In October of 1953 a report from a noted nuclear scientist would completely rewrite the specifications for the next generation of booster. It had to be able to lift the Soviet hydrogen bomb, which was considerably heavier than anything launched previously. The new booster was soon designated the R-7. Glushko’s engines that were under development at the time (the RD-105 and 106) were not powerful enough to lift the necessary six ton payload and so a radical design breakthrough was necessary. This came in the form of an idea from one of Glushko’s competitors, Alexei Isayev, a rocket designer at N 11-88. Isayev realized that if the thrust were to be spread out amongst a cluster of combustion chambers, not only would one turbo-pump suffice but it would have a multitude of knock-on advantages, the thrust gain was considerably more than the weight increase of the hardware and the internal vibrations were minimized. This was arguably the most important breakthrough in Soviet rocket development and it came from neither Glushko nor Korolev but from a minor player, all but unknown in the West even today. With lsayev’s modifications Glushko was able to construct the RD-107 and RD-108, the former providing 83 tons of thrust and the latter 75 tons. By combining four RD-I07s in the strap-ons and a single RD-108 in the central booster the total lifting thrust of the R-7 package was in the region of 400 tons. There was nothing else anywhere on the drawings boards that was even remotely like it. Over the course of 1954 the booster’s final design took shape while Ustinov worked the bureaucracy to move it to the top of the pile as a national priority. The overall appearance of the rock et, with the four strap-ons, was later attributed to Korolev’s chief deputy Vasiliy Mishin.
R-7 in flight at Baikonur
Up to this time every Soviet booster had been a tactical weapon, which means it could be launched from just about anywhere, but it had a limited range. If the R-7 could be made to fly it would be a strategic weapon; its launching site could be just about anywhere but it could also reach almost any target on Earth. This introduced the concept of a permanent launch site, built far away from prying eyes. An almost farcical debate took place in which several choice locations were dismissed, including near to a very popular holiday resort, before a remote part of the steppe in Kazakhstan was chosen, near a huddle of buildings called Tyuratam. It was more than twice as far from Moscow as Kapustin Yar. It was (and still is) a very unpopular choice, mainly due to its extreme climate, with temperature fluctuations over any given year of up to 75 degrees centigrade. Nevertheless, it soon became the site of a massive and difficult construction project, given crucial support by the lone railway track that passed through the area. Over the next fifty years it would become the biggest space port in the world with an area of over 5000 square kilometers and would be most famously known as the Baikonur Cosmodrome. Even the name of this most famous launch site was clouded by ridiculous obfuscation. The original town of Baikonur was in fact nearly 300 km north east of the launch facility, but the name was chosen specifically to confuse western intelligence agencies. Adding to the confusion the town-sized facility which grew out of the project, originally known as Site JO was called Zarya, Leninsk and Zvezdograd before it was officially renamed Baikonur by Boris Yeltsin in the 1980’s. However, the closest railway station continues to be known as Tyuratam.
Starting in August 1955 (over five years later than the establishment of America’s primary launch site at Cape Canaveral) an army of workers gradually converted a desolate patch of Kazakh scrubland into a complex launch facility. That very same month, at the IAF congress in Copenhagen both the USA and USSR announced they would try and launch a satellite by 1957-58. Oddly, one of the most important meetings in the birth of the first artificial satellite didn’t take place until after the IAF announcement, At that meeting Korolev was told that no thought would be given to a satellite until after he had proven the R-7’s worth as a weapon delivery system.
R-7 launch pad at Baikonur
During this whole period Tikhonravov continued to explore the difficulties of launching an orbital payload. He had switched his attention from multi-stage boosters to the design of the actual spacecraft. Keeping Korolev informed of his work, Tikhonravov was now thinking of satellites. In a stroke of bravado Korolev took a chance at selling the satellite program by pitching it directly to the top. On February 27, 1956 Soviet Premier Nikita Khruschev was to pay his first visit to Korolev’s OKB-1 facility. Conveniently a model of Tikhonravov’s prototype satellite was placed close to a full size mockup of the R-7. Taking his time, Korolev quietly explained to Khrushchev that the R-7 could easily place a satellite into space by simply swapping out the payload. Khrushchev took the bait and approved the idea as long as it didn’t interfere with the development of the R-7 as a weapon. The specifications for the satellite had been defined just two days earlier.
Between March and October of 1956 the entire R-7 launch complex was assembled in a building in Leningrad before being dismantled and shipped by rail, to be reconstructed at Tyuratam. While all this was going on, the R-5 was continuing its string of successes out of the launch site at Kapustin Yar. The R SM was officially deployed into the Soviet arsenal on June 2l 1956, just four months after it had successfully delivered its first nuclear weapon to a target range. Korolev and his team were using the R-5 to gradually refine guidance and other issues in preparation for the birth of the R-7.
As if Korolev didn’t have enough to do, he had also spent the better part of the last three years perfecting another booster designated the R- II, which was the Soviet counterpart to the Polaris submarine-launched missile. The R II test program had proceeded relatively painlessly and it had been success fully fired for the first time from a submarine just three months before Korolev’s encounter with Kruschev. All of this work was making it increasingly difficult for Korolev’s organization to continue to operate efficiently with the distractions of Nll-88 and so in August of 956, Korolev’s OKB-1 became a self managed and self contained organization answering directly to the government and the military. Nll-88 passed into history.
The following month von Braun launched a Jupiter C rocket which could have—given the addition of an extra stage—launched a satellite into orbit. Korolev immediately assumed the Americans were about to upstage his plans for the R-7 so he redoubled his efforts. Adding to his problems, the prototype RD- engines were not performing at peak efficiency and so it occurred to him to rethink his strategy. Tikhonravov’s satellite was large and heavy, clocking in at around a half a ton. Why not try something a little smaller?
Korolev’s supporters for the satellite comprised a fragile alliance of artillery officers, politicians and scientists and when he summarily postponed the larger satellite, with its scientific payload, he inevitably met with some resistance. However, everything still hinged on the success of the R-7, which was yet to fly. At this moment in time the R-5 was capable of flying about 1200km and the Americans were secure in the knowledge that their Jupiter missile had flown almost five times further. This illusion of superiority would soon evaporate once the R-7 took flight.
Starting on May 15, 1957, the R-7 test flights began. The first booster failed and landed 300 km downrange, the second suffered several pad aborts and the third lost its strap-on boosters about a half a minute into the flight. However, on August 2I 1957 the R-7 established a new record for a ballistic missile, flying over 6500 km to its target on the Kamchatka peninsula. Korolev was delighted and immediately turned his attention back to the tiny satellite taking shape in his factory at OKB-1. Unfortunately there were still some detractors in the upper echelons of the military who were not at all interested in Korolev’s desire to one-up the Americans with a satellite launch. Despite being ready he was obliged to fly the R-7 one more time on September 7 before getting the green light to try for orbit.
Next: Part 4
Prev: Part 2
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