I was in my second year of law school. I remember it well. A big reminder how dangerous all these missions were, and that they had extraordinary crews.
I was teaching in an international school many time zones away. One of our staff had advanced quite far in the educator in space process and received two waves of telegrams. The first was “It should have been you!” and shortly thereafter, “So glad it wasn’t you!” We wheeled out televisions so everyone could see the news. Some classrooms probably already had it on at the time of the explosion 
What an emotional rollercoaster for that person!!
She wasn’t good for much of anything that day, even more so than the rest of us.
I assume everybody remembers Feynman’s book about it? Not so much about the crews, but the investigative commission he was on.
I was a enlisted Air Force computer programmer at a technical facility that directly supports a lot of missions, including NASA’s launch activities at Cape Canaveral.
I was running a software test on the test mainframe. The system also functioned as a warm-backup to the main operational mainframe, so the operator on the system was responsible for tracking the daily data and processing schedule to parallel the ops machine.
The shift supervisor came over to the console of the test system and told the operator “make sure your checklist is current and everything processes correctly, and make sure you save all records, because this morning’s shuttle launch blew up in mid-air, and if there’s a loss investigation we need to be solid.”
I new this NCO a long time, and we always had a good relationship including a lot of joking around. I guess I couldn’t process this news as a fact, so I bizarrely treated it as some kind of a joke, and told him that.
He gave me a dagger stare and said “This is not a fucking joke” and repeated his instructions to the system operator.
I was obviously shocked, plus self-humiliated at my inappropriate reaction. So I mumbled an apology to the shift lead’s retreating back, apologized to the shocked system operator, and terminated my test to make sure the system stayed clear and running correctly.
That was a fantastically bad morning, and not a lot got done outside of the absolutely required routine of that agency.
Here’s the Master’s take on it:
I always thought that was a hopeful statement intended to provide some hope that the crew was not aware of their imminent deaths.
But then there’s this
So they clearly survived the explosion, and were aware enough of what happened that they entered into an emergency protocol.
Sure, one didn’t get activated. Maybe that person was hit with some flying debris. Or did indeed pass out within seconds. Or was so panicked - and so lacking in a lifetime of training (since they were there for the PR value) - that they just didn’t follow the protocol.
Regardless, it’s undeniable that any survivors died on impact.
As I said upthread, it would have been a living hell for that last minute of life, especially if they could anticipate their crash into the ocean.
Judith Resnik was a CMU graduate, and the Tartan interviewed her at the first launch of the Space Shuttle, which I was covering as a photographer.
Somewhere I have that interview… I should try to find it.
Just in case this comes across as a slam against McCauliff: Most Shuttle missions included one or two crewmembers without a lifetime of training in emergency procedures (though they’re not usually there for PR value). If you’re flying some sort of experiment, then there’s going to be someone on board to operate it, usually one of the eggheads who designed or built it.
It wasn’t my intention to slam her; just idle speculation why some, but but all, of the emergency systems weren’t activated. And, of course, I don’t know who didn’t turn theirs on, or why. Ultimately, thinking about the possibilities is so disturbing.
And today is another unfortunate anniversary: