USSR Hoax

25 SHOWTIME

There was a rush of activity taking place within the cockpit of Explorer as the spacecraft raced toward the unforgiving lunar surface at more than a hundred feet per second. Tom and Dusty were preparing for Pitch-over, the moment of truth for the commander. In anticipation of the maneuver, Tom took a second to loosen his grip on the hand controllers. He wiggled his fingers like a gunslinger getting ready for battle. This was why he signed up for the program. He was about to join one of the most exclusive clubs in the universe.

During private meetings with past Apollo commanders in preparation for the landing, Tom found many had an air of arrogance regarding another commander joining their group. Though all astronauts were basically a bunch of alpha males, commanders were unmistakably the leaders of the pack. Each one of these men felt he was the best pilot, hands down, no question, especially the Navy men with their carrier backgrounds. Though Tom respected them all, he was just as good and was ready to prove he belonged in the club.

As programed, the Lunar Module pitched over at the 7,500-foot mark, giving Tom his first glimpse of the moon’s horizon. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he scanned the tapestry of craters in a mad search to locate their expected landmarks. The lack of shadows in the shallow craters made it difficult to determine their position. Tom had little time to waste. In less than four minutes he had to have them safely on the ground before running out of fuel.

Tom’s pilot training kicked in, and in his heightened state, he sensed time stretching, slowing things down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a large mountain range appear, dwarfing their spacecraft. In all their simulations, they had never been provided with any side views. The fact that they were zooming across the face of a huge mountain gave Tom the sensation he was truly flying. The sudden spike in his heart rate probably worried mission control, but he was just excited.

Tom kept his cool. “Pitch-over.”

Etched on the commander’s window was a grid similar to a gunsight. This simple setup was Tom’s way of seeing roughly where the computer was taking them. Once Dusty read him the correct angles, all Tom had to do was line up the scribe marks. If he didn’t like where they were headed, he could make the necessary adjustments with his controls.

As the angles changed, Dusty called them out. “40 degrees… 38 degrees.”

“Okay.” With incredible focus, Tom continued to look for any recognizable landmark. He needed visual confirmation that they were on the right track. He was about to ask Dusty to take a look when he spotted Aggie Crater to his left. Just knowing one piece of the puzzle allowed Tom to quickly identify the other craters. He concluded they were slightly off target. The ship was heading northwest of their designated landing spot. Although landing right on point was not critical because of the lunar rover they brought along, Tom still wanted to top his fellow commanders. After minor corrections and firing the appropriate thrusters, Tom soon had the ship back on track.

Dusty called out. “5,000 feet, 41.”

In twelve seconds they had already descended over 2,000 feet. Tom continued to make slight tweaks to the controls-a couple of clicks left, three back-keeping their landing spot centered on the grid.

“3,000 feet, 52, 51, 49, 49.”

The craters were quickly getting bigger. Tom darted his eyes about until he found a safe opening. “Okay, I got a good spot.”

“Good. 48.”

In his helmet Tom heard mission control rattle off, “Explorer, Houston. You are Go for landing.”

Pleased with the “Go” signal, Tom rapidly spit out his response. “Roger. Go for landing.” Moisture beaded on Tom’s palms and perspiration welled up on his forehead as he continued to maneuver the Lunar Module while the computer rode the throttle.

“2,000, 46, on profile.”

Tom was happy to hear he was hitting his marks. He leaned up close to his window to get a good look at the spot he was shooting for. Though he would have to fly over a big crater just before touchdown, all looked doable. Dusty continued to read off the data in a crisp and disciplined manner as Tom skillfully guided them down. Once Dusty called out, 700, 50, Tom couldn’t contain himself any longer and took over control. He was ready to put this baby down. “Okay. Taking over, Dusty.”

In a confident tone, his partner responded immediately, “Roger, you’ve got P66.”

The P66 code informed mission control that Tom was now running the show. Apollo 16’s fate was in his hands.

Dusty’s voice became more animated. “Okay, 26 down at 500 feet.”

Tom no longer needed the landing point angles. What he needed were velocities and altitude. Per Dusty, they were dropping at 26 feet per second. He needed to slow down their descent. He switched to Altitude Hold, pitching the LM forward until they were almost vertical, letting the descent rocket brake their fall without slowing their horizontal flight.

A couple of irritating drops of sweat began to ooze over Tom’s eyelashes, distorting his view. He couldn’t chance the little pests seeping into his eyes. Not wanting to take his focus off the target, he blinked hard, successfully dislodging the little buggers.

“300 feet, 15.”

Tom was approaching “Dead Man’s Zone” where they would be unable to abort. After the two hundred-foot-level, their altitude wouldn’t allow for enough time for the ascent stage to ignite and stop their plunge. If any malfunction happened after that point, they were crashing onto the moon’s surface. Tom’s senses were working on overdrive. His hearing was tuned in to Dusty’s voice, his eyes took in the action outside his window, and his hands and body were feeling exactly what the machine was doing. Come on, Tom, get this right.

“200 feet, 11, 10 percent fuel.”

Tom pitched the ship slightly over to get a better look at the patch of land he was aiming for. A boulder field lay about fifty feet to the left but seemed a safe distance away. The area appeared level, but there was no way of telling for sure due to the lack of rocks big enough to cast shadows he could see. His concern was landing on the edge of the crater and putting the LM in a dangerously tilted position. Such a mistake would nullify the use of the ascent stage rocket, essentially making the Lunar Module their tomb.

“160, 10 down, give a couple of clicks up.”

Tom was so focused outside his window that it was tough to take in Dusty’s concern. But they were still descending too quickly. Ideally, they should be dropping at a slow, five feet per second, but they were at ten. It was as if his hand knew what to do and took over, slowing their drop, while his brain concentrated on what was going on outside. He was getting to the point where he had to stop their forward motion, but they needed another twenty feet to get past the crater.

“Okay, 5 down, 110 feet.”

A translucent sheet of moving dust started to distort Tom’s view. As he passed over the crater’s lip, he focused on a group of dark rocks he could see through the dirty buildup, helping him to determine exactly how the ship was moving.

Mission control came over the radio, “Sixty seconds.”

With two voices in his helmet and all the action happening outside, he had to sort through the chatter to extract information he needed. He convinced himself that sixty seconds of fuel was plenty, and he tuned out mission control. He straightened up the ship, completely stopping their forward motion. It was critical that they drop in a level and steady orientation to prevent snapping off a leg. He clicked the rate-of-toggle switch until he had their descent at the pace of a slow elevator. The dust was starting to blow up in thicker sheets, making it impossible to see the rocks that had been guiding him. He had no choice but to go by feel, hoping he wasn’t drifting back toward the crater.

“50 feet, down 3.”

For the first time, the shadow of the Lunar Module appeared on the surface. Even in the heavy dust, Tom could make out the legs’ shadows. He focused on those struts, watching the bottom of those shadows get closer to his spacecraft, his only visual indication of how high they were.

“30 feet, down 2.”

Tom was approaching the point where if he had to cut the engine, they would be okay with the hard landing. But he definitely didn’t want to test the theory. Contractors weren’t always right about their equipment. His plan was to cut the engine shortly after one of the nine-foot-long sensor probes extending off the legs came into contact with the surface. Once that happened, a blue light labeled Lunar Contact would glow in the cabin. If he waited too long past that point, it was feared that a rock could plug the engine’s fairing, causing a devastating explosion.

“20 feet, down 2.”

The ship’s shadow on the uneven surface didn’t help to determine if he was drifting. Finally the dust got so bad that he lost sight of his ship’s shadow. Come on, give me contact.

Dusty called out in an excited voice, “Contact.”

Tom waited a few seconds before calmly pushing in the Engine Stop button. A sudden hush filled his helmet as the ship plummeted the final five feet, hitting with a soft thud, thanks to the legs’ shock absorbers. Tom looked over at Dusty, who had a big grin. Tom broke the silence in his helmet by letting out an exhausted breath. He looked outside at the alien surface through the sun’s glare and dust. He shook his head, amazed he was on the moon. “Houston, Explorer has landed.”

POP, POP, POP.

Corks were flying all over the living room from folks opening bottles of Cold Duck to celebrate the successful landing. Virginia was giddy as she approached Anne with an open bottle of the bubbly along with a healthy stack of colorful paper Dixie Cups.

Virginia gave Anne a hug. “Looks like our Tom did it.”

Anne smiled as she grabbed one of the cups. Virginia poured the sparkling wine.

Tom’s dad approached, giving both his daughter and daughter-in-law a hug. Hank was beaming as he nabbed a Dixie Cup. “How about that?”

Anne continued to show a happy face, but her stomach was still in knots. It was tough for her to let loose and enjoy the party. Her husband was over 200,000 miles away in a dangerous and unforgiving place. There was no guarantee he would return, and that weighed heavily on her.

Hank put an arm around his daughter-in-law and toasted her cup. “Sweetheart, I know this is just round five of a fifteen-round fight. But Tom did a great job up there. I have every confidence in the world he will be sitting in this living room this time next week, probably asking you to make him a martini.”

Virginia chimed in, “Yeah, and you can tell Mr. Superstar to go make his own.”

Anne appreciated the two trying to comfort her.

Others came up to Anne, offering toasts and passing on their congratulations. She showed an excited composure as she hugged them all. After a while, she wondered where Peter was. She wanted to give her son a hug. She set out on a lone search for the boy. Unable to locate him in the house, she opened the back sliding glass door and popped her head outside. There sat Peter in the middle of the yard, his back to her, Dino obediently lying by his side. The boy petted his dog as he stared up into the early night sky.

“There you are.” Anne peeked up in the direction Peter was looking and saw the faint moon. She looked back at her son and crossed to him. “Peter, what are you doing?”

Peter spoke in a determined voice as he kept staring skyward. “I’m trying to see Daddy on the moon.”

The innocent and adorable comment touched Anne’s heart. A single tear welled up in her eye. She sat on the ground next to her son, her leg touching his. She looked up at the moon. “Have you found him yet?”

“Not yet, Mommy. Can you help me?”

“Of course, dear.”

TOM WAS HELPING Dusty put on his Portable Life Support System in preparation for their first moonwalk. The PLSS backpack was practically half as big as the astronauts, and getting it positioned on Dusty’s back within the cramped cabin was tricky. With close to a hundred hours training in the LM simulator, both men knew how to move around expertly without knocking into controls or each other. But during all that training, Tom never had the two-inch-wide metal cylinder in his front leg pocket. That bulge was just enough to cause him to change his routine slightly, forcing him to stand in a different position. It also reminded him of the covert operation he was a part of. He quickly put the thought out of his mind. His focus was on the lunar EVA coming up. There would be plenty of time the night before the third and final spacewalk to review how he was going to snatch the lunar material.

With their spacesuits still connected to the spacecraft’s cooling system, Tom’s suit was starting to get cold inside. “Damn, I’m freezing my ass off.”

Dusty laughed. “Me too.”

The sound of mission control suddenly filled the cabin. “Explorer, Houston. We copy that.”

David was now the CAPCOM to support the men on their lunar EVA. Tom was caught off guard by his friend’s response. He stopped for a moment wondering if the entire world just heard his comment. “What did you say?”

“Roger. We are just noting your hot mike.”

Tom almost cursed again when he heard that he had forgotten to shut off their transmission back to Earth. “Roger, Houston.” He switched off the voice-activated radio in frustration. “So much for a ‘G-rated’ mission.”

Dusty chuckled as Tom went back to work.

“So, Tom, any idea what you’re going to say when you first step on the moon?”

Tom smiled at the question. He looked out at the spectacular backdrop outside his window. “Who cares what I have to say? I’m not the first, the second, or even the third man to step on the moon. I’m the ninth, and nobody cares what the ninth man has to say, especially history.”

“Your family will.”

“Maybe, but that’s about it.”

“Of course, you could shock the world.”

With the backpack in place, Tom jostled around in front of Dusty to help hook up his partner’s hoses. Tom looked up at his LMP. “And how do I do that?”

Dusty said with a sly grin, “Tell them what you told me, that there are tiny green men running all around.”

Tom laughed. “Not sure Dick will go for that.”

“Perhaps, but it will get a lot of press and probably go down in history.”

“Yeah, as the stupidest statement ever made. I think I’ll stick with something less shocking.”

ANNE WAS PLEASED to see a news break on the television announcing that the Apollo 16 astronauts would be shown live disembarking from the spacecraft in approximately thirty minutes. She felt a soft hand on her shoulder and turned to see Joan holding a glass of wine.

“Would you like me to go upstairs and get Peter?”

“Thanks, Joan, but I promised I would wake him.” Anne excused herself and made her way through the excited crowd. Hank stood at the foot of the stairs.

“Off to get my grandson?”

“I am.”

“Need any help?”

“Thanks, but I got it.”

“Tell you what. I’ll wait right here, and if you’d like, I’d be more than happy to watch over him.”

Anne smiled. “That would be great. Thanks, Hank.” Knowing Peter was so afraid he was going to miss out on the big event, Anne wondered, as she climbed the steps, if her son had been able to get any sleep. When she approached Peter’s room, her suspicions were answered when she heard sheets rustling through the cracked-open doorway. As she gradually opened the door, the hall light inched across the bedroom floor.

Once the glow reached Peter’s bed, the boy shot straight up. “Is it time, Mommy?”

With a big grin, Anne flipped on the light. “Sweetheart, you were supposed to be asleep.” She crossed the room and sat on the bed next to her beaming son.

Peter’s hair was a mess. “I can’t sleep, Mom, I’m too excited.”

Anne tried to groom the boy’s hair with her hand. “I understand, dear. I’m excited too. Well…it’s time. Your dad will soon be walking on the moon. So let’s get you out of bed and downstairs with the others.”

Peter hopped out of bed and was at the door before Anne could even get up. The eager boy started bouncing on his feet waiting for Anne. She took Peter’s hand and proudly escorted the boy downstairs to his waiting Opa.

“HEY, TOM, HURRY UP!”

Considering Tom had just exited the spacecraft, he had to smile at Dusty’s impatience. His LMP couldn’t leave the ship until Tom was safely down the ladder and on the moon. “I’m hustling.”

After crawling out backward through the small hatch, Tom was currently on all fours on the Lunar Module “porch.” He reached over and pulled the release cord to deploy the cover of the equipment stowage. He watched the bay door slowly swing down toward the lunar surface. “Houston, MESA is released.”

David answered calmly from mission control, “Excellent, Tom.”

Using the low porch railings to guide him, Tom cautiously shimmied backwards on his hands and knees. Though he had practiced this exercise many times, it was still a challenge in a pressurized suit. He also couldn’t see behind him. He simply moved backward until his legs started to fall off the ledge. He positioned his boots on the second rung before standing straight up. Holding onto the railing, he radioed, “Houston, I am on the ladder, heading down.”

“We copy that, Tom.”

Unable to see the ladder below, Tom carefully counted off each step in his head until he was positive he was located on the last rung. He leaned over and looked down at the gold, gleaming landing pad just over three feet below his boots. The colorful, flickering foil contrasted drastically with the surrounding grays and blacks. It was as if the small, circular footpad was magically glowing, summoning him to step down and enter a new world that would change his life forever.

Tom grinned from ear to ear, jumped enthusiastically off the ladder, and floated down onto the three-foot diameter pad. He turned and looked out at the magnificent vista that engulfed him. His excitement was amped up to an all-time high. The last time he had this feeling, he was a young child about to turn on the lights in the wee hours on Christmas morning to see his gifts. “Houston, I am ready to step off.”

“Roger, Tom. Good luck.”

Tom jumped off the pad and floated for a long beat before landing firmly on the moon’s surface, his boots kicking up some fine lunar dust. The small particles hovered over his space boots. “Houston, you have one happy astronaut here. The ground is covered with a few inches of gray dust and all is okay.”

“Roger, Tom. Congratulations, and try not to get too dirty.”

Tom smiled at the poignant comment, remembering how David often bitched in private about the excessive dust he had to deal with inside the Lunar Module after his spacewalks.

Dusty chimed in with exhilaration in his voice, “All right, Tom, it’s time for me to come out and play too!”

Tom didn’t bother answering. He was too busy hopping around having a good time. “Oh, man, this is fantastic.”

“Closing hatch.”

Tom skipped his way over to the equipment bay. He eagerly flipped open his wrist checklist to verify what he needed to do next. A big grin shot across his face when he saw a picture of a Playboy Bunny taped to the second page, a beautiful blonde with all the right curves. He radioed into mission control, “David, I am on page two of the checklist. Tell the backup crew that everything checks out fine. Thanks for their help.”

A slight chuckle confirmed that his friend knew about the practical joke. “Roger, Tom, I’ll pass that on.”