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Tragedy Over Texas

© Joy Butler

Family and friends of the Columbia crew waited at Cape Canaveral, watching the countdown for the oldest orbiter in the shuttle fleet to deliver their loved ones safely back to earth. It's easy to imagine the fear that must have passed through them as the clock reached zero and no shuttle had appeared. What should have ended in joyful reunions and triumphant celebrations on that beautiful, clear Saturday morning in Florida had ended, instead, in a shattering explosion over northeast Texas. The unthinkable happened as the spacecraft made its entry back into the earth's atmosphere, disintegrating into a streaking ball of flames that sent debris and remains showering over 28,000 square miles.

My daughter and her family live in a wooded area just east of Dallas. She and the kids slept in, unaware of this tragedy unfolding in the sky over their home, but my son-in-law was awake. He felt the house shudder and heard what many Texans heard that morning. He didn't know the source of the two loud booms and tremendous roar until a little later when the kids got up and turned on the television. That afternoon, while images of the plummeting fireball played over and over, they retreated to the backyard for some family time and noticed the strong smell of smoke as it settled through the atmosphere.

Several hours south, we watched the whole story slowly unravel on television as authorities hashed over the whats, whys, hows and whos. The search for debris, human remains, and answers began. Pieces of the puzzle lay scattered across many miles of streets, parking lots, a reservoir, and remote woods and pastures, including some not far from the president's Crawford ranch. A sorrowful President Bush spoke; reporters delivered breaking news and read biographies of the astronauts. Seven brave space pioneers had died in this horrible accident. Each of them had understood the risks associated with their job and each of them made the ultimate sacrifice for the betterment of mankind. It wasn't long before the victims were, not just astronauts but, real people with faces and families. People around the world, even the astronauts in space aboard the space station, watched and mourned.

I felt a special pride when I learned that Rick Husband, the Commander of the Columbia, the man responsible for the overall conduct of the mission, was a Texan. Born and schooled in Amarillo, he had decided in the fourth grade that he wanted to be an astronaut. He earned a bachelor of science degree in mechanical engineering from Texas Tech University in 1980, became a second lieutenant with the USAF, an instructor pilot, and a program manager, with many special honors. In December 1994, he was chosen as an astronaut candidate and began training in March 1995. Before this final mission aboard the Columbia, he had logged over 235 hours in space. The biography also said that he loved to spend time with his wife and two children.

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