Neil Armstrong: A Life of Flight (25 page)

The
Apollo 7
astronauts gave us this extraordinary picture of sunrise over Cape Canaveral and the peninsula of Florida. Some say it was the gods’ memorial for the fallen
Apollo 1
crew. (NASA)

*   *   *

America was back on the road to the lunar surface, but Russia wasn’t standing still. America had its super booster the Saturn V. Russia had its super booster N-1. Saturn V was on schedule; N-1 was beset with failure.

America’s intelligence assets were keeping a close watch on the Russians and Neil had friends in those assets. He was one of the first to be told when the Russians prepared a squadron of their smaller R-7 rockets. They were to launch a fleet of tankers into Earth orbit. Cosmonauts would follow and gather the tankers and herd them into a single train of one of the all-new Soyuz spacecraft and five fueled cars. This train would chug its way to lunar orbit, beating Americans to the moon.

Russia’s Zond spacecraft on its flight around the moon. (Artist image, Russian Federal Space Agency)

Then Vladimir Komarov died in
Soyuz 1
, delaying Soviet plans.

The Russians regrouped. They began modifying the Soyuz spacecraft so it could carry one or two cosmonauts on a single pass around the moon. Not a landing. But in the eyes of most nations they would have indeed beaten the Americans to the moon and then gone on to other projects such as building a space station, saying, “We could’ve landed if we’d wanted.”

The Russians called their modified lunar ship Zond, and they loaded it with tortoises, flies, and worms, and in November 1968, they sent the living creatures on a flight around the moon and brought them all back alive.

Neil and his friends in intelligence believed this flight was Russia’s dress rehearsal for history’s first trip by a cosmonaut around the moon and back. NASA did, too.

Sitting atop its mammoth Saturn V rocket,
Apollo 8
is rolled out of its giant assembly hangar for its three-and-a-half-mile, snail-pace journey to its launchpad. (NASA)

FOURTEEN

HELLO MOON

A Thor-Agena rose from California’s Vandenberg Air Force Base carrying another photoreconnaissance spy on its mission of keeping watch on what was happening at Russia’s launch site. Come the following morning, analysts were looking at another Soviet heavy-lift proton rocket sitting on its launchpad. It was waiting to be outfitted with a Zond spacecraft.

Time was critical.

As they had done with the Zond loaded with tortoises, flies, and worms, the Russians were now in a position to dispatch a single cosmonaut on a circumlunar flight in December or January.

NASA’s top executives were in a quandary. They saw failure before them. NASA administrator Jim Webb told President Lyndon Johnson it was time for America to gamble, to consider putting astronauts on the Saturn V rocket’s first manned flight, and send them all the way to the moon aboard
Apollo 8
.

Some experts scoffed at the plan. Most argued for it, and Webb told the outgoing president that it was the consensus of NASA engineers that they had corrected the Saturn V’s minor problems and there was no need for an additional unmanned test. It was time to fly.

America wasted time with a test of the Redstone that proved to be useless, which permitted Yuri Gagarin to beat Alan Shepard into space. Deke Slayton and NASA’s astronauts weren’t about to see a repeat of that little dog and pony show. The lunar module would not be ready for its first flight test for four or five months, but they had a perfectly good Apollo, and Deke turned to
Apollo 8
Commander Frank Borman, later saying, “The sonofabitch almost turned handsprings when I told him there was a possibility
Apollo 8
would go all the way to the moon.”

Deke laughed. “Borman’s answer was an overwhelming
yes
,” and then Deke told
Apollo 8
’s backup commander, Neil Armstrong.

Neil assured the boss that with the success of
Apollo 7
the idea of sending
Apollo 8
to the moon was a masterful stroke of genius. He had been talking to his friends in intelligence and Neil told Deke, “We should not only go, we should put
Apollo 8
in orbit around the moon, too. This would kill their plans to fly circumlunar.”

Deke nodded. He liked Neil’s advice.

*   *   *

Every second of time was essential. On November 11, 1968, the new NASA administrator, Thomas Paine, approved the plan. He phoned his decision to the White House, and President Johnson gave his blessing. It was the single greatest gamble in spaceflight then, and since.

Apollo 8
was readied for launch December 21, 1968, and Neil awoke with the prime crew. Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and Bill Anders began suiting up as Neil hustled over to the launchpad and climbed aboard the moon-bound spacecraft. It was the job of the backup commander to monitor the prelaunch sequence from inside the cockpit. He was there to check and set all switches.

When the suited prime crew arrived in the white room, Neil shook their hands and retreated to the Launch Control Center where he joined his backup crew, Buzz Aldrin and Fred Haise. The three staked out great viewing spots along the big window facing the pad and turned their ears to the speakers and the voice of launch commentator Jack King.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six,” and the Saturn V was alive.

But it didn’t go anywhere. Neil knew the giant rocket consisted of millions of parts and systems. The Launch Control Center’s computers worked at the speed of light checking and rechecking every single part before the most powerful machine ever would be permitted to move.

But its sound didn’t stay put.

Its thunderous roar came to life with Saturn V’s ignition and tore its way across the space center, hammering everything in its way. The wide launch control building was no exception.

The tsunami of thunder slammed into the nerve center’s windows, buckling the big one in front of Neil and crew, who for a moment thought they’d bought it. They thought all glass had shattered and they stepped back as newly built ceiling parts fell along with other construction leftovers.

Those in Launch Control thought the sky was falling. (NASA)

But the windows held and Neil could easily see the Saturn V’s powerful engines were burning even fiercer, demanding they be unleashed, and Jack King reported, “All engines running … Three, two, one, zero!”

And then it happened. Explosive bolts fired and the Saturn V’s giant hold-down arms released their grip.

“We have liftoff, liftoff of
Apollo 8
—destination, moon.”

Neither Neil nor any among the huge assemblage surrounding the launchpad could take their eyes off the enormity of it all: Saturn V moved. That largest of machines ever created reached for sky, rode on flame and roared, pounded ears, overwhelmed all those watching, slammed crackling thunder into their bodies, fluttered their clothes, rolled their flesh in small yet perfect patterns, and rattled the coins in their pockets. Neil Armstrong suddenly knew he couldn’t wait for the day he’d be riding that beautiful son of a bitch.

Apollo 8
heads for the moon. (NASA)

The 600,000 who had gathered on and around the spaceport braced for the Saturn V’s fury. (NASA)

Birds fled from their roosts. Wildlife ran from the stunning and numbing sound. It pounded and leapt and trampled until it was no longer thunder, no longer roar. It turned into a series of staccato explosions and now it hurt. It brought a terrible crackling pain to the ears, assaulted the body, yet it was exhilarating and worth the beating as the great assemblage stared into the blinding mass of fire.

Higher and higher
Apollo 8
climbed, leaving its ear-shattering sound behind as it reached for orbit on a spear of flame more than 800 feet in length. The mass of spectators could only stare deeply into its flaming thrust, watch it turn into a rich orange, watch as red appeared along its burning edges, and each sought a final last sighting as the pounding chariot drawn by thrust and driven by fire disappeared over the Atlantic and Neil Armstrong knew that if one could love a machine he loved this one.