CHAPTER 14
We got you coming home
On Monday night, July 21, 1969, Michael Collins fired Columbia’s service propulsion engines for 2.5 minutes, accelerating the spacecraft’s speed to 6,188 miles per hour. Like so many other aspects of the Apollo 11 mission, the engine burn was fraught with danger. If the spacecraft’s engines failed to respond, the astronauts would be stranded in lunar orbit. After accelerating to an escape velocity of 2,238 miles per hour, the CSM overcame the gravitational pull of the Moon and completed the process of trans-Earth injection.
“We got you coming home,” Mission Control announced to the crew.
The return trip to Earth required two and one-half days, and during that time, only one course correction engine burn was required. As Columbia sped homeward, Collins reflected how it was “nice to sit here and watch the Earth getting larger and larger, and Moon getting smaller and smaller.”
The Earth-bound astronauts were informed by Mission Control that the recently launched unmanned Russian probe, Luna 15, had crashed on the Moon, yet again stymieing the Soviet lunar exploration program. The news coverage, however, was dominated by the Apollo 11 mission. The front page of the July 21st issue of the Washington Post read: THE EAGLE HAS LANDED—TWO MEN WALK ON THE MOON. The New York Times featured a similar headline: MAN WALKS ON MOON—ASTRONAUTS LAND ON PLAIN AFTER STEERING PAST CRATER. Predictably, the Soviet Union downplayed the historic event, with Pravda burying the story in its back pages.
During their trip home, Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins began preparing for their newfound roles as American heroes. In the months to follow, the trio would be universally acclaimed and their names and faces etched in history. Even before they returned to Earth, the astronauts undertook tasks to commemorate their historic mission. Using a cancellation stamp, the Earth-bound voyagers prepared a new 10-cent postage stamp, featuring the image of an astronaut on the Moon.
When Columbia was 174,000 miles from home, Earth’s gravitational pull overtook the opposing lunar force, further accelerating the spacecraft. On the eve of splashdown, the astronauts delivered their last daily television broadcast. Michael Collins spent a portion of his allotted broadcast time thanking the people behind the scenes: “This trip of ours to the Moon may have looked simple or easy. I’d like to assure you that has not been the case. The Saturn V rocket which put us in orbit is an incredibly complicated piece of machinery, every piece of which worked flawlessly.”
“This operation is somewhat like the periscope of a submarine. All you see is the three of us, but beneath the surface are thousands of others, and to all of those, I would like to say, ‘Thank your very much,’” Collins concluded.
Buzz Aldrin discussed the future of space exploration: “We accepted the challenge of going to the Moon—the acceptance of this challenge was inevitable. The relative ease with which we carried out our mission, I believe, it is a tribute to the timeliness of that acceptance. Today, I feel we’re really capable of accepting expanded roles in the exploration of space.”
Mission commander Neil Armstrong spoke last, expressing appreciation to the thousands of men and women who made their mission an unqualified success: “We would like to give special thanks to those Americans who built those spacecraft—who did the construction, design, the tests, and put their hearts and all their abilities into those craft. To those people, tonight, we give special thanks to you. And, to all other people who are listening, and watching tonight, God bless you. Good night from Apollo 11.”
CHAPTER 15
Everyone okay inside
At 11:22 a.m., on Thursday July 24, 1969, the Apollo 11 crew jettisoned the spacecraft’s service module, 400,000 feet above the Earth’s surface. The 11,000-pound command module was now all that remained of the original 6,000,000-pound launch vehicle.
“It’s been a champ,” Michael Collins reminisced, watching the second to last component drift away into space.
After the service module was discarded, Collins turned the command module completely around, so the blunt end, protected by its heat shield, would lead the way during passage through Earth’s uppermost atmosphere. Traveling at a speed of 25,000 miles per hour, the spacecraft’s angle of re-entry was critical. A miscalculation would cause the capsule to either bounce off Earth, sending the astronauts on a perpetual journey into outer space, or cause it to incinerate in the atmosphere. The 40-mile-wide re-entry corridor, -6.48 degrees, was a narrow target for the command module pilot.
At 11:35 a.m., high above the northeastern coast of Australia, Columbia made a flawless re-entry, beginning the final leg of its historic journey. As expected, the astronauts encountered a rough ride, accelerating from zero gravity to a 6G force. Outside the capsule, temperatures soared to 5,000 degrees (F).
The ablative heat shield was the capsule’s only protection against incineration. Developed by Avco, the shield consisted of 4,000 cells, interwoven to form a protective honeycomb. The phenolic epoxy resin (reinforced plastic) was designed to melt away when exposed to the intense heat of re-entry, creating a protective cover around the blunt end of the spacecraft.
As Apollo 11 sped through Earth’s atmosphere at 36,000 feet per second, the heat shield turned a flaming orange-red color. During the height of re-entry, radio waves could not penetrate the fiery cloud surrounding the capsule. The eerie silence lasted for four minutes, as the world anxiously awaited word from the home-bound astronauts.
When Columbia emerged from the clouds high above the Pacific Ocean, NASA officials and millions of television viewers breathed a sigh of relief. At 24,000 feet, two drogue parachutes stabilized the capsule in a vertical position, decelerating it enough for the main chutes to be effective. Three ringtail chutes, 83-feet in diameter, deployed at 10,000 feet, slowing the spacecraft to a safe landing speed.
Due to unfavorable weather conditions, the splash down site had been moved 215 miles down range from its original location. The aircraft carrier, USS Hornet, was 13 miles away from the target zone, where helicopters and recovery teams were poised for action.
“11, this is Hornet. What’s your error of splashdown, and condition of crew?” the recovery team coordinator inquired.
“The condition of crew is excellent. We’re 4,000 to 3,500 feet, on the way down,” Neil Armstrong replied.
The spacecraft’s revised landing spot was 940 nautical miles southwest of Honolulu and 1,440 nautical miles east of Wake Island—13 degrees, 19 minutes North and 169 degrees, 9 minutes West. At 11:49 a.m., Columbia splashed down in the Pacific Ocean, 8 days, 3 hours, 18 minutes, and 30 seconds after lift-off. Neil Armstrong acknowledged the successful landing: “Everyone okay inside. Awaiting swimmers.”
At Mission Control, applause erupted in the Trench. The flight controllers exchanged handshakes and raised their fists in triumph. While tiny American flags were excitedly waved, a handful of exhausted flight controllers lit victory cigars.
After landing in the unsettling Pacific waters, the capsule immediately flipped over into the stable two position, leaving the crew dangling upside down in their cockpit seats. The automatic deployment of Columbia’s airbags soon righted the spacecraft into the stable one position. The astronauts took a second motion sickness pill, having already swallowed one prior to re-entry, and were better able to tolerate the choppy seas, while awaiting arrival of the recovery team.
At 12:20 p.m., Navy swimmers arrived and inflated a flotation collar around the base of the capsule to improve stability. The hatch was briefly opened, and a recovery team diver hastily tossed three biological containment garments (BIGS) inside the capsule. Almost immediately after returning to Earth, the Apollo 11 crew was forced to begin the isolation phase of their mission; NASA’s medical epidemiologists were uncertain if pathogenic biological organisms dwelled on the Moon, and were determined to prevent an unprecedented and potentially untreatable epidemic.
After spending eight days in space, the astronauts felt a bit dizzy and noted slight swelling in their feet an
d legs as they adjusted to the force of gravity, but had no difficulty donning their BIGS. Exiting the open hatch door, Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins jumped into the adjacent inflatable life raft, where they spent several minutes spraying and wiping one other with liquid disinfectant.
One by one, the astronauts were lifted by a basket into the recovery helicopter hovering overhead. A hero’s welcome awaited them.
CHAPTER 16
The greatest week in the history of the world, since Creation
Confined within their stifling biological contamination suits, the astronauts were unable to speak to each other or the recovery crew as they were taken by helicopter to the USS Hornet. Michael Collins tried a couple of deep knee bends to exercise his gravity-deprived body, but quickly discovered extraneous movements made him feel more uncomfortable in the claustrophobic isolation garment.
After landing on the deck of the aircraft carrier, the astronauts were immediately transferred to the mobile quarantine facility (MQF), which Collins referred to as “a gloried trailer without wheels.” The trailer was divided into three sections—a lounge area, galley, and sleep/bath area. Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins were joined in quarantine by a NASA flight surgeon and a mechanical engineer, the latter of whom was responsible for cooking and housekeeping chores, as well as sterilization of the lunar rock samples.
The astronauts were finally allowed to remove their suffocating contamination suits, and for the first time in eight days, were able to take a shower. The freshly scrubbed trio was then led to the MQF’s lounge area, where a glass window separated them from President Richard Nixon, who had come aboard the Hornet to personally greet the heroes. Nixon praised the astronauts for their courage and skill, hailing the Apollo 11 mission as “the greatest week in the history of the world, since Creation.”
The Apollo 11 crew spent two nights aboard the USS Hornet, while the aircraft carrier cruised to Hawaii. At Pearl Harbor, the MQF was loaded on a flat bed truck, and the astronauts were paraded through the streets of Honolulu, lined with cheering crowds. At Hickam Air Force Base, the trailer was loaded onto a C-141 transport plane and flown to Ellington Air Force Base in Houston. Thousands of gleeful Texans applauded all along the route from the air base to Mission Control.
At the Manned Space Flight Center, Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins departed the trailer and entered the lunar receiving laboratory (LRL), a much more spacious facility with individual, private quarters. The astronauts were joined in the LRL by cooks, housekeepers, and flight surgeons. Once anyone entered the quarantine area, they would not be allowed to leave until the Apollo 11 astronauts were released. A whimsical sign was erected over the entrance to the LRL: “Please don’t feed the animals.”
The Apollo 11 crew remained in active quarantine for three weeks. During their confinement in the LRL, the trio underwent medical examinations and debriefings, and spent hours writing detailed reports about their lunar mission. In typical bureaucratic fashion, each astronaut was asked to submit a personal voucher for travel-related expenses—Neil Armstrong was ultimately reimbursed by the federal government, in the amount of $49.10. They were also required to fill out a customs declaration form, acknowledging the transport of Moon rock and soil samples into the United States, with a port of entry in Hawaii.
During the quarantine period, NASA scientists performed a variety of tests to determine if infectious microorganism had accompanied the astronauts from the Moon to Earth. A group of germfree mice were exposed to the astronauts and their lunar surface equipment. Soil and rock samples from the Moon were placed in a culture media to monitor the potential growth and development of pathogens. Human and animal culture cells, embryos, 33 species of plants and seedlings, and a variety of animals, including fish, birds, oysters, shrimp, houseflies, planarian, paramecia, and euglena, were also exposed to lunar material. When none of the life forms contracted previously unrecognized infectious diseases, fears of contamination with Moon bugs were temporarily dispelled.
NASA officials were eager to examine the hundreds of photographs taken by Armstrong and Aldrin while on the lunar surface, but fears of biological contamination rendered immediate picture-viewing difficult. NASA Chief of Photography, Richard Underwood, proposed that the film remain undeveloped until the quarantine period was complete. Underwood was quickly over-ruled by NASA administrators, and ordered to develop a method to decontaminate the film, without damaging or destroying the irreplaceable photographs. Consequently, the film rolls were placed in stainless steel containers and exposed to gaseous ethylene oxide, designed to exterminate potential lunar pathogens. As hoped, the still photography was magnificent, and many of those images now grace the pages of history books.
At 9:00 p.m. on August 13, 1969, three weeks after splash down, the Apollo 11 crew exited the quarantine facility. Over the next several weeks, the conquering heroes were featured guests at numerous banquets and receptions. Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins were flown aboard Air Force Two to New York City, Chicago, and Los Angeles, where ticker tape parades were held in their honor. In Los Angeles, an official State Dinner honoring the astronauts was hosted by President Nixon and Vice-President Spiro Agnew. Among the distinguished guests attending the black tie affair were 44 Governors, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and Ambassadors from 83 foreign nations.
President Nixon formally recognized the historic achievements of the Apollo 11 crew: “It has been my privilege in the White House, and also in other world capitals, to propose toasts to many distinguished people, to Emperors, to Kings, to Presidents, to Prime Ministers, and yes, to a Duke, and tonight, this is the highest privilege I could have, to propose a toast to America’s astronauts.”
On August 16th, 300,000 people jammed the streets of Houston for a parade honoring the Apollo 11 crew. That night, a crowd of 45,000 gathered in the Astrodome to celebrate the triumphant lunar mission. Frank Sinatra was among the featured entertainers, serenading the joyous crowd with Fly Me to the Moon.
The Apollo 11 crew soon departed on a six-continent Giant Leap Tour, otherwise known as Operation Giant Step. Greeted with international acclaim, the astronauts and their spouses traveled to 23 countries over the course of 45 days.
Amidst the post-mission celebration, the astronauts occasionally encountered unpleasantness. At Marquette University, the Apollo 11 crew was pelted with eggs and tomatoes by an angry mob of Vietnam War protestors.
On September 16, 1969, Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins addressed a joint session of Congress. The astronauts presented the Senators and Congressmen with a pair of American flags that had traveled to the Moon and back—one each for the House of Representatives and the Senate.
The numerous accolades received by the Apollo 11 astronauts were justifiable, etching their names in the annals of history. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins seemed largely unfazed by the publicity, and would remain forever grateful for the opportunity afforded to them. The Apollo 11 crew viewed their historical achievement as simply a call to duty.
Perhaps the single best tribute came from the pen of Michael Collins. While still in quarantine aboard the USS Hornet, Collins made a secret visit to the command module. On the capsule’s cockpit wall, he wrote: “Spacecraft 107—alias Apollo 11—alias Columbia. The best ship to come down the line. God Bless her. Michael Collins, CMP.”
EPILOGUE
On November 19, 1969, four months after Neil Armstrong became the first man to step foot on the Moon, Apollo 12’s lunar module touched down in the Ocean of Storms, only 600 feet from the unmanned Surveyor probe that had landed there in 1967. Astronauts Alan Bean and Pete Conrad spent over 31 hours on the lunar surface.
The Apollo 12 mission was barely underway, when complications arose. Just 36 seconds after lift-off, at an altitude of 1,859 meters, the Saturn V rocket was struck by lightning. Fifty-two seconds later, lightning struck the rocket a second time. The spacecraft’s electronic systems immediately went haywire, leaving the crew in total darkness, before the back-up
system restored power.
On April 11, 1970, Apollo 13 was launched from Cape Canaveral. After traveling some 200,000 miles from Earth, mission commander James Lovell radioed Mission Control with the now famous words: “Okay, Houston. We have a problem.”
A ruptured oxygen tank in the service module forced cancellation of the lunar landing and threatened the lives of the crew. Lovell and his crewmates, John Swigert and Fred Haise, had to conserve electricity and water, utilizing the lunar module’s power and oxygen supply during their perilous, but ultimately successful swing around the Moon and return home.
On February 5, 1971, the Apollo 14 lunar module landed in the Frau Mauro lunar highlands. Forty-seven-year-old Alan Shepard, America’s first space voyager, served as mission commander, having returned to active duty following surgery to correct vertigo— a medical problem that had grounded him for nearly 10 years. Shepard and fellow astronaut Ed Mitchell became the fifth and sixth men to walk on the Moon. The image of Shepard hitting a golf ball on the lunar surface with a modified six iron is a permanent fixture in Apollo lore.
Apollo 15’s LM landed on the Moon on July 30, 1971. The lunar rover, a battery-powered dune buggy-type vehicle, folded and stored inside the base of the LM, was used for the first time during this mission, allowing the astronauts to travel greater distances from the landing site. During their lunar excursions, spread out over three days, astronauts David Scott and Jim Irwin launched a small satellite into lunar orbit, providing NASA scientists with a new means of collecting data about the Moon. The Apollo 15 astronauts were the first crew to forego the post flight quarantine; repeated tests had established that there were no infectious Moon bugs.
The Eagle Has Landed: The Story of Apollo 11 Page 13
