in

evolving experimental systems into reliable operational ones, its leaders had only

begun to recognize the capability of these systems for military operations. The

study, which appeared in August 198o, focused on general deficiencies in the Air

Force's ability to perform the space roles outlined in the current draft manual on

space doctrine . Technology in space, the Summer Study asserted, "does not provide"

support to commanders; operational space objectives "are not clearly defined;"

space systems are "not integrated" into force structures ; and space requirements

and employment strategy for operations "are [neither] clearly understood nor

fiscally obtainable.""

"Inadequate organization for operational exploitation of space" accounted for

much of the problem. This, the insightful study asserted, resulted from "a continuing perception that major Air Force commanders do not generally believe that the

space program is an Air Force program in which all can take pride, can use to their

advantage, can count on, and thus can support ." The authors concluded their

analysis with a series ofrecommendations ranging from the importance of operational priorities to the need for inclusion of space systems in an integrated forces

198
argued, would be the best way of ensuring reliable, timely military launches in the

likely case that NASA's ongoing Shuttle management and budget problems caused

schedule delays and diminished capabilities ."

How influential was the Summer Study? In the near future the Air Force would

develop an integrated space systems architecture that projected developments to

the year 2000. A year after the study appeared, the Air Force officially adopted the

mixed-fleet approach of using the Shuttle and expendable launch vehicles for the

198os. General O'Malley found the Summer Study's findings especially important.

Not only did he act to establish the Directorate of Space, he worked to have Air Staff

space program element monitors transferred from the research and development

office to his own Directorate of Operations and Readiness, headed by Major

General John T. Chain. General Chain and his staff ofspace reformers proved to be

the driving force for organizational change in support of General O'Malley's efforts.

As O'Malley confidently declared, "I believe we can gain MAJCOM support by

transferring space systems . . . into the operational community. If steps are taken at

the Air Staff level to normalize space systems, these efforts will eventually permeate

the MAJCOMs and the desired pride of ownership will take form."61

On the other hand, reflecting on events after the Summer Study's appeared,

Secretary McLucas ruefully observed that when he and fellow group member

General Bernard Schriever approached the Chiefof Staff about presenting the

study's findings at the October 198o Corona conference, General Allen remarked

that an already overcrowded agenda precluded discussion of their space analysis .63

Later, the Chief of Staff lauded the report as part of several efforts, including several

recent symposia on space and an important ongoing Space Policy and Requirements

Study, for helping to focus Air Force efforts on near-term publication of an Air

Force doctrine for space. Yet, in the fall of i98o, General Allen, whose strong

research and development experience included positions as Deputy Commander for

Satellite Programs in the Space and Missile Systems Organization, and Chief of Staff

for Air Force Systems Command, again declined to authorize major organizational

changes in the area ofspace operations. He cited the divergent views that emerged

from the various studies and symposia,as well as among senior leaders during highlevel discussions and conferences."

At the end of the decade, the space community appeared sharply divided over

how best to proceed toward more effective space organization . Three positions

claimed the broadest support . One favored the status quo and found its strongest

supporters among the research and development community centered in Air Force

Systems Command and its subordinte organizations . Space Division commander

Lieutenant General Richard C. Henry, for example, argued that the organizational

changes involving Space Division and the Shuttle were sufficient to insure proper

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[S]pace is different. Certain functions have to be kept together, specifically the development and building of a spacecraft, the integration of

that spacecraft onto its launch vehicle, whether . . . an Orbiter, or a Titan,

or an upper stage of some kind-its launch or orbit, and its on-orbit

support. We have. . . the teamwork within Space Division . . . that gets

the job done. I would be sad to see us forced into, for organizational

reasons, the customer-developer relationship that we have today on

the airplanes ."

Another group, often including the Air Force Chief of Staff, seemed to favor a more

centralized operational focus, including establishment of a major Air Force space

command, but that group preferred to take a more deliberate, evolutionary approach. A third group, represented by General O'Malley, Hans Mark, and other

missionaries for space operations, thought an operational space command long

overdue and favored immediate action. At various times General Allen seemed to

favor the views of the first or second group but, under considerable pressure, he

eventually would come to support General O'Malley's position ."

The question by decade's end seemed to center less on whether change should

occur than on the proper pace of change. Although the series oforganizational

changes in 1979, i98o, and 1981 heartened space advocates, momentum for change

had yet to achieve a level that promised immediate success . The "organizational

prelude" had moved space further along the path toward normalization, but much

work remained for General O'Malley and his supporters before they could expect to

achieve broad agreement on space policy, doctrine, organization, and operations.

Nevertheless, space proponents from the operational side of the house were closer

to success than many realized . By the end of the Carter administration, the Air

Force and the nation were much farther along the road to achieving consensus on

policy and requirements for the nation's space program than surface changes might

have suggested . Presidential Directive 37 established declaratory national policy, and

Air Force leaders had made substantial progress on policy and doctrinal issues, as

well as on determining requirements for future actions with respect to satellite

survivability and antisatellite development. The Air Force had moved far toward

what Colonel Moorman had termed "socialization for the issues ." It remained for

the incoming Reagan administration to provide the necessary final momentum.

Given the new president's defense agenda, an overly cautious Air Force reaction to

change might have found important decisions for space dictated by outsiders .

The Reagan Administration's Plan for Space in 1981

The new president took office in 1981 determined to upgrade the nation's military

posture. His Strategic Modernization Plan, which called for major improvements in

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tion initiated the now traditional White House policy review for space, and the

Defense Department followed suit.

Meanwhile, General O'Malley spearheaded yet another study to investigate means

of broadening Air Force space policy to emphasize operational support . Shortly

after the new administration took office, O'Malley assembled thirty people from

four major commands and five Air Staff organizations for an intense four-month

assessment of the advantages of, and requirements for, using space as a warfighting

support medium. Building on the issues raised in the Scientific Advisory Board's

198o Summer Study, General O'Malley's approach stressed the broad operational

needs of user commands and the means ofproviding the necessary capabilities .

When published in May 1981, the Space Policy and Requirements Study represented

the most comprehensive analysis ofthe Air Force space program to date." The

influence of the Space Policy and Requirements Study on future organizational and

doctrinal developments surprised many who worked on it, particularly since

General Allen initially chose not to endorse its recommendations, which asserted

Air Force space leadership and advocated a space-based "military" capability. By the

end of the year, however, events would compel him to change his mind."

Already by the fall of1981, General O'Malley had his Directorate of Space functioning under Brigadier General John H. Storrie as the Air Staff focal point for space

and space-related plans and operations. By the end of1981, the directorate was hard

at work on an Air Force Space Master Plan and a detailed space surveillance

architecture report that would set the stage for the ambitious Space Systems Architecture 2ooo study published in 1983 . The influence of the Space Policy and Requirements Study also would be seen in the Air Force doctrinal publications issued in

1982 and, even earlier, in the administration's assessment of space policy and

programs that commenced in the summer of 1981 . 69

Within the Air Force, the events of late 1981 took on a momentum that threatened to outpace the desire or ability of Air Force leaders to control them. Organizationally, they resulted in agreement to form the Air Force's Space Command as the

operational and management focus for Air Force space interests . Clearly, the

Defense Department and White House policy reviews, together with the Air Force

Space Policy and Requirements Study, created widespread support for major policy

and organizational changes . Moreover, President Reagan's Strategic Modernization

Plan, issued in October 1981, included provisions which called attention to space

systems . Throughout the final weeks of 1981, Air Force leaders would seldom refer to

President Reagan's October 1981 Strategic Modernization Plan in terms of its

importance for or impact on space. Yet, the plan served as a call to action for the Air

Force to get its house in order by agreeing on a reorganizational roadmap for future

space activities .

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number of key individuals compelled General Allen to take action leading to creation of an Air Force major command for space operations. For one, Under Secretary

of the Air Force Edward C. "Pete" Aldridge, who also served as Director of the

National Reconnaissance Office, raised the strong possibility of creating a space

command within the Air Force in a speech to the National Space Club in November

1981 . Referring to the need for better coordination of space activities, he declared, "I

believe the right answer may be some form of a'space command' for the operation

ofour satellites and launch services ." He proceeded to add that "the Air Force is

moving in that direction now." For another, Congress now entered the scene more

directly. Not only did Senator John Warner's subcommittee on strategic and theater

nuclear forces express more interest in space organizational alternatives, but

Representative Ken Kramer from Colorado Springs made Air Force leaders extremely uncomfortable by introducing a resolution calling for the Air Force to

rename itself the "Aerospace Force." His House Resolution 5130 proposed that such

a force "be trained and equipped for prompt and sustained offensive and defensive

operations in air and space, including coordination with ground and naval forces

and the preservation of free access to space for U.S . spacecraft ." He also called on

the Air Force to create a separate space command."

At the same time, the Defense Department policy review committee completed

its initial draft space study, which raised the question of an Air Force response on

organizational issues affecting space. Could the Air Force continue to remain on the

sidelines? Taken together, these events of late 1981 prompted General Allen to act,

but General O'Malley took the key step . In December O'Malley called together

Generals Jasper Welch, Howard Leaf, Bernard Randolf, and John Storrie, along with

four action officers, to discuss a course of action . Acting on their recommendation,

General Allen directed the Air Staff to develop a "Space Policy Overview" paper as

a "think piece" in preparation for the final Defense Department study results. Air

Staff planners responded with a matrix, termed the "Navajo Blanket" because of its

color-coded format, which outlined the complete range of space programs, costs,

functional responsibilities, the impact of the Shuttle, future implications, and

various organizational options. Significantly, the organizational alternatives

centered on the five proposed in the 1979 Space Mission Organization Planning

Study, including an ADCOM initiative to "dual-hat" Space Division's Deputy

Commander for Space Operations as Vice CINCAD for Space. The Air Staff had

its report ready for General Allen's review in early January 1982."

The Air Force Forms a Space Command

As the President's Strategic Modernization Plan went before Congress in the spring

of 1982, Air Force 1 eaders continued to wrestle with the difficult management and

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possible. At the same time, it had always been imperative that key commanders, as

well as a broad spectrum of the Air Force community, agree on the course ahead. By

early 1982, although the reformers could rely on widespread support for the

establishment of an Air Force operational space command, outside pressures made

it difficult for Air Force leaders to control events.

In January a General Accounting Office report, produced at the behest of Senator and former astronaut Harrison Schmitt (R-New Mexico), brought additional

pressure to bear by castigating the Defense Department for poor management of

military space systems . Referring to space as a mission rather than a medium, it

called on the Defense Department to create a single manager for space activities and

to develop a comprehensive plan for the military exploitation of space. The report

specifically suggested that funding be withheld from the CSOC project until the

Defense Department presented a logical, effective organizational plan for military

space operations. Understandably, Senator Schmitt favored Kirtland Air Force Base

in his own state as the permanent site of the CSOC. The Air Staff responded by

criticizing the report for considering space a mission, which might require special

"space forces," rather than a place where the Air Force could carry out missions and

special activities . Although Air Force officials had consistently viewed space as a

medium for operations, it had become increasingly difficult to maintain a clear

distinction between medium and mission . One might even argue that the establishment of a centralized command for space operations would blur the separation further."

In February 1982, a crucial event occurred that opened the door permanently for

operational space advocates . At the Corona South commanders' meeting that

month, General Robert T. Marsh, commander ofAir Force Systems Command,

proposed an evolutionary reorganization concept centered around his Space

Division . According to his scheme, which stopped short of a new major command

for space, the Space Division commander, General Henry, would also serve under

NORAD/ADCOM Commander in Chief General James V Hartinger as ADCOM's

deputy commander for space and would maintain direct links to the Under

Secretary of the Air Force by means of a special assistant on the Air Staff. If supporters of a greater operational focus for space disagreed with the proposal for a greater

Air Force Systems Command role in space operations, they welcomed the new

prominence of the issue in high-level discussions. In the months ahead, the move to

establish an operational space command would also benefit from the good personal

relations among West Point classmates Generals Hartinger, Marsh, and Henry."

General Allen, fortified with the conclusions of the comprehensive report prepared by General O'Malley's study group, directed Generals Marsh and Hartinger

to work together to develop reorganization proposals . Soon thereafter an ad hoc

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Force began a two-month effort to reach agreement on potential management

initiatives . ADC officers strongly favored a space command that would centralize

space management, which at that time was spread among twenty-six major organizations, and would provide a focus for advocacy and wartime use of space systems .

With representatives from the research and development community unwilling to

sanction a space command, working group discussions proved difficult . Meanwhile,

in testimony before Congress, Strategic Air Comand commander General Bennie

Davis declared that, "Unless the emphasis regarding operational systems is reoriented, the future prospects for coordinated and meaningful space systems development do not appear favorable. Operational requirements must begin to drive the

direction of our technology efforts ." In December 1981 General Davis had initiated

discussions with ADCOM, the specified command, with the objective of returning

defensive space systems to ADCOM's control. Then, in March, Under Secretary of

the Air Force Aldridge became directly involved when Air Force Secretary Verne Orr

charged him to examine the options for reorganization . In a letter to Vice Chief of

Staff General Robert C. Mathis, Aldridge warned of"outside pressures" to establish

a space command. In order to control the process, he declared, the Air Force should

develop its own alternatives leading to an Air Force space organization ."

In mid-April, with the momentum intensifying for an operational management

focus, General Allen and senior Air Staff officers received the briefing from the

working group. The Air Force Systems Comand representatives presented a more

elaborate version of their original plan, which had been outlined at the Corona

South meeting. Senior Air Staff officers, notably General O'Malley, objected. During

a lull in the discussion, General Hartinger offered the alternative of an Air Force

major command for space, at which point General Allen decided that further planning efforts should be directed toward a separate space command. The plans for

establishing the new organization would be handled by the Air Staff's Space Operations Steering Committee, then chaired by General Chain, who had succeeded

General O'Malley as Deputy Chief of Staff for Plans and Operations when the

latter was selected as Air Force Vice Chief of Staff."

By early May 1982, although general understanding existed on centralizing space

functions, Air Force leaders had yet to reach formal agreement . In a sense, time

seemed to be running out for General Allen if he were to retain control of the

decision-making process . As he noted later,

I concluded . . . that [a Space Command should be formed] before I

left office . . . since I did have a fairly conservative view of this, that it

might be appropriate for me to go ahead and then have as much

influence as I could in having the command structure not be overblown but get it underway."

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that a space command study was underway and nearing completion. Moreover,

given the growing congressional and Defense Department consensus for consolidation of space activities, the Joint Chiefs of Staff might become involved and take

over the issue. As long as Air Force General Jones remained chairman this would be

unlikely, but current planning called for him to retire on i June. Then, the more

aggressive Navy could very well mount a strong campaign for it to receive the space

defense assignment. Furthermore, defense observers expected both Secretary

Weinberger and the President to announce the findings of their respective space

policy review groups in late June or early July. President Reagan planned to make a

major policy address on space, and speculation suggested he might even announce

the creation of a separate space service equal to the existing three."

On 21 June 1982, the day before the Defense Department announced the results of

its space study, and a few days before his own retirement, General Allen appeared

publicly with Under Secretary of the Air Force Aldridge to announce the formation

of an Air Force space command that would become effective on 1 September 1982.

General Hartinger would become commander of the new Space Command, while

retaining his responsibilities as commander of the specified ADCOM and binational

NORAD. The Space Division commander would serve as the vice commander of

Space Command. As General Hartinger explained, the command would provide

a focus for centralized planning, consolidated requirements and an

operational advocate and honest broker for USAF space systems . We will

provide the operational pull to go along with the technology push which

has been the dominate factor in the space world since its inception .

At the same time, the Air Force established a Space Technology Center at Kirtland

Air Force Base, New Mexico, which consolidated the functions of three key Air

Force Systems Command laboratories dealing with space-related research on

geophysics, rocket propulsion, and weapons."

The official news release concluded with the intriguing statement, "It is the Air

Force's hope and belief that Space Command will develop quickly into a unified

command." Why, in view of consistent Air Force opposition to such a move for

more than twenty years, did the service suddenly reverse itself? Clearly, in the early

198os, the argument made by Admiral Arleigh Burke in 1959 and 196o appeared

more valid . At the same time, the price for the Navy's acceptance of an Air Force

space command apparently was Air Force agreement to form a unified command.

General O'Malley's Space Operations Steering Committee had provided what most

observers assumed would be the alternative to ensure Air Force dominance in military space operations while satisfying Army and Navy concerns . The plan for an Air

Force space command developed by General Chain's Space Operations Steering

Committee called for a joint command, but it purposely left open the question of

205
command would permit representation from the other services, similar to Aerospace Defense Command in its role as a specified command, while preserving Air

Force management and command prerogatives. According to committee members,

the proposed public announcement of the new Space Command first went to

General O'Malley for approval without any mention of a unified command. They

assumed that he understood a specified command would be the logical choice . After

a meeting between General O'Malley and Vice Admiral Gordon R. Nagler, Director

of Command and Control in the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations, however,

the announcement included the final sentence calling for the prompt formation of a

unified command. Afterward, committee members lamented that they had not been

more specific about the need to select the specified command option . On the other

hand, it is equally likely that General O'Malley found that Admiral Nagler's price for

cooperation was the unified command alternative ."

President Reagan used the occasion of July 4th to announce his new national

space policy, which appeared in his administration's National Security Council

Decision Directive 42. According to the White House policy statement, the basic

defense objectives would embrace strengthening the nation's security, creating a

Defense Department-NASA cooperative effort to ensure the Shuttle's use for national security and accord such missions launch priority, and deploying an operational

antisatellite weapon. The latter received special mention as a specific program. The

president also stressed the importance of satellite survivability and durability, once

again highlighting his oft-repeated concern for command, control, communications, and intelligence (C3t) effectiveness . The new policy initiative also created a

senior interagency group to implement space policy and "to provide a forum. . . for

orderly and rapid referral" ofpolicy matters to the president. The president's space

policy clearly gave more attention to the national space program and the military

significance of space."

The new Defense Department space policy complemented the President's

national policy by stressing the need for a warfighting capability in space, and it had

as its major theme the view of space as a theater of operations rather than a mission .

General Charles A. Gabriel, the new Air Force Chief of Staff, incorporated this longheld viewpoint ofmany space advocates into the Air Force's manual on basic doctrine, AFM i-i, published in March 1984 and, perhaps more importantly, in the first

manual on space doctrine, AFM 1-6, issued in October 1982. Begun as early as 1977,

the new doctrinal statement for space seemed to solve, once and for all, the issue of

whether space should be considered a medium or a mission . As General Gabriel

proclaimed, "space is the ultimate high ground . . . the outer reaches of the Air Force's

operational medium-the aerospace, which is the total expanse beyond the earth's

surface . Space, then, is an operational environment that can be used for conducting

206
credible warfighting capability across the spectrum of conflict. From the battlefield

to the highest orbit, airpower will provide that capability:" He then proceeded to

outline military interests in space, along with Air Force functions and missions.

The latter included various means of performing warfighting missions by way of

ground- or space-based weapon systems "consistent with national policy and

national security requirements :' Emphasis throughout centered on space as a

medium that contributed to all Air Force mission areas . Although General Gabriel

did not accompany the doctrinal publication with a formal Air Force policy

statement to update General Jones' July 1977 letter, Air Staff officers expected

one to appear the following year."

At the time the new Air Force space doctrine appeared, Air Staff planners were

working with Defense Department officials on several comprehensive plans for

space requirements and systems, using as a basis the Space Policy and Requirements

Study of the previous year. In the spring of 1982, for example, General O'Malley had

charged the Air Staff's Space Directorate to chair a study of space surveillance

systems, termed Space Surveillance Architecture Study 2000, which they expected

to complete the following spring. More important, however, proved to be General

O'Malley's initiative of December 1982, a comprehensive approach to space policy,

the space threat, and systems and technologies titled Space Systems Architecture

2000 . Chaired by the new Space Command and including participants from the Air

Staff, Air Force major commands, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Defense Communications Agency, this effort focused on preparation of a plan that would provide

the basis for the administration's entire defense modernization initiative ."

The Air Force had reached a milestone on the space issue by the end of 1982. On

the eve of President Reagan's announcement of the Strategic Defense Initiative in

March 1983, which would center on space capabilities, Air Force leaders could rely

on doctrine as developed in AFM 1-6, a new Space Command to centralize operational space activities, and broad-based planning efforts then underway to chart the

nation's future course in space. At long last, the Air Force had committed itself to an

operational space future.

An Ending and a Point of Departure

The creation of an operational space command represented the victory of the "space

cadets," those intrepid believers in the central importance of space to the Air Force

future. A decade earlier they could not be considered in the mainstream of Air

Force policy, plans, and operations. Space, declared its supporters, constituted a

medium, a place for enhancing established mission elements, rather than a mission

in itself. While this approach proved important for preserving the Air Force claim

on space, it failed to attract strong advocacy for space programs or loyalty through207
munity that seemed more comfortable within the world of research and development than in an operational environment .

Over the course of the 1970s the forces for change propelled space into the

operational arena. Pressure came from many areas, both in and outside the Air

Force. The altered perception of the Soviet military threat compelled even reluctant

leaders, like President Jimmy Carter, to focus on space in order to make the nation's

defensive posture credible. When political leaders encountered a space community

in disarray, they moved to promote strong policy and organizational reforms . The

Air Force could not but respond to this kind of outside pressure, but building

consensus internally for space required time, patience, and far greater understanding among senior leaders than was forthcoming in the 1970s. By the end of the

decade, the studies, the conferences, the committee deliberations, the space symposia, all contributed to the necessary "socialization" process that created an appreciation for space previously absent in the Air Force. While these forces were at work,

the space systems themselves demonstrated that they no longer should be considered experimental and part of the research and development side of the Air Force.

Above all, the imminent arrival of the Space Shuttle made space operations a

leading issue, and the various organizational initiatives of the research and development community could not halt the momentum toward centralized space operations . Pushed from without and buffeted from within, Air Force leaders acted as

much to avoid external dictation as they did to direct the elements for change

within the service.

If the creation of the Air Force's Space Command served as an end point to the

long struggle ofthe space reformers, it also represented a point of departure, a

major step on the road to making space an integral part of the service . The challenges ahead appeared formidable. Possessing few resources, the new command

would have to acquire space systems scattered among various Air Force commands,

not all ofwhich would gladly relinquish their forces . Effective command relationships would have to be established between Space Command and the research and

development organizations, the other services, and most likely in the near future, a

new unified space command. Above all, the new Air Force command would have

to prove itself worthy of the space enthusiasts who saw in its formation the best

means of institutionalizing space within the Air Force.

208
CHAPTER

From:

The

Capability

Consolidation

in.

led

consolidating

needs.

led

in.

operational

tions.

what

.

provide

.

Buoyed

defense,

systems

.

chart.

difficult.

tional

space

.

authorities

space

units .
only an initial achievement in the struggle to move space out of the shadow of

research and development and into the realm of the warfighter.

Ironically, the crisis produced by the Challenger tragedy in early 1986 created

further momentum for an operational space focus. The explosion of the Shuttle led

to a nearly three-year hiatus in the nation's space program, during which leaders

quickly realized the old truth that one could not have a space program without the

means to get to space. The immediate concern centered on space launch, as military

officials reexamined the policy of relying on the Shuttle for military space requirements. Their investigations led to reemergence of expendable boosters as the

primary launch vehicles for military space systems, and to the end of the Shuttle's

promise of routine access to space with manned, reusable space vehicles . A return

to the dependable booster, however, did not mean a return to business as usual.

Beyond the issue of space launch, the Shuttle disaster precipitated a widespread

crisis of confidence in both the civilian and military space programs. In the atmosphere of self-doubt during the last halfof the decade, a variety of studies and

reports reassessed the objectives and capabilities of the nation's space program. Of

these, the most important for military space proved to be the Air Force Blue Ribbon Panel investigation in late 1988 . Distinguished panel members representing all

segments of the Air Force gave the panel's recommendations a degree of credibility

absent in earlier studies . Their assessment of space policy, the role of the Air Force

in space, and ofspace in the Air Force established a firm basis for the broad process

of"normalizing" space, or for gradually establishing the view that space activities

were operational rather than developmental in nature . As operational activities,

space operations contributed to achieving Air Force missions just as much as more

traditional service activities .'

Strongly supported by the Blue Ribbon Panel, the movement to normalize and

operationalize space in the late 198os centered on Air Force Space Command.` By

the end of the decade, this newest Air Force major command had acquired a considerable number of space-based and ground-based space systems, as well as control of

the infrastructure to support them. It appeared well on its way to establishing an

effective relationship with the unified space command as well as with other civilian

and military agencies in the space arena. Above all, Air Force Space Command

achieved a landmark victory in its struggle to assume operational responsibilities

performed previously by the research and development community when, in 19go,

it won operational control of the space launch mission . Almost equally important

proved to be the incremental transfer ofsatellite control activities to the new

Space Command was redesignated Air Force Space Command on 15 November 1985 .

21 0
alizing space within the Air Force.

At the end of a decade of consolidation and crisis, the Air Force space program

had reached a major milestone in the evolution of military space systems from the

developer to the operator. Air Force leaders directed their attention to the needs of

the warfighter as they sought to make space launch more responsive and space systems more applicable for tactical commanders. Their achievement would soon be

put to the test in regional conflict .

Space Command Sets an Operational Agenda

The formation of Space Command on 1 September 1982, the first major command

created by the Air Force in thirty years, represented both an end and a beginning.

At long last space advocates had convinced the Air Force community that space deserved representation among the operational commands. In an increasingly

complex arena, the ad hoc management methods that had resulted in a fragmented

space community could no longer be justified . On the other hand, establishing a

space command proved only a point of departure . In late 1982 the new command

faced the daunting challenge of acquiring ground- and space-based systems,

providing an operational focus for the use of space, and serving as the organization

best suited to "sell" space to the Air Force. More specifically, the command's initial

mission statement, as described in Air Force Regulation 23-51, dated 25 July 1983,

included responsibility to manage and operate space assets, consolidate planning,

define requirements, provide operational advocacy, and "ensure the close interface

between research and operational users." Generally, the command sought to achieve

its agenda by expediting the transition of space systems from research and development to operations, and by increasing the evolution of space system applications

from national or strategic requirements to those most appropriate to support

theater or tactical warfighters 1

Space Command began auspiciously with the transfer from the Strategic Air

Command (SAC) in 1983 of fifty space and missile warning systems, bases, units,

and upgrade projects .` The initial list included Peterson Air Force Base, Colorado,

location of the command's headquarters, as well as Thule and Sondrestrom Air

Bases in Greenland and Clear Air Force Station in Alaska . Space Command also

would own Falcon Air Force Station, located near Peterson and designated the

future home of the Consolidated Space Operations Center (CSOC) . By early 1984

SAC also had relinquished four major space systems, two operational-the Defense

Meteorological Satellite Program (DMSP) and Defense Support Program (DSP)-

See Appendix 6-1.
DMSP. The transfer of the Defense Meteorological Satellite Program from Strategic

Air Comand to Space Command in 1983 in itself represented an evolutionary shift

from strategic to tactical operational applications. In December 1982, shortly after

creation of Space Command, the trouble-plagued program achieved a new level of

performance with the successful launch from Vandenberg Air Force Base, California, of the first block 5D-2 satellite on an Atlas booster. An Atlas and apogee kick

motor launched a second 5D-2 satellite into proper orbit on 17 November 1983,

where its Operational Linescan System telescope performed flawlessly in scanning a

swath 16oo nautical miles wide thereby covering the globe in nearly 12 hours.

Imagery ofcloud cover picked up by the optical and infrared detectors, as well as

moisture content, temperature, and ionospheric monitoring data, could be stored

for later transmission or immediately downlinked to Air Force Global Weather

Center at Offutt Air Force Base, Nebraska, or readout stations, one at Loring Air

Force Base, Maine, and the other under construction at Fairchild Air Force Base,

Washington, as well as numerous tactical terminals deployed worldwide on land

and aboard ships. Real-time data received by the terminals reached field commanders to support tactical military operations. Down-linked transmissions passed

directly to the Navy Fleet Numerical Oceanography Center at Monterey, California,

prior to their merging with Commerce Department satellite data and, then, went to

Defense Department users through a global network of weather stations . Ongoing

improvements in subsequent 5D-2 satellites included plans for more reliable inertial

measurement units and celestial sensor assembly units, computers with larger

memories, and more efficient solar array panels.'

At the same time, planners looked ahead to a new type of satellite, referred to as

Block 5D-3, which would be designed for launch either on the Space Shuttle or on

an expendable booster. Hoping to begin development in 1986, officials worried that

designing and building a Shuttle-compatible satellite would delay delivery of the

first Block 5D-3 spacecraft by a year. Moreover, funding constraints threatened to

delay the next two in the series, which could leave an additional gap in orbital

coverage. Planners thus began considering use ofrefurbished Titan II missiles as

launch vehicles . As with the other satellite programs, future progress would depend

on the Space Shuttle's development and the solution of ongoing technical and

budget challenges.

DSP. Space Command also gained operational control of the Defense Support

Program, the central element in the nation's space-based early warning system that

monitored missile launches and nuclear detonations . The three operational satellites, each measuring 21 feet high by 1o feet in diameter, contained a telescopic

212
electronics within the infrared sensor helped to discriminate between signals

representing missile launches and other radiation sources . Computers housed in the

system's two ground stations completed the process of signal discrimination . An

improved satellite, designated #12, had received a modified star sensor, new power

supplies for command decryption units, and an upgraded nuclear detection

package. Following deployment of a DSP satellite in early 1984 aboard a Titan 34D/

Transtage combination, future satellites of this kind would be configured for launch

by the Space Shuttle .'

Milstar. In 1983, Space Command received management responsibility from SAC

for the extremely high frequency (EHF) joint-service Military Strategic and Tactical

Relay System (Milstar) program, then in the early stages of satellite concept definition and communications terminal development . Defense Department officials

planned for Milstar to provide worldwide jam-resistant voice communications for

the National Command Authorities and, ultimately, to serve as the main element in

the Military Satellite Communications System (MILSATCOM), replacing the Navy's

Fleet Satellite Communications System (FLTSATCOM), the Air Force Satellite

Communications System (AFSATCOM), and multiuser Defense Satellite Communications System (DSCS) networks. The Air Force contracted through Lockheed

Missiles and Space Company for development ofthe satellite and control system,

while MIT's Lincoln Laboratory prepared a Milstar-compatible device for use on

Fleet Satellite Communications spacecraft in order to support operational testing of

terminals . The Navy supervised terminal development by each of the services to

ensure commonality and sufficient logistical support. Air Force planners looked

to the Space Shuttle as the future launch vehicle for Milstar in the late 198os or

early 199os. 6

Meanwhile, the Defense Department's main long-haul moderate-to-high-datarate communications satellite system, the super high frequency (SHF) Defense

Satellite Communications System (DSCS), also progressed by means of the launch

in late 1982 of the first DSCS III satellite, which joined the three DSCS II satellites in

geostationary orbit and achieved full operational status in May 1983 . The new satellite benefited from improved physical and electronic survivability measures, while

21 new ANIGSC-39 medium terminals replaced the obsolete ground terminals, and

work continued to convert the entire system from analog to digital transmission by

the end of the decade. Although the Air Force retained responsibility for the space

or satellite segment, overall management responsibility remained with the Defense

Communications Agency rather than being transferred to Space Command. The

Army continued its responsibility for the ground segment, which planners expected

to improve with the addition of five fixed and six mobile operations centers.

21 3
Navstar GPS. When turned over to Space Command in early 1984, the Navstar Global Positioning System project was nearing the end of its successful validation phase,

during which a limited constellation of five to seven prototype Block I satellites,

orbiting at an altitude of 1o,9oo nautical miles, provided navigation signals transmitted from atomic clocks through a 12-element antenna array to various types of

user equipment . The GPS control segment consisted of several monitor stations, a

master control station, and ground antennas . Improved Block II satellites for the

operational system would have nuclear-protective hardness, longer and more

accurate navigation signals, and measures to prohibit unauthorized use. Although

Rockwell International had experienced problems building and testing the new

satellites, the company still planned to meet the schedule, which called for the initial

launch aboard the Shuttle in October 1986 with a Payload Assist Module (PAM-D11)

upper-stage vehicle .'

By the end of 1987, planners expected GPS to provide worldwide, two-dimensional coverage 24 hours daily and, when fully deployed as a 21-satellite constellation

(18 operational spacecraft and 3 spares) in December 1988, full worldwide threedimensional coverage that would enable users to determine their position to within

15 meters fifty percent of the time and 27 meters ninety percent of the time. By then,

the master control station would be functioning in the Consolidated Space Operations Center, which the Air Force began to construct in 1983 at Falcon Air Force

Station, Colorado, while a monitor station would be installed at nearby Peterson Air

Force Base. The deployed system would rely on three types of user sets already undergoing testing in aircraft, on naval surface vessels, in wheeled and tracked vehicles,

and by foot soldiers . The Defense Department hoped future funding would permit

the purchase between 1984 and 1997 a total of 23,000 improved user sets that relied

on more sophisticated software programming. Although the Air Force served as

resource (program) manager, GPS continued as a joint-service program. There were

deputy program managers from the Army, which handled the ground segment, and

the Navy and Marine Corps, as well as the Defense Mapping Agency, Department of

Transportation, and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) .'

Together with the space infrastructure transfers, the four satellite programs

provided Space Command a strong initial space system foundation to build upon

over the course of the decade. As demonstrated by the command's early experience

with the Strategic Air Command (SAC), the effort proved difficult . Despite its

willingness to divest itself of missile warning and space surveillance systems, SAC

sought to retain a strong operational voice in the control of space systems in the

period prior to formation of the unified space command in the fall of1985 . SAC's

attempt to preserve an operational hand in the Navstar GPS program, for example,

21 4
Bennie L. Davis and his staff proposed that resource management for future spacebased systems be divided between operational resource management and support

resource management. While General James V Hartinger's command would retain

responsibility for support management, the operational issue would be determined

by a particular system's mission . Arguing that systems are independent ofthe

"basing" mode and that unity of command should not be violated, Davis and his

staff believed offensive-oriented space systems should be subject to SAC's direction

while Space Command should retain resource management responsibility for

defensive strategic systems . SAC also turned to the traditional Air Force view of the

nature of space to argue its case. If space represented a place and not a missionhence a medium where space assets could satisfy a variety of missions for a number

of commanders-Space Command should not attempt to own all space assets in

order to perform a space "mission ." According to General Davis, SAC, as an operational user, should be accorded basic responsibilities to "advocate, deploy and

employ strategic offensive systems in the space environment" through operational

resource management. 9

General Hartinger countered by arguing that the SAC proposal would further

fragment the space operations structure, confuse the wider Air Force community,

and heighten the "current level of ambiguity." Although the close personal ties

between Generals Davis and Hartinger, along with formation of United States Space

Command in September 1985, served to alleviate the immediate problem between

the two commands, the controversy suggested the difficulties Space Command

would continue to face as it moved to consolidate its position as the operational

command for the space "mission .""

Air Force Systems Command proved to be a more challenging obstacle to Space

Command's pretensions to operational space leadership. In this case, the historical

role of the research and development command in space operations made it a

reluctant participant in the movement to transfer operational control of space assets

to the fledgling command. Space Command's mission statement included its

responsibility to "ensure close interface between research and operational users,"

and the appointment ofAir Force System Command's Space Division commander

as vice commander of Space Command until 1 October 1985 contributed to this end.

Yet the larger issue of when the point arrived at which a space system moved from

"experimental" to "operational" remained open to debate . Given the complex,

unique nature of the space environment and the systems functioning in the medium, Air Force Systems Command questioned the competence of the "inexperienced" operational command and favored lengthy on-orbit checkout procedures

and repeated use to achieve "commonality" and consistency of operations before

turning over systems to Space Command."

21 5
Command acquire the Air Force Satellite Control Network. The Consolidated Space

Operations Center (CSOC) represented the network's primary operational element .

Although construction of the CSOC began in May 1983, it seemed an inordinately

lengthy process to Air Force Space Command before it became operational in

March 1989, two years after the projected date for initial operational capabilities for

GPS and DSP. Air Force Systems Command argued that funding, management, and

technical problems, together with evolving requirements, accounted for the

"delayed" turnovers . In 1986 and 1987, studies of the CSOC's capabilities determined

that current and programmmed CSOC facilities and equipment could not support

intensive launch recovery operations forecast for the early 199os. As a result, planners decided to build a new mission control center in space made available when

construction of the CSOC's Shuttle Operations and Planning Complex was canceled

after the Challengerdisaster. This requirement further delayed completion ofthe

CSOC. While Air Force Space Command became the resource manager of the Air

Force Satellite Control Network in 1987, Air Force Systems Command retained

several important responsibilities, including operation of the Satellite Test Center

at Onizuka Air Force Station, California . Not until 1993 would Air Force Space

Command receive final turnover of the CSOC, thus completing the transfer ofall

Air Force Satellite Control Network elements and responsibilities . 'I

Space launch would remain the responsibility of the research and development

command until the fall of 199o when Air Force Space Command gained authority

to begin a phased takeover. Even then, only strong pressure from Air Force headquarters and Defense Department officials compelled Air Force Systems Command

and its Space Division to comply. The space launch issue represented the most intriguing and important element in the development ofAir Force Space Command

as the operational focal point of Air Force and Defense Department space operations. From the vantage point of 199o, official studies and histories note that Air

Force Space Command had focused on acquiring the space launch mission since its

activation in 1982 . Before the Challenger catastrophe, the launch issue created little

controversy between Air Force Systems Command and Air Force Space Command.

In November 1982 the new operational command received responsibility for Space

Shuttle contingency operations. When completed, the CSOC would provide Air

Force Space Command not only control of satellite operations through its management of the facility's Satellite Operations Complex but also an active role in Defense

Department Shuttle operations through its participation with Air Force Systems

Comand in the operation of the collocated Shuttle Operations and Planning

Complex (SOPC) . Concerned about Air Force System Command's deliberate

approach to turning over space systems, Space Command sought and obtained an

agreement in 1984 whereby the two commands recognized that Space Command

216
tional" because each launch involved unique payload and mission demands. As

such, space launch did not represent an operational task and should be omitted

from the agreement. Space Command concurred . With the Shuttle designated as

the primary space launch vehicle for all future Defense Department missions, Space

Command expected to gain responsibility for the bulk of the space launch mission

with activation of the CSOC. Later, when expendable launch vehicles gained a new

lease on life after the Challenger tragedy, Air Force Space Command would reopen

the issue of space launch responsibility."

A United States Space Command Joins the Space Community

On 23 September 1985, Space Command's position in the military space arena received an additional challenge with the creation of United States Space Command,

a unified command for space operations directly responsible to the Joint Chiefs of

Staff. When the Air Force announced its intention to establish its own Space

Command in May 1982, the official statement expressed the view that "it is the Air

Force's hope and belief that Space Command will develop quickly into a unified

command."" By early 1983, all signs pointed to the imminent creation of a unified

operational command for the military space activities ofall the services as the "next

logical step" to centralize and maximize space operational effectiveness . Yet twentyfive years earlier, Air Force leaders had strongly opposed the Navy's repeated

attempts to diminish the growing Air Force space mission by proposing a unified

command. Now the two sides had reversed positions. What had happened? Clearly

the world of military space had undergone remarkable changes in the previous

quarter century. While Air Force responsibility for space by the mid-198os embraced

70 percent of all Defense Department space systems and 8o percent of the budget,

program management had to be shared with the other services, as well as Defense

Department and civilian agencies. Moreover, the increasing reliability and effectiveness of second- and third-generation space systems created greater support from a

growing user communityfor a single Defense Department organizational focus for

space operations. In the final analysis, establishment of a unified United States

Space Command proved to be a prerequisite for Navy and Army approval of an Air

Force Space Command."

The Defense Department's space policy of June 1982 and President Reagan's

national space policy of July 4th of that year focused on ready access to space and

the importance of military space by stressing the need to integrate into operational

commands survivable space assets that supported tactical applications . The initial

impetus ofthe administration's new policy led to the creation of the Air Force's

Space Command on 1 September 1982. At the same time, the Joint Chiefs of Staff

polled the warfighting commanders-in-chief (CINCs) for their views on space

21 7
General Hartinger and his staff developed procedures and a rationale for a unified

space command that would involve his Air Force major command as the "core"

component of the unified command. As such, the Air Force would take the lead in

coordinating all American military space operations, and he would serve as commander of both the unified and major commands, as well as the North American

Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) ."

Above all, the planning and support for a unified space command received a crucial boost from President Reagan's Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI). On 23 March

1983 President Reagan concluded a dramatic speech on national defense by proposing a major national-and later international-program to develop technologies

capable of defending against ballistic missiles . In ringing tones he declared, "I call

upon the scientific community in our country, those who gave us nuclear weapons,

to turn their great talents now to the cause of mankind and world peace, to give us

the means of rendering these nuclear weapons impotent and obsolete." If achieved,

gone would be the 196os doctrine of Mutual Assured Destruction which relied on

massive nuclear retaliation as the ultimate deterrent. In its place, Reagan proposed

Mutual Assured Survival, a "positive" alternative strategy based on strategic defensive systems capable of destroying ballistic missiles in flight, leading to the objective

ofeliminating the threat of ballistic missiles entirely. The proposed change in the

nation's space policy represented an enormous break with past developments

because, if accepted and funded by Congress, it would permit weapons in space."

To some, the Strategic Defense Initiative, as the administration eventually termed

the President's proposal, appeared visionary. Others found it naive and more

suitable to the "Star Wars" label it quickly received, suggesting a saga out of science

fiction, as in the 1977 motion picture of the same name. In any case, SDI clearly

turned the spotlight of attention on strategic aerospace defense in unprecedented

fashion. President Reagan's speech had an electric effect on the space community.

Because SDI would clearly be dependent on space-based systems, it compelled

officials to review the entire role of space in military operations. In effect, SDI

provided additional incentive and broader support to proceed with a unified space

command, which seemed the sensible organization to become the operational focus

for SDI planning and systems operations.

When the Joint Chiefs of Staff in April 1983 requested suggestions for the best

organizational means of supporting SDI, General Hartinger responded with his proposal for a unified command. He immediately realized the potential of SDI to enhance the importance of his command, and he hoped Space Command would

become responsible for Air Force participation in the test program. In June, Air

Force Chief of Staff General Charles Gabriel concurred on the need for a unified

command. The Navy's decision to activate its own space command on 1 October

21 8
Early in 1984 General Gabriel and Air Force Secretary Verne Orr, in a joint

statement, reaffirmed Air Force support for a unified command by asserting that

"no single military organization exercises operational authority over military space

systems in peace, war, and the transition period from peace to war." Late that year

President Reagan approved the recommendation from the Secretary of Defense and

the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Following extensive studies on roles and missions, the

United States Space Command was activated on 23 September 1985 . Appropriately,

on hand for the ceremony was retired Admiral Arleigh Burke, who had unsuccessfully championed the cause of a unified command in 1959 and 196o.

`9

The Growing Conflict Over Space Roles and Missions

As proposed by General Hartinger, the arrangement also called for the unified

commander-in-chief to serve as commander ofAir Force Space Command and

commander-in-chief of NORAD. From the start the command structure created

tension and raised issues similar to those that earlier beset the Air/Aerospace

Defense Command. 10 As NORAD commander-in-chief, General Hartinger needed

to deal with a Canadian partner that had never been comfortable with SAC'S control

of "defensive" space assets from 1979 to 1982 and, now, had grave reservations about

its own role in the Strategic Defense Initiative. Moreover, the unified command

received operational control of the missile warning and space surveillance missions,

which meant that its personnel exercised peacetime as well as wartime control over

Air Force space assets in the Cheyenne Mountain Complex's Space Surveillance and

Missile Warning Centers . The issue of peacetime control remained relatively unimportant as long as the same individual headed the unified and major Air Force

commands; but in October 1986, the Air Force elected to separate leadership of the

commands, leaving Air Force Space Command with a two- rather than four-star

general and without responsibility for day-to-day operation of crucial space

resources . As a result, the space roles and missions debate would resurface with a

vengeance in the last half of the decade as the Air Force sought to redefine its

institutional commitment to space. z '

The saga ofthe Air Force Space Plan, as well as various other doctrinal and

mission statements, also reflected tension between Air Force Space Command and

Air Force Systems Command, specifically, and within the Air Force, generally, as the

space community attempted to develop a uniform approach to space operations.

Just over a year after its activation, on 18 November 1983, Space Command accepted

custodianship of the Space Plan, the first approved by the Air Staff since the early

196os. This seemed entirely appropriate given the command's mission responsibility

to "consolidate planning . . ., define requirements . . ., and provide advocacy . . . for Air

Force space issues ." The Air Staff viewed the document as a comprehensive,

21 9
ensure continued procurement and funding support . Air Force leaders also considered the plan an educational tool that embodied corporate thinking on space and,

thus, could help institutionalize space within the service ."

Planners hoped to update the Space Plan periodically to reflect the evolving space

community. When Space Command received the plan in 1983, it became responsible

for 21 of the required 37 actions to implement the document. By the end of 1984 the

command had completed 1o actions. Although most requirements could be

completed without difficulty, Space Command repeatedly failed to reach agreement

with the Air Staff and U.S . Space Command on interpretation of appropriate

mission area functions . What appeared to be minor differences over space operational terminology in fact represented profound disagreement on proper roles and

missions, as well as widespread uncertainty on the role of space in the Air Force.

The document, which was expected to help unify the Air Force on space, actually

became more of a hindrance ."

The Air Force Space Plan described the general uses of military space and identified four specific terms for space operations. "Space control" involved maintaining

freedom of action in space and denying the same to the enemy. "Space support"

referred to the deployment, maintenance, and sustenance of equipment and

personnel in space, primarily by means of space launch and on-orbit repair or

recovery. "Force enhancement" referred to traditional defense support functions

such as communications, navigation, and weather designed to "enhance" terrestrial

and space-based forces . "Force application" referred to the performance of combat

functions from space.

14

Air Force Space Command asserted that the use of this terminology in Defense

Department space policy and in the Air Force as a whole differed in key respects

from policy followed by U.S . Space Command, which relied for guidance on JCS

Publication Number 1 and the Unified Command Plan. The unified space command focused on two mission areas, space control and space support, and subsumed under these areas force enhancement and force application. According to

U.S . Space Command, space control involved all aspects of the space defense

mission, including force application, while space support involved force enhancement functions . Air Force Space Command's staff especially opposed the unified

command's interpretation of space support. The major command's planning chief,

Brigadier General G. Wesley Clark, for example, explained that for U.S . Space

Command, the space support function included support to terrestrial forces,

an employment function that rightfully fell within its area of responsibility. It

See Appendix 6-2.

220
Force and should be assigned to Air Force Space Command. To clarify the situation

and to avoid promoting the wrong perception of the nature of space operations,

General Clark proposed that space support be subdivided into "space combat

support" and "space service support," with U.S . Space Command responsible for the

former and Air Force Space Command the latter, which would also involve coordination with NASA.

In effect, Air Force Space Command proposed modifying the traditional mission

functions with special terminology to account for the unique nature of operating in

space. Neither U.S . Space Command nor the Air Staff, however, proved amenable to

the changes . By 1985 the Air Force Space Command staff successfully incorporated

into its draft revision the results of various studies, such as Space Systems Architecture 2000, operational intelligence and antisatellite plans, satellite control architecture, and a military man-in-space plan that examined military roles for the Shuttle's

Spacelab program. Nevertheless, the Air Force Space Command's Space Plan

repeatedly failed to gain Air Staff approval. Likewise, disagreement over space

terminology plagued every effort by Air Force Space Command to achieve consensus on space operational doctrine and a revised command mission statement . The

different interpretations of space terminology reflected the larger issue of appropriate command responsibilities that continued to divide the parties . Indeed, throughout the 198os all attempts to update the Space Plan, revise the command's mission

statement, and publish operational space doctrine floundered. The failure to produce a revised Space Plan suggests the difficulty ofreaching consensus within the

Air Force space community, which sought to make space an accepted "mission"

throughout the service."

Nevertheless, by mid-decade, space operators could point to major achievements in the establishment and growth of both Air Force Space Command and the

U.S . Space Command. To be sure, command relationships needed sorting out and a

reluctant Air Force Systems Command would require considerable prodding before

relinquishing its traditional hold on space systems . Even so, Air Force space leaders

had good reason for optimism in the era of the Space Shuttle. After 1986, however,

Air Force space issues would be played out against the background of the Challenger

tragedy, which forever altered the landscape of future national space operations.

The Challenger Disaster Creates an Uncertain Launch Future

NASA had expected a triumphant but routine mission ofthe orbiter Challenger on

28 January 1986 in celebration ofthe Space Shuttle's twenty-fifth flight . Initiating

use of the nation's second Shuttle pad at the Kennedy Space Center, Mission 51-L

was to launch the "first teacher in space," Christa McAuliffe, perform unprecedented observations of Halley's Comet, and deploy one of the space agency's

221
Eastern Standard Time. Just 73 seconds after liftoff, a massive explosion destroyed

the spacecraft, killing all seven crew members and plunging the nation's space

program into the greatest crisis in its young history.zb

While the nation justifiably focused on the Challenger tragedy, military space officials had additional worries . In early 1986 the Air Force had only begun to recover

from the failure in August 1985 of its Titan 34D rocket, which had to be destroyed

when one of its engines shut down after liftoff and the rocket veered off course .

Then, in April 1986, another Titan 34D exploded over its launch pad at Vandenberg,

and in May NASA lost a Delta rocket . After those launch vehicle failures, space

leaders effectively grounded the space program by prohibiting further flights ofthe

Shuttle and expendable launch vehicles (ELVs) until the problems could be solved .

The nation confronted an ailing space industry and a space program in disarray.

President Reagan appointed a commission chaired by former Secretary ofState

William P Rogers to investigate the Challenger accident. Among other findings, the

commission's exhaustive report, issued on 6 June 1986, concluded that defective

seals between two solid-rocket-motor sections sparked the chain of events that produced the explosion . NASA had much work to do before confidence in manned

spaceflight could be restored ."

Without an assured heavy-lift launch capability, the military space program also

found itself in crisis . The Shuttle had been designated the primary launch vehicle for

all future Defense Department payloads, and the Titan 34Ds had been scheduled

only until the Shuttle achieved its full flight schedule in the late 198os. The Air Force

expected to run out of expendable boosters sometime in 1988. Programs most

immediately affected by the grounding ofthe Shuttle would be the Navstar Global

Positioning System (GPS) and the early warning Defense Support Program, although others would suffer from launch delays and the related "ripple" effect .

Payloads previously manifested for the Shuttle would remain in storage rather

than replenish aging satellite constellations . There, while expensive investigations

continued, they would generate a high cost while officials worried about potential

atrophy and projected booster replacements ."

The Challenger accident proved to be a watershed in the nation's space program.

The moratorium on Shuttle flights, which extended for 31 months, forced civilian

and military leaders to investigate not only the future of space launch but the

nation's entire space program. During the hiatus Air Force officials led the way in

reassessing the military space program. By the time the Shuttle resumed operations

on 29 September 1988, the Defense Department's relationship with NASA had been

transformed and the Air Force had immersed itself in a searching self-examination

of its commitment to space.

222
vehicles had prompted Air Force officials to pursue a "mixed fleet" concept of complementary expendable boosters . Indeed, the Air Force had never been comfortable

with the decision to rely entirely on the Shuttle for space launch. Back in the mid1970s, writers on Air Force issues noted that earlier "resigned acceptance" of the

Shuttle as the space transportation system for both civilian and military users had

evolved into "cautious enthusiasm." After all, Shuttle proponents predicted routine,

high-capacity, fast-turnaround access to space with a schedule of 6o flights per year

(4o at the Kennedy Space Center and 2o at Vandenberg Air Force Base) at half the

cost of expendable boosters. The Shuttle also promised to preserve a manned,

military presence in space and achieve the long-sought goal of normalizing space

operations through standardized, reusable launch vehicles . To maintain funding

and political support for the Shuttle, NASA officials insisted the Defense Department commit to a "Shuttle-only" policy and phase out its fleet of expendable launch

vehicles . The Defense Department agreed ."

A 14 January 1977 Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) between NASA and

the Air Force, as the Defense Department's executive agent for the Shuttle, formally

confirmed Shuttle program responsibilities . NASA would be responsible for Shuttle

development, flight planning, operations, and control, regardless of the user, as well

as landing-site arrangements at the Kennedy Space Center and overall financial

management. The Air Force, for its part, would develop a controlled node at the

Johnson Space Center for classified missions, and supervise integration of military

flights, construct a second launch facility at Vandenberg Air Force Base, and build

an inertial upper stage (IUS) vehicle, a two-stage solid-propellant upper stage carried into orbit in the Shuttle cargo bay, to lift payloads from the Shuttle to higher

altitudes and inclinations . NASA expected to use the IUS for its ambitious planetary

missions. For all intents and purposes, military space launches would be accomplished exclusively by the Space Shuttle. The reusable Shuttle would make the

expendable launcher truly expendable once and for all time. 10

NASA initially expected to begin test flights in 198o. By the spring of 1979, however, agency officials had slipped the initial operating date to early 1981 in light of

technical problems and related cost increases . The technical challenges associated

with the Shuttle's complex design and payload configuration proved more difficult

to master than expected. The Defense Department became alarmed that further

delays would result in an unresponsive space launch program and a diminished

operational flight schedule in the next decade. Critics increasingly faulted NASA's

research and development mentality and called for more military involvement in

Shuttle management. Military concerns prompted Carter administration officials in

1978 and 1979 to conduct high-level policy reviews, which led in March 198o to a

modification of the 1977 NASA-Defense Department agreement. The revised accord

223
Defense Department personnel more directly into NASA's line functions ."

Despite a tilt in the Defense Department's favor, the Air Force remained uneasy

about its commitment to a Shuttle-only policy. In 198o both the Air Force Scientific

Advisory Board and the Defense Science Board addressed the space launch issue .

Citing Shuttle delays, the likely lack of an "on-call" launch capability, and the

general austerity of space launch assets, the two boards proposed a "mixed fleet"

policy of using both the Shuttle and expendable boosters for military payloads. At

this time officials remained uncertain whether the mixed fleet concept should

become a permanent policy or only be pursued until the Shuttle proved capable

of fulfilling its early promise of routine spaceflight ."

Meanwhile, the Air Force had decided to use the Titan 34D as its heavy-lift

booster during transition to the Shuttle, while the IUS would be configured for both

Titan and Shuttle vehicles . By 1982, however, NASA had backed out of the IUS joint

purchase arrangement with the Air Force, which meant higher costs for the Air

Force vehicle. Worried that the IUS two-stage vehicle would be underpowered for

planetary missions, NASA expressed renewed interest in the liquid-propellant

Centaur G, the most powerful upper-stage vehicle in the space arsenal. NASA's flipflop on its commitment to the IUS provided ammunition for critics of the civilian

agency's competence and management practices . 33

By the early 198os, NASA had further lowered its Shuttle flight predictions from

a planned 14 launches in 1984 and 24 per year by 1986 to 5 in 1984 and 13 in 1986 . A

General Accounting Office (GAO) investigation in 1982 noted that the earlier 1977

projected schedule of 487 flights during the first twelve years of operation had been

reduced by more than 50 percent to 234. Although the successful maiden flight of

the Shuttle in April 1981 eased some of the tension between NASA and the Defense

Department, Air Force leaders still were concerned about phasing out expendable

launch vehicles once the Shuttle became operational ."

In October 1981 Air Force Chief of Staff General Lew Allen formally identified as

a problem the total reliance on the Shuttle and called for study of a "mixed fleet"

strategy. The following month Under Secretary of the Air Force and NRO director

Edward C. "Pete" Aldridge, who would become a central figure in the space launch

arena throughout the decade, appeared before the National Space Club in Washington, D.C ., to give a "my views only" assessment of military space issues . Calling for a

"new management structure for our space operations," he asserted that the Air

Force "cannot continue to look to NASA as our country's Launch Service Organization in the Shuttle era." Although he cited as positive the appointment of Major

General James A. Abrahamson as NASA's Associate Administrator for Space Transportation Systems, he argued that the space agency should focus on "developing

civilian space assets and transportation systems" and consider leaving operational

224
observed, "It . . . seems illogical that our only `truck' to deliver our goods to space be

in the form of 3, or 4, or 5 highly complex launch vehicles . Fleet grounding, launch

failures, or both could severely limit our access to space." Aldridge noted that new

presidential science advisor Jay Keyworth had undertaken a study ofthe need for

a mixed-fleet concept ."

Although President Reagan's national space policy statement of 4 July 1982 reaffirmed the Shuttle as the primary launch vehicle, the Air Force sought in 1983 to

ensure a sufficient supply of expendable boosters . It officially proposed a mixedfleet program based on commercial production of the Titan III, along with the

purchase of additional Titan 341)s and refurbishment of Titan II ICBMs. The latter

would be used for launching DMSP payloads . The Titan 341), nearing the end of its

scheduled availability, however, could provide only an interim solution, because it

could not match the Shuttle in launch weight and volume capacity. Moreover, NASA

elected to modify only two of the four Shuttles to handle heavy Defense Department

payloads . By the end of 1983, Under Secretary Aldridge, proclaiming the need for

"assured access to space," outlined growing Air Force support for the additional step

of developing an upgraded Atlas, termed the Atlas II, and a more powerful MartinMarietta Titan. The latter vehicle would consist of a zoo-inch payload fairing to

handle a Shuttle-configured Centaur upper stage and a Shuttle-configured payload ;

it would possess the capability of launching 1o,ooo pounds into geostationary orbit .

Initially referred to as the Titan 34D7 because of its 7 rather than 5° segmented,

solid-rocket motors, it soon became known as the Complementary Expendable

Launch Vehicle (CELV), then later the Titan IV. 36

By early 1984 the Defense Department had accepted the Air Force position . A

"Defense Space Launch Strategy" statement, issued on 23 January, declared that :

while affirming its commitment to the STS [Space Transportation

System], DoD will ensure the availability of an adequate launch

capability to provide flexible and operationally responsive access to

space, as needed for all levels of conflict, to meet the requirements of

national security missions"

In support of an "assured access to space" policy, the defense secretary approved the

Air Force plan to procure 1o Titan 341)7s, or Complementary Expendable Launch

Vehicles. The Air Force hoped to see the CELVs enter the inventory by 1988 to support a schedule of two launches per year.

NASA officials found themselves on the defensive, pleased with neither the prospect ofa competitive booster nor the growing criticism of its relationship with the

military. Critics inside and outside Congress had been castigating the "militarization" of the Shuttle program for several years. The civilian agency, they asserted, had

signed a "pact with the devil" by according the military priority on the Shuttle

225
with the Defense Department. Glynn Lunney, manager of the Space Shuttle

program at Johnson Space Center, even favored strengthening the already close ties .

In late 1983 a General Accounting Office report examined NASA-Defense Department funding disparities and recommended Congress withhold support for the

Shuttle Operations and Planning Complex (SOPC) at Falcon Air Force Station near

Colorado Springs until the Defense Department and NASA developed effective,

long-term operational objectives . In response, Lunney defended the SOPC as

strengthening the "separateness" of military and civilian space activities . He also

saw nothing amiss in NASA's funding of the "national" space transportation system .

From his standpoint, the military earlier had gained experience with unmanned

space systems but had neglected manned spaceflight . "It is now time," he asserted,

"for the DoD to fully embrace and exploit the manned spaceflight capabilities which

NASA has developed for our nation ." Doing so would put the military squarely behind the Shuttle . In early 1984 NASA officials fervently lobbied against the Complimentary Expendable Launch Vehicle because, they said, it would result in lower

Shuttle flight rates and higher costs ."

NASA had another reason for concern when Under Secretary Aldridge called for

commercial production of expendable launch vehicles as a means of providing the

Defense Department more affordable backup boosters . Commercial ELV production

would infringe on NASA's Shuttle marketing operation. In the early 198os, when the

European Space Agency's successful marketing of the Ariane rocket threatened to

corner the commercial satellite market, NASA received permission to promote the

Shuttle commercially at artificially low prices. The American ELV industry, meanwhile, had been blocked from commercial competition and, subsequently, had

suspended production in light of the military's Shuttle-only policy. NASA expected

to recoup its costs later in the decade through cost-effective commercial operations,

but it had based its planning on erroneous estimates of yearly flights, without

accounting for such vagaries as mechanical difficulties, weather delays, and slow

turnaround procedures. After four orbiters and six years ofoperation, Challenger's

January 1986 mission had represented only the twenty-fifth orbiter flight . At the

same time, the producers of satellites had proceeded on the assumption that future

flights would be cheap and frequent. By 1984 the Reagan administration had

become sufficiently concerned about the likely shortfall in NASA's commercial

operations to pass the 1984 Commercial Space Launch Act, which sought to ease the

cumbersome, bureaucratic launch process by centralizing all commercial launches

under the Secretary of Transportation . At the same time, the act also tended to

move NASA out of the private launch business ."

Despite NASA's objections, the Air Force went ahead with a contract in February

1985 for development of the Titan IV. As Under Secretary Aldridge declared, "we

226
National Security directive titled "National Space Strategy," which authorized a

limited number ofELVs as part of the mixed-fleet approach to support "assured

access to space." By that time NASA had dropped its objection to the Air Force's

procurement of ten Titan IVs in return for a Defense Department commitment to

book one-third of all forthcoming Shuttle flights ."

Before a Joint Subcommittee on Space Science and Applications in July 1985,

a number of prominent military space figures addressed the subject of "Assured

Access to Space During the 199os." Congressional officials wanted to know whether

the space leaders favored production of a fifth Shuttle orbiter. General Abrahamson,

now head of the SDI program; Lieutenant General Donald J. Kutyna, Air Force

Director of Space Systems and Command, Control and Communications ; and

General Robert T. Herres, commander-in-chief of NORAD and commander of

Space Command, argued for a limited ELV program and against an additional

Shuttle orbiter. Noting that the early decision to rely on the Shuttle had left little

funding over the years for launch-related technology, they supported an advanced

launch system technology program to replace the Shuttle by the turn of the century.

Air Force Under Secretary Aldridge agreed when he testified before the subcommittee . He expressed concern about the Shuttle's ability to support all scheduled

Defense Department flights in addition to NASA's domestic and foreign commitments. Aldridge declared that, assuming no major delays, four orbiters could likely

meet the Defense Department's expectations-but only with programmed Titan IV

and Titan II payloads as part of the launch plan."

Moreover, the precise heavy-lift requirements for the Strategic Defense Initiative

and NASA's proposed space station were yet to be determined. The technological

initiative for development of a new expendable launch system drew increasing

support following an Air Force Space Command study, the Space Transportation

Architecture Study, which concluded that payload requirements involving SDI and

the space station would likely exceed booster capabilities in the late 19gos. The new

launcher proposal, referred to as the Advanced Launch System (ALS), incorporated

the Strategic Defense Initiative Organization's requirement for a heavy-lift vehicle

capable of launching 150,000 pounds into low-earth orbit . The Air Force also

expressed interest in such a vehicle, which would have three times the lifting

capacity of the Space Shuttle. By the end of the decade, the ALS program would be

restructured to promote new booster technology for a variety ofrequirements ."

On the eve of the Challenger disaster, the Shuttle remained the centerpiece of

America's space launch program. Although the Air Force's commitment to the

Shuttle as its primary launch vehicle had been tempered by diminishing expectations, it hoped that the addition of a limited number of "mixed fleet" expendable

boosters would aid in realizing the Shuttle's lofty promise . The foresight and

227
The Response to the Challenger Shock Waves

In the aftermath of the Challenger disaster and the expendable booster failures, the

nation's launch activities came to a near standstill while officials awaited the Rogers

Commission report amidst widespread soul-searching and public criticism . A

variety of"experts," with the benefit of hindsight, claimed to have foreseen the

disaster and the policy failure that led the nation to rely solely on the Shuttle for

America's space launch future."

During the moratorium on Shuttle flights, NASA conducted political damage

control and turned to the military for assistance . As part of its recovery plan, NASA

appointed Admiral Richard H. Truly as Associate Administrator for Space Flight,

Space Division Commander Lieutenant General Forrest S. McCartney as Director of

the Kennedy Space Center, and also turned for advice to its former deputy director

of the Apollo program, General Samuel C. Phillips . Not only did NASA specifically

request help in a variety of areas, it agreed that military missions should take

precedence on future Space Shuttle flights . It also agreed to a temporary mixed-fleet

space launch policy. At the same time, the administration ordered NASA out of the

commercial launch business, which opened the door to a resurgence ofthe expendable launch vehicle business .14

Moreover, when the Rogers Commission report appeared in June 1986, it advocated a Space Shuttle with lower weight and payload capabilities and a conservative

launch schedule. The Air Force interpreted this as more reason to focus on dependable unmanned boosters, and worked to find launch vehicles for its delayed

inventory of satellites . As the Shuttle launch schedule showed increasingly lengthy

delays, the Air Force estimated that as many as 25 payloads would be affected and

that the launch backload could not be overcome before 1992. As the situation

unfolded, satellites currently in orbit would help by functioning well beyond their

original design lifetimes . Nevertheless, the launch delay created a major challenge

that would leave nearly a three-year gap without alternative launchers and would

raise important questions about the future of the nation's space industrial base."

Most seriously affected were the operational Global Positioning System (GPS)

satellite constellation, the early warning Defense Support Program (DSP), and the

satellites controlled by the National Reconnaissance Office. Defense Department

planners had programmed these payloads exclusively for Shuttle launches. The Air

Force moved immediately to reinforce its expendable launch arsenal . By July 1986

the Air Force had recommended producing an additional 13 Titan IVs, as well as 12

new medium-launch Delta II vehicles to help perform GPS flights beginning in 1989,

two years behind schedule. The Delta II proved to be the only booster that resulted

directly from the Shuttle crisis . The Air Force expected to launch DSP satellites on

228
Milstar on Titan IVs. At the same time, the service strongly supported Advanced

Launch System studies designed to determine a successor launch vehicle to the

Shuttle and Titan IV .`6

The Air Force's decision to focus on expendable launch vehicles seemed more

credible when NASA announced in May 1987that Shuttle flights would resume in

June rather than February of 1988 and would be limited to 14 instead of 24 per year.

Moreover, only lighter payloads would be flown. Under Secretary Aldridge responded by calling for an additional 25 Titan IVs, Titan launch pads, and 5 to 10

more Delta II medium launch vehicles . The under secretary also defended his new

space launch budget that would be doubled by the early 199os. Although military

missions would receive priority once the Shuttle resumed flying, eighteen of thirtysix previously manifested payloads for the Shuttle would be reprogrammed for

expendable launchers. After 1992, however, the Defense Department would use the

Shuttle only for SDI or research and development missions. In effect, the Air Force

would abandon the standardized Shuttle, the "airliner to space," for the diversification represented by expendable boosters. At the same time, no one wanted to resort

to business as usual and to the practice of linking specific satellites to particular

launch vehicles, which required months of prelaunch preparation . Emphasis now

would be on developing an "assured launch strategy" highlighted by lower costs and

greater launch responsiveness ."

While space launchers remained grounded and public questioning ofthe future

direction of the space program continued into 1987, the White House initiated a

new review ofnational space policy. The Air Force also undertook a comprehensive

reassessment of its role in space. In the spring of 1987 the Secretary of the Air Force

produced an important "White Paper" on Air Force space policy and space leadership. The paper took as its point of departure the 1983 policy letter from then Chief

of Staff General Gabriel that claimed Air Force responsibility for most of military

space. This claim, according to the White Paper, had not been fulfilled, and the

defense community perceived that the Air Force only grudgingly supported space

activities. As a result, the nation faced a void in space leadership at a time ofgrowing Soviet space presence, and the Air Force had failed to "exhibit a sense of institutional purpose or responsibility toward space:" In short, space had been relegated to

fourth priority in the service behind the strategic, tactical, and airlift missions. 8

Because outsiders perceived a lack of support for space within the Air Force, they

raised challenges to the Air Force's role as executive agent for military space. The

Office of the Secretary of Defense, for example, retained a dominant voice in the

acquisition area through the DDR&E, while U.S . Space Command and the Strategic

Defense Initiative Organization advocated space survivability and surveillance

229
as the lead service for space? They declared that the answer should be 

yesbecause

of the service's space expertise and especially the potential of Air Force Space

Command for operational leadership. At the same time, however, the Air Force had

neither a mission statement for space nor a current space operations doctrine, and

its operational space command could not play a strong advocacy role throughout

the corporate Air Force and Defense Department because its leader was only a twostar commander."

The White Paper suggested specific actions the Air Force should take to lead the

military space community. It should develop a new policy statement that reasserted

the Air Force claim as "lead" service for space and should work to revise Defense

Department Directive 516o .z on service space responsibilities . Leadership did not

mean an "exclusive" Air Force space role, the paper said . Rather, the service should

establish a formal structure to ensure that it met the needs of the other services .

Within the Air Force, a corporate commitment could be developed by means of

expanding space infrastructure and supporting the SDI and "military-man-in-space"

missions. Finally, the Air Force should upgrade the commander ofAir Force Space

Command to three-star rank and work to increase the interaction among the

operational command, Air Force Systems Command, and the Air Staff. The Air

Force secretary's White Paper reached a wide audience and provided important

impetus to the establishment the following year of the important Blue Ribbon

Panel on Space Roles and Missions. Meanwhile, a few months before the White

Paper appeared, space operations advocates received a new champion in the person of General John L. Piotrowski, appointed to head U.S . Space Command on

6 February 1987 .'o

General Piotrowski Champions Operational Space

The arrival ofGeneral Piotrowski signaled the advent ofthree years of strong

leadership in a variety of operational space areas . His initiatives and actions had

significant impact on the thinking and development of Air Force space activities . As

commander-in-chief of the unified command, Piotrowski sought to bring an operational focus to the space mission, much of which was accomplished by involving Air

Force Space Command, the unified command's largest component. He represented

as well a symbolic shift in leadership of the unified command. While his predecessor, General Herres, focused primarily on developing an effective organizational

framework, General Piotrowski made it his mission to stress the needs of the

warfighter and the importance ofnormalizing military space operations. As he

explained, it was absolutely essential that the unified and specified commanders-inchief, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Defense Department leaders develop an "operational mindset for the use of space." This would reflect the "natural process of

230
General Piotrowski used as a springboard the new Defense Department Space

Policy that Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger signed on 4 February 1987 . The

new policy affirmed that the Shuttle would no longer be designated the primary

launch vehicle for military missions. The nation must develop an assured space

mission capability through balanced launch assets and more survivable systems .

Moreover, the military should develop an operational antisatellite weapon system,

take advantage of civil and commercial space assets, and promote advanced launch

technology. Above all, the Defense Department must "provide operational capabilities to ensure the US can meet national security objectives" by focusing on the

mission areas of space control, space support, force enhancement, and force

application. The Joint Chiefs of Staff called on the new commander of U.S. Space

Command to assess current programs and required actions. Although Piotrowski

used his position to advocate a variety of improvements in space infrastructure, his

attention centered on space launch and future operational payload requirements

that would support theater and tactical commanders."

General Piotrowski believed that the Air Force needed to make radical changes

in two areas ofspace launch-payload manifest procedures and launch responsiveness-in order to make operational priorities the driving force . U.S . Space Command and Air Force Space Command, for example, played only a minor role in

launch manifest arrangements. From the 1970s the Defense Department Space

Shuttle User Committee had essentially "rubber stamped" payload manifest schedules determined by Air Force Systems Command's Space Division . In September

1985, the redesignated Defense Department Space Launch User Committee began

addressing expendable-booster manifest requirements, but the Challenger accident

interrupted its work. When NASA and Space Division reviewed the Shuttle recovery

schedule in the fall of 1986, they did not contact the services or the unified and

specified commands for their inputs . Piotrowski considered this situation a prime

example of the "technology push" rather than the "requirements pull," whereby

space assets and needs traditionally reflected the concerns of the technologists

rather than the warfighters. As he explained,

I believe it is vitally important for the operational requirement to be

present in the decision-making process . . . . [O]ur role should be to act as

an operational consultant to ensure the risk-vs-requirement discussion

is not based solely on technical and programmatic concerns . I recommend for future launches of DoD systems, by either NASA or Systems

Command, that US Space Command perform that consultant roles'

Specifically, he proposed that U.S . Space Command be accorded formal voting

membership on the user committee, now termed the Space Launch Advisory

Group. His proposal, however, became part of the thorny issue of "normalizing"

23 1
Maurice C. "Tim" Padden, commander of Air Force Space Command, that the Air

Force component should represent U.S . Space Command interests at user meetings .

In any event, now operators would be more directly involved.

14

General Piotrowski also spearheaded the effort to achieve a more responsive

space launch capability. The problem with manifesting space payloads led him to

reassess the issue of responsiveness in the context of deterrence and warfighting.

Current policy, he argued, only guaranteed a return to a peacetime capability and a

gradual recovery from the launch standdown . This would mean a relatively rigid

"launch on schedule" policy that often required as much as six months of preparation by contractor personnel before each launch. Such practices did not provide the

responsive space infrastructure needed for warfighting . Moreover, "deliberate" onorbit checkout procedures by Air Force Systems Command's Space Division meant

that space systems remained under control of the research and development

community too long before transfer to operational users . Piotrowski believed that

the best way to ensure a launch system responsive to the warfighter would be a

complete transfer of the launch mission from Space Division to Air Force Space

Command. He formally proposed the transfer in a letter to Chief of Staff General

Larry D. Welch on 28 September 1987 . Launch transfer, he argued, would represent

a natural evolution as Air Force Space Command matured in its operational role

and would enable the commander-in-chief of U.S . Space Command to use his

component directly for launch-related activity in wartime . He also advocated an Air

Force "blue suit" launch operation managed by the operational commands. He

proposed that Air Force Space Command immediately assume operational responsibility for either the test ranges or upcoming Delta II/GPS launches."

General Piotrowski and his fellow space operators believed that developments in

the wake of the Challenger tragedy supported their argument. For one, a special

Defense Department commission on defense management practices led by former

Deputy Defense Secretary David Packard called for acquisition commands to concentrate on research, development and acquisition by divesting themselves of

"operational" responsibilities . This led to the transfer in 1987 of the Air Force

Satellite Control Network, including the remote tracking stations, from Air Force

Systems Command to Air Force Space Command. Piotrowski hoped that this transfer would provide sufficient incentive for reconsideration of the launch issue . At

the same time, recent Defense Department policy relegating the Shuttle to second

priority behind expendable boosters effectively sealed the fate ofAir Force Space

Command's expectation to control military space launch through its Shuttle

responsibilities . By February 1987 the Defense Department had decided to cancel

funding and development ofthe Shuttle Operations and Planning Complex (SOPC)

at Falcon Air Force Station and to mothball the Shuttle launch complex at

232
spaceflight efforts for the foreseeable future."

Most affected was the Military-Man-in-Space project supported by Under

Secretary Aldridge . When it began in 1985 this program embraced a study of

potential tests aboard the Shuttle and military uses of on-orbit satellites . After

President Reagan announced support for NASA's Space Station Freedom in January

1984, the Air Force also examined the possibility of participating in certain space

station experiments . The problem, however, remained the Air Force's traditional

inability to specify requirements that could be achieved only by military personnel

aboard a space station. As a result, the Defense Department continued to question

Air Force involvement in manned spaceflight, while political support in the late

198os threatened to eliminate the space station altogether. Nevertheless, the Air

Force persisted with the low-priority Military-Man-in-Space project, directed

largely from Air Force Space Command, which had established an office in 1987 to

provide "centralized focus for all Air Force military manned activities in space:' Air

Force officials hoped that reorienting the program's objective from earth observation to more technically demanding uses of military astronauts involving analysis

and processing of data would prove more worthy of funding support . With the

decline of military interest in the Shuttle and the space station's future in doubt,

however, planners developing experiments for Shuttle flights in the early 199os had

no certainty they would be flown."

With the return to expendable launchers and no provisions for turning over

to Air Force Space Command the new Titan IV and Delta 11 boosters, the Defense

Department's shift to expendable launch systems revitalized Air Force Systems

Command's central role in launch operations and reinforced the status quo.

Piotrowski's initial effort with the space launch issue proved unsuccessful . In

denying his request in December of 1987, Air Force headquarters argued that the

disruption involved in such a transition would adversely affect the launch recovery

process . At the same time, even an Air Force Space Command study had raised

questions about the lack of expertise within the command to handle a rapid rather

than evolutionary transition . Further progress would have to await the renewed

momentum in late 1988 created by the Blue Ribbon Panel on Space."

General Piotrowski's initiatives on space manifesting and space launch should

be considered as part of the U.S . Space Command and Defense Advanced Research

Projects Agency (DARPA)-led "space in transition" movement that involved all

elements of the space community in the late 198os. From Piotrowski's perspective,

the Air Force had to transition its force posture from one of remoteness to the concerns ofthe commanders-in-chief to one that ensured integration with warfighters'

requirements . It should do this by emphasizing the interrelationship among survivable space systems and quick-reaction launch capabilities . These issues surfaced

233
declared that they had found weather, intelligence, and communications satellite

information increasingly necessary for their operations, but they bemoaned their

inability to control these assets . The unified space command chief's survey also

revealed that without having access to weather and communications from satellites

in a crisis situation, the commanders-in-chief did not conduct training to use this

information. Piotrowski focused on the satellites themselves, particularly the trend

toward multimission, multiuser satellites . They had proven cost-effective and

capable of satisfying a broad spectrum of requirements, but had they met user

needs? Piotrowski and his counterparts thought not ."

Piotrowski's "responsive" proposal called for developing many small, low-cost,

single-mission satellites that could be launched on short notice and receive early onorbit checkout . As such, they would be readily available for theater commanders.

DARPA, which did not favor the practice of hardening satellites and producing more

complex spacecraft, had long advocated cheaper, lighter satellites (LIGHTSATs) and

a survivable launch capability through its Advanced Satellite Technology Program.

In the early 198os, however, an assessment by the Office of the Secretary of Defense

recommended retaining high-altitude deployment of multi-mission satellites . Over

the course of the decade theater commanders, the Strategic Air Command, and the

Strategic Defense Initiative Organization increasingly looked to so-called cheap

satellites (CHEAPSATs) as the best means of satisfying theater weather, communications, reconnaissance, and intelligence requirements during a crisis . The Air Force

became most interested in the possibility of lightweight communications satellites

to complement existing networks in a "communications by the yard" approach to

fulfill theater needs not met by current systems . Piotrowski and others saw small

satellites as a key means to transition from the existing peacetime situation to a

more responsive warfighting posture and, thus, to realize the objective of assured

access to space. Moreover, a quick-reaction "on-call" launch response would meet

operational needs and help institutionalize space inside and outside the Air Force.

Such a capability would involve simpler, smaller, short-life payloads launched

aboard a standardized bus by quick-reaction launchers from multiple launch sites

across the country. Short-term tactical satellites from a mixed-fleet arsenal could

meet important surge requirements ofwartime commanders. 60

The Blue Ribbon Panel Provides a Space Agenda

Like General Piotrowski's other space launch concerns, discussion of responsive

light satellites became overshadowed in 1988 by deliberations of the Blue Ribbon

Panel on Space Roles and Missions, which proved to have the most far-reaching

influence of the many space panels and studies over the years. In the spring of 1988

Air Force Chiefof Staff General Welch formed a Blue Ribbon Panel consisting of

234
that included Lieutenant General Donald J . Kutyna, commander of Air Force Space

Command, and vice commanders from the other Air Force major commands. The

main work would be done by the Panel Study Group, headed by Major General

Robert Todd, vice commander of Air University. Echoing the 1987 White Paper on

space, the chief ofstaff justified another study on space in terms of major changes in

the space landscape that resulted from new policy statements by the Defense

Department and the White House, technical advances, and the potential of SDI, as

well as friction and funding problems with the other services . He worried above all

about the ambivalence toward space in the Air Force. While the service had played a

leading space role for thirty years and continued to garner 50 percent of the national

space budget and 75 percent of the Defense Department's space funding, it remained uncertain about its future space role. The commitment ofAir Force leaders

to the institutionalization of space, he asserted, was not shared throughout the service . This resulted from misunderstanding about the potential of space systems, a

multiuser approach to systems that placed space at a disadvantage in the budget

process, and the historically closed nature of the space community."

General Welch charged the panel to examine the role of space for the warfighter,

responsiveness of space systems, and organizational relationships . After deliberatin,

over the summer, the panel issued a report in August 1988 that dealt with three

broad areas . First, Air Force space policy should be revised to reflect realistic capabilities and pretensions . This meant an Air Force role as principal, but not exclusive,

agent for military space activities and a major effort to achieve the capability of

performing warfighting missions in and from space. Secondly, the panel assessed the

Air Force role in space in terms of the four mission functions described in the 1983

Air Force Space Plan. For these, the panel recommended a reasoned approach

involving acquisition, operation, and support of military space systems . Finally, the

panel investigated the organizational, institutional, and personnel issues associated

with the role of space in the Air Force. The panel asserted that Air Force Space

Command must continue its central role as advocate, operator, and single manager

for space support, while U.S . Space Command should normalize its relationship

with its Air Force component by returning to it operational control of peacetime

space assets . The institutional challenge had occurred because many viewed space

systems as vulnerable during conflict, without an assured mission capability of

providing ready space system replacements . Generally, there continued to be a lack

of broad institutional involvement in the space program, an absence of space expertise in the various commands, and overall minimal appreciation of the value of

space throughout the Air Force. The panel concluded its evaluation by specifically

recommending that doctrinal manuals be revised to include space in combat

operations, and that space expertise be spread throughout the service . 12

235
twenty-nine specific action recommendations. The implementation plan declared in

ringing words that "the Air Force is and will be responsible for the global employment of military power above the earth's surface ." The plan expected to lay the

groundwork for establishing a decisive space role in combat operations. The Air

Force must foster among itself and the other services a "broader institutional view

ofhow military power is applied above the surface of the earth." It charged Air

Force Space Command with developing a "Space Roadmap" for updating the Air

Force Space Plan and integrating all existing Air Force space operations. The Space

Roadmap, projecting space into the 21st century, would link space systems to

warfighting requirements, global strategy, and the four mission areas. The implementation plan asserted that "spacepower" would assume an importance equal to

airpower in future combat and that the Air Force must ready itself for the "evolution of spacepower from combat support to the full spectrum of military capabilities ." Above all, the road-map had to lead to a "coherent Air Force role in space. " 61

The Blue Ribbon Panel report and the Air Staff's implementation plan provided

necessary momentum on a number ofimportant space issues . They helped the Air

Force space community, primarily Air Force Space Command, pull the rest of the

Air Force along the path to an improved and clearer understanding of, and vision

for, the space mission for the Air Force. Although Air Force Space Command's

revision of the Space Plan continued to face opposition at Air Force headquarters,

prospects for approval had brightened in light of the various ongoing studies . These

included the Space Roadmap, an Air Force Investment Strategy for Space directed

by the Assistant Air Force Secretary for Space, and an Assured Mission Support

Space Architecture Study led by U.S . Space Command. In addition, doctrinal

statements that had long been controversial faced good prospects for approval given

the Panel's recommendation that the Air Force promote the "direct integration of

space operations with the Air Force's more traditional roles ." Moreover, the Panel's

call for "normalization" ofspace led to a change within the Air Force board structure, whereby Air Force Space Command received a "home board" for space in

order to effectively advocate space systems for several users."

The Blue Ribbon Panel's findings also led to important changes in the relationship between U.S . Space Command and Air Force Space Command. The Panel

called on the unified command to establish a more effective relationship with its

component commands, especially Air Force Space Command, by relinquishing

peacetime operational control of the space surveillance and missile warning functions . U.S . Space Command personnel had been exercising operational control over

these Air Force assets since the separation of the two commands on 1 October 1986.

Air Force Space Command leaders argued that as a component command it should

236
port of NORAD and U.S . Space Command. Under pressure from Air Force headquarters, General Piotrowski's command, by November 1988, had agreed to transfer

to Air Force Space Command the Space Surveillance Center functions through the

formation of a new organization, the Air Force Space Surveillance Element. The

unified command, however, proved less forthcoming in transferring to its Air Force

component command the three other Cheyenne Mountain Complex operations

centers: the Missile Warning Center, the Space Defense Operations Center, and the

Intelligence Operations Center. Air Force Space Command expected to gain

responsibility for these remaining centers in the early 19gos, when the commander

of Air Force Space Command once again would be dual-hatted as commander-inchief of U.S . Space Command."

Panel recommendations also supported the major effort to develop effective new

launch technology through the Advanced Launch System (ALS) program. By the

end of 1989 the ALS had evolved from a technological initiative to produce a heavy

launch vehicle for the Strategic Defense Initiative and future space station to a

multivehicle technology-oriented project . Not all participants approved of the restructured program's objectives, which eliminated production of the vehicle itself.

Space architecture studies during 1984 and 1985 based on Strategic Defense

Initiative requirements had identified the need for a launch vehicle capable of

placing at least 200,000 pounds into low-earth orbit. By 1987 the Strategic Defense

Initiative Organization called for a capability of nearly 400,000 pounds per year

into low-earth, polar orbit by 1993, with an expected increase to 5 million pounds

per year by the end of the 199os. Air Force officials, including Under Secretary

Aldridge expected ALS also to meet future Air Force requirements for large multiuser satellites that could not be handled by the Shuttle or Titan IV, although General

Piotrowski and Air Force Space Command planners feared that ALS furthered

peacetime rather than wartime objectives by undermining their initiatives to

produce tactical satellites of less size, weight, and complexity. Meanwhile, NASA had

joined the competition by proposing an unmanned derivative ofthe Shuttle, termed

Shuttle-C (Cargo) . By the late 198os, however, the climate of fiscal austerity and

strong opposition to the prospect of space-based missile defense systems raised

doubts about proceeding with an ALS program aimed only at producing a large

new booster to support the Strategic Defense Initiative .66

Air Force Space Command led the effort to restructure the program to support

development of a new "family of vehicles" that by the late 19gos could provide

responsive, reliable, low-cost access to space for a variety of payloads . But with

funding in short supply, might the launch dilemma be better addressed with a

technology-only program directed toward improving the existing fleet of expendable boosters? This recommendation emerged from a 1989 Defense Science Board

237
gy pg

expendable launch vehicles would meet operational requirements for the foreseeable future. Air Force Space Command wanted ALS, now termed the Advanced

Launch Development Program (ALDP), to address requirements for an operational

launch system rather than merely focus on upgrading existing launch vehicles . The

larger issue had become the classic development dilemma of whether to continue

investing in improvements to systems based largely on 3o-year-old technology or,

instead, to support promising but unproven technology that might result in a family

of launch vehicles that Air Force Space Command argued could provide "responsive, reliable, flexible, low cost access to space for the broad range of expected

payload sizes, orbits and launch rates . . . essential to satisfy . . . requirements in the late

199os and beyond .

"6' By the end of the i98os, the uncertainty of space launch for the

future compelled the vice president's National Space Council to schedule a major

assessment of the issue in 19go or 1991 .61

Air Force Space Command Gains the Space Launch Mission

If the Blue Ribbon Panel's findings did not lead to clarification of the Advanced

Launch Syst":m program, they nevertheless helped produce major changes in the

Air Force space launch mission . By the time the Blue Ribbon Panel's Implementation Plan appeared on 3 February 1989, the country had just completed its "year of

recovery" for "assured access to space:" The Titan 34D had returned to service with

launches from both coasts ; the first of the refurbished Titan II's for Defense Meteorological Satellite Program flights began operations in September; and the new

Titan IV would enter the inventory with projections of three to five flights per year.

Additionally, the new Delta II medium launch vehicle would make its first flight

with Global Positioning System satellites in early 1989, and the Air Force had issued

a contract for a second medium launch vehicle, a stretched version of the AtlasCentaur for Defense Satellite Communications System launches." The Blue Ribbon

Panel had applauded the recovery of the expendable launch vehicle industry and

mission . It also created momentum for transfer of the space launch mission from

Air Force Systems Command to Air Force Space Command, and led to a revised Air

Force Space Policy in December 1988 that declared that the Air Force would

"consolidate space system requirements, advocacy, and operations, exclusive of

developmental and, for the near term, launch systems, in Air Force Space Command." Although the policy stopped short of reassigning the launch function, it

clearly reflected a central objective of the Blue Ribbon Panel, namely to institutionalize the role of Air Force Space Command as the focal point for operational space

activity. Increasing awareness ofAir Force Space Command's responsibilities and

the importance of space in the Air Force set the stage for action on the launch

transfer issue ."

238
q

General Donald J. Kutyna, the new commander ofAir Force Space Command. In

February 1988, General Kutyna provided Air Force Chief of Staff General Welch a

lengthy rationale for transferring launch responsibility that became the command's

basic position in the months ahead. Space boosters, he argued, while complex and

costly vehicles, represented operational rather than developmental systems, yet Air

Force Systems Command's research and development personnel performed

operational tasks involving range and launch pad operation, supervision of contractor personnel, and execution of launch countdown checklists . These could, and

should, be handled by "operators" who could boast of considerable experience with

current boosters over the years. General Kutyna favored a "clean stroke" transfer

similar to that involving the Satellite Control Network rather than a piecemeal

change. At the same time, Kutyna and his staff had always understood that such a

transfer would require resolution of difficult budget, manpower, and contractor

issues, as well as interface challenges with NASA and the classified programs, along

with responsibilities for upper-stage vehicles ."

General Welch, however, reaffirmed his earlier opposition, and the launch transfer issue joined a number of other concerns that would have to await Blue Ribbon

Panel deliberations. In the new climate for change following publication of the

implementation plan, General Welch directed the Air Staff in late May 1989 to

review responsibilities ofAir Force Space Command and Air Force Systems Command in order to recommend "a more normal relationship between developers and

operators ." Subsequently, Air Force headquarters directed both commands to

prepare and discuss with each other their positions on space launch. By the end of

the year, the two sides continued to differ fundamentally on the nature and control

of space systems . Air Force Systems Command proposed a lengthy, phased turnover

of individual launch vehicles, but only after sufficient improvements had been made

to make them "operational :" Space Command, by contrast, favored immediate

transfer of space launch, represented at this time by the Space and Missile Test

Organization, as well as all residual satellite control operations. In his presentation

to General Welch in March 199o, General Kutyna declared that the transfer would

enhance operational effectiveness in four ways. Making a single command responsible for the entire space support function would ensure unity of command, render

systems more responsive to the warfighter, improve methods for the formulation of

operational requirements, and assist the acquisition community by freeing it from

performing operational functions . The Air Force Space Command chief also countered the objections of Air Force Systems Command representatives which centered

on potential disruption to classified reconnaissance programs and contractor arrangements, and especially on what they considered the specialized, nonoperational

nature of space systems ."

239
Transfer Steering Committee to examine various options for an effective transfer

with minimal disruption . The goal would be to produce a plan "to bring launch

operations into line with the normal division of roles and missions between operational commands and the acquisition command." Included among the committee

members were Lieutenant General Ronald W Yates and Major General Thomas S.

Moorman, Jr ., who would soon assume command ofAir Force Systems Command

and Air Force Space Command, respectively. In the spring of t9go the committee

examined sixteen options that in one way or another compared Air Force Space

Command's position, which supported a direct transfer leaving launch systems to

become more "operational" in the future, and Air Force Systems Command's argument, which favored an incremental transfer after first improving the launch

systems to make them "operational ." In mid-May General Welch agreed to the

committee's compromise recommendation, which clearly favored the operational

command. On i October t9go, Air Force Systems Command would transfer to Air

Force Space Command its launch-related centers, ranges, bases, and the Delta II

and Atlas E missions. The remaining Atlas II, Titan II, and Titan IV missions would

be turned over later on a phased schedule. Approving the transfer on 12 June,

Secretary of the Air Force Donald B. Rice declared that the "change in assignment of

roles and missions further normalizes space operations and pursues our corporate

commitment to integrate space power throughout the full spectrum ofAir Force

operational capabilities.""

It was left to General Moorman, in ceremonies on t October at Patrick Air Force

Base, Florida, marking the transfer, to best describe the "landmark event."

240

I believe this transfer is part of the natural evolution of the Air Force

space program . It is a testimony to how our thinking about space

operations has matured. . . . [O]ver the past several years our leadership

has been examining the role of the Air Force in space as well as that of

space in the Air Force . The result of this review is an Air Force policy

which has two basic tenets-that the future of the Air Force is inextricablytied to space, and that spacepower will be as decisive in future

conflicts as airpower is today. The policy also states that we will make a

solid corporate commitment to integrate and normalize space throughout the Air Force . . . . [T]his transfer of launch responsibility is the

tangible result of the Air Force's desire to fulfill these policy objectives .

The decision to transfer the launch mission was based on the beliefs that

placing satellites into orbit has matured to a point where it should be

considered an operational task, and that Air Force Space Command had

sufficiently matured where it could assume the responsibility . . . . The

transfer . . . is intended to be virtually transparent to both the users and

operators . That transparency will help guarantee continued smooth
The transfer of space launch represented not only the 

most significant operational

milestone" in the command's brief history, but a major step on the road to an

operational, warfighting perspective for space."

The Decade in Retrospect

By the end of the i98os, the Air Force was well on its way toward achieving the institutionalization of space that enthusiasts had long envisioned. Space activity no

longer seemed primarily developmental in nature but, rather, an operational

element whose systems could fulfill Air Force missions in a manner comparable to

the service's traditional activities. Over the course of the decade the space launch

issue remained central to every aspect of the space program. Without assured access

to space there could be no space program In the atmosphere of self-examination

following the Challenger tragedy and the Titan booster failures, the Air Force at the

highest levels moved to reassess not only its investment in the Shuttle but its entire

commitment to space.

The Challenger's shock waves generated a variety of space studies that attempted

to understand the present and chart the future. Of these, the Blue Ribbon Panel far

and away provided a realistic sense of the potential of space through its policy

analysis, and its examination of the Air Force role in space and the role of space in

the Air Force. It called on the Air Force to undertake sober leadership, and it set the

stage for the Space Roadmap. The Blue Ribbon Panel's recommendations served as

the linchpin for the broad process of"normalizing" space within the Air Force that

gained momentum in the late i98os.

To be sure, much remained incomplete at decade's end. While the return to

expendable boosters enabled the service to continue launching communications,

weather, navigation, and early warning satellites, it would be 1992 before the threeyear Shuttle delay would be overcome. At the same time, roles-and-missions issues

continued to demand accommodation between the United States Space Command

and its component Air Force Space Command, as well as among the latter and other

Air Force and Defense Department organizations with space responsibilities . Likewise, the future of space launch also persisted unresolved. A return to the diversity

of reliable space boosters did not alleviate troublesome questions about the feasibility and necessity of developing a standardized launch vehicle for the new century.

Nevertheless, the end of the decade offered more hope than pessimism. Through

all the turmoil surrounding space launch in the movement away from the Shuttle,

the focus remained centered on operational requirements and the needs of the warfighter. In this regard, Air Force Space Command provided the focus as it moved to

consolidate operational responsibilities. Its victory in garnering the space launch

mission represented a final shift in the long struggle to move Air Force space from

241
infrastructure, and institutional commitment wholly oriented toward space operations could provide the conditions to achieve the claim in reality. At the close of the

decade, General Kutyna, commander of Air Force Space Command, best described

the promise and potential of the Air Force space challenge. He said the Blue Ribbon

Panel had determined that :

spacepower will assume an increasingly decisive role in future combat

operations, and the future of the Air Force is inextricably tied to space

We are at the forefront in the evolution of spacepower from combat

support to an actual warfighting capability. Spacepower is important

today, but it will be absolutely critical in the future for effective military

operations ."

General Kutyna's prediction would soon be put to the test in a major regional

conflict in Southwest Asia, Operation Desert Storm.
CHAPTER 7

Coming of Age:

Operation Desert Storm and Normalizing Military

Space Operations

0

n 2 August 199o, Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein shocked the world by

invading and rapidly overrunning the small, oil-rich country of Kuwait,

sending the Kuwaiti government into exile . The Iraqi action threatened

vital Western oil reserves in Kuwait and neighboring Saudi Arabia, which for many

years had served as the basis for American policy in the Arab world. American

President George Bush reacted promptly by convincing the United Nations to

condemn the invasion, implement economic sanctions, and demand an unconditional Iraqi pullout. At the same time, the world body authorized President Bush to

forge a multinational military alliance and force compliance if the Iraqis did not

withdraw by 15 January 1991 . On 7 August, under the operational name Desert

Shield, allied forces began a five-month-long buildup in the Persian Gulf region .

America now faced its first post-Cold War crisis .'

The Iraqi challenge found the United States already well on its way toward adjusting to new political and economic realities . The so-called New World Order that

emerged after the 1989 political revolutions in eastern Europe and the impending

demise of the Soviet Union, which finally occured in late 1991, precipitated a major

reassessment ofa military force structure designed to meet the threat of global

nuclear war. In the new "multi-polar" world, regional crises and conflicts seemed

more likely to test the United States . To prepare itself for new responsibilities as the

only remaining superpower, America's national security strategy now focused more

directly on revitalizing its domestic economy as a basis for strong international
action, represented the wave of the future. 2

The Gulf conflict also would demonstrate that national strategy could no longer

support large prepositioned forces in a "forward defense" role . Rather, leaders

envisioned restructured, smaller armed forces in the future, characterized by high

readiness, technological superiority, and extensive mobility. Such forces would be

capable of rapidly projecting power anywhere in the world without benefit of a

supporting infrastructure already in place. Moreover, the armed forces of the 199os

should be able to emerge victorious from two simultaneous regional conflicts . Air

Force Chief of Staff General Merrill McPeak termed the Air Force role in the new

force structure as one of providing "global reach and global power." A central

element in this Air Force vision would be the application of military space capabilities. Space forces would lead the way by providing global coverage, a nonthreatening

forward presence, and inherent flexibility that guaranteed real-time and near-realtime support across the spectrum ofmilitary conflict .'

The Gulf War, fought under the operational name Desert Storm, represented the

first major trial by fire for space forces, whereby military space systems could fulfill

their promise as crucial "force multipliers."' By all accounts, space forces provided

the vital edge in ensuring the victory of the U.N. Coalition . Their contribution

proved more impressive because of the difficulties that had to be overcome. Space

systems, up to this point, had focused primarily on strategic rather than tactical

requirements . Some embryonic planning and testing of tactical uses of space

capabilities had emerged by the late 198os; however, ensuring nuclear warning and

monitoring arms control agreements had been more important than supporting

tactical operations. As a result, Coalition planners had to make important adjustments in both the satellite and ground segments of their space forces in order to

meet tactical contingencies . Although remarkably successful, a number of persistent

deficiencies could only be minimized, never overcome. In their many postwar

assessments of space system performance, military authorities attempted to use the

lessons learned from the desert conflict to ensure that space systems would better

support the tactical warfighter in the future. The Air Force saw in its GulfWar

experience a springboard for charting the future of the nation's military space

program and assuring its own leadership role in space for the century ahead.'

To be sure, military space systems had provided important operational wartime

support long before the GulfWar. 6 As early as the Vietnam conflict, weather and

communications satellites furnished useful data and imagery to commanders in

Southeast Asia and linked them with Washington, D.C. More recently, satellite

communications had proven important in the British Falkland Islands campaign

and in Urgent Fury, the Grenada invasion of 1983. In 1986, during Operation

Eldorado Canyon, space systems provided a vital communications link and sup244
ships and helicopters during mine sweeping operations in the Persian Gulf. During

Operation Just Cause in Panama in 1989, DSCS satellites provided long-haul

communications links and DMSP supplied important weather data.'

These operations, however, involved only portions of the military space community for a relatively brief period of time, and the contribution ofspace systems was

not widely understood or appreciated . Desert Storm, by contrast, involved the full

arsenal of military space systems . Nearly sixty military and civilian satellites influenced the course of the war and helped save lives . Communications satellites established inter- and intea-theater links to support command and control requirements

for an army of nearly 500,000 troops . Weather satellites enabled mission planners to

keep abreast of constantly changing atmospheric conditions, while early warning

spacecraft supplied crucial data on enemy missile launches. Navigation satellites

furnished precise positional information to all elements of the armed forces. Then,

too, commercial satellites not only assisted in filling coverage and system gaps, but

broadcast the war over television to a worldwide audience . Desert Storm was,

indeed, the first large-scale integration ofspace systems in support of warfighting . 1

Operation Desert Shield-Preparation

At the outset of Desert Shield in early August 1990, communications satellites

served only an American administrative unit in Bahrain and two training groups

in Saudi Arabia, while the priorities lay elsewhere for weather, navigation, early

warning, and remote sensing satellites. Much time and effort would be required

to reconfigure satellite systems and overcome shortfalls before the Coalition's

enormous space potential could be decisively marshaled. As for Iraq, it possessed no

space assets of its own and had to rely on the international Intelsat and Inmarsat

networks as well as the two Arabsat regional telecommunications satellites . During

Desert Shield, the Iraqi leadership made little or no effort to integrate space into

their military planning. Coalition forces, on the other hand, took advantage of a

five-month "grace period" before the onset of Desert Storm to orient their space

systems for maximum support to the warfighter. They faced a formidable challenge

in all areas of space support .

Communications-Defense Satellite Communications System (DSCS). Analysts of the

Gulf conflict found it difficult not to overplay the role of communications satellites

(COMSATs) because of their vital importance to the success of every aspect of Desert

Shield and Desert Storm operations. Although Saudi Arabia possessed a modern

communications system, it did not service key areas of the potential battlefield or

possess the circuit capacity needed to support the requirements ofa half-million

personnel . During Desert Shield preparations the Coalition put into place ten

245
the traffic . Communications satellites also furnished tactical links within the theater

and served as relays for terrestrial radio systems suffering from line-of-sight limitations . They provided total communications to air, sea, and ground forces, and

brought the war to television screens around the world.'

Establishing effective communications during Desert Shield presented a major

challenge . Satellites needed to be repositioned or activated from standby status . To

meet the high demand for communication circuits, militaryleaders reallocated

circuits from other users to U.S . Central Command, leased civilian COMSAT circuits,

and deployed thousands of terminals to the operational area. Coalition forces

received communications support from the Defense Satellite Communications

System, Fleet Satellite Communications (FLTSATCOM), NATO III, and Skynet

systems, as well as commercial satellites . The variety of systems required considerable coordination with individual agencies and extensive integration before the

communications system could function smoothly and efficiently."

Of the various communications satellite systems involved in the Gulf operations,

Air Force attention centered on the super high frequency (SHF) Defense Satellite

Communication System, which had long met the bulk of global, long-haul communication requirements for all branches of the armed forces . At the outset ofDesert

Shield, the DSCS constellation appeared in good shape. In ig8g the launch of DSCS II

and DSCS III satellites ended the marginal status ofthe constellation in the wake of

the Challengerdisaster . In August iggo the DSCS network consisted of two DSCS II

and three DSCS III operational satellites, together with one DSCS III reserve and two

DSCS II limited-use spacecraft ."

Nevertheless, from the outset of Desert Shield Lieutenant General Thomas S.

Moorman, Jr., commander ofAir Force Space Command, expressed concern that

military satellite communication links between the United States and the Middle

East, and especially DSCS circuit capacity, would prove insufficient . Although his

command was responsible for the space segment, overall DSCS management remained in the hands of the Defense Communications Agency (DCA). On 15 August

General Moorman requested from the DCA the status ofnetwork allocations in

support of U.S . Central Command. In a reply two days later, the agency did not

seem worried, because the dedicated circuits had received little use. Circuits on two

DSCS satellites had been earmarked to support Gulf operations. On an older DSCS II

satellite positioned over the Indian Ocean (DSCS IO-II), 85 percent of channel 3 had

been reserved for U.S . Central Command, but only 30 percent was in use. As for the

DSCS III Eastern Atlantic spacecraft (DSCS EA-III), DCA, as system manager, had

allocated ioo percent of channel 2, 85 percent of channel 4, and ioo percent of

channel 3 . Yet, usage figures for the three channels amounted to io percent, 20

percent, and o percent, respectively."

246
allotted capacity under pressure from the growing buildup of forces in the region .

Moreover, Air Force Space Command's staff became concerned with the vulnerability ofDSCS satellites and other Coalition spacecraft to Iraqi jamming of satellite

transponders, either by using the fire control radar for SA-6 surface-to-air missile

batteries or by overrunning the U.S . Diplomatic Telecommunications Terminal at

the American embassy in Kuwait City. In the latter event, Coalition forces might

have to rely on naval ultra-high-frequency communications provided by the Navy's

FLTSATCOM and additional commercial satellite support . Unfortunately,

FLTSATCOM also was susceptible to jamming, and its large terminals made its

bandwith unsuitable for tactical requirements ."

By mid-September, the problem of circuit loading could no longer be overlooked. Although use of the Eastern Atlantic spacecraft had reached only 6o percent

of capacity, the figure for the Indian Ocean satellite's channel 3 had skyrocketed to

98.4 percent . The staffs of Air Force Space Command, DCA, the Joint Chiefs of Staff,

U.S . Space Command, and U.S . Central Command considered several possible

solutions, including moving users to different channels on the Indian Ocean satellite

or entirely to the Atlantic Ocean satellite . Doing so, however, would temporarily

sever connections with deployed forces in the theater, and U.S . Central Command

declined to take this risk. Instead, DCA authorized the unprecedented step of realigning DSCSEA-IIfs high-gain multibeam antennas to enhance its Middle East

communications traffic capacity. Officials also continued to emphasize "bandwidth

discipline" to users to prevent misuse ofthe strict channel allocations . But what if

the current DSCS satellites experienced partial or complete system failure? The DSCS

II satellite, after all, had been operating well beyond its projected "lifespan .""

Another potential solution to bolster Gulf support involved repositioning one of

the satellites in orbit or launching a new DSCS satellite . This became a subject of serious debate in the fall, especially after U.S . Central Command realized that available

funding for launch vehicles could not support a "launch on demand" requirement

for additional DSCS satellites . Even with additional funding, however, it immediately

became clear that a new DSCS launch could not take place before the spring of 1991 .

On 26 September Air Force Space Command initially recommended the activation

of an orbiting NATO III Flight D spare satellite to relieve the two DSCS satellites of

non-Desert Shield communications, but by the end of October growing political

opposition to the use of a NATO asset for non-European operations ended consideration of this alternative ."

Meanwhile, Air Force Systems Command's Space Systems Division proposed a

"spare-DSCS alternative," which involved using an old spare DSCS II, Flight D-14,

and newly developed portable terminals to furnish SHF communications for

Coalition war orders . The technical specialists also believed that Flight D-14 could

247
48 tactical terminals, and by late September, with 200,ooo additional troops on their

way, the number of sets had increased to 58 . The spare-DSCS option gained momentum, and by mid-November DCA requested that U.S . Space Command obtain

permission from the Joint Chiefs of Staff to reposition Flight D-14, a "West Pacific

Narrow Coverage Reserve" satellite, from its parking slot at 174 degrees east to 65

degrees east, over the Indian Ocean. On 17 November Air Force Space Command's

3rd Satellite Control Squadron initiated the move, and, at a drift rate of 4 degrees

per day, Flight D-14 arrived at its new location on 19 December. After three days of

intense testing, the second "Indian Ocean" DSCS satellite, began providing direct

support to Desert Shield users on 22 December.

'6

By this time, Coalition authorities had arranged to use the British Skynet 4B satellite positioned at 53 degrees for additional SHF links, along with several categories of

UHF satellites . These included two small experimental MACSATs (Multiple Access

Communications Satellites) which had been launched by Scout boosters just prior

to the Iraqi invasion . The minisatellites used "store-and-retrieve" procedures to

relay logistics information between the United States and Saudi Arabia . U.S . forces

also relied on geostationary FLTSATCOM spacecraft, largely for nontactical naval

communication requirements, and commercial satellites . At the time of Desert

Shield, the Hughes Corporation operated an orbiting network of five leased

satellites (Leasats), although one had failed . For Gulf contingency support, Hughes

moved one Leasat to provide better coverage of Iraq . At the same time, DCA contracted for the launch on 9 January 1991 of another commercial satellite, "Syncom"

IV-51990-002B . Even if the commercial circuits were to prove unnecessary, Air

Force Space Command felt more secure realizing that the commercial satellites

could provide "redundancy" should the military systems fail ." The satellite communications network established during Desert Shield reflected considerable system

flexibility and cooperation among the military, civil, and commercial space sectors .

Navigation-Navstar Global Positioning System (GPS) The Global Positioning

System became the best known space system during the war. It proved capable of

answering the age-old questions of "where am I" and "where am I going" in the

featureless desert . Ironically, the military had been slow to accept GPS, partly because of reluctance to forego existing navigation systems . As for the Air Force, it

seemed at times unable to dedicate itself to a multi-service system . As a result, a

lower funding priority for GPS translated into delays, made worse by the Challenger

Space Shuttle disaster. Not until 1989 did the Air Force launch the first five Block II

operational satellites aboard the new Delta II booster to join the test satellites that

had been supporting user equipment evaluations at Yuma, Arizona, since the late

1970s. Planners did not expect the full configuration of 21 operational and three

248
an interim deadline ofApril 1991 for 24-hour, global two-dimensional coverage,

authorities decided in early 199o both to begin repositioning the satellites from their

test locations to their operational positions and to launch additional GPS satellites."

Desert Shield sparked urgent efforts to provide navigation coverage to forces in

the field . In early August, GPS rephasing already was well underway. By the 22nd of

the month, when U.S . Space Command notified U.S . Central Command that GPS II8 had been activated just twelve days after launch, the fourteen-satellite constellation consisted of six prototype and eight Block II operational satellites . With the

buildup continuing, the previously scheduled launches of GPS II-9 and II-1o on

2 October and 26 November, respectively, increased the configuration to sixteen

satellites on the eve of Desert Storm. Planners also decided to alter the orbit of

GPS II-9 to optimize its coverage over Baghdad, especially at night. With the rephasing process completed by year's end, program managers expected the constellation to provide 24-hour two-dimensional and 19-hour three-dimensional coverage

ofGulfoperations."

The optimistic plan threatened to go awry in December, however, when prototype satellite #6 failed . First launched in 198o with a projected lifespan of only five

years, the test satellite had finally succumbed to old age. Although the launch of GPS

I1-n scheduled for 30 January 1991 would compensate for the loss of the prototype

satellite, its launch was delayed after engineers discovered a flaw in the solar array

drive-control electronics unit. By late December, work to revive the test satellite

continued, while General Donald J. Kutyna, the commander-in-chief of U.S . Space

Command, and General Moorman, commander of Air Force Space Command,

convinced Space Systems Division to give high priority to solving GPS II-11's design

flaw. Meanwhile, Air Force Space Command delcared GPS II-1o ready for operations

on 15 January, well below the normal check out time of30 to 6o days, and one day

before the air campaign began."

Problems with the GPS ground segment proved more alarming than the challenge ofachieving the optimum satellite configuration . In August planners found

themselves woefully short of receiver terminals . The system relied on two main

types ofreceivers at the outset of Desert Shield. Rockwell International produced

some 550 manpack/vehicular sets weighing approximately 181bs. each at a cost of

$45,000 per set . Their design called for "Selective Availability," the capability of receiving encrypted precision-coded signals from the satellites that resulted in positional accuracies to within thirty feet . Because of their weight, most ofthese sets

had been vehicle-mounted, while the high cost had limited their production to

only 550 sets ."

Meanwhile, other companies had begun to produce commercial receivers to meet

the growing demand in the private sector. One of these, Trimble Navigation of

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accurate than the Rockwell military receiver, the SLGR weighed only 41bs., cost

about $340o, and proved small enough to fit into a soldier's pocket . The Army had

purchased 50o demonstration SLGRs for testing before Desert Shield, and it distributed the sets to forces that deployed in August. Although every available military

and commercial set quickly found its way to the Middle East, the dramatically

increased demand could not be met. In an area of difficult terrain, few landmarks,

and poor maps, GPS quickly assumed vital importance. After the Army Space

Command expressed an "urgent need" for additional SLGRs, the GPS joint program

office initiated two emergency requisitions for the commercially produced SLGR. In

September, Trimble began shipping to the theater 1 > ooo SLGRs and 300 vehicle

installation kits . Later, in December, Trimble contracted for an additional 7,178

SLGRs, with most earmarked for Army use . 12

Along with a shortage of receivers, authorities also had to face the issue of protecting GPS signals broadcast by means of Selective Availability. In contrast to the

military P-code sets, the commercially produced SLGRs received a coarse acquisition signal, which could be further degraded to deny precise navigational data. On

1o August Selective Availability was turned off to permit use of the Army's initial

batch ofcommercially produced SLGRs. It remained off when it became apparent

most sets would be commercially procured and, also, at the request of U. S . Special

Operations Command. At the same time, GPS authorities made an additional

compromise by permitting GPS course acquisition transmissions to occur without

introducing additional error. The "open" signal resulted in the relatively high

accuracy of approximately loo feet for the commercial receivers, in contrast to half

that figure with Selective Availability turned on.21

Beyond the difficulties of receiver shortages and signal usage, GPS users faced

considerable challenges in establishing sets and terminal networks, ensuring

effective linkage between field units and commands and, especially, in familiarizing

themselves with the space equipment and its capabilities . Fortuitously, on the eve

of Desert Storm, GPS officials had nearly finished the major improvements to the

satellite constellation and had "solved" the receiver shortfall problem.

Environmental Monitoring. Defense Meteorological Satellite Program (DMSP), Landsat

and SPOT. Coalition leaders understood the importance of weather satellite data and

imagery for mission planning from the beginning of Desert Shield. The United

States averaged six meteorological satellites in orbit simultaneously during the Gulf

conflict . These included the military's three polar sun-synchronous DMSP satellites,

the two National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) TIROS polarorbiting spacecraft, and the civilian GOES geostationary satellite . In addition,

coalition forces received weather information from Japan's GMS system, positioned

250
g

and military satellites played important roles, because they frequently complemented each other's coverage14

DMSP proved to be the most useful system in providing cloud-cover imagery

and temperature and moisture data in its twice daily sweeps of the Gulf. At the

beginning of Desert Shield, the DMSP configuration consisted of a standard, twosatellite constellation . Flight 8 had been launched on i9 June 1987 and Flight 9 on

2 February 1988. Both had been performing without major incident . Air Force

officials, in fact, had stressed improvements to the control segment of the program

by creating a new operations center at Fairchild Air Force Base, Washington, to

replace the Offutt facility, as well as upgrade the Thule, Greenland, tracking station

to replace the site at Loring Air Force Base, Maine. By August 199o most of these

changes had been completed."

Traditionally, the weather satellite program had followed a "launch on need"

strategy, which required at least a 9o-day wait before the request from the Air

Weather Service resulted in a launch. In mid-199o, prior to Desert Shield, planners

decided to replace the two orbiting DMSP satellites with Flights 1o and 11, scheduled

for launch aboard Atlas E boosters in October 199o and July 1991, respectively. After

the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, Air Weather Service officers met with their Air Force

Space Command counterparts to determine the need for launching Flight 1o, now

rescheduled for 21 November. Problems with the Operational Linescan System

(OLS) on Flight 9 convinced them to proceed with the launch . As it turned out, the

launch took place on 1 December, but it proved far from routine . Apparently, the

apogee kick motor exploded leaving the satellite in an incorrect, lower orbit .

Although it would be replaced in less than a year, it nevertheless supplied useful

information for the Gulf operations. By year's end, three healthy DMSP satellites

stood ready for weather support .16

The main difficulty with the DMSP system proved to be its lack of tactical mobility. A system originally designed to fulfill strategic requirements only it recently had

stressed tactical applications. Successful operations depended on establishing highquality communication links between field units and the central DMSP Mark IV van.

This 26,ooo-lb vehicle required a C-130 for transport . On 2o August the first of six

Mark IV "tactical" terminals deployed to the theater to receive downlink imagery

from the satellites. Five supported marine aviation and amphibious operations; one

Air Force van was positioned at Riyadh together with the theater Tactical Forecast

Unit. The latter transmitted weather data to more than thirty sites within the region

by means of secure weather fax. The Navy also had DMSP terminals on its carriers

and command and flag ships ."

Given the focus on tactical operational requirements, however, officials preferred

a more mobile DMSP terminal. During Desert Shield, the Air Force moved rapidly

25 1
for more tactically-oriented terminals continued . On 7 November, Military Airlift

Command proposed to Air Force Space Command the development of a lightweight, rapidly-deployable "Small Tactical Terminal" for each unit to receive nearreal-time data. General Moorman approved the concept, and developers hoped the

tactical terminals could replace the single DMSP van early in 1991 ."

From the beginning of Desert Shield, Coalition forces supplemented DMSP

forecasting with weather data form the civilian satellites . NOAAs TIROS spacecraft,

for example, provided useful transmissions at 2 P.M. local time on the late-afternoon

jet stream that affected evening weather patterns in the desert. For the Army, the

geostationary civilian satellites proved to be more useful than the military polarorbiting satellites . The civilian satellites re-imaged the same portion of the earth

every thirty minutes in contrast to the twelve-hour cycle of the polar satellites .

Moreover, although DMSP provided a smaller-scale weather picture, which proved

useful for identifying fog and sandstorms, the Army suffered from limited access to

DMSP data because of the small number of receivers in the theater. Since the Mark

IV terminal did not meet Army mobility requirements, Army units below theater

level relied on a commercial weather receiver, the German-made WRAASE terminal.

Available prior to Desert Shield, the civilian weather receiver could obtain imagery

from civilian satellites offour nations, but not from U.S. military DMSP satellites .

Most DMSP readouts did not reach Army units, which prompted the Air Force to

develop a small, high-resolution tactical terminal for direct satellite-to-user transmission ofimagery and data. In mid-December a small experimental DMSP receiver

had proven successful in at the Army's Central Command headquarters . At year's

end, it remained uncertain whether the tactical terminals could arrive in sufficient

quantity in time to be useful in Gulf hostilities.z9

Weather satellites represented one avenue to gaining a better understanding of

the battlefield environment . Another involved the use of wide-area and multispectral imagery (MSI) from space systems to prepare accurate maps and to support

terrain analysis requirements . MSI images depict features beyond human visual

capability, including spectral change resulting from ground disturbances. In the

Persian Gulf region, where accurate mission planning maps did not exist, multispectral imagery could benefit all the services . 10

For multispectral imagery and wide-area coverage of the area of operations,

Coalition forces relied on two civilian sources, the U.S . Commerce Department's

Landsat4 and 5 satellites, and the French-owned earth resources satellite system,

SPOT (Satellite Probatoire d'Observation de la Terre/Exploratory Satellite for Earth

Observation) . Both ofthese earth resources imaging satellites provided essential

wide-area surveillance of the battlefield area not available from the high-resolution

sensors aboard the U.S. national reconnaissance satellites . Landsat satellites imaged

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area on each pass produced a wide field ofview that enabled mapmakers to create

products with a scale of approximately 1 :8o,ooo . SPOT satellites, although not MSIcapable, performed in like fashion . The primary SPOT sensor used three different

bands at a 20-meter resolution, and one 1o-meter panchromatic band to achieve an

image map scale of 1 :25,000 . In contrast to Landsat, SPOT satellites viewed each part

of the earth every twenty-six days, and the width of its pass measured approximately

sixty kilometers. Owners of both systems required users to purchase the requested

imagery and refrain from sharing it with third parties . Coalition leaders, worried

that Iraq might acquire multispectral imagery, convinced Landsat and SPOT officials

not to make it available to Saddam Hussein's regime between August 1990 and

March 1991 . 3 '

The U.S Army's topographical battalion arrived in the Gulf in August with maps

based on 1987 Landsat imagery. By November, however, it had established three

operational MSI workstations and had begun receiving updated imagery. Yet

officials did not have an effective courier system to deliver the imagery to users

until late January 1991, and they worried that units might not have sufficient time to

fully exploit it."

The U.S Air Force relied on Landsat imagery for a variety of purposes, including

construction oflarge airfields in Saudi Arabia . Specialists converted Landsat imagery of existing airstrips into engineering drawings for use in planning and building

some of the world's largest air bases. For mission planning and rehearsing, however,

both the Air Force and the Marine Corps preferred using SPOT imagery because of

its 1o-meter resolution. In September the Air Force purchased a sizable amount of

SPOT images and offered to share the data with the Army. But the Army had no

funding available to pay the royalty fees and, as a result, Army units did not have

access to SPOT data during the GulfWar."

During Desert Shield, Coalition forces became convinced that multispectral

imagery could provide direct warfighting support . Beyond its use in preparing

accurate maps, terrain analyses, and strike planning, it enabled U.S . Central Command leaders to keep abreast of Iraqi activity. By comparing Landsat imagery taken

in August and December along the Kuwaiti-Saudi Arabian border, planners could

determine the changes that had occurred . Bright spots appeared when the data was

displayed on a single image, which indicated ground cover had been altered. At the

same time, Coalition authorities realized that multispectral imagery could also give

the Iraqis insight into Allied planning. Shortly before the ground war, the Defense

Intelligence Agency intervened to prevent U.S . news media from obtaining Landsat

data of the Kuwait-Iraq-Saudi border, which might have revealed the Coalition

buildup in preparation for the "left hook" offensive maneuver at the war's start .

Although users of multispectral imagery during Desert Shield would have preferred

2S3
conflict ahead.

Early warning-Defense Support Program (DSP). Early warning Defense Support

Program satellites would play a crucial role in detecting tactical ballistic missiles .

Well aware that Iraq possessed Scud tactical missiles, United States military planners

worked from the start of Desert Shield to optimize the strategic early warning satellite system for coverage of the tactical threat . In August 19go, the DSP network

consisted of three operational satellites and two spares in geostationary orbit.

Originally designed for strategic requirements, DSP's primary mission continued to

be warning of ballistic missile launches . Secondary missions included detection of

space launches and nuclear detonations for test ban monitoring. One satellite

positioned over the Indian Ocean at 7o degrees east monitored intercontinental

ballistic missile (ICBM) launches from the Asian landmass, while the other two

focused on the sea-launched ballistic missile (SLBM) threat from their positions in

the South Atlantic at 7o degrees west and over the eastern Pacific at 135 degrees west.

Although in 1989 and 199o the Air Force had launched the first two of its newgeneration DSP satellites, DSP-1/Block 14, it elected to use its two oldest orbiting

spacecraft to monitor Scud launches, because they were better positioned to

support Gulf operations."

During the Desert Shield buildup officials worried about timeliness of detection

and warning. Technically, the spacecraft's infrared telescope scanned an area larger

than it could observe at a particular time because it was mounted off-angle to its

rotational axis . Rotating six times per second, the satellite required ten seconds to

re-image an area where a missile had been detected . As a result, the longer time

needed to determine launch site, trajectory and impact point became especially

troublesome for Coalition forces challenged to destroy short-range tactical missiles.

Air Force planners sought to increase early detection of Scud launches by repositioning the Indian Ocean satellite farther westward in order to maximize its coverage of the Gulf region ."

DSP program managers also attempted to reduce the time it took to process and

relay warning data to Patriot antiaircraft missile crews in the Gulf. DSP procedures

called for the Indian Ocean satellite to transmit data first to the Air Force Space

Command ground station at Woomera, Australia, then up to a Defense Satellite

Communications System (DSCS) satellite for relay over the Pacific to the ground

terminal at Buckley Air National Guard Base, Colorado, and onward from there to

the U.S . Space Command's Missile Warning Center, Air Force Space Operations

Center, and Space Command Center at Cheyenne Mountain. There, analysts

determined the likely impact zone of the missile and transmitted this information to

U.S. Central Command and air defense commanders by way of a DSCS satellite over

254
civilian target areas would receive precious little warning.

To enhance the Coalition's ability to defeat the Scud threat, personnel at U.S .

Central Command, Air Force Space Command, and U.S . Space Command emphasized training and straightforward procedures-and they worked hard to improve

warning and response efficiency during Desert Shield. At the same time, Air Force

Space Command sought, unsuccessfully, to reduce the warning time by deploying

DSP terminals to the theater. By doing so, the delay could have been reduced from

five minutes to as little as 9o seconds, thereby increasing up to five minutes the

warning time given to Patriot batteries . Although satellite early warning had been in

place since early August, it required the full five and half months of Desert Shield to

establish the secure communication paths, develop alert procedures and train all

involved to achieve the fine-tuning Air Force Space Command believed necessary

for success ."

In mid-January 1991, on the eve of combat, the military space community could

look back on over five months of intense effort to adjust space forces for tactical

operations in the Middle East. Often resorting to innovative solutions to support

the tactical warfighter, they relied on the inherent flexibility of space systems and

their own ingenuity to overcome the limitations of a Cold War space posture . Although confident of success, the planners realized that the system remained fragile

in crucial aspects and vulnerable to potential Iraqi counter actions. It remained to

be seen whether space would prove decisive in the unfolding conflict.

Operation Desert Storm-Combat

When the United Nations ultimatum on Iraqi withdrawal from Kuwait expired on

15 January 1991, the Coalition decided on immediate military action. Desert Storm

began on the night of 16-17 January with a massive air campaign led by F-117 Stealth

fighters firing laser-guided weapons at targets in Baghdad. Following the radarevading fighters came a series of coordinated air strikes in Iraq and Kuwait in conjunction with the launching ofNavy Tomahawk cruise missiles. Coalition leaders

thought the air assault would last only a few days, but it continued for another six

weeks. Observers found the course of the ground war equally surprising. Expected

to last several weeks, the land campaign ended after only four days. No one would

deny, however, that the "blitzkrieg" ground offensive resulted from the length and

effectiveness of the air campaign. Because the combat phase of Desert Storm has

been discussed in detail elsewhere-as well as shown to millions of television

viewers worldwide-this study will focus on the performance ofspace systems

and Air Force operations in the GulfWar.

255
When we started our deployment, we had only the most rudimentary

communications infrastructure in Southwest Asia and the challenge of

distance was daunting. Thanks to good planning and to our understanding of the importance of satellites, we quickly and smoothly transitioned

to a mature tactical theater network.J9

The military satellite communications network quickly proved its worth. When

Coalition air forces began on 16-17 January what would become a 39-day air assault,

they had the unprecedented advantage of access to a single data base, or Air Tasking

Order (ATO). Communications satellites also made possible immediate updates of

target assignments and provided "positive" control of combat operations from premission planning to post-mission aircrew debriefing. Executing over 700,000

transactions daily, satellites made Desert Storm air operations the most efficient

and accurate to date. Once Desert Storm started, satellite communications more

than doubled . By this time, the Coalition communications satellite network

transmitted to more than 1,500 satellite communications terminals in the theater .

More than three quarters of these were single-channel "manpack" military and

commercial receivers .

DSCS proved to be the most important intra-theater long-haul, multichannel

communications system . DSCS satellites carried over 50 percent of communications

traffic during the war and ensured effective command and control for both strategic

and tactical operations throughout the conflict . DSCS provided the daily tasking

order to every air base in the theater, and continued to link air and ground units to

their bases in the States . It handled a 75 percent increase in intelligence relay to the

United States for analysis, then back to the U.S . Central Command for use by

deployed warfighters.41

By the end of Desert Shield, more than 120 DSCS tactical terminals had been delivered to the Gulf. When the ground forces initiated their "left hook" attack, many

units moved with tactical DSCS terminals, some on flatbed trucks to avoid reassembling the satellite antenna during relocation . At the conclusion ofhostilities, 33

DSCS terminals supported the warfighters in Kuwait and Iraq. In short, DSCS helped

guarantee the command and control vital to the success of the war effort.

Navigation-GPS. By mid-January 1991, Air Force Space Command had declared

the problem-plagued satellite #6 fit for operations, but engineers could not alleviate

GPS 11-us design flaw in time to affect the conflict . As a result, the GPS constellation

remained at sixteen satellites during Desert Storm. U.S . Space Command's postwar

evaluation would characterize GPS as "perhaps the most visible example of space

systems support to U.S . troops in Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm.""

Most attention has focused on the navigation system's vital contribution to ground

256
of ground operation, from large-scale maneuvers to individual soldiers moving

through the featureless desert . The Rockwell "man-pack," which troops mounted

on trucks or helicopters, and the SLGR, affectionately known as "Slugger" and

carried by individual soldiers, enabled units to plot and achieve objectives and

relocate tactical operations centers, Special Forces personnel to operate effectively in

enemy territory, artillery observers to target enemy positions and direct friendly fire,

and troops to clear land mines. In short, GPS gave the Army eyes to operate in the

desert and made possible the successful envelopment maneuver that brought the

ground war to a rapid conclusion.

GPS also served the other services . Not only did it furnish Marine artillery units

with precise positioning data, it helped naval forces clear mines and provide precise

coordinates for cruise missile strikes against Baghdad targets . The Air Force benefited from GPS in a variety of ways. For one, the system gave B-52 bombers an allweather flight capability for their missions. For another, in the opening hours of the

war, Special Operations Forces Pave Low helicopters with GPS teamed with Army

Apache attack helicopters to destroy two Iraqi radar sites and, thereby, create a

major gap in the Iraqi air defense network. F-16 aircraft also used GPS for passive

navigation to the initial point of the bomb run. Of nearly Zoo F-16s in theater, 8o to

9o possessed GPS receivers. Especially valuable in bad weather, the precision

navigation system freed the pilot to take care of other business and optimize his use

of weapons. Fuel permitting, GPS enabled aircraft to remain in the target area as

forward air controllers, who could furnish to later strike aircraft precise coordinates

and current battlefield data. GPS also promoted superb close-air-support coordination with GPS-equipped ground units. Possessing a GPS receiver and a laser compass, ground troops could triangulate on a target and pass the coordinates to the

GPS-equipped F-16 which, in turn, could relay them to strike aircraft . In light of the

traditional Army-Air Force divisiveness over the close-air-support mission, spacebased GPS foreshadowed the advent of a new era in air-ground cooperation .43

Environmental Monitoring-DMSP, Landsat and SPOT. When coalition forces

launched the air war, they confronted the worst weather experienced in the Gulf in

fourteen years . As Air Force Chief of Staff General Merrill McPeak later recalled,

weather conditions were "at least twice as bad as the worst-case estimates "44

Moreover, Coalition forces learned during Desert Shield that weather in the region

proved notoriously susceptible to sudden changes . Heavy coastal fogs, blinding

sandstorms, and heavy rains could seriously hinder operations. On 24 January 1991,

for example, DMSP imagery depicted a clear Baghdad and overcast Basra, yet a

second DMSP readout less than two hours later showed the reverse . Given these

conditions, DMSP and supporting civil weather satellites made possible the planning

257
Imagery and data transmitted from the three-satellite DMSP constellation, in

particular, helped planners develop real-time schedules, make immediate, accurate

retargeting decisions for reconnaissance and tactical missions, and aid in bomb

damage assessments . The tactical operator could effectively choose the best weapon

for the target based on known weather conditions in the target area. Current

weather data proved especially useful for enhancement of night vision and infrared

targeting . In this regard, DMSP weather reports proved vital for the success of

precision-guided laser and optical ordnance, which depended on clear weather

for accurate target designation."

In addition to DMSP's importance for tactical air operations, it aided in the

movement of troops during the ground war. Moreover, it helped predict and track

rainstorms and sandstorms, oil fires and oil spills, and cloudcover, as well as analyze

the potential spread of chemical agents and correlate storms with flood threats .

General Norman Schwarzkopf, commander-in-chief of U.S . Central Command,

thought so highly of DMSP that he always kept the most current DMSP data within

arm's reach for quick reference . On balance, DMSP proved to be a crucial "force

multiplier" during the conflict."

Although the Landsat and SPOT remote sensing satellites played a larger role in

Desert Storm planning, their multispectral imagery also supported tactical operations during the battle . The special capabilities of SPOT sensors proved very useful

for engineers, who could adjust the optical images for off-nadir observing . This

allowed any site to be viewed up to almost i,ooo kilometers on either side of the

satellite's path. As a result, the normal period before revisiting the particular

location could be reduced from twenty-six days to two. Aircrews in the Gulf used

a data base ofstereoscopic images to prepare flight routes and target attack procedures. One mission that used this system to great advantage involved an attack on

Kuwait's Mina al Ahmadi oil complex, which Iraq had used to create a massive oil

spill in the Persian Gulf. The U.S . F-iii pilots who bombed the well heads stated

afterward that, in effect, they had flown the mission long before taking off."

Although Landsat and SPOT wide-area surveillance contributions received welldeserved accolades, U.S . national reconnaissance satellites also played a key role in

the space surveillance and intelligence war. Likewise, these space systems confronted

the challenge ofadapting their strategic capabilities to meet tactical requirements.

It has been widely reported that the sensitive intelligence program directed by the

National Reconnaissance Office used both optical imaging KH-n "Keyhole"

satellites and radar-imaging "Lacrosse" satellites for intelligence collection in the

Gulf War. With their multispectral optical sensors, the Keyhole spacecraft are

reported to be capable of achieving a resolution of nearly ten centimeters during

daylight hours in clear weather. The Lacrosse radar imaging satellite gave Gulfforces

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Battlefield commanders usually preferred the wide-angle imagery of the civil

satellites to the incredibly large-scale detail depicted by the intelligence collectors .

Yet, in many cases these satellites furnished analysts superb battle damage imagery.

The ability to determine detailed damage caused by precision, "smart" weapons, for

example, made it unnecessary to dispatch of reconnaissance aircraft to overfly the

heavily-defended target area. Intelligence satellites also contributed to one of the

most challenging missions of the war, locating Iraq's mobile Scud launchers for

destruction before the DSP early warning satellites became involved ."

Early warning-DSP. Saddam Hussein saw in the surface-to-surface Scud missile a

terrorist weapon that could split the allied Coalition and bring Israel into the war.

DSP's role was to detect and provide sufficient warning for strikes against the

launchers and for the Army's Patriot batteries to intercept incoming missiles . Like

the intelligence satellites, DSP had been designed for national strategic objectives

rather than battlefield support . Nevertheless, the measures taken during Desert

Shield to make the system more tactically responsive proved successful . DSP

satellites detected Scuds in time to alert civilians and military defense personnel

to don their chemical protection suits and take cover, and for Patriot batteries to

engage the missile ."

Like DSP, Patriot had not been designed for tactical ballistic missile warning in

desert conditions. Limited to a 5o-mile range, the system's target radar could not

spot a Scud before the missile's terminal phase of flight . At the same time, the fire

control electronics system often overheated in the Gulf's desert climate, which led

battery operators to keep the radar systems in an inactive, standby mode until DSP

satellites detected a Scud. Initially, missile crews had as little as 9o seconds after DSP

warning to acquire, track, lock-on, and launch to destroy the Scud. Often the

Patriot intercepted the missile at ranges offive miles or less, in full view ofground

observers and a worldwide television audience. In cases where television broadcast

the attack, the allies worried that Iraqi viewers could adjust to more accurately retarget the site . As the war progressed, the arrival of recently-tested Constant Source

terminals in the theater gave Patriot batteries as much as five minutes warning time.

In fact, DSP acquired all of the Scud launches . On balance, the missile defense

system gave a good accounting ofitself. Ofthe reported forty missiles launched

against Israel and forty-six against Saudi Arabia, the vast majority either fell victim

to Patriot crews or dropped harmlessly well away from their intended targets ."

Lessons Learned and Normalizing Military Space

Military analysts concluded that, in Desert Storm, space systems contributed to

victory in the political battle, ensured effective command and control, and helped

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Desert Storm was a watershed event for space systems . Satellites, and the

ground systems and people trained to control them, played a crucial role

in the outcome of the conflict . Space owned the battlefield. We had a robust on-orbit constellation and the inherent spacecraft flexibility to alter

our operations to support specific needs of the terrestrial warfighter,"

In many ways the most impressive element of the GulfWar proved to be the

ability of space personnel to adapt their systems for the tactical warfighter. At the

outset of Desert Shield, few of the space systems were in position to provide the

support upon which Coalition forces would come to depend. Most had been

designed during the Cold War to satisfy strategic requirements . Planners needed

the full five months of Desert Shield to optimize space and ground segments and

to create the necessary inter- and intea-theater infrastructure . Fortunately, in

Saddam Hussein, the Coalition faced an enemy without significant space assets

ofhis own, and one unwilling to prevent the buildup or seriously menace the

vulnerable space network in place by January i99i . At the same time, Coalition

members benefited from not having to face another conflict while dealing with the

Gulf crisis . They remained well aware that their good fortune could not be guaranteed in future situations .

While basking in the glow of a justly-praised, decisive victory, the U.S . space

community sought to learn and improve . The Air Force was at the core ofthis

effort. Postwar analyses correctly emphasized deficiencies and the challenges ahead.

Above all, analysts realized that in spite ofmounting the largest contingent ofspacebased forces to date, their systems proved insufficiently designed for tactical use,

and ground personnel often lacked the necessary equipment and training to fully

exploit space capabilities . Even systems traditionally more oriented toward tactical

operations encountered problems . In order to meet the challenge of supporting the

warfighter, Air Force leaders realized that they must lead the effort to modernize

space infrastructure, continue technical improvements to space systems, and extend

space awareness throughout the Air Force and the armed forces as a whole. They

expected Desert Storm to provide the momentum in the early 19gos for improvement in every area of space operations. The attention of the military space community focused on systems and capabilities represented by the four mission areas first

established in the mid-i98os : space control, force application, force enhancement,

and space support .

Space control referred to operations to maintain friendly use of space and deny

the same to potential enemies . Over the years authorities in this area, had been most

successful in developing protective measures for satellite systems by means of

hardening, increasing the number of satellites, applying better tactics, and deploying

mobile ground segments. Likewise, space surveillance capabilities had improved

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Although attempts to 

py py

p

unsuccessful, Desert Storm renewed interest in developing such a capability.

Ever since the beginning of the space race, the Air Force had stated a need for an

antisatellite system . By the mid-i98os, the service began testing an F-15-launched

heat-seeking antisatellite weapon, termed the Miniature Homing Vehicle. Concerned about expense and the system's potential impact on the arms race, however,

Congress in 1988 banned further testing . The Air Force subsequently canceled the

program. Although the congressional decision addressed orbital testing specifically,

the Army proceeded with tests of a ground-based kinetic energy interceptor as part

of the Strategic Defense Initiative . Program managers remained unenthusiastic

about the Army's antisatellite requirement, even as they continued to develop the

weapon in the early 199os. 13

The GulfWar convinced commanders ofthe importance of satellite reconnaissance and the need to deny it to potential enemies . General Charles A. Horner,

commander-in-chief of U.S . Space Command and commander of Air Force Space

Command after Desert Storm repeatedly argued for the capability to destroy foreign

satellites, even those belonging to allies if they were aiding an enemy. Other Air

Force leaders agreed on the need to control space. As Air Force Secretary Sheila

Widnall asserted in the fall of 1994, "Part of the Air Force mission is control of

space, our ability to deny the use of space if necessary." Despite the pleas from

Desert Storm leaders, the antisatellite program was confined at mid-decade to a

research effort by all three services ."

The force application area confronted similar roadblocks to the use of military

weapons in space. This element comprised fire support operations from space

against enemy forces by means of ballistic missile defense and "power projection"

operations against terrestrial targets . The latter represented only a theoretical

application, and no plans existed to include power-projection space weapons in the

force structure. Ballistic missile defense, which had developed under the auspices

of the Strategic Defense Initiative, called for layered defenses comprised ofboth

terrestrial and space assets . Space-based elements included Brilliant Eyes and

Brilliant Pebbles . Both programs had experienced considerable change over time as

a result of the SDI's uncertain fortunes . In the early 199os, Brilliant Pebbles envisioned satellite interceptors designed to demolish ballistic missiles in their midcourse and terminal phases of flight . But, like the antisatellite program, the Strategic

Defense Initiative Organization's space-based interceptor was limited to a technology base program, with the objective only of developing technologies as security

against potential future threats."

Brilliant Eyes, however, drew more interest from Air Force space officials who

sought to improve theater space surveillance capabilities after Desert Storm . The

Brilliant Eyes concept called for a "distributed" satellite network consisting of

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reentry vehicles and decoys, and predicting impact points. Like national reconnaissance assets, these satellites would also perform an arms control monitoring function. Air Force Space Command had been interested in Brilliant Eyes because of its

relationship with plans to upgrade the DSP early warning satellites . On the other

hand, it seemed that the project did not address the command's space surveillance

requirements . Following the GulfWar, the issue became more complicated when

the Strategic Defense Initiative Organization decided to refocus the program to

emphasize theater missile defense . The new concept called for development in

stages to provide both national and global protection against ballistic missiles . The

reoriented Brilliant Eyes distributed sensor program, now managed by Air Force

Space Command, led Air Force space authorities to reexamine the operational

implications for their own missile warning and space surveillance requirements . 16

In the mid-i99os both the ballistic missile defense and antisatellite programs

continued, but only as research efforts that reflected considerable debate about their

necessity, feasibility, and cost-effectiveness . By contrast, postwar interest in improving the military space posture centered on programs embraced by the mission areas

of force enhancement and space support .

The elements of the force enhancement area involved space combat support

operations, which had proven the most visible and important during the Gulf

conflict. Dating back to the Eisenhower era, they represented the traditional defense

support functions of communications, tactical warning and attack assessment,

navigation, environmental monitoring, reconnaissance, and surveillance .

Space-based reconnaissance and surveillance systems. These systems operated under

the auspices of the National Reconnaissance Office, which remained a sensitive

agency in spite of the first public discussion of its activities in September 1992.

Following Desert Storm, in which "national" space sensors proved capable of

providing outstanding resolution but little wide-area surveillance, overcoming this

coverage limitation became part of a broad effort to increase space-based wide-area

surveillance . In the post-Cold War arena, intelligence and surveillance imaging

systems required more flexibility to respond to rapidly-developing tactical intelligence needs. Some critics recommended a distributed system of satellites that could

be "everywhere, all the time." But did this mean replacing the large, heavy strategicoriented reconnaissance and radar-imaging satellites with smaller spacecraft

carrying lower-resolution sensors? The latter would also have the advantage of not

requiring launch by the expensive, heavy-lift Titan IV booster. By mid-decade,

planners at the National Reconnaissance Office were reported to be weighing a new

system ofnumerous smaller, lighter satellites against retaining the existing configuration that could be improved to image eight times the area ofcurrent satellites ."

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complaint of Air Force space agencies which worried that the intelligence community too often failed to coordinate its space requirements to best support the

warfighter. A report by the vice president's National Space Council late in the Bush

administration called for reduction and, where possible, elimination of security

constraints that continued to work against effective integration of the military, civil,

and commercial space sectors ."

Environmental monitoring, including weather and earth-sensing satellites. Evaluators

of satellite performance in the GulfWar concluded that while DMSP "exceeded

expectations," data must be made available in greater volume and more frequently.

Criticism centered on the lack of sufficiently mobile receivers in the field. Because

Army units below theater level had no access to the non-mobile Mark IV receiver,

they had no direct means of using DMSP data and relied, instead, on a commercial

receiver for satellite data. Only late in the war did the Air Force introduce two

prototype terminals small enough for use in the rear of the Army's High Utility

Multipurpose Vehicle, or "Humvee"Air Force analysts agreed that they needed to

develop and field sufficient numbers of mobile high-resolution DMSP receivers

capable of obtaining imagery and data from both military and civil satellites . 59

Planners expressed satisfaction with the evolutionary development of the weather

satellites and, together with deploying more mobile terminals, expected to replace

the current DMSP Block 5D-a spacecraft with the more capable 5D-3 series early in

the new century. On the other hand, the widespread use of military and civil polarorbiting satellites for weather data precipitated reconsideration of the old issue of

combining programs to save money and avoid redundancy. With post-Cold War

budget austerity looming, proponents of"convergence," or merging the systems,

optimistically forecast success in this eighth major examination of the question. Air

Force officials appeared more favorable as long as service requirements could be

satisfied. Yet the postwar plans for convergence of the civilian and military systems

foundered on the same hurdles that had prevented the success of earlier efforts .

NOAA's international commitments meant including the Japanese and Europeans,

who balked at participating in a military system and at agreeing to U.S . control of

weather data during hostilities . 61

Postwar reports also examined the need for an advanced multispectral imaging

(MSI) capability. Landsat and SPOT, they noted, did not always provide timely or

accurate data for mission planning, bomb damage assessment, or use of precision

guided weapons. Neither system combined sufficient spectral and spatial capabilities, while efforts to merge MSI data to obtain the required resolution proved slow.

National systems, on the other hand, provided superb spatial resolution, but little

overall view of the battle area. They lacked sufficient MSI capability and proved

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coverage, direct links to users, and timeliness. Meanwhile, in the aftermath of Desert

Storm, the Defense Department worked with NASA to achieve improved multispectral imaging capabilities through acquisition of the Landsat7 spacecraft ."

Navigation-GPS. Evaluations of the GPS navigation system expressed little criticism

of the system's performance, especially after three-dimensional coverage could be

supplied. Like DMSP, the assessment of GPS centered on the shortage of mobile

receivers . Planners simply had not foreseen the need for sizable quantities of mobile

receivers for large maneuvers or operations like Desert Storm. With so few military

Selective Availability receivers on hand at the outset of Desert Shield, Coalition

forces requisitioned less accurate, but more functional commercial sets . It took up

to six months for their arrival, which limited training effectiveness. Above all, use of

commercial receivers caused military authorities to forego encryption, which would

have provided data with even greater accuracy. Throughout Desert Shield and

Desert Storm, managers of the GPS program worried that Iraqi forces might take

advantage ofthe "open" signals . Understandably, their primary postwar recommendation involved securing sufficient crypto-capable GPS receivers and providing

thorough training in their use. Even so, Selective Availability remained a source of

debate because space officials knew that a process termed Differential-GPS allowed

users to work around Selective Availability to achieve highly accurate position

information. Air Force priority following the Gulf War involved achieving initial

operational status with a full constellation of 24 satellites, which occurred in 1993,

and completing installation of receivers in aircraft by the end of the decade."

Tactical warning and attack assessment. The integration of DSP warning and Patriot

anti-tactical ballistic missile capability proved to be one of the great achievements

of the Gulf conflict. Although the anti-Scud warning system exceeded every expectation, it took months to develop the necessary coordination with a space system

that originally had been designed and configured for strategic warning, not tactical

defense . Warning time for Patriot crews remained uncomfortably brief, while the

satellite sensors could provide only general launch site and impact point identification. Desert Storm had clearly demonstrated the need for improved ballistic missile

tactical warning and assessment and midcourse tracking capability. For years the Air

Force had sought to improve the warning satellite network. In the early 198os, the

service studied a replacement program called the "Advanced Warning System,"

which the Strategic Defense Initiative Organization absorbed in 1984 and renamed

"Boost Surveillance and Tracking System." By the end of the decade, pressure from

a Congress worried about violating the anti-ballistic missile treaty led instead to the

Organization's adoption of Brilliant Eyes and the return ofthe Boost Surveillance

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System (FEWS) ."

In the wake of Desert Storm, leaders like General Horner made FEWS their highest priority. The new system would retain its strategic capability but be far more

effective against short-range tactical missiles. It would possess greater on-board

processing capability and more flexible communications. Mobile DSP receivers

would also become part of the improved system . U.S . Space Command's postwar

assessment made its number one recommendation the normalization of tactical

warning support through provision of the necessary equipment, including requirements in operational plans, and thorough training of personnel . Evaluators went on

to declare that "what was said about warning is true for all space systems . All space

support should be normalized. . . [and] institutionalized :" In short, space must be

integrated into all preexisting and new plans and become part of the mainstream for

all services . Air Force space leaders had been promoting this theme for years, and

would soon return to it in their renewed campaign for military space leadership."

High costs and technological challenges, however, led FEWS down a rocky road

in the early 199os. A number of studies compared FEWS with various alternatives,

including a combination of Brilliant Eyes and DSP satellites and a modified DSP

system . Air Force officials also eliminated a number of FEWS sensors to reduce the

expense and weight, which made it a candidate for the less costly Atlas II booster

instead of the Titan IV. A replacement for DSP still had not been determined by the

time the Clinton administration assumed office in early 1993 . The new defense team

made the issue a major focus of its so-called Bottom Up Review of defense acquisition programs. On the basis of the review, in early 1994 Defense Secretary Les Aspin

canceled FEWS, declaring it too expensive . Meanwhile, the search continued for a

more effective system than DSP. Replacement options for DSP included an Alert

Locate and Report Missiles system (ALARM), that was proposed in the summer of

1994. After assessing several ALARM proposals consisting of both geosynchronous

and low-earth orbiting satellites, congressional opposition led planners to settle on a

new Space-Based Infrared System, termed SBIRS, that would involve a configuration

of four geosynchronous-orbit satellites in its first phase. 61

Communications. Along with tactical warning and attack assessment, military satellite communications (MILSATCOM) received special attention from the planners

and postwar analysts . Not only did the Gulf War highlight both its importance and

shortcomings, but for many years projected replacement systems had been among

the most controversial space programs under development. Changing requirements,

technological challenges, and high costs had led to delays and restructuring-and

growing doubts about their operational future. To be sure, communications satellites provided Desert Storm forces the support they needed in spite of the variety of

265
to the limit, highly exposed to jamming, and far less mobile than ground forces

desired. DSCS, for example, provided rapidly moving ground forces a multichannel

terminal with an 8-foot satellite dish, but available power and bandwidth limited the

system's capacity, and prompted use of the higher-gain 20-foot antenna . The tradeoff became less mobility and greater exposure to enemy forces ."

Military communications authorities looked forward to upgrading existing

networks like DSCS, developing more-mobile receiver terminals, and introducing

subsequent systems like the Navy's UHF "follow-on" system and Milstar to ensure

reliable, global communications support-especially for the tactical operator. Most

MILSATCOM concerns centered on the troubled Milstar (Military Strategic and

Tactical Relay) program. In 1989 Congress had directed the Pentagon to restructure

the program from strategic communications support to tactical requirements at

considerably less cost . The Gulf War occurred in the middle of a major effort to

reorient Milstar and save the program from outright termination . Desert Storm

might well have rescued Milstar from certain cancellation ."

Milstar had emerged in the late 1970s from an Air Force proposal for a strategic

satellite system (Stratsat) . Stratsat was to consist of a four-satellite constellation

designed entirely to support nuclear forces . It would avoid potential antisatellite

threats by orbiting at supersynchronous orbits of about 11o,ooo miles, and operate

in the extremely high frequency (EHF) range to provide more bandwidth for

spread-spectrum anti-jam techniques. Considered too ambitious for so limited a

mission, Stratsat gave way in 1981 to Milstar. Planners viewed Milstar as capable of

both strategic and tactical operations, and they proceeded to add to the design

numerous additional missions and requirements . In 1983 President Reagan accorded

Milstar "highest national priority" status, which allowed the program to proceed

with little regard for funding restrictions ."

From the perspective of systems development, Milstar represented a throwback

to "concurrency" procedures which had characterized the Atlas ballistic missile

development program of the 1950s. Program leaders tried to develop Milstar's

"cutting edge" technology and system procurement concurrently, which led to

delays, redesigns, and cost overruns . Thirty years earlier these kinds of problems

seemed relatively unimportant to an Eisenhower administration desperately

determined to produce an operational missile as quickly as possible. Over the

course of the 198os, however, Milstar's difficulties increasingly drew the ire of a

budget-conscious Congress. 69

Initially designed to provide EHF low-data-rate (LDR) communications, the

eight-satellite constellation would benefit from crosslink capabilities and extensive

hardening against radiation. The EHF range had the advantage ofallowing use of

antennas as small as six inches in diameter, which suited highly mobile special

266
chiefgoal was survivability and not high performance, planners did not design it for

high data rates or for each satellite to serve more than fifteen users simultaneously.

As a result, it would supplement rather than replace existing satellites like DSCS

and FLTSATCOM.70

Increasingly plagued by cost overruns and schedule delays, Milstar's original

strategic orientation seemed anachronistic in the post-Cold War world. Desert

Storm, however, reinforced interest in promoting Milstar's tactical capabilities, and

the program underwent several alterations in the early 19gos after Congress demanded its restructure . Milstar also became a subject for the Pentagon's Bottom Up

Review in early 1993. By early 1994, the program envisioned six rather than eight

satellites, without the vast array of survivability features, and with fewer ground

control stations . The first block of two satellites, referred to as Milstar I, would

retain the limited-use LDR capability, but the next-generation Milstar II satellites

would be equipped with a medium-data-rate (MDR) package to support tactical

forces . On 7 February 1994, seven years after its projected launch, the first Milstar I

satellite achieved a successful launch and on-orbit checkout. A second Milstar

satellite was launched in November 1995, and the following month system operators

achieved crosslinking. Plans called for launch ofthe first Milstar II satellite in 1999,

and, by the year aoo6, Air Force program managers expected to see a transition to a

less expensive, lighter Milstar III Advanced EHF satellite. In the future, Milstar

would supplement the Navy's FLTSATCOM and Ultra High Frequency (UHF)

Follow-on (UFO) satellites but coexist with the successor to DSCS III . Nevertheless,

in the mid-199os the jury remained out on Milstar's ability to provide survivable,

jam-resistant, global communications to meet the needs of the National Command

Authorities, battlefield commanders, and operational forces at all levels of conflict ."

Although the Milstar debate drew most of the attention in the early 19gos, Desert

Storm also raised the issue of small satellites for tactical communications that had

been championed byAir Force operational leaders in the late 198os. Although the

two Scout-launched Marine MACSATs received considerable publicity, most analysts

determined that "the war showed there was no limitation ofcapacity for tactical

commanders, so the word is there is no need for small satellites ." The Pentagon

trend in the 19gos still seemed against light "tacsats" in favor of higher frequencies

and other high-power transmission requirements, survivability, and tri-service

satellite systems . Even so, DARPA and the services persevered with their modest

light-satellite programs, and the debate continued ."

Space support. Space launch completed the triangle of special interest space programs in the Pentagon's early 1993 Bottom Up Review of space acquisition systems .

It fell within the mission area of space support, which involved deploying and

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and Air Force Space Command reviewed U.S Central Command's request in the

fall of 199o to launch an additional DSCS III satellite, they quickly determined that

the launch needed to await completion of the Atlas II's new Centaur upper stage,

scheduled for July 1991 . To be sure, from August 19go to the end of Desert Shield, six

military satellites joined the existing network, and all contributed to Desert Storm

operations. Yet these spacecraft had been scheduled well in advance of Desert Shield.

In effect, the U.S . space launch system continued to reflect a policy of launching on

schedule, not on demand. It simply could not respond to short-notice requests."

The familiar conditions that had made space launch the space program's weakest

link dated to the Eisenhower presidency. Beginning in that era launch systems and

infrastructure had supported research and development rather than operational

requirements, then fell into decay following the decision to use the Shuttle in place

of expendable boosters . Despite the demand for expendable rockets after the

Challenger tragedy, the space industry could not retool fast enough to meet rising

demand. Moreover, military, civil, and commercial launch needs meant supporting

three separate launch teams and related equipment . Aging boosters and range

system components, as well as inefficient production lines and launch procedures,

resulted in an expensive, operationally limited system . Space leaders had been trying

for years to solve the launch dilemma.

On the eve of Desert Storm, the Advisory Committee on the Future of the

United States Space Program, known as the Augustine Committee after its chairman, Norman R. Augustine, recommended deemphasizing Shuttle operations and

developing "an evolutionary, unmanned but man-ratable heavy lift launch vehicle ."

On 24 July 1991, President Bush announced a new national space launch strategy

that incorporated many suggestions offered by the Augustine Committee . Calling

for continued use of improved expendable boosters, the President's National

Launch System called for a new, heavy lift vehicle that would reduce launch costs

and improve performance . Yet, late the following year, in November 1992, the Vice

President's Space Policy Advisory Board's Task Group on The Future of the U.S .

Space Launch Capability suggested canceling the National Launch System. Chaired

by former Air Force Secretary Edward C. Aldridge, the Aldridge Report proposed

instead a new program called "Spacelifter ." The Spacelifter would be developed

under Air Force leadership, using a single "core" vehicle to meet lift requirements

ofall three sectors of the space community-military, civilian, and commercial.

This seemed to reflect Air Force Space Command's interest in developing a family

ofvehicles leading to operational systems . 74

The Clinton administration's Bottom Up Review seemed to favor a return to

improved expendable launchers . Its analysis addressed the launch issue in terms of

several options. One would be to extend the existing fleet to the year 2030 ; a second

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vehicle ; and finally, "austere" variations of the first two alternatives. The Defense

Department decided on an austere approach, funding only required improvements

to existing launch and range infrastructure . In short, officials decided to proceed

with modest improvements to the status quo, which many considered an acceptable solution. In the mid-iggos, the space launch issue remained far from resolved."

In the aftermath of Operation Desert Storm, the Air Force played the central role in

evaluating the capabilities ofspace systems to meet the needs of the warfighter. Air

Force leaders realized that they must provide the necessary leadership if military

space were to benefit from infrastructure modernization and new technological

initiatives and, ultimately, achieve "normalization" of space within the Air Force

and throughout the military community. But the momentum for change represented by the performance of space assets in the GulfWar diminished considerably

when confronted by the challenges of developing a new generation of space systems

and an effective launch capability. Moreover, continued fragmentation of the

nation's space community in an era of budget austerity severely hampered efforts to

make the changes Air Force leaders deemed essential . The situation called for

strong, central direction, and the Air Force responded with another initiative, one

designed to chart the course of military space into the post-Cold War future ofthe

21st century.
CHAPTER 8

An Air Force Vision for the

Military Space Mission:

A Roadmap to the 21 st Century

n the aftermath ofDesert Storm Air Force leaders took significant steps to

establish the Air Force as the "lead" service for space. Their motivation stemmed

from multiple sources . It reflected the pride of having been the principal steward of military space capabilities for over thirty years. As important, the Air Force

space community recognized the crucial turning point represented by space accomplishments in the GulfWar and anxiously sought to apply the operational "lessons

learned ." Finally, Air Force leaders saw that in a post-Cold War world, Air Force

leadership in the space arena remained not only critical for the future of space

within the service, but essential to support the new demands of"global power

and global presence."

AGeneration of Leadership in Military Space Activities

In promoting its leadership role in military space for the Zest century, Air Force

leaders relied on the institutional memory and experience acquired over more than

a generation, dating back to the second Eisenhower administration . The Air Force

role in space proceeded along two broad levels : one involved a number of"campaigns" to convince national leaders that the imperative of national security

required assigning the Air Force sole responsibility for military space activities that

included development and deployment of weapons in outer space; the other

centered on continuation of the effort to institutionalize space within the Air Force

and throughout the armed forces by transferring responsibility for Air Force space
space within the Air Force would also buttress the service

s claim to be designated

executive agent for space and to lead the national military space program. Air Force

space pioneers never achieved the lofty goals they established for the service . Like

their aviation counterparts after World War I, ambitious Air Force space agendas

did not always receive sufficient support from within the service, or from national

leaders who remained opposed to an expanded military space program. Nevertheless, the Air Force achieved a remarkable record as the service preeminently

involved in initiating, developing, and applying the technology of space-based

systems in support of the nation's security.

The foundation for Air Force space leadership was established before the

Eisenhower era, at the close of the Second World War. At that time, the Army Air

Forces took two important steps to set the stage for an Air Force future in space.

With the publication of Toward NewHorizons in late 1945, Commanding General of

the Army Air Forces Henry H. "Hap" Arnold and his close friend and Chairman of

the Scientific Advisory Board Theodore von Karman provided the service a sound

research and development focus and an agenda for the future. Shortly thereafter, in

early 1946, the service-sponsored Rand Corporation issued its prescient report on

satellite feasibility, Preliminary Design of an Experimental World Circling Spaceship,

which predicted that an artificial Earth-observation satellite could be launched

within five years . Neither Toward New Horizons nor the Rand report produced a

rush to develop space capabilities in light of Cold War tensions during the late

1940s, tight budgets, and focus on the strategic bomber as the first line of national

defense . Even so, if the newly designated United States Air Force proved unwilling

to seriously pursue satellite development itself, it was determined to prevent the

other services from capturing what it termed the "space mission ."

The Air Force renewed its interest in satellites in the early 1950s, when technological progress affirmed the promise of long-range ballistic missiles carrying

thermonuclear devices, and the new Eisenhower administration took measures to

defend the nation from a surprise attack . Development of an American ICBM

represented one means of strengthening national defense; at the same time, development of a reconnaissance satellite, launched into orbit by rocket boosters, offered

the prospect of obtaining vital strategic intelligence data on the Soviet Union. In

1954, Rand's landmark Project Feed Back report affirmed the technical feasibility of

artificial satellites and recommended the Air Force develop an electro-optical

reconnaissance satellite to meet President Eisenhower's requirements .

The administration initially supported the missile and satellite efforts of all three

services . The Air Force redesigned and intensified its development of an earlier

Convair ICBM proposal, which it renamed Atlas and placed under the direction

ofthe hard-charging Brigadier General Bernard A. Schriever. By 1957 the crash

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in conjunction with Lockheed's Missile Systems Division, the military reconnaissance satellite project . The latter would lead to the Agena upper-stage booster,

the Defense Support Program's early warning infrared satellite, and the recon

naissance satellites managed as a national program by the National Reconnaissance Office .

At the same time, the Eisenhower administration established a "freedom of

space" policy that promoted unrestricted overflight to allow the free passage of

military reconnaissance satellites . This meant emphasizing civil spaceflight and

prohibiting the deployment of space-based weapons. Air Force leaders believed

otherwise . They preferred to guard against potential threats, and viewed the selflimiting "space for peaceful purposes" policy dangerous and self-defeating . Spacebased weapons would remain restricted to studies only. Consequently, Air Force

space efforts centered on what came to be called defense support functionsreconnaissance and surveillance, early warning, navigation, communications, and

meteorology. These activities, and the Eisenhower space policy that framed them,

would endure largely unaltered for the next 30 years.

The launch of the Sputnik satellites in late 1957 intensified an already heated

contest for leadership of the national space program among the Army, Navy, and

Air Force. Air Force leaders coined the term "aerospace" to justify their claims, first

to lead the national space effort and, when that failed, to be designated the executive agent for all of military space. The Air Force confronted a host of competitors

in its bid for space primacy. The creation of NASA in 1958 proved a mixed blessing

for the Air Force. On the one hand, NASA acquired its most important space assets

from the Army and Navy which, by 196o, left the Air Force the dominant military

space service and NASA dependent on the Air Force for support . On the other hand,

NASA now would chart the nation's civil spaceflight future and compete for space

funding . Moreover, in the military sphere, the Air Force found itself subordinated

to the Pentagon's Advanced Research Projects Agency and, later, to the Director of

Defense Research and Engineering . A new competitor appeared in 196o when the

administration created the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) to manage

Project CORONA, the sensitive reconnaissance satellite program. Although directed

by the Under Secretary of the Air Force, this Central Intelligence Agency-Air Force

program would remain outside the control ofAir Force headquarters. Finally, for

defense support missions, the Air Force often had to share responsibilities with

other services and agencies .

By the end of the Eisenhower presidency, the Air Force clearly had not achieved

the "independent" leadership position claimed by its most ardent spokesmen . Even

so, it could point to an impressive list of achievements that included providing the

bulk of space booster and infrastructure support and managing the early warning

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for military space activities . Responsible for nearly 8o percent of the military space

budget, it clearly found itself the leading service for military space.

In the spring of 1961, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara designated the

Air Force the military service for space research and development . As part of the

arrangement, the Air Force reorganized to create a more centralized focus for space

by establishing Air Force Systems Command with General Schriever as its first commander. The previous year the Air Force had created the nonprofit Aerospace

Corporation to provide needed technical expertise . The beginning of the Kennedy

administration was a period of high expectations for Air Force space leaders, who

believed they had a "green light" to promote an expanded military space program

and gain recognition as "executive agent for military space." The Air Force agenda

included making permanent NASA's early dependence on the service. As executive

agent for NASA support, the Air Force sought an equal partnership with NASA in the

decade ahead. The service also attempted to convince Defense Department officials

that the military had a legitimate requirement for a manned space mission apart

from NASA's program. Manned spaceflight was also seen as the best means of

generating support for space within the Air Force. Finally, despite established

national space policy, the Air Force strongly lobbied for permission to develop

space-based antisatellite weapons.

Well before the end of the decade, the Air Force campaign had failed all across

the board. NASA basked in the glow of the unprecedented Project Apollo moon

landing . Meanwhile, Air Force efforts to make military manned spaceflight the focal

point of a space-oriented service ended when President Nixon in 1969 canceled its

remaining human spaceflight project, the Manned Orbiting Laboratory. The Air

Force could never convince the Defense Department that the military had a

legitimate requirement for a man-in-space "mission ." Likewise, Air Force attempts

to move space-based weapons projects beyond the drawing board proved fruitless .

Air Force pretensions to lead an expanded space program received further setbacks

under the Defense Department's policy of tri-service management and military-civil

cooperative efforts designed to reduce costs and service bickering . With the larger

Air Force space agenda unrealized, the service's research and development organizations, by default, assumed operational responsibility for space programs and

systems. This set the stage for the future contest between R&D and operational

elements for control of Air Force space. Meanwhile, by the end of the 196os, Air

Force leaders downplayed space issues and spoke instead of taking care of traditional Air Force aviation needs.

At this juncture, two developments reinvigorated the Air Force space program.

One proved to be the rapid growth of unmanned, instrumented spacecraft and their

potential importance for military operations. Communications (DSCS) and weather

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readied for development the nation's first three-dimensional satellite navigation

system (GPS). The National Reconnaissance Office also prepared to launch the

successors to Project CORONA reconnaissance satellites . Artificial earth satellites

were coming of age.

The other important development was the advent of the Space Shuttle, the NASADefense Department project for a reusable launch vehicle that NASA predicted

would provide more inexpensive and more frequent access to space. Under pressure

to use the Shuttle in place of expendable boosters, the Air Force agreed to assist with

development costs, produce an upper-stage vehicle, and construct a West Coast

launch facility. In return, NASA accepted an enlarged cargo bay to accommodate

military satellite requirements and resolved to give Defense Department missions

operational priority. Air Force space enthusiasts could also argue that involvement

with the Shuttle preserved a military manned spaceflight mission .

The coming of the Shuttle and artificial satellites compelled Air Force leaders in

the 1970s to seriously address organizational issues . Because satellites increasingly

provided operational support to a variety of users, the practice of assigning operational responsibility to one particular Air Force command seemed inappropriate .

Likewise, by the mid- 1970s four Air Force commands promoted themselves as best

qualified to manage Shuttle operations. The potential operational impact ofspace

systems prompted Air Force leaders to assess the importance of space for operational commanders and the service's institutional commitment to a space future.

The growing debate focused on whether the research and development community

should continue to launch and control space systems or relinquish those responsibilities to the operational side of the Air Force. If the latter, should the Air Force

create a new, major command for space operations? The decade of the 1970s

witnessed a plethora of studies, conferences, and symposia that helped to build

consensus for an operational space focus within the Air Force. At the same time, the

contributions of the space systems themselves showed that they had moved beyond

the experimental stage and could no longer be confined to the research and development realm. By the early i98os, the Reagan administration's interest in an

expanded defense space program provided important momentum for organizational changes already underway within the Air Force. By late summer 1982 the Air

Force had an operational Space Command-for the price of a unified space

command to follow three years later.

During the 198os, Air Force Space Command needed to acquire systems, gain the

necessary experience, and convince the wider Air Force of the operational importance of space for traditional missions. Becoming operational proved to be a long

and difficult process . Not until 1993, for example, did the research and development

community relinquish complete responsibility for satellite control and space launch.

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Challenger tragedy. The latter precipitated not only a return to expendable boosters

but, also, a reexamination of the Air Force commitment to space. By the end ofthe

198os, Air Force leaders referred to the responsibility of the Air Force as the "lead

service for military space" to "normalize" and "operationalize" space within and

outside the Air Force-in short, to institutionalize space to the point where space

systems furnished support essential to the warfighter.

Desert Storm provided the needed catalyst in the "operationalization" of military

space systems . In the Persian Gulf conflict, space systems that had traditionally performed a strategic function proved sufficiently flexible in a tactical environment to

provide critical support to the warfighters. Space systems helped achieve victory,

which served as the springboard for Air Force leaders to assert their vision for the

nation's space program and the Air Force's leadership role in achieving it .

An Air Force Vision for Another Generation of Space Leadership

In order to chart the course for the Air Force space program into the next century,

Chief of Staff General Merrill McPeak in the fall of 1992 established another Blue

Ribbon Panel on space. Led by Lieutenant General Thomas S. Moorman, Jr., vice

commander of Air Force Space Command, it included nearly 30 officers and

civilians from Air Force headquarters and the major commands. Like the Blue

Ribbon Panel of four years earlier, the Moorman Panel addressed space roles and

missions issues that affected the Air Force internally. But the new panel, in the

aftermath of space contributions to Desert Shield and Desert Storm, expanded its

analysis to emphasize the role of the Air Force in the wider military and national

arena. Meeting at Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama, from early September to early

November, the panel reviewed existing Air Force space policy, organization and

infrastructure, charted the service's future role in space, developed a strategy to

achieve that objective, and outlined an action plan for Air Force leaders to follow.

The Moorman Panel issued its report in early January 1993 during the closing days

of the Bush administration .'

The panel envisioned the future Air Force as a thoroughly integrated air and

space force that reflected General McPeak's unprecedented mission statement of

June 1992, which declared air and space coequal. Moreover, in the world ofthe next

century, the Air Force would be the linchpin in the nation's strategy of projecting

military power rapidly and decisively with expeditionary forces . Space would provide the "global eyes and ears" that would ensure "global reach and global power."

In short, space represented the decisive edge for the warfighter. General McPeak's

mission statement also flatly asserted that "the Air Force will lead the Defense Department in the acquisition, operation and application of space capabilities to

preserve the peace and win in war." The Moorman Panel focused on these three

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space systems, of making operational requirements the driving force in the acquisition process, and of ensuring U.S . space superiority through innovative, sophisticated technological solutions. Operational objectives included establishing space

control capabilities equivalent to the air superiority mission, providing responsive

space launch and on-orbit control, and leading the armed forces in providing "an

integrated aerospace control system-air, missile, and space defense-for combatant commanders." Finally, for space applications, the panel examined how the Air

Force could become the "preeminent service for the exploitation of space capabilities" and produce a "space applications mindset" throughout the Air Force.'

The Moorman Panel also incorporated the results ofa number of space studies

that emerged in late 1992 during the closing months of the Bush administration.

Three task group reports of the National Space Council addressed America's future

in space: "The Future of the U.S. Space Launch Capability," by Edward C. Aldridge,

Jr., (November 1992); "The Future of the U.S. Space Industrial Base," by Daniel J.

Fink (November 1992) ; and "A Post Cold War Assessment of U.S . Space Policy," by

Laurel Wilkening (December 1992). The Aldridge report, as noted above, called for

replacement of the National Launch System with the "Spacelifter" Following

publication of the report, Congress directed cancellation of the National Launch

System. Senior leaders of the Air Force responded by agreeing among themselves

that the Air Force would lead the national effort to develop a responsive launch

system . In early 1994 they directed a comprehensive "Space Launch Modernization

Study" by a distinguished committee of forty experts from all space sectors and

chaired by General Moorman. The Moorman Committee was charged with

developing an extensive requirements data base, synthesizing the needs of space

launch for the commercial, civil, and national security sectors, then compiling

options and "roadmaps." It promised to be the most credible effort to date to solve

the launch problem.'

The Blue Ribbon Panel also took into account the Fink report, which stressed the

importance of coordinated Defense Department-NASA measures to achieve more

efficient procurement and lower operating costs while maintaining vital space technologies and facilities within a reduced space industrial base. The Wilkening report

advocated more centralization and efficiency across the military and civilian space

sectors, as well as increased cooperation among civil, military and commercial space

elements to better confront international space competition. Finally, the panel

remained well aware of the February 1993 Triennial Report to Congress on Service

Roles, Missions and Functions by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The

controversial report proposed to eliminate U.S . Space Command and make U.S .

Strategic Command responsible for the space mission . Doing so would likely mean

the end of the Army and Navy space commands. In the final report, the panel

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pg 

In its critique of the acquisition area, the panel found widespread "fragmentation

and duplication of effort" that resulted in expensive, inefficient, "stove-piped" systems, whereby each agency pursued its own agenda without attempting to support

multiple requirements and systems . In a world of declining space budgets, the

Defense Department and the Air Force no longer could afford costly duplication

and many one-of-a-kind satellite systems . Moreover, operational users continued to

lack sufficient voice in the requirements process, which stemmed in large part from

ignorance of space capabilities . On one level, the panel called for a "summit" process to spread space knowledge throughout the Air Force. On another, more visible

level, it called on the Air Force to "seek designation as the single manager for DoD

space acquisition ." Although the other services would participate, the Air Force

would become the focal point for acquisition.'

In the operational area, the panel declared that the "Air Force should be designated as the single manager for DoD space operations." Taking its lead from the

January 1993 Joint Chiefs of Staff study on roles and missions, the panel called for an

end to the Army and Navy space commands. After all, it argued, the Air Force

performed 9o percent ofDefense Department space operations, and eliminating the

other services's space commands would encouage an end to "stove-piping" and

duplication . The panel also recommended development of a new launch capability

to replace the unresponsive Eisenhower-era fleet of expendable boosters, production ofa space-based antisatellite system to counter the growing space capabilities

among potential enemies, and a commitment to producing an effective ballistic

missile defense . Finally, the panel called on the Air Force to enhance space support

through improved arrangements with allies and commercial space companies, as

well as providing the doctrine and capabilities to win the emerging space "information war."'

In the third area, applications, the panel found the Air Force woefully behind the

Navy and Army in integrating and applying space capabilities on the battlefield . It

cited the examples that only five percent of the service's aircraft had Global Positioning System receivers installed, and that little Air Force commitment existed to

programs such as Tactical Exploitation of National Capabilities (TENCAP) . To right

the situation, the panel recommended establishment of a Space Warfare Center

devoted to developing new applications for space systems and to educating and

training operators on space capabilities and tactical applications. In fact, Air Force

Space Command already had begun planning for a Space Warfare Center, which it

hoped could attract other service operations personnel as well. Furthermore, the

Moorman Panel believed that theater arrangements should find the Air Force

component commander formally designated as the focal point for space support.

The Air Force also should reexamine all training, education, and personnel policies

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The panel also advocated establishing a stronger operational space presence at

Air Force headquarters-and throughout the Air Force-one that could provide an

operational imperative in place of the budget-and-policy focus that traditionally

dominated decisions on space issues . The July 1993 activation of Headquarters

Fourteenth Air Force at Vandenberg Air Force Base, California, to manage the

nation's military space assets, was one response to this recommendation. The new

headquarters became the operational focus under Air Force Space Command with

responsibility for "providing ballistic missile warning, space control, space lift, and

satellite command and control:"' Finally, the Moorman report addressed the

sensitive issue of the "national" reconnaissance space community's role . Because

requirements for national systems were identified in intelligence councils outside

the normal defense process, it said, defense needs had to conform to intelligence

requirements . It recommended the creation of a more formal system to ensure

adequate consideration of service needs in the design of national systems.'

The panel concluded by observing that in a world of declining resources, improving support to the warfighter would demand major changes in space acquisition,

operations, and application. The Air Force, it declared, found itself "uniquely positioned" to ensure the achievement of these goals. "The Air Force's ability to provide

Global Reach and Global Power for America allows us to be the leading edge of

military force ."

By the spring of 1993, General McPeak had endorsed the Blue Ribbon Panel's

findings, had designated various Air Force organizations responsible for implementing the panel's recommendations, and had prepared an implementation plan for Air

Force Secretary Sheila Widnall's review. The Blue Ribbon Panel set the stage for a

major Air Force effort to maintain its leadership of military space. If this theme

seemed overly familiar, Air Force leaders believed that the post-Cold War reality of

readiness and power projection amid budget austerity provided an unprecedented

opportunity for Air Force action.

The reinvigorated Air Force's assertion of leadership took several forms. One

involved proposing to Defense Department officials and congressional members the

designatation of the Air Force as the executive agent for space research and development and for acquisition. By the summer of 1994, reports indicated that Deputy

Defense Secretary John Deutch had agreed to support the Air Force plan and to

argue the case before House and Senate conferees who were preparing to negotiate

the fiscal year 1995 defense appropriations bill . At the same time, it became clear

that Air Force assertiveness had raised old fears of an Air Force space "takeover."

Army and Navy leaders could hardly be expected to stand idly by after the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had recommended the elimination of their space

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take center stage once again."

The Air Force proposal drew opposition beyond Army and Navy circles . A

General Accounting Office report in the summer of 1994 criticized previous Air

Force attempts to become the Defense Department's executive agent for space. The

GAO recommended that military space acquisition decisions be centralized within

the Office of the Secretary of Defense rather than consolidated under Air Force

direction. A House Appropriations Committee report in August noted that "the Air

Force dominates the military space budget, yet generates little of the requirement.

Nevertheless, its space budget competes with other service-specific Air Force

requirements such as aircraft and missiles ." The House report questioned the Air

Force's ability to handle the varied space needs of the military space community."

Air Force leaders like Chief of Staff General Merrill A. McPeak and Air Force

Secretary Sheila E. Widnall sought by means of policy statements and public addresses to allay fears, overcome skepticism, and generate support both within and

outside the service . In a speech before the "Spacetalk 94" conference on 16 September 1994, General McPeak squarely faced the controversial issue. Referring to the

crucial role of space in the GulfWar, he noted that all the services now worked to

make space important to warfighters by ensuring that their requirements for space

support were met. Unfortunately, he said, this legitimate concern had become

embroiled in the "current Washington debate over the proper allocation of roles

and missions among the services ." He referred to one headline that asserted the

"USAF Aggressively Guns for Roles" and was seeking to completely remove the other

services from space operations."

The chief of staff sought to "set the record straight ." The Air Force, indeed,

should be the lead service for space, he reasoned, because this would be good for

the Defense Department and the taxpayer. In an era of steadily declining defense

budgets, the military was especially challenged to realize the great potential of space.

Cutting costs by reducing overhead and "streamlining" organizations represented

one solution . He cited the restructured post-Cold War Air Force as an example of

successful adjustment to the new realities . In fact, two days earlier, the chief of staff

had given a major address on "reinventing the Air Force" at the Air Force Association Convention in Washington, D.C ."

General McPeak proposed a similar consolidated, streamlined approach to the

development and acquisition of military space systems . He restated the argument

made by the Blue Ribbon Panel that fragmentation in the requirements process too

often resulted in one-of-a-kind satellites that drove up costs and produced excessive

delays in the space launch schedule. Austere times demanded better management.

The Defense Department, he noted, had asked the Air Force to examine ways to

improve the development and acquisition process . This made good sense. The Air

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infrastructure . He assured his audience that the Air Force proposal was not an

attempt to usurp the responsibility of the other services to establish their own space

requirements . All requirements would be evaluated by the Joint Requirements

Oversight Council, comprised of the service vice chiefs of staff and by a Joint Space

Management Board directed by senior officials from the Defense Department and

intelligence community. This process would ensure "jointness" and, for the first

time, effectively integrate intelligence requirements into the larger military space

arena. Hence, the Air Force would not determine the space requirements of others;

it would act only as the Defense Department's executive agent with responsibility

for developing and acquiring space systems . The Air Force proposal would help

lower costs by promoting commonality and standardization and serve to end the

barrier between classified and unclassified programs. "If the Air Force becomes the

lead service for space development and acquisition," the general asserted, "the other

services will come to trust us to meet their requirements in space.""

Secretary Widnall also took up the theme of Air Force leadership and tried to

alleviate the concerns of critics . Referring to the current roles and missions debate

in an October 1994 policy letter, she declared that the chief of staff had been

misunderstood when he remarkd that "the Army works on the land, the Navy at sea,

and the Air Force in the air, and the Air Force accomplishes the majority of space

activities ." She flatly stated : "let me state clearly that we are not trying to make the

Air Force stronger at the expense of the other services ." It simply made good sense

financially and organizationally to make the service with the largest space role and

the most experience responsible for managing the acquisition of space systems .

Consequently, the Air Force had proposed that the Secretary of the Air Force be

designated the executive agent for space."

Air Force leaders relied on more than official statements and speeches to spread

the word on Air Force space leadership. In the spring of 1993, after the Blue Ribbon

Panel had completed its deliberations, General McPeak initiated a comprehensive

evaluation ofspace capabilities and "high-leverage" space technologies for the year

202o and beyond . SPACECAST 2o2o appeared in the spring of 1994, following a year

of analysis by scientists, industrialists, and members of all service space commands

under the auspices ofAir University. In the tradition of Theodore von Karman's

Toward New Horizons and subsequent studies, SPACECAST2020 produced eighteen

white papers that assessed emerging technologies and described creative space

applications that would support the security of the country in the next century.

Particularly interesting was the closing address delivered by retired Air Force

General Michael P. C. Carns on 1o November 1994 to the National Security Industrial Association, which had provided the forum for the first major SPACECAST 2020

briefing to industry."

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lance and warning communities . This prevented widespread appreciation for the

opportunities space offered military forces . Only Desert Storm, he asserted, had

finally opened the door for the warfighter. But the "operationalization" of space

would not occur on its own, because the domain ofthe specialist continued to

promote a testing mindset in the Air Force. After all, despite Air Force Space

Command's assumption of the operational space launch mission, "space operations

are in the hands of the research, development, test, and evaluation . . . communities ."

In Carn's opinion, this had to end. At the same time, he argued, the military should

encourage the commercial sector to perform all specialized tasks that did not

require particular military involvement. He, too, favored standardization and

commonality among the military, civil, and commercial space sectors to promote

increased efficiency at lower costs . Above all, General Carns focused on the importance of space operations for the Air Force. He agreed that SPACECAST 2o2o

represented a good effort to link space technology, capability, and military operations. Now the Air Force needed to assume the "operational sponsorship ofspace, a

formal commitment . . . mainstreaming space with all ofits aspects into the line Air

Force." In short, Air Force leaders would need to institutionalize space operations

within the Air Force and the wider military community."

Complementing SPACECAST 2o2o was another important study ofAir Force space

challenges for the future. At the behest of Secretary of the Air Force Widnall and

new Chief of Staff General Ronald R. Fogleman, the Scientific Advisory Board

convened a group of experts to address the technological requirements and capabilities facing the Air Force into the 21st century. Titling its study New World Vistas, the

board pointedly linked its study to its predecessor, Toward New Horizons, produced

by Theodore von Karman 50 years earlier. Board chairman Gene H. McCall also

noted that his team ofspecialists worked closely with the SPACECAST202o panel and

the Rand Corporation, as well as the Air Force Academy and Air University, in

preparing the 15-volume study that appeared late in 1995'8

New World Vistas focused on integrated, capability-based technology requirements for long-range planning-more specifically for the next 30 years into the new

century. The objective was to apply new technologies to produce affordable capabilities . The board asserted that the emphasis of Air Force technology needed to

change given the absence of a known "enemy," the reality of high costs, and the

military applicability of commercial technologies . In its assessment of space operations, the board recommended the use ofdistributed satellite constellations relying

on single or dual-purpose satellites . With technologies improving significantly at

close to a two-year cycle, the study argued that "time from design to launch should

be reduced substantially. A goal of two years is reasonable." Commercial vehicles

should be used to launch most military satellites, which could be made compatible

28 1
communications systems like Milstar and to examine different ways to protect

satellite systems in the future. The study proceeded to describe a number of specific

technical and procedural measures that would result in cheaper, equally effective

satellites and a more responsive launch capability that eliminated the current "cast

ofthousands" approach to management and operations. Throughout their analysis,

the authors emphasized taking advantage of new technologies and the proficiency of

the commercial sector. New World Vistas declared that unless the Air Force asserted

itself to perform its unique mission for the nation, there perhaps should not be a

separate air force in the next century. Although the service should expect opposition

from the Army and Navy, the Air Force should plan immediately for all air and

space activities . New World Vistas, the authors argued, would help provide the longrange technology and capability-linked plans to support a clear vision for the Air

Force into the 21st century."

An equally forthright call for action appeared in early 1995 in the report prepared

by the Air Force Association Advisory Group on Military Roles and Missions. That

report attacked the fragmentation, absence of leadership, and divided authority that

continued to characterize the nation's space community. Space launch represented

the most serious example. After many years and millions of dollars, the lack of

consensus on requirements had produced little more than a string of"program

corpses"-the Advanced Launch System, the National Launch System, and, most

recently, Spacelifter. Similar difficulties had led to elimination of FEWS and, now,

threatened the Milstar program. Echoing General McPeak and other Air Force

leaders, the report warned that the country would lose its technological advantage

and fail to achieve operational space capabilities in the future if it did not confront

the organizational dilemma. Large space budgets would not solve the problem;

reorganization would."

In order to eliminate duplication, reduce costs, and achieve the great advantages

offered by space, the Advisory Group stated, defense leaders needed to turn to the

service with the space expertise, capability, and commitment-the only service that

included space in its mission statement and operated throughout the full spectrum

of space functions . The Air Force should be responsible for research, development,

and acquisition ofspace systems to meet the requirements of all the services . Such

restructuring would not represent an Air Force power play but, rather, the most

logical solution to an intractable problem. To be effective, however, the Air Force

needed to end the perception that the space system requirements of operational

commanders-in-chief and the other services could not compete successfully against

Air Force demands for new aircraft . One way ofminimizing the problem would be

to have a more equitable distribution of space costs . While the space portion of the

Air Force budget supported all the services as well as the joint forces, the Defense

282
y 

community. Above all, the report declared that space needed to finally become

institutionalized in the Air Force, and that the Air Force demonstrate "an unequivocal commitment to exploiting space for all forces .""

Would the Air Force's quest for military space leadership prove unequivocally

successful? At mid-decade, success seemed doubtful in light of initially strong

opposition from Navy and Army leaders. Furthermore, the Defense Department

had centered space acquisition in a new Space Architect office within the Pentagon .

Many roadblocks from earlier years continued to obstruct the Air Force's progress.

Fragmentation and lack of consensus, the very problems identified by Air Force

critics, worked against the service's efforts . Responsible for preventing more unified,

centralized approaches to space management, a fragmented space community

contributed to interservice rivalry over roles and missions and to traditional

bureaucratic turf battles .

On the other hand, the world of the 19gos presented a landscape that had been

significantly altered . For one thing, cooperative efforts had now become more

acceptable to all . Multiuser programs and systems increasingly reflected interest in

promoting commonality and "convergence" to end duplication and cut costs . Although few would doubt the continued need for dedicated military space systems

like DSCS and DMSP, Air Force leaders had joined the chorus to extol the virtues of

cooperative ventures among the military, civil, and commercial sectors . Desert

Storm had made them believers, and shrinking budgets for space would continue

to foster cooperative efforts .

But what about space launch, the most fundamental element of the space program and the one that stubbornly defied efforts to create a responsive, cost-effective

means to reach space? Placing responsibility in the hands ofAir Force Space

Command had begun the process ofmaking space launch "operational," but much

work remained . At mid-decade Air Force leaders looked to the Moorman study on

space launch to chart the proper course for the nation . Although space launch

represented a national concern, the Air Force provided the leadership to solve the

problem. The Achilles heel ofthe space program might well reinforce the Air Force's

argument for space leadership.

Above all, the new world of the 19gos reflected the end ofthe Cold War and the

impact of Desert Storm. Superpower rivalry had given way to regional conflict . The

United States needed to be ready to field lean, mobile, highly-trained expeditionary

forces capable of decisive action in theater-level contingency operations. This first

modern war in which space systems played a vital role confirmed the shift to tactical

warfighting, and space systems had shown their ability to apply strategic assets to

tactical contingencies . In "reinventing" the Air Force, General McPeak had made

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The altered conditions of the 199os offered the Air Force a golden opportunity

to display its space leadership-in the name ofgreater operational efficiency and

the national interest . The postwar Air Force initiative reflected important institutional thinking about space requirements for the post-Cold War era. It also revealed

Air Force thinking about the technical and political means necessary to implement

this vision. Air Force reviews represented an impressive, comprehensive internal

look at the state of military space, future needs, and integration issues . Unfortunately, the weakness of the effort came from attempting to convert ideas into a

roadmap for the whole Defense Department without a full, public review of military

space. Alternative proposals focused on Defense Department management and

encompassed plans for better integration of "black" and "white" space communities, as well as the evolving "jointness" of military space.

Air Force success in the larger arena, however, had to begin from within . From

his vantage point as commander-in-chief of U.S . Space Command, General Charles

A. Horner noted that when he assumed command of United States air forces during

Desert Storm, "most of us over there were ignorant ofthe contributions of space

assets." A major command-post exercise shortly before the conflict did not integrate

space forces into the operation ." Although Horner quickly realized the importance

of space contributions, his experience suggests the central dilemma facing Air Force

space leaders at the dawn of the new century. Much ofthe Air Force continued to

view space as more the province of the technocrats, as something beyond the realm

of aviators . To be sure, much had been accomplished over the past decade to

"operationalize" space in the Air Force. But much remained to be done before space

would become a thoroughly integrated element of all Air Force operations and

before air and space would become equal in fact as well as name. Above all, Air

Force leaders needed to demonstrate greater commitment to space within the

service and institutionalize space as a fundamental element of the Air Force's future.

Only by establishing the foundation for space within the service could the Air Force

demonstrate its commitment to support the warfighter and maintain its space

leadership. As the Air Force approached its 5oth anniversary as an independent

service, it could look back on a half century ofleadership in meeting the challenges

of military space. Its space vision aimed to perpetuate that leadership and successfully meet the military space challenges of the new century.

284
APPENDIX 2-1

Proposed Air Force Astronautics Program,

24 January 1958'

I . 6o9, Ballistic Test and Related Systems

i . BRATS, Space Research and Experiments

2. Aerial Survey and Target Locating System (Recon)

II . 447, Manned Hypersonic Research System

3. X-15, Space Research and Experiment

4. Advanced Hypersonic Research Aircraft

(Manned Space Flight, Space R&D)

III . 464, Dyna-Soar

5. Manned Capsule Test (Manned Space Flight)

6 . Conceptual Test (Manned Space Flight)

7. Boost Glide Tactical (Weapon Delivery)

8. Boost Glide Interceptor (Countermeasure)

9. Satellite Interceptor (Countermeasure)

lo. Global Reconnaissance

ii . Global Bomber (Weapon Delivery)

IV. WS-n7L Satellite System

12 . Advanced Reconnaissance Satellite

13 . Recoverable Data (Photo Capsule) (Recon)

14. 24-hour Reconnaissance System

15 . Manned Strategic Station (Weapon Development and Recon)

16 . Strategic Communications Station (Data Transmission)

V. 499, Lunar Base System

17. Manned Variable Trajectory and Test Vehicle (Recon and Experiment)

18 . Nuclear Rocket Test (Space Recon and Experiment)

i9 . Ion Propulsion Test (Space Recon and Experiment)

20 . Lunar Transport (Manned Space Flight, Recon and Experiment)

21 . Manned Lunar Base (Weapon Development and Recon)

*

Source: Lee Bowen, The Threshold ofSpace: TheAir Force in the National Space Program,

1945 -1959 (Washington, D.C. : USAF Historical Division Liaison Office, September 196o), p. 23 .

285
Services*

Projects Transferred to ARPA:

i . Argus (nuclear explosion in exosphere) 4 April 1958

2. Satellite and Outer Space Programs including Vanguard 1 May 1958

3. High Performance Solid Propellants 7 June 1958

4. Minitrack Doppler Fence 20 June 1958

5 . Army and Air Force Ballistic Missile Defense Projects 20 June 1958

6 . Studies of the Effects of Space Weapons Employment on

Military Electronic Systems 20 June 1958

7. Nuclear Bomb-Propelled Space Vehicle 20 June 1958

8 . WS-117L 30 June 1958

Projects Redistributed byARPA:

1. Sounding Rockets and Ground Instrumentation for Argus AFSWC/AFCRC

2. Weapon System to Control Hostile Satellites ARDC

3 . Nuclear Bomb-Propelled Space Vehicle ARDC

4. Effects of Space Weapons on Military Electronic Systems ARDC

5 . WS-117L ARDC

6. Lunar Probes AFBMD

7. High Energy Propellants and Liquid hydrogen-Liquid Oxygen

Propellants ARDC

8 . Reentry Studies ARDC

9 . Project Score ARDC

10 . 1,500,ooo-pound booster AOMC

u. Meteorological Satellite AOMC

12 . Inflatable Sphere AOMC

Source: Lee Bowen, The Threshold ofSpace: TheAir Force in the National Space Program,

1945-1959 (Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison Office, September 196o),

pp. 26-27.

286
Program III.

i . Man in Space

2. Special Engines

3. Special Components for Space Systems

4. Project Argus

5. Satellite Tracking and Monitoring Systems

6. Satellite Communications Relay, Meteorological Reporting, Navigational Aid

Systems

Program IV:

i . ABMA/1PL Program for Four Scientific Space Vehicles to be Launched in 1958

2. AFBMD Program for Three Lunar Probes

3 . NOTS Program, a one-frame television with a mechanical scanner to get "a first

look at the other side ofthe moon"

4. Follow-on Program, vaguely defined as "more of the same"

Source: Lee Bowen, The Threshold of Space: The Air Force in the National Space Program,

1945 -1959 (Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison Office, September 196o), p. 29

287
Spring 1959 **

i . Military Reconnaissance Satellites Utilizing Optical, Infra-red and

Electromagnetic Instrumentation*

2 . Satellites for Weather Observation*

3. Military Communications Satellites*

4. Satellites for Electronic Counter- measures*

5 . Satellites as Aids for Navigation*

6. Manned Maintenance and Resupply Outer Space Vehicles*

7 . Manned Defensive Outer Space Vehicles*

Bombardment Satellites*

8 . Manned Lunar Station*

9. Satellite Defense System

io . Manned Detection, Warning and Reconnaissance Space Vehicle

ii . Manned Bombardment Space Vehicle or Space Base

12 . Target Drone Satellite

* indicates those missions listed in NSC 5814/1, "Preliminary U.S . Policy on Outer Space,"

18 August 1958 .

** Source: Memorandum, AFDAT, subj : Background Information on Current Air Force

Position in Space, n.d . [March 19591.

288
Functions Projects

Satellite inspector

ROBO/Dyna-Soar (X-2o)

Radar tracking of earth satellites

Observation ofthe Earth Other automated satellites

Navigation Transit satellite system; assigned to the Navy on 9

May 196o

Meteorology TIROS television (RCA) satellite system assigned

to NASA; military system proposed, but held to

studies while negotiations for a single civil

military system were underway with NASA and

the Department of Commerce (Weather Bureau)

Communication Courier Active (repeater) strategic and tactical

communications satellite system; assigned to the

Army on 15 September 196o

Missile Detection and Space Infrared radiometers that detect focused heat

Defense sources (Missile Detection and Alarm-MIDAS)

Optical tracking of satellites (from IGY BakerNunn system)

Distant Early Warning (DEW) radar net and, by

the early 196os, the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System (BMEWS) radar net

Source: R. Cargill Hall, "The Origins of U.S . Space Policy: Eisenhower, Open Skies, and

Freedom of Space," Colloquy (December 1993) : 23 .

289
Program FY 61 FY 62

(proposed)

Source : U.S . House, Committee on Government Operations, Government Operations in

Space (Analysis ofCivil-Military Roles and Relationships), House Report No. 445, 89th

Congress, lst Session, 4 June 1965, p. 65 .

290

Samos, MIDAS, Discoverer $461.2 $541.2

Transit 21 .6 22.4

Notus (later Advent) 42.0 72.0

Saint 6.1 26.o

Spacetrack and Spasur 11 .6 38.3

Blue Scout 5 .6 15 .0

Westford 3 .6 4.3

X-15 14.9 7.0

Dyna-Soar 58.o 1o6 .5

Component development, applied research, other 127.1 169 .7

Large solid booster 62.0

Titan launch vehicle 15 .0

Total $751.7 $1,079.4
Historical Budget Summary-Budget Authority (in millions of dollars)

Notes: a Excludes amounts for air transportation ; b. T.Q =Transitional Quarter

Source: Aeronautics and Space Report ofthe President: 1982 Activities (Washington, D.C . :

NASA, 1983), p. 96, with updated figures from OMB and DoD, included in Paul B. Stares, The

Militarization ofSpace: U.S . Policy, 1945-1984 (lthica : Cornell University Press, 1985), p. 255 .

291

NASA Defense Energy Commerce Interior Agriculture NSF Total

Fiscal % Total % Total Space

Year Spacea Space Space Space

1959 260.9 33 .2 4895 62 .3 343 784.7

1960 461 .5 433 560.9 52.6 43 .5 0 .1 1065.8

1961 926.0 51 .2 813 .9 45 .0 67.7 o.6 1808 .2

1962 1796 .8 54 .5 1298 .2 39.4 147.8 50.7 1 .3 32945

1963 3626 .0 66.7 1549 .9 28.5 213 .9 43 .2 1 .5 5434.5

1964 5016 .3 73 .4 15993 23 .4 210 .0 2.8 3 .o 6831 .4

1965 5137.6 73 .8 1573 .9 22 .6 228 .6 12 .2 3.2 69555

1966 5064.5 72 .6 1688 .8 24 .2 186.8 26 .5 3.2 6969.8

1967 4830.2 71 .9 1663 .6 24.7 183 .6 29 .3 2.8 6709.5

1968 4430 "0 67.7 1921.8 30.3 145.1 28 .1 0 .2 0.5 3.2 6528 .9

1969 3822.0 63 .9 2013 .0 33 .6 118 .0 20 .0 0 .2 0.7 1 .9 59758

1970 3547"0 66.4 1678 .4 31 .4 102.8 8 .o 1 .1 o.8 2.4 5340.5

1971 3101.3 65 .4 1512 .5 31 .8 94.8 27 .4 1 .9 0.8 2.4 4740.9

1972 3071.0 67.1 1407 .0 30 .7 55 .2 31.3 5 .8 1 .6 2.8 4574.7

1973 3093 .2 64.1 1623 .0 33 .6 54 .2 39 .7 10 .3 1.9 2.6 4824.9

1974 2758 .5 59 .4 1766 .0 38 .0 41 .7 60.2 9.0 3 .1 1.8 4640.3

1975 2915 .3 59 .3 1892.4 38 .5 29.6 64.4 83 2 .3 2 .0 49143

1976 3225 .4 60.6 1983 .3 37.2 23 .3 71.5 10 .4 3 .6 2.4 5319 .9

T.Qb 849 .2 63 .3 460.4 34.3 4.6 22 .2 2 .6 o .9 o .6 1340 .5

1977 3440.2 57 .5 2411 .9 40.3 21 .7 90.8 9.5 6 .3 2.4 5982 .8

1978 3622 .9 55 .6 2728.8 43 .2 34.4 102 .8 9.7 7 .7 2.4 6508 .7

1979 4030.4 543 32113 43 .2 58 .6 98.4 9.9 8.2 2.4 7419 .2

1980 4680.4 53 .8 3848 .4 44.2 59 .6 92.6 11 .7 13 .7 2 .4 8688.8

1981 4992.4 50.0 4827.7 48 .0 40.5 87 .0 12.3 15 .5 2 .4 99778

1982 5527.6 44.0 6678.7 54.0 60.6 144.5 12 .1 15 .2 2 .0 12440 .7

1983 6327.9 41.0 8490.9 54 .0 38 .9 177.8 4.6 20 .4 15588 .5

1984 (est) 6590 .4 38 .0 10590 .3 61 .0 34 .1 234.8 4 .7 23.0 174773
Source : Paul B. Stares, The Militarization of Space: U.S . Policy, 1945-1984 (Ithica, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985), pp. 256

Flight 58.0 100 .0 131.8 89 .7 47.0 151.4 237.1 431.0 515.0 121.8

Communications 55 .2 104.6 35 .4 80 .2 25 .7 61 .1 58 .6 60 .6 62 .0 126.8 84 .6 54 

Navigation 23 .6 22 .0 42.1 27.9 27.6 15 .5 22 .0 24 .7 11 .5 5.1 7.4 6

Early Warning 122.5 180.8 102.4 61 .5 50 .4 58.6 45 .6 68.0 (159 .0)" (211 .8) (266.5) (228

Weather 

Geodesy 12.1 8.6 5.8 5

Space Defenseb 8.2 33 .0 40 .9 66.9 39.1 8.o 16 .6 15.4 16.5 9.8 3.9 3

Vehicle and

Engine Develop .

3.7 68.3 286.1 389.8 274.4 190.0 98.9 72 .5 72 .3 74 .6 46.0 36

Space Ground

Support` 578 102.6 167.7 171.9 235.1 240.1 316.9 260.2 183.9 169.3 150.5 152

Research and

Development °

74'2 1557 1743 1579 167.1 156.9 131, 124.1 79 .9 82 .6 84.6 118

General Supporte 4207 5312 5692 5535 713.0 8072 7328 864.5 9009 868.0 863.0 801

Total 813.9 1298 .2 15499 15993 1579 " 4°1688.8 1663.6 1921 .8 2013 .1 1678 .4 1512.3 1406
Notes

a. The missions listed exclude satellite reconnaissance due to the March 1962 DoD Directive that ended all official reference to reconnaissance activities. Howeve

totals for FY 1959 and FY 1960 include satellite reconnaissance projects it is likely that subsequent funding for this activity has been hidden in the above totals . F

satellite intelligence gathering activities is excluded from this table These figures are not publicly available . The mission elements have also varied in subsequen

reflected in the table

b Space Defense includes such projects as SAINT, Program 505, 437

c . Defined as including range support, instrumentation, satellite detection, tracking and control .

d . Defined as including basic and applied research and component development.

e . Defined as including laboratory and research center in house programs, development support organizations, general operational support, and space related m

construction not otherwise charged to specific space projects .

f. Figures for FY 1961 are the first available using this mission break down,

g. This total is different from Appendix 3-4 where the amount is given as $1573.9.

h For FY 1969-72 there are no separate figures for the Early Warning Mission However the entry `miscellaneous' which is in parenthesis includes Early Warnin

i Space Defense funding for FY 1974 and FY 1975 is added in parenthesis but it is excluded from subsequent listings for these years .

j TQ=Transitional Quarter.

Early Warning 103 .7 136.5 88.7 16 .0 87.9 150 .0 214 .3 207.3 267.3 565 .7 7072 7

Weather 24.5 29 .1 54.7 8.1 67.9 78 .7 61 .2 67 .9 86.5 109 .7 232.4 1

Geodesy 6 .6 7.7 46 .3 2 .2 7 .7 7 .3 8 .5 10.3 11 .6 28.1 60.8 

Space Defense' (3 .5)' (3 .2)

Vehicle and

Engine Develop.

26.0 36 .8 54.7 18 .5 106 .3 289.6 509.6 661 .0 758.5 842.3 1072 .5 12

Space Ground

Support,

189.9 91 .9 111.7 24 .9 123 .6 173 .7 210.9 242.3 3378 472 .0 614.4 80

Research and

Development°

133'8 137.1 159 .3 50 .1 209.5 296 .0 4340 4277 5737 7596 848 .7 10

General Support , 968 .1 1044 .2 1047 .9 260 .3 981 .2 1065 .5 1196 .5 1196 .5 1540.1 2586 .7 33293 46

Total 1766 .0 1892 .4 1983 .3 460.4 2411 .1 2728.8 3211 .3 3211 .3 38484 6681.1 84909 105
'Excludes amounts for aircraft technology in 1959 and succeeding years. Amounts for NASA-NACA aircraft and space activities 

separately identifiable prior to 1959.

Note : Details may not add to totals because of rounding.

Source: Report to Congress, U.S . Aeronautics and Space Activities 1968, p.110 .

Total

Space'

DoD AEC Commerce Interior Agriculture NSF 

1955 56 .9 56.9 3.0 

1956 72.7 72 .7 30-3 7-0 7-3 

1957 78 .2 78 .2 71.0 21.3 8 .4 

1958 117-3 117.3 205.6 21 .3 33 

1959 305-4 235-4 489-5 34-3 

1960 523 .6 461 .5 56o.9 43-3 0.1 l

1961 964.0 926.o 813 .9 67.7 o.6 1

1962 1824 .9 1,796 .8 1,298 .2 147 .8 50 .7 1 .3 3

1963 3673.0 3,626 .o 1,549-9 213-9 43-2 1-5 5

1964 50997 50463 1599-3 210 .0 2 .8 3.0 6

1965 52497 5,1676 1573-9 228.6 12 .2 3 .2 6

1966 5174 .9 5,094-5 1,688 .8 186 .8 26 .5 4.1 3 .2 7

1967 4967.6 4,862.2 1,663 .6 183 .6 29 .3 3 .0 2.8 6

1968 4588 .8 4,452-5 1,921 .8 145.1 28.1 2.0 0.5 3 .2 6

1970 budget:

1969 3994.9 3,844 .8 2,o82 .5 117 .2 20.2 2.2 0.7 3 .3 6

1970 3760.5 3,599 .0 2,218 .7 105 .5 9.7 6.o 3.6 3.7 5
Billions of dollars

8.0

7.0

6.0

5.0

4.0

3.0

2.0

1.0

0.0

IMMEMEEME MINININIMININIM

1%2 1%3 1964 1%5 1966 1%7 1968 1%9 1970

*

Source : Report to Congress, U.S. Aeronautics and Space Activities 1968, p. no.

Other

Defense

f 13 NASA

295
gp

15 November 1982-1 May 1983 *

296

Project, Sensor, Unit, Site:

Overseas Ground Station (OGS) Availability Improvments 15 November 1982

DSP-1 Upgrade

Sensor Evolutionary Development

BMEWS Missile Impact Predictor 1 December 1982

BMEWS Radar Upgrades

Large Processing Station Upgrade 31 January 1983

Operational Support Module

DSP Peripheral Upgrade

PAVE PAWS Expansion 1 February 1983

Tactical Warning Sensor Tech Support Center

ARPA Maui Optical Station (AMOS) Compensated Imaging

Ground-based Electro-optical Deep Space Surveillance

(GEODSS) System, Sites 4 and 5

Mobile Ground System 1 March 1983

Improved Radar Calibration System

C-Band Upgrades

Space Based Surveillance System

Retrograde Sensors

Pacific Barrier (PACBAR) III radar

Diyarbakir Extended Range Modification 1 April 1983

Peterson AFB

Detachment 1, loth Missile Warning Squadron (FSS-7) 1 May 1983

loth Missile Warning Squadron (FPS-85)

Perimeter Acquisition Radar Characterization System

COBRA DANE

FPS-79, Pirinclik, Turkey

PAVE PAWS

Defense Support Program (DSP)

Simplified Processing Station
Ballistic Missile Early Warning System (BMEWS)

Defense Meteorological Satellite Program (DMSP)

GEODSS Sites 1, a, and 3

Maui Optical Tracking and Identification Facility (MOTIF)

Western Space and Missile Center Sensor Support

Eastern Space and Missile Center Sensor Support

Baker-Nunn cameras

ARPA Lincoln C-Band Observables Radar (ALCOR)

SACLOG

4614th Contracting Squadron

BMEWS Radome Replacement

46ozd Computer Services Squadron and Detachment 1

FPS-85 System Programming Agency

Operating Location BE, 39ooth Computer Services Squadron

Activities of Lincoln Laboratories

PACBAR I radar

PACBAR II radar

Signal Analysis System Acquisition

Large Processing Station Facility Upgrade

Thule AB, Greenland

Sondrestrom AB, Greenland

Clear AFS, Alaska

Source: History, Space Command ADCOM, January-December 1983, pp. 3 - 4 .

297
+ Upon publication of Air Force Regulation 55-24

Source: Space Command/Xrxx to HQ USAF/XOS et al, subj: 15-16 Nov 84 Space Plan

Meeting Minutes, 19 December 1984, attachment 3 .

298

is Space Weapons Plan HQ USAF/XOS October 1985

2a ALMV Summary Plan SPACECOM/XPSD Done

3a SDI Operational Requirements SPACECOM/XPSD January 1985

3b SDI Strategic Implications HQ USAF/XOS January 1985

4a Space Systems Architecture Study SPACECOM/XPSS January 1985

5a Force Structure Operational Concepts SPACECOM/XPSS +

5b Force Structure Support SPACECOM/LGXP June 1985

5c Satellite Replacement SPACECOM/XPSS June 1985

6a Space Transportation Master Plan SAF/ALS March 1985

7a Satellite Autonomy Plan Space Division/XRP January 1985

7b Satellite Control Network

Documentation Space Division/XRP January 1985

7c Space Station R&D Requirements Space Division/XRP June 1985

7d Space Station Operational

Requirements SPACECOM/XPSF February 1985

8a Staffing Decisions HQ USAF/MPMP Done

8b Training HQ USAF/MPPTS Done

8c Education Assessment HQ USAF/MPPE May 1985

Sd Career Development and Retention HQ USAF/MPPTS May 1985

9a Military Crews in Space SPACECOM/XPSF March 1985

1oa Military Use of Commercial Systems SPACECOM/KRQS March 1985

lob Commercial Systems Survivability SPACECOM/KRQS March 1984

11a Logistics Support AFLC/XRXO May 1985

ub Depot Support AFLC/XRXO May 1985

uc Logistics Integration AFLC/XRXO May 1985

12a New Actions HQ USAF/XOS May 1985

13a Air Force Manual 2-XK SPACECOM/XPXX February 1985

13b Basic Doctrine HQ USAF/XOXIS May 1985

14a Radio Frequency Interference SPACECOM/DOCE June 1985

14b Space Debris Space Division/XRP June 1985

15a Planning Gap HQ USAF/XOS January 1985
Introduction. The Dawn of the Space Age

i . Project RAND, Preliminary Design of

an Experimental World-Circling Spaceship

(Santa Monica, CA: Douglas Aircraft Co,

2 May 1946), p. 1 .

2. In recognizing this dichotomy, one

must not overlook the Navy's contribution

to Project Vanguard and both Army and

Navy missile development work throughout

this period .

3. Theodore von KArmdn with Lee Edson,

The Wind and Beyond: Theodore von

Kdrmdn, Pioneer in Aviation and Pathfinder

in Space (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1967), pp 225-227; Michael H. Gorn,

The Universal Man. Theodore von Kdrmdn's

Life in Aeronautics, Smithsonian History of

Aviation Series, ed . Von Hardesty. (Washington, D.C . : Smithsonian Institution Press,

1992), p. 82 .

4. Gorn, The Universal Man, pp. 73-92;

von KArmAn, Wind and Beyond, pp. 234-248;

Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas, Concepts,

Doctrine: Basic Thinking in the United States

Air Force, 19071960 . Vol. I . Maxwell Air

Force Base, AL: Air University Press, 1989,

P. 543, (hereafter cited as Futrell, Ideas,

1907-1960) ; Frank J. Malina, "Origins and

First Decade of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory," in Eugene M. Emme, ed. The History

ofRocket Technology : Essays on Research,

Development, and Utility (Detroit: Wayne

State University Press, 1964), pp. 46-52.

5. Roger E. Bilstein, Orders ofMagnitude.

A History ofthe NACA and NASA, 1915-1990.

The NASA History Series . NASA SP-4406,

(Washington, D.C. : National Aeronautics

and Space Administration, 1989), pp. 1-14 ;

Loyd S. Swenson Jr., James M. Grimwood,

and Charles C. Alexander, This New Ocean:

A History ofProject Mercury. The NASA

Historical Series . NASA SP-4201 (Washington, D.C . : National Aeronautics and Space

Administration, 1966), pp. 6-9.

6. Quoted in, U.S. House, Committee on

Government Operations, Government Operations in Space (Analysis ofCivil-Military

Roles and Relationships), House Report No.

445, 89th Congress, 1st Session, June 4, 1965,

23 .

7. See Bilstein, Orders of Magnitude, pp.

15-42; Swenson, This New Ocean, pp. 9-13 ;

Futrell, Ideas, 1907-i96o, pp. 541- 543.

8. Space generally came to mean the

region above 50 miles in altitude, beyond

which aerodynamic vehicles had insufficient

oxygen. Orbiting spacecraft needed approximately loo miles altitude to remain in Earth

orbit. See Robert L. Perry, Origins of the

USAF Space Program, 1945-1956. V, History

of DCAS1961 . AFSC Historical Publications

Series 62-24-10 (Los Angeles, CA: Air Force

Systems Division, Space Systems Division,

1961), p 1; Swenson, This New Ocean, p. 13 ;

Rip Bulkeley, The Sputniks Crisis an Early

United States Space Policy: A Critique ofthe

Historiography ofSpace (Bloomington, ID:

Indiana University Press, 1991), pp. 46-48.

9. Discussion of the space pioneers is

based on the following: Perry, Origins ofthe

USAF Space Program, pp. 2-6; Swenson, This

New Ocean, pp. 13-18; Walter A. McDougall,

. . . the Heavens and the Earth : A Political

History of the SpaceAge (New York : Basic

Books, 1985), pp. 20-21, 76-78; Bilstein,

P.

Orders ofMagnitude, pp. 12-14.

lo . Oberth had returned to Rumania in

1930 to teach and, because of his difficult

personality and Rumanian citizenship, did

not join the Peenemuende project until 1941.

Although the von Braun group did not

acknowledge its debt to Oberth, Oberth's

patents covered their innovations, which

299
opments, see Michael J. Neufeld, The Rocket

and the Reich : Peenemuende and the Coming

of the Ballistic Missile Era (New York: The

Free Press, 1995) .

u. Malina, "Origins and First Decade of

the Jet Propulsion Laboratory," pp. 46-52;

von KArman, Wind and Beyond, pp. 240-242.

12 . Malina, "Origins and First Decade of

the Jet Propulsion Laboratory," pp. 46-52 .

13 . von KArman, Wind and Beyond, p. 243 ;

Gorn, Universal Man, pp. 82-92 ; Malina,

"Origins and First Decade of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory," pp. 48-6o.

14. Gorn, Universal Man, pp. 82-92 ;

Malina, "Origins and First Decade of the Jet

Propulsion Laboratory," pp. 48-6o.

15 . Malina, "Origins and First Decade of

the Jet Propulsion Laboratory," pp. 48-66 . In

the words of Frank Malina, JPL became the

country's initial "center for space and longrange missile development."

16. H. H. Arnold, Global Mission (New

York : Harper & Brothers, Publishers, 1949),

P. 532-

17 . Theodore von Karman, Toward New

Horizons : Science, the Key to Air Supremacy.

Commemorative Edition, 1950-1992 (Headquarters Air Force Systems Command,

1992), pp. vii-ix ; Gorn, Universal Man, pp.

1o8-117 .

18 . von Karman, Toward New Horizons:

Science, the Key to Air Supremacy, Gorn,

Universal Man, pp. 1o8-u7 ; von Karman,

Wind and Beyond, pp. 289-294 ; Thomas A.

Sturm, The USAF Scientific Advisory Board:

Its First Twenty Years, 1944-1964 (Washing -

ton, D.C.: USAF Historical Division Liaison

Office, 1967), pp. 2-15 .

19 . Bruce L. R. Smith, The RAND Corporation (Cambridge, MA: 1966), pp. 3o-65 ; R.

Cargill Hall, "The Origins of U.S. Space

Policy : Eisenhower, Open Skies, and

300

McDougall, . . . the Heavens and the Earth,

p. 89; von KArman, Wind and Beyond, p. 302.

20. Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space Policy,"

p. 5 ; Futrell, Ideas, 19o7-i96o, pp. 209 ;

Edmund Beard, Developing the ICBM: A Study

in Bureaucratic Politics (New York : Columbia University Press, 1976), pp. 24-26, 112.

21. Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," p. 9 ; Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space

Policy," pp. 5-6; Beard, Developing the ICBM,

PP. 71- 73 .

22. Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," p. 9 ; Hall, "Origins of U.S. Space

Policy," pp. 5-6; Beard, Developing the ICBM,

PP. 71-73 .

23 . von Karman, Toward New Horizons:

Science, the Key to AirSupremacy, Gorn,

Universal Man, pp. 1o8-u7 ; von Karman,

Wind and Beyond, pp. 289-294; Thomas A.

Sturm, The USAF Scientific Advisory Board:

Its First Twenty Years, 1944-1964 (Washing -

ton, D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison

Office, 1967), pp. 2-15 .

24 . von KArman, Wind and Beyond, p. 293.

25 . Bulkeley, The Sputniks Crisis, p. 40 ;

Jacob Neufeld, The Development of Ballistic

Missiles in the United States Air Force 1945-

196o . General Histories (Washington, D.C . :

Office of Air Force History, 1990), p. 24.

26 . Gorn, Universal Man, p. 117.

27 . Futrell, Ideas, 19o7 i96o, pp. 219-220 ;

Hall, "Early U.S . Proposals," p. 68; Beard,

Developing the ICBM, pp. 69-72 . Bush was

slow to change his views. In his 1949 book,

Modern Arms and Free Men, he conceded

that long range missiles could be built, but

at too high a cost. Only after Sputnik did he

revise his earlier views.

28 . von Karman, Wind and Beyond, p. 230 .

29 . Futrell, Ideas, 1907-1960, pp. 48o-481 ;

Bulkeley, The Sputniks Crisis, pp. 37-44 .
Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space Program,"

pp. 8-13; Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space Policy,"

pp. 5-6; see also the review of postwar rocket

and satellite developments in Constance

McLauglin Green and Milton Lomask,

Vanguard: A History (Washington, D.C. :

Smithsonian Institution Press, 1971).

2. The following discussion of the Rand

proposal is based on: Project RAND,

Preliminary Design ofan Experimental

World-Circling Spaceship (Santa Monica, CA:

Douglas Aircraft CO., 2 May 1946); Merton

E. Davies and William R. Harris, RAND's

Role in the Evolution ofBalloon and Satellite

Observation Systems and Related U.S Space

Technology (The RAND Corporation, September 1988 . R-3692-RC), pp. 3-9; Hall, "Early U.S . Proposals," pp. 74-8o; Perry, "Origins

of the USAF Space Program," pp. 12-17.

3. It should be noted that Arthur C.

Clarke, intrepid British member of the

British Planetary Society, suggested such a

course using geosynchronous satellite positioning the previous year. He comments on

this in his, The Promise of Space (New York:

Harper & Row, Publishers, 1968), pp. 97-101.

4. Project RAND, Preliminary Design of

an Experimental World-Circling Spaceship

(Santa Monica, CA: Douglas Aircraft Co,

2 May 1946), p. 1o .

5 . Ibid., pp. 1-2.

6 It also should be noted that the Key

West Agreement worked out by the joint

Chiefs of Staffat Key West, Florida, in

March of 1948 accorded the Air Force

operations in air space, but did not address

activities in outer space. Logically, the Air

Force thus devoted its attention and budget

priorities to air-breathing cruise missiles .

Futrell, Ideas, 1907-196o, p. 198.

7. For postwar V-2 experiments, see

especially David H. DeVorkin, Science with a

Vengeance: How the Military Created the US

Springer-Verlag, 1992); Neufeld, Development of Ballistic Missiles, p. 36; Malina,

"Origins and First Decade of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory," pp. 48-66; U.S. House,

Committee on Government Operations,

Government Operations in Space (Analysis

ofCivil-Military Roles and Relationships),

House Report No. 445, 89th Congress, 1st

Session, June 4, 1965, p. 24-26.

8. Malina, "Origins and First Decade of

the Jet Propulsion Laboratory," p. 65 ; Green

and Lomask, Vanguard, p. 1o .

9. DeVorkin, Science with a Vengeance,

pp. 168-182; Green and Lomask, Vanguard,

pp. 1o-n . Despite development by the Office

of Naval Research, the Vanguard generally

is regarded as a largely civilian program in

contrast with its competitors for America's

scientific satellite entry in the International

Geophysical Year program.

1o . Neufeld, Development of Ballistic

Missiles, pp. 24-27, 44-5o; Beard, Developing

the ICBM, pp. 43-82.

11 . Beard, Developing the ICBM, pp. 17-29;

Neufeld, Development of Ballistic Missiles,

PP. 13 - 23 .

12 . Beard, Developing the ICBM, pp. 17-29;

Neufeld, Development of Ballistic Missiles,

pp. 13-23; Donald R. Baucom, The Origins

ofSDI, 1944 -1983 (Lawrence, KS: University

Press of Kansas, 1992), pp. 1-15 . As Baucom

points out, following the 1958 decision, the

Army dominated the missile defense arena

until the Strategic Defense Initiative Organization began operations in 1984 . He argues

that the Air Force continued to lag in the

missile defense activities, and at present

ranks behind both the Army and the Navy

in terms of size and scope of missile defense

programs . Donald R. Baucom, "Manuscript Review Comments," 8 December 1995

13 . Neufeld, Development ofBallistic

Missiles, pp. 5o-56.

301
16. Beard, Developing the ICBM, p. 61 .

17. Bulkeley, The Sputniks Crisis, p. 71 .

18. Beard, Developing the ICBM, pp. 107

113 ; Futrell, Ideas, 19o7-i96o, pp. 275-278 .

19 . Doolittle's role is recounted by Ivan

Getting in, Gen Bernard A. Schriever, et al,

Reflections on Research and Development in

the United States Air Force, Jacob Neufeld,

ed . (Washington, D.C . : Center for Air Force

History, 1993), P. 40.

20. Bulkeley, The Sputniks Crisis, pp. 74-77 .

21 . Futrell, Ideas, 19o7 i96o, pp. 488-489 ;

Beard, Developing the ICBM, pp. 129-130 .

22 . Beard, Developing the ICBM, pp. 130-

145 . Ongoing doubts about the project's

technical feasibility rather than roles and

missions concerns apparently prompted

the Air Staff to refer ARDC's request to the

Guided Missiles Committee. Since spring

1950, the Air Force had been authorized exclusive development of long-range strategic

missiles, although the Army and Navy continued to contest both development and operational responsibility for missiles . Neufeld,

Development of Ballistic Missiles, p. 56 .

23 . Beard, Developing the ICBM, pp. 129 -151 .

24. The following analysis is based on:

Davies, RAND's Role . . . Satellite Observation

Systems, pp. 9-19 ; Hall, "Early U.S . Proposals," pp. So-84 .

25 . Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," p. 23 .

26 . Bulkeley, The Sputniks Crisis, pp. 78-

82; Hall, "Early U.S . Proposals," pp. 85-88 .

27. Davies, RAND's Role . . . Satellite

Observation Systems, pp. 18-19 ; Hall, "Early

U.S . Proposals," pp. 88-91 .

28. Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," pp. 29-37; Davies, RAND's Role

. . . Satellite Observation Systems, pp. 23-35

29 . Davies, RAND's Role . . . Satellite Observation Systems, pp. 35-39 ; Hall, "Origins of

U.S. Space Policy," pp . 6,19-20 .

302

Press, 1993), p. 18 ; Futrell, Ideas, 19o7-i96o,

PP. 424-428 ; Fred I . Greenstein, The HiddenHand Presidency. Eisenhower as Leader (New

York: Basic Books, 1982), p. 70.

31 . James R. Killian, Jr., Sputnik, Scientists,

and Eisenhower: A Memoir ofthe First Special

Assistant to the President for Science and

Technology (Cambridge : The MIT Press,

1977), p. 68 ; Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space

Policy," pp. 19-20 .

32 . Davies, RAND's Role. . . Satellite Observation Systems, pp. 48-56 .

33 . Killian, Sputnik, Scientists, and

Eisenhower, p. 68; Hall, "Origins of U.S.

Space Policy," pp. 19-20 .

34 . Divine, Sputnik Challenge, pp. 22-23;

Beard, Developing the ICBM, 145-151 .

35 . For the most comprehensive study of

the missile program and Gardner's role, see

Beard, Developing the ICBM, pp. 143-194, and

Neufeld, Development of Ballistic Missiles,

PP. 95 - 151 ; John T. Greenwood, "The Air

Force Ballistic Missile and Space Program

(1954 -1974)," Aerospace Historian 21 Winter

(1974) :190-197 . The von Neumann Committee is often referred to as the Teapot

Committee. According to Dr. Simon Ramo,

however, this designation applies only to a

second committee, which Gardner formed

at the same time, to examine non-strategic

missile programs. The latter received the

name Teapot Committee when Gardner

objected to Ramo's first suggestion, Tea

Garden, because he believed the association

with his own name was too close. By contrast, the von Neumann Committee should

receive no other designation than Strategic

Missile Evaluation Committee (SMEC). Dr.

Simon Ramo, telephone conversation with

Mr. George WBradley, Director of History,

Air Force Space Command, 7 March 1997

36. Bruno W. Augenstein, Evolution of the

U.S. Military Space Program, 1945ig6o: Some
1982), pp. 6-7; Davies, RAND's Role. . . Satellite

Observation Systems, pp . 48-56.

37 . Divine, Sputnik Challenge, p. 22 .

38 . Beard, Developing the ICBM, pp. 16o-161.

39 . Beard, Developing the ICBM, p.184 ;

Neufeld, Developmentof Ballistic Missiles,

pp. 122-123.

40 . Schriever, et al, Reflections on Research

and Development, pp. 53-58; Greenwood,

"The Air Force Ballistic Missile and Space

Program," pp. 190-197.

41 . Beard, Developing the ICBM, pp. 185-

194; Divine, Sputnik Challenge, pp. 22-23.

42 . Schriever, et al, Reflections on Research

and Development, pp. 53-58; Greenwood,

"The Air Force Ballistic Missile and Space

Program," pp. 190-197; Beard, Developing the

ICBM, pp. 185- 194; Divine, Sputnik Challenge,

pp. 22-23.

43 . Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," pp. 40-45; McDougall, . . .the

Heavens and the Earth, pp. 107-u1 .

44 . Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," pp. 40-45; McDougall, . . .the

Heavens and the Earth, pp 107-u1 .

45 . Davies, RAND's Role . . . Satellite

Observation Systems, pp . 53-55; Hall,

"Origins of U.S . Space Policy," pp. 18-21.

46 . Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," pp. 40-45; Augenstein, Evolution

of the U.S. Military Space Program, pp. 6-8.

47. Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," pp. 42-43.

48 . Ibid.

49 . Ibid.

50 . Ibid., pp. 43-45; Davies, RAND's Role

. . . Satellite Observation Systems, p. 63 .

51 . Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space Policy,"

pp. 19-21; Killian, Sputnik, Scientists, and

Eisenhower, pp. 67-86; Bulkeley, Sputniks

Crisis, pp. 147-148.

52 . Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space Policy,"

pp.

19-21; Killian, Sputnik, Scientists, and

the Killian Panels deliberations on the U-2

were too secret even to appear in their

formal report .

53 . Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space Policy,"

pp. 19-21; Killian, Sputnik, Scientists, and

Eisenhower, pp. 67-86; Bulkeley, Sputniks

Crisis, pp. 147- 148; Divine, Sputnik Challenge,

pp. 23-25 .

54 . For a comprehensive treatment of

the IGY issue, see Bulkeley, Sputniks Crisis,

pp. 89-122; Hall, "Origins of U.S. Space

Policy," pp. 20-21, notes 38 and 39.

55 . Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," pp. 45-47; McDougall, . . .the

Heavens and the Earth, pp. u8-u9; Green

and Lomask, Vanguard, pp . 16-18.

56 . Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space Policy,"

pp. 20-21; Bulkeley, Sputniks Crisis, pp. 157-

158, 213; R. Cargill Hall, "The Eisenhower

Administration and the Cold War: Framing

American Astronautics to Serve National

Security" Prologue (Spring 1995) 27 no.1 : 63 .

57. Hall, "Origins of U.S. Space Policy,"

pp. 20-24; Bulkeley, Sputniks Crisis, pp. 179-

181; McDougall, . . .the Heavens and the

Earth, pp. u8-123-

58. House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 27-29; Paul B. Stares, The

Militarization of Space: U.S. Policy, 1945 -1984

(Ithica, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985),

PP. 33-35; Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," p. 48 ; Futrell, Ideas, 1907-1960,

PP. 547-548; Bulkeley, Sputniks Crisis, pp.

127-128. Bulkeley points out that during the

summer of 1955 Project Orbiter added the

LPL's radio link, then under development

and later named Microlock, to its specifications in order to enhance its competitive

position . Like Minilock, which would become NASA's primary tracking and telemetry system, Microlock was a radio interferometer tracking system . Less accurate than

Minflock, the 1PL system produced a peak

303
Bulkeley, Sputniks Crisis, pp. 128, 2o6, 244.

Minitrack operational characteristics are

also described in Green and Lomask,

Vanguard, pp. 146-148.

59 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 27-29; Stares, The Militarization

ofSpace, pp. 33-35; Perry, "Origins of the

USAF Space Program," p. 48 ; Futrell, Ideas,

19o7-i96o, pp. 547-548; Bulkeley, Sputniks

Crisis, pp. 127-128.

6o . National Security Council, "U.S . Scientific Satellite Program," NSC 5520, drafted

20 May, approved 26 May 1955, quoted in

Bulkeley, Sputniks Crisis, p. 135.

61 . Bulkeley, Sputniks Crisis, pp. 132-136;

Vernon Van Dyke, Pride and Power. The

Rationale ofthe Space Program (Urbana, IL :

University of Illinois Press, 1964), p. 14 ;

Green and Lomask, Vanguard, pp. 41-56;

Roger D. Launius, NASA: A History of the U.S .

Civil Space Program (Malabar, FL : Krieger

Publishing Company, 1994) P. 22 .

62. Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," pp. 49-55

63 . Ibid.

64 . Ibid.

65 . Ibid.

66 . Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," pp. 42-43; Davies, RAND's Role

Chapter 2. From Eisenhower to

1 . Robert A Divine, The Sputnik Challenge (New York: Oxford University Press,

1993) PP. xiii-xiv.

2 Ibid., pp. xiii-xviii ; Walter A.

McDougall, . . . the Heavens and the Earth : A

Political History ofthe Space Age (New York:

Basic Books, 1985), pp. 141-156; Lee Bowen,

The Threshold ofSpace: The Air Force in the

National Space Program, 19451959 (Washington, D.C. : USAF Historical Division

Liaison Office, September 196o), pp. 8-15 ;

Paul B. Stares, The Militarization of Space:

304

pp. 21-22; Perry, Origins of the USAF Space

Program," pp . 55 -57 ; Stares, Militarization of

Space, pp. 30-31; Space and Missile Systems

Organization: A Chronology 1954-1976, AFSC

Historical Publications (SAMSO, Chief of

Staff, History Office), p. 36; Kenneth E.

Greer, "Corona," Studies in Intelligence,

Supplement, 17 (Spring 1973): 6, reprinted in

Kevin C. Ruffner, ed ., Corona: America's First

Satellite Program (CIA History Staff, Center

for the Study of Intelligence, Washington,

D.C., 1995)

68 . Davies, RAND's Role . . . Satellite

Observation Systems, pp 23-94; Bilstein,

Orders of Magnitude, pp. 42-44; Swenson,

This New Ocean, pp. 55 - 74"

69 . Bulkeley, Sputniks Crisis, pp. 136-142.

70 . Ibid, Green and Lomask, Vanguard,

PP. 130- 131.

71 . Divine, Sputnik Challenge, pp. 29-30.

72. Hall, "Origins of U.S. Space Policy,"

p. 22 ; Perry, "Origins of the USAF Space

Program," pp. 55 - 57

73 . Quoted in Stares, Militarization of

Space, p. 32.

74 . Hall, "Origins of U.S. Space Policy,"

p. 22; Futrell, Ideas, 1907-1960, p. 545.

75 . Bulkeley, Sputniks Crisis, p. 42 .

Kennedy

U.S . Policy, 1945-1984 (Ithica, NY: Cornell

University Press, 1985), pp. 38-40.

3. Particularly unfortunate was the comment of presidential chiefof staff Sherman

Adams, who said America had no plans to

enter "an outer space basketball game" with

the Soviets. Divine, Sputnik Challenge, p. xv.

4. Divine, Sputnik Challenge, p. 6; R.

Cargill Hall, "The Origins of U.S. Space Policy: Eisenhower, Open Skies, and Freedom

of Space," Colloquy (December 1993) : 23 .

5. Divine, Sputnik Challenge, pp. 47-52;
Assistant to the President for Science and

Technology (Cambridge: The MIT Press,

1977, pp . 26-27.

6. Maj John B. Hungerford, Jr ., Organization for Military Space: A Historical Perspective, Report No. 82-1235 (Maxwell AFB, AL:

Air Command and Staff College, 1982),

pp. 22-23; Maj Gen John B. Medaris, Countdown for Decision (New York : G. P. Putnam's

Sons, 1960), pp. 155-167; McDougall, . . .the

Heavens and the Earth, pp. 131,150, 168. The

intrepid von Braun initially promised a

launch within 6o days, but Medaris

countered with 9o, while the official Army

estimate became 120 days . The first attempt

to launch Vanguard on 6 December 1957

proved embarrassingly unsuccessful . See

Divine, Sputnik Challenge, pp. 26-27.

7. U.S . House, Committee on Government Operations, Government Operations in

Space (Analysis ofCivil-Military Roles and

Relationships), House Report No. 445, 89th

Congress, 1st Session, June 4, 1965, p. 31-

8. Robert Kipp, Space Detection and

Tracking: A Chronology (Peterson Air Force

Base, CO: Air Force Space Command Office

of History), March 1990 ; Bruno W.

Augenstein, Evolution ofthe U.S Military

Space Program, 1945 1960: Some Key Events

in Study, Planning, and Program Management (Rand Corporation, September 1982),

p. u; Thomas A. Sturm, The USAF Scientific

Advisory Board: Its First Twenty Years, Office

of Air Force History Special Studies (Washington, D.C : Government Printing Office, 1986 ;

reprint of 1967 edition), pp. 8o-82.

9. Memorandum, Col V A. Adduci,

Assistant Director, Legislative Liaison to

Assistant Deputy Chiefof Staff, Plans and

Programs, subj : Policy Coordination Section

Activities, 7 November 1957 . Col Adduci

and his staff seemed most alarmed about

high congressional interest in the Army's

Dawn of the Space Age,

The AirPower

Historian v, no . 1 (January 1958): 15-19.

11 . Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas, Concepts,

Doctrine : Basic Thinking in the United States

Air Force, 1907-i96o. Vol. I . (Maxwell Air

Force Base, AL: Air University Press, 1989),

PP. 553- 554 (hereafter cited as Futrell, Ideas,

igo7-ig6o) .

12 . Augenstein, Evolution of the U.S.

Military Space Program, p. ii; Bowen, The

Threshold ofSpace, pp. 20-22.

13 . Bowen, The Threshold ofSpace, pp. 21-22.

14 . Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space Policy," p. 22 .

15 . Bowen, The Threshold ofSpace, p. 22;

USAF Scientific Advisory Board, Report ofthe

Scientific Advisory BoardAdHoc Committee

on Space Technology, 6 December 1957. Committee members included David T. Griggs,

Clark B. Milligan, Mark M. Mills, WH.

Radford, H. Guyford Stever, Edward Teller,

and C. S. White.

16 . Bowen, The Threshold ofSpace, pp. 22-

24; Futrell, Ideas, 1907-i960, p 590; Divine,

Sputnik Challenge, p. 98 . The grandstanding

by Air Force generals could not convince

their audience that lunar bases could play a

strategic role, an issue disposed of earlier by

the Killian Committee. See Killian, Sputnik,

Scientists, and Eisenhower, p.129 .

17. Memorandum, SAFGC to Assistant

Secretary of Defense (International Security

Affairs), subj : Proposal for a National Policy

on Outer Space, 18 March 1958.

18 . The following discussion of ARPA is

based on: Bowen, The Threshold ofSpace,

pp. 24 -34; Futrell, Ideas, 1907-i96o, pp. 590-

594; House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 31-55; Hungerford, Organization for Military Space, pp. 25-28; History,

Air Research and Development Command,

Vol I, 1 July-31 December 1959, Chapter 1.

19 . This discussion of NASA is based on

the following: Bowen, The Threshold of

305
1907 i96o, PP. 594-606; McDougall, . . .the

Heavens and the Earth, pp. 157-176; Divine,

Sputnik Challenge, pp.1o4-105,111-112,145-154 .

20 . Roger E. Bilstein, Orders of Magnitude .

A History of the NACA and NASA, 191,5-i99o .

The NASA History Series . NASA SP-4406

(Washington, D.C. : National Aeronautics

and Space Administration, 1989), P. 47.

21 . See Loyd S. Swenson Jr., James M.

Grimwood, and Charles C. Alexander, This

New Ocean A History ofProject Mercury .

The NASA Historical Series . NASA SP-4201

(Washington, D.C : National Aeronautics

and Space Administration, 1966), pp. 75-77.

22. Stares, Militarization ofSpace, PP. 41-43.

23 . Quoted in Futrell, Ideas, 1907-i96o,

PP. 594- 595.

24 . Divine, Sputnik Challenge, pp. 81,104 .

25 . Deputy Secretary of Defense Quarles

to Director, Bob Stans, April 1, 1958 .

26 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, p. 39 ; Killian, Sputnik, Scientists,

and Eisenhower, p.134 .

27 . See especially, House Report, Government Operations in Space, PP. 39,46.

28 . Divine, Sputnik Challenge, pp. 147-148 .

29. Ibid., pp. 105-107; Stares, Militarization

of Space, P. 47; Killian, Sputnik, Scientists,

and Eisenhower, pp. 123-124.

30. Stares, Militarization of Space, pp. 47-57;

Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space Policy," p. 23-24.

31 . For example, see Gen Bernard A.

Schriever, "Does the Military Have a Role in

Space?" in Space: Its Impact on Man and

Society, ed . Lillian Levy (New York : W. W.

Norton & Co., 1965), PP. 59-68.

32 . J . D. Hunley, ed., The Birth ofNASA:

The Diary ofT. Keith Glennan . Vol. NASA SP4105 . The NASA History Series (Washington,

D.C. : NASA History Office, 1993), PP. 9-15;

House Report, Government Operations in

Space, Pp. 49-53

33 . ARPA's FY 1959 budget totaled

306

tary service budgets and those of the AEC

and DoD agencies . The Air Force maintained

no space budget as such . See Bowen, The

Threshold of Space, Pp. 38-43.

34. Memorandum, Under Secretary of

the Air Force to Secretary of Defense, subj :

Space Programs, 17 September 1958 ; Memorandum, Director ARPA to Under Secretary

of the Air Force, subj : Space Programs,

31 October 1958 .

35 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 51- 52 .

36 . On broader aspects of the Defense

Reorganization Act of 1958, which created

the DDR&E, see Futrell, Ideas, 1907-i96o,

PP. 573-586. See also House Report, Government Operations in Space, pp. 53 -55 .

37. Memorandum, Col C. R. Roderick,

Chief, Committee Liaison Division, Office

of Legislative Liaison to Assistant Director,

Legislative Liaison, September 1958 . Although NASA received the meteorological

satellite mission in 1958, and would achieve

success with its TIROS I satellite, the Air Force

continued to seek responsibility for its own

weather satellite. In the 196os, NASA relinquished its meteorological satellite mission

to the Air Force, which developed the Defense Meteorological Satellite Program as a

classified project in support of the Strategic

Air Command and the NRO. Gen Thomas S.

Power, CINCSAC, to Gen Thomas D. White,

CSAF, 1 December 1960, Thomas D. White

Papers, Library of Congress, Manuscript

Division, Box 34, "2-15 SAC:"

38 . Memorandum, AF/DCS Plans to

AF/DCS Development, subj : Air Force Objectives in Space, 5 February 1959

39 . Ibid. ; Memorandum, AFDAT, subj :

Background Information on Current Air

Force Position in Space, n.d . [March 19591 .

40 . Less sympathetic observers might

point out that Symington's charges were
damage to military space activities .

41 . Ibid .

42. Ibid. Interestingly, the AFDAT analysis

noted that the problem with ARPA would

remain if DDR&E were to follow the same

procedures .

43 . AFBMD, Relationship between Ballistic

Missile Programs and Space, January 1959 .

On 25 April 1959, shortly after the Symington

Committee hearings, Maj Gen Schriever

relinquished his Ballistic Missile Division

commandfor command of ARDC and

promotion to Lt Gen.

44 . Ibid.

45 . U.S . Senate, Investigation of Governmental Organization forSpaceActivities,

Hearings Before the Subcommittee on

Governmental Organization for Space

Activities of the Committee on Aeronautical

and Space Sciences, 86th Congress, lst

Session, March 24-May 7, 1959, PP. 413-418

MacIntyre and Schriever testimony also

appears on Pp. 352, 354, 360-361, 396-403,

405, 409, 426- 428, 448 - 49, and 461-62.

46 . The following descriptions of systems

and programs are based on: Department of

Defense, Annual Report of the Secretary of

Defense and the Reports of the Secretary of the

Army, Secretary of the Navy, Secretary of the

Air Force, July 1, 1958 to June 30, 1959

(Washington, D.C . : U.S . Government Printing Office, 2960), pp. 20-25, 334-335; James

Baar and William E. Howard, Spacecraft and

Missiles of the World, 1962 (New York: Harcourt, Brace &World, Inc., 1962), Chapter 3,

Chapter 4; Horace Jacobs and Eunice

Engelke Whitney, Missile and Space Projects

Guide 1962 (New York : Plenum Press, 1962);

Bowen, The Threshold of Space, pp. 43-48;

Max Rosenberg, The Air Force in Space,

1959 -1960, Vol. SHO-S-62/112 (Washington,

D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison

Office, June 1962), pp. 31-49.

tion System. It seems that WS 117L Project

Director Col Fritz Oder adopted the name

only to signify the island home of Midas.

For background on the reconnaissance program, see Jeffrey T. Richelson, America's

Secret Eyes in Space: The U.S. Keyhole Spy

Satellite Program (New York : Harper Business, 1990), pp. 44 - 64-

48 . Bowen, The Threshold of Space,

Pp 46 - 47. For a discussion of the recently

declassified Project CORONA, see Kenneth

E. Greer, "Corona," Studies in Intelligence,

Supplement, 17 (Spring 1973): 6, reprinted

in Kevin C. Ruffner, ed ., Corona: America's

First Satellite Program (CIA History Staff,

Center for the Study of Intelligence,

Washington, D.C ., 1995) ; Robert A.

MacDonald, "CORONA: Success for Space

Reconnaissance, A Look into the Cold War,

and Revolution for Intelligence," PE&RS,

Vol. LXI, No. 6, June 2, 1995, pp. 689-720;

Message from Roger Bossart to Bob

Peterson, "CORONA Program Profile,"

Lockheed Press Release, May24,1995;

Jeffrey T. Richelson, America's Secret Eyes

in Space: The U.S . Keyhole Spy Satellite

Program (New York: Harper Business,

1990), Chapters 1 and 2; Dwayne A. Day,

"CORONA: America's First Spy Satellite,"

Quest (Summer 1995) 4-21 ; Jonathan

McDowell, "US Reconnaissance Satellite

Programs . Part I: Photoreconnaissance,"

Quest (Summer 1995): 22-33.

49 . Ibid ., pp. 36-38. Initially the Air Force

and Army shared responsibility for Notus, a

two-part satellite communications program

consisting of 24-hour synchronous satellites

in equatorial orbit (Decree), and the Courier

delayed repeater satellite. By May 1959, Air

Force requests for a system that would fulfill

SAC'S long range communications needs in

polar regions resulted in the addition of

Steer, a one-channel communications satel307
funding, and schedule problems, would

eliminate Steer and Tackle, leaving only

Decree, which was transferred to the Army

under the name Advent . The Air Force continued to lobby for a feasible polar system .

5o. Kipp, Space Detection and Tracking: A

Chronology

51 . The following discussion is based on:

Space Systems Division (AFSC), Chronology

of Early AirForce Man-In-Space Activity,

AFSC Historical Publications Series 65-21-1,

January 1965 ; Swenson, This New Ocean, pp.

33-97; Jean Evans, "History of the School of

Aviation Medicine," The Air Power Historian,

October 1958, pp . 245-261; Bowen, The

Threshold ofSpace, pp. 31-49; Rosenberg,

The Air Force in Space, 1959-960, PP. 46 - 49 ;

Clarence J. Geiger, History ofthe X-2oA

Dyna-Soar. Vol. 1 . AFSC Historical Publications Series 63-50-1. (Wright-Patterson AFB,

OH: Air Force Systems Command, Aeronautical Systems Division, October 1963).

52 . Less ambitious space medicine programs took place at the Navy School of Aviation Medicine at Pensacola, Florida, and

NACA's Lewis Flight Propulsion Laboratory

in Cleveland.

53 . Bowen, The Threshold ofSpace, p. 31 .

54. See Senate, Investigation ofGovernmental Organization for Space Activities, pp.

484- 493, 271 - 272B .

55. For the Navy proposal, see "General

Proposal for Organization for Command

and Control of Military Operations in

Space," [n .d .], Eisenhower Library, White

House Office, Office of the Spacial Assistant

for Science and Technology, Records (James

R. Killian and George B. Kistiakowsky, 1957-

1961). Box 15 "Space [July-December 1959]

(7)." Rosenberg, TheAir Force in Space,

1959-196o, pp. 18-21.

56 . Lt Gen B. A. Schriever, Commander,

ARDC to Lt Gen R. C. Wilson, Deputy Chief

308

McElroy.

57 . Rosenberg, The Air Force in Space

1959 i96o, pp. 18-21; Carl Berger, The Air

Force in Space, Fiscal Year 1961, Vol. SHO-S66/142 (Washington: USAF Historical Division Liaison Office, April 1966), pp. 29-30.

58. Ibid. ; Futrell, Ideas, igo7i96o,

PP. 593, 6o1.

59 . AFBMD, Impact ofthe OSD `Space

Operations' Memorandum on the AFBMD

Space Program, October 1959

6o . Memorandum, AF/CS to Secretary

of the Air Force, subj : Proposed Assignment

of ABMA to Department of the Air Force,

29 September 1959

61. Rosenberg, TheAir Force in Space,

1959-196o, pp. 15-18; Derek WElliott, "Finding an Appropriate Commitment: Space

Policy Development Under Eisenhower and

Kennedy, 1954-1963," unpublished dissertation (Washington, D.C . : The George Washington University, 1o May 1992), pp. 95 - 97;

Hunley, The Birth ofNASA, pp. 18-24;

Medaris, Countdown to Decision, pp. 265-300.

62 . Memorandum, AFDAT to AFCCS, subj :

Statement of Critical Problem Concerning

SATURN, DYNA SOAR, and Air Force Space

Responsibilities, 30 October 1959 . General

Wilson's failure to have General Boushey's

focal point office for Air Staffspace activities

redesignated from Director of Advanced

Technology to Assistant for Astronautic

Systems served as a reminder that the

administration remained sensitive to the

term "astronautics" and any suggestion of a

higher military profile that might call attention to the nation's military space program.

63 . Rosenberg, TheAir Force in Space,

1959i96o, pp. 27-31; House Report, Government Operations in Space, pp. 53 - 55 .

64 . Rosenberg, The Air Force in Space,

1959-1960, pp. 27-31 ; House Report, Government Operations in Space, pp. 53-55.
66 . Rosenberg, The Air Force in Space,

1959-196o, pp. 1-3.

67. Ibid., pp. 3-4; Stares, Militarization of

Space, pp. 47-57; Hall, "Origins of U.S . Space

Policy," p. 24 ; Elliott, "Finding and Appropriate Commitment," pp. loo-lol.

68 . White House to Congress, subj : Proposed Amendments to the National Aeronautics and Space Act of 1958,14 January

196o .

69 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 55-58; Rosenberg, The Air Force

in Space, 1959-1960, PP. 4-10 .

70 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 55-58 ; Rosenberg, The Air Force

in Space, 1959-196o, pp. 4-10 .

71 . U.S . Senate, NASA Authorization for

Fiscal Year 1961, Hearings Before the NASA

Authorization Subcommittee of the Committee on Aeronautical and Space Sciences,

Pt 1, 86th Congress, 2nd Session, 28-30

March 196o, p. 505.

72. Rosenberg, The Air Force in Space,

1959-196o, pp. 21-26. Begun in October 1959,

the 12o-page document provided the

detailed planning necessary to achieve the

objectives and capabilities prescribed in the

the two unapproved papers .

73 . Berger, TheAir Force in Space, FY 61,

pp. 26-29. This monograph has been declassified except for a number of pages in

the section on Samos. Part of the Air Force's

dilemma is apparent in the terminology

used at this time . Air Force leaders and

government historians who examined this

era often refer to Air Force space policy and

policy guidance, even though space policy

is established by the President and the

National Security Council and the service

is charged with implementing that policy.

74 . Rosenberg, The Air Force in Space,

1959x960, p. 13 .

75 . Ibid., pp. 20-21. Gates replaced Neil

Berger, The AirForce in Space, FY61, pp. 34-

35, 41 - 43; R. Cargill Hall, "The Air Force in

Space," Unpublished classified draft chapter,

May 1984, information used is unclassified ;

Richelson, America's Secret Eyes in Space,

Chapter 2; Stares, Militarization ofSpace,

Pp. 44 - 46. Despite the passage of time,

Berger remains one of the most convincing

sources for Samos developments .

77 . Albert D. Wheelon, the directed

Project CORONA from 1963 to 1966, has

noted that critics of Samos also doubted

whether the camera's small focal length and

the microwave downlink's narrow bandwidth would be capable of achieving the

6o-foot resolution forecast by the planners .

Although the Air Force continued to focus

on film readout for the first phase of Samos

(Project loiA-E2), it pursued a recovery

capability for the second phase (Project

lo1B-E5) . The third phase (Program 201-E6),

also involved film recovery. The Samos

project concluded, unsuccessfully, in 1962,

and it would be another fifteen years before

digital technology made possible effective

film readout from high magnification satellite camera systems. Albert D. Wheelon,

"CORONA: A Triumph of American Technology," Presentation given at Piercing the

Curtain, a joint symposium held by the

CIA's Center for Study of Intelligence and

the George Washington University's Space

Policy Institute at the George Washington

University on May 23-24,1995 ; Message

from Roger Bossart to Bob Peterson,

"CORONA Program Profile," Lockheed Press

Release, May 24, 1995; R. Cargill Hall, "The

Eisenhower Administration and the Cold

War: Framing American Astronautics to

Serve National Security" Prologue (Spring

1995), Vol. 27, no.l, pp. 67-68; McDowell,

"US Reconnaissance Satellite Programs,"

PP. 28-29.

309
CORONA and the Air Force Samos satellite

programs. The term National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) remained classified.

Memorandum, Secretary of the Air Force

Dudley C. Sharp to Chief of Staff Thomas

D. White, 13 September i96o, Watch,

"Organization and Functions of the Office

of Missile and Satellite Systems and Satellite

Reconnaissance Advisory Council," Box 36,

Thomas D. White Papers, Manuscript

Division, Library of Congress .

79 . The Aerospace Corporation, The

Aerospace Corporation. Its Work: 1967-ig8o

(Los Angeles: Times Mirror Press, 1987),

PP. 15 - 25 .

80 . Rosenberg, The Air Force in Space,

1959-1g6o, p. 30 .

81 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY61, p. 2.

82 . Lt Gen B. A. Schriever, ARDC/CC, to

Trevor Gardner, Chairman and President,

Hycon Manufacturing Co, subj : [committee

on space development program], a October

1g6o .

83 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY 61,

PP. 3-5; Stares, Militarization of Space,

pp. 6o-62; Memorandum, Department of

the Air Force, Memorandum for Chief of

Staff, USAF, subj: Report to the PresidentElect of the Ad Hoc Committee on Space,

January 1961 .

84 . Ibid., pp. 29-31.

85 . Berger, The AirForce in Space, FY61,

pp. 5-6, 30-31. In his 15 December 1959 letter,

General White said : "I would like every

member of the Air Force to do everything

within his power to maintain the same

degree of harmony and cooperation with

NASA [as had existed with the National

Advisory Committee for Aeronautics] ."

Quoted in Rosenberg, TheAir Force in

Space, 1g5g -1g6o, pp. 13-14.

86. Gen Thomas D. White, CSAF to

Overton Brooks, Chairman, Science and

31 0

to Dr. T. Keith Glennan, President, Case

Institute of Technology, 14 February 1961,

Box 47, Thomas D. White Papers, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress .

87. Ibid. ; Futrell, Ideas, igo7-i96o, pp. 604-

6o6; Space Systems Division (AFSC), Chronology ofEarlyAir Force Man-In-Space

Activity, p. 41.

88 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY61,

pp. 5 -6.

89 . DoD Directive 516o .32, "Development

of Space Systems," 6 March 1961 .

9o . For the background of the reorganization see, Berger, The Air Force in Space,

FY61, pp . 6-1o ; History, Air Research and

Development Command, Vol I, 1 January31 March 1961, History of Air Force Systems

1 April-3o June 1961, I-22 to I-52 ; U.S . Air

Force Oral History Interview, Gen Bernard

A. Schriever, (USAF, Ret) with Maj Lyn R.

Officer and Dr. James C. Hasdorff, Albert F.

Simpson Historical Research Center, Air

University, Montgomery, Alabama, No.

K239.0512-676, 20 June 1973, pp. 23-25; Rick

W. Sturdevant, "The United States Air Force

Organizes for Space: The Operational

Quest", in Organizing for the Use ofSpace:

Historical Perspectives on a Persistent Issue,

ed . Roger D. Launius (San Diego, CA:

American Astronautical Society, 1995)

g1. Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY61,

pp. 10-14; Memorandum, Trevor Gardner,

et al to Secretary of the Air Force Eugene M.

Zuckert, 23 April 1961 .

92 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY 61,

PP. 15-25.

93. Ibid., pp. 23-24.

94 . Ibid., pp. 24-25, 59-66. These enormous boosters represented an important

commitment to large-scale space operations .

While NASA's liquid propellant Saturn

clustered rocket and single-chamber F-1

Nova rocket motor would be capable of
motor development plan called for a 3-

million pound thrust capability. Later, a

Webb-McNamara agreement of November

1961 would eliminate the large solid motors

as backup to the Nova and Saturn, and the

Air Force would focus on using the solidpropellant motors in its Minuteman ICBM

project. See Carl Berger, The Air Force in

Space, Fiscal Year 1962, Vol. SHO-6-66/198

(Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division

Chapter 3. The Air Force in the Era of Apollo

1 . Message from the President of the

United States, United States Aeronautics and

Space Activities, 1961 (Washington, D.C . :

Government Printing Office), p. 1 .

2. Ibid., p. iii .

3. U.S . House, Committee on Government

Operations, Government Operations in Space

(Analysis of Civil-Military Roles and Relationships), House Report No. 445, 89th Congress, 1st Session, 4 June 1965, p. 61 . Total

funding for Project Apollo amounted to just

over S16 billion. See Courtney G. Brooks,

James M. Grimwood, and Loyd S. Swenson,

Chariots forApollo: A History ofManned

Lunar Spacecraft, The NASA History Series,

NASA SP-4205 (Washington, D.C . : NASA,

1979), PP. 409-411.

4. Carl Berger, The Air Force in Space,

Fiscal Year 1961, Vol. SHO-S-66/142 (Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division

Liaison Office, April 1966), pp. 24-25 .

5. Air Force leaders seldom discussed

their views on space leadership with uniformity and precision during the Kennedy and

Johnson years. Clearly they always advocated greater Air Force space responsibilities, but at times their pretensions embraced

leadership not only of the military space effort, but the national space program-this

despite the large, recognized mission responsibilities of NASA and the NRO. Indeed,

Missiles of the World, 1962 (New York :

Harcourt, Brace & World, 1962), pp. 30-31.

95 . Interview, Secretary of the Air Force

Eugene Zuckert. Oral History Interview for

the Kennedy Memorial Library by Lawrence

McQuade, File No. 168.7050-1, Albert F.

Simpson Historical Research Center

(Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University, May-June

1964), part 6, PP. 5- 6,14- 15 .

despite NASA's manned lunar mission, the

Air Force continued to pursue a mission for

military man-in-space, while service leaders

refused to forego proposals for an offensive

military space capability despite national

policy to the contrary. Air Force space pretensions did not normally find widespread

support among civilian Air Force officials.

Indeed, uniformed service leaders and their

civilian counterparts often differed over a

greater Air Force space role in the national

program.

6 . United States Aeronautics and Space

Activities, 1961 .

7. DoD Directive 5160 .32, "Development

of Space Systems," 6 March 1961 ; Department of Defense, "Annual Report for Fiscal

Year 1961," p. 20. House Report, Government

Operations in Space, pp. 70-71 The so-called

Wiesner Report asserted that 9o percent of

space resources within the military belonged

to the Air Force. Memorandum, Secretary of

the Air Force to Chiefof Staff, USAF, subj :

Report to the President-Elect of the Ad Hoc

Committee on Space, January 1961. During

congressional testimony on 16 January 1961,

Director of Defense Research and Engineering Herbert F. York stated that "the total

amount of money spent in the Department

of Defense on space programs, either directly by the Air Force or through the Air Force,
Congress, lst Session, February 16, 1961

(Washington, D.C. : Government Printing

Office), P. 9-

8. As noted in the previous chapter, Air

Force space advocates like General Schriever

favored a larger military space program and

one that would include offensive weapons in

space regardless of national policy to the

contrary. More accurately described as a

policy of "freedom of space" and the "peaceful uses of space," the Eisenhower administration encouraged passive military space

missions but not offensive platforms and

weapons that could threaten the valuable

national space reconnaissance mission. Although service leaders were aware of the

administration's concern, they nevertheless

pursued the characteristic approach to defense that called for preparing for potential

threats regardless of the venue. They would

likely argue that the only way to ensure

"peaceful overflight" and the reconnaissance

space flight would be to deploy weapons in

space that would deny the Soviets space

supremacy. Continued Air Force pressure

would lead the Kennedy administration to

reaffirm the Eisenhower policy and stymie

service efforts to achieve "space supremacy."

9. Carl Berger, The Air Force in Space,

Fiscal Year 1962, Vol. SHO-S-66/198 (Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division

Liaison Office, June 1966), p. 4.

1o . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY 62,

PP. 4-5.

u. Ibid., Pp. 5-6.

12 . Ibid ., p. 6.

13 . Quoted in Ibid., p. 8. For Schriever's

speech, see the Washington Post, 13 October

1961.

14 . Quoted in Berger, The Air Force in

Space, FY62, pp. 7-8. General LeMay became

Chiefof Staff in June 1961 following Gen

Thomas D. White's retirement

31 2

Headquarters USAF, September 1961.

17 . Air Force Space Plan (Draft),

September 1961, p. 7.

18 . Ibid., p. 83 .

19. Ibid., "Summary of Conclusions and

Recommendations," pp. 83-88.

20 . Ibid, pp. 20-21, 83-88.

21 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY 62,

pp. 19-20; Col Harry L. Evans, Deputy for

Satellite Systems, SSD to Col Appold, SSD/

DCL, subj : USAF Space Program FY 63-64,

2 January 1962 . Later, on 8 September 1962,

Air Force headquarters designated

Ferguson's office, DCS/R&D, the focal point

for Air Force space issues.

22. Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY62,

pp. 20-21; Presentation, Lt Gen James

Ferguson, Deputy Chief of Staff, Research

& Technology, USAF Statement before the

House Committee on Armed Services,

February 1962, SAMSO Archives, Space,

General, 1962 . The Ferguson address is also

found in Aviation Week and Space TechnologY, 5 March 1962, PP. 75, 77, 79, 83, 87, 89, 91-

92,94,96.

23 . Presentation, Statement by Lt Gen

James Ferguson, Deputy Chief of Staff,

Research & Technology, USAF, before the

House Committee on Armed Services,

February 1962 .

24. Ibid. The eleven areas included improved boosters, in-space propulsion, power

supplies required, communications technology, re-entry and recovery, and, most

importantly, man's space role .

25 . Ibid; AFXPD-PA-LRP, Air Force Space

Program FY1963, Panel One, Ferguson Task

Force, 22 December 1961 .

26 . Presentation, Statement by Lt Gen

James Ferguson, Deputy Chief of Staff,

Research & Technology, USAF, before the

House Committee on Armed Services,

February 1962 .
Force Manned Military Space Program,"

23 February 1962 .

28 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY62,

pp . 22-23; Presentation, Address by Gen

Curtis E. LeMay, Chief of Staff, United

States Air Force, Assumption College,

Worcester, Massachusetts, 28 March 1962,

SAMSO Archives, Space, General, 1962 .

29 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY 62,

pp . 21-25. The McNamara-LeMay meeting is

also described in, Presentation, Address to

Space Technical Objectives Group, by Lt

Gen Howell M. Estes, Jr., DCAS, Los Angeles

California, 16 April 1962, p. 2.

30 . The other panels are: Unmanned

Spacecraft Panel, Space Flight Ground

Environment Panel, Supporting Space

Research and Technology Panel, Aeronautics Panel. U.S . House, Subcommittee on

NASA Oversight of the Committee on Science and Astronautics, The NASA-DoD Relationship, 88th Congress, 2nd Session, 1964,

pp. u-15 ; House Report, Government

Operations in Space, p. 65

31 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 65-66, 126-127; Berger, The Air

Force in Space, FY 62, pp. 54-6o; Arnold S.

Levine, Managing NASA in the Apollo Era.

The NASA History Series . NASA SP-4102

(Washington, D.C . : National Aeronautics

and Space Administration, 1982), pp. 225-228.

32 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY62,

pp. 10-12; House Report, Government

Operations in Space, p. 66 .

33. Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY62,

pp. 12-14.

34 . DoD Directive 5030 .18, "Department

of Defense Support of National Aeronautics

and Space Administration (NASA),"

24 February 1962 .

35 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 65-67; Report, "Air Force/NASA

Space Program Management Panel 3 Report

1962] ; Levine, Managing NASA, pp. 2u-214 ;

House Report, NASA-DoD Relationship, pp.

3-6. Despite NASA's interest in the Navy's

Transit system, the agency never developed

a navigation satellite .

36 . House Report, Government Operations in Space, pp. 8o-83; Paul B. Stares, The

Militarization of Space: U.S . Policy, 1945-1984

(Ithica, NY: Cornell University Press, 1985),

PP. 77 - 78 .

37 . House Report, Government Operations in Space, pp. 8o-83; Stares, Militarization of Space, pp. 77-78.

38 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 8o-84; Stares, Militarization of

Space, pp. 77-78, 65-66, 69-70. Although

these projects were removed from public

scrutiny, the government officially announced all launches and the trade press

continued to discuss DoD space issues and

activities.

39 . The most comprehensive treatment

of the 156 Committee deliberations is:

Raymond L. Garthoff, "Banning the Bomb

in Outer Space," International Security,

Winter 1980/81 (Vol. 5, No. 3), pp. 25-40.

Although Garthoff describes persistent JCS

opposition to a unilateral declaration without verification strictures, he at no point

refers to Air Force actions as precipitating

Kennedy's decision to establish the committee. For a discussion of disarmament space

developments during the 196os, see Stares,

Militarization of Space, pp. 59-105 .

40 . House Report, Government Operations in Space, p. 73 ; Roger E. Bilstein, Orders

ofMagnitude. A History of the NACA and

NASA, 191,5-1990. The NASA History Series .

NASA SP-4406 (Washington, D.C . : National

Aeronautics and Space Administration,

1989), p. 63 .

41 . Berger, TheAirForce in Space, FY62,p. 9.

42 . Ibid., pp . 19-20.

31 3
NASA, pp. 217-225. The two sides settled the

range dispute through an agreement of

14 January 1963, but the reimbursement

issue dragged on for six years

45 . For data on the Samos program, see

Jonathan McDowell, "US Reconnaissance

Satellite Programs. Part I : Photoreconnaissance," Quest (Summer 1995): 22 -33 .

Despite continued Air Force concerns in the

196os about a possible Soviet orbiting weapon threat, detente became the order of the

day and a sense of urgency about Soviet

space threats diminished .

46 . Testimony of DoD Comptroller

Charles J . Hitch, quoted in Levine, Managing NASA, p. 217.

47. DoD Directive 516o .32, "Development

of Space Systems," 6 March 1961 .

48 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 70-71.

49 . Ibid.

5o. For coverage of Titan III development,

see Berger, TheAirForce in Space, FY62,

pp. 43-53, and Robert F. Piper, History of the

Titan III, 1961-1963. Vol.1, AFSC Historical

Publications Series 64-22-1 (Washington,

D.C . : Air Force Systems Command, Space

Systems Division, June 1964) . The new,

rigorous review process in the McNamara

Pentagon was part of the comprehensive

Planning, Programming, Budgeting System

management procedures adopted by DoD.

51 . Berger, TheAirForce in Space, FY62,

P. 45 . Although involved in a variety of

important projects as Assistant Secretary of

the Air Force, Brockway McMillan's most

important responsibility involved his position as Director of the National Reconnaissance Office.

52 . Ibid.

53 . Ibid., pp. 45-53. The Titan IIIA comprised a basic Titan II with transtage capable

of launching a 5,8ooo-pound payload into a

314

rockets designed to place a 25,ooo-pound

payload into low earth orbit.

54 .

Ibid ., PP 50-51.

55. Report to the Congress from the

President of the United States, United States

Aeronautics and Space Activities, 1962,

(Washington, D.C : National Aeronautics

and Space Council, 1963), p. 33.

56. Cantwell, TheAir Force in Space, Fiscal

Year 1964, pp . 21-23; Gen Bernard A. Schriever,

et al, Reflections on Research and Development

in the United States Air Force, Jacob Neufeld,

ed . (Washington, D.C . : Center for Air Force

History, 1993), PP. 72-73 .

57 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY 62,

PP. 77 -78 ; Stares, Militarization of Space, p. 79 .

58 . The most comprehensive analysis of

the three initiatives is found in the critique

by Launor F. Carter, Chief Scientist of the

Air Force. See Launor E Carter, An Interpretive Study of the Formulation of theAir

Force Space Plan, (Washington, D.C. : Headquarters USAF, 4 February 1963), SAMSO

Archives .

59. Memorandum, Secretary of Defense

to Secretary of the Air Force, subj : The Air

Force Manned Military Space Program,

23 February 1962 .

6o . Presentation, Address to Space Technical Objectives Group by Lt Gen Howell M.

Estes, Jr., DCAS, Los Angeles California,

16 April 1962. Nineteen separate Air Force

or Air Force related organizations were

represented in the Estes-directed effort.

61. Briefing, SSD, "Briefing on Task Group

Capabilities vs Space Plan Objectives,"

1 June 1962, SAMSO Archives ; Carter, Formulation of theAir Force Space Plan, pp. 3-5.

62 . The remaining programs listed are:

Lifting Body Re-entry Vehicle, Manned

Hypersonic Test Vehicle, Manned Maneuverable Spacecraft, Strategic Earth Orbiting

Base, Space Logistic Support System,
System, Orion, and Nuclear Rocket . Moreover, only MODS and Blue Gemini repre

sented newprograms, and neither received

funding approval . See Carter, Formulation of

the Air Force Space Plan, pp. 5-12 ; Memorandum, Secretary of the Air Force to Secretary

of Defense, subj : Five Year Space Program,

9 November 1962; Col N. C. Appold, AFSC/

STP to Col K. W. Schultz, DCS/DevPlanning,

subj : Data for Section I of USAF Five-Year

Space Program, 27 August 1962 ; Briefing,

AFSC Task Group, "Status Briefing, USAF

5 Year Space Program," 2o August 1962 ;

Briefing, SSD/SSEH, "Briefing for Dr. Launor

F. Carter. Evolution of the 5 Year Space Program," 27 November 1962 ; Briefing, SSD,

"USAF Five Year Space Program Briefing,"

September 1962; Briefing, SSD, "USAF Five

Year Space Program Briefing, AFSC Recommended Program," September 1962, SAMSO

Archives, AF Space Program, 1962-63.

63 . USAF Space Plan (Draft Working

Paper), Revised July 1962 .

64 . The stated requirements were: strategic earth orbital base, strategic aerospace

vehicle (aerospace plane), unmanned space

reconnaissance system, manned space reconnaissance system, ballistic missile interceptor, space surveillance-missile detection,

aerospace surveillance and warning system,

space surveillance-satellite inspection,

satellite interceptor system, command control, earth based, communications satellites,

space logistic support system, astro tug.

Ibid., pp. 30-34; Carter, Formulation of the

Air Force Space Plan, pp. 2-3; Paper, SSD,

"Preliminary Remarks on Military Technical

Objectives in Space for use by the Systems

Requirements Panel of the Technical

Objectives Task Group (AFSC)," 2 May 1962.

65. Carter, Formulation of the Air Force

Space Plan, pp. 13-15 .

66 . The National Aeronautics and Space

67. Levine, Managing NASA, pp. 211-214.

68 . NASA Data Book, table 3-26 .

69 . House Report, Government Operations in Space, pp. 65-67; Levine, Managing

NASA, pp . 217-221. The extensive AF/DoDNASA organizational interfaces are described

in House Report, NASA-DoD Relationship.

Descriptions of formal agreements are

found in House Report, Government

Operations in Space, pp. 123-133.

70. Increased cooperation between the

Air Force and NASA is described in Gerald T.

Cantwell, TheAir Force in Space, Fiscal Year

1964, Vol. SHO-S-67/52 (Washington, D.C .:

USAF Historical Division Liaison Office,

June 1967), pp. 8-14. Early in 1964 at NASA's

request, Air Force Brig Gen Samuel C.

Phillips received responsibility for managing

Project Apollo as NASA's Deputy Director of

the Apollo Program.

71 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY 62,

PP. 36 - 41 .

72 . Air Force Space Plan (Draft),

September 1961, pp. 36-37.

73 . Presentation, Statement by Lt Gen

James Ferguson, Deputy Chief of Staff,

Research & Technology, USAF, before the

House Committee on Armed Services,

February 1962, SAMSO Archives; Berger, The

Air Force in Space, FY 62, p. 40 .

74 . Maj Timothy D. Killebrew, Military

Man in Space: A History ofAirForce Efforts to

Find a Manned Space Mission. Air Command and Staff College Report No. 87-1425

(Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press,

1987), pp. 25-26; Stares, Militarization of

Space, p. 79 ; Berger, The Air Force in Space,

FY 62, pp. 41-42; Cantwell, The Air Force in

Space, Fiscal Year 1964, pp. 15-16; Jeffrey T.

Richelson, America's Secret Eyes in Space

(New York : Harper Collins, 19go), pp . 83-84;

Barton C. Hacker and James M. Grimwood,

On the Shoulders of Titans : AHistory of

31 5
1977), PP. 117-122.

75 . Levine, Managing NASA, pp. 230-231;

W. Fred Boone, NASA Office of Defense

Affairs, The First Five Years, December 1, 1962,

to January 1, 1968, Historical Division, Office

of Policy (Washington, D.C. : NASA, December 1970), pp. 83-87; Killebrew, Military Man

in Space, pp. 25-26.

76 . Boone, The First Five Years, pp. 83-87;

House Report, Government Operations in

Space, pp. 84-85,129; Cantwell, The Air Force

in Space, Fiscal Year 1964, pp. 15-16.

77 . Boone, The First Five Years, pp. 83-87.

78 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 86-87; U.S . Senate, Hearing

before the Subcommittee of the Committee

on Appropriations, Department of Defense

Appropriations for 1964, 88th Congress, 1st

Session, 24 April 1963 .

79 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 85-88.

8o . Maj Barkley G. Sprague, USAF,

Evolution of the Missile DefenseAlarm System

(MIDAS) 1955-1982, Report No. 85-2580

(Maxwell AFB, AL: Air Command and Staff

College, 1985), pp. 15-19 . For discussion of

the MIDAS program, see Chapter 4.

81 . Ibid., pp . 78-8o; Stares, Militarization

of Space, pp. 71-82; Report to the Congress

from the President of the United States,

United States Aeronautics and Space Activities, 1963, pp. 39-6o; Report to the Congress

from the President of the United States,

United States Aeronautics and Space Activities, 1964, pp. 41-67

82 . U.S . House, Committee on Armed

Services, Hearings on Military Posture, 88th

Congress, 1st Session, January-February

1963, PP. 467, 471.

83 . Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, Fiscal

Year 1964, p. 24 .

84 . Levine, Managing NASA, pp. 231-232.

85 . Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, Fiscal

31 6

Years, pp. 88-93.

87. Ibid.

88 . Boone, The First Five Years, pp . 88-93.

89 . Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, Fiscal

Year 1964, pp. 16-18.

9o . Ibid. ; Boone, The First Five Years,

PP. 94-96.

91 . Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, Fiscal

Year 1964, p. 18 . ASSET provided the acronym

for the Aerothermodynamic/Elastic Structural Systems Environmental Test program .

Launched by single-stage THOR boosters,

ASSET non-orbiting, unmanned, glidereentry vehicles conducted a broad range

of reentry experiments.

92. Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, Fiscal

Year 1964, pp . 18-20.

93 . Ibid ., pp . 25-28; Levine, Managing

NASA, p. 232; Killebrew, Military Man in

Space, pp. 22-24; House Report, Government Operations in Space, pp. 87-88. Dyna

Soar received the X-2o designation on

26 June 1962 .

94 .

Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, Fiscal

Year 1964, pp. 28-30.

95 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 88-89; Report to the Congress

from the President of the United States,

United States Aeronautics and SpaceActivities,

1963, pp . 41-42; Killebrew, Military Man in

Space, pp. 27-28.

96 . Quoted in House Report, Government

Operations in Space, pp. 88-89.

97 . Ibid. Because the space station could

not change orbit, its reconnaissance and

surveillance capability was limited to objects

when in view.

98 . Boone, The First Five Years, pp. 97-99;

House Report, Government Operations in

Space, pp. 88-89.

99 . Levine, Managing NASA, pp. 232-233;

Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, Fiscal Year

1964, p. 21.
tot . Ibid.

102 . House Report, Government Operations

in Space, pp. 88-89; Killebrew, Military Man in

Space, pp. 27-28 ; Richelson, America's Secret

Eyes in Space, pp. 84-86, 90-92 .

103 . Richelson, America's Secret Eyes in

Space, pp. 84-86, 90-92 . For a listing of the

specific experiments, see Killebrew, Military

Man in Space, pp. 31-33 .

104. Richelson, America's Secret Eyes in

Space, pp. 90-92; Killebrew, Military Man in

Space, pp. 31-33 ; Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas,

Concepts, Doctrine: Basic Thinking in the

United States Air Force, 1961 -1984, Vol . 11

(Maxwell Air Force Base, AL: Air University

Press, December 1989), p. 681 (hereafter

cited as Futrell, Ideas, 1961-1984) See also

The Aerospace Corporation, The Aerospace

Corporation : Its Work: i96o-198o (Los

Angeles: Times Mirror Press, 198o), pp. 87-89.

105 . Cantwell, TheAir Force in Space,

Fiscal Year 1964, pp. 1-5 .

1o6 . Ibid., p. 5 .

107. Ibid., pp. 5-6 . Schriever's comments

are found in Gen Bernard A. Schriever, et al,

Reflections on Research and Development in

the United States Air Force, Jacob Neufeld,

ed . (Washington, D.C . : Center for Air Force

History, 1993), pp 72-73 . For the general impact of Project Forecast on Air Force scientific development, see Michael H. Gorn,

Harnessing the Genie: Science and Technology

Forecasting for the Air Force, 1944-1986. Air

Staff Historical Study (Washington, D.C . :

Office of Air Force History, 1988), pp. 87-130 .

1o8 . Boone, The First Five Years, pp. 97-103 .

1o9 . Futrell, Ideas, 1961 1984, pp. 681-682 ;

Richelson, America's Secret Eyes in Space,

pp 88-92 ; Killebrew, Military Man in Space,

PP 31 - 33 ; Stares, Militarization of Space,

p. 98 . Harold Brown moved from DDR&E

to become Secretary of the Air Force in

October 1965 .

pp. 101103 ; Killebrew, Military Man in

Space, pp. 34-39 ; Stares, Militarization of

Space, pp. 98-99 .

1n. Levine, Managing NASA, pp. 234-235 ;

House Report, Government Operations in

Space, pp. 88-91 ; Futrell, Ideas, 1961-1984,

pp. 682-683; Richelson, America's Secret Eyes

in Space, pp. 101-103 ; Killebrew, Military Man

in Space, pp. 34- 39 ; Stares, Militarization of

Space, pp. 98-99 NASA began with an ambitious post-Apollo space station concept

similar to DDR&E's choice in late 1963, but

ended with Skylab, a mini orbiting space

station similar to the Air Force's MOLthat

would involve experiments with three

astronauts in 1973 -74 .

112. Futrell, Ideas, i96i-1984, pp 682-683;

Richelson, America's Secret Eyes in Space,

pp. 101-103 ; Killebrew, Military Man in

Space, pp. 34 -39; Stares, Militarization of

Space, pp. 98 - 99.

113 . Quoted in Stares, Militarization of

Space, pp. 159-16o.

114 . Quoted in Futrell, Ideas, 196i-1984,

p. 683 . According to Richelson, Laird did

not take part in the initial decision to cancel

the MOL. Rather, that decision involved

President Nixon, National Security Advisor

Henry Kissinger, and Robert Mayo, Bureau

of the Budget director-with the support of

CIA Director Richard Helms, whose agency

considered manned reconnaissance platforms potentially intolerable to the Soviets.

Laird opposed canceling the MOL. See

Richelson, America's Secret Eyes in Space,

pp. 102-103 .

115 . Futrell, Ideas, 1961 -1984, p. 683 ;

Richelson, America's Secret Eyes in Space,

p. 103 . After spending nearly $8 billion over

a twenty year period, the Vandenberg space

shuttle and launch complex, known as SLC6, was "abandoned in place." For discussion

of the Vandenberg project, see Roger G.

31 7
tion of Shuttle Launch FacilitiesSpaceflight,

Vol 36 (October 1994), PP. 354-357; Roger G.

Guillemette, "Vandenberg: Space Shuttle

Launch and Landing Site: Part 2-Abandoned in Place" Spaceflight, Vol 36 (November 1994), PP. 378 -381.

n6 . Killebrew, Military Man in Space, P. 36

117. Futrell, Ideas, 1961-1984, p. 683.

118. Maj John B. Hungerford, Jr .,

Organization forMilitary Space: A Historical

Perspective. Air Command and Staff College

Report 82-1235 (Maxwell APB, AL. : Air

University Press, 1982), pp. 47-49; John T.

Greenwood, "The Air Force Ballistic Missile

and Space Program (1954-1974)," Aerospace

Historian 21 (Winter 1974):199 . Although the

Air Staff on 16 January 1967 created a new

agency to provide a focus for developing

space policy and plans, its responsibilities

Chapter 4. From the Ground Up

1 . The Aerospace Corporation, The

Aerospace Corporation: Its Work: 196o-i98o

(Los Angeles: Times Mirror Press, i98o),

p. 46 (hereafter cited as AerospaceCorp) . See

also David Spires and Rick W. Sturdevant,

"From Advent to Milstar: The United States

Air Force and the Challenges of Military

Satellite Communications," in Proceedings of

the NASA Conference . Beyond the Ionosphere:

The Development of Satellite Communications

(Washington, D.C . : NASA, 1996).

2. Ibid. ; Maj Robert E. Lee, History of the

Defense Satellite Communications System

(1964-1986). Air Command and Staff College

Report No. 87-1545 (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air

University Press, 1987), pp. 1-4 (hereafter

cited as Lee, History of DSCS); David K. van

Keuren, "Moon in Their Eyes : Moon Communication Relay (MCR) at the Naval Research Laboratory, 1951-1962," in Proceedings

of the NASA Conference . Beyond the Ionosphere: The Developmentof Satellite Commu31 8

remained the sensitive national reconnaissance program, while other Air Force

agencies either retained or acquired a

portion of space systems responsibilities .

See Gerald T. Cantwell, The Air Force in

Space, Fiscal Year 1967, Part I (Washington,

D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison

Office, May1970), pp. 5-6. See also Rick W.

Sturdevant, "The United States Air Force

Organizes for Space: The Operational

Quest," in Organizing for the Use of Space:

Historical Perspectives on a Persistent Issue,

ed . Roger D. Launius (San Diego, CA:

American Astronautical Society, 1995).

119. Futrell, Ideas, 1961-1984, pp . 684-686.

The role of the Space Shuttle in Air Force

space developments is examined in Chapter 5 .

120. Futrell, Ideas, 1961-1984, p. 683.

nications (Washington, D.C . : NASA, 1996) .

3. Carl Berger, The Air Force in Space,

Fiscal Year 1961, Vol. SHO-S-66/142 (Washington, D.C .: USAF Historical Division

Liaison Office, April 1966), pp. 84-93;

AerospaceCorp, pp . 47-49; Lee, History of

DSCS, pp. 5-8.

4. AerospaceCorp, pp. 47-49; Lee, History

ofDSCS, pp. 5-8, Berger, The Air Force in

Space, FY61, pp. 84-93.

5. AerospaceCorp, p. 48 .

6. Carl Berger, The Air Force in Space,

Fiscal Year 1962, Vol. SHO-S-66/198 (Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division

Liaison Office, June 1966), pp. 61-70.

7. Berger, TheAir Force in Space, FY62,

pp. 65-68; AerospaceCorp, pp. 48-52.

8. Military and commercial capabilities

would not share the same satellite until the

Navy contracted with COMSAT in 1973 for

"Gapfiller" service pending completion of

its FLTSATCOM system . See Michael Kinsley,
(NewYork: John Wiley & Sons, 1976),

pp. 199-200 ; Anthony Michael Tedeschi,

Live Via Satellite: The Story ofCOMSAT and

the Technology that Changed World Communication (Washington, D.C . : Acropolis

Books, 1989), p. 150 ; Martin, Communication

Satellites, 1958-1992, pp. 104-105, 183-186 .

9 . AerospaceCorp, pp. 48-52 ; Lee, History

ofDSCS, pp. 8-1o ; U.S. House, Committee on

Government Operations, Government Operations in Space (Analysis of Civil-Military

Roles and Relationships), House Report No.

445, 89th Congress, Ist Session, 4 June 1965,

PP- 78 - 79 .

1o . Gerald T.Cantwell, The Air Force in

Space, Fiscal Year 1964, Vol. SHO-S-67/52

(Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division

Liaison Office, June 1967), pp. 69-76 ; Gerald

TCantwell, The Air Force in Space, Fiscal

Year 1965, Vol . SHO-S-68/186 (Washington,

D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison

Office, April 1968), pp. 42-51 ; AerospaceCorp,

PP. 48- 52 ; Thomas Karas, The New High

Ground (New York: Simon and Schuster,

1983) P. 73 .

n. Lee, History ofDSCS, pp. 10-13 ;

AerospaceCorp, p 51 .

12 . Lee, History of DSCS, pp. 10-13 ; AerospaceCorp, pp. 50-52 ; Chronology, AFSC/

Space Division, Space and Missile Systems

Organization : A Chronology, 19541979 (Los

Angeles, CA: Space Systems Division, n.d .),

pp. 173-174, 176, 182,193 (hereafter cited as

SAMSO Chronology) .

13 . Lee, History ofDSCS, pp. 13-14 ; AerospaceCorp, pp. 50-52 ; Horace Jacobs and

Eunice Engelke Whitney, Missile and Space

Projects Guide 1962 (New York: Plenum

Press, 1962), pp. 190-191

14. Lee, History of DSCS, pp. n-13 .

15 . Lee, History ofDSCS, PP. 13-14; AerospaceCorp, pp. 52-55 ; Thomas Karas, The

New High Ground: Strategies and Weapons of

16 . Lee, History of DSCS, pp. 15

21 ; Aero

spaceCorp, pp. 55 - 57; Karas, The New High

Ground, pp. 75-76 ; Jacob Neufeld, The Air

Force in Space, 1970-1974 (Washington, D.C. :

Office of Air Force History, August 1976),

PP. 15-19 .

17. Lee, History ofDSCS, pp. 15-21; AerospaceCorp, pp. 55 -57 ; Karas, The New High

Ground, pp. 75-76 ; Neufeld, The Air Force in

Space, 1970-1974, PP. 15 -19 .

18 . Lee, History of DSCS, pp. 15-28 ; AerospaceCorp, pp. 55 - 57; Karas, The New High

Ground, pp. 75-76 ; Neufeld, The Air Force in

Space, 197o-1974, pp. 15-19; Donald H.

Martin, Communication Satellites, 1958-1992

(El Segundo, CA: Aerospace Corporation,

1991), pp. 100-102 .

19 . AerospaceCorp, p. 59 ; Neufeld, TheAir

Force in Space, 1970-1974, pp. 19-23 .

20 . AerospaceCorp, p. 59 ; Neufeld, The Air

Force in Space, 1970-1974, pp. 19-23 ; SAMSO

Chronology, pp. 154,187 - 188,194 .

21 . AerospaceCorp, p. 59 ; Neufeld, TheAir

Force in Space, 1970-1974, pp. 19-23-

22. AerospaceCorp, p. 59 ; Neufeld, The Air

Force in Space, 1970-1974, pp. 19-23 ; SAMSO

Chronology, p. 196 .

23 . AerospaceCorp, pp. 59-61 ; Neufeld, The

Air Force in Space, 19701974, pp. 19-23 ;

Karas, The New High Ground, pp. 76-77 .

24. Project RAND, Preliminary Design of

an Experimental World-Circling Spaceship

(Santa Monica, CA: Douglas Aircraft Co,

2 May 1946), Introduction, p. 11.

25 . A good, concise background sketch is

found in AerospaceCorp, pp. 73-74 .

26 . Maj Michael D. Abel, History of the

Defense Meteorological Satellite Program:

Origin Through 1982 . Air Command and

Staff College Report No. 87-0020 (Maxwell

AFB, AL: Air University Press, 1987), pp. 3 - 5,

(hereafter cited as Abel, History of DMSP) .

The Nimbus satellite weighed 650 pounds.

31 9
night pictures for the first time . Between

1964 and 1978, the space agency launched

seven Nimbus satellites, which provided a

24-hour observation capability. See Jacobs

and Whitney, Missile and Space Projects

Guide 1962, p. 121; Roger D. Launius, NASA:

AHistory of the U.S Civil Space Program

(Malabar, FL : Krieger Publishing Company,

1994), P. 130.

27. Abel, History of DMSP, pp. 3 -5, 1 9- 20;

AerospaceCorp, pp. 73-74. Although an

additional declassification decision in 1975

released more information, much of DMSP's

early development remained classified .

28 . Neufeld, The Air Force in Space, 1970-

1974, pp. 27- 30 .

29 . Ibid. ; AerospaceCorp, p. 74 ; Abel,

History ofDMSP, pp. 31-38.

30 . Neufeld, The Air Force in Space, 197o1974, pp. 27 -30 ; AerospaceCorp, pp . 74-77;

Abel, History of DMSP, pp. 31-38. Meanwhile

the Air Force continued to support NASA's

Nimbus ("Observer") satellites with booster

and range support.

31 . Maj Dennis L. Alford, History of the

Navstar Global Positioning System (1963-

1985), Air Command and Staff College

Report No. 86-0050 (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air

University Press, 1986), pp. 1-3, (hereafter

cited as Alford, History ofNavstar/GPS) ;

AerospaceCorp, pp. 63-64; The Aerospace

Corporation, The Global Positioning System .

A Record ofAchievement (Los Angeles, CA:

The Aerospace Corporation, 1994), pp. 3-4

(hereafter cited as AeroCorp/GPS); Ivan A.

Getting, "The Global Positioning System,"

IEEE Spectrum, December 1993, PP. 36 -37.

Also see Karas, The New High Ground,

pp. 124- 134.

32 . Alford, History of Navstar/GPS, pp. 2-4;

AerospaceCorp, pp. 63-64; AeroCorp/GPS,

pp . 5-6; Getting, "The Global Positioning

System," PP. 37- 38 .

320

34 .

Alford, History of Navstar/GPS, pp. 4-

8; AerospaceCorp, pp. 64-65; AeroCorp/GPS,

pp. 6-8; Getting, "The Global Positioning

System," pp. 38-39; Neufeld, The Air Force in

Space, 1970-1974, pp. 24-27. Planners also referred to the project as the Defense Navigation Satellite System (DNSS).

35 . Alford, History ofNavstar/GPS, Pp. 4-8;

AerospaceCorp, pp. 64-65; AeroCorp/GPS,

pp. 6-8; Getting, "The Global Positioning

System," pp. 38-44; Neufeld, The Air Force in

Space, 1970-1974 pp. 24-27.

36 . Alford, History of Navstar/GPS, pp. 4-

8; AerospaceCorp, pp. 64-67; AeroCorp/GPS,

pp. 6-9; Getting, "The Global Positioning

System," pp. 38-44; Neufeld, The Air Force

in Space, 1970-1974, pp . 24-27.

37 . 1 am indebted to R. Cargill Hall for

use of his unpublished article, "The Air

Force in Space," May 1984 .

38 . As Hall points out, the reconnaissance

satellites initially embraced photographic

requirements through low-resolution area

cameras, which developed film on board

and radioed the results to read-out stations

on earth, and high resolution or so-called

"close-look" cameras, whose film capsules

were sent earthward by means of reentry

capsules for ocean recovery. Hall, "The Air

Force in Space," pp. 6-7. For an unclassified

account of the nation's space reconnaissance

effort, see Jeffrey T. Richelson, America's

Secret Eyes in Space (NewYork: Harper

Collins, 1990) ; CORONA Program Profile,

Lockheed Press Release, 24 May 1995

39 . It should be noted that the Air Force

also conducted operations involving electronic surveillance with so-called ferret

satellites . These spacecraft would record

radio and radar frequencies and transmit

to earth from 3oo-mile altitude polar orbits .

They proved especially valuable for determining the operational status of various
40. AerospaceCorp, p. 69 .

41 . AerospaceCorp, pp. 69-70 Vela is

Spanish for "watchman" and Hotel signified

the participating agencies : ARPA, AEC, USAF.

See Hall, "The Air Force in Space," pp. 9-io .

42 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY61,

pp 102-103 ; Berger, The Air Force in Space,

FY6z, pp. 1o6-107 ; Cantwell, The Air Force in

Space, FY64, pp. 87-88; AerospaceCorp,

PP. 70-71 .

43 . Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, FY65,

pp. 81-83 ; AerospaceCorp, pp. 70-71 .

44. AerospaceCorp, pp. 70-71 ; Neufeld,

The Air Force in Space, 197o-1974, pp. 41-42 ;

Hall, "The Air Force in Space," pp. 9-io .

45 . Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, FY64,

p. 51 ; Alec Galloway, "A Decade of US

Reconnaissance Satellites," International

Defense Review, June 1972, pp 249-253 .

46 . Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY61,

PP. 44- 48

47 . Ibid. With the March 1961 reorganization, the Space Division assumed planning

responsibilities for MIDAS.

48. Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY6z,

PP. 72-82 .

49. Ibid.

50 . Ibid.

51 . Ibid. The "other" available early

warning system was the Over-the- HorizonBackscatter (OTH-B) radar that, despite its

potential, would experience considerable

deployment delays because of technical

challenges .

52 . Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, FY64,

PP. 51 - 59 .

53 . Ibid.

54 . Ibid.

55 . Ibid

56 . Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, FY65,

pp. 36-39 ; Curtis Peebles, High Frontier : The

United States Air Force and the Military Space

p

1974, PP 31 - 40.

58 . Ibid. The politically sensitive Woomera

site soon prompted officials to consider

alternatives elsewhere .

59 . Ibid. ; Galloway, "A Decade of US

Reconnaissance Satellites," pp. 249 - 253 .

6o . Neufeld, The Air Force in Space, 197o1974, pp. 31-40 ; Galloway, "A Decade of US

Reconnaissance Satellites," pp. 249-253 .

61 . Chronology, AFSPACECOM/HO, Space

Detection and Tracking: A Chronology, 1957-

1983 ; Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY6i,

pp. 76-83 ; Rick W. Sturdevant, "The United

States Air Force Organizes for Space: The

Operational Quest," in Organizing for the

Use ofSpace: Historical Perspectives on a

Persistent Issue, ed. Roger D. Launius (San

Diego, CA: American Astronautical Society,

1995) PP. 172-174 . The NORAD Combat

Operations Center became operational in

April 1966 .

62 . Chronology, AFSPACECOM/HO, Space

Detection and Tracking: A Chronology, 1957-

1983 ; Berger, The Air Force in Space, FY61,

PP. 76 - 83 .

63. Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, FY65,

pp. 71-75 ; Aerospace Defense: A Chronology of

Key Events, 1945 -i99o (Peterson AFB, CO:

AFSPACECOM/HO, 1991) ;

64 . Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, FY65,

pp. 71-75 ; Aerospace Defense: A Chronology of

Key Events; Chronology, AFSPACECOM/HO,

Space Detection and Tracking: A Chronology,

1957-1983 .

65 . Cantwell, The Air Force in Space, FY65,

pp. 71-75 ; Aerospace Defense: A Chronology of

Key Events; Chronology, AFSPACECOM/HO,

Space Detection and Tracking. A Chronology,

1957-1983; Peebles, High Frontier: The United

States Air Force and the Military Space

Program, pp. 32-34 .

66. AerospaceCorp, p. 95 .

321
and Staff College, Space Handbook (Maxwell

AFB, AL: Air University, 1977), Chapter 6; Air

Force Space Command, "Titan" (Peterson

AFB, CO: AFSPC/HO, n.d .) .

68 . AerospaceCorp, pp. 95-96, too-113;

Hall, "The Air Force in Space," pp. 16-21; Air

Command and Staff College, Space Handbook (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University,

1977), Chapter 6; James Baar and William E.

Howard, Spacecraft and Missiles of the World,

1962 (New York : Harcourt, Brace &World,

Inc., 1962), p. 33 .

69. AerospaceCorp, pp. 104-113.

70 Ibid.

71 . Ibid; Air Force Space Command,

"Titan" (Peterson AFB, CO: AFSPC/HO, n.d .) .

72 . Ibid.

73 . Ibid., pp. 117-119; Memorandum,

Patrick AFB, FL/OI, subj : The Eastern Test

Range, September, 1969 .

74 . AerospaceCorp, pp. 117-119; Memorandum, Patrick AFB, FL/01, subj : The Eastern

Test Range, September, 1969 ; Hall, "The Air

Force in Space," pp. 21-22.

75 . AerospaceCorp, pp. 120-121; Hall, "The

Air Force in Space," pp. 21-22.

76 . AerospaceCorp, pp. 123-127; Hall, "The

Air Force in Space," pp. 22-27; AFSC/SCFHO,

Air Force Satellite Control Facility : Historical

Briefand Chronology, i954-Present (Sunnyvale, CA: AFSPF/HO, n.d .) (hereafter cited as

SCF Chronology) .

77 . AerospaceCorp, pp. 123-127; Hall, "The

Air Force in Space," pp. 22-27; SCF Chronology.

78 . AerospaceCorp, pp. 123-127; Hall, "The

Air Force in Space," pp . 22-27; SCF Chronology.

79 . AerospaceCorp, pp . 123-127; Hall, "The

Air Force in Space,"pp. 22-27; SCF Chronology.

8o . AerospaceCorp, pp . 123-127; Hall, "The

Air Force in Space,"pp. 22-27; SCF Chronology.

81 . Rick W. Sturdevant, "The United

States Air Force Organizes for Space: The

Operational Quest," in Organizing for the

322

Diego, CA: American 

y,

1995), PP. 172-175;

Maj John B. Hungerford.,

Jr ., Organization for Military Space: A

Historical Perspective, Report No. 82-1235

(Maxwell AFB, AL: Air Command and Staff

College, 1982), pp. 46-47 (hereafter cited as

Hungerford, Organization for Military

Space) . In the next decade the launch sites

themselves were placed directly under SSD's

successor SAMSO.

82 . Rick W. Sturdevant, "The United

States Air Force Organizes for Space: The

Operational Quest," in Organizing for the

Use of Space: Historical Perspectives on a

Persistent Issue, ed . Roger D. Launius (San

Diego, CA: American Astronautical Society,

1995), PP. 172-175;

Hungerford, Organization

for Military Space, pp. 46-49; SCF Chronology.

83 . Maj Ernie R. Dash and Maj Walter D.

Meyer, "The Meteorological Satellite: An

Invaluable Tool for the Military DecisionMaker," Air University Review, Vol. xxix, No.

3 (March-April 1978), p. 13 .

84 . Henry WBrandli, "The Use of

Meteorological Satellites in Southeast Asia

Operations," Aerospace Historian, Vol. 29,

No. 3 (September 1982), pp. 172-175; Gen

William W. Momyer, Air Power in Three

Wars (Washington, D.C. : Office of Air Force

History, 1978), pp. 228-231; Neufeld, The Air

Force in Space, 1970-1974, pp. 27-28.

85 . Lt Col John J . Lane, Jr ., Commandand

Control and Communications Structures in

SoutheastAsia (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air

University, 1981), pp. 113-114. The DoD quest

for inexpensive SATCOM during the

Vietnam War gave rise to the "30 circuits"

episode. When several carriers learned in

summer 1966 that COMSAT Corporation

intended to lease 30 circuits directly to DoD,

in direct violation of the FCC's recently

promulgated Authorized Users decision,

they formally protested. In February 1967,
yg , , 

FCC required COMSAT Corporation to sell

the circuits to the carriers at $3,800 . See

Michael Kinsley, Outer Space and Inner

Sanctums : Government, Business, and

Satellite Communication (New York : John

1 . Paul B. Stares, The Militarization of

Space : U.S . Policy, 1945-1984 (Ithica, NY:

Cornell University Press, 1985), p. 176 ;

Walter A. McDougall, . . . the Heavens and the

Earth : A Political History of the Space Age

(New York: Basic Books, 1985), pp. 421-422 .

2 . Robert Kipp, AFSPACECOM/HO,

"Trends in Military Space: Organizational

Growth and Maturity," 30-31 May 1990.

3 DOD Directive 5160 .32, "Development

of Space Systems," 8 September 1970 .

4. Gen Jacob E. Smart, "Strategic Implications of Space Activities," Strategic Review

(Fall 1974), pp. 19-21 .

5 . Working Paper, AF/XO, "Outline for

`White Paper' on Space Management and

Planning Initiatives," n.d. [September 1978] .

6. For a detailed discussion of the Soviet

buildup and comparison of American and

Soviet nuclear arsenals, see the yearly issues

of The Military Balance, especially The

Military Balance, 1975-1976 (London: The

International Institute of Strategic Studies,

1975) PP. 3 -4, 73, and Lawrence Freedman,

US Intelligence and the Soviet Strategic Threat

(Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1977) . The

number of American launchers had remained constant since 1967 at 1,054 ICBMs

and 656 SLBMs. By contrast, in 1967 the

Soviet inventory consisted of 460 ICBMs and

130 SLBMs. These figures, to be sure, do not

reflect evolving capabilities in terms of missile size, range, throw-weight, and MIRY

technology. Characteristic of concern by

American officials about the Soviet build-up

,

PP. 113 - 114; Kinsley, Outer Space and Inner

Sanctums, pp. 6o-62 .

87 . DOD Directive 5160 .32, "Development

of Space Systems," 8 September 1970 .

Chapter S. Organizing for Space

is Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird's

comment in early 1970 warning of the "continuing rapid expansion of Soviet strategic

offensive forces ." Quoted in Freedman, US

Intelligence and the Soviet Strategic Threat,

p. 153 . Such worries continued unabated

through the decade .

7 . Freedman, US Intelligence and the Soviet

Strategic Threat, pp. 129-168.

8 Report of Secretary of Defense James

R. Schlesinger to the Congress on the

FY 1976 and FY 1977T (transition) Budgets,

5 February 1975 (Washington: Government

Printing Office, 1975), PP. I-13,14;11-1 to 11-

11 ; II-18

9. John Newhouse, War and Peace in the

Nuclear Age (New York: Alfred A. Knopf,

1989), P. 233 .

1o . For discussion of SALT I and the ABM

treaty, see John Newhouse, Cold Dawn: The

Story of SALT (New York: Holt, Rinehart and

Winston, 1973) . Both agreements are reproduced in full in the appendix, pp. 273-281.

Also see Newhouse, War and Peace in the

Nuclear Age, pp. 209-265; Freedman, US

Intelligence and the Soviet Strategic Threat,

pp. 166-168 .

u. Owen E. Jensen, "The Years of Decline:

Air Defense from 1960 to 1980," in Stephen

J. Cimbala, ed ., Strategic Air Defense (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Books, 1989),

PP. 40-41 .

12 . Summary Report, Joint DoD/NASA

Study ofSpace Transportation Systems,

16 June 1969 ; Jacob Neufeld, The Air Force in

323
McDougall, . . . the Heavens and the Earth,

p. 421 .

13 . Neufeld, The Air Force in Space, 197o1974, PP. 1-15 ; Roger D. Launius, "Toward an

Understanding of the Space Shuttle : A

Historiographical Essay," Air Power History

(Winter 1992), pp. 3-1o . As noted in Chapter

3, the Dyna-Soar, despite its multi-purpose

mission profile and reusable launch capability, fell victim in the early 196os to the triple

threat ofhigh costs, technical uncertainty,

and low priority. For a detailed treatment of

Shuttle development, see Dennis R. Jenkins,

Space Shuttle : The History ofDeveloping the

National Space Transportation System

(Marceline, Missouri : Walsworth Publishing

Company, 1993)

14 . Quoted in Robert Frank Futrell, Ideas,

Concepts, Doctrine : Basic Thinking in the

United States Air Force, 1961-1984, VOL 11

(Maxwell Air Force Base, AL: Air University

Press, December 1989), p. 685 (hereafter

cited as Futrell, Ideas, 1961-1984) . Later,

when officials canceled the payload retrieval

mission, the rationale for NASA's ambitious

annual flight schedule no longer applied .

15 . Roger D. Launius, "Toward an Understanding of the Space Shuttle : A Historiographical Essay," Air Power History (Winter

1992), pp 3-1o ; As Neufeld points out, the

Air Force supplied development costs in the

"token amount" of $4 million or less per

year from 1971 to 1974 . See Neufeld, The Air

Force in Space, 1970-1974, P. 3

16 . History, Space and Missile Systems

Organization, 1 July 1972-3o June 1973, pp.

201-2o6 ; Working Papers, DoD/DRE, "Space

and Space-Related Program Data, Fiscal

Years 1979-1986," March 1981, pp. 169-174 ;

Neufeld, The Air Force in Space, 197o-1974,

PP. 4-5- Lockheed's designer ofthe Space

Tug was Saunders B. Kramer.

17 . Neufeld, The Air Force in Space, 197o324

Space Policy (May 1986), pp. 103118 . In the

wake of the Challenger disaster, Logsdon

argues that NASA's focus on costs from the

beginning compromised crucial technology

and allowed budget priorities to degrade

the project .

18 . Logsdon, "The Decision to Develop

the Space Shuttle," pp. 103-118 ; Working

Papers, DoD/DRE, "Space and Space-Related

Program Data, Fiscal Years 1979-1986,"

March 1981, pp. 169-174 ; Neufeld, The Air

Force in Space, 197o-1974, pp. 8-9. In the

mid- 1970s, Shuttle planners predicted that

each Shuttle flight would cost $15 .4 million,

based on use of five orbiters and an average

of 6o flights yearly. By contrast, Titan IIIC

flight costs were estimated to average $35

million per flight . See GAO Report, "Issues

Concerning the Future of the Space Transportation System," GAO/MASAD-83-6, 28

December 1982, pp. i-iii ; Edgar Ulsamer,

"Space. High-Flying Yankee Ingenuity," Air

Force Magazine (September 1976), pp. 98-104.

19 . Neufeld, TheAir Force in Space, 197o1974, pp. 9-lo ; History, Space and Missile

Systems Organization, 1 July 1972-3o June

1973, pp. 201-2o6 . For discussion of the Vandenberg project, see Roger G. Guillemette,

"Vandenberg . Space Shuttle Launch and

Landing Site : Part 1-Construction of

Shuttle Launch Facilities" Spaceflight, Vol 36

(October 1994), PP. 354 - 357; Roger G.

Guillemette, "Vandenberg. Space Shuttle

Launch and Landing Site: Part 2-Abandoned in Place" Spaceflight, Vol 36 (November 1994), pp. 378 - 381 .

20. McDougall, . . .the Heavens and the

Earth, p. 423 .

21 . Neufeld, The Air Force in Space, 197o1974, pp. n-13 ; History, Space and Missile

Systems Organization, 1 July 1973-30 June

1975, PP. 16o-192 .

22 . History, Space and Missile Systems
23 . CINCNORAD to CSAF, subj : Operational Responsibility for Space Transportation System, 25 November 1974, w/atch,

Background Paper, "Operation of the Space

Transportation System"; Talking Paper,

ADCOM/XPDQ, "The Space Transportation

System (STS)," 26 April 1978 ; Neufeld, The

Air Force in Space, 197o-1974, pp 13-14.

24 . Col Morgan W. Sanborn, "National

Military Space Doctrine," Air University

Review, Vol. xxvii, No. 2, (January-February

1977), PP. 75 - 79 .

25 . Working Papers, DoD/DRE, "Space

and Space-Related Program Data, Fiscal

Years 1979-1986," March 1981, pp. 29-33;Maj

Robert E. Lee, History of the Defense Satellite

Communications System (1964-1986). Air

Command and Staff College Report No. 87-

1545 (Maxwell APB, AL: Air University Press,

1987) ; The Aerospace Corporation, The

Aerospace Corporation: Its Work: 196o-198o

(Los Angeles: Times Mirror Press, 198o),

pp . 56-57; Aeronautics and Space Report of

the President. 198o Activities (Washington,

D.C. : NASA, 1981), pp. 37 -38

26 . Working Papers, DoD/DRE, "Space and

Space-Related Program Data, Fiscal Years

1979 -1986," March 1981, pp. 145 - 149; Maj

Dennis L. Alford, History of the Navstar Global Positioning System (19631985). Air Command and Staff College Report No. 86-0050

(Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press, 1986);

Lt Col John F. Scheerer and Maj Joseph

Gassmann, "Navstar GPS: Past, Present, and

Future," The Navigator (Winter 1983) .

27 . Maj Barkley G. Sprague, Evolution

of the Missile Defense Alarm System (MIDAS)

1955-1982. Air Command and Staff College

Report No. 85-2580 (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air

University Press, 1985), pp . 27-33.

28 . Maj Michael D. Abel, History of the

Defense Meteorological Satellite Program:

Origin Through 1982 . Air Command and

6o . Abel describes specific problems encountered by each of the series 5D-1 satellites .

29 . Robert Kipp, "Background Paper on

Space Detection and Tracking System

(SPADATS)," 16 March 1988 ; AFSPACECOM/

HO, "Space Detection and Tracking: A

Chronology, 1957-1983," March 19go ; Col

James E. Strub and Col Thomas S.

Moorman, Jr., "Space Surveillance and Detection," Presentation before the American

Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics,

20-21 May 1982

30 . Maj John B. Hungerford, Jr., Organizationfor Military Space: AHistorical Perspective . Report No. 82-1235 (Maxwell AFB,

AL: Air Commandand Staff College, 1982),

PP. 57 - 64.

31 . For details on Project 437, see Wayne

R. Austerman, Program 437: The Air Force's

First Antisatellite System, AFSPACECOM/HO,

April 1991 ; Stares, Militarization of Space,

pp. 120-128; 201-209.

32 . Quoted in Stares, Militarization of

Space, p. 173.

33 . Memorandum, DDR&E to Asst SECAF/

R&E, subj : Space Surveillance Program

Planning, 2o April 1976; Talking Paper,

NORAD/XPDQ, "Space Defense," 1o June

1976 ; Memorandum, SECAF/R&D to

ODDR&E, subj : Plan for the Evolution of

Space Surveillance Capabilities, 1 June 1976,

Watch, Initial Report . The most important

studies included: A Study of Future Air Force

Space Policy and Objectives (Washington,

D.C. : Headquarters USAF, July 1977); Space

Missions Organizational Planning Study

(SMOPS) (Washington, D.C . : Headquarters

USAF, February 1979) ; USAF Scientific Advisory Board (SAB), TheAirForce in Space,

Summer Study (Washington, D.C. SAB,

August 198o); and Space Policy and Requirements Study (SPARS) (Washington, D.C . :

Headquarters USAF, May 1981)

325
et al, subj : Space Defense Working Group,

4 November 1976 .

35 . On the Carter administration and

defense, see Newhouse, War and Peace in the

Nuclear Age, pp. 292-332; Gregg Herken,

Counsels of War (New York : Alfred A. Knopf,

1985) pp. 279-302; Thomas Powers,

"Choosing a Strategy for World War III,"

The Atlantic Monthly (November 1982),

pp. 82-110 .

36 . On the "countervailing strategy," see

Department of Defense, Report of Defense

Secretary Harold Brown to the Congress on the

FY 1981 Budget, FY 1982 Authorization Request

and FY 1981-1985 Defense Programs, January

29, 198o (Washington, D.C . : Government

Printing Office, 198o), pp. 65-68.

37. Stares, Militarization of Space,

pp. 18o-182.

38 . Ibid., pp . 185-186; Futrell, Ideas, 1961-

1984, p. 688.

39 . One study asserts that the real problem lay not in the directives themselves, but

in their enforcement by the always hesitant

bureaucracy. While the civilian side moved

effectively to implement the elements of PD

42, those on the military side did not. Other

institutional issues affecting DoD and the

Air Force are also discussed in LTC Neal E.

Lamping and LTC Richard P MacLeod,

Space-A National Security Dilemma: Key

Years of Decision (Washington, D.C .:

National Defense University, June 1979) .

40 . Briefing, AF/XO, "Air Force Space

Policy," November 1976 .

41 . AF/XO to AF/CV, subj : Air Force Space

Policy, 29 January 1977 .

42 . AF/CC to ALMAJCOM/CC, subj : Air

Force Space Policy, 9 May 1977 ; Futrell,

Ideas, 1961-1984, p. 688. As noted in Chapters 3 and 4, Air Force leaders referred to

service policy despite the fact that policy is

established by the President and, technically,

326

Objectives, July 1977 .

44 .

Members of the Space Operations

Steering Group included several elements

within the Plans and Operations Office

the Director of Operations, Director of

Concepts, as well as the Director of Space

from the Research and Development office.

Although Air Force leaders would continue

in future to pursue the "sole agent" objective, by the end of the Carter administration

in 1981 enthusiasm had waned considerably.

Ultimately, the Air Force would witness the

establishment of the a unified command for

military space, which it had opposed since

the Eisenhower administration.

45 . Rick WSturdevant, "The United

States Organizes for Space: The Operational

Quest," in Organizing for the Use of Space:

Historical Perspectives on a Persistent Issue,

ed. Roger D. Launius (San Diego, CA:

American Astronautical Society,1995),

PP. 174-175.

46 . Robert Kipp, AFSPACECOM/HO, "The

Reorganization of 1979 and the Space Organization Issue," 8 March 1988 .

47. Under Secretary of the Air Force to

CINCNORAD, 9 May1978.

48 . Background Paper, ADCOM/SPDQ,

"Need for a USAF Space Operations

Command," 8 June 1978 .

49 . ADCOM Staff Meeting Notes,

u October 1978 .

50 . Interview Transcript, Maj Gen

Thomas S. Moorman, Jr., with Robert Kipp

and Thomas Fuller, 27 July 1988 . The nine

general officers were Lt GenA.B . Anderson,

Jr., USAF DCS/Operations, Plans and

Readiness, Maj Gen H.S . Vandenberg, Jr.,

USAF DCS/XO, Maj Gen J.R . Bickle, USAF

DCS/RD, Maj GenS.H . Sherman, Jr ., USAF

DCS/MPM, Maj Gen B.K . Brown, ADCOM

DCS/DO, Maj GenJ.E. Kulpa, Jr., SAFSP, Maj

Gen L.A . Skantze, AFSC DCS/SD, Maj Gen
51 . Interview Transcript, Moorman,

PP. 3-5;

Futrell, Ideas, 1961-1984, pp. 689-

69o; LTC Neal E. Lamping and LTC Richard

P MacLeod, Space-A National Security

Dilemma: Key Years of Decision (Washington: National Defense University, June

1979), PP. 79 - 81 .

52. Interview, Gen James E. Hill, USAF

(Ret .), USAF Oral History Interview by

James C. Hasdorff, No. K239 .o512-1324,

Albert E Simpson Historical Research

Center (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University,

3-4 May 1982), p. 1o6.

53 . Hungerford, Organization for Military

Space, pp. 52-55; Kipp, "Trends in Military

Space;" History, Space Division, l October

1981-3o September 1982, pp. 1-15 ; Newhouse,

War and Peace in the Nuclear Age, pp. 304,

318-

323.

54 . Hungerford, Organization for Military

Space, pp 52-55; Kipp, "Trends in Military

Space;" History, Space Division, 1 October

1981-3o September 1982, pp. 1-15 . See also

Chapter 4, pp. 167-168, 170-171, this study

55 . Talking Paper, AF/XOXFD, Space Related Initiatives, 22 October 1979 ; Hungerford,

Organization for Military Space, pp. 52-55;

Kipp, "Trends in Military Space;" History,

Space Division, October 1981-September

1982, pp. 1 -15 .

56 . History, Space Division, 1 October

1981-3o September 1982, pp. 110-115.

57 . Paper, AF/XOXFD, Space Related Initiatives, 22 October 1979 ; History, ADCOM/

ADC, 1 January-31 December 1979, pp. 111-u5 .

58 . Hungerford, Organization forMilitary

Space, p. 63 .

59 . Point Paper, AF/XPDS, USAF/XO

Corona Fall Briefing, 21 August 1981 ; Point

Paper, AF/XOXFD, Organization for Space,

26 April 1981.

6o . John L. McLucas to Dr. Raymond

Bisplinghoff, Chairman, Scientific Advisory

61 . Ibid .

62 . AF/XO to AF/RD, subj : USAF Scientific

Advisory Board Summer Study on Space,

2 January 1981 ; Interview Transcript, Brig

Gen Earl S. Van Inwegen, with Rick W

Sturdevant, 1 November 1995 . Van Inwegen

provides an insider's account of the evolution of the Air Force's Space Command

from his position on General Chain's staff in

the Directorate of Operations and Readiness

and, from September 1981, the Directorate of

Space. According to Van Inwegen, Chain

provided much of the momentum behind

O'Malley's efforts for space operational reform. Shortly after O'Malley became Deputy

Chiefof Staff for Operations, Plans and

Readiness, Chain had his staff prepare what

he called the "Fester" Briefing, which recommended how the Air Force should organize

for space and would sit on O'Malley's desk

and fester until the latter took action on it .

63 . Interview (tape recording), Secretary

of the Air Force John L. McLucas, by the

author, Washington, D.C ., 30 March 1995

64 . Gen LewAllen, Jr., CSAF, to Dr.

Raymond E. Bisplinghoff, Chairman, USAF

Scientific Advisory Board, 15 April 1981.

General Allen, a physicist, also served in the

National Reconnaissance Office. For General

Allen's cautious approach to space organizational initiatives, see Interview, General Lew

Allen, Jr., USAF (Ret .), USAF Oral History

Interview by Dr. James C. Hasdorff, Albert

F. Simpson Historical Research Center, No.

K239 .0512-1694 (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air

University, 8-1o January 1986), pp. 163-165.

65. Interview, Lt Gen Richard C. Henry,

in Air Force Magazine, Vol. 65, No. 6 (June

1982), p. 41 .

66 . Hungerford, Organization for Military

Space, pp. 67-68; Futrell, Ideas, 1961-1984,

pp. 69o- 691.

67. HQ USAF/XO, Space Policy and

327
Col Samuel Beamer, ADCOM/XO, USAF

(Ret), by the author, Colorado Springs, CO,

10 July 1991 .

69. Point Paper, AF/XPDS, USAF/XO

Corona Fall Briefing, 21 August 1981 ; Point

Paper, AF/XOXFD, "Organization for Space,"

26 April 1981

70. Staff Summary Sheet, AF/JSSX, CSAF

Tasking on Space Policy and Organization,

15 January 1982; History, Space Command,

ADCOM, ADC, 1982, pp. 6-7 ; Thomas Karas,

The New High Ground: Strategies and

Weapons of Space-Age War (New York:

Simon and Schuster, 1983), p. 19 ; Edward C.

Aldridge, Jr., "Defense in the Fourth Dimension," Defense 83 (January 1983), pp. 3-10 .

71 . Staff Summary Sheet, AF/JSSX, CSAF

Tasking on Space Policy and Organization,

15 January 1982 ; History, Space Command,

ADCOM, ADC, 1982, pp. 6-7 ; Thomas Karas,

The New High Ground: Strategies and

Weapons of Space-Age War (New York:

Simon and Schuster, 1983), p. 19 ; Edward C.

Aldridge, Jr., "Defense in the Fourth Dimension," Defense 83 (January 1983), pp. 3-10 ;

Interview Transcript, Van Inwegen. Although Van Inwegen served as one of the

staff officers directed to prepared the

"Navajo Blanket," he mistakenly places the

event in 1977 during the controversy over

ADCOM's demise.

72. Karas, New High Ground, p. 19 ; Futrell,

Ideas, 1961-1984, pp. 695-696 .

73 . Henry M. Narducci, Strategic Air

Command and the Space Mission, 1977-1984,

(Offutt AFB, NE: SAC, 1o October 1985),

pp. 24 - 33 ; History, Space Command,

ADCOM, ADC, 1982, pp. 6-n; Aldridge,

"Defense in the Fourth Medium," pp. 3-10 ;

Kipp, "Trends in Military Space." In later

years, General Hartinger would often cite

the West Point connection and friendship

with Marsh and Henry as responsible for

328

Interview, Gen James V Hartinger, USAF

(Ret .), USAF Oral History Interview by Capt

Barry J . Anderson, No. K239 .o512-1673,

Albert F . Simpson Historical Research

Center (Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University, 5-6

September 1985) .

74 . Narducci, Strategic Air Command

and the Space Mission, 1977-1984, pp 24 - 33

History, Space Command, ADCOM, ADC,

1982, pp. 6-11 ; Aldridge, "Defense in the

Fourth Medium," pp. 3-1o ; Kipp, "Trends

in Military Space ." The ad hoc working

group found particularly difficult the issue

of how to integrate the Consolidated Space

Operations Center (CSOC) into the organization structure .

75 . Narducci, Strategic Air Command

and the Space Mission, 1977-1984, pp. 24-33 ;

History, Space Command, ADCOM, ADC,

1982, pp. 6-11; Aldridge, "Defense in the

Fourth Medium," pp. 3-1o ; Kipp, "Trends in

Military Space." General O'Malley became

Vice Chief of Staff on 1 June 1982.

76 . Interview Transcript, Allen, p. 164.

77 . Narducci, Strategic Air Command

and the Space Mission, 1977-1984, pp. 24- 33 ;

History, Space Command, ADCOM, ADC,

1982, pp. 6-11 ; Aldridge, "Defense in the

Fourth Medium," pp. 3-1o ; Kipp, "Trends

in Military Space."

78. Narducci, Strategic Air Command

and the Space Mission, 1977-1984, pp. 24-33 ;

History, Space Command, ADCOM, ADC,

1982, pp. 6-11 ; Aldridge, "Defense in the

Fourth Medium," pp. 3-1o ; Kipp, "Trends

in Military Space."

79 . The official news release stated the

following : "Creation of Space Command

will further consolidate USAF operational

space activities, provide a link between the

space-related research and development

process and operational users, and retain

North American Aerospace Defense Com-
hope and belief that Space Command will

develop quickly into a unified command."

Quoted in History, Space Command,

ADCOM, ADC, 1982, pp. 9-10 . For details of

the O'Malley-Nagler meeting, see Interview

Transcript, Van Inwegen. A member of the

Space Operations Steering Committee, Van

Inwegen noted that, after the proposed

public announcement had been taken to

General O'Malley for his final review, he was

Chapter 6. From Star Wars to the Gulf War

1 . "Normalize" and "operationalize"

become frequently used "buzz" words in the

late 198os and early 199os to buttress the

case for creating an operational focus for

military space. For a useful discussion of the

space "normalization" movement, see History, Air Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 199o, pp. 107-u4.

2. History, Space Command, ADCOM,

January-December 1983, pp. 2-12 ; History,

Air Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 1987, pp. 1-2; Rick W. Sturdevant,

"The United States Air Force Organizes for

Space: The Operational Quest," in Organizingfor the Use ofSpace: Historical Perspectives

on a Persistent Issue, ed. Roger D. Launius

(San Diego, CA: American Astronautical

Society, 1995), pp. 18o-181.

3. At this time, DSP was being used

operationally but had not been formally

turned over from Air Force Systems Command. History, Space Command, ADCOM,

January-December 1983, pp. 2-12 ; History,

Air Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 1987, pp. 1-2 ; Sturdevant, "The

United States Air Force Organizes for

Space," pp. 18o-183.

4. History, Space Division, 1 October

1983-30 September 1984, pp . 242-262; Aeronautics and Space Report to the President.

1983 Activities (Washington, D.C . : NASA,

8o . Futrell, Ideas, 1961-1984, p. 696; Stares,

Militarization of Space, pp. 18o-i82.

81 . AFM1-6, Aerospace Basic Doctrine :

Military Space Doctrine, 15 October 1982;

Futrell, Ideas, 1961 1984, p. 696; Stares,

Militarization of Space, pp. 18o-182.

82 . History, Space Command, ADCOM,

1983 PP- 51-54; Space Surveillance Architecture Study, (Washington, D.C . : Headquarters

USAF, 1o June 1983).

1984), pp . 29-3o; Aeronautics and Space Report to the President. 1984 Activities (Washington, D.C . : NASA, 1985), pp. 39-40.

5. History, Space Division, 1 October

1983-30 September 1984, pp . 211-238.

6. Aeronautics and Space Report to the

President. 1983 Activities (Washington, D.C. :

NASA, 1984), pp. 27-29; Aeronautics and

Space Report to the President. 1984 Activities

(Washington, D.C. : NASA, 1985), Pp. 37 -39;

United States General Accounting Office

Report, DoD Acquisition. Case Study of the

MILSTAR Satellite Communications System,

31 July 1986 ; Point Paper, AFSPACECOM/

KRQS, "MILSTAR," 27 March 1984 ; Background Paper, AFSPACECOM/SIMRS,

"MILSTAR Issues," 18 November 1985 ;

"Milstar Satellite Project Under Watchful

Eye," Defense Electronics (June 1986), p. 64.

7. History, Space Division, 1 October

1983-30 September 1984, pp . 179-205 ; Aeronautics and Space Report to the President.

1983 Activities (Washington, D.C . : NASA,

1984), P. 29 ; Aeronautics and Space Report to

the President. 1984 Activities (Washington,

D.C. : NASA, 1985), p. 39 .NASA's PAM-DII

comprised one of three solid-fueled upper

stage vehicles under development at this

time . NASA built the PAM for relatively light

payloads designed for flight aboard the

Shuttle or Delta booster. The other two were

329
modified Centaur upper stage for use with

the heaviest payloads and interplanetary

missions . History, Space Division, 1 October

1983-3o September 1984, pp. 98-99; History,

Space Division, October 1985-September

1986, P. 73 .

8. Following a reassessment of space

system requirements after the Challenger

tragedy, on 17 February 1988, Secretary of

Defense Frank Carlucci authorized an

expansion of the GPS space segment to 24

satellites, consisting of 21 active and three

on-orbit spares . History, Air Force Space

Command, January-December 1988, p. 148.

9. Commander, Space Command to

Commander-in-Chief, SAC, 20 January 1983 ;

Memorandum, AFSPACECOM, Director,

Space to DCS/Plans, subj : Resource Management, 22 March 1984 ; Commander-in-Chief,

SAC to Commander, Space Command,

26 April 1984, w/Point Paper, "Command

Missions and Resource Management."

10 . Commander, Space Command to

Commander-in-Chief, SAC, 18 June 1984 .

u. History, Space Division, October 1984-

September 198, pp. 11-12; Sturdevant, "The

United States Air Force Organizes for Space,"

p. 180.

12. History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1987, pp. 144-148;

AFSPACECOM/HO, Aerospace Defense: A

Chronology of Key Events, 1945-go, 1 October

1991, p. 68 .

13 . In 1987 DOD issued a new policy on

space launch that designated expendable

launch vehicles rather than the Shuttle the

primary military launch vehicles . As a result,

the Shuttle Operations and Planning Complex in the CSOC was no longer needed. In

December 1986, Air Force headquarters had

decided to delete funding for the CSOC, and

in early 1987 directed complete phaseout of

the development program by October of

330

162-163; History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 19go, pp. 181-84.

14 . History, Space Command, ADCOM,

ADC, 1982, p. 10 .

15 . History, United States Space Command, September 1985 to December 1986,

pp. 1-5. See Chapter 5, this study, pp. 196-207

for discussion of events and issues leading to

establishment of Space Command.

16. Ibid. ; Paper, USSPACECOM/HO,

"United States Space Command," 17 August

1987 ; Sturdevant, "The United States Air

Force Organizes for Space," p. 184.

17. For the political background to SDI see

B. Bruce-Briggs, The Shield of Faith (New

York, 1988) ; Sanford Lakoff and Herbert F.

York, A Shield in Space? (Berkeley, 1989);

Stephen J. Cimbala, ed ., StrategicAir Defense

(Wilmington, DE, 1989) ; Philip M. Boffey

and others, Claiming the Heavens (New

York, 1988); Robert C. Richardson III, USAF

(Ret), "High Frontier : `The Only Game in

Town," Journal of Social, Political and

Economic Studies VII, nos. 1 and 2 (1982) : 55-

66 ; Speech, Brig Gen Robert R. Rankine, Jr.,

USAF, Special Assistant for Strategic Defense

Initiative, Address to the National Defense

Institute, Lisbon, Portugal, 3 June 1985.

18 . History, United States Space Command, September 1985 to December 1986,

pp. 1-5; Paper, USSPACECOM/HO, "United

States Space Command," 17 August 1987 ;

Sturdevant, "The United States Air Force

Organizes for Space," p. 184. Air Force Space

Command gained responsibility for the SDI

Test Facility when DOD in 1985 decided to

locate the National Test Facility in the CSOC

at Falcon Air Station. History, Air Force

Space Command, January-December 1986,

pp. 91 -92.

19 . History, United States Space Command, September 1985 to December 1986,

pp . 1-5; Background Paper, USSPACECOM/
20 . Gen Robert T. Herres replaced the

retiring Hartinger on 30 July 1984. With the

formation of U.S . Space Command, Herres

briefly wore four hats, as Space Command

commander and Aerospace Defense Command, NORAD, and U.S . Space Command

commander-in-chief. Shortly thereafter, on

1 October 1986, Air Force Space Command

received a separate commander, Maj Gen

Maurice C. Padden, while on 19 December

1986, Aerospace Defense Command was inactivated. Air Force Space Command and

U.S . Space Command would remain separated until 23 March 1992 . AFSPACECOM/

HO, Aerospace Defense: A Chronology of Key

Events, 1945-go, 1 October 1991, pp. 63-66;

History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1993, PP.14-15.

21 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1989, pp . 15-16.

22 . History, Space Command, ADCOM,

January-December 1983, pp. 52-54; History,

Space Command, ADCOM, JanuaryDecember 1984, pp. 87-88; Point Paper,

AFSPACECOM/XPXX, "USAF Space Plan,"

20 January 1988 .

23 . For a comprehensive discussion of the

Space Plan before and afterthe Challenger accident, see History, Air Force SpaceCommand,

January-December 1986, pp . 79-91.

24 . Ibid.

25. Ibid . A revised mission statement did

not receive approval until 14 May19go .

26 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1986, pp. 128-132; History, Space Division, October 1985-September 1986, pp. xxxiii, 55-56, 6o,132 . See also

John M. Logsdon and RayA. Williamson,

"U.S. Access to Space," Scientific American,

Vol. 26o, No. 3 (March 1989), pp. 34 - 40 .

27 . History, Space Division, October

1985-September 1986, pp. 6o-67; "Challenger

Panel is Seen Rebuking NASA Officials," Wall

Roger D. Launius, "Toward an Understanding of the Space Shuttle: AHistoriographical

Essay," Air Power History (Winter 1992),

PP. 15-18.

28 . History, Space Division, October 1985-

September 1986, pp. 6o-67; History, Air

Force Space Command, January-December

1986, pp. 128-132; Logsdon and Williamson,

"U.S Access to Space," pp. 34- 36 .

29 . GAO Report, Report to the Chairman,

Committee on Government Operations,

House of Representatives, Implications of

JointNASAIDoD Participation in Space Shuttle Operations, GAO/NSIAD-84-13, 7 November 1983, pp . 3-21 ; Edgar Ulsamer, "Space.

High-Flying Yankee Ingenuity," Air Force

Magazine (September 1976), pp. 98-104 .

30 . GAO Report, Implications ofJoint

NASA/DoD Participation in Space Shuttle

Operations, pp. 3-21 ; History, Space Division,

1 October 1982-3o September 1983, pp. 68-72.

31 . GAO Report, Implications of Joint

NASA/DoD Participation in Space Shuttle

Operations, pp. 3-21 ; Statement by Dr.

William J. Perry, Under Secretary of Defense

for Research and Engineering before the

Senate Subcommittee on Science, Technology, and Space, 4 June 1979 ; Edgar Ulsamer,

"Space Shuttle Mired in Bureaucratic Feud,"

Air Force Magazine (September ig8o),

pp. 72-77; GAOReport, Issues Concerning the

Future Operation of the Space Transportation

System, GAO/MASAD-83-6, 28 December

1982, pp. i, iii, 3,12 .

32 . Interest Paper, USSPACECOM/155X,

"Mixed Fleet," 7 October 1987 .

33 . History, Space Division, i October

1982-30 September 1983, pp . 68-72; Ulsamer,

"Space Shuttle Mired in Bureaucratic Feud,"

PP.

72-77; Interest Paper, ADCOM/NORAD,

"Liquid Upper Stage (Centaur)," 7 June 1982 .

34 . GAO Report, Issues Concerning the

Future Operation ofthe Space Transportation

33 1
Mixed Fleet,7 October 1987; Presentation,

Edward C. Aldridge, Jr., Under Secretary of

the Air Force, Address to the National Space

Club, 18 November 1981 ; "NASA Shouldn't

Operate Shuttle, AF Under Secretary Says,"

Aerospace Daily, Vol . 112, No. 14, 2o November 1981, p. 105.

36 . History, Space Division, 1 October

1983-30 September 1984, pp. 88-95 ; Point

Paper, AFSPACECOM/XPSS, "Space Transportation System, 13 February 1984 ." The

Atlas II would have the capability of

launching 14,5000 pounds to a loo-nautical

mile easterly orbit, and 6,1oo pounds into a

geosynchronous transfer orbit . GAO Fact

Sheet, "Military Space Programs : An

Unclassified Overview of Defense Satellite

Programs and Launch Activities," GAO/

NSIAD-90-154FS, p. 54 .

37. Memorandum, Secretary of Defense

for the Secretaries ofthe Military Departments, et al, subj : Defense Space Launch

Strategy, 7 February 1984 .

38. History, Space Division, 1 October

1983-30 September 1984, pp. 88-95 ; Draft

Memorandum, Glynn Lunney to General

Beer, 2 December 1983 . On the issue of

"militarization," see for example, "A New

Image for the Space Shuttle," Science,

18 January 1985, pp. 276-277 ; William J .

Broad, "As Shuttle Orbits, a Debate Grows

Over Military's Role," The New York Times,

6 October 1985 .

39 . Logsdon and Williamson, "U.S . Access

to Space," pp. 34-40; Tom Dworetzky, "The

Launch Gap," Discover (July 1988), pp. 54-62 ;

William J. Broad, "Pentagon Leaves the

Shuttle Program," The New York Times,

7 August 1989, pp. 5-6 .

40 History, Space Division, 1 October

1983-30 September 1984, pp. 88-95 ; Memorandum, Secretary of the Air Force to

Secretary ofDefense, subj : DoD Space

332

41. U.S . House, Assured Access to Space

During the 19gos, Joint Hearings Before the

Subcommittee on Space Science and

Applications of the Committee on Armed

Services, 99th Congress, 1st Session, 23, 24,

25 July 1985, pp. 43 -46, 52 - 54 91 - 98, 143 -145

42. History, Space Division, October

1986-September 1987, pp. 69-75 .

43 . For example, see the articles under the

general heading, "National Security and the

U.S. Space Program After the Challenger

Tragedy," by Albert D. Wheelon, "Pete"

Aldridge, Richard R. Colino, Richard L.

Garwin, Hans Mark, Bruce Murray, and

James A. Van Allen in International Security,

Vol . 11, No. 4 (Spring 1987), pp. 141-186 .

44. The booster companies found it

difficult to retool quickly for production .

History, Space Division, October 1985-

September 1986, pp. 6o-67 ; Dworetzky,

"The Launch Gap," pp. 54-62.

45 . History, Space Division, October

1985-September 1986, pp. 6o-67 ; Dworetzky,

"The Launch Gap," pp. 54-62 ; Logsdon

and Williamson, "U.S . Access to Space,"

PP. 34-40; Air Staff Transition Papers, HQ

USAF/DOSS, "DoD Space Launch Systems,"

16 December 1988 ; William Welling, "Questions Remain for Space Command," Advanced Propulsion (February/March 1986),

pp. 26-30 .

46. History, Space Division, October

1987-September 1988, pp. 49-51 ; History,

Space Division, October 1985-September

1986, pp. 6o-67; History, Space Division,

October 1986-September 1987, pp. xli-xliii ;

History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1986, pp. 128-132 ;

Dworetzky, "The Launch Gap," pp. 54-62 ;

Logsdon and Williamson, "U.S. Access to

Space," pp. 34-40 ; Air Staff Transition

Papers, "DoD Space Launch Systems,"

16 December 1988 ; Welling, "Questions
to McDonnell Douglas in January 1987 . The

first of 13 Titan Its were expected to be

operational in 1988 . The Delta 11, with

PAM Dupper stage, would prove capable

of launching nearly 19oo pounds to Navstar

GPS's io,9oo-nautical mile altitude transfer

orbit, and n,ioo pounds to an loo-nautical

mile easterly orbit. GAO Fact Sheet,

"Military Space Programs, p. 58 ; Edward H.

Kolcum, "First USAF/McDonnell Douglas

Delta 2 Launch Begins New Military Space

Era." Aviation Week & Space Technology,

2o February 1989 .

47 . History, Space Division, October

1987-September 1988, pp. 49-51; History,

Space Division, October 1985-September

1986, pp. 6o-67; History, Space Division,

October 1986-September 1987, PP. xli-xliii;

History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1986, pp. 128-132;

Dworetzky, "The Launch Gap," PP. 54-62;

Logsdon and Williamson, "U .S Access to

Space," PP. 34-40; Air Staff Transition

Papers, "DOD Space Launch Systems,"

16 December 1988 ; Welling, "Questions

Remain for Space Command," pp. 26-30.

48 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1987, PP. 98-loo ;

Memorandum, HQ USAF/Chief Space C3 &

EC Division, Directorate of Programs &

Eval, subj : Air Force Space Policy White

Paper, 6 July 1987, Watch, "White Paper on

Air Force Space Policy." It should be noted

that other important studies appeared at

this time to help generate support for space

in the Air Force. For example, the Chief of

Staff in 1985 established an Aerospace

Forum consisting of major commandplans

chiefs to examine whether the "aerospace

force should perform its roles and missions

with space fully integrated ." After an initial

report in May 1986, the Aerospace Forum

seemed to succumb to later, more important

49 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1987, pp. 98-loo ;

Memorandum, HQ USAF/Chief Space C3 &

EC Division, Directorate of Programs &Eval,

subj : Air Force Space Policy White Paper, 6

July 1987, w/atch, "White Paper on Air Force

Space Policy."

5o . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1987, pp. 98-loo ; Memorandum, HQ USAF/Chief Space C3 &EC

Division, Directorate of Programs &Eval,

subj : Air Force Space Policy White Paper,

6 July 1987, Watch, "White Paper on Air

Force Space Policy." By the fall of 1987 the

Air Force had a draft policy letter well

underway, and on 19 October 1987, Air Force

Space Command received a new, three-star

commander, Lt Gen Donald J Kutyna.

51 . History, United States Space Command,January 1987 to December 1988, p. xvii.

52 Ibid., PP. 56-60.

53 .

Ibid., p. 245.

54 . Ibid., pp. 242-249; History, Air Force

Space Command, January-December 1987,

PP. 130- 135 . To assist the process, Air Force

Space Command's operations staff created

STOPLIGHT, a satellite systems analysis

model that would indicate coverage gaps by

projecting the on-orbit satellite constellation

status through 1994

55 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1987, Pp. 135-136;

History, United States Space Command,

January 1987 to December 1988, pp. 242-249;

Point Paper, AFSPCACECOM/XPSS, "Operational Space Launch," 16 October 1987 .

Also see the discussion of launch strategy in

U.S . Senate, Air Force Space Launch Policy

and Plans, Hearing Before the Subcommittee on Strategic Forces and Nuclear Disarmament of the Committee on Armed Services,

tooth Congress, 1st Session, 6 October 1987 .

56 . Paper, AFSPACECOM, "Point Paper on

333
Force Space Command, January-December

199o, pp. 81-84.

57 . Background Paper, AFSPACECOM/

XPSS, "Military Man in Space (MMIS) "

28 September 1989, w/Briefing, same subject,

25 September 1989 ; History, Air Force Space

Command, January-December 1986, pp.

126-128; History, Space Division, October

1987-September 1988, pp. 617-620; History,

Air Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 1988, pp. 136-140; History, Air

Force Space Command, January-December

1989, p. 161.

58. History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 199o, pp. 81-84.

59 . History, Space Division, October

1987-September 1988, pp. 547-554.

6o . Ibid. ; History, Space Division,

October 1988-September 1989, pp. 588-591,

632-635. See also GenJohn L. Piotrowski,

"C31 for Space Control," Signal (June 1987),

pp. 23 -33 ; Gen John L. Piotrowski, "The

Right Space Tools," Military Forum (March

1989), PP. 46-48.

61 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1988, pp. 91-97; Point

Paper, AFSPACECOM/XPXX, "CSAF Blue

Ribbon Panel on Space Status Briefing,"

26 November 199o, w/Briefing, "Blue

Ribbon Panel Status," 27 November 199o .

62 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1988, pp. 91-97; Point

Paper, AFSPACECOM/XPXX, "CSAF Blue

Ribbon Panel on Space Status Briefing,"

26 November 199o, w/Briefing, "Blue

Ribbon Panel Status," 27 November 199o .

63 . The "roadmap" format was a common approach taken by major Air Force

commands to establish priorities and

actions. History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1988, pp. 91-97; Point

Paper, AFSPACECOM/XPXX, "CSAF Blue

Ribbon Panel on Space Status Briefing,"

334

Air Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 1989, pp. 91-loo ; History, Space

Division, October 1988-September 1989,

PP. 573- 574.

64 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1989, pp. 91-loo .

65 . Background Paper, AFSPACECOM/

XPSS, "Transfer of Functions [From `discussion book' senior executive offsite at USAF

Academy, 9 January 199o]," 12 December

1989 ; History, United States Space Command, January 1987 to December 1988,

pp. 207-210; History, Air Force Space

Command, January-December 1988, pp.

125-129; History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1989, pp. 15-18. Although

Air Force Space Command initiated

planning for the transfer of the Cheyenne

Mountain operations centers, the transfer

itself never took place, the action having

been disapproved by U.S . Space Command.

66 . For discussion of the ALS, see History,

Air Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 1987, pp. 133-135; History, Air

Force Space Command, January-December

1988, pp. 140-144; History, Air Force Space

Command, January-December 1989,

PP. 153- 159; History, Air Force Space Command, January-December 199o, pp. 156-159;

History, Space Division, October 1986-

September 1987, pp. 69-75; History, Space

Division, October 1987-September 1988,

pp. 115-134; History, Space Division, October 1989-September 1990, pp. 754-805

Dworetzky, "The Launch Gap," pp. 54-62;

Logsdon and Williamson, "U .S . Access to

Space," pp. 34-40; Richard DeMeis,

"Sweetening the orbital bottom line,"

Aerospace America (August 1988), pp. 26-30;

Commander-in-Chief, USSPACECOM to

Vice Chairman, JCS, [Mission Need

Statement for ALS] , 6 September 1989 .

67 . History, Air Force Space Command,
Science Board 1989 Summer Study on

National Space Launch Strategy, March 199o,

PP. 1-38 ; History, Air Force Space Command, January-December 1990, pp. 156-159.

69 . History, Space Division, October

1988-September 1989, pp. 55-57 ; Aeronautics

and Space Report of the President. 1988

Activities (Washington: NASA, 1989), p. 71 ;

Speech, Maj Gen Thomas S. Moorman, Jr.,

Director, Space and SDI Programs, Office of

the Secretary of the Air Force (Acquisition)

to the National Space Club, Washington,

D.C ., 25 January 1989 .

70 . Paper, AFSPACECOM, "Point Paper on

Transfer of Space Launch Operations to

AFSPACECOM," 8 October 1987; History, Air

Force Space Command,January-December

1990, pp. 81-84; Presentation, Maj Gen

Thomas S. Moorman, Jr., Director, Space and

SDI Programs, Office of the Secretaryof the

Air Force (Acquisition) to the National Space

Chapter 7. Coming of Age

1. For general military and political

studies of the Gulf War, see Dilip Hiro,

Desert Shield to Desert Storm: The Second

Gulf War (New York : Routledge,1992) and

Bruce W. Watson, ed ., Military Lessons of the

Gulf War (London: Greenhill Books, 1991).

Also see "Introduction" by Defense Secretary Dick Cheney to the Interim Report to

Congress on the Conduct of the Persian

Gulf Conflict, July 1991, reprinted in Defense

Issues, Vol. 6, No. 32, pp. 1-8.

2. Hiro, Desert Shield to Desert Storm,

"Part 11, The Crisis;" Watson, ed ., Military

Lessons of the Gulf War, "Part 11 . Diplomacy."

Cheney, "Interim Report to Congress on

the Conduct of the Persian Gulf Conflict ;"

OSAF, Draft Report on Space Forces and

National Security, 23 September 1993 ; Office

of the Chief of Staffof the Air Force, Blue

Ribbon Panel on theAir Force in Space in the

JanuaryDecember 199o, pp. 8487. For dis

cussion of the"blue suit" issue between SAC

and AFSPACECOM, see Background Paper,

AFSPACECOM/HO,"Transfer of DMSP Launch

Operations to AFSC," 26 February 19go .

72 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 19go, pp. 87-96; History,

Space Division, October 1988-September

1989, pp. 14-25.

73 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 19go, pp. 96-114 ;

Secretary Rice is quoted on pp. 103-104.

74 . Quoted in History, Air Force Space

Command, January-December 199o,

pp. 1o6-107.

75 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 199o, p. xv.

76 . AFSPACECOM/IM, "Air Force Space

Command 1989 Posture Statement," n.d.

[1989] .

21st Century, ca. February 1993, PP. 1-4

(hereafter cited as Blue Ribbon Panel

Executive Summary).

3. Blue Ribbon Panel Executive Summary,

PP. 1-4.

4. By 1991 defense funding in real terms

had declined every year since 1986 . To support the Gulf War, Congress authorized an

emergency supplemental appropriation of

$3 .5 billion, which would not influence continued programmed future budget reductions DovS. Zahkeim, "Top Guns: Rating

Weapons Systems in the Gulf War," Policy

Review (Summer 1991), p. 14 .

5. For a discussion of "Lessons Learned,"

see below, pp. 262-271.

6. Shortly after the conflict, commentators referred to Desert Storm as the first

space war. Although also used byAir Force

leaders such as Chief of Staff General Merrill

335
space systems in support of warfighting

during the Gulf War. The term came to be

viewed as misleading, incorrect, and somewhat threatening from the military perspective . For assessment of military usage, see

George W. Bradley III, AFSPACECOM/HO,

AFSPACFCOM Support to Operations Desert

Shield/Desert Storm, April 1993 . See the discussion in James W. Canan, "A Watershed in

Space," Air Force Magazine (August 1990,

PP. 34- 37 ; Sir Peter Anson BT and Dennis

Cummings, "The First Space War: The

Contribution of Satellites to the Gulf War,"

RUST Journal (Winter 1991), pp. 45-53

7. Draft Report on Space Forces and

National Security, pp. 5-6; USSPPACECOM/

HO, "Space Operations : ADecade of

Support to Military/Humanitarian Contingencies/Operations (1983-1993)," June 1993 .

8 Anson and Cummings, "The First

Space War," p. 45

9

. Col Alan D. Campen, USAF (Ret),

"Gulf War's Silent Warriors Bind U.S . Units

Via Space," Signal (August 1991), pp. 81-84;

Anson and Cummings, "The First Space

War," pp. 46-48; "Satcoms success story"

Space Markets VOL 4, 1991, pp . 10-11 ;

USSPACECOM, United States Space Command Operations Desert Shield and Desert

Storm Assessment, January 1992, pp. 47 -55

(hereafter cited as USSPACECOM Assessment); Center for Army Lessons Learned,

The Ultimate High Ground! Space Support to

the Army/Lessons from Operations Desert

Shield and Storm (Fort Leavenworth, KS : U.S

Army Combined Arms Command, October

1991), pp. 15-17 (hereafter cited as The

Ultimate High Ground : Space Support to

the Army).

1o . USSPACECOM Assessment, pp. 47-55;

The Ultimate High Ground: Space Support to

the Army, pp. 15-17. Two experimental polar

orbiting MACSATs (Multiple Access Com336

Cummings, The First Space War,

p. 46 .

u. Aeronautics and Space Report of the

President: 1989 -i99o Activities (Washington,

D.C . : NASA, 1991), p. 62 .

12. This description of DSCS in Desert

Storm is based in large part on,

AFSPACECOM/HO, History of Air Force

Space Command, January-December 19go,

pp. 151-155. The Defense Communications

Agency was renamed the Defense Information Systems Agency (DISA) on 25 June 1991.

13 . Dwayne A. Day, "A Review of Recent

American Military Space Operations,"

Journalof the British Interplanetary Society,

Vol. 46 (1993), PP. 468- 469. Unlike DSCS II,

DSCS III satellites included a specific antijamming feature to protect the AFSATCOM

transponder it carried.

14 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1990, pp . 153- 154.

15 . Ibid ., p. 154; USSPACECOMAssessment,

p . 61 .

16 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 19go, pp. 154-155; Anson

and Cummings, "The First Space War,"

p. 46 ; USSPACECOM Assessment, pp . 25-28.

17. Anson and Cummings, "The First

Space War," pp. 46-48. The Leasat positions

were: Li and L2 at 105 degrees west, L3 at 177

degrees west, and L5 at 178 degrees west .

Day, "A Review of Recent American Military

Space Operations," p. 469.

18 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1990, pp . 137-139; Anson

and Cummings, "The First Space War," p. 48 .

19 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 19go, pp. 137-139; Anson

and Cummings, "The First Space War," p. 48 ;

USSPACECOMAssessment, pp. 25-28. Twodimensional required three satellites in view

from the ground, and three-dimensional

coverage necessitated four.

20 . History, Air Force Space Command,
21 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1990, pp. 140-141; The

Ultimate High Ground: Space Support to the

Army, pp. 1-2; USSPACECOMAssessment,

pp . 28-31; Anson and Cummings, "The First

Space War," p. 5o ; Barry Miller, "GPS Proves

Its Worth in Operation Desert Storm,"

Armed Forces Journal International (April

1991), pp. 16-20.

22 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1990, pp . 140-141; The

Ultimate High Ground. Space Support to the

Army, pp . 1-2; Anson and Cummings, "The

First Space War," p. 50 ; Barry Miller, "GPS

Proves Its Worth in Operation Desert

Storm," Armed Forces Journal International

(April 1991), pp . 16-20. Approximately 4500

receivers actually saw service during Desert

Storm, and more than 9o% of these were

commercial sets . Of the 5ooo available, the

Army used 3710 commercial and 557 military

receivers. For the Navy the figures are 130

and 85, respectively ; for the Air Force, 150

and 190, respectively. See USSPACECOM

Assessment, p. 29 .

23 USSPACECOM Assessment, pp. 28-31;

Dwayne A. Day, "Transformation of

National Security Space Programs in the

Post-Cold War Era," Presentation to the

45th Congress of the International Astronautical Federation, 9-14 October 1994,

Jerusalem, Israel, n-12 ; Anson and

Cummings, "The First Space War," p. 50 .

24 . USSPACECOM Assessment, p. 36 .

25 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1990, pp 141- 143.

26 . Ibid., pp. 143-145; Day, "A Review of

Recent American Military Space Operations," p. 472; USSPACECOM/SPJ30S, "Point

Paper on DMSP Performance in Desert

Storm," 2o February 1992.

27. History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1990, pp . 144-145;

1992; USSPACECOMAssessment, p.35.

28 . History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1990, pp. 144-145.

29 The Ultimate High Ground: Space

Support to the Army, pp. 5-8; USSPACECOM/

SPJ30S, "Point Paper on DMSP Performance

in Desert Storm," 2o February 1992;

USSPACECOM Assessment, pp. 35 - 38

30 . Department of Defense, Final Report

to Congress, Conduct of the Persian Gulf War,

Appendices A-S, April 1992, pp. K-4o, K-41 .

31 . The Ultimate High Ground : Space

Support to the Army, pp. 9-13 ; USSPACECOM

Assessment, pp. 35-38; Anson and Cummings,

"The First Space War," pp . 52-53.

32 . The Ultimate High Ground: Space

Support to the Army, pp. 9-13 ; USSPACECOM

Assessment, pp. 35-38.

33 .

The Ultimate High Ground: Space

Support to the Army, pp. 9-13 ; USSPACECOM

Assessment, pp. 35-38. It is estimated the

Pentagon spent close to $6 million for

Landsat and SPOT imagery during the

conflict . "Civil Remote-Sensing Data Played

Key Gulf War Role," Space News, 8-14 July

1991, pp. 3, 29 .

34.

USSPACECOMAssessment, p. 43 .

35 . Day, "A Review of Recent American

Military Space Operations," pp. 465-468;

John H. Cunningham, "The Role of

Satellites in the Gulf War," The Journal of

Practical Applications in Space, Vol. 2, No. 3

(Spring 1991), PP. 57- 58 . Prior to Desert

Storm, DSP had been used to monitor Iraqi

Scud launches in the Iran-Iraq Warin the

198os, and Constant Source terminals had

been tested in European exercises and

certified only six months prior to the Gulf

conflict . Anson and Cummings, "The First

Space War," p. 51

36 . Day, "A Review of Recent American

Military Space Operations," pp. 465-468;

John H. Cunningham, "The Role of

337
(Spring 

), pp 

57 -58 ;

Cummings, "The First Space War," p. 51 .

37 . Day, "A Review of Recent American

Military Space Operations," pp. 465-468;

John H. Cunningham, "The Role of Satellites in the Gulf War," The Journal of Practical Applications in Space, Vol. 2, No. 3

(Spring 1990, pp. 57 -58 ; Anson and

Cummings, "The First Space War," p. 51 .

38 . Cunningham, "The Role of Satellites

in the Gulf War," pp. 57-58; Anson and

Cummings, "The First Space War," p. 51 ;

AFSPACECOM Draft Briefing, "Space Operations for Desert Shield/Desert Storm,"

January 1991 .

39 . Quoted in DoD, Final Report to

Congress, Conductof the Persian Gulf War,

Appendices A-S, April 1992, p. K-30 .

40 . "Satcoms success story," Space

Markets Vol. 4, 1991, p. 10 ; Memorandum,

Deputy DSCS Program Manager, DCA, to

Commander, Air Force Space Command,

subj : DSCS-A Major Player in DESERT

STORM, 7 August 1991 .

41 . Air Staff, "Space Forces," USAF Input

for Defense Guidance on Space, ca. 1992 ;

"Satcoms success story," Space Markets Vol.

4, 1991, p. 1o ; Memorandum, Deputy DSCS

Program Manager, DCA, to Commander,

Air Force Space Command, subj : DSCS-A

Major Player in DESERT STORM, 7 August

1991 .

42 . USSPACECOM Assessment, p. 27.

43 . Background Papers, "Background

Paper on GPS Contributions to Desert

Storm," and "GPs Activity in Desert Storm,"

in AFSPACECOM, Desert Storm "Hot Wash,"

12-13 July 1991 ; USSPACECOM/HO, The Role

of Space Forces : Quotes from Desert Shield/

Desert Storm, May 1993, P.8.

44. Quoted in History, Air Force Space

Command, January-December 1991, p. 4.

45 . Presentation, Lt GenThomas S.

338

g, , 

p

1991, p. 8; "Satcoms success story," Space

Markets Vol. 4, 1991, p. 11 ; "Space Contribution to Weather Support," in AFSPACECOM,

Desert Storm "Hot Wash," 12-13 July 1991 .

46 . USSPACECOM Assessment, pp. 35 -38

USSPACECOM/SPJ30S, "DMSP Performance

in Desert Storm," 2o February 1992.

47 . USSPACECOM Assessment, pp. 44 - 45 .

48 . Day, "A Review of Recent American

Military Space Operations," pp. 459-465;

Day, "Transformation of National Security

Space Programs in the Post-Cold War Era,"

pp. 8-9; Anson and Cummings, "The First

Space War," pp. 50-51.

49 . Day, "A Review of Recent American

Military Space Operations," pp. 459-465;

Day, "Transformation of National Security

Space Programs in the Post-Cold War Era,"

pp. 8-9; Anson and Cummings, "The First

Space War," pp. 50-51. On the other hand,

General Schwartzkopf, in testimony before

Congress, was not pleased with the bomb

damage assessment reports he received from

the U.S . intelligence community. See Watson,

ed ., Military Lessons of the Gulf War, "Part if .

Diplomacy," p. 152.

50 . Day, "A Review of Recent American

Military Space Operations," pp . 465-468;

Cunningham, "The Role of Satellites in the

Gulf War," pp. 57-58; Anson and Cummings,

"The First Space War," p. 51 .

51 . See for example, Watson, ed ., Military

Lessons of the Gulf War, Appendix C: Iraqi

Scud Launches During the Gulf War.

Watson refers to Gen Merrill McPeak's Air

Campaign for his figures.

52 . Presentation, Lt Gen Thomas M.

Moorman, Jr., to Gen E.P. Rawlings Chapter, Air Force Association, Minneapolis,

Minnesota, "Space . . . The Future is Now,"

17 October 1991 .

53 .

Day, "Transformation of National
Militarization ofSpace: U.S . Policy, 194,51984

(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1985),

especially chapters 6 and 1o. For the Air

Force perspective in the early 199os, see

History, Air Force Space Command,

January-December 1991, pp. 121-130.

54 . Horner and Widnall are quoted in

Day, "Transformation of National Security

Space Programs in the Post-Cold War Era,"

p. 13 ; see also History, Air Force Space Command, January-December 1991, pp. 121-130 .

55 . Day, "Transformation of National

Security Space Programs in the Post-Cold

War Era," pp . 6-8; History, Air Force Space

Command, January-December 199o,

pp. 159-163; History, Air Force Space Command, January-December 1991, pp. 130-132.

On the need for a ballistic missile defense,

see General Horner's 2o April 1994 testimony

before the Senate Armed Services Committee, reprinted as Gen Charles A. Horner,

"Space Systems: Pivotal to Modern Warfare," Defense 94 (Issue 4, ca . Fall 1994), P. 24.

Also, replying to a query from Senator John

McCain, who asked General Horner and

several other space leaders for the ten most

important lessons emerging from Desert

Storm, the General listed as number one the

deployment of an operational BMDsystem .

Memorandum, subj : Lessons LearnedOperation Desert Storm, ca . 1 June 1991 .

56. Day, "Transformation of National Security Space Programs in the Post-Cold War

Era," pp . 6-8; History, Air Force Space Command, January-December 199o, pp. 159-163;

History, Air Force Space Command, Janu

ary-December 1991, pp. 130-132.

57. Day, "Transformation of National Security Space Programs in the Post-Cold War

Era," pp. 8-9.

58 . Ibid. ; Vice President's Space Policy

Advisory Board, A Post Cold War Assessment

ofU.S Space Policy : A Task Group Report

Moorman, Jr., Military Space Systems

Utility," Speech delivered to the 28th Space

Congress, Cocoa Beach, Florida, 24 April

1991, p. 8; "Space Contribution to Weather

Support," in AFSPACECOM, Desert Storm

"Hot Wash," 12-13 July 1991 ; USSPACECOM/

SPJ30S, "Point Paper on DMSP Performance

in Desert Storm," 2o February 1992 .

6o . Day, "Transformation of National

Security Space Programs in the Post-Cold

War Era," pp. 9-11 .

61 . USSPACECOMAssessment, pp. 45 - 46 ;

"Need an Advanced Multi-Spectral Imagery

(MSI) Capability," in AFSPACECOM, Desert

Storm "Hot Wash," 12-13 July 1991 .

62 . USSPACECOM Assessment, pp. 28-32;

Day, "Transformation of National Security

Space Programs in the Post-Cold War Era,"

pp. a-12.

63 . Day, "A Review of Recent American

Military Space Operations," pp. 465-468;

Day, "Transformation of National Security

Space Programs in the Post-Cold War Era,"

pp. 6-8.

64 . Day, "Transformation of National

Security Space Programs in the Post-Cold

War Era," pp. 6-8; USSPACECOMAssessment,

pp. 65-66; Gen Charles A. Horner, "Space

Systems. Pivotal to Modern Warfare," Defense

94 (issue 4, ca . Fall 1994), P. 25 ; Dwayne Day,

"Top Cover: Origins and Evolution of the

Defense Support Program, Part 3," Spaceflight

Vol. 38 (March 1996), p. 99 .

65 . Department of Defense, Annual Report to the President and the Congress, "Space

Forces," January 1994, pp. 227-228; Day,

"Transformation of National Security Space

Programs in the Post-Cold War Era," pp. 6-8

66 . The Ultimate High Ground: Space

Support to the Army, p. 17 ; USSPACECOM

Assessment, pp. 47-53.

67 . Day, "Transformation of National

Security Space Programs in the Post-Cold

339
Study of the MILSTAR Satellite Communications System, 31 July 1986 .

69 . Roger G. Guillemette, "Battlestar

America: Milstar Survives AWarWith

Congress," Countdown (November/

December 1994), P. 22 .

70 . James W. Rawles, "Milstar Soars Beyond Budget and Schedule Goals," Defense

Electronics (February 1989), pp. 66-72;

Guillemette, "Battlestar America," p. i9 ; Day,

"Transformation of National Security Space

Programs in the Post-Cold War Era," PP.3-4.

71 . Guillemette, "Battlestar America," pp.

22-23; Day, "Transformation of National

Security Space Programs in the Post-Cold

War Era," PP .3-4; "Satcoms success story,"

Space Markets Vol. 4, 1991, PP . 11-13; GAO

Report, DoDAcquisition: Case Study of the

MILSTAR Satellite Communications System,

1 . Headquarters USAF, Blue Ribbon Panel

of theAir Force in Space in the 21st Century:

Executive Summary (Washington, D.C . :

Headquarters USAF, 1992), p. iv, 1-2

2. Ibid., PP. 3-6.

3. Ibid ., pp. 7-8; Presentation, Sheila E.

Widnall, Secretary of the Air Force, to the

National Security Industrial Association,

Washington, D.C . Chapter, 22 March 1994 .

See especially, Vice President's Space Policy

Advisory Board, The Future of the U.S. Space

Launch Capability: A Task Group Report,

November 1992, chaired by E.C . Aldridge,

Jr . ; Vice President's Space Policy Advisory

Board, APost Cold War Assessment of U.S.

Space Policy: A Task Group Report, December

1992, headed by Laurel L. Wilkening.

4. Blue Ribbon Panel Executive Summary,

pp. 9-10 .

5. Ibid., pp. 14-20.

6. Ibid., pp. 21-23 ; Also see AFSPACECOM/

HO, Establishment of the Space Warfare

340

Cost-Saving Opportunities, 26 June 1992.

72 . "Satcoms success story," Space Markets

Vol. 4, 1991, P. 13 . For the case against small

satellites, see Col Owen E. Jensen, "Space

Support to Tactical Forces," Military Review

(November 1992), pp. 64-71.

73 . USSPACECOM Assessment, pp. 61, 62,

64 . The payloads launched between 2 August

and 1 December 1990 were: three GPS, one

DSP, one DMSP, and one classified .

74. "America's Future in Space," Space

Markets (1/1991), pp. 20-25; Vice President's

Space Policy Advisory Board, The Future of

the U.S. Space Launch Capability: A Task

Group Report, November 1992 .

75 . Department of Defense, Annual

Report to the President and the Congress,

"Space Forces," January 1994, p 226.

Chapter 8. An Air Force Vision for the Military Space Mission

Center : A BriefHistory, ca . 1994 .

7. History, Air Force Space Command,

January 1992-December 1993, PP. 16, 19 .

8. Blue Ribbon Panel Executive Summary,

pp. 25 - 26 .

9. Ibid., p. 27

1o. TomCull, "GAO Frowns on USAF Bid

to Lead Space as DoD Officials Pitch Idea on

Hill," Inside the Air Force, l9 August 1994, P. 3.

11 . Ibid.

12. Presentation, Gen Merrill A. McPeak,

"Spacetalk 94," 16 September 1994, p. 1 .

13 . Ibid., pp. 2-4.

14. Ibid., PP.4-6.

15 . Office of the Secretary of the Air

Force, Policy Letter, "Goals For OurSpace

Program," October 1994

16 . USAF Air University, Spacecast 2020,

22 June 1994; Speech, Gen Michael P. C.

Carns, USAF (Ret), Closing Remarks to the

National Security Industrial Association

Spacecast 2020 Symposium, Washington,
USAF (Ret), Closing Remarks to the

National Security Industrial Association

Spacecast 2020 Symposium, Washington,

D.C ., 9-1o November 1994 .

18 . Scientific Advisory Board, New World

Vistas: Air and Space Powerfor the 21st Century, 15 vols ., December 1995 See especially,

"Summary Volume," and "Space Applica

tions Volume."

19 . Scientific Advisory Board, New World

PP- 3- 4, 42 -48, 57 -64 .

20 . The report of the AFA group is condensed in, "Facing Up to Space," Air Force

Magazine (January 1995), PP. 50 - 54.

21 . Ibid.

22 . Interview, George WBradley,

AFSPACECOM/HO, with Gen Charles A.

Horner, AFSPACECOM/CC, transcript,

"Space in the Gulf War," 28 January 1993,

Peterson AFB, CO .
y

AACB Aeronautics and Astronautics Coordinating Board

AAF Army Air Forces

ABM Anti-Ballistic Missile

ABMA Army Ballistic Missile Division

ADCOM Aerospace Defense Command

ADCSP Advanced Defense Communications Satellite Program

AEC Atomic Energy Commission

AFB Air Force Base

AFBMD Air Force Ballistic Missile Division

AFSATCOM Air Force Satellite Communications

AFSC Air Force Systems Command

AFSCN Air Force Satellite Control Network

AFSTC Air Force Space Test Center

ALARM Alert, Locate and Report Missiles

ALDP Advanced Launch Development Program

ALS Advanced Launch System

AMC Air Materiel Command

ARDC Air Research and Development Command

ARPA Advanced Research Projects Agency

ARS Advanced Reconnaissance System

ASAT Antisatellite

BMD Ballistic Missile Division (ARDC)

BMEWS Ballistic Missile Early Warning System

BMO Ballistic Missile Office (AFSC)

BSTS Boost Surveillance and Tracking System

CDC Control Data Corporation

CELV Complimentary Expendable Launch Vehicle

CIA Central Intelligence Agency

CMLC Civilian-Military Liaison Committee

COMSAT Communications Satellite

CONAD Continental Air Defense Command

CSOC Consolidated Space Operations Center

DARPA Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency

DCA Defense Communications Agency

DCS Defense Communications System

DCS Deputy Chief of Staff

DDR&E Director of Defense Research and Engineering
343

DoD Department of Defense

DSAP Defense Satellite Applications Program

DSCS Defense Satellite Communications System

DSP Defense Support Program

EHF Extremely High Frequency

ELV Expendable Launch Vehicle

ETR Eastern Test Range

FEWS Follow-on Early Warning System

FLTSATCOM Fleet Satellite Comunications

FOB Fractional Orbital Bombardment

FY Fiscal Year

GALCIT Guggenheim Aeronautical Laboratory, California Institute of

Technology

GAO General Accounting Office

GEODSS Ground-based Electro-optical Deep Space Surveillance (System)

GOR General Operational Requirement

GPS Global Positioning System

HETS Hyper-environmental Test System

ICBM Intercontinental Ballistic Missile

IDCSP Initial Defense Communication Satellite Program

IDSCS Initial Defense Satellite Communications System

IGY International Geophysical Year

INSSCC Interim National Space Surveillance and Control Center

IOC Initial Operational Capability

IONDS Integrated Operational Nuclear Detonation Detection System

IRBM Intermediate Range Ballistic Missile

IUS Inertial Upper Stage

JATO Jet-assisted Take-off

JCS Joint Chiefs of Staff

JPL Jet Propulsion Laboratory

JSC Johnson Space Center

LES Lincoln Experimental Satellite

LORAN Long Range Navigation

MAC Military Airlift Command

MAJCOM Major Command
344

MILSATCOM Military Satellite Communications

MIRV Multiple Independently Targetable Reentry Vehicle

MISS Man-in-Space-Soonest

MIT Massachusetts Institute of Technology

MODS Military Orbital Development System

MOL Manned Orbiting Laboratory

MOTIF Maui Optical Tracking and Identification Facility

MRBM Medium Range Ballistic Missile

MSFSG Manned Space Flight Support Group

MSI Multi-spectral Imagery

MX Missile Experimental

NACA National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics

NASA National Aeronautics and Space Administration

NASC National Aeronautics and Space Council

NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organization

NOAA National Oceanographic and Atospheric Administration

NOMSS National Operational Meteorological Satellite System

NORAD North American Air (or Aerospace) Defense Command

NRD National Range Division

NRO National Reconnaissance Office

NSA National Security Agency

NSC National Security Council

OAR Office of Aerospace Research

OLS Operational Linescan System

OOS Orbit-to-Orbit Shuttle

ORDCIT Ordnance, California Institute of Technology

OSD Office of the Secretary of Defense

OSTP Office of Science and Technology Policy

PSAC Presidential Scientific Advisory Committee

R&D Research and Development

RDO Research and Development Objective

ROC Required Operational Capability

SAC Strategic Air Command

SALT Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty

SAMSO Space and Missile Systems Organization

SAMTEC Space and Missile Test Center
345

SCORE Signal Communications by Orbiting Relay Equipment

SD Space Division (AFSC)

SDIO Strategic Defense Initiative Organization

SHF Super High Frequency

Slop Single Integrated Operations Plan

SLBM Sea-launched Ballistic Missile

SLC Space Launch Complex

SLGR Small, Lightweight GPS Receiver

SLV Standard Launch Vehicle

SMEC Strategic Missiles Evaluation Committee

SOPC Shuttle Operations and Planning Complex

SPADATS Space Detection and Tracking System

SPADOC Space Defense Operations Center

SSD Space Systems Division (AFSC)

STC Satellite Test Center

TAC Tactical Air Command

TENCAP Tactical Exploitation of National Capabilities

TIROS Television and Infra-red Observing Satellite

TRW Thompson, Ramo, Wooldridge, Inc.

UHF Ultra High Frequency

UN United Nations

USAF United States Air Force

USAFR United States Air Force Reserve

VHF Very High Frequency

WDD Western Development Division

WS Weapon System

WTR Western Test Range
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1955-1960 . AFSC Historical Publications Series 65-21-1 . Los Angeles, CA: Space

Systems Division, January 1965 .

Space Systems Division (AFSC). Space and Missile Systems Organization: A Chronology, 1954 - 1979 Los Angeles, CA: Space Systems Division, n.d.

Space Systems Division (AFSC) . Space Division: A Chronology, ig8o-i984 . Los

Angeles, CA: Space Systems Division, n.d .

Handbooks/Readings Books

Readings in Astronautics and Space Operations. Air Force ROTC. Maxwell AFB, AL:

Air University Press, 1971 .

Selected Readings on Space. Warfare Systems School. Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University

Press, January 1968.

Space Handbook. A Warfighter's Guide to Space. Vol 1 . AU-18. Maxwell AFB, AL: Air

University Press, December 1993 .

Space Handbook. AU-18. Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press, August 1977.

Space Handbook. AU-18. Maxwell AFB, AL: Air University Press, July 1972.

Official Histories

Air Force Space Command

Space Command. History of Space Command, ADCOM, ADC, 1982 .

Space Command. History of Space Command, ADCOM, January-December 1983 .

366
py , 

p

Command, January-December 1985 .

Air Force Space Command. History of Air Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 1986 .

Air Force Space Command. History of Air Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 1987 .

Air Force Space Command. History of Air Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 1988.

Air Force Space Command. History of Air Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 1989 .

Air Force Space Command. History ofAir Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 199o .

Air Force Space Command. History ofAir Force Space Command, JanuaryDecember 1991 .

Air Force Space Command. History of Air Force Space Command, January 1992-

December 1993 .

Air Research and Development Command

Air Research and Development Command. History of Headquarters, Air Research

and Development Command, Vol l, 1 July-31 December 1959 .

Air Research and Development Command. History of Headquarters, Air Research

and Development Command. Vol 1, 1 January-31 March 1961 .

Space and Missile Systems Organization

Space and Missile Systems Organization . History ofSpace and Missile Systems

Organization, 1 July 1972-3o June 1973.

Space and Missile Systems Organization . History of Space and Missile Systems

Organization, 1 July 1973-3o June 1975 .

Space Division

Space Division . History of Space Division, October 1981-September 1982.

Space Division . History of Space Division, October 1982-September 1983 .

Space Division . History of Space Division, October 1983-September 1984.

Space Division . History of Space Division, October 1984-September 1985 .

Space Division . History of Space Division, October 1985-September 1986.

367
Space Division . History of Space Division, October 1988-September 1989.

Space Division . History of Space Division, October 1989-September 199o.

Space Division . History of Space Division, October 199o-September 1991 .

United States Space Command

US Space Command. United States Space Command, Command History, September 1985-December 1986.

US Space Command. United States Space Command, Command History, January

1987-December 1988 .

Other

Aerospace Defense Command. History of ADCOM/ADC,1 January-31 December

1979

Berger, Carl. The Air Force in Space, Fiscal Year 1961 . Vol. SHO-S-66/14 2 Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison Office, April 1966.

Berger, Carl. The Air Force in Space, Fiscal Year 1962 . Vol. SHO-S-66/19 8 Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison Office, June 1966.

Cantwell, Gerald T. The Air Force in Space, Fiscal Year 1964. Vol. SHO-S-67/52

Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison Office, June 1967.

Cantwell, Gerald T. The Air Force in Space, Fiscal Year 1965, Vol. SHO-S-68/186

Washington, D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison Office, April 1968.

Cantwell, Gerald T. The Air Force in Space, Fiscal Year 1967, Part 1 . Washington,

D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison Office, May 1970.

Neufeld, Jacob. The Air Force in Space, 1970-1974. Washington, D.C . : Office of Air

Force History, August 1976 .

Rosenberg, Max. The Air Force in Space, 1959-196o . Vol. SHO-S-62/112 Washington,

D.C . : USAF Historical Division Liaison Office, June 1962.

368
Aerospace Defense Center (ADC), 204

Aerospace Defense Command (ADCOM),

179, 184, 187, 193-196, 204-2o6, 219

Aerospace Force, 202, 205

Africa, 166

Agena, 45, 71, 120, 163, 173, 272

Aircraft

B-52, 257

C-130, 251

C- 5, 133

2o8-211, 216, 217, 219-221, 230-233, 235-242,

246-249, 251, 252, 254- 256, 260-262, 268,

274, 275, 277, 278, 281, 283

Air Force Space Master Plan (1981), 201

Air Force Space Plan, 219, 220

Air Force Space Plan (Sep 1961), 104, u8,121

Air Force Space Policy (1988), 238

Air Force Space Surveillance Element, 237

Air Force Space Test Center (AFSTC), 169

Air Force Systems Command (AFSC), 9o,

369

Objectives, 192

F-117 Stealth, 255

A- 4, 5, 10 F-15, 133, 188

Able (Modified Vanguard), 163 F-16, 257

Abrahamson, James A., Maj Gen, 224, 227 Air Defense Command (ADC), 72, 155,161,

Advanced Defense Communications 184

Satellite Program, 139 Air Force Academy, 281

Advanced Launch Development Program Air Force Association, 279

(ALDP), 238 Air Force Association Advisory Group on

Advanced Launch System (ALS), 227, 229, Roles and Missions, 282

237, 238, 282 Air Force Cambridge Research Center,

Advanced Reconnaissance System (ARS), 37, Massachusetts, 17,148, 161

39, 45, 55, 58, 59 Air Force Communications Command, 193

Advanced Research Projects Agency Air Force Configuration Control Board,

(ARPA), 51, 53, 57 - 60, 65-67, 69, 70, 72, 74, 120

75, 79, 8o, 83, 93, 103, 137, 138, 144, 153, 162, Air Force Global Weather Center, 212

272 Air Force Investment Strategy for Space,

Advanced Satellite Technology Program, 236

234 Air Force Logistics Command (AFLC), 9o

Advanced Satellite Test Center, 167 Air Force Manual 1-1 (AFM 1-1), 2o6

Advanced Warning System, 264 Air Force Manual 1-2, USAF Basic Doctrine,

Advent, 73, 87, 138-140, 142, 144, 146 54

Aerobee, 17, 42 Air Force Missile Test Center, 107

Aerojet (General) Engineering Company, 7, Air Force Objective Series (AFOS), 83

159 Air Force Satellite Communications

Aerojet Able, 164 (AFSATCOM), 145, 213

Aerojet Able Star, 163, 164 Air Force Satellite Control Facility (SCF),

Aeromedical Field Laboratory, 73 16o, 167, 168, 169

Aeromedical Laboratory, 73 Air Force Satellite Control Network, 216,

Aeronautical Systems Division (AFSC), 9o 232

Aeronautics and Astronautics Coordinating Air Force School of Aviation Medicine, 73

Board (AACB), 81, 1o6, 125 Air Force Scientific Advisory Board, lol,

Aerospace Corporation, The, 86, 95, 99 ,139, 224

146, 147, 150, 273 Air Force Space Command, 176, 194, 201,
, , , , , , , ,

217, 219, 220, 221, 230-233, 238-240, 247, 273

Air Forces Scientific Advisory Group, 8

Air Materiel Command, 8, 9, 20, 22, 25-27,

34, 35, 89, 9o

Air Research and Development Command

(ARDC), 22, 23, 24, 28, 31, 33, 34, 36 - 38, 43,

44, 46, 58, 59, 89, 120, 121, 137

Air Staff, 20, 22, 24, 26, 35, 44, 46, 55, 56, 58,

59, 67, 69, 71, 76, 79, 83, 87, 89, 9o, 103, 104,

111, 116, 121, 130, 157, 159, 189, 191-195, 198,

203, 204, 207, 221, 230

Air University, 22, 235, 281

Air Weather Service, 251

Aldridge, Edward C., "Pete," 202, 204, 205,

224-227, 229, 231, 233, 237, 268, 276

Alert Locate and Report Missiles System

(ALARM), 265

Aleutian Chain, 186

Allen, Lew, General, 194-196, 199, 201-205,

224

American Ordnance Association, 102

American Rocket Society, 6, 102

Ames Aeronautical Laboratory, 65

Anderson, Clinton, Sen., 34

Anderson, O. A., General, 22

Anderson, Samuel, E., General, 59

Anderson Committee, 22

Andrews Air Force Base, 169

Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM), 179

Antisatellite System (ASAT), 188

Apollo 11, 18o

Apollo 9, 145, 174, 176,177

Apollo Applications Program, 123, 131, 18o

Applied Physics Laboratory (APL) Johns

Hopkins, 150

Applied Physics Laboratory (Johns Hopkins

University), 17

Arab-Israeli Conflict (1973), 176

Arabsat, 245

ARDC Test Radar, 72

Army Apache Attack Helicopters, 257

Army Ballistic Missile Agency (ABMA), 52,

65, 76

370

y 

Army Satellite Communications Agency,

139

Army Space Command, 250, 277

Arnold, Henry H. "Hap", General,

13, 17, 18, 20, 29, 33, 48, 49, 270

Arnold Engineering Development

173

Ascension Island, 166

Aspin, Les, 265

Assured Access to Space During the 199o's,

227

2, 3, 7, 9-

Center,

Assured Mission Support Space Architecture

Study, 236

Atkinson, J.H., Lt Gen, 155

Atlantic Missile Range, 70, 88

Atlantic Ocean, 142, 143, 145, 160, 247, 254

Atlas Agena A, 164

Atlas Agena B, 139, 153, 163, 164

Atlas Agena D, 139, 163, 164

Atlas B, 138

Atlas Centaur, 139

Atlas D, 88, 94

Atlas E, 158, 164, 240, 251

Atlas F, 164

Atlas ICBM/Booster, 18, 21, 24, 32-35, 37 39,

42 - 46, 49, 70, 73, 84, 87, 120, 121, 163, 164,

212, 225, 266, 271, 272

Atlas 11, 225, 229, 240

Atlas Scientific Advisory Committee, 33

Atlas-Agena, 71, 156, 158

Atomic Energy Commission, 28,153

Atomic Energy Committee, 24

Augenstein, Bruno W., 32

Augustine, Norman R., 268

Augustine Committee, 268

Automatic Picture Transmission, 170

Baghdad, Iraq, 249, 255, 257

Bahrain, 245

Baker-Nunn Satellite Tracking Cameras, 72,

161, 162, 187

Ballistic Missile Division, 44, 54, 57, 68, 70,

78,89
Ballistic Missile Office (BMO),196

Ballistic Missiles Center, 89

Bambi (Space Based Anti-Ballistic Missile

Concept), 103, 123, 124

Banana River Naval Air Station, Florida,

166

Bangkok, Thailand, 171

Basra, 257

Beacon Hill Study, 28, 29

Beale Air Force Base, California, 187

Bell Aerosystems, 164

Bell Laboratories, 4

Bermuda, 145

Bissell, Richard M., Jr., 41, 85

Blue Cube, 167,168

Blue Gemini, 117, 121, 122

Blue Ribbon Panel, 210

Blue Ribbon Panel Implementation Plan,

238

Blue Ribbon Panel on Space Roles and

Missions, 230, 233, 234, 236, 238, 239, 241,

242, 275-278, 28o

Blue Scout, 103

Boeing Burner II, 164

Bomi (Bomber Missile), 74

Boone, W. F., Admiral, 120,122

Boost Surveillance and Tracking System,

264,265

Bossart, Karel, 21

Bottom-up Review, 265, 267, 268

Boushey, Homer A., General, 55, 57, 59, 76,

79, 86, 121

Bowles, Edward L., Dr., 9

Brass Bell, 74

Brilliant Eyes, 261, 262, 264, 265

Brilliant Pebbles, 261

British Falkland Islands, 244

British Interplanetary Society, 40

British Skynet,141, 246, 248

Brooks, Overton, Sen., 81, 88, 91, 1o1

Brown, Harold, Dr., 1o6, 109, u3, 124, 125,

126, 130, 131, 156, 157, 159, 190

Buck Rogers, 7

Bureau of the Budget, 132

Burke, Arleigh, Admiral, 76, 77, 84, 172, 205,

219

Bush, Vannevar, 3, 11, 12, 19, 48

Bush, George H. W., President, 243, 268

Bush Administration, 263, 275, 276

California Institute of Technology (Cal

Tech), 2, 3, 739, 65, 157

Cambridge Research Center (Massachusetts), 72

Camp Cooke, California, 166

Camp Parks Communications Annex, 168

Canada, 39,179, 219

Cape Canaveral (Kennedy), Florida, 75,107,

111,120,145,146,149,163,165,166

Carns, Michael P C., General, 28o, 281

Carter, Launor F., 118

Carter, Jimmy, President, 189, 190, 2o8

Carter Administration, 178, 189, 19o, 196,

200,223

Centaur, 72, 164, 224, 225

Chain, John T, General, 199, 204, 205

Challenger (STS Mission 51-L), 210, 216, 217,

221-223, 226-228, 231, 232, 241, 246, 248,

268, 275

Charyk, Joseph V, 85, 86, 9o, 156

Cheap Satellites (CHEAPSATs), 234

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, 197, 219,

237, 254

Chidlaw, Benjamin W., General, 20

China, 23, 185

Chrysler Corporation, 23, 42

CIA (Central Intelligence Agency), 31, 41, 84,

85,272

Civilian-Military Liaison Committee, 63, 81

Clark, Wesley G., Brig Gen, 194, 220, 221

Clark University, 6

Clarke, Arthur C., 137, 138, 146

Clay, Lucius D., Jr., General, 184

Clear Air Force Station, Alaska, 162, 211

Clements, William P., 151

Clinton Administration, 265, 268

371
Cobra Dane, 186

Cold War, 20, 241, 243, 255, 26o, 262, 263,

267, 269, 270, 278, 283, 284

Collbohm, Franklin, 9

Combined Operations Center, 161

Commercial Space Launch Act (1984), 226

Committee on Guided Missiles, 19

Communications By Moon Relay, 138

Communications Satellite Corporation

(COMSAT), 139, 171, 245, 246, 256

Complementary Expendable Launch

Vehicles (CELVs), 225, 226

Congress, 23, 35, 40, 56-58, 61, 63, 67, 76, 82,

86, 92, 104, 1o6, 132, 176, 181, 188, 204, 218,

225-227, 264, 266, 267, 276, 278

Consolidated Space Operations Center

(CSOC), 197, 203, 211, 214, 216, 217, 254

Continental Air Defense Command

(CONAD), 161

Control Data Corporation (CDC), 167

Convair (Consolidated Vultee Aircraft

Corporation), 18, 20, 21, 23, 29, 31-34, 27 ,

Corona Conference, 194, 195, 199

Corona Pine, 194

CORONA Project, 58, 67, 71, 84, 85, 103, 112,

152, 153, 155, 156, 163, 165, 166, 167, 272, 274

Corona South, 203, 204

Courier, 138, 140

Cuban Missile Crisis, uo

Currie, Malcolm, Dr., 188, 189

Dahlgren, Virginia, 72, 161

DATS 1 (Despun Antenna Test Satellite), 141

Davis, Leighton L, Maj Gen, 107

Davis, Bennie L., General, 204,215

DC-3 (of the space age), 165

Debus, Kurt H., Dr., 107

Defense Advanced Research Projects

Agency (DARPA), 189, 233, 234, 267

Defense Astronautical Agency, 77

Defense Communications Agency (DCA),

138, 139, 141, 142, 176, 213, 246-248

Defense Communications System (DCS), 138

Defense Department Directive 5160.2, 230

372

Defense Mapping Agency, 214

Defense Meteorological Satellite Program

(DMSP), 146-148, 164, 166, 170, 172, 173, 175,

186, 211, 212, 225, 229, 238, 250-252, 257, 258,

263, 264, 274, 283

Defense Navigation Satellite Development

Program, 151

Defense Reorganization Act, 1958, 67

Defense Satellite Applications Program

(DSAP) (or Program 417), 147,148

Defense Satellite Communications System

(DSCS), 137, 143, 172, 175, 185, 213, 214, 229,

238, 245-248, 254, 256, 266, 267, 274, 283

Defense Satellite Communications System I

(DSCS I), 14),142

Defense Satellite Communications System

II (DSCS 11), 141, 142, 143,168, 185, 246

Defense Satellite Communications System

III (DSCS 111), 185, 213, 246, 267

Defense Satellite Communications System

Indian Ocean (DSCS 10-11), 246, 247

Defense Science Board, 224, 237

Defense Support Program (DSP), 152, 154,

16o, 175, 184, 185, 187,211-213, 216, 222, 228,

254, 255, 259, 262, 265, 272, 274

Delta, 164, 222

Delta 11, 228, 229, 232, 233, 238, 240, 248

Dembling, Paul, 62

Denver, Colorado, 16o

Department of Commerce, 147

Department of Defense, 12, 20, 26, 27, 29, 38,

42 -44, 46, 47, 51, 52, 56 - 64, 66, 67, 69, 78-

82, 85, 88-92, 94, 96 - 103, 105-109, 111-123,

125, 127, 128,130- 137,139,140, 142, 144, 147,

148, 151, 152, 154, 155, 157, 159, 167, 16g,172-

174,176,177,18o, 183, 186-19o, 192, 193, 196,

200, 202, 203, 205-207, 212-214, 216, 217,

222-233, 235, 241, 264, 269, 273-280, 282-

284

Department of Transportation, 214

Deutch, John, 278

DEW (Distant Early Warning), 39

Diplomatic Telecommunications System,

143
, 

16o, 229

Discoverer, 58, 67, 71, 77, 87, 94, 103, 153, 155,

156, 163, 165, 167, 168

Diyarbakir, Turkey, 161

DODGE 1 (Navy gravity gradient Spacecraft), 141

Doolittle, James H., "Jimmy," Lt Gen, 22, 61

Doploc, 72

Doppler Radar, 150, 161

Dornberger, Walter, Captain, 5, 6

Douglas, Donald, 9

Douglas, James H., 53, 76, 79, 86

Douglas Aircraft Company, 9,130

Dryden, Hugh L., 61

Dryden, Hugh, 75

DuBridge, Lee A., 39

Dulles, Alan, 41

Dyna-Soar (X-MA), 4, 56, 74-76, 78, 79, 87,

94, 97, 102, 104-to6, 109, 120-127, 133, 134,

181

Faker, Ira C., Lt Gen, 133

Eastern Space and Missile Center, 196

Eastern Test Range, 163, 164, 165, 169, 196

Eastman Kodak, 28

Easton, Roger, 151

East-West Summit Conference, 84

Edwards Air Force Base, California, 65, 162,

173

Eglin Air Force Base, Florida, 162

Eisenhower, Dwight D., President, 29, 30,

35, 38 - 40, 45 - 47 49, 50, 52, 61, 63, 65, 71, 75,

79 - 81, 84, 138, 171

Eisenhower Administration, 29, 47, 50, 51,

80, 91, 92, 93, 98, 99, loo, 102, 110, 172, 177,

262, 266-268, 270-272

Electronics Division (AFSC), 9o

Eniwetok, 24

Ent Air Force Base, Colorado, 161

Ercoupe, 7

Estes, Howell M., Jr., Lt Gen, 9o, 116,117

Estes Study, 116

Ethiopia, 141

Explorer, 51-53

Fairchild Air Force Base, Washington, 212,

251

Falcon Air Force Station, Colorado, 211,

214, 226, 232

Federal Council on Science and Technology, 176

Ferguson, James L., Lt Gen, 104-1o6, 1u, 116,

n8, 121, 128, 130, 135

Fink, Daniel J., 276

Finletter, Thomas K., 23

Five-Year Space Plan (1962), 130

Five-Year Space Program Study, 116, 117

Flax, Alexander, 129, 130

Fleet Satellite Communications

(FLTSATCOM), 145, 164, 213, 246-248, 267

Fogelman, Ronald R., General, 281

Follow-on Early Warning System (FEWS),

265, 282

Ford, Gerald R., 19o

Ford Administration, 189

Fort Bliss, Texas, 17

Fourteenth Air Force, 278

Friendship 7, no

Future of the U.S. Space Industrial Base,

The, 276

Future of the U.S . Space Launch Capability,

The, 276

Fylingdales, England, 162

Gabriel, Charles A., General, 2o6, 207, 218,

219, 229

Gagarin, Yuri, 91,1o1

Gardner, Trevor, 31-35, 37 -39, 49, 87, 91, 92,

98,103

Gates, Thomas, 84

Gemini, 97, 1o8,117,121-128

Gemini B, 130

Gemini Policy Planning Board, 131

Gemini Program Planning Board, 122

General Accounting Office, 203, 224, 226,

233, 279

373
German Society for Space Flight, 5

Getting, Ivan A., 150

Gillette, Hyde, 35

Gilpatrick, Roswell L., 86, 89-91, 1o7, 1o9

Glasser, Otto J ., General, 44, 90

Glenman, Keith, 65, 78

Glenn, John H., Jr., Colonel, 110, u1

Global Positioning System (GPS), 149, 150,

151, 154, 165, 172, 175, 184, 216, 228, 232, 237,

245, 248- 250, 256, 257, 264, 274, 277

Global Positioning System II(GPS I1), 248,

249

Global Weather Central, 148

Goddard, Robert, 5-7

Granada, 244

Great Society, 97, 132

Greer, Robert E., Brig Gen, 85

Griggs, David, 16

Griggs, David, 25

Grimminger Report, 40

Grissom, Virgil L, "Gus," 110

Ground Mobile Forces, 143

Ground-based Electro-optical Deep Space

Surveillance (GEODSS) System, 162, 187

Guam, 141

Guggenheim Aeronautical Laboratory

(GALCIT), 2, 3, 14

Guggenheim Foundation, 6

Guided Missile Development Division

(Army), 40

Guided Missiles Committee, 24

Gulf War, 244, 255, 260-264, 266, 270

Hall, Albert C., 129

Hall, Harvey, Dr., 14

Halley's Comet, 221

Hartinger, James V., General, 203-205, 215,

218, 219

Hawaii, 141, 145, 168, 169

H-Bomb, 24

Henry, Richard C., Lt Gen, 199, 203

Herres, Robert T., General, 227,230

High Speed Flight Station (Edwards Air

Force Base), 65

374

Holloman, Air Force Base, New Mexico, 73

Holzapple, Joseph R., Maj Gen, 91, 92

Horner, Charles A., General, 261, 265, 284

House Resolution 5130, 202

House Science and Technology Committee,

176

Hughes Aircraft Company, 145, 150, 248

Hussein, Saddam, 243, 253, 259, 26o

Hyper-Environmental Test System (HETS),

87

Hywards, 74

ICBM (Intercontinental Ballistic Missile),

10, 11, 12, 13, 16, 19, 21, 23, 24, 26, 29, 32 -35,

37, 39, 41, 43, 46, 47, 70, 71, 73, 99, 154- 157,

16o, 166, 178, 179, 254, 271

Indian Ocean, 142, 16o, 246-248, 254

Inertial Upper Stage (IUS), 183, 223, 224

Inglewood, California, 38, 86

Initial Defense Communication Satellite

Program (IDCSP), 139, 164, 170, 185

Initial Defense Satellite Communication

System (IDSCS), 140, 141, 143, 168

Inmarsat, 245

Integrated Operational Nuclear Detonation

System (IONDS), 154

Intelligence Operations Center, 237

Intelsat, 245

Interim Agreement On Strategic Offensive

Weapons (SALT 1),178

Interim National Space Surveillance and

Control Center (INSSCC), 72, 161

International Astronautical Federation, 40

International Geophysical Year, 2, 30, 38,

40- 44 52

Iraq, 243, 245, 247, 248, 251, 255, 256, 259

IRBM (Intermediate Range Ballistic Missile),

37 - 39, 41, 46, 70, 166

Iron Curtain, 27

Israel, 259

Jackson, Henry M., Sen., 34

James, Daniel "Chappie," General, 193

Japan, 250, 263
98, 10e, 125, 129, 140

Johnson, Roy, 58, 59, 62, 66, 67, 77

Johnson Administration, 132, 136

Johnson Space Center, 183, 197, 223, 226

Johnston Island, 188

Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS), 72, 76, 155, j61,

189, 195, 196, 205, 207, 217-219, 230, 231, 247,

248,276-278

Joint Requirements Oversight Council, 280

Joint Space Management Board, 28o

Joint Subcommittee on Space Science and

Applications, 227

Jones, David C., General,

205, 207

Juno, 17

Jupiter, 17, 39, 42, 46, 6o

191, 192, 194,

Keese, William B., Maj Gen, 103

Keller, T.K ., 23

Kennedy, John E, President, 5o, 86, 88, 92,

94, 98, 102, 105, 1o6, 1o9,, no, 181

Kennedy Administration, 96-98, 102, 1o6,

112, 134, 136, 155, 156, 177, 273

Kennedy Space Center, 183, 223

Keyworth, Jay, 225

Killian, James, 30, 32, 39, 52, 61, 63

Killian Panel, 39, 52

King, William G., Jr ., Colonel, 37

Kirtland Air Force Base, New Mexico, 203,

205

Kistiakowsky, George B., 85

Knopow, Joseph J., 45

Korea, 141

Korean War, 23, 28, 29

Kramer, Ken, 202, 205

Kuter, Lawrence S., General, 155, 161

Kutyna, Donald J., General, 227, 235, 239,

240, 242, 249

Kuwait, 243, 251, 253, 255, 256

Kuwait City, 247

Lacrosse Radar Imaging Satellite, 258

Laika, 52

Laird, Melvin R., 132, 1 33 , 135, 172, 173

196,

Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, 65

Langley Field (AFB), 3

Laredo, Texas, 72

Launch Operations Transfer Steering

Committee, 240

Launch Service Organization, 224

Launch Vehicle Panel, 1o6

Lawrence Radiation Laboratory, 149, 153

Leaf, Howard, General, 202

Leased Satellites (Leasat), 248

Leghorn, Richard, Lt Col, 28

LeMay, Curtis E., General, 9, 14, 16, 18, 19,

27, 48, 55, 78, 98, 102, 1o6,114, 121, 130, 156,

157

Lemnitzer, Lyman, General, 91

LES-1 (Lincoln Laboratory Experimental

Tactical Satellites), 144

LESS (Lincoln Laboratory Experimental

Tactical Satellites), 141, 144

LES-6 (Lincoln Laboratory Experimental

Tactical Satellites), 144

Lewis Flight Propulsion Laboratory, 65

Libya, 245

Lighter Satellites (LIGHTSATs), 234

Limited Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, 153

Lincoln Laboratories, 72, 138, 144, 213

Lipp, James E., 25, 36, 44

Lockheed, 37, 44, 45, 71, 159, 167, 182, 213, 272

Long Range Navigation (LORAN), 149,150

Long Range Proving Ground, 166

Loring Air Force Base, Maine, 212, 251

Los Angeles, California, 33, 34, 166, 169

Low Data Rate Communications, 266

Lunney, Glynn, 226

MacIntyre, Malcolm A., 54, 66, 68, 70

MACSAT, 267

Mahe Island, Indian Ocean, 167

Malina, Frank, 3, 7,17

Man Very High, 75

Manned Orbital Research Laboratory, 124

Manned Orbiting Laboratory (MOL), 97,

126-135, 167, 176, 18o, 183, 273

Manned Space Flight Panel, 1o6, 125

375
129, 130, 157

McNamara, Robert, 89-92,94,96, 98-1oo,

105, 1o6, 111 - 113, 115, 116, 121 - 123,125, 126,

128-130, 139, 140, 142, 154, 156, 158, 165, 169,

181, 273

McNarney, Joseph T., Lt Gen, 18

McPeak, Merrill, General, 244, 257, 275, 278 -

28o, 282

Medaris, John B., General, 42, 53, 65, 76, 78

Medium Range Ballistic Missiles (MLBM),

159

MER I, (Manned Earth Reconnaissance), 75

Merritt Island, 107

Meteor Satellites (European, Russian)

(METEOSATs), 251

MIDAS (Missile Launch Detection Alarm

System), 45, 58, 66, 69, 71, 72, 77, 78, 84, 87,

376

09Y, 39

Mobile System for Accurate ICBM Control

(Mosaic), 150

Moffett Field, 3

Momyer, William, General, 141, 169

Moorman, Thomas S ., Jr., General, 194, 195,

200, 240, 246, 249, 252, 260, 275, 276

Mosaic Sensor System, 185

Moscow, Russia, 19o

MOUSE (Minimum Orbital Unmanned

Satellite, Earth), 40

Multiple Access Communications Satellite,

248

Multi-spectral Imagery (MSI), 252-254, 263,

264

Mutual Assured Destruction, 218

Mutual Assured Survival, 218

pgppp, 

y)

March Field (AFB), 2 Middle East, 246, 247, 250, 255

Mark, Hans, Dr., 175, 193, 194, 198, 200 Military Airlift Command (MAC), 184, 252

Mars, 18o Military-Man-in-Space Project, 233

Marsh, Robert T., General, 203 Military Orbital Development System

Marshall Space Flight Center, 65 (MODS), 117, 121, 126

Martin, Glenn L., 37 Military Satellite Communications

Martin, John, 188 (MILSATCOM), 138, 139, 213, 265, 266

Martin-Marietta, 124, 163 Military Strategic and Tactical Relay System

Massachusetts Institute of Technology (Milstar), 212, 213, 266, 267, 282

(MIT), 86 Millikan, Clark, Dr., 24,157

Matador, 21 Millikan, Robert, Dr., 2

Mathis, Robert C., General, 204 Millikan Committee, 24

Maui Optical Tracking and Identification Millstone Hill Radar, 72, 161

Facility, 187 Mina AI-Ahmadi Oil Complex, 258

Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama, 275 Miniature Homing Device, 188

McAuliffe, Christa, 221 Miniature Homing Vehicle, 261

McBride, William V., 191 Minitrak, 42, 65

McCall, Gene H., 281 Minuteman ICBM, 150, 156, 158,163, 164,178

McCartney, Forrest S., Lt Gen, 228 MIRV (Multiple Independently Targeted

McCone, John A., 23 Re-entry Vehicle), 178, 179

McCormack, John W., 61 MISS (Man-in-Space-Soonest), 74

McDonnell Corporation, 130 Missile Experimental (MX), 196

McElroy, Neil H., 19, 52, 53, 55, 57, 58, 76-79 Missile Systems Division (Lockheed), 44,

McKee, William F., General, 128 272

McLucas, John L., Dr., 147, 172, 173, 198, 199 Missile Warning Center, 237,254

McMillan, Brockway, Dr., 107,111,113, 122, MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technol-
NACA (National Advisory Committee for

Aeronautics, 2

Nagler, Gordon R., Vice Admiral, 2o6

National Academy of Sciences, 7, 41, 61

National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA), 2, 49, 61, 62, 65, 67,75

National Aeronautics and Space Act of

1958, 63, 64, 119

National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA), 51, 57, 6o, 62-66, 68, 70, 73,

75-77,8o, 81, 82, 87-89, 91-94, 96, 98-1o1,

104-to8, no, 111, 112, 119, 121-124, 126-128,

130-135, 137, 141, 146, 147, 162, 163, 165, 169,

170, 173, 177, 18o-183, 190-192, 197, 199, 2o6,

221-229, 231, 233, 237, 239, 264, 272-274, 276

National Aeronautics and Space Council

(NASC), 63, 80, 81

National Air and Space Administration

(NASA), 2, 51, 57, 6o

National Command Authorities, 267

National Launch System, 268, 276, 282

National Oceanic and Atmospheric

Administration (NOAA), 147, 148, 186, 19o,

250, 252, 263

National Operational Meteorological

Satellite System (NOMSS), 147

National Orbital Space Station (NOSS), 124

National Range Division, 168, 169

National Reconnaissance Office (NRO), 85,

94, 96, 147, 152, 228, 258, 262, 272, 274

National Science Foundation, 41, 61

National Security Act of 1947, 19

National Security Action Memorandum

(NSAM), 156, no

National Security Agency, 85

National Security Council (NSC), 39, 41, 52,

55, 64, 69, 80, 85, 190

National Security Council Decision

Directive-42, 2o6

National Security Council Review Committee, 19o

National Security Decision Memorandum333, 188

National Space Program, 92

National Space Strategy (1985), 227

NATO 111, 246, 247

Navaho, 21, 28

Navaho Rocketdyne Engines, 21

Navajo Blanket, 202

Naval Research Laboratory, 17, 42, 65, 151

Naval Space Command, 277

Navigation Satellite Executive Committee

(NAVSEG), 151

Navstar Global Positioning System, 151, 185,

194, 212, 214, 215, 222, 248

Navy Fleet Numerical Oceanography

Center, 212

New Boston, New Hampshire, 167

New World Order, 243

New World Vistas, 281,282

New York Times, 6

Newhouse, John, 179

Nha Trang, 170

NIKE-ZEUS, 19

Nimbus, 147, 170

Nixon, Richard M., President, 86,135, 178,

18o, 182, 273

Nixon Administration, 132,136

NORAD Space Defense Center, Cheyenne

Mountain, Colorado, 162

North American Aerospace (or Air)

Defense Command (NORAD), 71,155, 161,

179, 184, 186-188, 193, 197, 205, 218, 219, 237

North American Aviation, 28

North Atlantic Treaty Organization

(NATO), 141, 214

North Vietman, 170

Northrop Aircraft, 18

Norton Air Force Base, California, 9o

Notus, 72, 77

Nova, 92

NSAM 156 Committee, 110, 112

O'Malley, Jerome F., Lt Gen, 175,198- 202,

205-207

Oahu, Hawaii, 167

377
Office of Aerospace Research, 90

Office of Naval Research, 42

Office of Science and Technology Policy

(OSTP), 19o

Offutt Air Force Base, Nebraska, 148, 212,

251

Okinawa, 141

Onizuka Air Force Station, California, 216

Operation Castle, 32

Operation Desert Shield, 243, 245-257, 259,

26o, 264, 268, 275

Operation Desert Storm, 242, 244, 245, 248-

250, 255, 256, 258-262, 264-270, 275, 281,

283, 284

Operation Earnest Will, 245

Operation Eldorado Canyon, 244

Operation Just Cause, 245

Operation Paperclip, 6, 17

Operational Linescan System (OLS), 148,

186, 212, 251

Orbit to Orbit Shuttle (OOS), 182

ORDCIT (Ordnance, California Institute of

Technology), 7

Orr, Verne, 204, 205, 219

Oslo, Norway, 162

Otis Air Force Base, Massachusetts, 187

Outer Space Treaty, uo

Overhage, Carl, 28

Pacific Missile Range, 70, 166,169

Pacific Ocean, 142, 143, 149, 162, 254

Packard, David, 133, 232

Padden, Maurice, Maj Gen, 232

Page, J. D., Brig Gen, 87

Palo Alto, California, 72, 167

Panama, 245

Panel on Operational Meteorological

Satellites, 147

Panofsky, W.K.H ., Dr., 155,157

Parkinson, Bradford W., Colonel, 151

Patrick Air Force Base, Florida, 72, 166, 196,

240

Patriot Anti-Aircraft Missile, 254, 255, 259,

264

378

, 

Payload Assist Module (PAM-D11), 214

Peenemunde, 5

Persian Gulf, 242, 243, 245, 246, 248, 251, 253,

254, 256, 258, 259, 275

Peterson Air Force Base, Colorado, 211, 214

Philco-Ford, 140

Philippines, 141

Phillips, Samual C., General, 228

Pilotless Aircraft Research Station (Wallops

Island, Virginia), 65

Pioneer, 67,72

Piotrowski, John L., General, 230-234, 237,

239

Point Mugu, California, 166

Polaris Sea Launched Ballistic Missile

(SLBM), 39, 46, 72, 156, 158, 163

Polaroid, 28

Policy Review Committee, 191

Post Cold War Assessment of U.S Space

Policy, A, 276

Powell, Colin L., General, 256

Power, Thomas, General, 38, 44

Preliminary Design of an Experimental

World Circling Spaceship, 271

President's Scientific Advisory Committee

(PSAC), 63, 64, 155, 176

Presidential Directive 37, 190, 200

Presidential Directive 42, "US Civil Space

Policy," 191

Presidential Review Memorandum-23, 190

Press, Frank, 19o

Program 437, 188

Program 461, 159

Program 949, 16o

Project 621B (Satellite System for Precise

Navigation), 150, 151

Project Adam, 75

Project Apollo, 98, 101, 107, 125, 128, 131-133,

135, 149, 166, 18o, 273

Project Aquatone, 39

Project Compass Link, 170

Project Decree, 138

Project Feed Back, 28, 29, 36, 48, 271
j

p

Project Hermes, 17

Project Mercury, 65, 73, 75, 76, 77, 8o, 84, 88,

94, 96, i08,121,134, 166

Project Orbiter, 27, 41, 42, 52, 53

Project RAND, 2, 8, 9,14-17, 24-29, 31-33 35-

37, 39 , 40, 44-46 . 47. 49 . 52 . 69, 152, 271

Project SCORE (Signal Communications by

Orbiting Relay Equipment, 138

Project Shepherd, 72

Project Steer, 138,144

Project Tackle, 138

Project THUMPER,19

Project Vanguard, 17, 42-49, 52. 65, 72

Project West Ford, 138, 144

Project WIZARD, 19

Proposal for a Reorganization of USAFAir

Defense and Space Surveillance/Warning

Resources (Green Book Study), 193

Purcell, Edward, 63

Purcell Panel, 63

Putt, Donald L., General, 22, 23, 37, 46, 54,

55,57

Quarles, Donald, 40, 41, 42, 45 - 47, 52, 55, 62

RADEC I sensor, 213

Radio Corporation of America (RCA), 28,

37, 151

Ramo, Simon, Dr., 37

Ramo-Wooldridge Corporation, 33, 37, 86

Randolf, Bernard, General, 202

Randolph Air Force Base, Texas, 73

Rapid Deployable Imagery Terminals

(RDIT), 252

Raytheon Company, 150

Reagan, Ronald, President, 179, 201, 202,

205, 207, 209, 217-219, 225, 233, 266

Reagan Administration, 175, 178, 201, 274

Redstone, 17, 20, 21, 40, 42

Redstone Arsenal (Huntsville, Alabama), 17,

40

Research and Development Board, 19

Rice, Donald B ., 240

y

Robo (Rocket Bomber), 74

Rockefeller, Nelson, 41

Rockwell International, 249, 257

Rogers, William P., 222

Rogers Commission, 228

Rubel, John H., 85, 111-116

Ruina Report, 157

Rumsfeld, Donald, 189

Russia, 5, 48, 52, 92,102

6594th Test Wing (Satellite), 167

SA-6 Surface to Air Missile, 247

Saegen, Eugen, Dr., 3

Sahara Desert, 94

Saigon, 170, 171

Saigon, South Vietnam, 141

Saint, 87, 98, 103, 109, 117, 123, 124

SALT I (Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty I),

178

Salter, Robert M., Jr., 36

Samos, 69, 71, 72, 77, 78, 82, 84, 85, 87, 98,

103,112,152, 166

San Antonio, Texas, 73

San Diego, California, 47

Sand Island, 162

Santa Barbara, California, 166

Satellite Control Facility, 183, 197

Satellite Control Network, 239

Satellite Probatoire d'Observation de la

Terre/Exploratory Satellite for Earth

Observation, (SPOT), 250, 252, 253, 257,

258,263

Satellite Test Center, 167, 168

Satellite Test Center, 216

Saturn, 65, 67, 78, 79

Saturn 113, 128

Saturn-Dyna-Soar, 75

Saudi Arabia, 243, 245, 248, 253

Schlesinger, James R., 178

Schlesinger Doctrine, 178

Schmitt, Harrison, 203

Schriever, Bernard A., General, 33, 34, 38, 39,

43 - 45, 47, 49, 54, 57, 58, 64, 68-70, 76, 77, 86,

379
Senate Commerce Committee, 176

Sensor Evolutionary Development, 185

Sentry, 71

Sequential Correlation of Range (SECOR),

151

Sharp, Dudley, 85

Shemya, Alaska, 161, 186

Shepard, Alan B., Jr., no

Shuttle Operations and Planning Complex

(SOPC), 197, 216, 226, 232, 233

Singer, Fred, Dr., 40

Single Integrated Operations Plan (SLOP),

145

Skylab, 133

Small Lightweight GPS Receiver (SLGR), 250,

257

Small Tactical Terminal, 252

Smart, Jacob E., 177

Smithsonian, The, 6

Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory, 72

Snark, 21

Son Tay, 170

Sondrestrom Air Base, Greenland, 211

South Vietnam, 141

Southeast Asia Coastal Cable System, 171

Southeast Asia(n), 166, 170, 244

Soviet Fractional Orbital Bombardment

(FOB), 160

Soviet Union, 24, 30, 31, 35, 39, 40, 47, 5o, 6o,

64, 8o, 84, 91, 92, 99, 1 00 , 101, 115, 129, 134,

152, 155, 158, 159, 162, 178, 185, 190, 207, 229,

243, 271

Soviet-American Detente, 177, 179, 188

Spaatz, Carl A., General, 14, 18

Space and Missile Systems Organization

(SAMSO), 135, 169, 184, 196

380

(SPADATS), 72, 86, 87, 94, 161, 186-188, 198

Space Division, 196, 197, 199, 203, 204, 215,

216, 231, 232

Space Launch Complex 6 (SLC-6), 183

Space Launch Modernization Study

(Moorman Panel/Committee), 276-278

Space Mission Organization Planning

Executive Committee, 194

Space Missions Organizational Planning

Study, 195, 196

Space Objectives Paper, 130

Space Operations Steering Committee, 205

Space Operations Steering Group, 193

Space Policy and Requirements Study, 199,

201, 207

Space Policy Overview, 202

Space Road Map, 236, 241

Space Shuttle, 4, 127, 133, 135, 164, 165, 166,

173, 175, 178, 180-184, 186, 194, 196, 197, 199,

206, 208-210, 212, 213, 221-229, 233, 237,

248, 268, 274

Space Station Freedom, 233

Space Surveillance Architecture Study 2000,

207

Space Surveillance Center, 237

Space Systems Architecture 2000, 189, 201,

207, 221

Space Systems Division (AFSC), 9o, 99, tog,

113, 114, 117, 129, 135, 139, 142, 150, 157, 168,

169, 249

Space Task Group, 135, 180

Space Technical Objectives Group, n6

Space Technologies Laboratories, 163

Space Technology Center, 205

Space Technology Laboratory (STL),86

Space Transportation Architecture Study, 227

Schultz, Kenneth W., 

, p

g

Schwarzkopf, Norman, General, 258 (SAMTO), 196, 239

Science Advisory Council, 132 Space Command, 205-207,209, 211-217,274

Scientific Advisory Board, 8, 21, 37, 39, 48, Space Council, log

56, 85, 198, 201, 271 Space Defense Operations Center

Scud Missile, 254, 255, 259, 264 (SPADOC), 194, 197, 198, 237

Seamans, Robert C., Jr ., 106, 107,122, 133, 181 Space Defense Working Group, 189

Selective Availability, 249, 250, 264 Space Detection and Tracking System
Space Transportation Systems Group, 196

Space Tug, 182, 183

Space Warfare Center, 277

SPACECAST 2020, 28o, 281

Spaced Based Infrared System (SBIR), 265

Space-Ground Link Subsystem, 167

Spacelab Program, 221

Spacelifter, 268, 276, 282

Spacetalk 94, 279

Spacetrack, 94, 98, 161, 162

Spasur (Space Survefllance), 72, 161

Special Aircraft Project Office, 34

Special Committee on Jet Propulsion,

Special Committee on Self-Propelled

Guided Missiles, 4

Special Forces, 257

Spitzer, Lyman, Jr., 25

Sputnik, 2, 13, 14, 30, 39, 41, 44, 47-53, 55 - 57,

6o, 63, 65, 66, 72-74, 93, 94 120, 150, 272

Sputnik I, 51, 53

Sputnik 11, 52

Standard Launch Vehicle 1(SLV-1), 164

Standard Launch Vehicle 2(SLV-2), 164

Standard Launch Vehicle 2A(SLV-2A), 164

Standard Launch Vehicle 2H(SLV-2H), 164

Standard Launch Vehicle 3(SLV-3), 164

Standard Launch Vehicle 3A(SLV-3A), 164

Standard Launch Vehicle 3D(SLV-3D), 164

Stanford Research Institute, 72

Stans, Maurice H., 62

Star Wars, 218

Stennis, John, Sen ., 82, 101, 102, 110

Stetson, John, 194

Stever, D. G., 61

Stewart, Homer J ., 42

Stewart Committee, 42, 43, 44, 45

Storrie, John H., Brig Gen, 201, 202

Strategic Air Command (SAC), 71, 144, 147,

148, 156, 184, 193, 195, 204, 211, 212, 214, 215,

219, 234

Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI), 178, 179,

207, 218, 219, 227, 229, 237, 261

Strategic Defense Initiative Organization,

229, 234, 237, 261, 262, 264

4

202

Strategic Modernization Program, 178, 200-

Strategic Satellite System (Stratsat), 266

Strughold, Hubertus, Dr., 73

Submarine Launched Ballistic Missile

(SLBM), 159, 16o, 178, 254

Sunnyvale, California, 142, 167, 168, 16q, 183,

197, 250

Surprise Attack Panel, 32

Symington, W. Stuart, 19, 68

Symington Committee, 68, 70, 76

Syncom (Synchronous Communication

Satellite Program), 141, 170

Tactical Air Command (TAC), 193,195

Tactical Exploitation of National Capabilities (TENCAP), 277

Tactical Forecast Unit, 251

Tactical Satellite (TACSAT), 145

Talbott, Harold, 33

Taylor, Maxwell D., General, 76

Technological Capabilities Panel, 32,39

Television and Infra-Red Observing

Satellite (TIROS), 146, 147

Television and Infra-Red Observing

Satellite I (TIROS I), 146, 147, 250

Teller, Edward, Dr., 53

Teller Report, 53, 56

Thailand, 141

Thanh Hoa Bridge, 170

Thompson-Ramo-Wooldridge, Inc. (TRW),

86, 142, 143, 150, 152, 153, 16o

Thor IRBM/Booster, 39, 46, 60, 70, 84,

113, 120, 163, 164, 272

Thor-Able, 72

Thor-Able II, 146

Thor-Ablestar, 149

Thor-Agena, 71

Thor-Burner II, 148

Thor-Delta, 142

Thor-Delta/Able, 72

Thule Air Base, Greenland, 162, 167,

Timation (Time Navigation), 151

TIROS, 72, 165, 252

94,

211, 251

381
Titan II, 102, 107, 113, 212, 225, 227, 229, 238,

240

Titan III, 102, 107, 111, 113, 115, 121, 124, 126,

249, 252, 254- 256, 258, 268

United States Space Command, 215-221,

229-233, 235-237, 239, 241, 247- 249, 255, 256,

261, 265, 2-'.8, 276, 284

382

United States Strategic Command

(USSTRATCOM), 276

University of Maryland, 40

58, 71, 165

Weather Bureau, 146, 170

Webb, James E., 92, 98, 107, 120, 122, 124,

125,131

127, 140, 142, 16o, 166, 225

Titan IIIA, 114, 144

Titan IIIC, 114, 126, 131, 140, 143, 144, 145, 159,

16o, 163, 165

Upper Stage Committee, 183

Urgent Fury, 244

USS Constellation, 170

USS Guadalcanal, 145

Titan IIID, 165

Titan IIIM, 131 V- 1, 5

Titan IV, 225-229, 233, 237, 238, 240, 262, 265, V- 2, 5, 10, 14, 17

267 Van Allen belts, 53

Titov, Gherman S., 1o1 Vance, Cyrus, 19o

Todd, Robert, Maj Gen, 235 Vandenberg, Hoyt S., General, 20-22, 26, 27,

Tomahawk Cruise Missiles, 255 54

Ton Son Nhut Air Base, 170 Vandenberg Air Force Base, California, 120,

Toward New Horizons, 10, 11, 271, 280, 281 129, 131, 133, 158, 159, 163, 164, 166, 167, 169,

Tracking and Data Relay satellites, 222 183, 188, 196, 212, 223, 232, 278

Transit, 72, 87, 1o8, 11o, 150 Vanguard, 163

Transit IB, 149 Vela, 171

Transtage, 163, 165 Vela Hotel, 152, 153, 154

Triennial Report to Congress on Service Vela Sierra, 153

Roles, Missions and Functions, 276 Vela Uniform, 153

Trimble Navigation, 249, 250 Venus, 138

Trinidad, British West Indies, 161, 162 Versailles Treaty, 5

Truly, Richard H., Admiral, 228 Vietnam, 171

Truman, Harry S., President, 23, 24 Vietnam War, 97, 132, 133, 147, 148, 169, 176,

Truman Administration, 20, 29, 48 177, 244

Tsiolkovsky, Konstantin, 5 Viking, 17, 42

TU- 4, 30 Von Braun, Wernher, 5, 14, 17, 40, 41, 42, 53,

Turkey, 35 75

Twining, Nathan, General, 33 Von Karman, Theodore, Dr., 2, 3, 6, 7,10- 13,

20-22, 48, 49, 103, 270, 28o, 281

U.S . Diplomatic Telecommunications Von Neumann, John, 32,37

Terminal, 247 Von Neumann Committee, 32, 33, 87, 99

U-2, 31, 39, 41, 84, 85

Ultra High Frequency Follow On Satellite WAC Corporal, 7,17

(UFO), 267 Wallops Island, Virginia, 65

Unified Command Plan, 220 War Department, 18

United Nations, 8o, 110, 243, 255 Warner, John, 202

United States Central Command, 246, 247, Weapon System 117L, 36, 41, 43-46, 49, 56,
Weisner, Jerome B., 86

Weisner Committee, 86, 87,88

Weisner Report, 87, 89, 9i

Welch, Jasper, General, 202

Welch, Larry D., General, 232, 234, 235, 239,

240

West Pacific Narrow Coverage Satellite, 248

Western Development Division, 33, 34, 37,

38 . 43, 44, 272

Western Space and Missile Center, 196

Western Test Range, 163, 165, 166, 169

Western Test Site, 166

White, Thomas D., General, 54, 68, 76, 77,

83, 84, 87, 88, 89, 9o, 91, 98, 155, 172, 191

White Paper on Air Force Policy and

Leadership in Space, 229, 230, 235

White Sands, New Mexico, 17

White Sands Proving Ground, 151

Wilson, Charles, 31,47

Wilson, Roscoe C., Lt Gen, 69, 76, 79

Woomera, Australia, 141, 254

World War 1, 5, 271

World War 11, 3-5,14, 271

Wright Development Center, 38, 1 20

Wright -Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio, 38

X-1, 4

Yaeger, Charles (Chuck), 4

Yates, Donald N., Maj Gen, 77,107

Yates, Ronald W. Lt Gen, 240

York, Herbert F., 62, 63, 77, 78, 82, 91, 155

Yuma, Arizona, 248

Zuckert, Eugene, 90-93, 100, 101, 104, 105,

1o7, 1o8, 111, 112, 116, 117, 121, 127,129,158