Neil Armstrong: A Life of Flight

by Jay Barbree

  The Soviets settled in with plans to one-up the Americans again as NASA moved through the countdown for its first Gemini. Neil waited in his Hawaiian CapCom chair. He wanted to be ready to help Gus and John when they came his way.

  Gemini 3’s countdown followed its script. The new spacecraft raced into orbit and began the first of three scheduled trips around Earth. The flight plan called for the crew to wring out the all new two-seater—shakedown all its systems. Gus and John did just that. They tested every one of Gemini’s working parts including firing the first-ever group of onboard rocket thrusters. That changed their orbit. They flew maneuvers essential for going to the moon, for rendezvous, and for docking. They quickly came to the conclusion that flying the new two-seater was a delight.

  Then, when Gus and John reached Hawaii, they heard a friendly voice. “Molly Brown, this is Hawaii CapCom.”

  Commander Gus Grissom had changed Gemini 3’s name to the Unsinkable Molly Brown after his first spacecraft Liberty Bell 7 sank. He wasn’t about to have a repeat on this mission. He cleared his throat and fired back, “Hello, Hawaii, this is Molly Brown, and Neil you’re not going to believe how this baby handles. It flies just right.”

  “That’s great, Gus. I can’t wait until I get my turn,” he said, before going into all the numbers and fuel levels they needed to keep their flight going. Then Neil told them, “Everything looks good on the ground. We’ll see you next time around. Aloha.”

  “Aloha, Neil.” Gus waved and Gemini 3 swept across the Pacific, heading for its pass over the 48 contiguous states.

  Gemini 3’s maneuvers were bringing the moon just a bit closer, and when Gus and John reached Hawaii again, they would execute a final test-firing of their new spacecraft’s rockets before setting up for reentry and splashdown.

  But first Gemini 3 had to complete its last trip around Earth. It raced across the other side of the world, down below sweeping over Australia before beginning its climb across the Pacific, taking dead aim for its final Hawaiian pass. Gus and John smiled when they heard the crackle of an incoming transmission. “Hello, Molly Brown. Hawaii CapCom.”

  “Hawaii, Molly Brown. All ready to burn,” Gus told Neil, meaning the final firing of their maneuvering rockets was ready.

  “Roger,” Neil acknowledged. “We’re right on. Hawaii has radar contact. Give us a start when you burn.”

  “Getting ready to fire,” Gus came back. “Mark.”

  “We’ve got your start of the burn,” Neil told him.

  “That’s good,” Gus said, reporting, “There’s 90, 70, 60, 50, 40, that’s 20—10 percent to go.”

  Gus Grissom and Neil Armstrong logging time in the Gemini simulator. (NASA)

  “Hawaii command carrier off.”

  “Mark,” Gus shouted. “End of burn.”

  “Good show,” Neil shouted. “You looked good on the ground,” he added quickly as Gus and John flew away and headed for a perfect reentry and landing.

  * * *

  With the success of Gemini’s maiden launch, NASA tightened its schedule and kicked Project Gemini into high gear.

  Deke Slayton told Gemini 4 commander Jim McDivitt his crewmate Ed White would perform America’s first full EVA. Ed and Jim went off with the experts and developed a plan.

  Six weeks later, Gemini 4, the new Houston Mission Control Center’s first flight, roared into orbit. On its fourth trip around Earth, Ed White opened his hatch and stepped out into his own orbit.

  Neil, back in Houston, didn’t want to miss a single second of Ed White and Jim McDivitt’s four days in space. He didn’t. He could see easily what was happening when Ed stepped outside over the blue Pacific gripping a handheld gun armed with pressurized oxygen. It fired in timed spurts; a steering jet that pushed him in the direction he sought and stopped his movement when needed.

  Neil immediately knew the fun Ed was having and he couldn’t get over the incredible view beneath his spacewalking friend.

  Ed White appears to float on a mattress of puffy clouds. (NASA)

  Ed White was beginning to understand his inability to move his own body when suddenly he was startled. The strangest satellite yet launched floated before him. It was a thermal glove he had left on his seat. It drifted up and away and began its own orbit, and Ed scolded himself with one word: “careless.”

  Then, not at all aware the twelve minutes planned for his outside adventure had quickly passed, it was time to reenter Gemini 4. He was running out of daylight, but he was having too much fun.

  Gus Grissom was CapCom in the new Mission Control Center 27 miles southeast of Houston, and he knew the euphoria White was showing was akin to the dangerous “raptures of the deep.”

  Grissom, in the veteran Mercury astronaut’s deep command voice, told the frolicking spacewalker, “Gemini 4, get back in.” Neither Grissom nor White was aware of how their fates were so intertwined.

  Ed White’s crewmate and commander Jim McDivitt repeated the order: “They want you to get back in now.”

  The fun-loving spacewalker still hesitated. “What does the flight director say?” he asked.

  “The flight director says get back in,” barked Chris Kraft.

  “This is fun! I don’t want to come back in,” White laughed, performing one more somersault before telling Mission Control, “Okay, I’m coming in.”

  Ed reluctantly began his return to Gemini 4 but quickly discovered just to move his body even one inch from its independent orbit without help wasn’t at all easy. He needed an assist. He needed a jet backpack or a line to pull. Otherwise he’d simply drain his energy and his body would begin to overheat.

  Ed White made it back in but he’d just discovered a major difficulty that would confound future spacewalkers.

  * * *

  Gemini 4 returned after four days of orbiting Earth, and that August, Gemini 5, with Gordon Cooper and Pete Conrad, doubled 4’s record by spending eight days in space. Their backups Neil Armstrong and Elliot See were at the Cape for 5’s launch, and immediately left for a quick flight in their T-38 to Houston’s Mission Control.

  Armstrong and See spent Gemini 5’s eight days in Mission Control in the comfort of air-conditioning, hot food, and ready refreshments while Cooper and Conrad spent those same eight days inside their slightly-larger-than-a-phone-booth spacecraft. They proved humans could function long enough in space to fly to the moon and back, and when the Gemini 5 astronauts returned, newspapers ran a cartoon of them holding hands on the recovery ship’s deck with the caption: “We’re engaged.”

  Gemini 5 was one of those fun flights and three weeks after its splashdown Deke Slayton made it official: He cornered Neil Armstrong and told him he would command Gemini 8.

  Neil nodded, smiling.

  Deke then told him his crew member would be Dave Scott, a West Point graduate and the first member of the third group of astronauts to fly.

  Deke got no argument from Neil as the next group of astronauts, a small assemblage of six scientists, were named; Owen Garriott, Edward Gibson, Duane Graveline, Joseph Kerwin, Curt Michel, and Harrison Schmitt. Schmitt would become the only scientist to reach the moon.

  * * *

  Astronauts Frank Borman and James Lovell bettered Gemini 5’s record by spending two weeks inside Gemini 7’s cramped quarters, and Lovell would later say, “It was like spending two weeks in a men’s room.”

  The monotony of Borman and Lovell’s marathon mission was broken on day eleven by visitors from Earth.

  Wally Schirra and Tom Stafford were flying Gemini 6. They rode their two-seater right up to Gemini 7 and put on the brakes. They thought they would stay for a while and Schirra and Stafford began “station keeping” with Borman and Lovell. It was the first rendezvous in space.

  Gemini 6 and Gemini 7 meet in space. (NASA)

  “We’ve got company,” Lovell reported.

  “There’s a lot of traffic up here,” Schirra quipped.

  “Call a traffic cop,” Borman laughed.

 
American astronauts had used the Gemini spacecraft’s rockets to perform a meaningful first and the two Gemini ships together orbited Earth in formation, doing fly-arounds and circling each other in a series of figure eights. Wally Schirra told Mission Control he closed to a distance of six to eight inches, backed off, and flew in again.

  Schirra was the only member of the Mercury Seven “pranksters” in the group, and when he flew his Gemini 6 away from Gemini 7, he and Tom Stafford shook up Mission Control when Stafford reported he had seen a UFO.

  Neil tries on his Gemini 8 commander’s spacesuit. It fits. (NASA)

  It was only days before Christmas and when startled flight controllers questioned Stafford about the Unidentified Flying Object he had reported, his answer was calm in his casual Oklahoma monotone: “Well, it appears to me, Houston,” he began explaining as Schirra was heard in the background playing “Jingle Bells” on his harmonica, “it’s some sort of a sleigh. It’s coming down from the North Pole with a jolly old man dressed in a red suit driving a bunch of reindeer. He seems to be headed your way, Houston. Better tell all the children old Saint Nick is on his way.”

  This broadcast reporter took the Gemini 6 “Jingle Bell’s” UFO tape and did a full Christmas Eve report on all NBC networks as America enjoyed the holidays. With the rendezvous of the two spaceships, another milestone had been reached in the country’s road to the moon. But no one had docked ships in space. That little job was still out there. It now fell to Neil Armstrong and Dave Scott.

  The Gemini 8 crew took a couple of days off, and ate a little Christmas dinner before getting back to their 24-7 training.

  * * *

  The rendezvous between Gemini 6 and 7 had not been in NASA’s original plans. Schirra and Stafford were originally to have chased down and docked with an unmanned Agena rocket. But the Agena blew up on its way to orbit, and agency officials came up with the ingenious plan to launch Gemini 7’s two-week mission first, and then send Gemini 6 in pursuit.

  Now the next step was up to Neil Armstrong and Dave Scott. They loved the challenge. They spent a great portion of their training hours in the docking simulator and Neil felt the simulator was a good representation of what they could expect.

  “Dave and I thought of our mission as being an absolutely super flight with great objectives,” he said. “And with Dave Scott in the right seat,” he added, “I believed we wouldn’t have any trouble.”

  Neil could not have been more pleased with his crewmate. He’d known Dave at Edwards, but not well. He had come to know him better in Houston and found him very likeable and good at what he did.

  “Dave was diligent and he was hard working,” Neil said. “I felt confident in his ability to handle his part of the responsibilities, and another plus, I had spent much time learning about the Gemini spacecraft as backup commander for Gemini 5.

  “The differences were those things that were simply different,” Armstrong added with a smile. They were going to rendezvous and dock with a “live” Agena rocket and Dave Scott had an extravehicular backpack in the back of the spacecraft for a longer spacewalk than Ed White made, and they had more experiments.

  The Gemini 8 crew had their training in the bank by tax day. They were confident they were ready.

  Dave Scott and Neil Armstrong stand by to board Gemini 8 as they laugh at pad leader Guenter Wendt’s latest joke. (NASA)

  NINE

  GEMINI EIGHT

  Neil Armstrong and Dave Scott went over the seals of the Gemini 8’s hatches at 8:38 A.M. eastern time March 16, 1966.

  Their cramped two-seater spacecraft would be their home for the next three days so they got busy hooking themselves up to health monitors and opening communications with Mission Control while making sure everything they needed was on board. They would be sleeping in their suits in their seats. No shower; only wet towels. They double-checked to make sure they at least had their toothbrushes.

  At the same moment on the nearby Atlas/Agena pad, the countdown for launching their target rocket was going well. They were told they would be able to see the Atlas/Agena lift off while back in Houston; outside Neil’s home Janet was busy circling the wagons.

  An assemblage of photographers, television crews, broadcasters, newspaper writers—all sorts of media members—had gathered and were playing the waiting game. They were hopeful Janet would emerge to talk with them, tell them how she felt, what her emotions were. Were they everything from pride to fear … fear that Neil might be killed?

  This wasn’t Janet Armstrong’s first rodeo. She’d waited before when Neil had flown the X-15, when he had flown crucial tests in high-speed jets. And now she was waiting again, telling herself this is what she’d signed up for. This was the role of a test pilot’s wife and she had freely chosen this role, and she would do what was expected of her.

  She would stay inside their home and wait for the launch, dealing privately with her own nervousness. She and their boys Rick and Mark would watch television and listen to the NASA squawk box. The agency had installed it for her so they could hear and cheer every word between Mission Control and their husband and father.

  Knowing his family was secure for his and Dave’s three-day flight without having to fight the crowds and the media at the launch site put Neil at ease. But his mom, dad, sister, brother, and other family members were another thing. They were at the moment riding a family bus along with some of Dave’s family and relatives and they were singing and very excited. They were headed to family bleachers to view the launch when suddenly they were startled.

  It was 10:00 A.M. eastern time and the Atlas/Agena rocket rose from its launchpad on what seemed to be a never-ending column of fire, and the driver quickly stopped the bus.

  Cheering broke out as some leapt through the bus door. They shouted loudly, willing the Gemini 8’s target rocket on to success.

  They watched with fingers crossed until the Atlas/Agena’s fiery contrail became only a pinpoint of light in the Florida sky.

  NASA commentator Paul Haney in Mission Control reported, “When Neil Armstrong heard that the Agena had ignited and was performing well, he was told, ‘It looks like we have a live one up there for you.’

  “Neil came back with, ‘Good show.’”

  * * *

  In their seats, Neil and Dave were ready. Their target for rendezvous and docking was now in an orbit 161 by 156 nautical miles, as close to a circular orbit as they could hope for with an unmanned vehicle.

  Gemini 8’s Atlas/Agena target rocket launches. (NASA)

  “Beautiful, we’ll take that one,” Neil told Dave.

  “You betcha,” his partner agreed.

  With the Atlas/Agena launching on time their mission had a great start. Now if we can only be as precise with our launch, Neil reasoned, it would mean we could fly our mission the way we had practiced it in the simulator.

  So far the wee ones were smiling and the countdown was on a track not to disappoint.

  There had been only one minor problem. Some epoxy had glued shut one of Dave’s harness mechanisms and Neil had called in John Wayne and the cavalry. Astronaut Pete Conrad, his backup, and pad leader Guenter Wendt came to the white room and rubbed and cleaned the mechanism until they got the catch unglued. From then on, the countdown had been smooth sailing with the crew checking the positions of all the switches on their consoles, constantly reporting their spacecraft’s condition to Mission Control, static testing their Gemini’s thruster rockets, and assuring the flight surgeons they, too, were ready.

  In their seats and ready. Dave and Neil are strapped in to fly. (NASA)

  Suddenly they found themselves in a 5-minute, 54-second hold at T-minus three minutes. This delay in their countdown was to bring their orbital insertion in line with their Agena target.

  They were almost there and Neil instinctively checked his harness once more as he heard the launch director say, “We are resuming the count; T-minus three minutes and counting.”

  Neil lay back and locked
his spurs into the bottom of his seat. He and Dave listened to launch controllers from one console to the other declaring they were “Go!”

  “Ignition is at 40 minutes and 59 seconds past the hour,” CapCom Jim Lovell told them, and Neil felt the Titan II coming alive through subtle groans and creaks. Fluids were shifting. Pressures were increasing. Pumps were being tested. The ten-story-tall rocket beneath was making itself ready to push Gemini 8 into orbit at speeds greater than 17,000 miles per hour.

  “This is the launch director. We have a clearance for launch at T-minus one minute and forty-seven seconds and counting.”

  Neil shot a look at Dave. He was grinning.

  * * *

  Inside the Armstrong household, family and friends stared at a television image of the rocket with Gemini 8, and hugged their NASA squawk box listening intently to NASA commentator Jack King in launch control:

  Now coming up on T-minus 90 seconds, mark T-minus 90 seconds and counting. All systems looking good during this final phase of the countdown, and at zero, the two engines will ignite and build up some 430,000 pounds of thrust just prior to liftoff. Once the vehicle builds up 77 percent of this thrust we’ll get a go for liftoff. This will occur some four seconds after ignition.…

  Now T-minus one minute and counting as we go through our final checks; T-minus 50 seconds and counting, if all goes well Gemini 8 will be inserted into orbit some 1,015 nautical miles behind the Agena; T-minus 40 seconds and counting …

  In the blockhouse the crew is reporting as they monitor the various activities over the final phase. Now T-minus 30 seconds and counting; T-minus 20 seconds and counting …

  15 …

  5, 4, 3, 2, 1, we have ignition.