Gene Kranz - Failure Is Not an Option

Fucci called out the final events: “The computer is in control… engine arm… plus X jets firing… engine start… 10 percent.”

I instantly thought, Go for it! Then Fucci suddenly called “SHUT DOWN!” The words came almost as an expletive, something that we were not expecting. In seconds, Fucci transmitted commands to secure the system, then more commands to burrow into the guts of the LM computer to find out what had happened.

We were now getting the telemetry in the MCC from Australia. After briefly assessing it, Gary Renick, my guidance officer, came on line. “Flight, we had two alarms, ‘DPS DELTA V’ and ‘FORGET IT!’”

I thought, What the hell are they?

A quick check of the LM showed no apparent problems, then Craven grunted instructions to Carlton. Precisely measuring his words, Carlton said, “The alarm indicates that the thrust did not build up fast enough. The time set in the computer for thrust buildup was too short. We need to change the computer timer.”

Renick said, “That makes sense, Flight. The FORGET IT alarm indicates that when the command was given to throttle the engine, nothing happened.”

I was proud of my guys. Within minutes of the alarm, they had decoded the problem—caused by an incorrect computer instruction—and were moving toward an answer.

The tracking station coverage was soon going to go to hell. We had only three and a half more hours before the lunar module went beyond the ground network. While the LM crossed the Pacific to the United States, we developed a plan to change the computer timer, delay the mission plan a revolution, and attempt to return to automatic LM computer control.

On the third pass over the States, a problem that had been previously just a nuisance now became critical. Mission Control was having difficulty commanding the spacecraft. The signal strengths were so poor that it took three or four tries for each command. We quickly decided to start a go-for-broke ground command sequence on the fourth and final pass across the States. The control teams struggled to get the target up-dates and maneuver information into the lunar module computer, punching the commands in manually from the consoles.

Kraft and the Apollo program manager, George Low, joined me at the console as we rapidly discussed the options. Kraft, unfamiliar with the team’s jargon, said, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but keep it up… good luck!” Then he returned to his console behind me. Low remained at my console, asking me what I intended to do. I said, “George, I am going to try a Hail Mary pass. I am going to go for the full set of objectives using manual sequences. I will have a backup if we run out of time and tracking stations.” Kraft motioned Low to move away from the console and give me room to work. I said a prayer that we could get the ground commands in when needed.

I was at a crossroads. I wanted to accomplish every LM test objective, but I could not risk the loss of the fire-in-the-hole test. To hedge my bet, I set an MCC wall clock counting down to the time of the final tracking station pass where I would settle for the last-ditch plan.

The team’s dialogue between positions in the last minutes became so rapid, crisp, and intense that I could hear Craven yelling instructions to Carlton, completely ignoring his pain. Other controllers, their work done, hunched over their consoles, trying to figure out how to help us. I would select the mission sequence, the commands would be executed by Renick, my GUIDO, and the event calls would come from Carlton. The three of us had to be perfectly synchronized. The fact that the schedule for the lunar landing was now hanging in the balance never entered our minds. We were committed to success. We were after the whole enchilada. Time no longer had a meaning; we were locked into orbits, elapsed time, targets, and command sequences. We had to get the engine testing and the fire-in-the-hole objective completed in the next orbit or the mission was a failure.

A new problem was bugging Reed, my flight dynamics officer, as he edged up to my console: “Flight, on the next maneuver, if the engine burns too long we will splash the LM in the Atlantic Ocean. We have to get the engine cutoff in at the right time.” I nodded to Reed, silently assuring him that somehow we would get the commands to the LM to stop the burn. If it didn’t, we would lose all of our flight test objectives. This was no time to take counsel of our fears.

The ship off the coast of California sent a command that started the descent engine. Renick and Carlton, in perfect sync, called out events, and times and snapped out the backup commands. The descent engine shut down after one minute, twenty seconds, coasted, and then restarted. As the engine continued to burn my mind clocked the objectives as each milestone passed by. The call from Carlton—“Fire-in-the-hole, abort stage… we are stable”—made me smile and several of the controllers gave a brief cheer. I heard Craven’s chuckle over the hubbub in the room as the LM ascent engine burned briefly, then shut down as planned.

Reed reported, “Flight, the engine shutdown occurred at the right time in orbit. The high-speed tracking indicates we have passed minimum perigee [lowest altitude point]. The altitude is now increasing.” You could feel the collective sigh of relief that we had not splashed into the Atlantic. A half orbit later we commanded the final ascent engine maneuver, completing all of the LM objectives for the mission.

As a result of the command problems, we had ruptured a control fuel tank, blown a jet nozzle off the LM, tumbled the gyros, and expended all ascent rocket fuel. But we had satisfied all objectives in our last-ditch maneuver sequence. I was so ecstatic I felt like starting our party in Mission Control. As the LM left our telemetry screens, the spacecraft was heading toward its fiery reentry off the west coast of Panama.

It was past midnight when we finished, but not too late to say thanks to a great bunch—young kids and two salty old-timers. I regretted that the Singing Wheel was closed because of the late hour, denying me the chance to buy my team a few well-earned beers. Although this was just an unmanned mission, the lunar module showed the resilience, the flexibility, the margin we would need to go to the Moon. We had dodged bullets before, but this time we caught one in midair and spit it out. The morning newspapers declared, “APOLLO MISSION A SUCCESS, LUNAR PROGRAM ON TRACK!”

I am poor at committing to memory vast amounts of information, so I developed a series of indexed handbooks that I could refer to instantly at the console. These documents were my bridge to the controllers. I color-coded the books and highlighted the key constraints. By the time a flight was ready to launch, I had spent hundreds of hours with my systems handbook, mostly at night at home, long after Marta and the kids were asleep. I wanted to know the guts of the spacecraft the way I had known about the components of the aircraft I had flown. By acquiring this knowledge in detail I was able to communicate with my systems controllers at a level deeper than the other flight directors. This enabled me to get answers faster and make decisions quickly in real time.

My greatest fear approaching launch day was that I would lose one or more of my books. To assure that they were easy to find, I used pictures of various striking young women from the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition for all my book covers. The controllers knew about my book covers and, if one were missing, this virtually guaranteed a prompt return. I went back and forth daily between the office and Mission Control with my four large distinctively covered volumes under my arms.

No final lunar schedule was yet in place when Kraft called a surprise staff meeting on April 8, 1968. We had flown three unmanned Apollo missions since the fire, all of them little noticed by the public and the media. At the meeting, Kraft reviewed the results of the missions up to Apollo 6, then he started to speculate on a possible alternative sequence if problems kept pushing against the timetable for the lunar landing. Finally he drove right to the core: “The lunar schedule is in trouble. We must understand and fix the problems with the Saturn.” (Apollo 4 and 5 had gone very well, but on Apollo 6 we had first-stage rocket thrust oscillations that caused the Saturn to bounce like a pogo stick. Minutes later, two of the second-stage engines shut down, and when we got to orbit we could not restart the S-IVB engine.) Kraft then continued, “The LM is overweight and the software for its computer is not ready.”