A very close friend, John Kehley, who worked the NTA project with me took this great photo, and it is a good one on which to finish this four-part series.

We have quickly covered a B-50, a bomber of the Korean war period; a B-36, a very expensive aircraft from the following Cold War period; the NTA, the hope for atomic powered aviation; and then, cycled back around to the B-50.

Unavoidable in this series was some "Early Life and Times of Ken Cashion, Boy Solder-Slinger."

This last image demonstrates a wide span of aviation, as well.

The B-36, the first of the great post-WWII bombers; the B-52, its replacement (seemingly forever); the Convair B-58, the first super-sonic bomber; and like an obelisk of 2001, the ICBM.

(Remember that acronym?)

Missiles were my next projects but all that is irrelevant to this story.

The Convair nuclear lab continued doing radiation component testing and in 1958, the NTA made its last trip as it was rolled across the ramp to await reclamation and the scrap heap -- to come back possibly as parts of other aircraft.

Not only in this way, but in a stranger way, remnants of the NTA continued.

In 1957, I left Convair and arrived at the Cape where I spent time on missiles -- Titan, Matadors, and then Pershings.

Then I moved over to Orlando where I worked all Pershing missle systems and ended up in the Inertial Guidance Lab. There, I decided that I had ridden that company, Martin, about as far as I could/should.

It was 1963 and the family was ready to go back to Texas.

I got a surprise call from an old Convair nuclear lab friend and he wanted me to come back to Texas. He didn’t know that I had scattered my resume all over the Dallas - Ft. Worth area. He wanted me to put in a full-blown nuclear instrumentation lab, complete with a scientific photo lab for processing space-borne, cosmic-ray, thick-emulsions.

I asked him what had happened to Convair's nuclear lab. ("Did you guys finally blow it up?") He said it was still there but most of the lab guys were working for this new bunch in Houston.

"Would you like to put in a nuclear lab for NASA's Manned Spacecraft Center?"

I would!

I did.

When I had arrived at NASA, we were just in the final planning for the last scheduled Mercury/Atlas flight, and I started reading and analyzing cosmic ray data from the previous Mercury/Atlas mission.

In 1964, we had our radiation sources delivered and we were starting some early testing to help determine if the ionizing radiation in space, and in particular, the Van Allen Belts, would be a problem for Gemini astronauts in and out of the capsule. However, these Gemini missions were, at this time pretty far into the future.

So, I needed some lead bricks to shield sources and the like, and being the economist (scrounger) that I am, I was looking for a big, cheap source of local lead.

I commented that I wished I had all the lead bricks we used to have at Convair. (There were so many of us from that group, we often wished things like that.)

Someone asked, "How much lead was in the NTA crew capsule?"

Someone gave a qualified guess, and asked why he wanted to know.

"Because I think the capsule is still sitting up there. It was removed before the NTA was scrapped out because it was just a big chunk of lead. Aluminum was all anyone was buying."

We made a few phone calls and sent a couple of simple letters. We, to the man, promised good faith and sincere hope that we old ex-Convair nuclear guys would send some NASA funding to Convair for some sort of research.

Shortly, the NTA capsule was delivered by rail to Ellington AFB just north of the NASA site.

It was a very strange feeling for me going into that capsule again. It was on a large fixture and the entry was down through the escape hatch in the top...one never used.

As an engineer, I have a different perspective of such things as this and I thought of many science-fiction stories about re-entering abandoned spacecraft left on other planets.

I was alone and I eased myself down and slid into the data engineer's seat. One I had occupied many times before.  The capsule had been pretty-well stripped out and there were just empty racks where familiar instruments used to be.

I looked at the cables in the back of the racks, cables that I had connected and disconnected many times when removing and installing instruments. I recognized cable numbers and recalled in detail where they were routed -- I saw some I had made myself.

Few people can understand such feelings. (I have covered this subject very well in my treatise, "The Zen of Engineering" and my poem, "Old Friends.")

After getting a couple of quotes from salvage businesses, the capsule was delivered to a contractor who cut it up, and then cast the lead bricks we needed. We used those bricks all the years I was at MSC/JSC. That lead, in some form, is being used somewhere right now. I guarantee it.

So here, now, in my study, I can look around and see parts of the NTA. I have the pilot's autopilot trim wheels that look like riding lawn-mower steering wheels; I have the data engineer's relief tube with the little plastic "megaphone" end; I have the famous "Push To Reverse Props" button that was added after a B-36 went into Lake Worth; I have the technicians' manual that lists the maintenance on the engines and the date they were pickled, his personal quality stamp is in purple ink; I have the altimeter calibration card with a technician's signature and his listing of the deviation from absolute altitude; and on the frame of the photo of the NTA in flight (seen in image 2 of this series,) I have the plastic center from the pilot's control yoke -- with the silver, flying eagle against a blue background, and "Consolidated Vultee" printed in silver.

I am told by collectors that the frame, bezel, photo, and a letter of provenance would be worth a lot of money. I know it is -- to me.

At a nuclear lab reunion a few years ago, someone had gathered all the 16mm Convair film, and with some old classified Air Force film, they made a great video tape of the program.

So when I get in the right mood, I put that tape on, try to recall guys' names, remember funny things we did, and watch the NTA take off...and listen to those engines!

And I enjoy the recollections.

"Did the NTA get away?"

"Yep. Six a'turnin' and four a'burnin'!"

Gee! I wish I could play it all again.

Ken Cashion