Throughout the 60's, 70's and 80's. the University of NSW Library use to receive
NASA publications and these filled several book cases. As those who have got through it
know, an undergraduate electrical engineering degree affords little time for sleep let
alone free time, but now and then I would find myself in the library distracted by the
vast NASA collection which would form an entertaining break from doing interminable
assignments.
One memorable historical work in the collection was entitled "
Stages to Saturn"
and it chronicled the development of the Saturn family of launch vehicles.
The third stage of the Saturn V was known as the S-IVB (pronounced S 4 B)
and one particular paragraph in that official history where they gave an account
of its first test firing was quite funny and I always remembered it. Now with the
power of the World Wide Web I can share it here.
Quote:
|
Originally Posted by NASA History Office document SP-4206, Stages to Saturn, Chapter 8
Consider, for example, the case of the petulant computer-printer-when the machine apparently took umbrage during the automatic checkout sequence in preparation for an acceptance firing. The moment of truth for the test arrived-the signal to fire. After uncounted hours of preparation, hundreds of workers now stood by to observe the climactic moment of ignition. In the crowded blockhouse, all eyes focused on the rows of computers and monitor screens displaying their last fragments of information. Finally, the test conductor typed in his "request" to start the terminal countdown for static firing. The computer whirred, and the automatic typewriter responded with a singular reply, "Say please." Startled, the test conductor concluded he had made a typing error, and repeated his original message more carefully. The balky computer was not to be denied. "Say please," it insisted. At this point the crowd in the blockhouse began stirring restlessly. The loaded S-IVB, readied for firing, remained poised nearby with thousands of gallons of liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen primed for detonation. People were getting tense. Reasonably certain he was only working against a faulty firing tape, the test conductor quickly decided to make one more try, rather than put it into discard and risk more precious time to put a replacement tape into operation. So once more, he entered into the machine his humble request to fire, with a polite notation at the end: "please." This time, there was no problem. "This is your programmer," the machine chattered back, "wishing you good luck." And with a roar, the rocket ignited.
|