[Illustration: Fig. 25. “Lord, take care of me now,” were Capt. Joseph W. Kittinger, Jr.’s words as he exited the EXCELSIOR III balloon gondola at 102,800 feet on August 16, 1960, over White Sands Proving Ground, N.M. Kittinger’s courageous scientific achievement remains, to this day, the highest parachute jump ever accomplished. (_U.S. Air Force photo_)]
Countering claims of a cover-up, Air Force projects that used anthropomorphic dummies and human subjects were unclassified and widely publicized in numerous newspaper and magazine stories, books, and television reports. These included a book written by test pilot Kittinger, _The Long, Lonely Leap_, another book, _Man High_, by MAN HIGH Project Scientist, Lt. Col. David G. Simons (MC), a feature article in _National Geographic_, and cover stories in _Life_, _Collier’s_, _Popular Mechanics_, and _Time_.[47] A characterization of Kittinger’s record parachute jump even appeared in the adolescent magazine, _MAD_.[48] The intense public interest in HIGH DIVE, EXCELSIOR and other aero medical projects conducted at Holloman AFB also resulted in a 1956 Twentieth Century Fox full-length motion picture, _On the Threshold of Space_ (see page 38).
[Illustration: Fig. 26. This photo of Capt. Joseph W. Kittinger, Jr. taken by a remotely operated camera on the EXCELSIOR III gondola, was featured in the December 1960 _National Geographic_.
_World’s highest jump tests a new type of parachute for high-altitude flyers and scientists returning from the threshold of space_
_Illustrations by National Geographic photographer VOLKMAR WENTZEL_
OVERHEAD my onion-shaped balloon spread its 200-foot diameter against a black daytime sky. More than 18½ miles below lay the cloud-hidden New Mexico desert to which I shortly would parachute.
Sitting in my gondola, which gently twisted with the balloon’s slow turnings, I had begun to sweat lightly, though the temperature read 36° below zero Fahrenheit. Sunlight burned in on me under the edge of an aluminized antiglare curtain and through the gondola’s open door.
In my earphones crackled the voice of Capt. Marvin Feldstein, one of our project’s two doctors, from ground control at Holloman Air Force Base:
I was ready to go, for more reasons than one. For about an hour—as the balloon rose from 50,000 to 102,800 feet above sea level—I had been exposed to an environment requiring the protection of a pressure suit and helmet, and the fear of their failure had always been present. If either should break, unconsciousness would come in 10 or 12 seconds, and death within two minutes.