Read Flying to the Moon Online
Authors: Michael Collins
Flying to the Moon (15 page)
By the time we got the TV equipment packed up and put away, it was bedtime. All three of us were relaxed by now and ready for a long snooze. It was my turn to sleep under the left couch, zipped loosely inside a floating hammock, and I was comfortable indeed, much more so than the previous night or during any of my three Gemini nights. It was a strange sensation to float in the total darkness, suspended by a cobweb's light touch, with no pressure anywhere on my body. Instinctively, I felt that I was lying on my back, not my stomach, but I really was doing neitherâmost normal yardsticks disappear in space, and I was no more lying than standing or falling. The only thing I could say, really, was that I was stretched out, with my
body in a straight line from head to toe. The reason I thought of myself as lying on my back was that the main instrument panel was in front of me, and I had long accustomed myself to think of that direction as “up.” The next thing I knew, Buzz was talking on the radio, and I realized that it was “morning”âor, at least, eight hours had passed. In the constant sunshine between earth and moon, it was difficult to decide whether it was “morning” or “noon” or “evening.” All I knew was that the sun was still in the sky, just as it had been when I saw it last, and the earth was smaller yet, appearing to be about the size of my wristwatch.
body in a straight line from head to toe. The reason I thought of myself as lying on my back was that the main instrument panel was in front of me, and I had long accustomed myself to think of that direction as “up.” The next thing I knew, Buzz was talking on the radio, and I realized that it was “morning”âor, at least, eight hours had passed. In the constant sunshine between earth and moon, it was difficult to decide whether it was “morning” or “noon” or “evening.” All I knew was that the sun was still in the sky, just as it had been when I saw it last, and the earth was smaller yet, appearing to be about the size of my wristwatch.
Day number 3 was even quieter than day number 2 but day number 4 had an entirely different feeling to it. We knew we were going to be plenty busy and were going to see some strange sights. We stopped our barbecue motion and got our first look at the moon in nearly a day. The change in its appearance was spectacular! The moon I had known all my life, that small flat yellow disk in the sky, had gone somewhere, to be replaced by the most awesome sphere I had ever seen. It was huge, completely filling
Columbia'
s largest window. It was also three-dimensional, by which I mean that we could see its belly bulging out toward us, while its surface obviously receded toward the edges. I felt that I could almost reach out and touch it. It was between us and the sun, putting us in its shadow. The sun created a halo around it, making the moon's surface dark and mysterious in comparison with its shining rim. Its surface was lighted by earthshine, which was sunshine that had bounced off the surface of the earth onto the surface of the moon. It cast a bluish eerie glow by which we could see
large craters and the darker flat areas known as maria, or seas. It didn't look like a very friendly place, but Neil summed it up: “It's worth the price of the trip.” To me, it also looked a little bit scary.
Columbia'
s largest window. It was also three-dimensional, by which I mean that we could see its belly bulging out toward us, while its surface obviously receded toward the edges. I felt that I could almost reach out and touch it. It was between us and the sun, putting us in its shadow. The sun created a halo around it, making the moon's surface dark and mysterious in comparison with its shining rim. Its surface was lighted by earthshine, which was sunshine that had bounced off the surface of the earth onto the surface of the moon. It cast a bluish eerie glow by which we could see
large craters and the darker flat areas known as maria, or seas. It didn't look like a very friendly place, but Neil summed it up: “It's worth the price of the trip.” To me, it also looked a little bit scary.
In order to get into orbit around the moon, we had to slow down, or else we would have shot right on by it. We fired
Columbia'
s rocket engine shortly after we swung around behind the moon's left edge, out of touch with the earth for the first time in three days. However, we didn't need the earth, because our own computer told us which way to point and how long to fire the engine. After slightly over six minutes of engine firing, our computer told us we had arrived, and we had! We were skimming along approximately sixty miles above the moon's pockmarked surface. The back side of the moon, which we never see from earth, is even more battered and tortured-looking than the front side. On the back, there are no smooth maria, but only highlands which have been scarred by the impact of meteorites over billions of years. There is no atmosphere surrounding the moon to produce clouds or smog, so our view was impaired only by darkness. We discovered that the appearance of the surface changed greatly as the position of the sun changed. With the sun directly overhead, the moon appeared a cheery place, with soft rounded craters bathed in a rose-colored light. As the sun shifted toward the lunar horizon, the craters began to cast long shadows, the rose color changed to dark gray, and the surface appeared not smooth at all but a series of jagged edges. When the sun was below the horizon, the surface was either barely visible if it was in earthshine, or totally invisible in a black void if there was no earthshine. We were really eager
to get a look at our landing site. We didn't have any trouble finding it, because we had been studying maps for months and had memorized a series of craters and other checkpoints leading up to the landing site. But, boy, when we got there, it sure looked rough to me. It didn't look smooth enough to park a baby buggy, much less our landing craft
Eagle
. I didn't say anything to Neil or Buzz. I just hoped it was the angle of the sun which was causing the rough appearance. We would find out tomorrow.
Columbia'
s rocket engine shortly after we swung around behind the moon's left edge, out of touch with the earth for the first time in three days. However, we didn't need the earth, because our own computer told us which way to point and how long to fire the engine. After slightly over six minutes of engine firing, our computer told us we had arrived, and we had! We were skimming along approximately sixty miles above the moon's pockmarked surface. The back side of the moon, which we never see from earth, is even more battered and tortured-looking than the front side. On the back, there are no smooth maria, but only highlands which have been scarred by the impact of meteorites over billions of years. There is no atmosphere surrounding the moon to produce clouds or smog, so our view was impaired only by darkness. We discovered that the appearance of the surface changed greatly as the position of the sun changed. With the sun directly overhead, the moon appeared a cheery place, with soft rounded craters bathed in a rose-colored light. As the sun shifted toward the lunar horizon, the craters began to cast long shadows, the rose color changed to dark gray, and the surface appeared not smooth at all but a series of jagged edges. When the sun was below the horizon, the surface was either barely visible if it was in earthshine, or totally invisible in a black void if there was no earthshine. We were really eager
to get a look at our landing site. We didn't have any trouble finding it, because we had been studying maps for months and had memorized a series of craters and other checkpoints leading up to the landing site. But, boy, when we got there, it sure looked rough to me. It didn't look smooth enough to park a baby buggy, much less our landing craft
Eagle
. I didn't say anything to Neil or Buzz. I just hoped it was the angle of the sun which was causing the rough appearance. We would find out tomorrow.
In the meantime, I had one more task to perform before bedtime. With my sextant I took several measurements on a crater in the Foaming Sea (Mare Spumans, in Latin) east of our landing site in the Sea of Tranquility. The idea was that my measurements could increase the accuracy of our knowledge of the height of the terrain Neil and Buzz would be flying over in their descent to a landing. I had named the crater KAMP, using the first letters of the names of my children and wife (Kate, Ann, Michael, and Patricia). I liked the idea of my wife and kids being involved with helping the lunar landing.
The next day, number 5, lunar-landing day, began with the usual wake-up call from Houston, and proceeded swiftly from there. It was while we were eating breakfast that Houston told us the story of the Chinese rabbit that I mentioned at the beginning of this book. As soon as breakfast was over, we had to scramble into our pressure suits. Neil and Buzz began by putting on special underwear, into which thin plastic tubes had been woven. Water would be pumped from their backpacks into their suits and through these tubes, cooling their bodies while they were out on the hot lunar surface. Since I would not be joining them
there, I wore plain old regular underwear, or “long johns” as they are called. When we unpacked the three pressure suits from their bags, they seemed almost to fill the entire command module, as if there were three extra people in there with us. After quite a struggle and a tug of war with a balky zipper, we finally got the suits on, and our helmets and gloves locked in place. Then Neil and Buzz entered the lunar module, and I locked the hatch after them. I threw a switch on my instrument panel, and our two spacecraft were separated.
there, I wore plain old regular underwear, or “long johns” as they are called. When we unpacked the three pressure suits from their bags, they seemed almost to fill the entire command module, as if there were three extra people in there with us. After quite a struggle and a tug of war with a balky zipper, we finally got the suits on, and our helmets and gloves locked in place. Then Neil and Buzz entered the lunar module, and I locked the hatch after them. I threw a switch on my instrument panel, and our two spacecraft were separated.
Neil backed off fifty feet or so and made a slow 360° turn in front of me. The idea was to allow me to inspect all sides of the lunar module for possible damage, and to make sure all four landing gear were extended properly. I couldn't find anything wrong with
Eagle,
but it sure looked strange, unlike any kind of flying machine I had ever seen. It looked like a huge gold, black, and gray bug hanging awkwardly in the black sky. But Buzz was pleased with it. “The
Eagle
has wings!” he shouted. To me, it didn't look like an eagle, and I couldn't find any wings, only lumps and bumps and odd shapes on its surface. Since a lunar module flies only in space, high above the earth's atmosphere, the designers didn't have to make it streamlined, which is the reason it looked so awkward.
Eagle,
but it sure looked strange, unlike any kind of flying machine I had ever seen. It looked like a huge gold, black, and gray bug hanging awkwardly in the black sky. But Buzz was pleased with it. “The
Eagle
has wings!” he shouted. To me, it didn't look like an eagle, and I couldn't find any wings, only lumps and bumps and odd shapes on its surface. Since a lunar module flies only in space, high above the earth's atmosphere, the designers didn't have to make it streamlined, which is the reason it looked so awkward.
As Neil and Buzz descended to the lunar surface, I kept my eyes on them as long as I could. If they had to come back in a hurry for any reason, I wanted to know where they were. Looking at them through my sextant, I watched
Eagle
grow smaller and smaller until finally, when it was about one hundred miles away (below me and in front of me), I lost sight of it amid the craters. My main job now
was to keep
Columbia
running properly, and to keep quiet, because
Eagle
and Houston would have plenty to talk about during the landing attempt. Sure enough, it wasn't long before I could hear Neil telling Houston his computer was acting strangely, and Houston promptly replied that he should continue toward a landing. Buzz was calling off numbers to Neil, so that Neil could devote all his attention to looking out the window. The most important numbers were altitude (in feet above the surface) and descent rate (in feet per second). “Six hundred feet, down at nineteen ⦠Four hundred feet, down at nine ⦠Three hundred feet ⦠Watch our shadow out there,” called Buzz, repeating new numbers every few seconds. He also reported they had only 5 percent of their fuel remaining, which wasn't much. I started getting nervous. “Forty feet, down two and a half, kicking up some dust.” Well, at least the dust didn't seem to be a big problem, that was good. “Thirty seconds!” said Houston, meaning that they had only thirty seconds' worth of fuel remaining. Better get it on the ground, Neil! Suddenly Buzz shouted: “Contact light!” and I knew they were down. The lunar module had a wire dangling below one landing gear. When it touched the moon, it caused a light on the instrument panel to light, so that Neil would know he was just about to touch down. As soon as he did, he called: “Houston, Tranquility Base here, the
Eagle
has landed.” Whew! I breathed a big sigh of relief. Neil then explained why he had nearly run out of gas. The computer-controlled descent was taking
Eagle
into an area covered with huge boulders, and Neil had to keep flying until he found a smoother spot to land.
As good as that computer was, it took the eyes of the pilot to pick the best landing spot.
Eagle
grow smaller and smaller until finally, when it was about one hundred miles away (below me and in front of me), I lost sight of it amid the craters. My main job now
was to keep
Columbia
running properly, and to keep quiet, because
Eagle
and Houston would have plenty to talk about during the landing attempt. Sure enough, it wasn't long before I could hear Neil telling Houston his computer was acting strangely, and Houston promptly replied that he should continue toward a landing. Buzz was calling off numbers to Neil, so that Neil could devote all his attention to looking out the window. The most important numbers were altitude (in feet above the surface) and descent rate (in feet per second). “Six hundred feet, down at nineteen ⦠Four hundred feet, down at nine ⦠Three hundred feet ⦠Watch our shadow out there,” called Buzz, repeating new numbers every few seconds. He also reported they had only 5 percent of their fuel remaining, which wasn't much. I started getting nervous. “Forty feet, down two and a half, kicking up some dust.” Well, at least the dust didn't seem to be a big problem, that was good. “Thirty seconds!” said Houston, meaning that they had only thirty seconds' worth of fuel remaining. Better get it on the ground, Neil! Suddenly Buzz shouted: “Contact light!” and I knew they were down. The lunar module had a wire dangling below one landing gear. When it touched the moon, it caused a light on the instrument panel to light, so that Neil would know he was just about to touch down. As soon as he did, he called: “Houston, Tranquility Base here, the
Eagle
has landed.” Whew! I breathed a big sigh of relief. Neil then explained why he had nearly run out of gas. The computer-controlled descent was taking
Eagle
into an area covered with huge boulders, and Neil had to keep flying until he found a smoother spot to land.
As good as that computer was, it took the eyes of the pilot to pick the best landing spot.
For the next couple of orbits, I tried very hard to spot
Eagle
through my sextant, but I was unable to find it. The problem was that no one knew exactly where Neil had landed, and I didn't know which way to look for them. Oh, I knew approximately where they were, but the sextant had a narrow field of view, like looking down a rifle barrel, and I needed to know exactly which way to point it.
Eagle
through my sextant, but I was unable to find it. The problem was that no one knew exactly where Neil had landed, and I didn't know which way to look for them. Oh, I knew approximately where they were, but the sextant had a narrow field of view, like looking down a rifle barrel, and I needed to know exactly which way to point it.
Other than not being able to find Neil and Buzz, everything was going very well with me. I had turned up the lights inside
Columbia,
and it seemed like a happy place. Also big, for a change, with only me inside it. I didn't feel lonely or left out, because I knew my job was very important, and that Neil and Buzz could never get home without me. I was proud of the way
Columbia
and I were circling above them, waiting for their return. I felt like the basecamp operator on a mountain-climbing expedition. I suppose one reason I didn't feel lonely was that I had been flying airplanes by myself for nearly twenty years. This time, however, I had to admit that it was a bit different, especially on the far side of the moon. There, cut off from all communication, I was truly alone, the only person in the solar system who could not even see the planet of his birth. Far from causing fear, this situation gave me a good feelingâone of confidence and satisfaction. Outside my window I could see stars, and nothing else. I knew where the moon was, but in the total darkness, its surface was not visible: it was simply that part of my window which had no stars in it. The feeling was less like flying than like being
alone in a boat on the ocean at night. Stars above, pure black below. At dawn, light filled my windows so quickly that my eyes hurt. Almost immediately, the stars disappeared and the moon reappeared. I knew from my clock that the earth was about to reappear, and right on schedule it popped into view, rising like a blue and white jewel over the desolate lunar horizon.
Columbia,
and it seemed like a happy place. Also big, for a change, with only me inside it. I didn't feel lonely or left out, because I knew my job was very important, and that Neil and Buzz could never get home without me. I was proud of the way
Columbia
and I were circling above them, waiting for their return. I felt like the basecamp operator on a mountain-climbing expedition. I suppose one reason I didn't feel lonely was that I had been flying airplanes by myself for nearly twenty years. This time, however, I had to admit that it was a bit different, especially on the far side of the moon. There, cut off from all communication, I was truly alone, the only person in the solar system who could not even see the planet of his birth. Far from causing fear, this situation gave me a good feelingâone of confidence and satisfaction. Outside my window I could see stars, and nothing else. I knew where the moon was, but in the total darkness, its surface was not visible: it was simply that part of my window which had no stars in it. The feeling was less like flying than like being
alone in a boat on the ocean at night. Stars above, pure black below. At dawn, light filled my windows so quickly that my eyes hurt. Almost immediately, the stars disappeared and the moon reappeared. I knew from my clock that the earth was about to reappear, and right on schedule it popped into view, rising like a blue and white jewel over the desolate lunar horizon.
As soon as the earth reappeared, I could once more talk on my radio, and I found out from Houston that all was going well with Neil and Buzz. They had decided to skip a scheduled four-hour nap and instead began exploring right away. Neil, first down the ladder and therefore the first human to step on another planet, found he had no difficulty at all in walking on the moon. The surface was level and solid and firm, and he easily kept his balance in the strange gravitational field where everything weighed only one sixth its earth weight. I could hear what they were saying because Houston relayed their calls to me. It was a bit unusual, though, because even traveling at the speed of light, it took two and a half seconds for the radio signals to go from
Eagle
to the earth and then back to
Columbia
. If they said something to me, they had to wait at least five seconds for an answer. When I was overhead of their position, I could talk to them directly, but the rest of the time that I was on the front side of the moon, the relay procedure was necessary. When I was on the back side, I couldn't talk to anyone.
Eagle
to the earth and then back to
Columbia
. If they said something to me, they had to wait at least five seconds for an answer. When I was overhead of their position, I could talk to them directly, but the rest of the time that I was on the front side of the moon, the relay procedure was necessary. When I was on the back side, I couldn't talk to anyone.
They hadn't been out on the surface very long when the three of us got a big surprise. The President of the United States began talking on the radio! Mr. Nixon told them: “Neil and Buzz, I am talking to you by telephone
from the Oval Office at the White House, and this certainly has to be the most historic telephone call ever made ⦠Because of what you have done, the heavens have become a part of man's world. As you talk to us from the Sea of Tranquility, it inspires us to redouble our efforts to bring peace and tranquility to Earth.” Neil replied that he was honored and privileged to be on the moon, representing the United States and men of peace from all nations. I felt proud to be representing my country, and I was glad that Neil and Buzz had planted an American flag on the moon. Now I just wanted them to collect their rocks and get back on up here to
Columbia.
They really sounded good on the surface, not tired at all, but I was still relieved when they got back inside
Eagle
and got the door locked. That was another big hurdle behind us, and none of us, we hoped, would need our pressure suits again. In the meantime, we were scheduled to sleep for a few hours, so that we would be fresh for the complicated rendezvous.
from the Oval Office at the White House, and this certainly has to be the most historic telephone call ever made ⦠Because of what you have done, the heavens have become a part of man's world. As you talk to us from the Sea of Tranquility, it inspires us to redouble our efforts to bring peace and tranquility to Earth.” Neil replied that he was honored and privileged to be on the moon, representing the United States and men of peace from all nations. I felt proud to be representing my country, and I was glad that Neil and Buzz had planted an American flag on the moon. Now I just wanted them to collect their rocks and get back on up here to
Columbia.
They really sounded good on the surface, not tired at all, but I was still relieved when they got back inside
Eagle
and got the door locked. That was another big hurdle behind us, and none of us, we hoped, would need our pressure suits again. In the meantime, we were scheduled to sleep for a few hours, so that we would be fresh for the complicated rendezvous.
I know Neil and Buzz didn't sleep very well, cramped on the narrow floor of
Eagle
, but I had a good rest in
Columbia
. I blocked out all the light by putting shades over the windows, and I trusted the experts in Houston to watch over my equipment while I was asleep. Of course, if anything went wrong on the far side of the moon no one could help me, but on the front side Houston could tell from
Columbia'
s electronic signals whether most things were working properly or not. If trouble developed, they could call me on the radio and wake me up. Reassured by this, I slept like a log, until I heard a voice in my ear, calling over and over again: “
Columbia, Columbia,
good morning from Houston.” “Hi, Ron,” I replied groggily. It was Ron Evans,
an astronaut who would later fly to the moon on the final Apollo flight. Ron told me it was going to be a busy day, which I knew already, and then he proved it by giving me a long list of things to do to prepare for the rendezvous. As the day wore on, I knew I would be expected to perform approximately 850 computer-button pushes alone. If everything went well with
Eagle
, I knew precisely what to do, because I had practiced over and over again in the simulator, but if I had to go rescue
Eagle
from some lopsided orbit, then things could get awfully complicated in a big hurry. I had a book around my neck, fastened by a clip to my pressure suit, which contained procedures for eighteen different types of rendezvous that I might need.
Eagle
, but I had a good rest in
Columbia
. I blocked out all the light by putting shades over the windows, and I trusted the experts in Houston to watch over my equipment while I was asleep. Of course, if anything went wrong on the far side of the moon no one could help me, but on the front side Houston could tell from
Columbia'
s electronic signals whether most things were working properly or not. If trouble developed, they could call me on the radio and wake me up. Reassured by this, I slept like a log, until I heard a voice in my ear, calling over and over again: “
Columbia, Columbia,
good morning from Houston.” “Hi, Ron,” I replied groggily. It was Ron Evans,
an astronaut who would later fly to the moon on the final Apollo flight. Ron told me it was going to be a busy day, which I knew already, and then he proved it by giving me a long list of things to do to prepare for the rendezvous. As the day wore on, I knew I would be expected to perform approximately 850 computer-button pushes alone. If everything went well with
Eagle
, I knew precisely what to do, because I had practiced over and over again in the simulator, but if I had to go rescue
Eagle
from some lopsided orbit, then things could get awfully complicated in a big hurry. I had a book around my neck, fastened by a clip to my pressure suit, which contained procedures for eighteen different types of rendezvous that I might need.
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