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Noon Alarm. On one famous occasion they worked too well. One October night in 1960, as the powerful pulses from Thule's radar swept rhythmically over the icecap, back came strong reflections that showed as targets on the radar screens. This was just what BMEWS was built for. Warning of possible missile attack flashed across ice and tundra to the North American Air Defense Command at Colorado Springs; a frantic flap spread over the continent. Airbases waited for red alerts, their bombers poised on the runways. Roused out of bed at home in Moorestown, Holmes listened carefully to a telephoned description of the frightening signals and realized what must have happened. Radar pulses from Thule had soared far beyond Russia and hit the rising moon 240,000 miles away. Reflected back to earth in 2.6 seconds, they showed up on the radar screens exactly the same as reflections from much nearer missiles might have done.
When the excitement died down, Holmes taught BMEWS how to distinguish between the moon and missiles. But he could hardly know that this would not be his last tangle with that cold and distant target. Whatever obstacles he stumbles into, Brainerd Holmes is determined to hit the moon on schedule. The U.S. space program must proceed at top speed, he argues, even if the Russians (whose space spectaculars are the principal goad that moves Congress to the necessary generosity) should retire wholly from the space race. "When a great nation is faced with a technological challenge," says Scientist Holmes with scientific directness, "it has to accept or go backward. Space is the future of man, and the U.S. must keep ahead in space."
* Latin for twins. Spacemen pronounce it jem-i-nee.
* Named for Aerodynamicist Francis Rogallo of Langley Research Center, poineer developer of the portable wing.