“Don’t worry Frank, we’ll eat for you,” Lovell jibed. “The Colonel is still finding his sea legs,” Lovell told Fifield quietly, with more relish than Borman might have liked.
“Don’t worry about me, I could eat the leg off a horse,” Borman assured him.
Fifield stopped outside a hatch marked Officers Mess.
“We’ve factored in a bit of down time for you. Breakfast’s ready and waiting. The room’s all clear, so you can just relax and take it easy for a spell,” Fifield told them.
The astronauts saluted the Captain, who enthusiastically returned the honour.
“It’s a pleasure to have you aboard,” he told them.
“Thanks, Captain,” Borman replied wearily. “Care to join us?”
Fifield seemed to consider the possibility for a moment but finally shook his head. “I’ll buy you all a drink tonight. Another esteemed Navy man will be joining you as soon as you’ve had something to eat. Thank you, gentlemen.”
A veritable smorgasbord awaited them — a pyramid of fried eggs, their body weight in bacon, hash browned potatoes, cereal, fresh bananas and apples, and a large bowl of fruit salad. Tea, coffee and juices were lined at the far end of the buffet next to the plates and cups.
“What, no champagne?” said Anders.
“God, I hope that coffee’s strong,” Lovell sighed.
“Pour me one of those, would you Jim?” Borman asked as he grabbed a plate and began gathering food.
Anders snatched a piece of bacon and shoved it in his mouth. “Mmm-hmm, that’s good. I don’t think anything’s ever tasted better.”
“Don’t get too carried away,” Lovell warned. “You’ll be throwing up in half an hour if you overeat — after what we’ve been surviving on for the past six days.”
The voice of experience. With Gemini VII and Gemini XII already under his belt, Lovell had now logged more hours in space than any man alive. He knew all too well about the fall back to Earth.
They’d been fortunate on the return flight from the Moon. Deke had packed them a Christmas turkey dinner. Not exactly how Mum would make it, but a whole lot better than anything else NASA had to offer them. Borman had drawn the line at Deke’s little bottles of brandy. He had never been much of a drinker and cocktails in deep space was never going to be an option. The brandy had remained safely locked away inside the capsule, which by now should be on its way to the cargo hold of the Yorktown.
“How’s about that re-entry?” Anders remarked. “It was like being inside a furnace.”
“Yeah, it’s one heck of a flaming crescendo,” Lovell agreed. “Talk about ending with a bang.”
“I’m always mighty relieved to see those main chutes opening,” said Borman.
“Except we couldn’t see them in the dark,” said Anders.
“But we knew they were there, right Frank?” said Lovell. He was talking about their ignominious splashdown.
Borman grinned. “We sure did.”
“I hope I get to go back up there,” said Lovell.
“I’ll put in a good word,” said Borman. “What about you, Bill? Keen to try again?”
“Well, I’ve gotta say we made it look easy. Considering we were flying without a net.”
Anders meant the absence of a lunar module. The LM’s construction had been delayed. Because it was a separate spacecraft, the plan had always been to use it as a life raft if anything went wrong with the command module.
But with only a year to go before the end of Kennedy’s deadline to land on the Moon, NASA had decided not to wait for the LM to be ready. So Apollo 8 flew solo. Everyone agreed it was worth the risk.
“Ask me again when I’ve slept for a few days,” said Anders.
Borman was thankful at that moment they didn’t query his future intentions. He might have been forced to think long and hard about how to respond, despite the promise he’d made to his wife. His boys might see it differently. Teenagers had no fear of death, although it would be fair to say they might have a more sober take on their old man’s grip on mortality.
He had already put Susan through so much. He couldn’t wait to see her again, to share her happiness at his safe return. She would be so relieved. He couldn’t take that away. He needed to stand by his assurance to her that enough was truly enough.
But Deke had almost offered it on a platter. Won’t you regret it, Frank? He offered you the Moon, said you of all people deserved to be the first. And you said no.
Food piled moderately high on their plates, they ate in raptured silence, each man calmly reflecting on their achievements. Each, in his own way, thanking God they had made it home alive.
A proud-looking man of mature years with a face rather like a wrinkled prune entered the Officers Mess looking at once like he didn’t belong. The absence of a uniform told them he was a civilian. Late 60s, thin, educated by the look of him. He could have been a general or an admiral, but by the crumpled and oversized cut of his well-worn suit they could tell he was no serving military man.
Their visitor closed the hatch slowly and carefully before turning to face them. The expression that greeted them could only be described as one of steely determination. He held a stack of documents under one arm.
“I assume from the looks on your faces nobody told you I was coming,” the man realised. He had a definite air of authority.
“No sir, no-one said a word,” Borman replied.
“Hey, I know you!” Lovell realised. “You’re Dr Menzel, the astrophysicist.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Menzel, clearly pleased his reputation had preceded him. He held out his hand to Lovell, who rose to his feet to shake it. “Dr Donald Menzel. An honour to make your acquaintance, Captain Lovell.” Menzel greeted Anders and Borman in turn, his grip firm, his focus unwavering as he stared confidently into their eyes. “An honour to meet you all.”
Borman said nothing. He had no idea what Menzel was doing here, but instinct told him surprises right now were unlikely to be a good thing.
“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion — well not too much, anyway,” said Menzel, chuckling to himself. “But, you see, Captain Fifield has kindly allowed us some time to speak in private ahead of your next round of public interviews and glad-handing.”
“That’s not why you’re here then?” Anders quipped.
Lovell tried and failed to stifle a laugh. Menzel showed no obvious sign of taking the remark as a slight, although Borman couldn’t help thinking in this instance appearances might be deceptive. Proud men usually struggled with self-deprecation in his experience.
“I’m an intruder, I know. Sit down, please, you must all be exhausted. I won’t take up too much of your time. That is, none more than necessary.”
“Exhausted would be putting it mildly,” Borman admitted.
“I have a few important matters to discuss with the three of you. Matters, I’m afraid, which must not be delayed.”
Menzel carefully placed his papers down upon the table nearest to the astronauts as they finished up the last of their breakfast. He pulled off his black suit coat and draped it over the chair beside him like he was settling in for a long visit.
Anders wasn’t about to let any man keep him from his food. He shoved half a fried egg into his mouth and began chewing rapidly, then washed it down with a slug of coffee.
“Sounds ominous,” Lovell suggested, perhaps reading an undercurrent in Menzel’s tone.
“Not at all, not at all,” the scientist insisted. “But please, you’ve got to tell me — what was it like to gaze down upon the Moon from up close?”
It was the first of many times today the question would be asked of them. Borman figured it might be a good idea to get their lines straight now, behind closed doors, so the words sounded crisp when they were uttered in public.