The following excerpt from the book, "Go, Flight", by Rick Houston and Milt Heflin, is a familiar theme for those that knew Harry Smith. When he spoke, those responsible for outcomes listened.
On Apollo 15 after a smooth landing on 30 July 1971, Scott did the first and only stand-up EVA through the upper hatch of the LM to survey the site. He and Irwin then rested, and nearly fifteen hours after touchdown, they at last headed outside.
When they tried to deploy the Rover, they met with resitance. The saddle that connected the Rover to the LM Falcon during the descent had very close tolerances, so much so that it had ot be almost completely free of stress to easily sepaarate. falcon was tilted slightly to the rear and sideways, and that made for an even toughter separaation. Bill Peters was prime TELMU for the flight, and he had one suggestion from Harry Smith in the SSR on how to remedy the situation, another from Marshall Space Flight Center officials in SPAN.
Peters had to make a decision and could almost feel the eyes of Scott, Irwin, flight director Pete Frank, and the rest of the world watching in on live television. Smith had worked on the deployement tests of the Rover at the Boeing plant in Kent, Washington, in which it had hung up in the same way. When it was relieved of as muich stress as possible, it was freed. Peters opted to go with that instead of SPAN. "We saw exactly that before and this is exactly what you do to relese it," Peters said, quoting Harry from the SSR backroom.
Capcom Joseph P. "Joe" Allen called to Scott and Irwin.
Dave and Jim, pull the Rover as far out as you can away from the LM, and then pull on the font end, if you could. And by that we mean lift up on the front end.
It worked, but that might not have been the end of the story. Marshall was responsible for the Rover, and Peters later heard that Huntsville had filed an official complaint that Peters had not gone with their suggestion. "In retrospect, I know I made the right decision," Peters siad. "I certainly didn't pacify the managers. Theyi wanted to go through some other procedure. It was one of tghe spur-of-the-moment things, like when you're driving an automobile and you jerk the wheel one way instead of the other. You have to make a decision, and you have to make it now." That kind of confidence in his abilities and those of his support team was a strength of Flight Operaitons, he continued. Make a decision and then fly through hatever flak might come. "I think it was Chris Kraft who called that 'intelleutual arrogance,'" Peters said. "I guess we all had it. I think I still have it, but it doesn't fly well with politicians."
One of Harry Smith's entertaining stories involved the NASA Navy, the Army landing craft dubbed "Retriever," that was transferred to NASA for water-recovery training. Harry told of being part of the NASA inspection team at the Mobile, Alabama shipyards, where "Retriever" was being modified.
"All the work was done, but we couldn't get the release documents signed. There was always one more hoop to jump through. Finally, one night, we got on an open loop back to Houston and I told them, "If everyone that wants to keep this ship in Mobile was standing on the dock holding a line, it couldn't get out of harbor under full power." Harry's infectious laugh followed, with the punch line. "Next morning everyone was down there shoving papers at us to sign. We got back to Seabrook faster than summer lightning."
This episode must have occurred in 1965. Beyond that the official records of Harry are sparse. We know he supported the Gemini program. In March of 1965 he was onboard the Rose Knot Victor as part of the command communications team. Later that year he was in Carnarvon, Australia, and later yet on the tracking ship, Coastal Sentry.
If you have the patience, you can scan down through the link below to some NASA bulletins, and see contemporary accounts of the Retriever, and deployments to suppor missions in the Gemini days.
Harry was in Houston for the Apollo program, supporting the control center. He had a few stories about the moon landing, and several about Apollo 13. "The guy sitting next to me jumped up and said, 'We need to work in shifts. I'll go home and go to bed,' and he left. When I got home that night my wife was crying, she said, 'Walter Cronkite says you're trying to kill the crew!" His praise was for Gene Kranz. "He just kept saying, 'That's not the right answer,' until he finally saw the way. You always need that one tough guy that can make things happen."
"When I went back to see my folks in Poplarville one of the locals that knows what I do gave me this big grin and said, "Got hit by a star, didn't it?" This might have been the same individual that told Harry, shortly after an Earth Resources Satellite launch, "That damned scatteratterometer you boys put up has done killed every bean I got!"
Harry had a lot of ideas about what it took to make the space program successful. "One big problem was keeping management out of the way during a crisis. Craft came up with the perfect solution. He gave them their own room, the SPAN. He'd make those pogues go in there, and they'd have to talk to Flight Ops through their loop. Flight could get the work done with the back room support, while they chewed things over. It was perfect. By they time they came up with a suggestion, Kranz would have a new problem for them."
During the post-Apollo, orbital rendez-vous with the Russians, Harry was fascinated as the airlocks between the two orbiting vehicles were opened and the crews greeted each other. "I wouldn't be surprised if Deke Slayton crawled through that airlock and punched the Ruskie right in the nose."
Who in the world cares about Harry Smith?