Earthrise (9 page)

It was an extremely difficult time waiting and watching and hoping for the astronauts’ return. People all over the world were praying for the three men, and I believe it helped. When I saw the Command Module’s bright orange and white striped parachutes open before the capsule plunged into the sea, I felt so relieved. It was finally clear the astronauts had made it home.

Although Apollo 13 never landed on the Moon, the mission was deemed a “successful failure” because the astronauts had returned home safely.

Next on the lineup was my Apollo 14 mission. We were scheduled to head to the Moon just about nine months after Apollo 13 had launched.

Yes, we had a solid crew with Alan Shepard as Commander, Stu Roosa as Command Module Pilot, and I was Lunar Module Pilot. We’d all trained and worked together for years, and we were all experienced and accomplished military men. Alan had earned the rank of rear admiral in the navy, Stu was a colonel in the air force, and I was a captain in the navy. But it was impossible not to think about what might go wrong. I knew that two missions had already made it to the Moon and four men had already walked on the Moon. But would we be able to follow in their footsteps? Or would our spacecraft malfunction like Apollo 13?

A Super Long Shot

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

—Mark Twain

I
t was finally time for the Apollo 14 mission to head to the Moon. Our entire trip would last nine days, from January 31 to February 9, 1971. It would take about four days to get to the Moon, two days to work on the lunar surface, and three days to get back home.

All the Apollo Moon missions had backup crews, and ours was made up of astronauts Gene Cernan (Commander), Ron Evans (Command Module Pilot), and Joe Engle (Lunar Module Pilot).

Our Spacecraft

Flying to the Moon was a risky venture, especially since it is a quarter of a million miles away from Earth. To get there, Alan, Stu, and I would ride the massive Saturn V, which was the largest, heaviest, most powerful rocket ever launched on Earth. Standing nearly 363 feet tall (about 60 feet taller than the Statue of Liberty), the rocket weighed about 3,000 tons before liftoff.

Considered one of the most amazing engineering feats of the 20th century, the Saturn V had five engines and used millions of pounds of liquid fuel to thrust our spacecraft into orbit and send it to the Moon. This rocket was launched 13 times from 1967 to 1973 and carried all the Apollo astronauts into space. The final Saturn V launch put Skylab, America’s first space station, into orbit in 1973.

Our primary spacecraft, the Kitty Hawk Command Module, was the only part of our entire spacecraft that returned to Earth. This cone-shaped craft was about 13 feet wide and 11 and a half feet tall, and it had five windows and two hatches. Alan, Stu, and I sat in three individual crew stations that were designed as curved couch-like seats, and this is where we piloted the craft, communicated with Mission Control, worked, and ate our meals. We slept in hammocks that were located about one foot beneath our couches. All of our supplies, food, clothing, and the basic equipment we’d need was carefully packed into the walls of the Kitty Hawk.

Another crucial part of our spacecraft was called the Service Module, which was about 13 feet wide and 24 and a half feet long. This cylindrical craft was our basic storehouse for our service and life supporting power systems, and it carried vital supplies such as our oxygen, fuel cells for generating electricity, and necessary fuel tanks. The Service Module was directly connected to the Command Module and referred to as the Command/Service Module, or CSM. Just before splashdown, the Service Module would be jettisoned as the Command Module zoomed to Earth protected by a lifesaving heat shield that could withstand the extremely hot temperatures of reentry.

The Antares Lunar Module was designed with a descent and an ascent stage so that Alan and I could fly down to the Moon and then back up to the Command Module. This meant that the spacecraft needed to have two distinct portions. The upper part of the Antares was where Alan and I would pilot the craft, eat, and sleep while we worked on the Moon. This upper part also housed all of our important life support systems, including guidance and navigation, communications, environmental air control, electrical power, and propulsion.

The lower part of the Antares had four legs with pads for landing, storage bays for equipment, and a ladder so we could climb down to the lunar surface. It held our scientific equipment, a propulsion system, electrical power, water, and oxygen. This lower part would also act as our launch platform so we could lift off and fly back up to the Command Module.

The Bug Barricade and Send-off

Nobody wanted to go way up in space and come down with the flu. So, for three weeks before launch, Alan, Stu, and I were quarantined in biologically sealed crew quarters at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. We wanted to avoid catching any germs or bugs from the outside world.

The quarantine area looked like a modest apartment complete with a kitchen, bedrooms, and a living room. We were isolated from most other people and even our families. If we did interact with anyone working on the mission, we’d always have to wear protective biological masks.

But we weren’t just sitting around for three weeks watching TV and waiting to fly. Our days were very busy as we rehearsed all of our flight procedures. The three of us would head over to a nearby building and practice launch and inflight maneuvers in the Command Module simulator. For a great deal of the time, Alan and I practiced different maneuvers in the Lunar Module simulator. These simulators gave us an exciting view of things to come because we could see actual scenes of space and the lunar surface we were about to visit.

When liftoff was just around the corner, it was time to say good-bye to our families. Louise, Karlyn, and Elizabeth flew in from Houston to see me off. But it was a strange and cold farewell without any hugs or kisses. I was still in quarantine, so the four of us had to say good-bye behind a large glass window. Fortunately, there was a sound system so we could communicate.

Family members of the other astronauts were also behind the glass window along with a few dignitaries and celebrities such as Henry Kissinger, who was President Nixon’s national security advisor at the time, and actor Kirk Douglas. Elizabeth was overjoyed to see the actor and said, “Oh, Mr. Douglas, I thought you were great in
Spartacus!”
I couldn’t help but smile.

T-Minus and Counting!

Launch day arrived, and Alan, Stu, and I were feeling the nervous excitement an athlete might feel before a big football game or a musician might feel before a big performance. We were ready to go and now it was time to play.

That morning we had one last checkup by the medical team before having the traditional astronaut send-off breakfast of steak, eggs, and toast with Deke Slayton, our chief astronaut for the mission, and our backup crew.

Later in the day it was time to suit up. We went to a sanitized area that looked like a laboratory where technicians placed medical devices on our chests that would continually monitor our breathing and heart rate throughout the mission. Next, we put on and zipped up our bulky spacesuits before putting on our helmets and boots. Each one of us also got a handheld oxygen canister so we could breathe with our helmets on.

Now suited up, Alan, Stu, and I rode over to Pad A at Launch Complex 39, in the white NASA minivan. Once we got out of the van I looked over at the enormous rocket towering right in front of us. It was gigantic. I could hear the rocket hissing and rumbling, and it reminded me of an enormous upright steam train waiting at the station, ready to go.

The three of us took the long ride up on the launch pad elevator to our spacecraft sitting at the top of the Saturn V. After stepping out onto a grated catwalk, I looked down at the ground below and could see the beautiful Atlantic Ocean and the pretty white beaches of the Florida coastline. I couldn’t believe how high we were. We then headed into an area called the White Room where we reviewed final preparations, put on our escape harnesses, and climbed into the Command Module.

It was great to see astronaut Tom Stafford waiting for us in the White Room. Tom was chief of the Manned Spacecraft Center astronaut office and was there to help with last-minute details. We also met up with our launch pad leader, Guenter Wendt, and his crew, who helped us get into our spacecraft. Guenter liked to wear a bowtie and carry a clipboard, and he was there for all the manned spaceflights. He was also the last person we saw before heading into space.

Climbing into the Kitty Hawk

Guenter had an easygoing nature and made everyone’s job easier. As a joke, he handed Alan a cane because Alan was the oldest astronaut to fly to the Moon. This lightheartedness helped relieve some of the natural tension we were all feeling. We took our seats in the Command Module and Guenter’s technicians helped buckle us in. We were literally shoulder-to-shoulder now and lying on our backs because the rocket was pointing upward. I sat on the right side of the Command Module, Stu sat in the center seat, and Alan sat on the left side.

We all had specific tasks during the mission. Alan and Stu were responsible for piloting the spacecraft. As systems engineer, my duties included monitoring our power supply and air pressure, and overseeing all the instruments on the right side of the cockpit that measured the spacecraft’s functions.

“Godspeed to you all!” Guenter said, smiling broadly. Then, without another word, he shut our hatch with a loud thud and locked it. At last it was just the three of us. We didn’t just take off; we had about two hours before launch. Alan, Stu, and I anxiously awaited countdown.

Unfortunately, countdown was delayed. An afternoon thunderstorm was brewing, so Mission Control wanted us to hold off and let the storm pass. Of course it was hard to wait because we were so pumped up to fly. But we knew NASA was being cautious. Lightning could be big trouble. I immediately remembered the problem the Apollo 12 team had during launch. Lightning had hit their rocket during liftoff and shut down some of their most important systems. Fortunately, as their rocket surged into space, the astronauts were able to correct the problem and their mission turned out to be a big success.

But sitting in our cramped, dark, and cold Command Module with a weather delay was rough. I chatted with Alan and Stu and tried to stay positive, not knowing how long the storm would last. I focused on rehearsing our launch sequence. But then I started to think about Louise and the girls sitting in the bleachers anxiously waiting for liftoff. I wondered how they were doing and if they were getting soaked by any rain. I thought about my mom and dad, Sandra and Jay, my grandparents, little Oscar, and the thousands of people watching our launch.

And then I just dozed off for a little while.

After 40 minutes the skies cleared, and we were finally cleared to go. Hearing countdown was incredible. I could feel the tremendous rush of excitement. “15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8 … initial sequence start … 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0. Launch commit. LIFTOFF!”

And suddenly we had liftoff at exactly 4:03
PM
on that amazing Sunday afternoon.

As our rocket ignited, gigantic orange clouds and white-hot fiery flames blasted from the five engines, sending us straight up amidst a powerful and deafening roar.

“Beautiful,” Alan said.

“Go, baby, go!” Stu called out.

“She’s going, she’s going,” I added. “Everything’s good.”

It took a lot of force to lift our extremely heavy rocket up from the launch pad and out into orbit. Inside our Command Module, however, it seemed eerily quiet. With our helmets on we could only hear communication from Mission Control and each other. As we lifted I felt some pressure push against my chest and back, but I focused on everything I was supposed to do and did it. Once again I remembered Grandpa Bull’s reassuring words,
Steady as she goes, Edgar. Steady as she goes.

Capsule Communicator

During our entire mission, Alan, Stu, and I were in constant communication with the Capsule Communicator, more commonly known as the CAPCOM, who was stationed at Mission Control Center in Houston during flight and reentry. Typically, the CAPCOM was one of the support crew astronauts or one of the backup crew astronauts. Because our mission lasted nine days, we had a number of different CAPCOMS including Fred Haise (we liked to call him “Freddo”), who was the Lunar Module (LM) Checkout and Separation CAP-COM; Bruce McCandless, the Lunar Landing and Extravehicular Activity-1 CAPCOM; and Gordon Fullerton (nicknamed “Gordo”), who served as the Planning Shift CAPCOM. Deke Slayton would sometimes take over as CAPCOM, as would our backup crew astronauts.