Project Redsun: The Secret Mission to Mars That Never Was, Or Was It?

In the early 2010s, a grainy, silent video began to circulate online. A spacecraft approached the surface of Mars. The camera jolted during descent. In one shot, an astronaut planted a U.S. flag in the red dust. The date stamped in the corner read 1973.

The footage was linked to a secret Cold War mission known as Project Redsun, a joint operation between the United States and the Soviet Union. The rocket used advanced propulsion systems never revealed to the public. Some believed the technology came from captured Nazi scientists. Others said it had more mysterious origins.

Project Redsun began as a covert agreement between the two superpowers. With tensions rising on Earth, both sides shifted resources toward a shared objective: reaching Mars. The rocket, a modified Saturn V referred to as Apollo 20, had been upgraded for long-duration deep space travel, stronger shielding, improved fuel systems, and expanded life support.

The crew included American astronaut William Rutledge, Soviet cosmonaut Vladimir Ilyushin, and a second American. Depending on which version you hear, that third spot was filled by Buzz Aldrin, Leona Snyder, or Elliott See. Rutledge later surfaced in footage released decades after the mission, appearing to confirm its details from a location outside the U.S.

The journey to Mars lasted several months. The astronauts faced technical failures, radiation exposure, and extended isolation. After arriving in orbit, they descended in a lander and touched down near the Martian equator. The landing was rough. The shadow of the craft stretched across cracked ground. In the distance, a low hill broke the horizon. One astronaut stepped forward and placed the American flag in the soil. Another moved through the frame, the sun catching the edge of a reflective visor. Some of the footage showed what looked like a metallic structure, low, rectangular, and half-buried. The crew had assembled a temporary base from pre-fabricated parts brought with them. It was designed for short-term shelter, communications, and sample analysis.

Over several days, the crew moved across the landing area in slow, careful steps. Soil and rock samples were collected. The air was tested. One of the astronauts paused and turned back toward the lander. Later scenes showed them working near the base, reviewing data and preparing reports for transmission. The footage cut in and out, with short sequences hinting at shapes in the distance. Some viewers believed they were looking at ruins, the outline of a structure not built by the crew.

Their signals were relayed through a classified satellite network. The mission lasted just under two weeks. Once complete, the astronauts lifted off and began the journey home. But they didn’t return publicly. There were no reports. No press briefings. No headlines. If they made it back, no one outside the program was ever told.

The footage that appeared decades later followed the mission in exact detail, the descent, the flag, the base, the markings on the suits. For those who believed the mission was real, this was the final confirmation.

Once the video started to spread, it was examined more closely. Some of the footage matched known Apollo mission clips. Lighting and shadows didn’t align with conditions expected on Mars. Specific rock formations looked familiar, nearly identical to locations in Earth’s southwestern deserts. Other details, like the way the footage was formatted and stored, didn’t match what would’ve been possible with 1970s equipment.

The video was uploaded by a YouTube channel called “Universe Explorers,” which offered no background and later disappeared. Some of the material was traced to “The Faking Hoaxer,” a CGI artist known for producing convincing space footage. There were other inconsistencies. Elliott See, named in some versions of the story as the mission commander, died in a crash in 1966. William Rutledge, the figure at the center of the footage, provided no documentation of his role and didn’t appear until decades later. His identity was never verified.

Taken together, the missing records, recycled footage, and conflicting details led most researchers to conclude the video wasn’t authentic. Some believe it was a hoax stitched together from existing NASA clips and modern effects. Others think it may have started as fiction and gained traction when presented out of the context.

Even after being widely dismissed, the story hasn’t disappeared. That’s partly because we know some secrets weren’t just wild conspiracy theories at all. Operation Paperclip was real, a postwar program that brought former Nazi scientists to the United States to work in aerospace and weapons development. So was MK-Ultra, a CIA project that experimented with mind control. Both were denied for years before the truth came out. NASA has revised and removed mission details before. Many of the postwar advancements in aerospace and propulsion came from German scientists relocated under government contracts.

The Cold War was filled with gaps, cover-ups, and classified programs. And the space race didn’t just take place in public. If the U.S. could reach the Moon in the 1960s, then a Mars mission, even an unofficial one, didn’t seem impossible to some.

Project Redsun probably didn’t happen. The footage was likely faked, the mission fictional. But stories like this survive for a reason. They reflect something deeper, a fear that history isn’t always what we’re told, and a suspicion that if the truth ever did come out, it might already be too late to prove it. And if something like Project Redsun ever did happen, then the secrecy worked. Because even now, no one can say for sure.