Later I was climbing out of a small pool when a very attractive and very naked German woman came to me. Someone in our group must have dropped the astronaut bomb because she wanted to ask a few questions about flying in space. I could barely understand what she was saying…not because her English was poor. On the contrary, it was excellent. Rather, it was because 99 percent of my meager mental powers were being used to force my eyes to look straight ahead. As she spoke, my brain was screaming, “
Meanwhile, as I did my best to be a naked gentleman, I noticed she had no qualms about looking at
Even the naked ladies weren’t the most memorable part of our re-bluing trip. Events five thousand miles away trivialized everything we had encountered. We received word from Houston that John Young’s tenure as chief of astronauts had ended. He had been reassigned to the position of JSC deputy for engineering and safety, a technical rather than team-leadership position. The celebration was immediate. Most of us had been looking forward to this day for a long, long time. My celebration was probably the most unrestrained. For the past year, John had made my life miserable. While I had heard of only two incidents in which he had suggested I was lacking as an astronaut and should be replaced, God only knew how many other times he had said it and to whom he had said it. Despite Abbey’s “forget it” comment, I couldn’t believe my reputation hadn’t been damaged. Young had been my tor-mentor, and my joy at his departure was unalloyed. That’s not to say I couldn’t admire the man for his achievements in the cockpit. He had flown in space six times, including a moonwalk mission and the first space shuttle mission. The latter had probably been the most dangerous mission ever flown by any astronaut. While many of us questioned John’s leadership abilities, no one doubted his flying skills and guts.
On April 27, 1987, TFNG Dan Brandenstein was picked to replace Young. I knew he would do a superb job as chief of astronauts. But at the same time I was angry that Abbey had screwed the air force again. The grapevine had it that the selection criteria for the position had mandated a TFNG who had flown as a shuttle commander. There were three navy TFNGs who qualified: Brandenstein, Hauck, and Hoot Gibson. There was only a single USAF TFNG veteran commander: Brewster Shaw. And why did such a disparity exist? Because of Abbey’s longtime preferential treatment of the U.S. Navy astronauts. If a bomb went off under Abbey’s car, the air force TFNGs would be at the top of the suspect list.
Chapter 30
Mission Assignment
With Brandenstein at the helm of the astronaut office, the summer of 1987 passed much more pleasantly. At the Monday meetings there were actual exchanges of ideas. Astronauts, me included, were able to get up and make a presentation without being blasted with criticism. Dan even addressed one of the criteria for crew assignments, a first in my nine years with NASA. “Crews will be picked not only on how they have performed in simulations and on past missions, but also on how well they perform their office duties.” To imagine…someone in a management position at NASA was actually revealing something about the crew selection process. It was enough to make me want to step outside and see if a squadron of pigs was flying over. Actually, what Dan gave us wasn’t much…and
The days weren’t all sunshine and roses. Along with the rest of the office, I remained in flight assignment limbo. Also, STS-26 was slipping into the summer of 1988, a year away. If and when I ever got another mission, it was moving in lockstep to the right, too.
During this period of recovery from