USS LEONARD FOSTER MASON DD-852 TO THE RESCUE

The Atlas-Agena target vehicle for the Gemini VIII mission was successfully
launched from KSC Launch Complex 14 at 10 a.m. EST March 16. The Gemini
VIII spacecraft followed from Launch Complex 19 at 11:41 a.m., with command
pilot Neil A. Armstrong and pilot David R. Scott aboard. The spacecraft and its
target vehicle rendezvoused and docked, with docking confirmed 6 hours 33
minutes after the spacecraft was launched. This first successful docking with an
Agena target vehicle was followed by a major space emergency. About 27 minutes
later the spacecraft-Agena combination encountered unexpected roll and yaw
motion. A stuck thruster on Gemini put the docked assembly into a wild high
speed gyration. Near structural limits and blackout, Armstrong undocked, figuring
the problem was in the Agena, which only made it worse. The problem arose
again and when the yaw and roll rates became too high the crew shut the main
Gemini reaction control system down and activated and used both rings of the
reentry control system to reduce the spacecraft rates to zero. This used 75% of
that system's fuel. Although the crew wanted to press on with the mission and
Scott's planned space walk, ground control ordered an emergency splashdown in
the western Pacific during the seventh revolution. The spacecraft landed at 10:23
p.m. EST March 16 and Armstrong and Scott were picked up by the destroyer
U.S.S. Mason at 1:37 a.m. EST March 17. Although the flight was cut short by
the incident, one of the primary objectives - rendezvous and docking (the first
rendezvous of two spacecraft in orbital flight) - was accomplished.

TWO MEN FROM OUTER SPACE

The terse, urgent message that crackled over the headsets of the Manned Space
Flight Center in Houston, effected the lives of everyone involved in the space
flight officially called GTA-8. It meant a capsule was coming down in the Pacific
almost two days early. It meant, to short an emergency in space.

For Gemini Astronauts Neil Armstrong and David Scott, the message meant they
were the main characters of a drama of which the world literally was the stage.

For the men aboard the destroyer Leonard F. Mason, on patrol in the Western
Pacific with the USS George K. Mackenzie, It meant a routine mission had
become the most important single event in the ship's history.

And for the housewife beside the radio, the executive beside the office TV, and
the student listening to his transistor, it raised a spectre that has silently been
haunting anyone who has held his breath as a countdown neared zero-the
possibility of losing an astronaut on a mission.

RACIN' MASON

These thoughts, and a hundred more, were going through the mind on Cmdr.
Alan H. Hazen, as he stood on the bridge of the Mason. His ship was turning to
a heading of 191-degrees and the two screws were starting to turn out 27 knots. Enginemen were firing up his two other boilers. That would bring his flank speed
up to 32 knots or over. But still, the capsule was down in the ocean over one
hundred eighty miles away, in an area known as 7/3, a landing area designator
for the seventh orbit.

Down below, FLEACTS photographer Charles Stroble, on TAD orders to
Project Femini, checked his cameras for the hundredth time. He had been out on
Gemini missions before-always considered them something between a routine job
and a rest. Now, everything was different. In his camera, was film from which
NASA would learn many things.

In the darkened areas of CIC Chief radarman James B. Flynn, strained his eyes
at the yellow radar scope. He was an Irishman, and his usual black tie had been
replaced by a bright green one in observance of St. Patrick's Day.

This was the first time in many months since the ship had made a power run.
During her last sea trials, she had steamed flank-speed for an hour. Today, she
would run faster and harder than she had ever run before.

Normally, it takes between two and three hours to fire up a cold boiler and "put
it on the line" [engage it into the propulsion system]. One hour and thirty-two
minutes after the call came out, the Mason slowed to 22 knots to allow the two
extra boilers to be put into service. It was a record for the engine room.

Noise, a constant visitor in the engine room, took on a new, urgent pitch, and the temperature began climbing from its normal 95-degree to 100... then
105...110...and finally, 115.

About a hundred miles away, and bobbing in three-foot waves, the prime
subjects of the message were fighting seasickness, "It's a great capsule, "Capt.
Wally Schirra said later, "but a lousy boat." For the time being they were
safe-overhead an Air Force C-54 was flying, and paramedics were already making their own splashdowns.

FIRST SIGHTING

The distance Chief Flynn first spotted the capsule on radar is classified-but it
was considerable, considering the capsule was floating on the surface, where sea
return and the curvature of the earth tend to render radar readings difficult at best.
"It [the radar blip] was as big as the echo of a plane," he explained. "I yelled 'I've
got it'-181 degrees!"

Until the Mason was 100 miles away, there was still some doubt as to whether
or not it would be picking up the capsule. Then, the final word was received,
and Cmdr. Hazen informed the crew.

And the crew was ready-pick-upcrane operator James Walson, EN1 went
through every detail in his mind again, as the ship streamed through the seas
faster than it had ever done before. In the sick bay, DesDiv 32 staff doctor Lt.
Paul Fukuda checked his instructions for checking the astronauts when they
came aboard. Behind the doors marked "Exclusive Area, Keep Out," chief
radioman William A. Butler tuned his equipment for communications to Pearl
Harbor, and to monitor the capsule itself. Swimmers reviewed their mission, that
of assisting the recovery, and also of possibly finding the Reentry and Recovery Package, a tiny package jettisoned from the capsule, which is very difficult to
recover. And in the Combat Information Center, attentive eyes watched each
sweep of the radar antenna indicator on the PPI scopes. As long as each sweep
produced the blip at 181 degrees, everything was going A-OK.

After cruising at speeds near 7 miles a second, the 32-knot speed of the Mason
must have seemed slow to the astronauts. But the gray break in the horizon
became a ship, and the ship became a destroyer, and the destroyer soon became
a gray wall towering over them. At 3:24 p.m. the Mason had made its
rendezvous with the Gemini 8 capsule and astronauts, and with destiny.

"Boy, are we glad to see you," shouted one astronaut, as the ship maneuvered
into position to take them aboard.

.
David Scott and Neil Armstrong

Capsule safely abroad.

Cover for the occasion.

Four minutes later, David Scott and Neil Armstrong, both wearing sunglasses
were lifted aboard the destroyer. The capsule followed in another seven minutes.
And the three Mason swimmers recovered the elusive R&R package.

Once aboard, the astronauts were given a medical examination and then went to sleep.

.SHRIMP COCKTAIL

"We asked them if they had any preference about what they'd like to eat,"
explained Chief Commissaryman John F. Washem, "but they said they just
wanted to eat whatever was on the menu." [It was spaghetti and meatballs. As
an extra treat, a shrimp salad was added.] Later, at midnight, they were served
steak and eggs.

Steaming back to Okinawa, the astronauts toured the ship. [neither had been
aboard a destroyer before]. They were presented numerous souvenirs and also
gave many, in the form of autographs.

A routine administrative message was dispatched to PAMI [Pacific Accounting
Machine Installation, where punch-card tabulations are kept on Navy billets and
personnel]. It read "EMBARKED TWO ASTRONAUTS FROM OUTER
SPACE."

MARCH 18

The next day, the ship berthed at Okinawa, where astronaut Walter Schirra met
the astronauts as soon as the gangplank was lowered. The astronauts thanked
the ship's crew, and left for Houston by plane.

TO YOKOSUKA

Small craft warnings were flying when the Mason steamed around Yokosuka's
signal point Sunday, March 20. The late afternoon sun could not provide enough
heat to make it warm.

The Commander U.S. Naval Forces, Japan band welcomed the ship that was a
local hero as she backed into her berth. Wives and dependents waited aboard the
USS Ernest G. Small, next to the Mason.

Crew members, lining the sides at special Sea detail, met her docking with mixed
emotions. They had just participated in their greatest mission. For that they were
exhilarated. But now, it was over. And like actors after the final curtain, they felt
let down as the last entry in the most eventful patrol of the ship was recorded.
The mission was accomplished; the Mason had come home again.

Other references

More information on Gemini-8 from NASA's History Office
More information on Gemini-8 from On the Shoulders
More information on Gemini-8 from Mark Wade
Mark has a good collection of shoulder patches

Larry Mason, Neil Armstrong and Joyce (Mason) Johnson

Joyce & Dick Johnson and Neil Armstrong.

This Web Page was created by and
is maintained by Paul D. Henriott
Last updated 15 June 2005