Tom thought back to a few days earlier when he last saw his son. Tom was in an environmentally controlled area while Anne and Peter were on the other side of a glass wall. Excitedly, Peter showed off a new Hot Wheels toy car that was supposedly a “goodbye” gift from Tom. Even though this was news to him, he still nodded, pretending to be aware of the toy. Once again, Anne was covering for Tom for not being a part of his son’s life.
Snapping his eyes open, Tom stared up at the white ceiling above. Things had to change. He couldn’t continue not being there for his family. They meant too much to him. Though he planned on staying with NASA after the mission, he would have to make some kind of adjustment to his schedule. He needed to spend more time with Peter. If that meant taking a desk job, so be it.
Tom wondered if he ought to start guiding his son along the path of someday becoming an astronaut. Considering the dangers of the profession, he questioned the wisdom of that choice. Space travel will surely be safer when Peter flies. Think of how far air travel has come. Shoot, by 2000, America will probably be flying tourists into space. Peter could be a commercial space pilot. Tom decided he had to see if his boy was a chip off the old block, and the only way to do that was to teach him how to fly. Right then and there he concluded he’d buy a small airplane. He had no idea how he would be able to afford such an extravagant expense, but he rationalized that whatever the cost, it would be worth every penny to be able to share the joy of flying with his son.
Pleased with his decision, Tom contentedly closed his eyes and dozed off.
TOM LED HIS crewmates proudly down the long corridor of the Manned Spacecraft Operations Building toward the transfer van that would take them the short eight miles to their launch pad. The hallway was scattered with a handful of office personnel there to see them off, along with some photographers. Tom’s rigid spacesuit made walking difficult. He tried not to look silly as he clutched his portable oxygen unit feeding him air. With very little sound penetrating his helmet, he was unable to hear the well-wishers. He simply waved at the folks as he continued on.
After the short elevator ride, Tom came to the exit of the building. A security guard opened the door. Outside there were hundreds of people behind a barrier. Tom saw them waving and cheering, but he couldn’t hear them. Without breaking stride, Tom acknowledged the crowd. In front of him was a thirty-foot ramp that led down to the transfer van waiting with its back doors open.
The last thing Tom wanted was to trip and fall on the ramp, so he concentrated as he awkwardly moved his stiff legs down the incline. Halfway down he looked up and got a pleasant surprise. There at the bottom of the ramp he saw Anne and Peter clapping. The wonderful sight had Tom grinning from ear to ear. Clearly Dick had set up the surprise. As he approached his family, he had to stop. He gave Peter a light pat on the head. The little boy instantly reached up and grabbed Tom’s black glove, squeezing it tight. Tom winked at his son before turning to Anne. She surprised him by placing both hands on his helmet. Stepping on her tippy toes, she pulled him close and planted a big kiss right on the plastic bubble. Then she lovingly mouthed that she loved him. He did the same before strolling on with a sudden burst of happiness.
As he entered the van and took a seat, a warm smile crossed his face. There on the bottom of his helmet was the faint outline of Anne’s lips. Though he should have had the impression wiped off, he decided to keep it. It represented what was most important to him and what would be waiting for him when he returned.
21
WAHOO!
“This is Kennedy Launch Control. The Launch Operations Manager has called the three astronauts and says the launch team wishes them good luck and God speed. They all replied ‘Thank you’ and now have a quiet circuit as they switch over to the astrocomm circuit. We’re now T minus 3 minutes, 24 seconds and counting before the launch of Apollo 16.”
Anne stared uneasily up at the loudspeaker that was updating the people in the VIP grandstands on the progress of the launch. The moment was drawing near when Tom would be shot up into the heavens by a rocket that had the force of an atomic bomb. A part of her selfishly wished for a scrub, giving her at least one more month with her husband. A crazy notion deep within her hoped that a cancellation of the launch could lead to the program being shut down and Tom never leaving Earth. Of course, such thoughts were outlandish and self-centered. Flying to the moon was Tom’s dream.
The grandstands were packed with dignitaries. Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best with some women wearing elegant Derby hats. Anne proudly wore her favorite three-year-old white dress with black polka dots. She had considered dressing Peter in a suit, but the young boy would have been miserable in the 85-degree heat.
For many, a Saturn V launch had become mundane. It was simply just another social event, an opportunity to show off a new hairdo or dress. But for Anne and the other crew wives, their husbands were on top of that monster, risking their lives. Nothing in firing off the most powerful rocket ever built was routine. Made up of over a million parts, just one failing piece could lead to a devastating disaster.
Looking out toward the rocket three-and-a-half miles away, Anne adjusted her sunglasses. To see the huge machine clearly, she had to hold up her hand to block out the midmorning sun. The rocket seemed lonely, almost docile, as vapor gases seeped out of its sides in all directions. She felt an odd connection to the mammoth. Her husband was now in its grasp, and she prayed it would take care of him.
A sudden tap on Anne’s shoulder made her look back. The Vice President of the United States, sitting behind her, had a sincere look on his face.
“Your husband will be fine.”
Anne smiled graciously before turning toward Peter next to her, who was playing with his toy Hot Wheels car. He was starting to get restless after spending over an hour in the stands. Anne put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready for Daddy to shoot off to the moon?”
Peter’s eyes widened as he looked up. “Is it time, Mommy?”
“Almost, just a few more minutes. Can you see the rocket?”
Peter set the toy in his lap and looked out toward pad 39A. He lifted his small hands to shield his eyes from the sun’s rays. “Kinda. It seems like a long way away. How come we’re so far?”
All spectators needed to be at a safe distance from the pad in case the rocket exploded. Anne didn’t want to alarm her son with the exact reasoning, so instead came up with something logical that a seven-year-old could grasp. “A lot of fire comes out from underneath the rocket when it lifts off, and NASA wants everyone to be out of harm’s way.”
Peter dropped his hands and looked at her. “I wish I was with Dad, to make sure he’ll be okay.”
Anne smiled at her son as she reached for his hand. “I’m positive he wants you here with me, to make sure I’ll be okay.”
STRAPPED TIGHTLY IN his seat, Tom was all business as he closely monitored the complex control panel in front of him. The launch team were also hard at work carefully watching over their redline values verifying all was a Go. The overall control of the flight was now in the hands of the computer, which made the astronauts nervous. The last thing they wanted was some machine forcing an unneeded scrub.