This accident ended high altitude escape testing for several years. In the years that followed World War II, aircraft successfully broke the sound barrier and reached unprecedented altitudes. As airplane performance increased, so did the need to develop techniques for high altitude escape, particularly from altitudes between 60, and , feet.
Sperry picked up on the idea in and issued a formal Request for Proposal RFP for a gondola capable of sustaining a two-man crew for an ascent to , feet. Otto Winzen founder and President of Winzen Research responded on October 13, with a proposal to refurbish an existing but never finished or flown aluminum capsule he originally built for the cancelled US Navy Helios project.
To achieve the extreme altitudes necessary for High Dive, Air Force officials decided to use polyethylene balloons. Project High Dive began in March Eleven months later, dummy drops from C cargo aircraft flying at 30, feet began. In June , High Dive progressed to a series of unstabilized dummy drops from up to 90, feet using high altitude balloons. Some of these flights carried more than one dummy.
The tests confirmed that an unstabilized body would spin or tumble during freefall. The most extreme spin occurred on February 8, , when dummy 2 on drop 53 reached revolutions per minute RPM after being dropped from 89, feet. While this work was underway, personnel at the Aero Medical Laboratory at Wright Field in Dayton, Ohio, constructed a 7-foot spherical gondola for live balloon jumps.
While a sphere was the optimum shape for a pressure vessel, numerous shortcomings from an operational perspective soon became apparent. For one thing, the compound curve of the sphere made the design and fabrication of a light-weight, efficient hatch and frame almost impossible. There also wasn't enough head room for a standing occupant and the spherical shape made equipment placement difficult.
The photograph -which can be seen in detail clicking on the thumbnail at left- was in an article titled "Aviation Medicine on the Threshold of Space. Once the shortcomings of the spherical gondola became evident, the Air Force constructed a new, cylindrical-shaped capsule image at right, click to enlarge. This capsule was used for many of the High Dive dummy drops. After 22 balloon flights using unstabilized dummies, the Air Force progressed to the next phase of High Dive, where the dummies used stabilization parachutes to keep them from spinning.
Results from the next series showed promise, but there was still one critical step that remained before the US Air Force could categorically declare that problems with high altitude escape had been solved. The dummies could not move their limbs or counteract any unwanted motion - a test series using a human test subject was needed.
Conducted by the Aeromedical Field Laboratory at Holloman, Project Manhigh investigated the effects of cosmic radiation on the human body by placing a pilot above , feet for 24 hours.
The Manhigh capsule could also serve as a prototype for future spacecraft. Captain Joseph W. Kittinger piloted Manhigh-1, which reached 97, feet on June 2, After the second Manhigh flight the following August, Kittinger was posted to the Aero Medical Laboratory at Wright Field where he undertook another balloon program - Project Excelsior.
The problem of high altitude escape was once again receiving attention. Project Excelsior Excelsior was the manned extension of High Dive. Stapp selected the name Excelsior because it meant "ever upward" in Latin.
Kittinger planned to use a balloon to reach the stratosphere. Then, he would jump from the aerostat and delay opening his main parachute until reaching 18, feet.
Kittinger's involvement in both Manhigh and Excelsior has sometimes created confusion regarding the projects and his parachute jumps have been reported as part of Manhigh. However, the two projects were totally different and distinct efforts. One of the challenges facing Kittinger was to find a technique that could be used by pilots who were not trained skydivers. Beaupre devised a three-stage parachute system.
After leaving the gondola, Kittinger would fall for 16 seconds to build up speed. Then, a spring-loaded inch diameter pilot chute would deploy. Building up adequate airspeed before deploying the pilot chute was critical because if it deployed too early, it would flop around due to insufficient dynamic pressure in the thin air.
The pilot chute, in turn, deployed a six-foot diameter drogue chute that stabilized Kittinger in a feet-to-earth position. Along with the drogue chute, about one-third of the foot diameter round main canopy was released from the parachute pack. Once he reached 18, feet, the rest of the main was released.
Because a pilot ejecting from a crippled airplane could not be counted on to manually pull his ripcord, the entire activation sequence was automatic.
Winzen Research, Inc. Beau's chute consists of three units: a conventional, spring-type chute to catch the wind and provide the pull to open the next unit; a 6-foot-wide stabilization canopy to prevent flat spin during free fall; and finally a conventional foot [8. In October, , we made the first jumps with the Beaupre parachute, leaping from a C Lockheed Hercules at 28, feet [8, meters]. George A. Post the second, and Capt. Harry Collins the third. The chute worked beautifully, and we felt ready for higher altitudes.
But something went wrong on my first bail-out from a balloon, on November 16, Before I jumped from the gondola at 76, feet, the timer lanyard of the stabilization unit was pulled prematurely and the 6-foot [centimeter] canopy and shrouds popped out after only two seconds of free fall, instead of 16, promptly fouling around me.
At first I thought I might retard the free spin that began to envelop me, but despite my efforts I whirled faster and faster.
Soon I knew there was nothing I could do. I thought this was the end. I began to pray, and then I lost consciousness. I owe my life to my emergency parachute, set to open automatically at 10, feet [3, meters]. When I came to, I was floating lazily down beneath the beautiful canopy of the emergency chute. I want to tell you I had a long thank-you session with the good Lord right then and there.
I knew that Beaupre's ideas were sound, despite the results of the first jump, and by December 11 we were ready to prove it. This time I jumped from the gondola at 74, feet [23, meters], and everything worked perfectly. Next came the big test, Excelsior III, from above , feet [30, meters]. The date was August 16, Vivid in my mind as I swung there were the events of the past few hours. Our project really begins to gain speed on the eve of the jump.
Alerts go out to the launch crew, ground control station, Holloman base weathermen, and all support units. Clearance for use of the White Sands Missile Range , the approximately bymile [bykilometer] test basin, is obtained from the Army. We brief our own crew and the pilots of the support aircraft. First Lt. Don Fordham and civilian Don Griggs check the electronics control systems.
Another veteran jumper, Capt. Billy Mills, our cigar-chewing assistant project officer, oversees prelaunch check lists of more than 1, entries. Plastic water bottles and aluminum foil shield the cameras and other equipment against the cold. As launch-day-minus-one progresses, I come under the close scrutiny of our two project physicians.
For a week I have been on a high-protein, low-residue diet, and I avoid gas-producing foods. Gas expands with increasing altitude, so that air trapped in my stomach or intestines could cause pain so severe that I could be forced to jump prematurely. The diet is mainly meat and potatoes. The doctors also take a final look at ears, nose, and throat. Any air pocketed in the body could force me down too soon.
By afternoon, work halts for most of our team, but our weathermen, Duke Gildenberg and Ralph Reynolds, are facing their most intricate task. They must bring me to earth in an mile-square [kilometer-square] target area about 25 miles [40 kilometers] northwest of Holloman.
They must predict weather conditions for the following morning high aloft as well as on the ground, and decide if surface winds will permit a safe take-off. Checking with Holloman base weathermen, they reach a favorable decision and choose an abandoned dirt airstrip 18 miles [29 kilometers] from the base as the launching site.
Forty-five minutes before midnight a convoy of some 20 vehicles heads northeast through Alamogordo. Frightening jack rabbits as they turn onto the old airstrip, vehicles wheel into position amid mesquite and greasewood. Mobile generators start, communications antennas are mounted, and the first of the hourly pilot balloons, called pibals for short, wavers aloft to provide a wind reading.
The gondola, on a flat-bed truck, becomes the center of activity as it gets a final grooming. Melvin D. Johnson directs the balloon launching crew. At Holloman the men who operate the ground control station begin reporting for duty at midnight. They will monitor my progress over radio and radar networks, plot my position, advise me when to valve and when to ballast, and, finally, give the word on when to jump. Ten minutes after I bail out, ground control will beam the signal that will cut the gondola from the balloon, returning it and its valuable instruments to earth by parachute.
At first this method was risky because chance radio signals could also act as a trigger. In a balloon gondola—luckily with no human passengers—was cut down when a commercial station blared "Tiger Rag. Dave Willard, electronics chief of the Holloman Balloon Branch, solved the problem.
He developed a transistorized device that serves, in effect, as a skyborne lock which only a special electronic key transmitted from the ground station will open. I can go up now with full assurance that no burst of jazz or rock 'n' roll will end the flight prematurely. I am the only man who gets a chance to sleep late before a launch. About on the afternoon preceding the flight, Mary Feldstein hands me two sleeping pills and a medical journal, his sure prescription for sleep.
About 7 p. I awake for a steak supper. Still sleepy, I rest four hours longer. Then Beau Beaupre announces: "Captain Joe, time to wake up. It has become a tradition that Beau and Ken Arnold drive me to the launch site. It is also traditional that we stop for breakfast, which this time consisted of orange juice and strawberry shortcake. As I finish my meal, I tell Beau:. Of course, Beau hasn't yet offered to pay, but he does, because this also is traditional. I always like to be in debt when I jump.
We reach the launch site at 2 a. Clouds moving up from Texas complicate weather prediction. George Post tells me the flight clothing is ready. The Air Force's most experienced test parachutist, he has been jumping since and wears the Distinguished Flying Cross. It is good to know that he will be watching every piece of my gear. He, better than anyone else, knows the stress to which I and my equipment will be exposed. One item of business remains.
The previous week, my five-year-old son Mark was eating breakfast at our Dayton, Ohio, home when he noticed a car license plate printed on his box of cereal. He decided that his father's gondola should be properly licensed, so he clipped the tag from the box and had his mother mail it to me. As I watch, it is carefully taped to the gondola. The license tag is that of the State of Oregon. Our Project Excelsior group is stationed in Ohio, we are launching in New Mexico, our team members hail from several States.
Truly we have a national effort. At 3 o'clock I enter the trailer that we use as a dressing room. Here I start breathing oxygen, and I will not take a breath of natural air until I reach lower altitudes on my descent, some four hours later. This gets most of the nitrogen out of my body. With increasing altitude, nitrogen forms bubbles that expand, cause severe pain, and can be fatal—an ailment known as the bends, which also threatens divers.
As I begin breathing oxygen, I relax on a cot before beginning to dress. The point was to humiliate a prisoner and break his will, rather than to be an effective way to obtain information.
Kittinger and his fellow POWs continued to try and defy their captors in any way they could, holding church services, for instance, as well as forbidden exercise sessions. Kittinger became renowned for his ability to use overturned washtubs to capture the giant rats overrunning the prison compound.
Being a POW was life-changing. Colonel Kittinger—he, like many other prisoners, had been promoted during his internment—finally flew out of North Vietnam on a US C on March 29, The second the wheels lifted off, the airplane exploded in cheers. It remains the largest formal dinner ever held at the Executive Mansion. Kissinger, I want you to meet Joe Kittinger. Kittinger thanked Kissinger for helping negotiate their release.
Around 2 a. In , Kittinger chose to retire from Active Duty military service. I loved the flying, I loved the experience, I loved the companionship.
In , he fulfilled a long-standing dream by launching from Caribou, Maine, and traveling eastward more than 3, miles before crash-landing in northern Italy. He was the first person to balloon alone across the Atlantic. Over the years, he turned down many requests for help from people who wanted to break his high-diving parachute record.
Most were ill-prepared and underfinanced, he said, and he had no desire to get involved in potentially fatal disasters. The Red Bull Stratos effort was different. He agreed to join the team in to help Baumgartner set new altitude records. In the end, Kittinger became something of a calming influence on the younger man. He served as the ground control communicator during the successful attempt, talking Baumgartner through his paces prior to his leap from a height of almost 24 miles.
Today, Kittinger is still ballooning, still flying, and raising money for an F-4 static display at the Kittinger F-4 Park adjacent to the Orlando Executive Airport in Florida. To him the Phantom remains a symbol of the Vietnam era, as it does for many old enough to remember the conflict.
Peter Grier, a Washington, D. Skip to content. By Peter Grier. The Problem Was Spins The leap remained a world record for more than half a century, until , when Austrian adventurer Felix Baumgartner broke it with the Red Bull Stratos sky diving project. Face Down Yet he was not being a daredevil, Kittinger insisted. Department of the Air Force policy calls for a decision within 30 days on requests for religious exemptions to mandatory vaccines from Airmen and Guardians within the continental U.
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But nothing flashes by 20 miles up—there are no signposts there, and you are way above any clouds. When the chute opened, the rest of the jump was anticlimactic because everything had worked perfectly. I landed 12 or 13 minutes later, and there was my crew waiting. We were elated. JK: It hurt—there was quite a bit of swelling and the blood pressure in my arm was high.
But that went away in a few days, and I regained full use of my hand. This is a BETA experience. You may opt-out by clicking here. More From Forbes. May 5, , am EDT.
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