The Eagle Has Landed: The Story of Apollo 11

by Jeffrey Smith

  At 6:31 p.m., suddenly and without warning, Grissom exclaimed: “Hey!”

  Seconds later, Roger Chafee shouted: “Fire in the spacecraft!”

  “Fire in the cockpit!” Edward White repeated.

  NASA personnel at Cape Canaveral and Mission Control, who were monitoring the training session, could not believe their ears.

  “We’re on fire! Get us out of here!” Chaffee pleaded.

  Television monitors showed White vainly reaching for the cockpit hatch. In less than 20 seconds, a flash fire asphyxiated the crew, and their bodies were charred by 2,500-degree (F) flames.

  The culprit turned out to be a frayed wire beneath the cockpit seats, which generated a spark in the 100 percent oxygen environment, igniting Velcro, paper flight plans, the polyester foam padding inside the seats, and the astronauts’ combustible, nylon space suits. The Apollo 1 crew had no chance of survival—to illustrate the astronaut’s hopeless predicament, in a 16.7-pound per square inch, 100 percent oxygen environment, a lit cigarette will disintegrate in only two seconds. The heat generated by the flash fire was intense enough to melt the steel inside the space capsule.

  The spacecraft’s ethylene glycol coolant yielded toxic fumes, and Grissom had tried in vain to reach the lever that would have vented the pure oxygen and noxious gases outside the spacecraft. Though equipped with state of the art technology, the space capsule did not have a single fire extinguisher.

  Any chance for escape was doomed by the configuration of the exit portal. The spacecraft’s outer hatch could not be opened until the inner one had been removed—a painstaking process, requiring the use of a torque wrench. Under ideal, non-emergent conditions, it took the astronauts and support crew 90 seconds to open the hatch. Ironically, Gus Grissom had argued against installing an explosive escape hatch in the Apollo spacecraft, perhaps tormented by lingering embarrassment over the sinking of his Mercury capsule, six years earlier.

  Within seconds of the fire breaking out, the pressurized capsule exploded, fracturing its walls. In vain, a rescue team tried to reach the astronauts, but the intense heat and shock waves from secondary explosions kept them at bay. When launch pad personnel finally gained access to the spacecraft, several of the rescuers burned their hands trying to open the hatch.

  Once inside the capsule, NASA technicians witnessed unimaginable horror. Chafee was found strapped in his seat, charred beyond recognition. Grissom and White were found near the hatch, their melted spacesuits fused together in a gory lump. Grissom (age 40), White (age 36), and Chaffee (age 31) became the first direct casualties of the American space program. Grissom and Chafee were buried at Arlington National Cemetery, while White was laid to rest at his alma mater, West Point.

  After the Apollo 1 tragedy, all manned spaceflights were halted for 21 months, while NASA tried to figure out what had gone wrong. An in-house investigatory committee ultimately recommended 1,341 design changes for the Apollo spacecraft.

  Because it was easier to use a single gas supply to maintain internal cabin pressure, 100 percent oxygen had been routinely pumped into all American spacecraft. After the Apollo 1 tragedy, the capsule atmosphere was changed to a mixture of 60 percent oxygen and 40 percent nitrogen to prevent propagation of an inferno. Flame retardant Velcro, paper, and space suit materials were also developed, in addition to non-flammable cooling liquids. The capsule hatch was re-designed, providing the crew with rapid exit capability. In the future, if a fire broke out inside the spacecraft during training sessions, the astronauts would have at least a fighting chance at survival.

  In the wake of the Apollo 1 fire, NASA officials were devastated, and many blamed themselves for the tragedy. Apollo Flight Director, Christopher Craft, was remarkably candid: “We got in too much of a God-damned hurry. We were willing to put up with a lot of poor hardware and poor preparation in order to try to get on with the job, and lot of us knew we were doing that.”

  Many political leaders, who had grown wary of the enormous budget strain created by the space program, vented their frustrations on NASA. During congressional hearings related to the Apollo 1 tragedy, NASA Administrator, James Webb, drew a lawmaker’s ire: “The level of incompetence and carelessness we’ve seen here is just unimaginable.”

  North American Aviation, builders of the Apollo spacecraft, also shared in the blame. In 1972, the company paid the widows of the Apollo 1 crew a $650,000.00 settlement.

  To honor the memories of Grissom, White, and Chafee, NASA cancelled the Apollo 1, 2, and 3 missions. The Apollo 4, 5, and 6 missions that followed were all unmanned test flights.

  The Apollo 4 spacecraft was launched on November 9, 1967, marking the first deployment of the powerful Saturn V rocket. Witnesses to the lift-off were unprepared for the Earth-trembling roar of the mammoth first stage engines. Sound waves violently shook the CBS News television broadcast trailer, located three miles from launch pad 31 A. News anchor, Walter Cronkite, placed his hands against the glass window to keep it from shattering, as ceiling tiles fell down: “My God, our building’s shaking here! Our building’s shaking! The roar is terrific! This big glass window is shaking…Look at that rocket go…Part of our roof has come in here.”

  Just 11.5 minutes after blast-off, the Apollo 4 spacecraft was in orbit. Later in the mission, the third stage Saturn rocket was fired, propelling the CSM into a higher orbit. On January 22, 1968, Apollo 5 was launched into space. During this test flight, an unmanned lunar module accompanied the CSM into orbit. After twin successes, the Apollo 6 spacecraft endured a series of malfunctions while in orbit, including problems with the guidance system and the third stage rocket. Because of these difficulties, the last unmanned Apollo mission lasted only six hours.

  Following the Apollo 1 tragedy, the general public’s enthusiasm for lunar exploration showed signs of fraying. A Harris Poll, commissioned in July of 1967, revealed that 46 percent of those surveyed opposed a manned lunar mission, with only 43 percent still indicating support. When asked if the Apollo project was worth 4 billion dollars per year, only 34 percent answered yes, while 64 percent replied no.

  On October 21, 1968, 21 months after the tragic launch pad fire, Apollo 7 was launched. Astronauts Walter Schirra, Donn Eisle, and Walter Cunningham spent 10 days in space, orbiting Earth 163 times. The crew conducted the first full test of the CSM, which performed well. The mission, however, was not without controversy. Schirra had been launched into space with a head cold, which he soon transmitted to his crewmates. In zero gravity, the astronauts found their nasal passages would not drain unless they constantly blew their noses—a difficult task while wearing space helmets. The astronauts also complained about the poor quality of their freeze-dried food stores, which escalated into arguments over who was entitled to the tastier meal selections.

  Schirra, who had already announced that this would be his last space flight, grew testy with Mission Control, after the crew was instructed to conduct additional, unplanned tests: “I have had it up to here, today. From now on, I am going to be an onboard Flight Director…” Post-mission, Schirra expanded on his frustrations: “I had fun with Mercury. I had fun with Gemini… I lose a buddy, my next door neighbor, Gus (Grissom), one of our seven; I lose two other guys I thought the world of. I began to realize this was no longer fun. I was assigned a mission where I had to put it back on track like Humpty-Dumpty.” Having already made the decision to retire, Schirra’s candor had no impact on his career. Eisle and Cunningham were not so lucky, and neither flew in space again.

  The Soviet Union endured its own tragic misfortunes during the Space Race. On April 23, 1967, a Soyuz I spacecraft was launched into orbit and circled the Earth 18 times. During reentry, the retrorockets were fired too early, causing the capsule to speed into Earth’s atmosphere at a much higher velocity than intended. When the spacecraft’s main and emergency parachutes became entangled, the capsule struck the ground at 400 miles per hour, killing cosmonaut Vladimir Komarov.

  In March of 1968, Yuri Gagarin, th
e most recognizable hero of the Soviet space program, was killed while flying a MIG-15 trainer jet. The famed cosmonaut was honored by having his ashes interred in the Kremlin Wall. On December 8, 1968, an unmanned Zond 7 spacecraft, scheduled to fly around the Moon, exploded shortly after launch, at an altitude of 27 miles.

  Apollo 8, which launched on December 21, 1968, was originally scheduled as a mission to test both the CSM and LM in Earth’s orbit. However, construction delays on the lunar module forced a change in plans. Instead, astronauts Frank Borman, James Lovell, and William Anders became the first humans to leave Earth’s orbit and travel to the Moon. On December 24, 1968, Apollo 8 entered a 69-mile-high lunar orbit and provided the first television images of the Moon’s surface. The spacecraft spent slightly over 24 hours in orbit, circling the Moon numerous times.

  On Christmas Eve, during its ninth orbit, as the spacecraft emerged from the dark side of the Moon and television cameras captured Earth in the horizon, astronaut Bill Anders addressed a live television audience: “We are now approaching lunar sunrise, and for all people back on Earth, the crew of Apollo 8 has a message that we would like to send to you. In the beginning, God created Heaven and Earth. And, the Earth was without form and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And, the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And, God said: ‘Let there be light…’”

  Over the next few minutes, the Apollo 8 crew took turns reading the first 10 verses of the Book of Genesis. The astronauts had ample reason to call on their faith; prior to launch, NASA experts calculated that the odds of the crew returning home alive were only 50 percent. The astronauts concluded their live broadcast with warm holiday wishes: “Merry Christmas and God bless all of you—all of you on the good Earth.”

  A stunning photograph of Earth taken during lunar orbit was featured on the cover of Life magazine. President Johnson was so enamored with the picture that he sent copies to world leaders, including North Vietnam’s Ho Chi Minh.

  Lunar mania soon spread. The morning after Apollo 8’s historic orbit, Pan Am initiated its “First Moon Flights Club.” For $14,000.00, members could reserve a seat on the airline’s proposed commercial Moon Shuttle, which Pan Am’s founder, Juan Trippe, forecast would be operational by the year 2000. Some 93,000 people eventually joined the lunar exploration club, including California Governor and future President of the United States, Ronald Reagan.

  Early on Christmas morning, the Apollo 8 spacecraft blasted out of lunar orbit, a maneuver known as trans-Earth injection—the crucial first step in its return home. As the astronauts were leaving the Moon, Jim Lovell radioed Mission Control: “Please be informed, there is a Santa Claus.”

  On December 27, 1968, Apollo 8 splashed down in the Pacific Ocean, proving that human beings could travel a quarter of a million miles into space and return home safely. At this point, little doubt remained—the United States was clearly the front runner in the Space Race.

  Apollo 9, launched on March 3, 1969, was the first test run for all mechanical components involved in a lunar landing. James A. McDivitt, David R. Scott, and Russell L. Schweickart orbited 119 miles above the Earth in the command service module (CSM), nicknamed Gumdrop. While in lunar orbit, Schweickart separated the lunar module (LM), christened Spider, from the CSM, and piloted it independent from the mother ship. Schweickart and McDivitt flew in Spider for 6 hours, travelling more than 100 miles from the CSM. Schweickart and Scott also took spacewalks, testing the protective suits and life support backpacks that would be utilized during excursions on the lunar surface.

  The full dress rehearsal for the first Moon landing began on May 18, 1969, when Apollo 10 blasted into space, left Earth’s orbit, and headed for the Moon. Once in lunar orbit, astronauts Thomas P. Stafford and Eugene Cernan boarded the LM, Snoopy, and flew to within 50,000 feet of the Moon’s surface. Stafford and Cernan were able to photograph the proposed lunar landing sight, providing NASA engineers and geologists with more detailed information about the regional topography. During the lunar descent, John Young remained alone in the CSM, Charlie Brown, and orbited high above his two crewmates.

  The Apollo missions 7, 8, 9, and 10 had been unqualified successes, setting the stage for the grand prize—a lunar landing.

  CHAPTER 6

  Amiable strangers

  By early 1969, the United States was clearly ahead of the Soviet Union in the quest to land a man on the Moon. The Soviets had been unable to achieve orbital docking capability with their Soyuz spacecraft until January of 1969; nearly three years after American astronauts had completed this maneuver during the Gemini program. While Wernher von Braun’s Saturn V had launched four Apollo spacecraft into space, the temperamental Soviet N-1 rocket suffered through multiple test failures; yet another misfire would occur just prior to the July launch of Apollo 11.

  The Soviets had formulated the logistics for a manned lunar landing, provided they could remedy the problems with their launch rocket. Two cosmonauts would leave Earth’s orbit aboard an L-2 Soyuz spacecraft—the equivalent of the Apollo command service module. Once in lunar orbit, a lone cosmonaut would descend to the Moon’s surface in a L-3 landing craft. In the end, because of repeated complications with the N-1 rocket, the Soviets would never get an opportunity to actually employ either the L-2 or the L-3.

  NASA’s third and final unmanned Moon exploration program, prior to the Apollo lunar landing, began in August of 1966, and lasted for an entire year. During that time, five Lunar Orbiters, all successfully launched into space, transmitted detailed photographs of the Moon’s surface, such that NASA experts could search for favorable landing sites. The lunar probes also measured radiation levels and mapped the Moon’s gravitational fields. Heading into 1969, John F. Kennedy’s vow to land a man on the Moon before the end of the decade no longer seemed impossible.

  In December of 1968, Neil Armstrong learned that he would command Apollo 11. If the Apollo 8, 9, and 10 missions were successful, Armstrong would become the first man to walk on the Moon.

  Director of Flight Crew Operations, Deke Slayton, was responsible for selecting the Apollo spaceflight crews. After informing Armstrong of his selection, Slayton discussed potential crewmates with the newly-appointed Apollo 11 commander.

  On January 4, 1969, Michael Collins and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin were told they would be joining Armstrong aboard Apollo 11. Collins would serve as the command module pilot, while Aldrin would accompany Armstrong to the lunar surface. Five days later, NASA publicly announced the identity of the Apollo 11 crewmembers.

  The Apollo 11 astronauts were all veterans of Gemini space flights. As part of their training, the trio had undergone rigorous studies in astronomy, aerodynamics, rocket propulsion, communications, medicine, meteorology, physics, guidance and navigation, flight mechanics, digital computer science, and geology. The geology training involved worldwide field trips to learn about different types of rocks and various soil compositions. Once they were selected to fly on Apollo 11, the three men intensified their training regimen, working 14-hour days, six days per week. On occasion, they worked an additional eight hours on Sundays. Between January 15 and July 15, 1969, the Apollo 11 astronauts logged a mind-boggling 3,521 training hours.

  Michael Collins labored in the North American Aviation-built command module simulator, mastering flight correction maneuvers, rendezvous/docking techniques, and preparing for multiple contingency scenarios. Armstrong and Aldrin not only had to familiarize themselves with the command module, but also spent countless hours in the Grumman-built lunar module simulator.

  Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins shared certain commonalities; each had been born in the same year (1930), and had fathered three children. They were also skilled pilots and dedicated perfectionists. While working together effectively, the astronauts spent little social or recreational time together. A Cape Canaveral technician remembered their unusual relationship: “Although they were totally competent, they just didn’t seem to gel as a team. Usually, when a missi
on crew was named, they stuck together like glue. But, these three, they never did. When they drove up to the pad for tests, it was always in three separate cars. If we broke for lunch, they always drove away separately. There did not seem to be much camaraderie between the three men. I’ve always said that they were the first crew who weren’t really a crew.”

  Buzz Aldrin later recalled the distant relationship with his crewmates: “There wasn’t anything that particularly drew me to Mike, and Neil and I hardly knew one another.” Michael Collins candidly described the trio as “amiable strangers.”

  Apollo 11 commander, Neil Alden Armstrong, was born on August 5, 1930 in Wapakoneta, Ohio. The eldest of three children, Armstrong was a solid student and an Eagle Scout. He became interested in aviation at an early age, and received his pilot’s license at the tender age of 16.

  Armstrong temporarily abandoned his studies during his sophomore year at Purdue University to become a fighter pilot in the United States Navy. During the Korean War, Armstrong flew 78 combat missions (120 hours), where he was no stranger to adversity. While making a bombing run in a F9F Panther, Armstrong’s aircraft was struck by ground fire and also hit a cable the North Koreans had strung across a valley. The cable sheared six feet off of his wing, forcing him to eject from the plane. At the conclusion of his military career in 1952, Armstrong had been awarded the Air Medal, Gold Star, Korean Service Medal, and Engagement Star.

  After the Korean War, Armstrong returned to civilian life and resumed college. In 1955, he graduated from Purdue with an undergraduate degree in aeronautical engineering. Armstrong later earned a Master’s of Science in aerospace engineering from the University of Southern California.