Earthrise (17 page)

What a beauty,
I thought.
What a beauty.

I crawled into the spacecraft and Alan followed shortly thereafter. Although it wasn’t easy to leave, both of us were eager to see Stu again, and head back home.

LUNAR PLAQUES

Apollo Moon Missions 11, 12, 14, 15, 16, and 17 left honorary seven-by-nine-inch stainless steel plaques on the Moon. These plaques were attached to the landing gear of the lower part of the Lunar Modules and will remain on the Moon for all time. The first Apollo 11 Moon mission plaque was signed by astronauts Neil A. Armstrong, Michael Collins, Edwin E. Aldrin Jr., and Richard Nixon, President, United States of America. The plaque reads:

HERE MEN FROM THE PLANET EARTH

FIRST SET FOOT UPON THE MOON

JULY 1969, A.D.

WE CAME IN PEACE FOR ALL MANKIND

The Apollo 14 plaque was signed by astronauts Alan B. Shepard Jr., Stuart A. Roosa, and Edgar D. Mitchell, and reads:

APOLLO 14

ANTARES

FEBRUARY 1971

The Extraordinary Ride Home

“ … a dream that became a reality and spread throughout the stars”

—Captain Kirk,
Star Trek

C
overed in a light layer of Moon dust, Alan and I stood at the controls of the Antares. We were busy reviewing our flight procedures and getting ready for lunar liftoff. Everything seemed in order.

But then an uncomfortable thought occurred to me.
What if ignition doesn’t work?
I knew ignition failure was a remote possibility, but with any technology, problems can occur. We certainly didn’t want to be stuck on the Moon because once our oxygen was depleted, our lives would end in a very short amount of time. We also knew that if something went wrong, we would be completely on our own because Stu wouldn’t be able to fly the Kitty Hawk down here to get us.

Fortunately, there were plenty of backup procedures that Alan and I had trained for. We never wanted to be caught by surprise and not know how to handle a situation.

I looked at Alan and wondered if he was thinking the same thing. But neither of us said a word. And then, I was suddenly distracted by the loud voice of the CAPCOM. “We’re coming up now on 10 minutes until lunar liftoff.” I was glad to hear his words.

Think positive,
I thought. In 10 minutes we’d be lifting off from the Moon and heading toward Stu. In my mind’s eye I could see myself sitting in the Command Module again, and that was reassuring.

“Antares, Houston. We’re coming up on four minutes,” Mission Control said. “Stand by. Mark four minutes.” The minutes passed quickly.

“Okay, the abort stage is set and the ascent engine is armed,” Alan said. “Six, five, four, three, two, one … “

“Ignition!” I called out.

Our ascent engine powered up just as it was supposed to.
Great. Excellent,
I thought.

I could feel a powerful surge and a jolt as the upper “ascent” half of the Antares lifted up and separated from the bottom “descent” half of the craft that was now playing a crucial role as our launch pad. Our craft started to rise up, up, and away from the Moon, and we would slowly and gradually pitch over from a vertical position to a horizontal one as we approached Stu’s orbital altitude.

“What a liftoff,” I said. I felt partly relieved, but mostly thrilled.

We then began a critical procedure called a “direct rendezvous trajectory” that flew us directly up to Stu. Stu was flying the Kitty Hawk around the Moon in the higher orbit above the lunar surface. Once we were in Stu’s orbit, we would then fly right behind him and eventually reconnect the Antares with the Kitty Hawk. That is, if everything went as planned.

Our primary goals at this point were to fly up to Stu, reconnect our two spacecraft, and head back to Earth. Of course, Mission Control, Alan, Stu, and I all had one overriding concern—would the Antares be able to dock with the Kitty Hawk? We’d had so much trouble docking six days earlier and we absolutely couldn’t afford this problem now. We knew we had to make this procedure work. Stu was our ride home.

As our two spaceships got closer, Stu spotted us and it was obvious he was happy about it. “What are you doing way down there, oh fearless ones?” he joked. “You’ve lost a little weight since the last time I saw you.”

Stu had a fun-loving sense of humor and we got a big kick out of his antics. He was making light of the fact that we had left the lower part of the Antares on the Moon after it completed its job as our launching pad.

Alan and I could also see the Kitty Hawk out our window as we approached it. “Oh, you look good,” Alan said.

Then, when we were very close to the Kitty Hawk, Stu rotated the entire craft in a large 360-degree loop so Alan and I could inspect it for any telltale signs of trouble.

“And around we go,” Stu said.

“That’s our home away from home,” I added. It was so great to see the Kitty Hawk up close again. Alan and I didn’t see any problems with the craft.

Then we heard Mission Control give us the go-ahead.

“Apollo 14, this is Houston. You’re go for the docking.”

Slowly and very smoothly, the Antares matched speeds and moved in to dock with the Kitty Hawk. We held our breath and hoped for the best.

Then with a snap, snap, and a few clicks, we connected.

“Okay, we capture,” I said loudly and clearly.

This time, we didn’t need to try and try again; we connected right away. However, in the event we couldn’t connect, we did have an extravehicular maneuver where Alan and I would have crawled outside the Lunar Module in space, then crawled inside the Command Module. But this was an extremely dangerous backup plan, and we were glad we didn’t need to use it.

“Beautiful,” the CAPCOM replied. “There’s a big sigh of relief being breathed around here.”

“And all over the world,” Stu added.

Knock, Knock

Still covered in dust, Alan and I looked a bit like cowboys coming home after a long, hard day on the range. We knew Stu wouldn’t be thrilled about it; he’d been living alone in the spotless and sanitary Command Module for the past few days. But Alan and I couldn’t wait to crawl back into the Kitty Hawk. Alan got right up to the Lunar Module hatch and knocked a few times to let Stu know we were ready to come in.

“Who’s there?” Stu joked.

Stu then opened the door and we climbed in. Without wasting even a minute, we cleaned off as best we could. We then took off our bulky spacesuits and put on our lightweight coveralls. What a relief that was.

But it wasn’t quite time to sit back and relax. For the next hour or so, Alan, Stu, and I worked hard to transfer all of our rock samples, cameras, and experimental data from the Lunar Module to the Command Module.

When this work was done, we shut and locked the hatch for one last time. We said good-bye to our trusty, bug-like Antares, which we then jettisoned to crash back on the Moon to create a small “Moonquake.” The Antares was never designed to return to Earth, but it played an important role until its very end. Once the Antares crashed at a predetermined location on the Moon, the seismic signals were picked up by the seismometer Alan and I had placed on the lunar surface, as well as a seismometer that had been left by the Apollo 12 astronauts. This data provided more information about the interior structure of the Moon.

Alan and I took our seats again in the Command Module and buckled ourselves in. Now it was time to head back to Earth. I was sure looking forward to a home-cooked meal with my family, and I knew there’d be many great stories to share. But we needed a big boost to send us on our way. When we were on the far side of the Moon again, our engines ignited in a “trans-Earth injection” sequence. This thrust gave us plenty of power to blast us all the way home.

Last Leg of the Journey

After a few hours of work, and a dinner of ham and potatoes in a bag and eight ounces of grapefruit juice, my sleep hammock was starting to look very inviting. I was tired to the bone and anxious to get some rest. Alan and I both needed sleep and were able to nod off in no time at all.

The next morning Mission Control woke us up. “How are you all this morning?” The CAPCOM sounded chipper as ever.

“Really great, really great.” I said. “How are things there?”

“Beautiful. Everybody’s relaxed down here and anticipating your arrival on schedule.”

Alan, Stu, and I felt the same. We had worked very hard on our lunar mission and accomplished what we set out to do. We were all in good spirits.

The Kitty Hawk stayed on its steady course and moved along at a speed that increased from about 3,500 feet per second to 6,500 feet per second. This is fast considering that there are 5,280 feet per mile. At times we were traveling nearly one mile per second.

At this point in the journey everyone’s duties were lighter and we were all unwinding. It felt great. I started to reflect on everything I had just experienced over the last six days. I thought about our launch and the thunderstorm delay. I recalled the many frustrating attempts we had made trying to dock our spacecraft at the start of the mission. I remembered the scare with the abort light and radar during our lunar landing. And of course I replayed every moment of our two Moonwalks: walking around the alien lunar surface, setting up and conducting the science experiments, and hiking toward Cone Crater.

There were thousands of things to think about. But what I remembered most was the first time I set eyes on Earth from deep space on our way to the Moon. It was a powerful experience and a beautiful sight to behold.

In preparation for our return, Mission Control gave us an update on current events. We heard about an earthquake near the Aleutian Islands of Alaska. We found out that a radio station in Moberly, Missouri, had tried to place a prank phone call to talk with us when we were on the Moon. And we learned that Golden Globe Awards went to actor George C. Scott for his lead role in the movie
Patton
and to Ali MacGraw for her lead role in the movie
Love Story.

Sometimes Mission Control would play us tunes from films such as
Camelot.
We even had a deep-space news conference while flying home. Mission Control linked us in with reporters who asked detailed questions about our mission and Moonwalks. I thought this was an interesting aspect of our work. When we were about halfway home, we heard that someone had sent a bouquet of red roses to Mission Control on behalf of our return to Earth.

What in the World?

The ride home was absolutely remarkable and I’ll never forget it.

On two of the nights, I conducted two more of my ESP experiments as I had planned. But during the day, when I had more time to sit back and relax, I enjoyed peering out my window and taking in the sights. I truly felt like a cosmic sightseer.

And then something extraordinary happened to me.

As our spacecraft headed toward Earth, it was constantly rotating in the barbecue mode as it had done on the way to the Moon. These slow rotations protected the craft, but they also gave me a spectacular view. As we turned, I was able to see a breathtaking 360-degree panorama of the heavens with the Earth, the Moon, the Sun, and the many glistening stars passing by the window. And because there’s no atmosphere in space, everything looked 10 times brighter than on Earth.

It was a fantastic sight—I knew I had a ringside seat to one of the greatest shows of the universe.

Pretty soon I was hooked and couldn’t take my eyes off the view. And then, all at once, a wonderful feeling washed over me from head to toe. It was an amazing, joyful sensation, and I guess you could say it was
out of this world.

On top of all the good feelings I was experiencing, I suddenly had a moment of deep insight. It was an overwhelming realization that my body and mind were connected to everything in the universe. I felt a deep, deep connection with all of life and a sense of oneness with the cosmos.