Read Flying to the Moon Online
Authors: Michael Collins
Flying to the Moon (12 page)
While I was struggling to learn Apollo, it seemed to me the most important thing in the whole world, but suddenly I discovered that it really wasn't. Something was wrong
with me, and I realized my health was a whole lot more important to me than any spacecraft. I first noticed my problem when I was playing handball. My legs didn't seem to be working right, and I would stumble frequently. Also my left leg felt funny, with a tingling sensation, and there were parts of it that were numb. After checking with four doctors, I discovered that the trouble was up in my neck, where a bony growth on my spine was pushing against my spinal cord. Pressure against this important bundle of nerves can cause all kinds of trouble lower down in the body. The answer was an operation, which would remove the growth. It might also weaken my spine or do other permanent damage, so that I might never fly in space again. When I thought about the past two years since Gemini 10, I realized that my life as a “real” astronaut hadn't worked out the way I had hoped. It had been more hard work than glamour. Three of my friends had burned to death in a spacecraft, and now I was headed for major surgery. I checked into the hospital with a feeling of dread, but with a desire to see the pages of the calendar fly by, so that I could see what was going to happen to me.
with me, and I realized my health was a whole lot more important to me than any spacecraft. I first noticed my problem when I was playing handball. My legs didn't seem to be working right, and I would stumble frequently. Also my left leg felt funny, with a tingling sensation, and there were parts of it that were numb. After checking with four doctors, I discovered that the trouble was up in my neck, where a bony growth on my spine was pushing against my spinal cord. Pressure against this important bundle of nerves can cause all kinds of trouble lower down in the body. The answer was an operation, which would remove the growth. It might also weaken my spine or do other permanent damage, so that I might never fly in space again. When I thought about the past two years since Gemini 10, I realized that my life as a “real” astronaut hadn't worked out the way I had hoped. It had been more hard work than glamour. Three of my friends had burned to death in a spacecraft, and now I was headed for major surgery. I checked into the hospital with a feeling of dread, but with a desire to see the pages of the calendar fly by, so that I could see what was going to happen to me.
W
hen I woke up after surgery, there was a plastic ring around my neck, my right hip hurt, and I had trouble swallowing. The ring was to hold my neck in one position, and I was to wear it twenty-four hours a day for three months. The hip pain was caused by the removal of a circular piece of bone from my hip, which had then been inserted into a hole in my spine, where it would cause new bone to grow and strengthen my spine. My throat hurt because the doctor had to move it out of the way so he could reach my backbone. Within a week my pains had gone away, and I was released from the hospital. Now I had only to wait three months to see if my spine was growing back together properly.
hen I woke up after surgery, there was a plastic ring around my neck, my right hip hurt, and I had trouble swallowing. The ring was to hold my neck in one position, and I was to wear it twenty-four hours a day for three months. The hip pain was caused by the removal of a circular piece of bone from my hip, which had then been inserted into a hole in my spine, where it would cause new bone to grow and strengthen my spine. My throat hurt because the doctor had to move it out of the way so he could reach my backbone. Within a week my pains had gone away, and I was released from the hospital. Now I had only to wait three months to see if my spine was growing back together properly.
In the meantime, my old crewmates Borman and Anders had been joined by Jim Lovell, who had taken my place. Their flight, instead of going out 4,000 miles, was now scheduled to fly all the way to the moon. I was really sad that I would not be going with them, but I was even more concerned about my back. When the three months were up, an X-ray showed that my spine was healing beautifully, and was regaining full strength. It was a real relief to throw the plastic ring away. I was allowed to fly airplanes again, and I hoped to be assigned to a flight crew, but my first job was to help with the flight of BormanâLovellâAnders to the moon.
The only previous Apollo flight had been an earth orbital test of the command module, and it had worked fine, but the idea of taking a command module all the way to the moon was a bit scary. No one had ever left the gravitational pull of the earth before, not in all history. Apollo 8, as Borman's flight was called, had to aim at a place in the sky where the moon would be three days later. If done properly, it would barely miss the moon as it passed a mere eighty miles in front of it, at a distance of 230,000 miles from earth. Then it would fire its engine and slow down enough to be captured by the moon's gravity. It would be trapped in lunar orbit unless its engine worked properly to start it on the trip back to earth. Since none of this had been done before, people were naturally worried. My job was to work in Mission Control and to talk on the radio with the crew, relaying necessary information to them.
When launch day arrived, I was quite nervous. This was the first crew to ride the gigantic Saturn V rocket, and I wasn't sure how safe a ride it would be. I remembered
watching the first flight of the unmanned Saturn V. The safety people wouldn't let spectators get within three miles of it, but even at that distance the monster made the sand shake under my feet, and the crackling roar of its five huge engines made me wince. Now three men would be, not three miles away, but perched on the nose of the monster! As they left the launch pad, their actual path in the sky was calculated and compared with the ideal path, which was shown as a line on the wall in Mission Control Center. Their spacecraft appeared as a dot, which was supposed to climb up the center of the line. If the Saturn V veered off in the wrong direction, I could tell it by watching the dot separate from the line. Then I would notify Borman and he could separate his command module from the Saturn V and return to earth. Fortunately, I didn't need to do this, as the Saturn V put the spacecraft in the proper orbit. After checking all their equipment, they were ready to leave earth orbit for the first time in history, and again the Saturn V put them on a perfect path for the moon.
watching the first flight of the unmanned Saturn V. The safety people wouldn't let spectators get within three miles of it, but even at that distance the monster made the sand shake under my feet, and the crackling roar of its five huge engines made me wince. Now three men would be, not three miles away, but perched on the nose of the monster! As they left the launch pad, their actual path in the sky was calculated and compared with the ideal path, which was shown as a line on the wall in Mission Control Center. Their spacecraft appeared as a dot, which was supposed to climb up the center of the line. If the Saturn V veered off in the wrong direction, I could tell it by watching the dot separate from the line. Then I would notify Borman and he could separate his command module from the Saturn V and return to earth. Fortunately, I didn't need to do this, as the Saturn V put the spacecraft in the proper orbit. After checking all their equipment, they were ready to leave earth orbit for the first time in history, and again the Saturn V put them on a perfect path for the moon.
Now they were on their way, and I breathed a sigh of relief. When they got to the moon three days later, they chattered like excited tourists. They thought the moon looked like dirty beach sand. It was Christmas Eve, and they celebrated by reading parts of the Bible, from the Book of Genesis. It is the very first part of the Bible: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth, and the earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, âLet there be light'; and there was light.” On their way back from the moon, Jim Lovell said he thought the earth looked like a “grand
oasis in the great vastness of space.” I got the feeling from listening to them talk on the radio for a week that they would always appreciate the earth more because of their flight so far away from it. When the flight ended, and the spacecraft plopped into the Pacific Ocean, I felt both great happiness and sadness. I was happy that everything had gone so well, and sad that I had not been able to go with Borman and Anders instead of Lovell. In place of a trip to the moon, I had only a scar on my throat and a great desire to make up for lost time.
oasis in the great vastness of space.” I got the feeling from listening to them talk on the radio for a week that they would always appreciate the earth more because of their flight so far away from it. When the flight ended, and the spacecraft plopped into the Pacific Ocean, I felt both great happiness and sadness. I was happy that everything had gone so well, and sad that I had not been able to go with Borman and Anders instead of Lovell. In place of a trip to the moon, I had only a scar on my throat and a great desire to make up for lost time.
The news was not long in coming, and it was all good. I was assigned to the Apollo 11 crew, with Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin! We were to be the first crew to attempt a lunar landing, provided everything went well. By that I mean that Apollos 9 and 10 must make near-perfect flights before us. Apollo 9 was the first test flight of the lunar module, in earth orbit, and Apollo 10 was to be a dress rehearsal in lunar orbit, involving a rendezvous but not a landing. I figured the chances were about fifty-fifty for Apollo 11 to be the first flight to try a landing. I would know in six months' time, but meanwhile it was back into the simulator for me, because that is where I would get the knowledge I needed to fly safely and well.
The simulator, inside, looked exactly like a real command module. Outside, it looked completely different. There were huge boxes attached to the windows, which contained make-believe stars and spacecraft, so that when we looked out the windows we would see what we would see in flight. Then there was a huge computer, which figured out things like how far away from the earth or the lunar module we might be at any time in our imaginary
flight. The whole thing looked like a huge pile of jumbled boxes. John Young called it the “great train wreck.” Sometimes I got inside it with Neil and Buzz and we practiced things like launches and reentries, where all three of us would be together. At other times, Neil and Buzz got into the lunar-module simulators and I stayed by myself in the command-module simulator. We each had our own computer, and we would hook these up to Mission Control's computer, and then we would pretend to chase each other around the moon, while the computers measured how long it took and how much fuel we used. As the months went by, we got better and better at flying the simulator, and finally I was ready to stop pretending and really fly.
flight. The whole thing looked like a huge pile of jumbled boxes. John Young called it the “great train wreck.” Sometimes I got inside it with Neil and Buzz and we practiced things like launches and reentries, where all three of us would be together. At other times, Neil and Buzz got into the lunar-module simulators and I stayed by myself in the command-module simulator. We each had our own computer, and we would hook these up to Mission Control's computer, and then we would pretend to chase each other around the moon, while the computers measured how long it took and how much fuel we used. As the months went by, we got better and better at flying the simulator, and finally I was ready to stop pretending and really fly.
Of course, being the first lunar-landing flight made Apollo 11 different in a number of ways. One was germs. No one had ever worried about germs in empty space, but now we were going to touch the moon. Suppose there were germs on the moon, and suppose when we brought them back on our clothes and bodies, we discovered that they killed earth plants or animals or people? Very few scientists thought this could happen, but no one wanted to take a chance on infecting planet earth with moon germs. Therefore, the three of us would be separated from the rest of the world until we had been certified “germ-free,” or at least “moon-germ-free” (there is no way of getting rid of the normal germs in your body). The way it would work was this: when we landed in the Pacific, we would open our side hatch, and the Navy frogmen would throw in three rubber suits to us. We would put these on before leaving the spacecraft. Since they covered head and body entirely, our germs would stay inside them. Then we would be delivered
by helicopter to the aircraft carrier, where we would be locked up inside an aluminum box that looked like a house trailer. When the aircraft carrier reached Hawaii, the box (with us still inside it) would be flown to Houston and put inside a special sealed building. Then we could get out of the box, and scientists and doctors could check us for a couple of weeks. If we didn't show signs of sickness, and no strange germs could be found, then we would be released from the building.
by helicopter to the aircraft carrier, where we would be locked up inside an aluminum box that looked like a house trailer. When the aircraft carrier reached Hawaii, the box (with us still inside it) would be flown to Houston and put inside a special sealed building. Then we could get out of the box, and scientists and doctors could check us for a couple of weeks. If we didn't show signs of sickness, and no strange germs could be found, then we would be released from the building.
Somehow, the possibility of germs did not worry me. Maybe that was because I had plenty of other things to think about. Newspaper reporters frequently asked us what the most dangerous part of our trip to the moon would be, and I usually answered, “That part which we have overlooked in our preparations.” In other words, if we knew something was really dangerous, we would spend more time practicing that, but in the meantime we might overlook some little detail that no one had thought about, and which could be most dangerous of all. When I thought about our eight-day voyage, it seemed to me that there were eleven major events along the way:
1. LAUNCH. Obviously a hazardous time, with gigantic engines spewing out high-temperature exhaust gases, and terrific wind blasts as the rocket ascended.
2. TLI. Trans-lunar injection meant firing the Saturn V's engine for the final time, putting us on a course which would barely miss the moon three days later.
3. T&D. Transposition and docking was the process by which I would fly the command module out in front of the Saturn V, turn around and dock with the lunar module
nestled in the Saturn's nose, and pull the lunar module free.
nestled in the Saturn's nose, and pull the lunar module free.
4. LOI. Lunar-orbit insertion was the process of slowing down enough to be captured by the moon's gravity, but not slow enough to crash into it.
5. LUNAR-MODULE DESCENT. This was a tricky time for Neil and Buzz, to make sure they came down at exactly the right spot on the moon.
6. LANDING. Could be very dangerous; we simply didn't know. Fuel tanks would be near empty. Dust might make it hard to see. The surface might be too rough.
7. EVA. Extra-vehicular activityâwalking on the moonâmight be very tiring. Neil or Buzz might fall down and injure himself or his equipment. There might even be potholes or underground weaknesses which would cause the surface to collapse under their weight.
8. LIFT-OFF. Neil and Buzz's engine had better work, or they were stranded forever.
9. RENDEZVOUS. The most complicated part of all. There were eighteen different types of rendezvous which could result if various things went wrong. A lot of them involved my rescuing Neil and Buzz.
10. TEI. Trans-earth injection meant igniting the command module's engine to cause us to speed up enough to break the moon's tug of gravity and send us on our way back to earth.
11. ENTRY. We had to dive into the earth's atmosphere at precisely the right angle. If the angle was too shallow, we might skip back out of the atmosphere and miss the earth entirely. If too steep, we could burn up.
These eleven were the major events, and they were hooked together like a fragile daisy chain looped around the moon. If one broke, the whole chain was useless. Of course, our friends on the earlier flights had tried out as many of them as possible. Wally Schirra's crew on Apollo 7 had checked out the command module. Frank Borman on Apollo 8 had taken the command module all the way to the moon. Jim McDivitt and his Apollo 9 crew had test flown the lunar module. Finally, Tom Stafford and Apollo 10 had conducted a rehearsal in lunar orbit, including everything but a landing.
The thing that made our flight different, in addition to the landing itself, was that this was what the whole world had been waiting for, ever since President Kennedy had said, eight years before, that we were going to land a man on the moon and return him safely to earth. Flying in space was spooky enough, and I had been nervous before Gemini
10. But this time it was a different feeling. Gemini 10 had felt like a small local event compared to Apollo 11. This time I felt a great pressure on me, a pressure to not make any mistakes, because the whole world was watching. If the crew made mistakes, we would make not only ourselves look ridiculous, but also our whole country. I felt this pressure very keenly, as our launch day of July 16, 1969, approached.
And, of course, I continued to make mistakes, as all humans do. I remember one night flying from Dover, Delaware, to Houston, Texas. As I passed over the familiar terrain, I glanced down at the twin cities of Baltimore and Washington, where I had gone to high school and where
my mother still lived. I tried to find my old school and just about had it located when I suddenly realized I wasn't looking at Washington at all, but at Baltimore. Somehow I had turned the two cities around in my mind. And this guy, who couldn't tell Washington from Baltimore when directly overhead, was about to navigate to the moon and back. No harm done, of course, but still ⦠it made you wonder.
my mother still lived. I tried to find my old school and just about had it located when I suddenly realized I wasn't looking at Washington at all, but at Baltimore. Somehow I had turned the two cities around in my mind. And this guy, who couldn't tell Washington from Baltimore when directly overhead, was about to navigate to the moon and back. No harm done, of course, but still ⦠it made you wonder.
We also had a hundred little things to take care of before we flew, such as designing a mission emblem and naming our spacecraft. NASA wasn't too fond of names for spacecraft, and during the Gemini program we had used numbers only (like Gemini 10), but now we had two spacecraft, and we couldn't call them both Apollo 11 on the radio, so we needed names. Apollo 9 had called theirs
Gumdrop
and
Spider
, which I thought were neat names because the command module
was
shaped like a gumdrop and the lunar module
did
look sort of like a spider. But for Apollo 11 we wanted something which sounded a little more important. We also wanted an emblem which didn't show the spacecraft themselves but which somehow said our country was making a peaceful landing on the moon. Our country's symbol is the eagle, and one night I traced a landing eagle out of a bird book, and sketched the moon underneath the bird, with the earth in the background. I made a mistake about the direction from which sunshine would be striking the earth. The earth should have looked like
Gumdrop
and
Spider
, which I thought were neat names because the command module
was
shaped like a gumdrop and the lunar module
did
look sort of like a spider. But for Apollo 11 we wanted something which sounded a little more important. We also wanted an emblem which didn't show the spacecraft themselves but which somehow said our country was making a peaceful landing on the moon. Our country's symbol is the eagle, and one night I traced a landing eagle out of a bird book, and sketched the moon underneath the bird, with the earth in the background. I made a mistake about the direction from which sunshine would be striking the earth. The earth should have looked like
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