February 2, 2003 -- I REMEMBER Challenger.
I was in the
barracks taking a lunch break from a course when someone came in and
told us the Challenger had just exploded. We thought he was making a
very bad joke. Then we watched the replay. Over and over and over
again. It was as if the world had ended. No event could possibly be so
shocking.
Why don't I feel that for the Columbia ?
I
got an e-mail from a friend. " Columbia just blew up." When Challenger
exploded my first thought was a fervent prayer that came out as "Oh,
My, God." For this it was a simple, quiet, resigned expletive: "Oh
sh--."
Why?
Brave men and women. They go up in
what they know well is a Rube Goldberg contraption composed of
low-bidder parts and poorly-thought-out 1970s technology. The current
favorite opinion is that some of the thermal tiles were damaged on
launch. Big surprise, the thermal tiles that they bet their lives on
for every trip are as fragile as Dresden China. And they're only one of
thousands of frankly lousy compromises found in the space shuttles.
Brave
men and women. Honor them. Mourn them as American, and, yes, Israeli,
heroes. True heroes that face fear and then, when things go wrong, die
on the altar of reason and progress, the very things that make our
nation, our culture, the shining light that it is.
But the
loss of Challenger was a different time, a different age. At that time,
the loss of a space shuttle was the most profound national tragedy,
short of a nuclear war, that we could imagine. Billions of dollars and
seven fine people gone up in flames. What waste. What a tragedy. The
national mourning went on and on. Now, the first question from everyone
that didn't understand the mechanics was "Is this a work of terrorism?"
9/11, again, leaves its calling card. When the Challenger
blew up, we thought that we had seen the ultimate in destruction. That
blazing Y of a Roman candle which told us that all of our hopes and
expectations could fail in one brief blaze of fire. It shocked us, a
little, to know that life can be snuffed out so easily. Yes, this is
the worst that can happen. To see our heroes die on national
television.
And then, we watched the towers burn and burn and burn.
So now, instead of heartfelt prayer there is a short curse and the question: "Is this a work of terrorism?"
I'm
sure that as I write this, there are people dancing in the streets. In
Jordan . In " Palestine ." In Syria and Iraq and Egypt and Saudi Arabia
and Pakistan . Cheering that another American symbol, best of all one
that had an Israeli on board, has been destroyed.
So what?
We can build another space shuttle. And there will be applicants out
the door to fly on it. That is why our enemies hate us.
Brave
men and women will be going up again soon. Trusting their lives to
fragile tiles and Rube Goldberg engineering. They're going up there to
tell the universe, to tell the world, that we Americans, we people of
the West, can be smacked down, but we just get right back up. We may
wobble, but nobody has ever been able to put us down.
But
mourn as well our souls of coal, burned to blackness by the horrors we
have seen. So that when good men and women die we bow our heads, take a
deep breath and go on, almost as if nothing has happened. We have seen
worse and fear to see much worse. But we go on.
What has changed? Nothing, except us.
Good luck, shuttle crews. If our mourning seems muted, somehow, I think you'll understand.
Col. Rick Husband, United States Air Force, Commander
Cmdr. William McCool, United States Navy
Pilot Col. Ilan Ramon, Israeli Air Force, Payload Specialist
Cmdr. Dr. Laurel Clark, United States Navy Flight Surgeon, Mission Specialist
Lt. Col. Michael Anderson, United States Air Force, Payload Commander
Capt. Dr. David Brown, United States Navy Flight Surgeon, Mission Specialist
Dr. Kalpana Chawla, Doctor of Aerospace Engineering, Mission Specialist
Take care and may God speed.
Amen.