By the time Stafford and Cernan arrived over the Canary Islands - only 17 minutes after launch - the computers had ground out the figures. [333] Armstrong gave the crew the data for the phase adjustment near the first apogee. At 49 minutes into the flight, the thrusters added 22.7 meters per second to spacecraft speed to raise its perigee from 160 to 232 kilometers. "I felt that one, Tom!" Cernan exclaimed.46
During the hour before the triple play - to correct phase, height, and out-of-plane errors - the crew checked systems, went through stowage lists, took off gloves and helmets, and got cameras ready for the rendezvous. To circularize the flight path, at 2:24 hours elapsed flight time Stafford pitched the nose of the spacecraft down 40 degrees and turned it three degrees to the left of its flight path. Fifty-one seconds later, he fired the aft thrusters to add 16.2 meters per second to the vehicle's speed. The orbit now measured 274 by 276 kilometers - 22 kilometers below and 201 kilometers behind the target vehicle and closing with it at 38 meters per second.47
Over Tananarive, 12 minutes before Stafford had fired the thrusters, the crew got some flickers of a radar contact with their target. A range reading of 240 kilometers between the vehicles showed on the scale. George Towner and the other Westinghouse radar builders were relieved; they had worried about acquisition of a target that would wig, wag, and wobble. The Agena was a stabilized vehicle; the ATDA was not, and its radar reflectivity changed with its continually changing attitude. Within 222 kilometers, however, electronic lockon was relatively good.48
At 3:20 hours, the crew caught sight of their goal 93 kilometers away. For some time, it flitted in and out of view on an optical sight. At 56 kilometers, it became quite clear and remained visible from then on. As he drew nearer, Stafford reported seeing flashing acquisition lights. Thinking for a moment that the shroud had jettisoned after all, he said, "All right. We're in business." Surely they could not have seen the running lights so clearly if the shroud were still attached. While making minor corrections, he was glad that he could see the little "shiners" so well, because moonlight, streaming through his window, almost blinded him. The Moon soon became an asset, however, as its rays reflected off the ATDA.49
Stafford began slowing his spacecraft at 4:06 hours. During the closure period, he peered out the window, trying to see if the shroud was there or not. Then he exclaimed, "Look at that moose!" As the distance dwindled, he knew that he had been indulging in wishful thinking - "The shroud is half open on that thing!" Seconds later, Cernan remarked, "You could almost knock it off!" When the final braking was completed,the two vehicles were only 30 meters apart and in position for stationkeeping. But it did not seem likely that the spacecraft nose could slip into the mouth of the "moose" and dock.50
The crew described the shroud in detail and wondered out loud what could be done to salvage the situation. [334] One of Stafford's remarks - graphic and memorable - became the trademark of the entire mission. His animal analogy switched to reptilian when he said, "It looks like an angry alligator out here rotating around." He itched to nudge it with his spacecraft docking bar to open its yawning jaws, but Flight Director Kranz told him to control the urge.
Perhaps the most significant aspect of this incident was the close examination of an unstable body while discussing it over the air-to-ground circuit. Stafford stayed 9 to 12 meters from the target but moved to a ticklish position only centimeters away in daylight. As the ATDA rotated slowly, he rolled his spacecraft upside down to parallel the movements of this weird looking machine. His performance met, in effect, one of the Defense Department's objectives for the AMU - finding and inspecting unidentified satellites. Stafford said he could plainly see that the explosive bolts had fired but that two neatly taped lanyards held the clam shell partially in place. These lanyard wires had high tensile strength, he was assured from the ground, so it might not be wise to nudge its jaws.51
Schneider called James McDivitt and Scott, who were in Los Angeles, and asked them to go to the Douglas plant and look at a duplicate target vehicle shroud to see if the wires could be cut or the shroud removed in any way during orbital flight. The astronauts soon reported that the wires could be clipped, but there were many sharp edges that might tear the astronaut's suit as he worked. In the meantime, ground controllers sent signals to the target to tighten and relax the docking cone, hoping that might free the shroud. But it remained in place - there would definitely be no docking on Gemini IX-A.52
The shroud episode was embarrassing, and another investigation began immediately. The solution was simple, if one recalls the old saw about too many cooks spoiling the broth. Douglas built the shroud that Lockheed, in turn, fitted to the Agena. The ATDA, however, was built by McDonnell. Before McDonnell technicians made the final installation on the ATDA at the Cape, a Douglas engineer supervised a practice run, with the exception of the final part - the lanyards that operated the electrical disconnect to the explosive bolts. For safety's sake, these were not hooked up. Before the mission, the Douglas engineer went home to his pregnant wife. On launch day, the McDonnell crew followed procedures published by Lockheed, which had been copied from Douglas documents. The instructions said, "See blueprint," but the Lockheed drawing was not used. The Douglas technician who normally hooked up the lanyards knew what to do with the loose ends, even without the blueprint. But he was not there, and the strangers fixing the ATDA's shroud looked at the dangling straps, wondered what to do with them, then taped them carefully down. In orbit, Stafford photographed their neat handiwork.
As Scott Simpkinson, GPO Manager of Test Operations, later said, [336] three good lessons were learned from this mistake: (1) simulate processes completely, (2) keep experienced people on the job, and (3) follow written procedures exactly.53
Gemini IX-A now began its equiperiod rendezvous. Five hours after launch, Stafford nosed the spacecraft down 90 degrees and fired the forward thrusters for 35 seconds to increase his speed by 6 meters per second. The crew quickly found that the target was disappearing below them. Later, in the darkness, they plotted their position with a sextant and checked the result against a preplanned chart solution. Mission planning had been right; all that was necessary to complete the rendezvous was to slow the spacecraft down. At 6:15 hours, Stafford began a series of four maneuvers to bring the spacecraft back to stationkeeping alongside the target. The second of the three rendezvous exercises was easy.54
Less than an hour after Gemini IX-A returned to its target (6:36 hours elapsed time), the crew got ready to leave again, for the third planned rendezvous.55 At 7:15 hours, Stafford fired the aft thrusters to decrease the spacecraft speed by 1.1 meters per second and widen the distance between the two satellites.
Stafford and Cernan could now relax a little. It had been an exhausting day. Still wanting to snap the alligator's jaws off, they chatted with ground controllers about the shroud. Then they checked spacecraft systems, ate, and tried to sleep. Cabin noises and lights made sleeping difficult, however, and they only dozed for 40 minutes or so at a time; their scheduled eight hours of slumber were fitful, at best.56
The next day - 4 June - Spacecraft 9 led its target by 111 kilometers. That retrograde maneuver (against the direction of the flight path) had lowered the orbit of the spacecraft (it now measured 289 by 296 kilometers) and the target traveled a nearly constant 298 kilometers above the planet. Thus the spacecraft, being nearer Earth, illustrated the paradox of slowing down to go faster, relative to the surface of the world, than the object flying overhead. The stage was set for Stafford and Cernan to do a rendezvous from above; but they first had to accelerate the spacecraft in the direction of the flight path so it would leap to a higher altitude than the target. Automatically, then, the lower flying target would reduce the spacecraft's 110-kilometer lead. To rendezvous, the crew only had to cancel out altitude and velocity vectors that had placed their vehicle above and ahead of its objective.57
A phase adjustment at 18:23 hours was followed a little more than 30 minutes later by a height adjustment. Another burst from the thrusters put the spacecraft into an orbit measuring 307 by 309 kilometers. The slant range to the target, which had stretched to 155 kilometers, began to shorten. Within 15 minutes, Stafford reported that the vehicles were only 100 kilometers apart. [337] Forty minutes later, Cernan called out a 37-kilometer mark. At 21:02, the distance was 28.6 kilometers. Stafford pointed the nose of his spacecraft down 19 degrees and yawed it to the left 180 degrees, aiming at the other vehicle, which was still below and behind him.58
Over the Atlantic Ocean, then the Sahara Desert, on past the African continent, Stafford and Cernan had troubled spotting the target, but the electronic eye of the radar did not. When they were 37 kilometers away, they had seen the vehicle reflected brightly in the moonlight and, later, in the sunlight. As the Sun rose, however, they lost sight of it completely. The range had closed to less than six kilometers before Stafford saw what looked to him "like a pencil dot on a sheet paper." Without the radar, he said, they would "have blown that rendezvous." But at 21 hours and 42 minutes after launch, IX-A and the target were again side by side. Three types of rendezvous had been completed in less than 24 hours.59
At the end of the third rendezvous, the Carnarvon, Australia, flight controller told Cernan that Flight Director Charlesworth wanted the crew to start getting ready for EVA. Stafford had begun to worry about the amount of fuel that would be consumed if he continued stationkeeping with the target. Unless the flight controllers thought Cernan might actually do something about the shroud, the command pilot wanted to get out of the vicinity of the ATDA before the pilot got out of the spacecraft. The crew was also pretty tired. As they approached Houston, Armstrong told Stafford to postpone EVA until the third day and to leave the ATDA. Stafford accelerated the spacecraft by one meter per second and moved away forever from the angry alligator.60
On 5 June, at 5:30 a.m., nearly 45 hours and 30 minutes into the mission, the crew began preparations for Cernan to emerge from the spacecraft. In the cramped cabin, they worked, rested, and worked again, finishing ten minutes before sunset. Near sunrise, Cernan cracked his hatch. It took more effort than he expected, but he soon stood in the opening, looking out at infinity and waiting for the first signs of daylight. Cernan had no feeling of disorientation nor any sensation of being lost in the dark of space. He heaved out a litter bag, the start of an exercise scheduled to last 167 minutes, during which the pilot would stand, walk, float, or ride nearly twice around the world.61
Once outside the spacecraft, Cernan did some simple experiments to get the feeling of working in space. He was startled to find that everything took longer than he had assumed it would from his experience in simulations. Cernan said he really had no idea how to work in slow motion at orbital speeds. Every movement of an arm or leg in free space exacted a reaction from his body.Minute forces that would scarcely be noticed in Earth's gravity upset his equilibrium in space. He had only to twitch his fingers to set his body in motion. [338] On Gemini IV, White had commented on the need for handholds. Now Cernan found that even those installed on Spacecraft 9 were inadequate and that the Velcro was not strong enough to keep his body in position as he edged back toward the adapter. He had to fight the limited mobility of his space suit, and the effort taxed his strength. He constantly referred to the umbilical as the "snake." When he let it out to any distance, it was hard to control.62
When he finally reached the adapter, some lights that had been installed especially to help him see were not burning. He asked Stafford to turn them on, but only one lit up. Moving around the adapter was no easier than moving around the rest of the spacecraft. Still, he began preparing the maneuvering unit for flight. He attached penlights; opened and checked the nitrogen and oxygen shutoff valves; positioned the sidearm controllers, umbilicals, and restraint harness; attached the AMU tether; turned on the unit's electrical power; and changed over to the electrical umbilical. Everything, just everything, took much longer than he had expected. He kept floating out of control; he simply could not maintain body position. The few footbars, stirrups, and handbars were insufficient for any task that required leverage.
Ten minutes after sunset, Cernan's faceplate began to fog,* so he rested. But here there could be no such thing as complete relaxation because of the tendency to drift away. He went back to work, but his visor soon fogged again. After the next sunrise, the moisture lessened. As soon as he moved about, it returned. Strangely, he felt neither hot nor cold** - his only problems were this fogged visor and tasks that had to be done with one hand when he really needed two.
When 80 percent of his work was finished, Cernan again had to stop and rest. Like a mountain climber with a backpack, he sat down in the maneuvering unit and found his most peaceful moment in this strange environment. Body molded to the seat, feet against a footbar, and arms atop the handbars, he enjoyed a taste of comfort for the first time since he started this stroll outside. The flight passed into darkness, but by the light in the adapter Cernan could tell just how occluded his faceplate had become.
He began to wonder whether to go on with EVA. Mentally, he ticked off the checklist items that remained: strap in, change to the AMU oxygen lead, start breathing oxygen from the unit's supply, and free his personal transportation from the spacecraft adapter. [339] Cernan knew, from repeated experience in zero-g training flights, that he could do these tasks blindfolded. But then what? he thought. "So you make the connections . . . if you can't see, you can't very well go out there and fly because you don't know what to expect." And if he flew the maneuvering unit, anyway? He could finish putting it on, he knew, because he was restrained in the adapter. But when the time came to take it off, he would be standing in free space. Could he take it off with one hand, while holding onto the spacecraft with the other? Would it be wise to try that when he couldn't see? Much better to end the exercise now, he thought. So he and Stafford decided to cancel the rest of the EVA, and Mission Control agreed.
Carefully, Cernan eased himself out of his comfortable seat, leaving his sun visor up to see if that might help defog his faceplate. At sunrise, he detached the AMU's electrical umbilical and connected his spacecraft lifeline. Still almost blind, he groped his way out of the adapter and back along the spacecraft to the cockpit. He slid into the hatch and stood there a few moments. Stafford held on to Cernan's legs so he could rest. Slowly his faceplate began to clear in the center, giving him a narrow range of vision. He tried to retrieve an externally mounted mirror that the command pilot had used to watch what was going on behind the cockpit. As Cernan wrestled with the mirror, his suit's cooling system became overtaxed, causing him to get extremely hot for the first time. His faceplate again fogged up completely. Stafford helped Cernan in and, together, they closed the hatch and started pressurizing the cabin. With their helmets almost touching, Stafford still could not see Cernan through the faceplate. The extravehicular exercise had lasted for 128 minutes instead of the planned 167; fogging had started 63 minutes after hatch opening.63
Two major aims of Gemini XI-A were rendezvous and extravehicular activity; the third was experiments.*** Stafford and Cernan gave closer attention over a sustained period of time to the assigned experiments than had any Gemini crew before. When the space walk was postponed to the third day, the astronauts spent most of the second day on experiments and rest. About the only conversation they would tolerate from the ground was about their workload. On several occasions, when flight controllers forgot, they were reminded that the crew was busy. "My mistake for contacting you," came the response.64
Stafford and Cernan carried out M-5, bioassay of body fluids (the only medical experiment), which required wastes to be collected and labeled in laboratory fashion. Like other Gemini crews, Stafford and Cernan disliked this complex and messy task, nor did they enjoy the blood sampling they had to endure before and after the mission. [340] Stafford equated the physical effort for M-5 to that required for doing a rendezvous and a half.65
The Department of Defense sponsored one experiment in addition to the Astronaut Maneuvering Unit - D-14, UHF/VHF polarization - to measure the inconsistencies of the electron field along the spacecraft orbital path and to study structures and variations of the lower ionospheric region. Stafford and Cernan operated the D-14 transmitter five times over Hawaii and once over Antigua during five successive revolutions. Everything worked well, but the number of measurements was limited because the antenna was poorly located. Later, when he was struggling outside, Cernan accidentally broke off the D-14 antenna.66
The four remaining experiments were scientific. Two of these involved micrometeorite collection. S-10 was a package mounted on the ATDA for Cernan to pick off during his space walk. This he could not do, but the astronauts did manage to photograph the package. The pictures showed that the device was in excellent condition. The second experiment of this type, S-12, was attached to the spacecraft and operated by the astronauts by remote control. While Cernan was in the adapter, he heard Stafford close and lock the box. Cernan retrieved the package and stowed it in the spacecraft.67
Cameras were the principal instruments used in the last two experiments - S-1, zodiacal light photography, and S-11, airglow horizon photography. Stafford and Cernan took S-11 pictures on three successive night passes, between the 29th and 33rd hours of flight. They got 45 good photographs, under very trying circumstances. The tendency to float upward in zero gravity made pointing the camera and taking the pictures no easy task.
Zodiacal light photography had been scheduled for the space walk. A fogged faceplate, however, was no help in aiming a camera. The pictures had to be taken from inside the spacecraft after Cernan had returned to the more restful confines of his couch. Cernan had to hold the camera against his chest while pointing it out the window at the targets and calling out directions to Stafford for aligning the spacecraft. He obtained 17 good photographs.68
On 6 June, during the 45th revolution, they got ready to come home. Gemini IX-A touched down 0.70 kilometers from the planned impact point in the Atlantic Ocean, 72 hours, 20 minutes, and 50 seconds after launch. After scanning the panels in the spacecraft and flipping some switches, the crewmen opened both hatches, relaxed, and watched the gently rolling sea. They were close enough to raise their arms and thumb a ride on the Wasp. Stafford and Cernan stayed in their spacecraft until it was hoisted onto the ship's deck. After the usual hullabaloo had subsided, Cernan told anyone who would listen to him that extravehicular activity was not easy, not nearly as easy as people believed. [341] And he seemed bitterly disappointed that he had been unable to fly the Air Force's maneuvering unit.69
To the public, the frustrations of Gemini XI-A - the formidable shroud and the fogged faceplate - overshadowed its accomplishments. Flying formation with and examining an unstable body had been a useful experience. Of even more significance were the advanced rendezvous maneuvers, proving that the flight controller and crews could handle sophisticated rendezvous techniques that might be applicable to Apollo. Had Gemini IX-A been VIII, the results might have been viewed differently - as just part of the learning process. But docking, a primary objective, had not been achieved; and extravehicular activity had not succeeded in evaluating the maneuvering unit. Some engineers in MSC Crew Systems Division thought too much was being tried too soon - the simpler maneuvering unit planned for Gemini VIII would have been the logical second step in mastering EVA. As it turned out, the cliche to "watch out for that second step" would have made a good motto, but the step was greater than anyone had yet realized.70
* After the mission the fogging problem was duplicated in altitude chamber tests, using the Spacecraft 9 life support system and Cernan's space suit. When a small area of the faceplate was treated with an anti-fog solution, that spot remained clear. As a result, future Gemini crews carried an anti-fog solution to be applied immediately before EVA.
** At one period, Cernan's back did feel hot. Later analysis showed that some of the insulation of the suit had separated, allowing the Sun's rays to penetrate.
*** See Appendix D
45 [Ertel], Gemini IX-A; "Gemini IX-A Voice Communications (Air-to-Ground, Ground-to-Air, and On-Board Transcription," McDonnell Control No. C-115803, n.d., pp. 8-10; "Gemini IX A Technical Debriefing," 11 June 1966, pp. 9-11; "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 4-14, -15; TWX, Mathews to SSD, Attn: Hull, and McDonnell, Attn: Burke, "Gemini IX ATDA Ephemeris Data and GLV Insertion Parameters," GV-12437, 23 May 1966.
46 "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 13, 15, 16; "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," p. 4-15; "Gemini IX A Debriefing," p. 15.
47 "Gemini IX A Debriefing," pp. 16, 17; "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 4-15, -16; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 20, 21, 25, 26, 32.
48 "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 28, 29, 30, 32, 33; George Towner, interview, Baltimore, 25 May 1966; "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," p. 7-2.
49 "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 7-2, -3; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 37-51; "Gemini IX A Debriefing," pp. 30, 31, 34-37.
50 "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," p. 4-16; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 55, 56, 57.
51 "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 58-64; Stafford and Cernan interviews.
52 Schneider, interview, Washington, 23 Jan. 1967; Cernan and Stafford interviews; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 65, 66, 112.
53 "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 5-161 through -164; TWX, Mathews to SSD, Attn: Hudson, GV-12356, 10 Feb. 1966; HX, Mathews to McDonnell, Attn: Burke, "Contract NAS 9-170, Augmented Target Docking Adapter," GV-12359, 17 Feb. 1966; memo, Purser to Gilruth and Low, 7 June 1966; TWX, Mathews to McDonnell, Attn: Burke, "Contract NAS 9-170, Gemini, Definition of Augmented Target Docking Adapter/Shroud Problems Relative to Gemini IX-A Mission," GP-7579, 9 June 1966; letter, Burke to MSC, Attn: Mathews, "Contract NAS 9-170, Project Gemini, Definition of ATDA Shroud Separation Problem during GT-IX-A," 306-09-244, 20 June 1966; letter, Edward C. Welsh to Mueller, 21 June 1966; letter, Mueller to Welsh, 7 July 1966; memo, Mathews to Chief, Gemini Spacecraft Procurement Sec., "Investigative testing of Augmented Target Docking Adapter shroud release mechanism," GP-62268, 13 July 1966; Scott H. Simpkinson, interview, Houston, 18 Jan. 1967; H. H. Luetjen, interview, Cape Kennedy, Fla., 25 May 1967; memo, Simpkinson to Grimwood, "Orbital Operations Perfected," 14 May 1970, with annotated pages of comment draft attached; Simpkinson, telephone interview, 29 March 1971.
54 Memo, Bobby K. Culpepper to dist., "Trajectory information for the Gemini IX ATDA mission," 66-FM6-43, 24 May 1966; memo, Mathews to NASA Hq., Attn; Schneider, "Gemini IX-A Mission Activities Priorities," GV-66437, 26 May 1966; "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 4-16, -17, 6-12, 7-3, -4, -25,-26; "Gemini IX A Debriefing," pp. 43-56; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 67, 71, 72, 73, 76, 84.
55 "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," p. 4-16; Paul C. Kramer, Edwin E. Aldrin, and William E. Hayes, "Onboard Operations for Rendezvous," in Gemini Summary Conference, pp. 37-38.
56 "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 85, 86, 89, 92, 94-96; "Gemini IX A Debriefing," pp. 57, 61, 62, 63, 64.
57 [Ertel], Gemini IX-A.
58 "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 4-18, -19, -32, -33, 6-13, -15, 7-4, -5; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 108, 110, 114, 119, 120, 124, 127-28.
59 "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 7-5, -6, -27, -28; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 120, 121, 122, 125, 127; "Gemini IX A Debriefing," p. 80; Stafford interview.
60 Gemini 9-A mission commentary transcript, 4 June 1966, tape 88, pp. 2-3, tape 91, p. 1; TWX, Kenneth S. Kleinknecht to NASA Hq., Attn: James E. Webb, and MSC, Attn: Gilruth, "Daily Report Number 1 - Gemini IXA Mission," GT-1 1212, 4 June 1966, pp. 5, 12; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 128, 129, 130, 131, 136.
61 Mathews memo, GS-64127, 14 April 1966; [Ertel], Gemini IX-A; "Gemini IX A Debriefing," pp. 105-108, 114, 115, 117; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 181, 182, 187, 18994; Burns et al., "Gemini Extravehicular Activities," p. 3-8.
62 Burns et al., "Gemini Extravehicular Activities," p. 3-8; Schultz and Ray, "Body Positioning and Restraints," pp. 5-1, -6; Cernan interview; "Gemini IX-A Debriefing," pp. 112, 126, 127-28, 129, 130, 132, 133, 137; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 196, 201, 203, 206, 207, 209, 212, 213, 215; "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 7-8, -9, -10.
63 "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 217-20, 222-27, 230-44; Burns et al., "Gemini Extravehicular Activities," pp. 3-8, -9; Bell et al., "Life Support Systems," pp. 4-52, -53; Schultz and Ray, "Body Positioning and Restraints," pp. 5-1, -2; Johnson, Schultz, and Huber, "Maneuvering Equipment," pp. 6-39, -40; "Gemini IX A Debriefing," pp. 145-96, 199; "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 7-8, -9, -10; Cernan and Stafford interviews; "Abstract[s] of Meeting[s] on Extravehicular Activity on Spacecraft 10, 11, and 12, June 21, 1966," 27 June 1966, and "June 30, 1966," 6 July 1966; "Gemini 9 Pilots [sic] Report," 17 June 1966, tape F, p. 7.
64 "Abstract of Meeting on Experiments for Gemini VIII and IX, January 7, 1966," 11 Jan. 1966; "Abstract of Meeting on Experiments for Gemini IX and X, March 3 and 4, 1966," 5 April 1966; "Abstract of Meeting on Gemini IX Experiments, Functional Verification Review Board, April 20, 1966," 27 April 1966; Mathews memo, GV-66437, 26 May 1966; "Gemini 9 Experiments Briefing," 16 May 1966; Gemini 9A News Center Release No. 2, "Gemini 9A Experiments," 26 May 1966; "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 7-6, -7,-8, 8-1 through -85; "Gemini IX-A Voice," pp. 156-71.
65 "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 7-6, 8-59, -60, -61; "Gemini IX A Debriefing," pp. 290-91.
66 "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 7-8, 8-49 through -52; "Gemini IX A Debriefing," pp.90, 91; Malik and Souris, Gemini Technical Summary, pp. 303-304; Jocelyn R. Gill and Willis B. Foster, "Science Experiments Summary," in Gemini Summary Conference, p. 316.
67 "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 7-6, -7, 8-79, -80.
68 "Gemini IX-A Mission Report," pp. 7-6, -7, 8-63, -64, -73, -74; "Gemini IX A Debriefing," pp. 93-98, 100-103; Gill and Foster, "Science Experiments Summary," p. 299; Malik and Souris, Gemini Technical Summary, pp. 313-14, 318-19.
69 Joe D. St. Glair, Edward A. Armstrong, and John E. Williams, "Gemini Program Flight Summary Report: Gemini Missions I through X," MSC-G-R-66-5 (Revision A), September 1966, p. 44; Warren R. Young, ed., To the Moon, Sect. 11, The story in pictures and text (New York, 1969), p.109; Don J. Green, interview, Houston, 29 June 1967.
70 Bell, interview, Houston, 10 Sept. 1968.