by Dan Parry
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On a steaming day in Houston, the crew's homes were crowded with visitors. Through the squawk boxes, everyone had overheard Neil and Buzz preparing the LM- but the technical jargon was sometimes hard to understand. 'Better than 90 per cent of what families could ever hope to hear on this party line was incomprehensible,' Jim Lovell later said.9 Joan was helped through some of the more complicated things by Apollo 9 veteran Rusty Schweickart. That morning she had attended the Presbyterian church where Buzz was an elder, taking with her their children Michael, Jan and Andy. Reporters had tried to capture a comment as she entered but Joan had waved them away before settling down to listen to a sermon about the 'epitome of the creative ability of man'.10 She was home by 11.30, and while she waited for the landing to get under way she watched the continuous TV coverage. Friends from church had brought lunch, including a cake with icing in the shape of an American flag beside the words 'we came in peace for all mankind'.11 At her home in the suburb of El Lago, Janet was also watching the TV coverage, while Bill Anders, a member of the backup crew, tried to answer her questions about the landing. 'What can go wrong and they can still go?' she asked. 'It depends on what went wrong,' Anders told her.12
Since the launch, four days earlier, Janet, Joan and Pat had been keeping open house, with a steady stream of friends and relatives bringing them food and other gifts. Among those staying with Joan was Jeannie Bassett, who was helping to look after the children.13 Entering or leaving the crew's homes meant having to push through throngs of reporters camped outside. On the first day of the flight a photographer had sneaked over Joan's back fence, which had upset her.14 She very much wanted to give the right image to the press, but on her terms, and on the morning of the second day she made a point of raising the American flag on her front lawn to give them an early picture. Her duties done, she and the children sneaked out of the back of the house and into the car of a waiting friend who whisked them off to a shopping centre 12 miles away.15 Janet had spent much of the second day clearing leaves from the pool, before settling down to watch the TV broadcast in the evening. Joan also caught the broadcast, she and Jeannie helping the children to identify the voices as the crew described the Earth. 'You'd better watch yourselves, boys – you're going to run out of material,' she joked. 'Especially those three,' quipped somebody in the background. When Pat saw the broadcast she discovered Mike was growing a moustache.16
Despite attempts to remain light-hearted, by the third day the pressure was beginning to take its toll. Pat and Janet joined Joan for a pool party, the three of them giving a joint picture for the press. Reporters had managed to put questions to the children after Pat dropped them off at a day camp en route to the party. When six-year-old Michael was asked if his daddy was going to go down in history, he replied, 'Yeah,' but gave as good as he got when he asked, 'What is history?'17 When Pat went to get her hair done on the morning of the fourth day, three female reporters had managed to get appointments at the same time and at the same place. Later that day, listening to radios and squawk boxes, the wives waited for the men to safely come round from the far side of the Moon after LOI-1. Janet had been briefed by Apollo 10 commander Tom Stafford so that she would feel prepared ahead of the landing. That night, while her family and friends accepted a dinner invitation from next door, Janet stayed at home, preferring to eat alone.18
The following morning, Sunday 20 July, the Aldrin family attended the packed service at Webster Presbyterian Church. After the sermon, the Reverend Dean Woodruff broke the Communion bread and held it up for everyone to see, pointing out that a piece was missing. The implication was that it had gone with Buzz. He called on the Aldrin household later that afternoon, listening to the transmissions and sharing the tension during the radio silences.19 For 48 minutes in every two-hour orbit, the crew were out of contact with the Earth. During their fourteenth circuit of the Moon, Neil and Buzz would theoretically complete the DOI burn. No-one could know for sure until radio contact resumed. At that point, if all had gone to plan, the landing would begin less than 20 minutes later.
In TV studios around the world, anchormen and experts were preparing for what promised to be the most significant moment in television history. There was a sense that humanity was going somewhere radically new. Unlike historical voyages of discovery, this time, through the wonders of television, the explorers were bringing mankind with them. It was a tight squeeze. Diagrams and animations supplied by NASA revealed how the astronauts were standing up in the tiny cabin of the lunar module. After explaining to viewers that there wouldn't be any TV pictures from space until the moonwalk, the networks broadcast the radio messages sent to and from Mission Control.
In the Mission Operations Control Room (MOCR), Kranz and his team were waiting for Eagle to resume contact. Kranz felt that the air had started to 'crackle' as anticipation of the coming events took hold of his young flight controllers.20 Sitting to his left was Charles Lewis who, having survived his brush with the 'natives' on Zanzibar, was now serving as an assistant flight director. Further along the third row was communications officer Ed Fendell, supporting Michael in the command module. According to Kranz, Fendell liked to poke fun at his fellow controllers, but while some found him disruptive, Kranz respected his independence and reliability. Also supporting Columbia were John Aaron and Buck Willoughby (call-signs EECOM and GNC), who would be on hand to help Collins should he need to rescue the LM. Eagle itself was assisted by most of the rest of the controllers, including Dick Brown, who looked after communications and sat next to Fendell. In front of them, flight surgeon John Zieglschmid sat near to Deke Slayton and CapCom Charlie Duke, while across the aisle to the right were Bob Carlton and Don Puddy. The dry, laconic Carlton (call-sign Control) was monitoring Eagle's navigation, control and propulsion systems, while the quick-witted Puddy (known as TELMU) watched the electrical power and life-support equipment. In the front row sat Steve Bales, the diligent Guido officer, who was looking after the LM's radar and computers and who had requested the extra training sessions to study the alarms. To his left, watching the LM's trajectory, was flight dynamics officer Jay Greene, described by Kranz as a cocky 'pipe-smoking rabblerouser'. The final members of the slightly rebellious front row were Chuck Deiterich, who would help plot a route home in an emergency, and Gran Paules, who was supporting Bales. Assisted by their backroom colleagues, the white team were monitoring the 270 measurements continuously transmitted by the LM.21
Also sitting in the MOCR were astronauts Pete Conrad, Fred Haise, Jim Lovell and Bill Anders, while at the back, in 'management row', were Bob Gilruth, George Low, Chris Kraft and General Sam Phillips, Director of the Apollo Program. Behind the windows of the viewing gallery were more senior NASA figures from than had ever been gathered in one place before. They included administrator Tom Paine, the directors of four space centres (including Wernher von Braun), and astronauts Tom Stafford, Gene Cernan, Jim McDivitt and John Glenn. With them was John Houbolt, the man who had so energetically pushed for lunar orbit rendezvous.
When radio contact was lost prior to the DOI burn, Kranz suddenly became aware of the pressure his young team was under. Their average age was just 26, and some, like Puddy and Bales, had come straight from college. Instructing them to switch from the usual voice loops, he addressed them on a private internal circuit. Cornered in the viewing gallery, the brass were literally cut out of the loop. Later, Kranz remembered that he 'had to tell these kids how proud I was of the work that they had done'. In a stirring, off-the-cuff speech, he reminded them that by landing a man on the Moon they were about to write history. He finished by saying that whatever decisions they chose to make he would stand by them, for 'we came into this room as a team and we will leave as a team'.22
The morning's tasks had occasionally felt like a simulation. When Kranz ordered the doors to be locked, no longer was there any doubt that this was the real thing. From now on no-one would be able to enter or leave Mission Control until the crew had either crashed,
aborted or landed.23
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Nearly eight minutes after losing contact with the ground, Neil and Buzz ignited the LM's engine for the first time. The DOI manoeuvre began in almost total darkness, only the thinnest rays of the Sun reaching beyond the curve of the Moon. Burning for nearly 30 seconds, the engine produced enough thrust for them to feel its force in their legs. Once the burn was complete, Eagle was flying faster and lower than Columbia, and descending all the time. By the time they were ready to resume contact with Houston, 40 minutes after DOI, Armstrong and Aldrin were already down to an altitude of 18 miles and coasting at nearly 3,700mph.24 The LM was in a horizontal position with its engine facing the direction of travel, so that it might have been described as flying backwards. It was also flying windows down. Had they not been in weightlessness, Neil and Buzz would have considered themselves to be travelling feet first and face down. In this attitude they could look down at passing landmarks and use their engine as a brake. With the Sun on its back, Eagle's golden foil glittered brightly against the grey plains below as it swooped low and fast across the surface.
More than 40 miles above, Michael used his sextant to follow its progress. 'The LM is nearly invisible,' he later said, 'and looks like any one of a thousand tiny craters, except that it is moving.'25 Although he was coasting behind the LM, his higher altitude meant that Columbia would peer over the edge of the Moon before Eagle, which in turn meant that Collins was the first to get through to Houston. Immediately, Charlie Duke wanted to know about the LM's burn.
Mission Control: 'Columbia, Houston. Over.'
Collins: 'Houston, Columbia. Reading you loud and clear. How me?'
Mission Control: 'Roger. Five-by, Mike. How did it go? Over.'
Collins: 'Listen, babe. Everything's going just swimmingly, beautiful.'
Mission Control: 'Great. We're standing by for Eagle.'
Collins: 'OK, he's coming along.'
At 2.48pm, a wave of energy ran through the MOCR as Houston resumed contact with Eagle. Just two minutes later, however, the all-important high-gain signal dropped out. While other mission rules dealt with clearly defined problems, the question of whether there was enough telemetry or not was down to Kranz's personal opinion. He felt that of all the rules in the book, 'this is the only one that really bothers me, because it's a pure judgment call'.26 The link was re-established, but just four minutes later, with Eagle now down to around 12.5 miles altitude, the controllers' screens froze once again. In a little over 10 minutes' time, Neil and Buzz were due to begin the powered descent initiation (PDI), their second and final burn. But if the situation didn't improve soon Kranz knew he might have to send them around the Moon on another orbit. After that, if he still wasn't ready to allow the final burn, the LM's dwindling electrical supply would force him to scrub the mission.
With time ticking by, Duke asked for help from Collins.
Mission Control: 'Columbia, Houston. We've lost Eagle again. Have him try the high gain. Over.'
While Neil checked their position relative to objects on the surface, Aldrin monitored the primary and backup computers, and did what he could to maintain communications. He adjusted the position of the high-gain antenna, Eagle's strongest transmitter- receiver, but once again it was trying to send its signal through the body of the spacecraft. With the LMquickly approaching the critical low point in its orbit, all that Buzz picked up was static.
Collins: 'Eagle, this is Columbia. Houston lost you again. They're requesting another try at the high gain.'
Mission Control: 'Eagle, Houston. We have you now. Do you read? Over?'
Aldrin: 'Loud and clear. I don't know what the problem was there. It [the steerable high-gain antenna] just started oscillating around in yaw. According to the needle, we're picking up a little oscillation right now, as a matter of fact.'
With less than six minutes until the burn, Armstrong was advised to yaw ten degrees right to make communications easier. But again there was no response from Eagle. With time running out, Kranz had to decide whether he could let the descent begin. He needed to poll his team on the landing, but waited 40 seconds longer than scheduled before asking them for a judgement based on the most recent information. As he rapidly went through the call-signs, Kranz received a curt 'go' from each man – then Steve Bales reported, 'We're out on our radial velocity, we're halfway to our abort limits.' The spacecraft's rate of descent showed a discrepancy Bales couldn't explain. Jay Greene also noticed that the LM was lower than expected. Despite the references to 'abort' before the burn had even begun, Kranz told Duke, 'CapCom, we're go for powered descent.'
Duke passed on the instruction, but again there was no response. Unable to talk directly to Buzz, Charlie again asked for help from Michael, who was now 120 miles behind Eagle.
Mission Control: 'Columbia, Houston. We've lost them on the high gain again. We recommend they yaw right 10 degrees and reacquire.'
Collins: 'Eagle, this is Columbia. You're go for PDI and they recommend you yaw right 10 degrees and try the high gain again.'
Collins: 'Eagle, you read Columbia?'
Aldrin: 'Roger. We read you.'
Collins: 'OK.'
Mission Control: 'Eagle, Houston. We read you now. You're go for PDI. Over.'
Aldrin: 'Roger. Understand.'
Coasting over the surface towards the shadows looming up at them from the west, Buzz switched on the 16mm camera in his window, recording their panoramic view of the brightly lit ground passing below. While Michael moved freely around the spacious command module, looking through the sextant and monitoring the flight-plan, Neil and Buzz were held in position by their cables as they checked their position. If they were much higher than 51,000 feet at PDI, they risked running out of fuel.27 The Manned Space Flight Network was able to give a rough estimate of their altitude but could be up to 10,000 feet off. Neil had to supplement its information with his own calculations.28 While waiting for ignition, Armstrong noted the speed at which objects on the ground passed along a scale etched on his window. By combining this information with the LM's velocity and orbital period, he was able to do some quick arithmetic to gauge Eagle's altitude.
Satisfied with his calculations, he and Buzz waited for the computer to complete its countdown to ignition – and at 3.05pm Armstrong permitted Aldrin to instruct it to fire the engine. Five seconds later, Neil called 'ignition', simultaneously telling Houston and millions of TV viewers around the world that the final leg of Apollo 11's historic journey had begun.29
Up to this point, the fuel in Eagle's tanks had been floating in weightlessness. When the thrust from the engine caused it to settle, Houston had a chance to assess the quantity consumed during the previous burn. But again the telemetry dropped out, and Bob Carlton was left to guess how much fuel they had left. He could do little more than say that the crew had roughly 12 minutes to reach the landing site. While Kranz and Duke each wondered whether they were doing the right thing in pushing forward despite the communication problems, Neil and Buzz were preoccupied with their own concerns.30 Up to PDI, everything they had done had been tested on previous missions. Now, as their altitude dropped to 47,000 feet, they were descending into the unknown. In case of an emergency the crew chose to leave their rendezvous radar on, allowing it to send regular updates to the computer.
Buzz noticed an electrical meter was fluctuating, but Neil suddenly discovered they had a bigger problem. Eagle's landing radar wouldn't begin operating until they descended to between 40,000 and 35,000 feet. Until then he needed to compare the time they arrived above familiar hills and craters with estimates that had been worked out previously. In doing this, Neil discovered that they were ahead of where they should be.
Armstrong: 'OK, we went by the 3-minute point early. A little off.'
Aldrin: 'Rate of descent looks real good. Altitude – right about on.'
Armstrong: 'Our position checks downrange show us to be a little long.'
Mission Control: 'Roger. Copy.'
For the moment, however, he had other concerns. After passing over the crater Maskelyne-W he began to roll the spacecraft over by 180 degrees so that they would no longer face down but directly up. Initially this took much longer than expected, but once Neil adjusted the hand controller they began turning more quickly until they were looking straight up into space. They were now less than 40,000 feet above the Moon, low enough for the landing radar to begin sending information to the computer. In trying to estimate their height, the guidance system disagreed with the figures supplied by the radar, differing by 2,900 feet. Focusing on the instruments, Buzz reported the difference to Neil.
Aldrin: 'Delta-H is minus 2900. [D, or delta, stood for difference, and H for height.] We got the Earth right out our front window.'