Journey to the Stars

I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the Moon and returning him safely to Earth. No single space project in this period will be more impressive to mankind, or more important in the long-range exploration of space; and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish.

-- President John Kennedy May 25, 1961

The US and the USSR were locked in a power struggle for world influence in the Cold War. The height of their muscle-flexing came in the late 1950s when in October 1957 the Soviet Union launched the beach ball-sized Sputnik I, the first man-made object in space, followed by the earth orbit in April 1961 of Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space. American prestige was at stake. From the outset, therefore, the race to space, landing on the moon, and the journey to the planets was more about politics than science.

In November 1962, President Kennedy, Vice President Johnson, and advisors met with the administrator James Webb of NASA, the organization created by Congress in October 1958. Kennedy made it clear that he thought landing a man on the moon should be the top priority of NASA. Webb made it clear that a moon landing was one of the NASA priorities, but not the top priority for him. We know from audio tapes of the meeting that Kennedy told Webb to adjust his priorities because, "This is important for political reasons, international political reasons. This is, whether we like it or not, an intensive race."

Notwithstanding the conflation of science and politics, Webb expressed grave concerns about the survivability of a moon landing and the ability to get back. "We don't know anything about the surface of the moon," Webb said, respectfully instructing the scientifically-challenged President that a lot of basic research was needed before manned exploration could make the US preeminent in space. 

On July 20, 1969 Neil Armstrong was the first human to make a footprint on the lunar surface – beating the end-of-the-decade goal set by the then-dead Kennedy by five months. Before the lunar missions ended in 1972, 12 Americans had left their footprints on the lunar surface.

Neil Armstrong grew up on a farm in western Ohio. Twenty-five years before he was born, Orville and Wilbur Wright had experimented with manned flight about 60 miles from the Armstrong farm. Decades later Neil and his dad took their first flight together in a tri-motor Ford “Tin Goose” in 1936 when Neil was just six years old. From then on, flying was in his bloodstream. He was licensed to fly at 16 before he was licensed to drive.

Armstrong enrolled in Purdue University and studied aeronautical engineering on a Navy scholarship. But he was called to duty in 1949 at the outbreak of the Korean War where he learned combat flying. He flew 78 combat missions, one of them requiring him to eject after receiving flak damage during a low altitude bombing run. His squadron, ejection, and chopper rescue were the inspiration for author James Michener’s book, and later the film, The Bridges at Toko-Ri.

Resigning from the Navy after the war, Armstrong returned to Purdue to finish his engineering degree. After that he entered the test pilot program with the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, and later earned a Master’s degree from the University of Southern California. For NACA he flew more than 200 kinds of aircraft from gliders to jets and more than once cheated death in these advanced design planes. But he became a crack test pilot, helped by his unflappable nature and nerves of steel.

While Armstrong was a student at Purdue, Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier in the rocket powered Bell X-1. Therefore, Armstrong was convinced that he had been born a generation too late and that aviation history was passing him by. But his service as a NACA test pilot gave him the opportunity to fly the rocket-powered X-15, making more than seven flights in it at 4,000 miles per hour – far faster than Yeager. His fellow pilots considered him to be the best of the best, one of them saying he “had a mind that absorbed things like a sponge and a memory that remembered them like a photograph.”

Barely 30 years old with a soaring career as the test pilot that put him in line to fly the most sophisticated and dangerous aircraft ever designed, Armstrong learned that the newly-formed NASA was accepting applications for a second group of astronauts – the first seven Mercury astronauts had been chosen – and despite being a civilian, his test pilot reputation assured his acceptance.

Armstrong began training for the two-person Gemini spacecraft, the successor to the one-pilot Mercury program and the precursor to the three-person Apollo spacecraft. He was the first American civilian to fly in space. With co-pilot David Scott they flew a space mission in 1966 that was to link up to an unmanned Agena target vehicle in a maneuver that would be essential in later flights. Once docked, however, the two vehicles began to roll uncontrollably. Stabilization was impossible and Mission Control told Armstrong to separate from the Agena. Once apart, the Gemini rolled even more to the point that both pilots were about to lose consciousness when Armstrong turned off the Gemini control thrusters and switched to the reentry control system, which restored stability but forced the mission to be cut short after one day in orbit. An emergency landing in the Pacific brought both pilots back to earth safely.

The Apollo 8 mission was the first to leave earth orbit for a circumlunar mission to the moon. Its launch date was December 21, 1968. Commander Frank Borman, Command Module Pilot Jim Lovell, and Lunar Module Pilot Bill Anders, the crew that flew Apollo 8, were the first humans to see the always-hidden backside of the moon – also a scary time initially because there was a communication blackout with earth while Apollo was behind the moon which wasn’t restored until it emerged in orbit. And, they were the first humans to see the “earthrise” over the lunar surface during each of their ten orbits, one of which was captured in the famous rising “blue marble” photo. As they orbited on Christmas Eve, many of us remember being glued to television sets as Borman, Lovell, and Anders read passages from Genesis in the most watched television broadcast at that time.

Apollo 9 was the next mission – an earth orbit “dress rehearsal” for a moon landing – and it was followed by Apollo 10, the circumlunar “dress rehearsal” which called for the Lunar Module to separate from the Command Module and fly within eight miles of the lunar surface before returning to the Command Module for the trip home.

The crew of the Apollo 11 mission was not chosen because they were the most elite pilots of the astronaut corps. All astronauts trained to fill any mission and the purpose of the Apollo missions was to collectively put men on the lunar surface regardless who they were. The January 1967 launch pad fire that killed three astronauts changed the order of the flight roster. Moreover, the original plan for Apollo 10 to land on the moon was scrubbed due to delays in the development of the Lunar Module, limiting its flight to a fly-over without a touchdown on the surface. Therefore, unplanned events combined to put the crew of Apollo 11 next on the flight roster in the lunar missions. Apollo 11 would fly the first full-scale lunar touchdown mission with Neil Armstrong as Commander, Ed “Buzz” Aldrin as Lunar Module Pilot, and Michael Collins as Command Module Pilot. NASA decided that, as Mission Commander, Armstrong would be the first human to touch the lunar surface.

In order to give the crews training in flying the Lunar Module, NASA commissioned the construction of a Lunar Module trainer, which the astronauts dubbed the “Flying Bedstead.” A turbofan was used to support 5/6^ths of the contraption’s weight in an effort to simulate the gravity of the moon, which is 1/6^th that of the earth. In a test flight with Armstrong at the controls, as he was maneuvering 100 feet above ground, the steering controls failed causing the trainer to bank dangerously. Armstrong ejected after realizing he couldn’t control flight attitude, and the “Bedstead” plunged to earth and exploded. Had Armstrong ejected a half-second later, there wouldn’t have been enough altitude for his parachute to open. Yet once on the ground, Armstrong dusted himself off and returned to his office for the rest of the day to finish paperwork.

His icy self-control in emergency situations served Armstrong well during the descent to the lunar surface of the Apollo 11 mission. The landing area was the curiously-named crater called the Sea of Tranquility. But during the descent Armstrong and Aldrin saw boulders scattered about the landing zone making the possibility of touchdown anything but tranquil. With terrain radar alarms sounding off, Armstrong took control away from the landing computer and hand flew the Lunar Module across the lunar surface in search of a suitable touchdown spot. When he found it and landed, there was only 25 seconds of fuel remaining in the tanks. The worst mission nightmare – a damaged Lunar Module that couldn’t have rejoined Michael Collins orbiting 60 miles above them – had been averted.

"Houston: Tranquility Base here," Armstrong calmly radioed earth after the spacecraft was firmly on the lunar surface. "The Eagle has landed."

"Roger, Tranquility," Houston answered. "We copy you on the ground. You've got a bunch of guys about to turn blue. We're breathing again. Thanks a lot."

The historic moment came about six and a half hours after landing when Armstrong, bundled up as if he was about to step into a snow storm, descended the Lunar Module ladder, and touching the lunar surface said, “That’s one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.“  Later Armstrong said the “a” was garbled in his transmission. His statement – historic as he knew it would be – had no doubt been given considerable thought before the landing. His intention, he said, was to underplay the significance of his individual role and recognize the monumental achievement of the human race, which he represented in moon landing.  

That was vintage Armstrong. His engineer’s reserve plus a natural shyness combined to make him appear to others almost Spock-like. Crewmate Michael Collins observed that “Neil never transmits anything but the surface layer, and that only sparingly.” Yet, recalled Aldrin, “there was that moment on the moon, a brief moment, in which we sort of looked at each other and slapped each other on the shoulder ... and said, `We made it. Good show,' or something like that."

As 600 million people – a fifth of the world’s population – watched by television, their moonwalk lasted about two and a half hours during which they bounded about the nearby surface, testing how it was to walk in 1/6^th of the earth’s gravity. They set up cameras and scientific instruments, collected rock samples, and placed a plaque that read “Here men from the planet Earth first set foot upon the moon. July 1969 A.D. We came in peace for all mankind.”

After their to earth, Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins received heroes’ parades, awards, and career offers. The accolades made them uncomfortable. Aldrin would later struggle for 15 years with alcoholism and depression before getting his life back under control. The Apollo 11 crew always told admirers that their accomplishment was the tip of an iceberg which had engaged hundreds of thousands of engineers, scientists, mathematicians, and technicians which made their mission possible. This was more than modesty. At the apogee of its achievements, NASA and its contractors employed about 400,000 people and spent about 4.4% of the federal budget. Still, their achievement continued to draw attention even as subsequent lunar missions paled to the point of commonplace.

Shortly after the Apollo 11 mission wind down, Neil Armstrong announced he would not fly in space again. He briefly held administrative positions at NASA but left for good in 1971, and at the age of 41, he withdrew from public life. He taught engineering for eight years at the University of Cincinnati, during which time he bought a 310-acre farm near Lebanon OH, where he raised cattle and corn, flew gliders in his spare time, and gradually began retirement with his wife. Spurning offers to leverage his fame in a political career – as three of the astronaut corps had done – Armstrong eschewed publicity and accepted only a few requests for interviews and speeches. Yet he was approachable. He lived an ordinary life, was active in the Lebanon YMCA, played golf regularly with friends, and ate lunch every day at the same restaurant among his fellow citizens. He gave a speech, however, in 2000 to the National Press Club in which he offered this penetrating self-description: “I am, and ever will be, a white-socks, pocket-protector, nerdy engineer, born under the second law of thermodynamics, steeped in steam tables, in love with free-body diagrams, transformed by Laplace, and propelled by compressible flow.”

But Armstrong was not shy about voicing his opposition to Obama’s budget cutting of human space exploration. Knowing what would happen if the brain power of the space program disbanded, Armstrong, the first man on the moon, joined with Gene Cernan, the last man on the moon, to appear before a congressional committee to blast Obama’s plans for NASA. Armstrong called those plans “devastating” and appealed that NASA’s first priority should be to learn to sail on the “new oceans” of solar system space.  NASA “must find ways of restoring hope and confidence to a confused and disconsolate work force,” Armstrong testified. “Without the rocket power to return to space, which the Obama cuts will eliminate, the once leading space-faring nation in the world will slip to second or third rate stature,” the Apollo commanders said in a written statement released to the mainstream media. In fact, the US is already reduced to begging rides on Russia rockets at a cost of over $60 million per seat.

Even more demeaning to the historic legacy of NASA was the revelation by its current administrator, Charles Bolden, that Obama instructed him to repurpose the agency to, among other things, monitor earth’s environmental changes and to reach out to the Muslim world, engaging the dominantly Muslim nations to help them feel good about their historic contribution to science ... and math and engineering. When Charles Krauthammer learned that, he became apoplectic.

A routine coronary by-pass surgery in early August developed complications and Neil Armstrong unexpectedly died last week. The first man to step foot on the moon, an act that demonstrated the American exceptionalism so disdained by Obama, was preceded in death by the space program he helped create, whose future space explorers, if there are any, will be reduced to thumbing rides on Russian spacecraft.

We shall each make our journey to the stars and their Creator one day.

Neil Armstrong’s lifted off on August 25, 2012 at the age of 82.