Earthrise

by Edgar Mitchell

  On February 5, 1971, Edgar Mitchell jumped off the last rungs of a ladder connecting him to NASA’s Antares spacecraft and landed with two feet on the Moon. Following the disastrous Apollo 13 mission, Mitchell was one of three astronauts to successfully complete the Apollo 14 journey to the Moon, though it wasn’t without its own alarming moments.

  In Earthrise, Edgar recalls his spectacular trip to the Moon and the life experiences that got him there, including his early days spent in Roswell, New Mexico, amid nuclear testing and the rumored UFO crash; his first solo airplane flight as a young teen; his time as a navy combat pilot; and becoming a NASA astronaut. With fascinating detail, Edgar describes what it was like to launch into space and land on the Moon, illuminating everything from the practical—eating, sleeping, and going to the bathroom in space—to the mystical, life-changing experience of gazing at Earth from afar.

  With illuminating sidebars, transcripts of NASA recordings from the historic Apollo 14 mission, and extensive resources including lists of space-related websites, museums, organizations, films, and books, Earthrise is an invaluable addition to any space, astronomy, or science buff’s bookshelf.

  Copyright © 2014 by Edgar Mitchell and Ellen Mahoney

  All rights reserved

  Foreword © 2014 by Brian Cox

  All rights reserved

  Published by Chicago Review Press Incorporated

  814 North Franklin Street

  Chicago, Illinois 60610

  ISBN 978-1-61374-901-2

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Mitchell, Edgar D.

  My adventures as an Apollo 14 astronaut / Edgar Mitchell with Ellen Mahoney; foreword by Dr. Brian Cox.

  pages cm

  Audience: Age 12+.

  Audience: Grades 7 to 8.

  Includes bibliographical references and index.

  ISBN 978-1-61374-901-2 (cloth)

  1. Mitchell, Edgar D.—Juvenile literature. 2. Astronauts—United States—Biography—Juvenile literature. 3. Project Apollo (U.S.)—Juvenile literature. I. Title.

  TL789.85.M57A3 2014

  629.45’4—dc23

  2013037858

  Interior and cover design: Sarah Olson

  NASA transcripts courtesy of NASA Historical Reference

  Collection, Washington, DC

  Printed in the United States of America

  5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Foreword by Dr. Brian Cox

  Introduction: Trouble on the Far Side

  1 From Big Skies to Buck Rogers

  2 Barnstormers, Flying Machines, and UFOs

  3 Spreading My Wings

  4 NASA Here We Come

  5 Getting There

  6 A Super Long Shot

  7 The Rocky Road Down

  8 A Marvelous Day for a Moonwalk

  9 Trek to Cone Crater

  10 The Extraordinary Ride Home

  11 Expanding Horizons

  12 Exploring New Worlds

  Key Life Events

  Resources to Explore

  Websites About Space

  Museums and Organizations

  Films and Videos

  Books for Further Reading

  Index

  Foreword

  I was 23 months old when Edgar Mitchell walked on the Moon. I watched it live on TV, according to my dad, and perhaps this is one of the reasons why I have always thought—known, in fact—that the Apollo program remains humanity’s greatest achievement, despite half a lifetime of engineering and scientific progress.

  There are many reasons I know this, and you will read about them all in this book. In purely engineering terms, the goal set by John F. Kennedy in 1961 to land an astronaut on the Moon within a decade was more than ambitious, only 58 years after Orville Wright flew the first powered aircraft. Perhaps it could only have been achieved by a nation founded by explorers: “Ten years to the Moon? I took it as a personal challenge,” writes Edgar Mitchell. We have all benefited from the technologies and techniques developed during the Apollo years, in aviation and countless other fields.

  But there is a deeper reason to celebrate the spirit of Apollo: exploration is vital to human survival. This simple fact is often overlooked in an age where some see space flight as an unaffordable luxury. The great chemist Sir Humphry Davy made the case for the expansion of our physical and intellectual domain at the turn of the 19th century, just as the benefits of the Industrial Revolution were beginning to emerge. “Nothing is so fatal to the progress of the human mind as to suppose that our views of science are ultimate; that there are no mysteries in nature; that our triumphs are complete; and that there are no new worlds to conquer.”

  This book is the story of how a young farm boy from New Mexico learned these lessons firsthand by flying to the Moon and looking back at our home planet from a distance of a quarter of a million miles. Edgar Mitchell describes eloquently how his experiences in war caused him to look for a peaceful way to use his piloting skills, and how his flight aboard Apollo 14 changed his view of human possibility and progress. These are two of the most extreme experiences imaginable. The first none of us would wish to share, but the second I personally would have loved, although I am sure it takes a special kind of explorer to climb aboard the Saturn V, to this day the most powerful flying machine ever built.

  The most fascinating thing for me about this book is the insight it delivers into the personality of such an explorer, and how that personality changed as a result of a grand adventure beyond Earth. “If only our leaders could see Earth from space,” writes Mitchell, “we’d have different economic and political systems here on Earth.” I have never had that privilege, but my own experience in thinking about the origins and evolution of our universe and the natural laws that govern it leads me to a similar conclusion. Perspective is the key. It is far too easy for our societies to become myopic, gazing at the ground rather than the stars. Science, engineering, and exploration force us to look upward and outward, and I do not think it is idealistic or cliché to dream of a civilization that values these pursuits significantly more than we do today.

  The Apollo program, more than any other human endeavor, demonstrated what is possible when we merge our scientific and engineering creativity with our powerful instinct to see beyond the horizon. Edgar Mitchell’s book is a fascinating insight into the mind of one of those explorers, and the story of how his vision for the future was shaped by a voyage to the Moon.

  DR. BRIAN COX is a professor of particle physics and Royal Society University Research Fellow at the University of Manchester School of Physics and Astronomy, Manchester, England. He presents various space and science programs on BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) radio and television, including Wonders of the Universe.

  INTRODUCTION

  Trouble on the Far Side

  “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear.” —Mark Twain

  February 5, 1971, was no ordinary Friday. In fact, it was one of the most extraordinary days for planet Earth. There was a great deal of excitement on Earth, as well as nearly 240,000 miles away in space. Two humans were about to walk on the Moon, and I was one of them.

  I was part of the historic Apollo 14 Moon mission along with astronauts Alan Shepard and Stu Roosa. Alan was Commander of the flight, Stu was the Command Module Pilot, and I was the Lunar Module Pilot. As astronauts, we were all part of NASA, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration program in the United States. Stu and I were rookie astronauts and we’d been training for years for this important Moon mission. Alan was already famous all over the world as the very first American to fly into space.

  Just five days earlier, an enormous Saturn V rocket had blasted us out of Earth’s orbit and into s
pace from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. And now, as we soared toward the Moon, our home away from home was the Command Module (CM), a large high-tech spacecraft Stu had named the “Kitty Hawk” in honor of the Wright brothers’ first flight in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.

  We were so close to the lunar surface we could almost touch it. A few hours earlier, Alan and I had dined on a bizarre-looking breakfast of vacuum-sealed toast, bacon cubes, and lukewarm orange juice. But food was low on our priority list; there were important tasks ahead.

  As Stu flew the Kitty Hawk around the Moon, Alan and I carefully pulled on our bulky white spacesuits, which would keep us alive in the treacherous and airless lunar environment. Once we were suited up, we floated through a narrow hatch of the Kitty Hawk and into a smaller oddly shaped mini-spacecraft. This smaller spacecraft was our Lunar Module (LM), which Alan and I would use to fly down to the Moon. I had named this craft the “Antares” after a bright navigational star in the Scorpio constellation.

  After we were inside the Antares, Alan and I locked the hatch and took our places at the control panel. If everything proceeded exactly as planned, our spacecraft would land us on the Moon.

  It wasn’t long before we heard NASA’s Mission Control announce, “Kitty Hawk and Antares, you have go for undock!” Located in Houston, Texas, Mission Control was our informational lifeline during our flight, and we were constantly in touch with an important team of Capsule Communicators (CAPCOMS), engineers, scientists, and medical personnel who were all vital for the success of our mission.

  “We’re ready to go!” I said.

  Full of anticipation, Alan and I undocked the two spacecraft and backed the Antares out into the black sea of space. It felt like being in a small boat that had been set free from a large ship in the chilling darkness of night. But we were carefully and precisely heading toward our destination.

  Stu was now completely alone in the Kitty Hawk, where his job was to fly the spacecraft above us as he orbited the Moon. Stu would be busy taking photographs of the lunar surface and keeping a watchful eye as he awaited our return.

  Looking at the Moon through the window of the Antares was thrilling and unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I could see the vivid dark and light shadows of the Moon’s many craters and its rocky, barren terrain that stretched for miles. It was hard to believe I was so close to the big white orb I’d looked at my entire life.

  Although excitement filled the cabin, being onboard this mini-spacecraft was a challenge. It was so small that Alan and I had to stand up for almost everything. We stood up to fly the craft. We stood up to communicate with Mission Control. And we stood up to work and eat.

  Our flight plan and descent to the Moon were very specific and highly detailed. After detaching from the Kitty Hawk, we were to orbit the Moon about two times to make sure everything was going as planned and all our instruments were working perfectly. Fortunately, we knew a Moon landing was possible because four astronauts had already walked on the Moon. Apollo 11 astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin had landed at a site called the Sea of Tranquility, and Apollo 12 astronauts Pete Conrad and Alan Bean had landed at the Ocean of Storms.

  Now it was our turn. Alan and I were going to set down our craft in a beautiful area of the Moon called the Fra Mauro Highlands. This would be our celestial home for about two days.

  Everything was functioning exactly as it was supposed to, but then something suddenly went wrong. As we flew our craft in a low orbit about 10 miles above the Fra Mauro region, a bright red light flashed on our control panel. The light delivered a straightforward, no-nonsense message: Abort! Abort!

  Alan and I were stunned. Why was our spacecraft telling us to abort? Were we supposed to head back and return to Stu? After all this time and effort, was the Antares telling us to give up and go home?

  My scientific mind went into overdrive as I tried to diagnose the problem. I quickly realized there were three potential scenarios. One, we would land on the Moon after solving the problem. Two, we would crash on the Moon. Or three, we would abort the mission and return to the Kitty Hawk never having set foot on the Moon.

  But we’d flown nearly a quarter of a million miles to get here and we were extremely close to landing. I couldn’t imagine failing now.

  Alan and I started an intense conversation with our CAP-COM, Fred Haise, in Mission Control. I felt my heart pound and wondered what the NASA doctors thought about my heart rate, which was constantly being monitored. I took a deep breath and focused my mind.

  WHAT’S UP WITH THE MOON?

  Formed nearly 4.5 billion years ago, the Moon is about 2,000 miles across and has an airless environment with no wind or weather and extreme temperatures ranging from +250 degrees Fahrenheit to -380 degrees Fahrenheit. The Moon’s surface consists primarily of anorthosite (the light-colored areas), and its many craters were formed from the bombardment of countless asteroids, comets, and meteorites over time. Some of these craters filled with lava that cooled to form basalt. The dark areas on the Moon are similar to the rocks of Hawaii.

  About 240,000 miles from Earth, the Moon is Earth’s only natural satellite. It has one-sixth the gravitational pull of our planet and directly affects the continual rise and fall of Earth’s sea levels and tides.

  The same side of the Moon always faces our planet, and it takes the Moon about one month to orbit Earth. Depending on its position in relation to the Sun and Earth, the Moon goes through monthly phases including: new moon, waxing crescent, first quarter, waxing gibbous, full moon, waning gibbous, last quarter, waning crescent, and new moon. When the Sun, Earth, and Moon are in exact alignment, the Earth blocks the reflected sunlight from the Moon and a lunar eclipse occurs. A harvest moon is a full moon that is seen closest to the date of the autumn equinox in the Northern Hemisphere, and a blue moon is the name for the second full moon in one month.

  During the Apollo Moon missions, a large cache of nearly 840 pounds of Moon rocks was brought back to Earth.

  We were told there was a computer malfunction in our spacecraft and a young computer whiz named Don Eyles at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Boston was going to help solve the problem. Don had designed the craft’s original computer software and knew the system better than anyone. In the meantime, Alan and I were directed to continue to orbit the Antares around the Moon and then wait to hear what to do next.

  As we carefully flew the Antares around to the far side of the Moon, we had a complete communication blackout with Mission Control. We worried about what else might go wrong. Would we run out of fuel? Would we be able to solve this malfunction? Would we make it?

  As I looked out my window again, the surface of the Moon now seemed foreboding and even a bit frightening. Minutes passed by like hours. But with my long career as a navy pilot, a test pilot, and now as an astronaut, I felt certain I could handle what was happening. In fact, I felt 100 percent wired to take on this otherworldly challenge. I knew that every experience of my life, step by step by step, from my childhood until now, had prepared me for this moment.

  Would Alan and I ever walk on the Moon?

  Time would tell.

  From Big skies to Buck Rogers

  “Looking at these stars suddenly dwarfed my own troubles and all the gravities of terrestrial life. I thought of their unfathomable distance, and the slow inevitable drift of their movements out of the unknown past into the unknown future.”

  —H. G. Wells, The Time Machine (1895)

  I was born in a small stucco home on September 17, 1930, in the quiet rural town of Hereford, Texas. Hereford is located in the northern area of the state referred to as the Texas Panhandle. I was the first son of three children, and my grandmother, Josephine Arnold, helped my mother, Ollidean Mitchell, bring me into this world. My father’s name was Joseph Thomas, but everyone called him JT.

  Some people say everything is “big” in Texas, and as far as landmass, that’s true. But as a child, what looked incredibly big to me was the sky, wh
ich loomed large above the Texas prairies and plains.

  The night sky was a spectacular sight because there were so many glistening stars. Sometimes on warm summer evenings my dad and I would sit on the porch or head out to the nearby farm fields to stargaze. As we walked among the lightning bugs and listened to the hum of the crickets, we’d stare up at the sky and watch for shooting stars. If I were lucky enough and saw one streak across the sky, I’d holler out, “Look, Dad! I see one!”

  It wasn’t easy to find constellations in the star-speckled Texas sky, but if I tried I could usually find the Big Dipper and the Canis Major formations. And when the Moon was full and looked like an enormous dinner plate suspended in space, I would always look for the Man in the Moon.

  Little did I know that one day I would be a man on the Moon.

  Sparky, Oscar, and a Herd of Herefords

  My family moved from Texas to New Mexico in 1935. I was only five years old, and I now had a younger sister named Sandra. The four of us, my mom, dad, Sandra, and I, packed all our bags and belongings into our black 1929 Buick coupe. Sandra and I sat in the car’s rumble seat as we headed due west about 170 miles to the small town of Roswell, New Mexico, located in the Pecos Valley.

  In Roswell we lived on a small 100-acre farm that had elm and cottonwood trees, roses, a windmill, and a picket fence to keep cows from wandering into our yard. The Berrendo Creek ran through our property and provided us with delightful swimming holes during the rainy season. Our home was a simple brown clapboard farmhouse with a living room, a kitchen that had an icebox and a wood-burning stove, two bedrooms, a sleeping porch, and a bathroom. My mom always grew a vibrant vegetable garden in one corner of our yard. I loved our little home.

  The Pecos Valley was an exciting world of rolling hills, prairies, pastures, rivers, streams, caverns, and canyons just fit for adventure. There were always plenty of things to do and places to explore in this rugged but beautiful Southwest terrain.