by Dan Parry
Throughout April, May and June, assembling the PPKs, designing the patch, learning to use the stills, TV and 16mm cameras, and other minor duties had to be squeezed into the relentless training regime. For Neil and Buzz, the hardest time came in early June when difficulties with the simulator were slowing their progress and, according to Janet, sapping morale. Janet recalled that 'Neil used to come home with his face drawn white, and I was worried about him'.41 But while the wives may have seen the impact the mission was having on the men, according to Collins the crew never discussed among themselves the difficulties facing them. He himself felt subject to an imaginary commandment proclaiming 'thou shalt not screw up', but he had no idea whether Neil and Buzz felt the same way since they rarely talked about anything beyond technical details. 'Amiable strangers,' he later famously called the three of them.42 To outsiders, Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin seemed unconnected. Guenter Wendt, the technician in charge of the launch-pad, noticed that they always arrived for launch training sessions in separate cars.43 But beneath the surface, having worked together so closely for so long they were able to read each other's thoughts. By July, Michael believed that they had come to know each other 'by osmosis or some other mysterious transfer process, rather than by direct communication'.44
As they got closer to lift-off, the pressure continued to build. When the Apollo 9 crew reached the same point in their preparations, they were physically run down and suffered chest infections that postponed their launch by three days. Apollo 11 could not afford a similar delay since suitable lighting conditions on the Moon would not return for a month. To limit the risk of infection, the men went into quarantine at the Cape, emerging on Saturday 5 July for a press conference in Houston. Extraordinary measures were taken to protect them from any germs carried by the press. Walking into the room, the crew wore gas masks which they removed only once they'd taken their seats within a large three-sided plastic box. Beside them, fans blew air out into the auditorium.45 Each of them spoke before taking questions. One reporter asked Armstrong whether he believed the Moon would eventually become part of the civilised world; another wanted to know if he feared losing his private life after the mission. To a question about what he would be taking to the Moon, Neil wryly replied, 'If I had a choice, I would take more fuel.' After sitting through an array of arid answers, Norman Mailer wrote that Armstrong 'surrendered words about as happily as a hound allowed meat to be pulled out of his teeth'.
While the reporters vainly searched for drops of emotion as if looking for water on the Moon, a few hundred yards away Gene Kranz and his team were beginning their final training session. The crew later gave many individual interviews before going home at the end of a 14-hour day – unaware of 1201 alarms that could be safely ignored.46
After flying back to the Cape on Monday 7 July, the men returned to the simulators, once again living a life of relative isolation. During one flight to Florida, Michael shared a T-38 with Deke Slayton, who mentioned that he had been looking at future missions. As the command module pilot on such a prominent trip, Collins could expect to lead a future flight, giving him a chance to walk on the Moon. Michael told Deke that if Apollo 11 aborted he would be looking to fly again but if all went well this would be his last space-flight. He had come to believe that 'I simply was putting too much of myself into Apollo 11 to consider doing it all over again at a later date; besides, the strain on my wife was not good and should end as soon as possible.'47
The mission consumed so much time and energy over so many months that in some respects the astronauts knew more about what was happening on the Moon than on Earth. 'When you're part of the pioneering effort,' Buzz later said, 'there's a focusing of an individual's concentration and level of attention that is at the exclusion of a lot of other things. It's a kind of gunbarrel vision.'48 They largely remained aloof from developments dominating the news at home and abroad, events that, like their own mission, promised to occupy a place in modern American history. For in 1969 America was a divided country, and there was hope that the flight would restore some of the national pride that had corroded over the previous 18 months.
In January 1968, the Viet Cong's series of successful counterattacks demonstrated that America was not going to be able to extricate itself from Vietnam any time soon. At home, smouldering resentment over the war was ignited by revelations of a massacre of up to 500 civilians by US soldiers in the village of My Lai. Anti-war protesters were involved in fighting on university campuses and elsewhere across America. For five days in August 1968, demonstrators in Chicago clashed with police in the streets surrounding the Democratic National Convention.
Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin believed they were going to the Moon in the name of America, but for millions of black Americans, many of whom had until recently been confronted by widespread segregation, NASA was almost exclusively white, spectacularly rich, and might as well have been on the Moon already. During the 1968 Olympic Games in Mexico City, sprinters Tommie Smith and John Carlos presented a Black Power salute by raising their gloved fists in the air. They, at least, did not share the notion of a unified America such as might have been felt in Houston. The $24 billion invested in Apollo was said to be benefiting the economy since not a cent of it was spent in space, but critics couldn't help wondering how much of it was being spent in the poorer corners of the nation. The cash largely went to other rich white organisations such as North American Rockwell and Grumman. NASA was picketed, and there were reports of bomb threats. For much of America, the deluge of fire surrounding the launch of Apollo 6 was overshadowed by the assassination of Dr Martin Luther King on the same day. In Houston, Buzz joined a march in memory of the civil rights leader, accompanied by his church minister, the Reverend Dean Woodruff.
In the midst of the turmoil, for many people a rocket launch, or 'shot' in US terms, was an exhilarating distraction, and of course nothing would represent sparkling success – American success – more than NASA's Moon shot. It was the stuff of fantasy, always a safe refuge when times are bad. It would be a decisive blow against communist Russia, it would remind the rest of the world that America was a force to be reckoned with, and as such it simply had to succeed. It was all down to the 'Moonmen', as the crew were described in the press.49 The extent of the pressure the men were under was clear to NASA administrator Dr Thomas Paine, who joined them for dinner on Thursday 10 July, just days before the launch. Emphasising that they were not to take undue risks, he told them that if they were unsuccessful they could try again on the next flight. His promise was unrealistic, but it served its purpose in encouraging the men to avoid unnecessary dangers.50
That weekend – as thousands of people began partying on the Florida coast, and Chris Kraft and other managers quietly fretted over Luna 15 – a sense that things were finally about to get under way descended on Houston and the Cape. On Monday 14 July, a flight readiness review confirmed the launch would go ahead in two days' time, and at 5pm the extended countdown began.51 A rising tide of tension threatened to engulf the men at the centre of all the activity. Neil, Michael and Buzz calmly tried to shut out the world's expectations and focus on the task in hand. Janet believed that Neil finally felt ready to attempt the landing. Previously, she had told the press there was no point in worrying about the outcome of the mission because 'It doesn't do any good. They're up there on their own. There isn't anything we can do to help.'52
Chapter 12
THE EAGLE HAS WINGS
Groggy after a difficult night's sleep, Michael Collins wondered whether the insistent voice in his ear could possibly be talking to him.
Mission Control: 'Apollo 11, Apollo 11. Good morning from the black team.'
Collins: 'You guys wake up early.'
On the morning of Sunday 20 July, Collins was woken 93 hours and 32 minutes into the mission, at 6.04am. The fifth day of the flight promised to be the most demanding, and none of the crew had slept well. 'The pressure was beginning to build at this point,'1 Neil later said. After prepa
ring the LM, the two spacecraft would undock. Neil and Buzz would then make the first of two burns, putting them in an elliptical orbit with a lowest point above the Moon of 8.3 miles. At this point, the crew would begin a second burn that would carry them down to the surface. For the moment, the men were just about to begin their tenth orbit around the Moon, and there were just two minutes to go before radio contact was lost.
Mission Control: '11, Houston. Looks like the command module's in good shape. Black team has been watching it real closely for you.'
Collins: 'We sure appreciate that. Because I sure haven't.'
As they passed around the far side Buzz entered the lower equipment bay and began to prepare for the landing that would take place in nine hours' time. He and Neil would remain in their pressure-suits throughout their time aboard Eagle, which meant that once again they would have to put on the urine and fecal collection devices. After doing this, Buzz pulled on a set of long johns that contained hundreds of thin plastic tubes. These allowed the underwear to be cooled by water during the arduous work on the surface. He then floated into the LM, making room for Neil to begin the same process, while Mike prepared breakfast.
In Houston, Mission Control's black team were coming to the end of their shift, and nearly two hours after they had woken the crew they began handing over to the white team of Gene Kranz. Carrying a plastic bag, Kranz walked into the Mission Operations Control Room and greeted his controllers as he slowly threaded his way towards his seat. By his own admission he was the most emotional of all the flight directors, and was keenly aware of the historical significance of what he and his men were hoping to do.2 He hadn't slept well either. Leaving his bag at the flight director's console, Kranz headed out of the MOCR to pass the time of day with the engineers and contractors in the spacecraft analysis room. After chatting to Grumman's Tom Kelly and the president of North American Rockwell, by 8am he had returned to his console. From his bag, Kranz retrieved his white and silver waistcoat. Once he'd slipped it on he was ready to take over.
Aboard Columbia, breakfast was taking longer than usual. Tired, busy and preoccupied by the events ahead of them, the men fell out of their mealtime routine. Normally they helped each other prepare the many breakfast bags and packages, but with bits and pieces of their bulky spacesuits taking up precious room it had become difficult to move about. 'The rhythm got slightly out of whack,' Buzz remembered, 'and once we finally got it going properly we all three bemoaned the fact that the simple act of eating was something there was no training for.'3 After the meal, Buzz – still only wearing his long johns – returned to the LM to begin preparing Eagle for flight, a five-hour process. While Aldrin worked through his checklist, Michael helped Neil into his pressure-suit, doing up the inaccessible crotch-to-shoulder zip and checking everything was as it should be. Meanwhile, Mission Control read them the day's news.
Among the large headlines concerning Apollo this morning, there's one asking that you watch for a lovely girl with a big rabbit. An ancient legend says a beautiful Chinese girl called Chang-o has been living there for 4,000 years. It seems she was banished to the Moon because she stole the pill of immortality from her husband. You might also look for her companion, a large Chinese rabbit, who is easy to spot since he is always standing on his hind feet in the shade of a cinnamon tree. The name of the rabbit is not reported.
'Jesus Christ,' Collins thought to himself. While trying to make coffee and stay on top of the confusion around him he couldn't quite believe he was listening to Houston's thoughts on large Chinese rabbits.4 'OK. We'll keep a close eye out for the bunny girl,' he told the ground.
Since the two vehicles would later be undocking, all three men would have to put on their suits, in case either spacecraft suddenly lost pressure, though Michael wouldn't be walking on the Moon and therefore wouldn't need the so-called 'liquidcooled garment' the others were wearing. After helping Collins into his suit, Armstrong entered the lunar module. Sunlight, streaming through the windows, bounced off the white beta-cloth locker covers, while in front of him the grey instrument panels had come alive in the orange glow emanating from the gauges.
After powering up the inertial platform that fed the primary computer, Neil and Buzz tested communications with Houston. They were about half an hour ahead of the flight-plan. While Collins gave Armstrong details of their position, to be entered into Eagle's guidance system, Buzz returned to Columbia to put on his pressure-suit. Once Aldrin floated back into the LM he shut the hatch and for the first time he and Neil were sealed inside the cramped spacecraft that would be their home for the next 30 hours. Michael then installed the probe and drogue docking assembly and secured Columbia's hatch. Now that Eagle was powered up and operational, he could open a valve that would allow the tunnel connecting the two spacecraft to empty of oxygen.
Collins: 'OK, I'm ready to go to LM tunnel vent.'
Aldrin: 'You got it all vented now?'
Collins: 'Negative, it's a slow process. I'm on vent, but – it's just going to take a little while here.'
Aldrin: 'Roger. Just give us a call. We're pressing on with some other stuff.'
Now wearing their gloves and 'bubble' helmets, and connected to the life-support system, Neil and Buzz tested the suits' radio connections. They then fired the explosive bolts that unfolded the LM's four legs. Passing across the near side of the Moon on the twelfth orbit, Armstrong and Aldrin began checking the inertial platform and the primary computer. Houston needed to send information using the powerful S-band signal, which could only be done once the LM's most powerful transmitter/ receiver – the high-gain antenna – was directly facing Earth. Using controls in the cabin, Buzz tried to rotate it into the correct position but found its signal was blocked by the lunar module itself. For the moment they could only talk to the ground using less powerful omni-directional antennas. Once S-band communications became available, Houston sent navigation data to the abort guidance system (the AGS, serving as the LM's backup computer). After this, Armstrong and Aldrin tested their thrusters, the final major check they needed to perform. In Houston, Kranz had polled his controllers on whether they were happy to proceed with the undocking, and five minutes before the crew went 'over the hill' permission was given to separate.
Mission Control: 'Apollo 11, Houston. We're go for undocking. Over.'
Aldrin: 'Roger. Understand.'
Collins: 'Houston, Columbia.'
Mission Control: 'Go ahead, Columbia. Over.'
Collins: 'Roger. There will be no television of the undocking.
I have all available windows either full of heads or cameras, and I'm busy with other things.'
Before the mission Collins had admitted that 'I would be either a liar or a fool if I said that I think I have the best of the three seats on Apollo 11... but I'm an integral part of the operation and happy to be going in any capacity.'5 For the rest of the world, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were just names in a newspaper – in Russia, Pravda had taken to calling Neil 'the Czar of the Ship' – but for Michael, Neil and Buzz were the only people who had shared everything he had been going through since Christmas. Now that the two of them were about to begin the key part of their mission, the time was fast approaching when he would have to bid them farewell. All that remained to be done was for the command module to be held still while Armstrong punched computer buttons as he finely tuned the AGS.
Collins: 'I have 5 minutes and 15 seconds since we started. Attitude is holding very well.'
Aldrin: 'Roger, Mike. Just hold it a little bit longer.'
Collins: 'No sweat, I can hold it all day. Take your sweet time. How's the czar over there? He's so quiet.'
Armstrong: 'Just hanging on – and punching.'
Collins: 'All I can say is, beware the revolution. You cats take it easy on the lunar surface. If I hear you huffing and puffing, I'm going to start bitching at you.
Aldrin: 'OK Mike.'
After Buzz finished setting up a 16mm film camera in his window, at 12.44pm
Michael pushed a button releasing the latches holding the two spacecraft together. Excess oxygen immediately escaped from the tunnel, gently pushing the two spacecraft apart. From that moment Neil and Buzz were flying aboard a vehicle in which it would be impossible to come home.
Mission Control: 'Eagle, Houston. We see you on the steerable [antenna]. Over.'
Armstrong: 'Roger. Eagle is undocked.'
Mission Control: 'Roger. How does it look, Neil?'
Armstrong: 'The Eagle has wings.'
Mission Control: 'Roger.'
With the two spacecraft flying in formation, 60 feet apart, Collins took a careful look out of the small window directly in front of the left-hand couch.6 He had made a trip to the Grumman factory specifically to see what the lunar lander should look like once the legs were properly extended. Now, as Neil slowly rotated the LM, it seemed to Michael that with its legs locked in position Eagle was 'the weirdest-looking contraption ever to invade the sky'.7 A minute before he was due to move off to a greater distance, Collins embroidered the truth a little.
Collins: 'I think you've got a fine-looking flying machine there, Eagle, despite the fact you're upside-down.'
Armstrong: 'Somebody's upside-down.'
Armstrong: 'See you later.'
Collins: 'OK, Eagle. One minute until ignition. You guys take care.'
Firing his forward thrusters for eight seconds, Michael flew the command module away from the LM; at the same time Neil and Buzz tested the all-important rendezvous radar by locking on to Columbia's transponder. Once Columbia was a thousand feet away, Armstrong and Aldrin were ready to begin the first part of the descent to the surface, a manoeuvre known as descent orbit insertion (DOI). To put themselves on the correct approach route, the burn would have to be made while they were out of radio contact with Houston – like so many other key moments of the mission. In igniting their engine on the far side of the Moon, the spacecraft would enter an elliptical orbit. At its lowest point, this would bring Eagle down to just 50,000 feet (or 8.3 miles) above a spot 260 miles east of the landing site.8 One hour and six minutes after undocking, the ground gave permission for DOI, and ten minutes later the two spacecraft slipped out of contact, at the beginning of the fourteenth orbit.