The Watch That NASA Couldn't Kill

In the heat of the Space Race, with Cold War tensions mounting and moon dust yet untouched by human boots, NASA faced an unexpected dilemma: What watch would ride to the Moon?

It wasn’t just a matter of style—this timepiece needed to survive the most punishing environment imaginable. We’re talking violent liftoffs, zero gravity, moon dust, radiation, and dramatic temperature swings that could cook or freeze electronics in seconds. So, in September 1964, James H. Ragan, an engineer with NASA’s Flight Crew Integration Division, quietly added a new line to the astronaut gear checklist: Find a wristwatch that can survive the impossible.

But here’s where it gets good: NASA didn’t tell anyone.
That’s right—this high-stakes horological audition was a covert op. No press releases. No heads-up to the watch companies. Ragan and his team were dispatched like secret agents to Houston jewelry stores where they bought chronographs straight off the shelf—as any astronaut might do with a trip to the mall. And from that quiet sweep, three candidates emerged: the Omega Speedmaster, the Rolex Chronograph ref. 6238, and the Longines-Wittnauer 235T.

Then came the testing gauntlet—11 brutal trials, devised not to test watches but to break them. NASA’s qualification process included heat blasts up to 200°F, deep freezes to -40°F, vibrations intense enough to scramble a brain, high-humidity steam rooms, violent decompression, pure oxygen environments, shocks of 40 Gs, and even acoustic torture at 130 decibels. The lab must’ve looked like a Bond villain’s idea of fun.

And what happened next was a horological bloodbath.

Rolex didn’t last long. Its chronograph failed in the humidity chamber, tapping out early. Wittnauer made it further, but its crystal shattered during decompression. Both were benched.

Only Omega’s Speedmaster—a watch designed for racecar drivers, mind you—survived the ordeal. Its secret weapon? A humble, lightweight acrylic crystal called Hesalite, which didn’t shatter like mineral glass when exposed to pressure changes. While it might’ve scratched easier, NASA saw it as safer for space—where floating shards of glass could be a nightmare in zero gravity.

On March 1, 1965, NASA issued the now-famous memo: the Omega Speedmaster was “operationally the best” and officially certified for all manned space missions.

The irony? Astronauts already liked Omega. Wally Schirra had worn his personal Speedmaster aboard Mercury-Atlas 8 back in 1962, before any of this testing began. The engineers didn’t know it then, but they were rubber-stamping a fan favorite.

And yes—the Speedmaster went to the Moon. Buzz Aldrin wore it when he descended the ladder of the Eagle in 1969. Neil left his in the lunar module to replace a broken onboard timer. But history was already made.

Oh, and here’s a fun twist: Omega didn’t even know it had won until after liftoff. NASA never told the brands their watches were in the running, nor did it throw a victory parade. Omega only learned of its Moonwatch status when astronauts started thanking them during interviews.

So the next time you see a Speedmaster ticking away on someone’s wrist, remember: it wasn’t made to be a space watch. It became one—through grit, silence, shattered rivals, and one wild round of secret testing that helped it earn a place in history.