Chapter 241: Return To Earth
Kranz from the mission control center responded: “Roger, Eagle.”
Liftoff time set at 124 hours 22 minutes 01 seconds, approximately 17:54 UTC.
All systems normal, good luck.”
In the control room, Lin Ran whispered to Lyndon Johnson beside him: “Mr. President, the ascent engine has only one chance and must be flawless.
But rest assured, we’ve checked countless times, and the engine status is absolutely good.”
Lyndon Johnson gripped his hands tightly and replied softly: “This is our promise to the world; we cannot fail.”
Lin Ran knew that now it was all people around, so the other party definitely wouldn’t say his real thoughts.
The countdown began, and the control center’s voice echoed in the headphones: “Ten, nine, eight…”
Armstrong’s hand was steadily on the control stick, Aldrin staring intently at the dashboard, reading data: “Fuel pressure normal, engine preheat complete.”
“Five, four, three, two, one, ignition!” The ascent engine roared to life, the lunar module gently vibrating, and the astronauts inside felt a gentle thrust.
The Moon’s low gravity made liftoff lighter than a rocket launch on Earth.
Through the triangular small window, Aldrin saw the gray-white surface of the Sea of Tranquility rapidly receding, and the Stars and Stripes they had planted fell under the impact of the engine exhaust.
“The national flag fell!” Aldrin exclaimed, his tone filled with regret.
Armstrong focused on the instruments and calmly reported: “Control center, Eagle is lifting off, pitch and roll normal.”
But inside, excitement surged: “We’re really leaving the Moon!”
Then he turned to Aldrin and said: “It’s okay, we’ll right it next time we go.”
This moon landing, originally planned by NASA, was to land at the place where Gagarin went last time, but because it was advanced by a year, the mission was changed to land in the Sea of Tranquility.
In the control room, the screen showed the lunar module’s trajectory gradually rising, and the engineers held their breath.
Lin Ran said softly: “Well done, Buzz.”
Then he turned to Lyndon Johnson and said: “Mr. President, everything is smooth.”
President Johnson clapped and applauded: “They did it!”
In the live television broadcast, CBS anchor Walter Cronkite’s voice was filled with excitement: “Eagle has lifted off from the lunar surface! America has successfully left the Moon by its own power! The heroic astronauts are about to return to Earth!”
In the control center, everyone was still tense; they couldn’t relax like the audience in front of the television.
For the audience, the end of the live broadcast meant the end of the moon landing, and the global public had witnessed the complete process of the moon landing, much more complete than the Soviet Union’s last moon landing.
The live broadcast ended, but the television program hadn’t; the follow-up was just not live footage, but simulated animations describing the progress of the Apollo moon landing.
For NASA’s staff, it was far from over.
The follow-up included the docking of the lunar module and command module, and the command module’s return, none of which were that simple.
Honestly, returning to Earth last was the hardest.
Although there was Soviet data, their strategy was different.
The lunar module shut down the engine after 435 seconds, entering an initial 11 by 55 mile orbit, about 13 miles from the command module Columbia.
Armstrong and Aldrin began adjusting the orbit, using the reaction control system to adjust Eagle’s orbit to a nearly 56-mile circular orbit, closer to Columbia.
In the command module, Michael Collins orbited the Moon alone, feeling unprecedented loneliness.
He tracked the lunar module’s signal via radar, his heart tense and expectant.
He recalled the trio’s laughter at the mission’s start and murmured: “Come back soon, guys.”
When the radar showed Eagle approaching, he breathed a sigh of relief and said over the radio: “Cape Canaveral control center, I have Eagle’s signal, distance about 10 miles.”
The lunar module performed a series of orbit adjustments, including concentric orbit rendezvous, constant altitude difference, and terminal phase initiation, to match Columbia’s orbit.
Aldrin stared at the radar, reading data: “Distance 100 feet, approach speed 2 feet per second.”
When Eagle was approaching 40 feet, Armstrong saw the command module’s docking probe through the window.
He said softly: “I see Columbia, preparing to align.”
Aldrin reminded: “Align our window to his right window, don’t roll right.”
Armstrong nodded: “Understood, holding steady.”
“Roger, Columbia. Preparing docking procedure,” Collins responded.
Suddenly, the attitude indicator began fluctuating violently. Armstrong frowned: “We have a problem!”
Aldrin glanced at the gimbal angle: “We’re in gimbal lock!”
Gimbal lock was a situation where the navigation system lost one degree of freedom, potentially causing attitude loss of control.
Armstrong quickly switched to the abort guidance system: “Switching to AGS, Doctor, help me stabilize.”
Aldrin called out adjustment commands: “Pitch up 5 degrees, yaw left 2 degrees.”
Armstrong operated the thrusters, the cabin slightly shaking in lunar orbit, and after several minutes of tense adjustment, it finally stabilized.
“Okay, back on track,” Armstrong breathed a sigh of relief, sweat sliding down his forehead.
Distance narrowed to 10 feet, Armstrong estimated: “He has 10 feet… now about 5 feet.”
Through the window, the docking probe was clearly visible. Collins adjusted attitude in the command module to ensure probe alignment: “Looking good, Eagle.”
The two spacecraft gently made contact, and Collins activated the retraction mechanism.
“Cape Canaveral control center, preparing to dock,” Collins reported.
But suddenly, the combined spacecraft began oscillating violently, especially in roll.
Collins exclaimed: “What’s happening?”
Armstrong felt the shaking: “We’re oscillating!”
He realized that applying forward thrust without perfect center alignment caused attitude deviation, and the automatic system fired to correct, triggering oscillation.
Armstrong quickly disengaged attitude hold and manually stabilized the spacecraft.
With a soft click, the lunar module’s probe inserted into the command module’s hatch.
“Capture!” Collins shouted excitedly.
“Cape Canaveral control center, docking complete,” Armstrong confirmed, his voice filled with relief.
Seconds later, the oscillation weakened, and the docking latches clicked into lock.
“Hard dock!” Collins confirmed, his voice filled with relief.
Armstrong breathed a sigh of relief: “Okay, we’re yours, Columbia.”
Collins replied with a laugh: “I didn’t feel the impact, felt pretty steady, but when I hit retract, things got messy.”
Armstrong explained: “Yes, I deviated from center when applying forward thrust, and the automatic system fired to correct.”
In the control room, telemetry data confirmed successful docking, and the engineers erupted in cheers.
The control room erupted in thunderous applause, Lin Ran relieved, stood up and pumped his fist in celebration: “Awesome!”
(The elliptical rendezvous orbit from the lunar module and command module docking—for which Buzz Aldrin specially wrote a paper on this topic before the moon landing. It must be said that Aldrin, as a PhD in orbital mechanics, it’s perfectly normal for him to feel psychologically imbalanced about not being the first to moon land.)
Lyndon Johnson immediately glanced at Humphrey, then stood up, clapping and cheering: “They’re back!”
Humphrey knew it was time to let the White House photographer capture this moment, the tall figure of Mr. President.
The focus of the image was Mr. President, not the professor.
The television live footage switched to an animated simulation of the docking scene, Cronkite commenting: “Lunar module successfully docked with command module! The astronauts are about to reunite!”
After docking, Aldrin and Armstrong opened the lunar module’s hatch, crawled through the narrow docking tunnel, and entered the command module.
They carried 47.5 pounds of moon rocks and soil samples, as well as 16mm film rolls, recording precious images of the lunar surface.
Collins welcomed them in the command module, beaming: “Welcome back, guys! How was the Moon?”
Armstrong grinned: “A magnificent desolate place.”
Aldrin added: “Dust everywhere, but breathtakingly beautiful.”
They secured the sample box in the storage compartment and took off their bulky spacesuits, finally able to rest a bit.
Collins joked: “You brought so many rocks, the scientists will go crazy. Oh right, and Mr. President—Mr. President has always been indignant that the moon soil the Soviet people gave us from the last moon landing was just a little bit.”
With everything ready, it was time to say goodbye to Eagle.
Collins operated the console and initiated the separation sequence: “Alright, let’s jettison Eagle.”
He flipped a switch, explosion bolts fired with a low thud, and the docking latches released.
Through the porthole, they saw Eagle slowly drifting away, its silver-white shell gleaming faintly in the moonlight, gradually disappearing into the black space.
Armstrong gazed at the departing lunar module, feeling emotional: “It took us to the Moon; now it’s time for it to rest.”
Aldrin patted his shoulder: “It completed its mission, and so did we.”
Collins reported over the radio: “Cape Canaveral control center, lunar module jettisoned.”
Kranz responded: “Roger, Columbia. Prepare for trans-Earth injection.”
After jettisoning the lunar module, command module Columbia prepared to perform trans-Earth injection burn, leaving lunar orbit for the three-day return journey.
Trans-Earth injection burn was one of the mission’s most critical steps; the service propulsion system had to fire precisely—any deviation could cause the spacecraft to miss the trajectory or fail to return to Earth.
In the control center, Lin Ran directly calculated the specific parameters and told commander Kranz: “Ignition time 130:30:00 GET, duration 2 minutes 30 seconds, velocity increment about 3280 feet per second.”
The data was transmitted to the spacecraft via radio.
Armstrong, as commander, supervised, while Collins handled operations and Aldrin monitored the navigation system.
The three adjusted the spacecraft’s attitude according to the guidance computer’s commands, aligning the SPS engine in the correct direction.
Collins stared at the dashboard: “Attitude locked, pitch 150 degrees, yaw 0 degrees.”
Armstrong did a final systems check: “All systems normal.”
Aldrin read data: “Fuel pressure stable, engine preheat complete.”
In the control center, everyone stared intently at the screens.
Kranz said over the radio: “Columbia, Cape Canaveral, trans-Earth injection ignition countdown 10 seconds.”
“10, 9, 8…” Collins counted down, the cabin silent except for the hum of instruments.
“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, ignition!” The SPS engine roared to life, the spacecraft shaking violently, thrust pressing the three into their seats.
Armstrong felt the familiar acceleration and thought to himself: “We’re going home.”
Aldrin stared at the display screen, confirming velocity increment: “Velocity increasing, trajectory normal.”
After 2 minutes 30 seconds, the engine shut down, and the computer showed the spacecraft had entered the Earth return trajectory.
Collins reported: “Cape Canaveral control center, trans-Earth injection complete. We’re on our way home.”
The control room erupted in thunderous applause.
Lyndon Johnson stood and hugged Lin Ran: “Professor, this is America’s victory!”
The White House photographer successfully captured the moment, and Humphrey thought to let the photo speak.
Though he admired Lin Ran, he valued the vice president’s identity more—if Lyndon Johnson was out, he would be too.
Lin Ran nodded: “Exactly.”
He thought to himself that such a victory would soon appear in China, though it was another spacetime’s China, but he believed this spacetime’s China could do it too.
India talks big, but Chinese people always deliver.
Command module Columbia arced through the vast universe, carrying astronauts Aldrin, Armstrong, and Collins on the final journey back to Earth.
Their mission was complete; now they faced the most dangerous challenge: traversing Earth’s atmosphere at 11,032 meters per second and splashing down safely in the Pacific Ocean.
In the Cape Canaveral control center, everyone was somewhat tense—this was the final moment.
The global public held their breath via live television, awaiting the outcome of this historic moment.
In the hours before Earth atmosphere entry, the astronauts began final reentry preparations.
Command module Columbia was still connected to the service module via umbilicals, which had provided propulsion, electricity, and oxygen support for the entire mission.
Now, its task was done.
Collins sat in the command module’s left seat, scanning the control panel to confirm all systems ready.
He pressed the separation button, and with a soft pop, the service module slowly detached, floating into black space.
Collins looked through the porthole at the service module receding.
He said softly: “Goodbye, old buddy, you did great.”
His voice carried a touch of emotion; this mechanical companion had accompanied them on the 380,000 km Earth-Moon journey and now had to stay in space alone.
Armstrong patted his shoulder and smiled: “It completed its mission; now it’s our turn.”
Aldrin busied himself checking the moon sample box, ensuring the 47.5 pounds of rocks and soil were securely fixed in the cabin.
He opened a storage compartment and removed some unnecessary equipment to lighten the command module.
“These rocks are treasures,” he said smiling to his companions, “the scientists will go crazy for them.”
Kranz from mission control confirmed over radio: “Apollo 11, Cape Canaveral, service module separation confirmed. Prepare attitude adjustment.”
Armstrong responded: “Roger, Houston, adjusting attitude.”
His voice steady, masking inner tension.
He knew the upcoming reentry would test their technology and courage.
The command module needed precise attitude adjustment to ensure the heat shield faced Earth, to withstand reentry heat.
(Columbia command module successfully returned to Earth)
Collins operated the reaction control system thrusters, the cabin slowly rotating, heat shield aligned forward.
Dashboard indicator lights flashed green, showing correct attitude.
Armstrong checked entry angle data, ensuring flight path angle -6.48 degrees, error not exceeding 0.5 degrees.
He said softly: “Angle must be perfect—too steep and we burn up, too shallow and we bounce back to space.”
Aldrin stared at the display screen, reading data: “Roll 0 degrees, pitch 150 degrees, yaw 1 degree.”
Collins confirmed: “Attitude locked, systems normal.”
The three reinstalled launch seats, fastened seatbelts, preparing for impending gravity acceleration.
The seats’ metal frames creaked softly in the cabin, reminding them of the violent shaking ahead.
December 21 at 12:35 EDT (16:35 UTC), the command module entered Earth’s atmosphere at 36,194 feet per second (about 11,032 meters per second), officially beginning reentry.
Outside the cabin, the heat shield endured 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit, ablative material gradually melting to carry away heat, protecting the interior.
Through the porthole, the astronauts saw a blazing plasma glow encircling the command module like a sea of fire.
Aldrin picked up the 16mm camera and filmed the spectacular sight through the right porthole.
“It’s like flying into a meteor!” he exclaimed excitedly.
Communications blacked out due to plasma sheath, lasting about 3 minutes 45 seconds.
Inside the cabin, silence except for the dashboard hum and astronauts’ breathing.
G-forces gradually increased to peak 6.3g, pressing the three firmly into their seats.
Armstrong stared at the display screen, monitoring trajectory data, thinking: “Hold steady, systems normal.”
His body nearly immobile under gravity, but his gaze never left the instruments.
Aldrin gritted his teeth, feeling chest pressure.
He recalled the light steps on the Moon: “From the Moon’s 1/6 gravity to this 6 times gravity—worlds apart.”
Collins focused on the reaction control system, ready for manual attitude adjustment.
His heart full of anticipation: “We’ve come this far; home is in sight.”
In the control center, Lin Ran held his breath too, staring at the timer on the screen.
Every second of comm blackout felt like a century.
Kranz said softly: “They should be coming out soon.”
Lyndon Johnson gripped the chair back, praying softly: “God bless them.”
At mission elapsed time 195 hours 07 minutes 00 seconds, communications finally restored.
Armstrong’s voice came over the radio: “Houston, Apollo 11, we’ve passed through the heat layer, all normal.”
The control room erupted in thunderous cheers; Lin Ran grabbed the microphone from Kranz: “Well done, Neil! Welcome back! You’re on radar, trajectory perfect.”
In the television broadcast, CBS anchor Cronkite excitedly commentated: “They’ve passed through the fire! Apollo 11 safely through reentry!”
The command module continued decelerating; at mission elapsed time 195 hours 12 minutes 08 seconds, drogue chutes deployed, cabin feeling a gentle tug.
Aldrin reported: “Professor, drogue chutes deployed.”
Now responsible for radio contact with them was Lin Ran instead of Kranz.
Immediately after, at mission elapsed time 195 hours 12 minutes 56 seconds, main parachutes opened, cabin swaying gently in the air, descending slowly.
Collins laughed: “We’re floating like a big parachute—feels good!”
Armstrong nodded: “Smoother than jumping on the Moon.”
Control center confirmed: “Apollo 11, Cape Canaveral, main parachutes confirmed, estimated splashdown point 13.32°N, 169.17°W.”
Lin Ran stood, removed his headphones, turned to the team: “Prepare to welcome the heroes home.”
At 16:50 UTC, command module Columbia splashed down in the Pacific Ocean, water spraying, waves slapping the hull. The cabin rocked gently on the sea, buoyancy devices keeping it upright.
The astronauts breathed sighs of relief, unfastened seatbelts, and high-fived in celebration.
Armstrong smiled: “We’re home, guys.”
Aldrin patted his seat: “What a journey.”
Collins joked: “Next time I’ll bring coffee; this was exhausting.”
Rescue helicopters arrived quickly; Navy divers approached the command module, installed buoyancy devices, and opened the hatch. The astronauts donned biological isolation suits, preparing transfer to the USS Hornet carrier.
Lyndon Johnson personally greeted them on the deck, face beaming with victory.
Lyndon Johnson waved to the astronauts through the quarantine chamber window: “You’re humanity’s heroes!” Armstrong replied: “Thank you, Mr. President; this is our shared victory.”
Global television viewers witnessed this via live broadcast.
“Today, what we’ve witnessed is not just a technological victory, but a testament to the endless glory of humanity’s spirit of exploration.
When Aldrin stepped onto the Moon, he represented not just America, but all humanity. This is a moment forever engraved in history, proof of the peaks we can reach when we dare to dream and strive relentlessly!
This achievement is the crystallization of countless years of dedication, wisdom, and sacrifice.
From engineers designing spacecraft to astronauts risking their lives, every participant contributed to this feat.
We must not forget the pioneers who paved the way, their foresight and courage leading us here.
But this is more than a moon landing! It concerns endless future possibilities, the tomorrow of space exploration, breakthroughs and discoveries in science, and inspiration for future generations.
If we can go to the Moon once, we can go twice, three times; in the future, there will be moon cities, routine flights between Earth and Moon, and ordinary people can go for moon tourism.
I’m already looking forward to what the professor says in interviews about ordinary people being able to go to space stations for tourism within a decade.
The moon landing is just a stepping stone to the universe; it reminds us: with dreams in our hearts, nothing is impossible!
When we gaze at those blurry images from the Moon, we are connected by awe and wonder.
We are reminded of our place in the universe, Earth’s fragility, and the unlimited potential deep in each of our hearts.
This moment transcends borders, politics, and divisions; it is humanity’s shared experience, our collective leap!
Let this be our starting point! Let this moment be the catalyst for exploration and discovery! Let us continue challenging limits, exploring the unknown, pursuing deeper understanding of the universe.
The moon landing is not the end, but the beginning of a new era in human history!
Borrowing the professor’s words: ‘This is not just one small step for an astronaut, but one giant leap for humanity.’
Today, we have taken this step again, standing at the threshold of a new frontier.
With hope and determination, let us believe the stars are within reach and welcome this moment!
This is not just a victory, but a promise—a promise to the future.
We stand here, gazing at the starry sky, knowing this is just the beginning. With fearless courage and indomitable will, let us press on, touch those distant stars, and write even more magnificent chapters for humanity.
Because today, we have proven once again: humanity’s dreams have no limits, and our journey is to the sea of stars!
This is CBS News television anchor Walter Cronkite. Let’s look forward to the professor and NASA bringing us more miracle moments; Cronkite will accompany you in front of the television through live broadcasts and voice during these miracle moments!”
On Earth, television viewers lingered, unwilling to change channels, still immersed in the shock of this feat.
