Neil Armstrong: A Life of Flight (33 page)

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.

The Saturn V’s first stage was alive, but it was anchored to its launchpad by huge hold-down arms, chained to Earth until computers judged it ready to fly.

“Six, five, four,”

Neil heard their Saturn V howling, heard chunks and sheets and flakes of ice falling steadily from coatings formed by the super-cold oxidizers and propellants.
Apollo 11
’s rocket was ready to leave. Neil knew it wanted to go, but the computers were still saying wait, wait another three seconds, wait until we can be sure.

“Three, two, one, zero, all engines are running.”

Then, Neil felt it.

The most powerful machine ever built by man was suddenly free. Its hold-down arms released their gripped and Saturn V screamed get the hell out of my way.

“Liftoff, we have liftoff, 32 minutes past the hour, liftoff of
Apollo 11
. Tower cleared.”

Neil felt the Earth shake. Felt his crew’s 36-story-tall stack of rocket and spaceships claw itself out of Earth’s gravity well.

Birds flew for safety, wildlife fled for shelter, and the mighty rocket’s shock waves slammed into the chests of the million-plus, rattling their bones and fluttering their skin and clothes. They were forced to lean into the powering wave of oncoming energy as
Apollo 11
’s Saturn V created its own earthquake, bellowing primeval thunder. Neil could hear and feel it all even through his helmet and earphones. Seven-and-a-half million pounds of thrust was slamming into the ground, bouncing back to his ears, but he keyed his microphone anyway and from his din of tumultuous sound told CapCom Bruce McCandless, “Roger, clock. We got a roll program.”

Mission Control heard the report. Knew the clock was running and
Apollo 11
was rolling onto its proper heading. On the personal side, Neil knew only a few miles south of their ride to orbit—on a boat on the Banana River estuary were Janet, Rick, and Mark.

They had heard Jack King on the NASA squawk box announce liftoff but they couldn’t yet see the Saturn V. They could not yet hear. They could only hold their hearts in their throats until
Apollo 11
came into view, and suddenly it did and their smiles grew as everyone on the boat screamed and shouted and bounced up and down in celebration. Before her new color television in Wapakoneta Neil’s mother saw the ignition, saw the liftoff, and squeezed her hands in prayer.

But none of them knew the ponderous slow-motion rough and rocky ride Neil was feeling. The roar had been overwhelming but it was beginning to fade. He could now hear the slamming and banging and sloshing of millions of gallons of fuel and Neil reported to Mission Control, “Roll’s complete and the pitch is programmed,” adding, “One Bravo.”

Neil felt the launchpad shake as the rocket clawed itself out of Earth’s gravity well. (NASA)

Neil, Mike, and Buzz were on their desired flight path. One Bravo was now their abort mode. They were high enough and moving fast enough to leave most of the noise behind and Neil felt he could now hear Mission Control despite the herky, jerky thunderous ride. It seemed all of Saturn V’s stages were vibrating simultaneously as they flew through feathery white ice-crystal clouds—growing in weight. Their G load was building and they were slamming into the area of maximum aerodynamic pressure that would try to rip the Saturn V/
Apollo 11
apart.