It weighed as much as fourteen Boeing 787s of the modern age; over three thousand tonnes of steel to be propelled and lifted into earth’s orbit. Three million kilograms. Who would have thought that the father of this rocket, a certain Herr von Braun, the same man who had designed the V2 rockets sent to rain hellfire on London during the Second World War, would now be hauling this great rocket from its launch pad? This rocket, the one on which all the Apollo missions flew, was named Saturn V.
At the Cape Kennedy space centre, the three astronauts and adventurers of this Apollo 11 mission sat strapped in their flight capsule, their hearts pounding. No-one in the crowd could make them out, but they were jubilant nonetheless. The rocket blasted off, its engines roaring like thunder. The launch area was engulfed in flame, the fire spreading like a flock of grey birds. Saturn V propelled upwards; the mission was on. Mission Commander Neil Armstrong was buzzing with excitement. He was a civilian, and had been chosen to become the first man to set foot on the moon – before the Russians, before anyone. He repeated the line over and over in his head, like a schoolboy getting ready to recite the pledge of allegiance: “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind...” He hummed it like a mantra, slow and steady in his head. He could hardly believe it was happening. Just ten seconds, and in a few days the Moon. In just a few days Neil Armstrong would land on the Sea of Tranquillity. Buzz Aldrin, the second in command, remained serene. He had always displayed remarkable sang-froid, being a military man, and was chosen to be the second man to walk on the lunar surface. He relaxed his body, letting the force of the propulsion carry him. He kept an eye on the mission abort lever; you never knew. Michael Collins had tears in his eyes; he would not walk on the moon. While the others were taking their first steps on the silver star, Michael Collins would await them in orbit. The astronauts, mathematicians and engineers had spent the past decade working on this mission, and it was crucial to winning the Space Race against the Soviet Union – the Russians had already put a man, Yuri Gagarin, on the moon. The Americans would not be beaten that easily. They would prove their might, as President John F. Kennedy had promised: “Our next destination, which we will reach before the end of the decade, is the Moon.”
A hundred metres away, the residents of Florida had come to admire the launch of Saturn V. The rocket was now a hundred feet off the ground. It was a hurricane, their burning desire to conquer the Moon, the roaring of the engines that tore through the atmosphere. The rocket grew smaller and smaller. A few minutes later it looked no bigger than a shooting star, leaving a fine trail of smoke in its wake, so small it seemed in the eyes of the Floridians. Then they saw it no more.
Alan Alfredo Geday