Neil Armstrong: A Life of Flight

by Jay Barbree

  The mission plan called for Apollo 8 to follow the first Apollo crewed mission into Earth orbit, and that flight, dubbed Apollo 7, was on the calendar for October—less than seven months away.

  Fourteen months had passed since the Apollo 1 fire and Apollo 7’s scheduled launch seemed promising. Neil took stock of the fact that half a billion dollars had been spent on the exhaustive redesign and rebuilding of Apollo, including a new hatch that an astronaut could open in three seconds flat. The new spacecraft included extensive use of fire-resistant materials, a redesigned electrical system, better protection for plumbing lines, and use of a combination nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere system when the spaceship was on the ground.

  Neil was aware that what happened to Apollo could also happen to the lunar module, a fact not lost on its builder Grumman Aircraft. The Grumman team made extensive changes to that vehicle, too, and although Neil didn’t know it at the time, Grumman was building the only space vehicle that would carry humans without ever suffering a failure. It would in fact be the lifeboat that would later save the three Apollo 13 astronauts.

  The Grumman team quickly earned the respect of the industry and Neil, remembering his friend Gus Grissom, who hung a lemon on the Apollo 1 simulator, spoke often about the efforts before assemblages.

  Neil would say, “I’m convinced we would have ended up losing more lives in a number of ways before we got to the moon, and we may never have gotten there if it hadn’t been for Apollo 1. We uncovered a whole barrel of snakes. We would have fixed them one by one. The fire forced us to shut the program down and redo it right, and we got there on the backs of Gus, Ed, and Roger.”

  * * *

  On October 11, 1968, the Saturn 1B rocket thundered from its launchpad and boosted Apollo 7 and its crew of three into orbit.

  Halfway through powered flight Commander Wally Schirra keyed his microphone and told Mission Control, “She’s riding like a dream.”

  From launchpad 34, where Gus Grissom, Ed White, and Roger Chaffee died, their backups Wally Schirra, Walter Cunningham, and Donn Eisele leave for Apollo’s first flight. (NASA)

  Apollo 7’s Schirra, Walter Cunningham, and Donn Eisele spent eleven days in space. They tested the new Apollo systems, conducted experiments, and beamed the first extensive live television scenes from space to fascinate audiences around the world while proving the new Apollo would work in space longer than needed for a flight to the moon and back.

  The Apollo 7 astronauts gave us this extraordinary picture of sunrise over Cape Canaveral and the peninsula of Florida. Some say it was the gods’ memorial for the fallen Apollo 1 crew. (NASA)

  * * *

  America was back on the road to the lunar surface, but Russia wasn’t standing still. America had its super booster the Saturn V. Russia had its super booster N-1. Saturn V was on schedule; N-1 was beset with failure.

  America’s intelligence assets were keeping a close watch on the Russians and Neil had friends in those assets. He was one of the first to be told when the Russians prepared a squadron of their smaller R-7 rockets. They were to launch a fleet of tankers into Earth orbit. Cosmonauts would follow and gather the tankers and herd them into a single train of one of the all-new Soyuz spacecraft and five fueled cars. This train would chug its way to lunar orbit, beating Americans to the moon.

  Russia’s Zond spacecraft on its flight around the moon. (Artist image, Russian Federal Space Agency)

  Then Vladimir Komarov died in Soyuz 1, delaying Soviet plans.

  The Russians regrouped. They began modifying the Soyuz spacecraft so it could carry one or two cosmonauts on a single pass around the moon. Not a landing. But in the eyes of most nations they would have indeed beaten the Americans to the moon and then gone on to other projects such as building a space station, saying, “We could’ve landed if we’d wanted.”

  The Russians called their modified lunar ship Zond, and they loaded it with tortoises, flies, and worms, and in November 1968, they sent the living creatures on a flight around the moon and brought them all back alive.

  Neil and his friends in intelligence believed this flight was Russia’s dress rehearsal for history’s first trip by a cosmonaut around the moon and back. NASA did, too.

  Sitting atop its mammoth Saturn V rocket, Apollo 8 is rolled out of its giant assembly hangar for its three-and-a-half-mile, snail-pace journey to its launchpad. (NASA)

  FOURTEEN

  HELLO MOON

  A Thor-Agena rose from California’s Vandenberg Air Force Base carrying another photoreconnaissance spy on its mission of keeping watch on what was happening at Russia’s launch site. Come the following morning, analysts were looking at another Soviet heavy-lift proton rocket sitting on its launchpad. It was waiting to be outfitted with a Zond spacecraft.

  Time was critical.

  As they had done with the Zond loaded with tortoises, flies, and worms, the Russians were now in a position to dispatch a single cosmonaut on a circumlunar flight in December or January.

  NASA’s top executives were in a quandary. They saw failure before them. NASA administrator Jim Webb told President Lyndon Johnson it was time for America to gamble, to consider putting astronauts on the Saturn V rocket’s first manned flight, and send them all the way to the moon aboard Apollo 8.

  Some experts scoffed at the plan. Most argued for it, and Webb told the outgoing president that it was the consensus of NASA engineers that they had corrected the Saturn V’s minor problems and there was no need for an additional unmanned test. It was time to fly.

  America wasted time with a test of the Redstone that proved to be useless, which permitted Yuri Gagarin to beat Alan Shepard into space. Deke Slayton and NASA’s astronauts weren’t about to see a repeat of that little dog and pony show. The lunar module would not be ready for its first flight test for four or five months, but they had a perfectly good Apollo, and Deke turned to Apollo 8 Commander Frank Borman, later saying, “The sonofabitch almost turned handsprings when I told him there was a possibility Apollo 8 would go all the way to the moon.”

  Deke laughed. “Borman’s answer was an overwhelming yes,” and then Deke told Apollo 8’s backup commander, Neil Armstrong.

  Neil assured the boss that with the success of Apollo 7 the idea of sending Apollo 8 to the moon was a masterful stroke of genius. He had been talking to his friends in intelligence and Neil told Deke, “We should not only go, we should put Apollo 8 in orbit around the moon, too. This would kill their plans to fly circumlunar.”

  Deke nodded. He liked Neil’s advice.

  * * *

  Every second of time was essential. On November 11, 1968, the new NASA administrator, Thomas Paine, approved the plan. He phoned his decision to the White House, and President Johnson gave his blessing. It was the single greatest gamble in spaceflight then, and since.

  Apollo 8 was readied for launch December 21, 1968, and Neil awoke with the prime crew. Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and Bill Anders began suiting up as Neil hustled over to the launchpad and climbed aboard the moon-bound spacecraft. It was the job of the backup commander to monitor the prelaunch sequence from inside the cockpit. He was there to check and set all switches.

  When the suited prime crew arrived in the white room, Neil shook their hands and retreated to the Launch Control Center where he joined his backup crew, Buzz Aldrin and Fred Haise. The three staked out great viewing spots along the big window facing the pad and turned their ears to the speakers and the voice of launch commentator Jack King.

  “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six,” and the Saturn V was alive.

  But it didn’t go anywhere. Neil knew the giant rocket consisted of millions of parts and systems. The Launch Control Center’s computers worked at the speed of light checking and rechecking every single part before the most powerful machine ever would be permitted to move.

  But its sound didn’t stay put.

  Its thunderous roar came to life with Saturn V’s ignition and tore its way across the space center, hammering everything in i
ts way. The wide launch control building was no exception.

  The tsunami of thunder slammed into the nerve center’s windows, buckling the big one in front of Neil and crew, who for a moment thought they’d bought it. They thought all glass had shattered and they stepped back as newly built ceiling parts fell along with other construction leftovers.

  Those in Launch Control thought the sky was falling. (NASA)

  But the windows held and Neil could easily see the Saturn V’s powerful engines were burning even fiercer, demanding they be unleashed, and Jack King reported, “All engines running … Three, two, one, zero!”

  And then it happened. Explosive bolts fired and the Saturn V’s giant hold-down arms released their grip.

  “We have liftoff, liftoff of Apollo 8—destination, moon.”

  Neither Neil nor any among the huge assemblage surrounding the launchpad could take their eyes off the enormity of it all: Saturn V moved. That largest of machines ever created reached for sky, rode on flame and roared, pounded ears, overwhelmed all those watching, slammed crackling thunder into their bodies, fluttered their clothes, rolled their flesh in small yet perfect patterns, and rattled the coins in their pockets. Neil Armstrong suddenly knew he couldn’t wait for the day he’d be riding that beautiful son of a bitch.

  Apollo 8 heads for the moon. (NASA)

  The 600,000 who had gathered on and around the spaceport braced for the Saturn V’s fury. (NASA)

  Birds fled from their roosts. Wildlife ran from the stunning and numbing sound. It pounded and leapt and trampled until it was no longer thunder, no longer roar. It turned into a series of staccato explosions and now it hurt. It brought a terrible crackling pain to the ears, assaulted the body, yet it was exhilarating and worth the beating as the great assemblage stared into the blinding mass of fire.

  Higher and higher Apollo 8 climbed, leaving its ear-shattering sound behind as it reached for orbit on a spear of flame more than 800 feet in length. The mass of spectators could only stare deeply into its flaming thrust, watch it turn into a rich orange, watch as red appeared along its burning edges, and each sought a final last sighting as the pounding chariot drawn by thrust and driven by fire disappeared over the Atlantic and Neil Armstrong knew that if one could love a machine he loved this one.

  Apollo 8’s Saturn V sends birds and wildlife fleeing. (NASA)

  * * *

  On board Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and Bill Anders had just pushed through the region of maximum dynamic pressure, their spaceship leaving all sound behind. It was eerily quiet now. Had the astronauts not heard the humming of electronics, they might have thought they were in a simulator on the ground.

  But they sure as hell weren’t.

  Apollo 8’s astronauts leaving for the moon. (NASA)

  Something was slamming their growing weight back into their seats, hauling them faster and faster into space, and it was all working. By the time they neared the speed needed to orbit Earth they had burned and discarded the rocket’s first and second stages. Now all they needed was a push from its S4B third stage to begin circling Earth, which they got, and Mission Control began checking and rechecking all of Apollo 8’s systems again. They had to be as sure as possible it had survived the rigors of launch and its ride into orbit and all would be well for the farthest and the longest journey ever taken by humans.

  The checks and tests lasted for nearly two Earth orbits. Apollo 8 was set. The crew then fired the S4B stage again.

  The final burst of energy from their Saturn V’s final stage increased the astronauts speed more than 7,000 miles per hour. The rocket burn was what space navigators called translunar insertion, and Apollo 8’s new speed of more than 24,000 miles per hour broke the grip of Earth’s gravity. The spaceship with a crew of three was free to cross the void to the moon. Shortly thereafter Jim Lovell sent a message back to Mission Control. “Tell Conrad he lost his record.”

  Pete Conrad and Dick Gordon had reached a height of 739 nautical miles in their agile Gemini 11 spacecraft. But Apollo 8 was still climbing and when it was done the new record would be some 240,000 miles.

  * * *

  Inside Launch Control Neil had monitored every happening on board the moon-bound ship. But now it was time for him and the backup crew to get moving—back to Mission Control to witness Apollo 8 become the first manned spacecraft to enter an orbit around the moon. He and Buzz and Fred with their wives boarded a NASA Gulfstream aircraft for the flight back to Houston. When home Neil showered, changed his clothes, and then drove to Mission Control to stand by if needed.

  He was there in his capacity as Apollo 8’s backup commander. If any of the flight controllers needed to know what the crew was scheduled to be doing at any given moment, he was their man. Otherwise he took a stay-out-of-the-way seat in the big room full of consoles.

  Deke Slayton saw Neil and thought this would be a good time to talk about his next assignment. He came over and pulled up a chair.

  “Got a minute, Neil?”

  “Sure, Boss, anytime.”

  “Been thinking about your next assignment.”

  “That’s great.”

  “There’s lots of ifs, ands, and buts,” Deke said flatly, “but we’re thinking about you commanding Apollo 11.”

  “That wouldn’t make me mad,” Neil grinned.

  Deke leaned forward and in an almost whisper explained there was no way of knowing what Apollo 11’s mission would be. But, if Apollo 8’s current flight to orbit the moon was a success, if the lunar module could pass muster in its Earth-orbital first flight with Apollo 9, and if Apollo 10 could return to lunar orbit and its lunar module could descend to within 8.4 miles of the moon, then Apollo 11 could be the first to land.

  Neil wasn’t easily stunned, but he was for a long moment. He just looked at the director of flight crew operations and processed everything he had been told. “Thanks Deke, thanks for your confidence,” he said offering him his hand. “If you decide to trust me with Apollo 11, you’ll get my best effort.”

  “I know we will, Neil,” he assured him, adding, “It’s shaking out that way.”

  * * *

  Deke walked away and Neil reflected on the stunning possibility his crew just might be the first to set foot on a place other than Earth. But certainly not lost on Neil, despite what he’d just been told, was the fact that the marvelous product of science, technology, and engineering that would take him and his crew there was at this very moment moving between Earth and the moon—the Block II Apollo command module created from the ashes of Apollo 1. It was crammed with the knowledge learned from NASA’s astounding misjudgment.

  The three astronauts riding within the cone-shaped, tiny world of their vessel were doing so under the watchful eyes of the largest audience in history. More than a billion were tuned to their radios and televisions receiving reports of sights never before seen.

  For the first time humans were seeing the Earth as an almost full sphere. (NASA)

  Live views from a receding Earth came into homes from the spaceship, and its crew played tour guide.

  * * *

  Meanwhile on the steppes of Kazakhstan Zond was left standing on its launchpad. Disappointment replaced the usual holiday round of vodka and cognac toasts.

  Lev Kamanin, top aide to Kremlin space officials and the son of the chief of cosmonaut training, wrote in his diary: “For us this day is darkened with the realization of lost opportunities and with sadness that today the men flying to the moon are named Borman, Lovell, and Anders, and not Bykovsky, Popovich, or Leonov.”

  No matter how well he said it, Kamanin’s sentiment was not the end of Russian efforts to reach the moon. Despite failures with their big rockets, the cosmonauts would continue to try.

  * * *

  The hours in Apollo 8’s flight clicked away—day one and now day two—but not the awe and wonder. Armstrong knew the astronauts were fascinated, unable to take their eyes off of what was out there. Suddenly they were aware of a distant sphere easing
into view—a stunning view of Earth. Not vast horizons curving gently away, but a more than half-full Earth—a blue marble with dominating blue seas and white clouds, bountiful rain forests and mountains rising above its surface.

  From midway between their home and the moon, Earth appeared to them as perfectly round, a stunning sphere, and Apollo 8 rolled on with Earth sliding silently out of sight leaving the astronauts a universe that was for the first time on their trip totally dark. No more Earthglow, no more moonglow—even the sun had hidden itself—and Borman, Lovell, and Anders had the most clear, the most distinct view possible, of their own Milky Way and hundreds more galaxies with their nebulas and star clusters, some so bright and far away.

  Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve. That Borman, Lovell, and Anders were approaching the moon seemed impossible. They had left Earth riding America’s largest rocket, the mightiest energy machine ever built to lift straight up and away from the deep gravitational well of their planet, a monster of steel and ice and fire atop which no man had ever before flown. And they were risking everything to fly into orbit around Earth’s natural satellite.

  Apollo 8’s astronauts saw this stunning view of Earth with white clouds and dominating blue seas. (NASA)

  It was a gamble like few others known to history.

  * * *

  Apollo 8 slipped across the equigravisphere, that point in their flight where the moon’s gravity would have a greater pull than distant Earth. In Mission Control Neil and Deke Slayton grabbed some fresh coffee and lost themselves in one of the control center’s back rooms.

  “Mike Collins has recovered well from his neck operation,” Deke began, “How would you feel about having Collins and Buzz Aldrin as your crew?”

  “No problem,” Neil assured him. “I’ve been working these last months with Buzz on the backup crew for Apollo 8, and everything went well.”