The Eagle Has Landed: The Story of Apollo 11

by Jeffrey Smith

  The Apollo 11 spacecraft spent 2.5 hours in a parking orbit, as the astronauts went through a series of checklists in preparation for the next leg of the trip. At this point, they were able to remove their helmets and gloves while working and acclimating to zero gravity. Each man moved his head slowly, in an effort to prevent vertigo.

  According to NASA medical records, 75.95 % of astronauts vomited upon entering weightlessness, as their vestibular systems adjusted to zero gravity. In a weightless environment, astronauts experienced significant redistribution of blood and other bodily fluids, leading to an increase in heart size, decrease in thirst, electrolyte changes, and increased urine output. The unfortunate ones developed acute urinary retention, necessitating self-catheterization.

  Two IBM computers, one in the CSM and the other in the lunar module, were primed to assist the crew, as they prepared to head to the Moon. Each computer was state of the art for the time, with 74 kilobytes of memory and a 2.048 MHz clock processer. With 19 keyboard buttons, the 70-pound Apollo guidance computer, housed in a 3 x 5 feet box, allowed the crew to measure velocity to 1/1000th of a foot per second, enabling them to make precise course corrections. The guidance system was necessary to make exact calculations concerning three moving bodies (Earth, Moon, and spacecraft), all of which influenced the CSM’s flight pattern. Instructions for computer programing were printed on plastic-coated, erasure-proof sheets, clipped to metal rings inside the capsule.

  After orbiting Earth 1.5 times, the Apollo 11 crew had completed their assigned duties—it was time head to the Moon.

  CHAPTER 8

  Like a chicken on a spit

  While orbiting Earth, command module pilot, Michael Collins, was responsible for charting Apollo 11’s path to the Moon. Using a telescope, sextant, and star chart, Collins entered data into the spacecraft’s guidance, navigation, and control systems computer. He successfully plotted a flight path by first aligning with Menkent (star number 30), and then Nunki (star number 37). In order to reach the Moon, navigational readings had to be precise. If Columbia exited the Earth’s orbit with an incorrect trajectory, the Apollo 11 crew would be launched into space forever.

  At 12:16 p.m., three hours after launch, the third stage of the Saturn V rocket fired for a second time. The 5.2-minute engine burn increased the spacecraft’s velocity to 24,300 miles per hour, propelling the Apollo 11 spacecraft out of its Earth orbit—an exacting maneuver, known as translunar injection.

  “Hey, Houston, Apollo 11. That Saturn gave us a magnificent ride,” Collins radioed Mission Control.

  “Roger, 11. We’ll pass that on. And, it certainly looks like you are well on your way now,” Cap Com replied.

  Thirty-three minutes after translunar injection, the CSM detached from the third stage Saturn booster, in preparation for docking with the lunar module. The LM was housed in the lunar adapter, atop the Saturn V booster, which Michael Collins likened to “a mechanical tarantula crouched in its hole.”

  Once the CSM separated from the remainder of the rocket, the four panels on the lunar adapter automatically detached and drifted away into space. Once the CSM was 75 feet distant from the Saturn booster, Collins turned the CSM completely around and maneuvered into docking position. Utilizing the CSM reaction control system, Collins carefully approached the lunar module. He inserted the probe located on the nose of the CSM into the drogue atop the LM, which automatically engaged three capture latches. The release of pressurized nitrogen gas caused the probe to retract and pull the lunar module into alignment with the CSM, engaging 12 mechanical latches, which held the two vehicles together in a vise grip.

  “That wasn’t the smoothest docking I’ve ever done,” Collins reported to Mission Control.

  “Well, it felt good from here,” a delighted Cap Com replied.

  After the docking maneuver was completed, the third stage Saturn booster was jettisoned into space, preventing it from the trailing the astronauts to the Moon. The CSM (Columbia) and LM (Eagle), with a combined weight of 98,000 pounds, were positioned for the three-day trip to the Moon.

  Outward bound, Apollo 11 raced through cislunar space at 35,579 feet per second. The gravitational forces of the Earth, Sun, and Moon guided the spacecraft toward its lunar destination. The CSM engines would be fired, as needed, to provide course corrections.

  The CSM slowly rotated on its axis at 3/10th of one degree per second during the trip to the Moon, making one complete turn every 20 minutes. The continuous rotation was necessary to keep the Sun’s rays from melting equipment on one side of the vehicle, while the shaded side froze. In the words of Michael Collins, the spacecraft was “like a chicken on a spit.”

  The astronauts were able to remove their pressurized suits during the translunar leg of the mission. The bulky suits were stored in bags underneath the cockpit couches, allowing Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins to move comfortably about in their nylon jumpsuits.

  The crew had a number of tasks to occupy their time during the journey to the Moon, including systems monitoring, charging batteries, chlorinating drinking water, and dumping wastewater. There was no bathroom in the cramped spacecraft—urine was collected through a condom catheter and vented outside the capsule, while feces were collected and stored in plastic bags. The astronauts could shave, but there were no showers, and marginal body hygiene was maintained by using disposable wipes.

  NASA flight surgeons closely monitored the crew’s heart rates, and if necessary, could run electrocardiogram tracings. Aboard the spacecraft, there was a special medical kit containing motion sickness and pain suppression injectors, urinary catheters, first aid ointment, bandages, eye drops, antibiotics, anti-nausea pills, stimulants, oral painkillers, decongestants, anti-diarrheal agents, aspirin, and sleeping pills. A survival kit, which would be utilized in the event of an emergency during lift-off or splash down, contained a life raft, utility knife, drinking water, dye markers, a desalinization kit, and a beacon transceiver.

  Columbia’s kitchen pantry was stocked with nearly 70 different kinds of freeze dried foods, including beef stew, shrimp cocktail, cream of chicken soup, tuna salad, spaghetti with meat sauce, sausage patties, and pineapple fruitcake. Using a special hot water gun, the astronauts hydrated the plastic food packages before each meal. The menu was varied, but not particularly appetizing— one astronaut described it as “add water, ignore taste.” Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins also had packets of dehydrated coffee, specially prepared to suit their individual tastes.

  In the spacecraft’s tight quarters, the astronauts were forced to set embarrassment aside. The fuel cells that generated the spacecraft’s drinking water failed to permanently bond the hydrogen and oxygen molecules, filling the reservoir with gaseous bubbles. The end result of drinking water was flatulence; an odor Michael Collins likened to “a mixture of wet dog and marsh grass.”

  At night, the astronauts varied their sleeping arrangements, with one of them strapped in his couch wearing a radio headphone, while the other two slept in hammock-like sleeping bags below the cockpit seats. In zero gravity, the crew had to be restrained while sleeping to prevent floating about and inadvertently activating a cockpit switch or lever.

  The crew averaged only five hours of sleep per night. With the sun continually shining, masking external cues that differentiated day from night, their circadian rhythms were disrupted.

  The astronauts tolerated weightlessness without any ill-effects, but Collins noted a distinct transformation in his crewmates’ appearances: “With no gravity pulling down on loose fatty tissue beneath their eyes, they look squinty and decidedly Oriental. It makes Buzz look like a swollen eyed allergic, and Neil like a very wily, sly one.”

  Over the course of their eight-day mission, the astronauts absorbed a cut in pay. Neil Armstrong’s salary was reduced from $16.00 to $4.00 per day, because he was being “housed and fed at government expense.”

  At the end of their first day in space, 14 hours after lift-off, the Apollo 11 crew was already 60,0
00 miles from Earth.

  CHAPTER 9

  The most awesome sphere that

  I’ve ever seen

  On the evening of their second day in space, the Apollo 11 crew passed the equigravisphere point, where the Moon’s gravitational pull took complete control of the spacecraft. Columbia was now 214,402 miles from Earth and had slowed to a velocity of 2,000 miles per hour. Once under the full influence of lunar gravity, the spacecraft would begin to regain speed.

  The highlight of day number two had been the firing of the CSM propulsion engines to make a flight course correction. While four such corrections had been planned, only one was actually required. Michael Collins explained the need to slightly alter the spacecraft’s flight trajectory to overcome the forces of nature: “The Sun is pulling us, the Earth is pulling us, the Moon is pulling us—just as Newton predicted they would.” As the command module pilot, Collins savored the opportunity to make a course correction: “For three brief seconds of service module engine firing, Mike Collins will be driving, instead of Sir Isaac Newton!”

  Mission Control informed the astronauts that an unmanned Soviet spacecraft, Luna 15, had been launched on July 13th, and was making a desperate attempt to beat Apollo 11 to the Moon. NASA reassured the crew that the Russian probe would not interfere with their lunar orbit and landing. Unbeknownst to NASA, the latest Soviet N-1 rocket had exploded on the launch pad four days earlier, effectively ending the Soviets’ manned lunar landing program.

  In early evening of the second day, the Apollo 11 astronauts hosted a 36-minute television broadcast. For the first time, the American public was able to see the astronauts in action, far from home. During the lighthearted broadcast, Buzz Aldrin performed zero gravity pushups and Neil Armstrong stood on his head, while Michael Collins demonstrated how to prepare chicken stew in a weightless environment.

  As the astronauts grew closer to the Moon, the changing environment was a source of wonderment. Over 200,000 miles from home, Earth’s reflected light, also known as Earthshine, was intense enough to illuminate Columbia’s cockpit.

  “It was so bright, you could read a book by it,” Collins recalled.

  The Apollo 11 crew shared an unprecedented view of the Milky Way. Collins marveled at the celestial panorama: “The sky’s full of stars.”

  At the beginning of day three, the Moon was no longer a distant object in the horizon, and the astronauts searched for the right words to describe what they were seeing. Michael Collins shared his observations with Mission Control: “The Moon I have known all my life—that two dimensional, small yellow disc in the sky, has gone away somewhere, to be replaced by the most awesome sphere that I’ve ever seen…”

  Nearly a quarter of a million miles from home, at least one of the astronauts encountered a sobering reminder of the magnitude of the journey. As he gazed out of Columbia’s cockpit window, Buzz Aldrin held up his thumb, completely blocking out the image of distant Earth.

  On day number four, Cap Com awakened the crew with news from home: “First off, it looks like it’s going to be impossible to get away from the fact that you guys are dominating all the news back here on Earth. Even Pravda, in Russia, is headlining the mission and calls Neil ‘the Czar of the ship…’”

  Later that same day, the newly commissioned Czar shared his bird’s eye observations: “The view of the Moon that we’ve been having recently is really spectacular. It fills about three-quarters of the hatch window, and of course, we can see the entire circumference, even though part of it is in the complete shadow and part of it is in Earthshine. It’s a view worth the price of the trip.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Hello Moon

  Near mid-day on July 19, 1969, the Apollo 11 spacecraft passed behind the Moon. Command module pilot, Michael Collins, fired the retrorockets on the CSM’s service propulsion system engines for six minutes, slowing the spacecraft’s speed from 5,000 to 3,000 miles per hour, allowing Columbia to enter into an elliptical orbit (LOI-1) around the Moon.

  Attainment of LOI-1 required precision; if the engine burn was not of sufficient duration, the spacecraft could be launched into an uncontrollable elliptical orbit. Conversely, if the engine burned too long, Columbia could fall out of orbit and crash on the surface of the Moon.

  The CSM engine was fueled by liquid propellants—a hydrazine/dimethylhydrazine mixture and nitrogen tetroxide. Both fuels were hypergolic, detonating on contact with one another, and required no spark.

  Within the 60 x 170-mile elliptical orbit, Columbia cruised around the Moon at 3,600 miles per hour. Each revolution took about two hours to complete.

  “Hello, Moon. How’s the old back side?” Collins asked aloud.

  Neil Armstrong described the spectacular view: “It looks very much like the pictures, but like the difference between watching a real football game and watching it on television. There’s no substitute for being here.”

  Armstrong and Aldrin called out the names of familiar landmarks on the lunar surface—Mount Marilyn (named for astronaut Jim Lovell’s wife), Boot Hill, Duke Island (named for astronaut Charlie Duke), and Diamond Back and Sidewinder (geological formations resembling rattlesnakes).

  “Yes, there’s a big mother over there, too!” Aldrin exclaimed, pointing out a crater below.

  “Come on now, Buzz, don’t refer to them as ‘big mothers’— give them a scientific name,” Collins teased.

  “It sure looks like a lot of them have slumped down,” Aldrin continued.

  “A slumping, big mother? Well, you see those every once in awhile,” Collins added.

  “Most of them are slumping. The bigger they are, the more they slump. That’s a truism, isn’t it? That is, the older, they get,” Aldrin replied, finally joining in the banter with Collins.

  The lunar surface appeared rose-colored to the Apollo 11 crew, and not nearly as drab as photographs had long suggested. Michael Collins named one crater Kamp, using the first initials of his wife and children—Kate, Ann, Michael, and Patricia.

  Columbia began its lunar orbit on the backside of the Moon, outside of radio contact range, and NASA officials anxiously awaited the spacecraft’s emergence from the dark side. CBS News anchorman Walter Cronkite narrated the scene for millions of television viewers: “It is quiet around the world, as the world waits to see if Apollo 11 is in a successful Moon orbit.”

  After 23 tense minutes, Armstrong radioed Mission Control: “Houston, Apollo 11, over.” The fight controllers were ecstatic; lunar orbit was a success.

  Five hours into LOI-1, Collins fired the retrorockets on the CSM’s propulsion system for 17 seconds, slowing the spacecraft, and allowing it to drop into a circular orbit (LOI-2). The new orbital trajectory measured 66 x 54 nautical miles, placing the combined CSM/LM spacecraft into a more ideal position for lunar descent.

  As the fourth day drew to a close, the Apollo 11 crew covered their cockpit windows to keep the reflected Moonshine from disrupting their sleep. It was time to rest—tomorrow, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin would walk on the Moon.

  CHAPTER 11

  Magnifcent desolation

  At 8:27 a.m., on July 20, 1969, Buzz Aldrin crawled through the 30-inch-diameter tunnel connecting the CSM to the lunar module, beginning a series of preflight checks. An hour later, Neil Armstrong joined him inside the Eagle. When Michael Collins closed the hatch behind them, he was fully aware that he might never see Armstrong and Aldrin again. For the command module pilot, it the marked the beginning of a lonely vigil in lunar orbit.

  Armstrong and Aldrin were fully aware of the many potential hazards of a lunar landing, and had been authorized to terminate this risky segment of the mission, if their lives were in immediate danger. Two nights before the launch of Apollo 11, Tom Paine, who had succeeded James Webb as NASA Administrator, informed the crew: “If you have to abort, I’ll see that you fly the next Moon landing. Just don’t get killed.”

  At Mission Control, 35-year-old flight director Gene Kranz addressed his staff concerning
the importance of the day ahead: “Okay, all flight controllers, listen up. Today is our day, and the hopes and dreams of the entire world are with us. This is our time and our place, and we will remember this day and what we do here, always. In the next hour, we will do something that has never been done before. We will land an American on the Moon…”

  The flight controllers were all ears, as Kranz continued: “We worked long hours and had some tough times, but we have mastered our work. Now, we are going to make this work pay off. You are a hell of a good team—one that I feel privileged to lead. Whatever happens, I will stand behind every call you will make. Good luck and God bless us today!”

  At the White House, President Nixon closely monitored the progress of the Apollo 11 mission. Nixon, among history’s most ardent anti-Communists, was eager to prove American innovations and technologies were superior to the Soviet Union’s best efforts. A successful lunar landing would be the ideal way to emphasize the President’s point.

  Nixon and his closest advisers were thoroughly briefed about the potential pitfalls during this most dangerous leg of the mission. In the event of a catastrophe, the President had a pre-prepared statement: “Fate has ordained that the men who went to explore in peace will stay on the Moon to rest in peace. These brave men, Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin, know that there is no hope for their recovery. But, they also know that there is hope for mankind in their sacrifice…”

  At 12:46 p.m., during Columbia’s 13th lunar orbit, Michael Collins activated a switch, releasing the LM from the docking port. The lunar module, bug-like in appearance, with a cockpit for a thorax and four spindly legs, separated from the mother ship.

  “The Eagle has wings,” Aldrin announced.

  The LM, piloted by Armstrong, momentarily hovered near Columbia, allowing Collins to inspect its exterior for any signs of damage.