All three stars of The Wally, Walt and Donn Show shared equal billing, but each performance, like the flight itself, really belonged to the spacecraft commander, Wally Schirra. The impressive efficiency of Apollo 7 and its crew was fitting tribute to the 45-year-old veteran who is making his last flight.
By now, everyone who has worked with him is convinced that there are really two Wally Schirras. One will be best remembered for his high jinks in space. On his first mission, he smuggled an unauthorized steak sandwich aboard the spacecraft. In mid-December 1965, during the rendezvous of Gemini 6 and 7, Schirra pulled to within a foot of the other spacecraft and held up a sign for Gemini 7’s command pilot, West Point Graduate Frank Borman. It read: “Beat Army.” Later, on the same flight, he reported that he had sighted “an object” going into polar orbit. “Stand by,” said Schirra, “it looks like he’s trying to signal us.” He then whipped out a harmonica and began to play Jingle Bells. The UFO, of course, was Santa Claus.
The other Wally Schirra is a meticulous test pilot and engineer. He is an iron-spined Navy captain who has never hesitated to sound off when he is displeased. Early in the space program, he openly criticized John Glenn’s NASA-sponsored public relations tours and argued that they had effectively removed Glenn from the program. When it was rumored that NASA might deny Gordon Cooper a Mercury orbital flight, Wally rescued Cooper by threatening to take the issue to the press.
Plagued by a head cold aboard Apollo 7, Schirra was unusually testy during some of his exchanges with ground controllers. But when problems are crucial, Schirra has always demonstrated remarkable coolness.
Indeed, handling quick decisions aloft is a Schirra family specialty. Wally’s father was a World War I fighter pilot who later barnstormed with his wife as wing-walker. Wally himself soloed at 16, and went into naval aviation soon after graduation from Annapolis. He flew 90 combat missions in Korea, shot down one MIG and scored one “possible.” On the first unsuccessful attempt to launch Gemini 6, when the Titan booster belched smoke and flames without lifting off, Schirra correctly decided that there was no danger of an explosion. He made a split-second decision not to damage the spacecraft by pulling the seat-ejection ring. A few days later, Gemini 6, still intact, carried him aloft to achieve man’s first rendezvous in space.
Schirra’s decision to retire from spaceflight will allow him more time for the ground-bound activities he enjoys—parties around the Houston space center, water skiing and sailing with his wife, Josephine, and his children, Walter, 18, and Suzanne, 11. “I’ve been gone one heck of a lot,” he says. “It takes a lot out of you.”
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