The problems were twofold. The heat sink itself got hotter by several hundred degrees. Though the elevated temperature was still low enough to have no effect on the warhead, it was high enough to kill humans and destroy photographic film. Adding more copper meant adding significantly more weight, compounding the problems of providing sufficient launch power and re-entry braking.
A number of concepts were tested, and in 1956 the most promising proposal was one known as ablation. With respect to spacecraft, layers of ablative material would be applied to the outer shell of the re-entry vehicle and were designed to burn away in a controlled manner, in so doing carrying away the heat from the vehicle. The most promising ablative materials were glass-ceramic compounds similar to Owens-Corning’s CorningWare, a commercial cookware material just coming on the market as baking dishes for household kitchens, and other reinforced plastics. A variety of materials were tested, with the best being a nylon cloth impregnated with a phenolic resin plastic and molded into the appropriate shape. The heat sink and ablation methods would be used in the Mercury space capsules and Discoverer/Corona reconnaissance spacecraft.
Though details were obviously few thanks to the Cold War tension that existed between the United States and the Soviet Union, NACA and the American military believed that the Soviets trailed far behind U.S. efforts, although they had little actual knowledge of the extent of Soviet progress in rocket design. From what little they were able to glean, they were confident that they would be the first to launch a man-made satellite into space. They – and everyone else – were proved wrong.
On Oct. 4, 1957, the Soviet Union successfully launched into space Sputnik, the world’s first man-made satellite. The news shocked the American public. The successful launch into orbit of a second Sputnik a month later, this time with a living creature aboard – the dog Laika – was perhaps a greater shock. When the effort to launch America’s first satellite failed spectacularly, with the Vanguard rocket exploding a few feet off the pad, the country’s confidence was shaken. Everyone from the leaders in the Eisenhower administration to people on Main Street questioned whether or not the United States had lost what was now being called the “space race.”
It also caused the national leadership to reassess the role of NACA and other associated institutions going forward in the Space Age. The result was a new organization with a new name and a new mandate. On Oct. 1, 1958, President Dwight Eisenhower authorized NACA to be reborn as NASA – the National Aeronautics and Space Administration – a civilian agency organized around the NACA but encompassing several other institutions, now responsible not only for aeronautical and space research, but for putting a man on the Moon.
A new chapter in the agency’s history was about to begin.
This article first appeared in NACA/NASA: Celebrating a Century of Innovation, Exploration, and Discovery in Flight and Space, 1915-2015.