Gene Kranz - Failure Is Not an Option

In the next hour we will do something that has never been done before. We will land an American on the Moon. The risks are high… that is the nature of our work.

We worked long hours and had some tough times but we have mastered our work. Now we are going to make this work pay off.

You are a hell of a good team. One that I feel privileged to lead.

Whatever happens, I will stand behind every call that you will make.

Good luck and God bless us today!

I pause briefly, then resume, “Okay, all flight controllers, return to the flight director’s loop.” I think my phrasing was a bit more emotional than this, but since there is no recording of this private moment we shared, I have put down my best recollection of what I said. I did something I thought was important, something the team had earned, in the good times as well as the bad, an expression of my esteem, my confidence. We were a band of brothers.

I am sure the people in the viewing room and the press corps wondered what in the hell I said. Those who are still around will know now.

I note the time in the log, and call, “Ground Control, lock the control room doors.” I pause briefly, then say, “Take Mission Control to battle short.” From now on, no controller can leave or enter the room. The main circuit breakers in the MCC are blocked and closed. We count the few minutes to acquisition and I light up another Kent, inhale deeply, and say a prayer.

Behind the Moon and out of contact with Mission Control, Armstrong performed a maneuver slowing the LM orbital velocity, allowing the lunar gravity to pull the spacecraft toward the surface. The LM is now silently coasting to an altitude of 50,000 feet. The final landing phase will take about twelve minutes.

Bill Tindall stirs in the seat next to me. There is an air of expectancy in the room. The clock hits zero and the ground controller says, “Flight, we’ve had acquisition.” I do not know what the controllers are thinking at this moment, but it hits me; this is it— landing day .

We are too busy now to think about this being the first landing. We do not have to look for problems because they come right at us, like flies drawn to a picnic lunch. Voice communications are broken, and LM telemetry is unable to lock up. The noise on the air-to-ground communications loop is deafening. Every controller punches the loop off so he can hear communications among the flight control team. Don Puddy instantly swings into action with his back room and his CapCom to select an alternate antenna.

FIDO Jay Greene asks for a report on the descent orbit injection maneuver that the crew has performed behind the Moon. The maneuver sets up the conditions for landing, so the report is critical to Jay’s evaluation of the tracking data. The lunar module is now coasting toward the point for descent engine ignition. While the LM is descending, Mission Control is checking the spacecraft systems telemetry, and Armstrong and Aldrin are performing landmark tracking to make sure they are in the landing corridor. We get communications with the LM briefly; just long enough to get the crew’s maneuver report.

The communications problem has bit us, and I am hard pressed to keep my frustration from surfacing in my voice. We have only two chances to get to the Moon and I sure as hell don’t want to blow off one of them. Every member of the White Team is ready for the race. Now we’re dead in the water. I have only five more minutes and then it’s Go or NoGo. I say a brief prayer, “Please God, give us comm.” The mission rests now on Puddy’s back. Charlie Duke works with Puddy to maintain voice communications with Armstrong and Aldrin in the LM so we can continue with the final preparation to start descent. Duke has to work around the comm outages and remember the controllers’ instructions. He watches comm signal strength indications and suggests an LM attitude change to try to improve the voice comm. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin continue to roll through their checklists, while we try to sort out the problems.

We get a burst of telemetry data at the time for the Go NoGo for powered descent, and I poll my controllers. The controllers make a rapid Go assessment, and then we lose data again. Since Duke cannot communicate with the LM, he relays the Go through Collins in CSM Columbia, who passes the Go to the LM Eagle . The intensity of the effort is coming in waves, centering on Go NoGo points. Puddy has seen enough data to recommend a switch to the aft antenna, and Duke again relays the message to Collins. A minor attitude change of the LM helps clear up some of the communications, but we still have signal breakups to contend with.

This is not going the way it should, and I remember the mission rule on data needed for landing. It is up to me to decide if we have enough to continue. I am thankful that I swung the rule change to allow making the final call much later in the descent. Communications and data improve momentarily, and we listen to the final checklist items as the crew prepares to start the descent engine. All checklist items are complete both on the ground and in the air, then the mission smoothes out in the sixty seconds prior to starting down.

The intercom crackles, the voices diced and chopped, staccato. I listen for any hint of concern or confusion. The voices have the steady, cool response of a well-tuned aircraft engine on a sunny day aloft. We are now engaged; the battle has been joined. The communications problem is the opening salvo. I am sure there will be more as I listen for the word “Flight!” to trigger me into the action chain. On a couple of occasions I have to order everyone to keep the level of chatter down in the control room because I have to be able to hear all the controllers, sometimes two or more of them speaking at once on the comm loop.

As we approach the start of the burn, the noise on the air-ground voice comm starts to sound like bacon sizzling in the skillet, indicating another imminent loss of communications. As the wall clock hits zero, the crew calls out, “Engine start… 10 percent thrust.” The lunar module uses a low thrust level to settle the propellants in the rear of the tank before going to full throttle. As the crew continues to throttle up, data is again lost. The team reacts swiftly to recover communications. Puddy requests the LM aft antenna. Duke relays the request, and Collins calls Aldrin to switch antennas. While communications are being restored, Bales indicates he now has a problem.

The landing target is in the center of a ten-mile-long and three-mile-wide oval area (the “footprint”). To hit the landing point the LM descent engine must be started at a precise velocity 260 miles before the target. The pressure in the tunnel at separation changed the planned velocity at the ignition point.

“Flight, [this is] Guidance. We’re out in the radial component of velocity. I’m halfway to my abort limit. I’ll watch it, and if it doesn’t grow, I think we’ll make it.” Bales’s concern is that the navigation system may be in error and that it will affect the trajectory during landing or if we abort late in the descent. I am also becoming concerned over the trajectory because Steve’s words confirm FIDO’s call that the altitude is a bit low.

Like a bolt of lightning, the data is suddenly restored. The controllers make a quick assessment, and all systems are Go. Radar data continues to be “ratty” and is frequently lost. We have just enough to provide the needed data comparisons between the ground indications and those on the Eagle . Bales continues his assessment. The downrange error is not increasing, so he determines that the navigation is good. With data steady for the moment, we verify proper thrust levels. Aldrin calls from the Eagl e: “I’m seeing some fluctuation in the AC voltages.” We quickly confirm that the electrical system is looking good on the ground, and Aldrin concludes that the hitch is in the meter on board.