Woke up early, slept poorly. Our crew doctor Zhenya Kobzev came for us — the KFO begins at 8:30. The orthostatic examination is underway, conducted by the doctor Volodya. I like him — a serious fellow. I asked him: “Working on your dissertation?” He says: “Later.” I remarked that if you keep putting things off “until tomorrow,” you may run out of “yesterday.” Finished the KFO; it seems all went well. But then the lab technician Nina reported that my hemoglobin is 76 and the test has to be redone tomorrow — meaning I have to give blood again. Then I learn that the doctors are apparently trying to arrange it so the tests don’t need to be repeated, since all my other blood indicators are good. But in the meantime there’s anxiety in my heart: I’ve never had issues with my blood — and now, hemoglobin, five days before launch! In the evening we gathered at our backup crew’s place. The conversation turned to Vysotsky. Volodya Titov — Tolya’s backup — said he admires him for his human dependability. I remarked that Vysotsky went through many extreme situations, is naturally talented, some of his poems are very good and his songs are soulfully truthful. But he’s no Yesenin, let alone Pushkin, as people sometimes say. He’s a person who gained popularity with his generation through total openness, sincerity — that is, through something still in short supply in our art. I acknowledge him as a talented, popular person, but not as a poet of the people. After lunch we went to the MIK for a fit check of the spacecraft, which is already under the payload fairing. There we had an unpleasant incident — in the orbital module, we were opening a hatch cover and a fastening wing nut fell into the descent module. The technician searched for it a long time but finally found it. And I sat there praying it would be found, because it’s embarrassing when the primary crew makes such mistakes, and besides, it’s a bad omen before launch to lose parts inside the spacecraft.

The spacecraft is well prepared. Then we inspected the cargo ship, its stowage and equipment mounting. On the way back, Leonov told us how he became a cosmonaut. It turns out there were originally 20 men, and Gagarin’s fate, as Leonov sees it, was decided at the meeting of this group of future cosmonauts with Korolyov, when he had each one stand up and tell his biography. After Gagarin stood up (they weren’t called alphabetically — the list was just arranged that way), S.P.’s face lit up. He said afterward that this fellow, with his fine Russian face, good smile, quick mind, and common origins, was suited to be the first cosmonaut. That determined his destiny.