by Jay Barbree
Tom Stafford and Gene Cernan are happy to see their command ship Charlie Brown. (NASA)
John Young, at the controls of the command module Charlie Brown, watches as the lunar module Snoopy pulls up and parks. (NASA)
* * *
Back on Earth, the two who would be on the moon, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, along with their command module master Mike Collins, moved into final training. Despite the odds makers in Las Vegas, the success of Apollo 10 meant all but one of the “ifs” had been blown away. Only landing remained. Apollo 11’s crew couldn’t wait to get its hands on what Tom, John, and Gene had learned.
In the coming days Neil, Mike, and Buzz grew exceedingly pleased with the superb job the Apollo 10 astronauts had done. They had flown almost precisely the same track over the lunar landscape that Apollo 11 needed, and had taken very detailed pictures of the descent and landing areas all the way down to the time of engine ignition, the time Neil and Buzz would begin their powered descent.
“Ten’s photographs were so useful we could commit to memory the major landmarks for our descent to the surface,” Neil told me. “We could crosscheck every location. We should be able to make sure we were flying the planned track,” he continued. “If we weren’t, I could take over and I felt pretty good about flying Eagle to a safe landing site.”
Snoopy moves in on Charlie Brown. Soon they will be hugging. (NASA)
I could tell there was no longer a question in Neil’s mind. The success of Apollo 10 simply meant Apollo 11 would be making the first attempt to land on the moon. The remaining question was when?
Deke Slayton huddled with NASA’s top brass and then called Neil into his office. He stared at a man whose opinion he respected. He asked, “Are you ready?”
Neil was not a man to show overconfidence. But he couldn’t help it this time. “Yes.”
“That’s your assessment?”
“You know you could always use more training, Deke, but we’re there,” Neil said flatly. “We should be ready for the July window.”
Each month the Earth-Moon system rotated into position for the shortest flight between the two—a window of opportunity for the most desirable time to fly—and Deke Slayton gathered with NASA’s top decision-makers again, telling them he had talked to Neil, and Neil said they’ll be ready in July.
Tom, John, and Gene locked the route pioneered by Apollo 8 into Apollo 10’s computers and headed home. (NASA)
NASA announced on June 11, 1969, that the Apollo 11 astronauts had received the go-ahead for a launch attempt July 16, with the first historic landing scheduled for Sunday afternoon, July 20.
* * *
Nine hundred miles north northeast of NASA’s Manned Spacecraft Center, in Wapakoneta, Ohio, Viola Armstrong, Neil’s mother, was doing housework when her radio reported, “Neil Armstrong and his Apollo 11 crew has been given the go-ahead to attempt the first historic landing on the moon in July. The announcement was made…”
Tears suddenly filled Viola’s eyes as she sank to her knees shutting out the radio’s voice. She had long ago, even as a young teenager, given her life to Jesus Christ, and prayer for her was a daily practice. Suddenly hearing the announcement with her own ears, she was praying—praying as earnestly as she had ever prayed before that God would ride with her son, would protect those three young men all the way to the moon and back, and once she had fully asked the Lord for His protection and she was satisfied Neil’s trip to the moon was God’s will she climbed from her knees and called Steve, Neil’s father.
She had never before been more proud.
* * *
While his mother went about reporting the news to family and friends, Neil was bracing himself to face the media.
NASA’s policy was for each crew to hold a news conference approximately a month before launch and then sit for one-on-one interviews with the radio and television networks, the wire services, and the major papers like The New York Times.
Neil hated every moment of it. He simply wished reporters would let him direct his efforts at doing a safe and thorough job. The reporters who were Neil’s friends knew the rules, and we lived by them. If you’d like his opinion the conversation was off the record, giving him the opportunity to consider your question freely. Then, if Neil told you something you considered news you asked permission to use it. Generally he gave his permission or gave you a reason why he couldn’t.
NASA wanted to parade their astronauts before the public who was paying the bills, and reaching for the moon was a big bill. Neil knew he was riding on the taxpayer’s dollar and, what the hell, he tightened his jaw and went along with the “dog and pony show.”
First, Neil was asked, “Can you think of anything in which you aren’t prepared?”
“The unexpected,” he said confidently. “You’ve got to expect some things are going to go wrong, and we always need to prepare ourselves for handling the unexpected. We just hope those unexpected things aren’t something that we can’t cope with.”
Another question was, “Will you take personal mementos to the moon?”
“If I had a choice, I would take more fuel,” Neil answered with his one-of-a-kind grin.
“Will you get to keep a piece of the moon for yourselves?” another asked.
“At this time, no plans have been made.”
The pattern of the news conference took shape in the form of quick questions with quick responses and Neil was feeling pretty good until he was cornered with the question: “Why should we spend the money to go to the moon?”
Neil shifted in his seat, and then looked directly at the reporter. “I think we’re going to the moon,” he said firmly, “because it’s in the nature of the human being to face challenges. It’s by the nature of his deep inner soul. We’re required to do these things just as salmon swim upstream.”
Neil and Buzz and Mike made it through the media’s gauntlet and soon training was over and Apollo 11’s astronauts were packing lots of underwear. They had a trip to make with NASA furnishing flight coveralls and million-dollar spacesuits with special boots and gloves. Underwear and socks were just about all they needed along with a toothbrush or two.
Before leaving for the moon, Neil took care of more important things, such as wiping tears and caring for a cut on son Mark’s small finger. (NASA)
SEVENTEEN
THE LAUNCH
Apollo 11’s astronauts spent July fourth with their families before flying to the Cape. They were already in their 21-day, prelaunch quarantine to make sure they weren’t exposed to some showstopping germ when their bosses strolled in wearing hospital masks.
The man with the most experience in spaceflight, Chris Kraft, asked, “Have we missed anything, Neil?”
“Nothing, Chris,” Neil answered. “It’s all been done. All that’s left is the countdown.” Kraft appreciated the confidence, and he agreed with Neil. If there was anything that hadn’t been done, not a member of the launch team could say what it was. Kraft knew the equipment was ready. He knew the ground crews, the flight controllers—yes, the astronauts were … Apollo 11 was the most ready mission ever. He just wanted to make sure Neil didn’t know something he didn’t.
The Apollo 11-Saturn V stack loomed awesomely before sunrise. (NASA)
Then Apollo Director George Low had a question. “When you step off the ladder have you thought about what you’re going to say, Neil?”
Neil took a measured, thoughtful moment. He was being questioned by the big boss and tact was demanded. The truth was he did have something to say in mind. It was also true he had not made a final decision. Neil had run it by his brother Dean and a couple of others close to him, and he told the big boss, “Sure, George, I’ve been thinking about it,” adding a smile and quickly changing the subject. “Please tell all the hands that touched Apollo 11, all who worked so hard and for long hours, we appreciate it. This is their launch. Tell them they’ll be riding with us all the way.”
* * *
Three days befor
e heading to the moon Neil had only a glimpse of the crowd gathering on the beaches and roadways, congregating in any place that brought them within eyesight or earshot of America’s spaceport. A site with a clear view of Apollo 11’s launchpad was premium. There wasn’t a room for rent in central Florida. It had come down to private families renting sofas, cots, even hammocks to anyone who wanted or felt like they had to be there. Neil thought he understood but he felt it was a lot to endure to see them leave for the moon.
The crowd of a million that came to witness Neil, Mike, and Buzz head for the first-ever moon landing found it easier if they came in their own car, RV, or camper. They squatted on beaches, roadways, and water edges surrounding the moonport. (NASA)
On the morning of launch Neil and crew were told the crowd had swelled to more than a million. Some 1,000 police officers, sheriff deputies, state troopers, coast guard, and marine patrol were struggling to keep the masses orderly. These keepers of the law had an estimated 350,000 vehicles and boats moving on the roads and waterways. Helicopters ferried VIPs to reserved bleachers and choice locations. NASA had invited 20,000 in all including Vice President Spiro T. Agnew, half of congress, representatives from the largest and smallest countries; but it was such notables as movie stars Jimmy Stewart and Robert Redford, and aviation heroes Charles Lindbergh and Chuck Yeager, that brought Neil a warmth of feel-good.
There was no one he admired more than Lindbergh, and Neil was most appreciative the great aviator had come. He was also grateful for one particular boat choking the larger waterways that were filled with celebrities’ yachts and large cabin cruisers. On board one of the most luxurious vessels owned by North American Aviation, builders of the Apollo command and service modules, were his wife Janet and their sons Rick and Mark. Neil knew they were being well cared for as were his sister June and family, and his brother Dean and family, who were under NASA escort and secure within Florida’s largest recorded gathering.
In Wapakoneta, the streets were virtually empty. Its 6,700 residents sat before their televisions, and at 912 Neil Armstrong Drive, the home of Neil’s parents Viola and Steve, television networks had replaced their black-and-white set with the largest color television available.
Neil was happy his parents had attended his Gemini 8 launch. They had been here to witness Apollo 10’s liftoff, too. But with the size of the crowd for Apollo 11, he was pleased his parents were staying home. He would later learn a reporter counted overnight 233 cars driving by their house.
* * *
Despite the crowds and all the excitement, the morning for Neil, Mike, and Buzz was all about going to the moon. Their day had begun three-and-a-half hours before liftoff when suit techs had dressed them in their spacesuits and helmets. From that moment forward, Apollo 11’s astronauts would be breathing manufactured oxygen—no outside air—until they returned in eight days. And when Neil led them from their crew quarters to their transport van to take them to their launchpad, he felt he belonged. Somewhere deep inside Neil was a lifetime feeling that his destiny was to take a “Lindbergh” step in flight. At least he hoped it was.
On their ride to the pad Neil reminded himself it all could have unfolded differently. It could have been Alan Shepard, Gus Grissom, Pete Conrad, Jim Lovell, or some other astronauts. But it wasn’t. It was him and Mike and Buzz and he knew they had to get the job done. He glanced across the van at his two crewmates. He sensed they, too, had the same knowing. Like all their assignments before, they had gotten their jobs done, and going to the moon wasn’t about the crew anyway. It was about science. It was about advancing science, humans leaving their planet, leaving their cradles, following their destiny to explore and settle new places beyond Earth, advancing knowledge. Neil was satisfied.
A smiling Neil Armstrong leads the way from their crew quarters to the launchpad. (NASA)
He felt good about how everything had come down and when their transfer van reached their launchpad, he walked toward the elevator stopping before the lift that would take them to level 34. That’s where the spaceships they’d named Columbia and Eagle waited. Neil had promised his mother he would give thanks before they lifted off for the moon, and he did.
Even though their helmets quelled the background noise on the pad, there was almost an eerie silence for Neil’s moment of reflection, and he quickly recognized the silence was because of the absence of voices. During those times he’d been here for training, the launch stand and the service towers had swarmed with activity, workers in every direction doing what they needed to. Now the human beehive had almost disappeared. Saturn V was fueled. Most of the launchpad crew was gone; only those needed to load the crew and lock everything down remained. Before he started moving again toward the elevator Neil turned to acknowledge the man walking by his side.
Apollo 11 atop its Saturn V awaits its crew. (NASA)
Deke Slayton had ridden in the van with the crew to the pad and there would be no good-byes.
“Watch your asses and have a good trip,” he told them as he watched them enter the elevator.
Minutes later, the three space-suited figures appeared on the crosswalk to the white room encasing Apollo 11 and Neil stopped to stare down, giving Deke a final wave and taking a final look around before entering what would essentially be his home for the next eight days and 500,000 miles.
Deke did not deny that he wished he was going had it not been for doctors and heart irregularities, but it wasn’t to be. The boss was comforted knowing Neil and Buzz and Mike were going for all of them—all who loved the sweet science of flight—Russia’s cosmonauts, too, and Deke gave a good-bye thumbs-up.
* * *
On this morning of July 16, 1969, veteran NASA launch commentator Jack King was also ready to go to the moon. His voice from launch control boomed from speakers placed across the sprawling 180,000-acre facility and into every NASA location, the White House, and the worldwide radio and television networks.
Neil leads his crew across the 34-story-tall level to board Apollo 11. (NASA)
When King spoke the world listened:
After a breakfast of orange juice, steaks, scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee, the astronauts boarded Apollo 11 at 6:54 A.M. eastern time. Commander Neil Armstrong was the first aboard. He was followed by Mike Collins. Buzz Aldrin, the man who is sitting in the middle seat during liftoff, was the third aboard.
Three hundred running the countdown in Launch Control had everything moving on time. Hundreds more worked with them in Houston’s Mission Control while thousands were up for duty at tracking stations around the world, aboard tracking ships at sea and monitoring craft in the air.
Launch Control on guard for the slightest hint of a problem. (NASA)
This is Apollo/Saturn Launch Control. We are now less than 16 minutes away from the planned liftoff for the Apollo 11 space vehicle. All still going well …
* * *
Inside Apollo 11’s command ship the astronauts worked through their checklists, now fully separated from the outside world. Neil rested his left hand on the abort handle. With one twist the escape tower rocket would ignite and snatch them away to safety. For Neil aborting wasn’t a big concern. He felt they’d covered it all. He was the only member of the crew with a window until they ejected the escape tower during powered flight. Those who planned such things knew the commander needed a window to make sure they were headed for sky instead of ground.
The three of them were in great spirits. They were confident. The countdown was sailing smoothly down through arming the escape tower, and range safety remained “green all the way.” Even boaters and small aircraft were staying clear of the launch zone. Launch Control tested the systems for power transfer to the Saturn V. The lunar module Eagle was now alive on its own internal power.
This is Apollo/Saturn Launch Control. We’ve passed the 11-minute mark. All is still Go.
Ten minutes. Neil, Mike, and Buzz’s command ship, Columbia, was now on its own power. The massive crowd was silent. Only Jack King�
��s voice was to be heard and it was suddenly musical.
We’ve passed the six-minute mark in our countdown for Apollo 11. Now 5 minutes, 52 seconds and counting, and we’re on time at the present for our planned liftoff at 32 minutes past the hour.
The launch team armed the destruct system, and the access walkway leading to the astronauts swung back out of the way.
Again Neil Armstrong placed his gloved hand on the abort handle. With their walkway to the gantry gone, the crew’s only way to safety was to ride the instant thrust of Apollo 11’s escape rocket.
“T-minus three minutes ten seconds,” Jack King reported. “Apollo 11 is now on its automatic sequencer.”
The countdown was in the control of computers, and King said, “We’re Go. The target for the Apollo 11 astronauts, the moon, will be 218,096 miles away at liftoff.”
T-minus 50 seconds and Saturn V was on full internal power.
Neil Armstrong just reported back. It’s been a real smooth countdown.
Our transfer is completed on internal power with the launch vehicle. All the second-stage tanks now pressurized.
Fifteen seconds and counting. Astronauts report they feel good.
T-minus nine seconds.
Ignition sequence starts.
From atop his skyscraper of a rocket, Neil heard the enormous burst of ignition—thunder echoing throughout the Apollo nullifying his hearing as flames blasted downward. 28,000 gallons of water each second smashed into the curving flame buckets to absorb and cool the volcanic eruption of seven-and-a-half-millions-pounds of thrust.
From atop his skyscraper of a rocket, Neil hears and feels the burst of ignition. (NASA)
Once again Neil Armstrong locked his heels under his seat and held on.
