A Final Salute to Salyut 6

By Frederic Golden

Lessons learned from the Soviet mobile home in the sky

The successful flight of the space shuttle Columbia did more than raise American spirits. It broke a Soviet monopoly. For nearly six years before Columbia 's mission, earth orbit had been an exclusive Soviet preserve. Not a single U.S. astronaut flew in space during that period, while Soviet cosmonauts set one orbital endurance mark after another, finally reaching 185 days, more than twice the duration of America's longest Skylab mission. Most of this time was spent aboard a single Soviet spacecraft, a remarkable 20-ton mobile home in the sky called Salyut 6.

Launched nearly four years ago, the bulbous, beetle-shaped ship was the latest in a series named in "salute" to a Soviet folk hero, the late Yuri Gagarin, first man in space. Though weighing only about a quarter as much as Skylab, which came tumbling ignominiously back to earth in 1979, Salyut was durable and highly innovative in design. Among its technological features were two docking ports (to receive visiting spacecraft, including a new class of fully automated, unmanned supply ship) and large, winglike solar panels (to convert sunlight into electricity). Salyut carried myriad scientific and observational gear, notably a multi-spectral camera, telescopes for scanning the heavens, kilns for processing materials in zero-g atmosphere, even a small garden for growing plants in orbit.

The space station, as the Soviets liked to call it, had plenty of amenities for its occupants: 20 viewports, exercise machines for physical fitness and, for the first time in orbit, an on-board television receiver to help relieve the long hours of isolation. The monotony was also broken by the visits of other cosmonauts, who arrived in Soyuz ferry craft, the workhorses of the Soviet manned space effort. In addition to regular supplies, they carried mail, such special snacks as fresh borsch, strawberries and quail pate, not to mention a guitar. Though Salyut was designed to last 18 months, it continues to function thanks to on-board repairs by the cosmonauts plus periodic shipments of fuel, food, water, air and equipment.

It was understandable then that Cosmonaut Vladimir Kovalyonok, 39, got a little sentimental last month when he and his rookie sidekick, Viktor Savinykh, 41, headed back to earth in an advanced Soyuz T spacecraft after 75 days in space. Theirs was the final visit of cosmonauts to Salyut, although it could be used for unmanned missions. The Soviets have indicated that they may dock an unmanned Cosmos satellite on Salyut soon, perhaps this week. After looking back at the ship for the last time, Kovalyonok rhapsodized: "It was so beautiful it gave my heart a pang."

For space scientists, the crucial question is what happened to Kovalyonok's heart--and the rest of his body--during his long stay in space. Sixteen teams of cosmonauts--including a Cuban, a Rumanian and other East bloc visitors--had docked with Salyut since September 1977, and all proclaimed themselves hale and hearty upon return. But if there was one major lesson from Salyut for both the Soviets and NASA, it is that, during extended spaceflights, the human body may be the most delicate machine of all.

Though images of cosmonauts and astronauts tumbling and frolicking in weightlessness suggest that the living is easy, Salyut showed that the body undergoes radical changes when freed from the influence of gravity. Some changes are so severe that they could imperil the lives of long-term space voyagers once they return to earth. Many observers of the U.S. space program, including scientists within NASA, feel that in contrast to the Soviets, the U.S. space agency has paid far too little attention to what happens to the human body during long periods in orbit.

From the very start of the missions, the remarkable effects of zero-g became apparent to Soviet doctors. Life aboard Salyut proved far from salutary. In spite of prolonged training on the ground, many of the cosmonauts could not hold their food down in the early days of a flight. Some had trouble getting to sleep, and were often awakened by the spacecraft's clattering and creaking. Others complained of fatigue and vertigo. In a revealing new book, Red Star in Orbit (Random House; $12.95), James Oberg offers some trenchant quotes from the flight diary of Salyut Cosmonaut Valeri Ryumin, who in three trips spent just short of a year in space. Writes Ryumin of his shaky introduction to space travel: "Looking into the mirror I fail to recognize myself. I feel dizzy, nauseous. My movements lack coordination. I keep bumping into things, mostly with my head. Objects float away from my hands. Chaos in a teapot!"

Living aboard Salyut brought other hazards. In 1977, when Cosmonaut Georgi Grechko took a "space walk" outside the ship to look for some suspected damage, he suddenly saw his companion, Yuri Romanenko, drifting by. Romanenko, untethered to the spacecraft, had accidentally floated out of the cabin. Grechko caught Romanenko just as he was about to spin off into the void. On another flight, cosmonauts complained of repeated headaches. It turned out carbon dioxide was building up to dangerous levels in the cabin. The problem was solved by changing the air purifiers more often.

As the missions progressed, these initial problems usually disappeared, only to be replaced by more insidious ones. Normally, under the tug of the earth's gravity, the blood and other fluids pool in the legs. But in space, these fluids are distributed more evenly, in effect creating fluid surpluses in key areas like the heart. The body reacts swiftly. Apparently thinking it has more blood than it needs, it reduces production both of red blood cells and disease-fighting lymphocytes, making the space travelers more vulnerable to infections. (The cosmonauts found themselves spending more and more time scrubbing the spacecraft to curtail bacterial growth.) Such vital substances as sodium, potassium and calcium salts are lost from the body fluids. The muscles, no longer required to work against gravity, weaken dangerously, and at the same time bones begin to decalcify. Not until the cosmonauts step back on earth do they really experience the consequences of these changes. Then they find themselves overwhelemed by gravity. Every movement becomes a monumental labor, and their bodies seem to weigh a ton.

To counteract this perilous body atrophy, Soviet doctors devised a tough physical-fitness regimen. For at least an hour each morning and afternoon, Salyut cosmonauts had to run on a treadmill, operate an exercise bike and, to put stress on the muscles, wear stiff, elasticized "penguin suits" (so called because, if you wear one on the ground, you waddle). They also had to get into tight-fitting pants that applied pressure to the legs, forcing the heart to work harder in pumping blood through the lower body.

Grunting and sweating, the cosmonauts grumbled continually about these exertions. But the doctors back on earth, watching telemetered data (pulse and respiration rates, etc.) on the cosmonauts, would not let them off the exercise hook.

That discipline paid off. Although there was inevitable fatigue after three or four months, some physical problems seemed to ease. The cosmonauts' heart-lung systems remained strong. Muscle tone was preserved. Possibly the loss of calcium from the bones tapered off as well, though American doctors who have been monitoring the Soviet data are not convinced of that. In any case, less than eight months after his 175-day flight in 1979, Ryumin was robust enough to be sent off on another visit to Salyut, which lasted 185 days without any apparent ill effects.

These lessons on how to stay healthy while working in space should benefit the Soviets and, indeed, all future spacefarers. The U.S.S.R. is expected to launch another, more complex Salyut as early as this fall, with at least three docking ports.

It will probably be used as the core of a true space station, a collection of various modules permanently cir cling the earth with as many as twelve people on board for months at a time. By contrast, during U.S. space-shuttle flights, astronauts will stay in orbit for no more than a few weeks.

The Soviets' space city, or Cosmograd, as they grandly call it, could serve as a military observatory and zero-g space factory for manufacturing products such as highly pure drugs, new alloys, and crystals for electronic chips. Like the space shuttle, it could also be used to assemble ships in or bit for longer voyages, to the moon and perhaps even to Mars. -- By Frederic Golden. Reported by Jerry Hannifin/ Washington

With reporting by Jerry Hannifin/Washington

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