Word: sled
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Stapp, the careful scientist, recorded every novel sensation. He felt the risin; storm of the wind against his body, am the terrible thrust of the rockets. Durin; the five seconds that they burned, they accelerated the sled with a force of 7½ to 9 Gs,* pressing him back against the sea with 7½ to 9 times the weight of his body For about 2½ seconds he could see the track as a racing blur. Then his vision narrowed and blacked out altogether. Since he did not lose consciousness, he knew that the Gs had drained the blood...
...blur was still there." As a medical man, Stapp knew that th Gs had pulled his eyeballs outward an "impinged them against the eyelids." He did not know how far they had pulled, or whether the retinas had-been detached (which would have made him permanently blind). "After the sled stopped," he says, "it was a minute or so before anyone came up. I was fully conscious. The someone opened my helmet, but I couldn't see anything. I yelled, 'I can't see.' They took off my helmet, and I tried to stand...
Lashed Pilot. Colonel Stapp lives in his house near Holloman, enjoying hi-fi music and pondering the lessons of his latest sled ride. He thinks that he experienced more wind and deceleration than a pilot bailing out at the speed of sound at 35,000 ft. altitude. This may be taken as proof, he believes, that an ejection seat (cost: $4,000) is enough to save such a pilot's life, and that an elaborate "ejection capsule" (cost: $30,000) is not needed. The pilot, he remarks, would have to be lashed down to the seat, or the wind...
...tests are in the offing. Under development is a sled that will speed much faster on a longer track. It will have a windshield, permitting better streamlining. But at the point of highest speed, the shield will be jettisoned. Then wind at 24 Ibs. pressure per sq. in. (3,456 Ibs. per sq. ft.) will strike the occupant's body. The occupant? Colonel Stapp...
Induction. In Milwaukee, sheriff's deputies investigating a burglary at Brynwood Country Club noted a child's sled missing, followed the runner tracks for five miles, finally found Claude W. Harmon, 33, doggedly trudging along pulling a sledload of three cocktail tables, two end tables, twelve tablecloths, 31 napkins, one wastebasket, one topcoat, assorted glass and silverware...