Paul Gillebaard - USSR Hoax

The crowd hushed as all turned toward their boss, giving him their full attention. Tom stood behind David, looking over his shoulder.

Dick got right to the point. “Gentlemen, the men who will be flying to the moon are in this room.”

Tom straightened up, eyes wide. Maybe he was getting an Apollo assignment. The new guys started rocking back on the balls of their feet, surprised by the news. Tom looked over in the direction of Sam and some of the other veteran Gemini commanders. They showed little reaction, probably because they always expected to get one of the Apollo seats. Tom would have had the same confidence if he hadn’t disappointed his boss.

After placing both hands on the conference table, Dick leaned forward. “Because many tough objectives must be met with earlier Apollo flights, there’s no way for me to predict which mission will attempt that first landing. But one thing is for certain.” Dick surveyed the crowd as he moved away from the table, putting both hands into his pants pockets. A suspenseful silence hung over the astronauts as they all angled toward their boss to catch his next words. “The man who will make that first footstep on the moon is here among us. He will go down in history as one of the greatest men of this century, written about in all the history books.”

That’s some heavy stuff. Tom had never considered the full impact of such a feat—that the man making that first step on the lunar surface would be remembered for all time. Everyone started looking around at each other. Tom could tell by the smug looks that several of the men felt it would be them. After the mistakes on his Gemini mission, Tom had no such illusions. He looked over at Sam, who flashed him a confident wink.

Dick allowed his words to sink in, then picked up a piece of paper. He explained he was going to read off the assignments for the first Apollo missions, calling out the prime crew followed by its backup team. Being on a backup crew meant you were officially in the rotation, and per Dick’s system, you would probably fly three missions later. Tom rubbed his hands together as he listened intently to the first set of names.

Though any assignment would be great, the first few missions would be in Earth’s orbit to test out the new equipment. Having already experienced an orbital space flight above his planet, Tom wanted to be a part of a moon mission. He was rooting for his name to be called out on one of the backup crews, hopefully in the commander slot. In that position, he would certainly rotate onto a moon flight. He let out a sigh of relief when he wasn’t named to the first prime crew.

As Dick prepared to announce the names of the backup crew for the first flight, Tom focused on his boss’s mouth, trying to get an early indication if the letter “T” was being formed. Tom was disappointed when his name wasn’t called, nor was it for any of the slots on the second mission. However, his friend lucked out, snagging the backup Lunar Module Pilot position. Tom gave a congratulatory pat on David’s back when his name was called. Landing that slot meant his friend had an excellent chance of rotating onto a mission destined for the moon, and as the LMP, David would walk on its surface.

Tom was getting frustrated when he wasn’t mentioned for the third mission. The fact that astronauts with fewer qualifications were getting those slots convinced him he wasn’t getting a seat. Only two flights remained.

With his hand out of sight, Tom crossed his fingers.

Dick read off, “Sam Cunningham is the commander for the first F mission.”

Tom perked up. He was convinced he and Sam worked well together, and Dick usually didn’t split up proven crews. Plus, F missions were going to the moon. Even though the flight wasn’t scheduled to land, Tom was convinced if all of the Apollo missions preceding the flight went as planned, the mission could be moved up to be the first attempted landing. His only concern was Dick wanted an experienced astronaut in the Command Module Pilot seat. Tom wanted to walk on the moon, not circle it alone while his crewmates had all the fun. So far, the last few prime crews had rookies in the LMP slots.

“Earl Brown is the CMP.”

Tom instantly had mixed feelings hearing that name. Tom was a better pilot than Earl. It would almost be a slap in the face if he was named the LMP. For a few fleeting seconds before Dick disclosed who it would be, Tom found his pride preventing him from rooting for his name, even though he would fulfill his dream of stepping on the lunar surface.

Dick’s voice was clear and precise as the sound of the first letter gave Tom the feeling he was going to be called out. At least I’ll beat David to the moon. He leaned forward, preparing to jab his friend in the back, signaling his minor victory for being put on a prime crew.

“Todd Hawkins is the LMP.”

Tom dropped his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. Damn. If he didn’t get paired up with Sam, he probably wasn’t getting a seat. He kept his eyes trained to the floor as the final crews were announced. His name was never called. He looked up with a stoic expression, making sure not to show any disappointment. At least Chris didn’t get put on a crew. Tom would hate to hear the arrogant guy bragging about his future mission.

Dick said the meeting was over and excused them all. A sudden buzz began in the room—men congratulating each other.

It was obvious David was trying to hide his excitement when he turned around. “Sorry, Tom.”

Tom put on a happy face as he stuck out his hand. “Hey, don’t worry about me. Congratulations to you. Looks like you’re on your way to walking on the moon.”

After shaking hands, Tom turned dejectedly toward the exit. David followed, putting a consoling hand on his shoulder. His friend said in an encouraging tone, “I guarantee you’ll get one of the next assignments, and I’ll bet you’ll be the commander.”

Tom could only hope his friend was right. Before Tom could answer, Dick called out, “Hey, Tom, can you please stay back? I need to talk to you.”

Stopping in his tracks, Tom turned toward his boss. “Of course.” Tom gave a quick nod to David as he left.

Once the room had cleared, the two men sat down at the conference table. Dick had a set of files in front of him. “First of all, I know you’re disappointed I didn’t call your name. I don’t want you to get discouraged. The assignments I read off today had already been approved by the time I cleared you. There’ll be more missions, and I’ll seriously consider you for one of those.”

Tom was feeling better, especially since Dick appeared to have gotten over his anger at Tom’s mistakes on the Gemini mission. Being on the management team and curious how his boss selected the crews, he felt comfortable asking, “So do you have some master plan on who will fly what mission?”

Dick seemed to contemplate whether he should divulge his system. He tapped his fingers a few times on the table. “It’s a lot harder than you think. No, I don’t have a master plan. I know that’s what most of the guys think. Bottom line, I consider every one of you eligible to fly. The trick is, some missions are more challenging than others. For the harder missions, I need the top guys. But as I start putting together crews, personalities come into play. Then I have to take into account what mission the backup crew will rotate into, and will it be a good fit. It all becomes a very complicated puzzle that is constantly being updated and modified, especially as the personnel change.”

Tom appreciated getting insight on the process. “Well, hopefully I get back to being a full-time astronaut soon so you can plug me in.”

Dick straightened up. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m taking you out of management.”