Chapter 339: The Accident Of The Third Moon Landing
If one word to describe this year, Lyndon Johnson would undoubtedly choose “rollercoaster.”
But this isn’t an up-and-down rollercoaster; it’s one that goes up and then keeps falling.
At the beginning of the year, the professor successfully mediated in Geneva, the temporary ceasefire agreement for the Vietnam War was signed, the dawn of a peaceful resolution to the Vietnam War appeared, polls returned to their peak, surpassing party primary competitors, becoming the Donkey Party presidential candidate.
Lyndon Johnson originally thought he would rise from the dead; after all, things couldn’t get any worse, right?
Already at the bottom, it could only go up from there.
Who knew, things didn’t have the worst, only worse.
The four consecutive assassination cases of Martin Luther King, the professor, Robert Kennedy, and Hoover completely shattered his polls; two of the four died, and among them, Edgar Hoover was the most vicious massacre, carried out in the name of V, wiping out federal employees as well.
Edgar Hoover, who controlled America’s violent machine and still had federal employee protection even after leaving office, a truly significant figure, died so suddenly; the killer has no news to this day, and even the federal side couldn’t investigate clearly whether the V at the Kennedy assassination scene was the same person.
This incident caused everyone in Washington to live in fear, from the public to the elite; Lyndon Johnson completely lost trust.
Power comes from position, but sometimes, power is more than just position.
Lyndon Johnson was still in the White House, but he was no longer in the White House.
“Hello, Richard? This is Lyndon Johnson.” Before stepping onto the podium, Lyndon Johnson’s last call was to Nixon.
This was tradition: after confirming defeat, the loser calls the winner to congratulate.
Of course, not everyone does this; like in 2020, when big T lost to Old Bai, he refused to admit defeat, refused to call Old Bai, and later caused the Capitol incident.
In this era, veteran politicians still had that much vision.
“Mr. President, glad to receive your call; tonight is an important night.” Nixon wasn’t surprised to receive the call; it would be surprising not to.
Lyndon Johnson said bitterly, “Richard, first congratulations; you won a hard-fought election.
This proves the will of the American people; I will soon announce the results to my supporters at headquarters.
Before that, I want to say personally to you: congratulations on becoming the next president.”
Nixon thought, hard-fought where? It wasn’t as hard as his 1962 California governor election. “Thank you, Mr. President; your call moves me. This campaign was indeed intense; I respect you and the ideals represented by the Donkey Party. Now that the election is over, we need to unite to face the country’s challenges.”
Veteran politicians think one thing and say another; no matter how easy Nixon found the election, he still had to say it was difficult.
In the past, after elections ended, society returned to normal; everyone respected the results, and losers tried again next time.
Of course, that was the past; the new generation of politicians led by big T doesn’t want to follow this playbook: if I win, I win; if I lose, I still win—you cheated to beat me. The end of the election isn’t the start of mending divisions but further tearing.
In the stock era, past elections are increasingly ill-suited to the new environment.
This isn’t a problem of the system; it’s a problem of human nature.
Lyndon Johnson nodded, “Exactly, Richard; we have too much work to do: Vietnam War, civil rights, economy, Cold War, aerospace. During the transition, I will fully cooperate with your team; the doors of the White House are open to you anytime; we must ensure the country moves forward steadily.”
After a pause, Lyndon Johnson added, “Richard, you will keep the professor in the White House, right?”
Nixon, far away in California, smiled upon hearing this: “Of course, Mr. President; the professor saved me from the abyss. Without him, your opponent today wouldn’t be Richard Nixon, but another Elephant Party candidate, maybe Fred, maybe Nelson Rockefeller.
The professor is the only choice for NASA director; if he wants other positions, I would try to satisfy him, except vice president.”
Because the vice president might succeed the president, he must be a native-born American, at least 35 years old, and have resided in America for at least 14 years.
After hearing this, Lyndon Johnson confirmed, “That’s good; the professor is unbelievably smart; you can chat with him about many things and listen to his suggestions. Well, I think you definitely will, after all, from 1962 to today, the election strategy directions were all formulated by the professor for you.
I want to confirm one more thing: will you continue the Star Wars Program?”
Nixon said, “I will confirm based on the army’s reaction whether it’s necessary, but from the information I have now, of course I will maintain it.”
Lyndon Johnson breathed a sigh of relief after hearing this, because only the Star Wars Program could save his legacy.
“Good, finally congratulations again; good luck, may God bless you and America.”
Nixon replied, “I appreciate your generosity, Mr. President.
I will form a transition team as soon as possible and listen to your suggestions; your experience is precious to us. Take care.”
After hanging up, Lyndon Johnson took a deep breath; he knew the final moment had come. He walked to the venue; supporters below the stage had tears in their eyes, unprecedentedly silent; the television station host had already announced Nixon’s victory.
As Johnson appeared, the TV sound was turned down; the conference host began playing slightly sad blues jazz. He tapped the microphone:
“Dear friends, supporters, and all compatriots who devoted heart and soul to our campaign:
Tonight, we stand here facing a result we did not anticipate.
I just spoke on the phone with our opponent, congratulated him, and promised we will support the country’s smooth transition with utmost sincerity.
This is a moment of democracy, a moment when Americans unite.
I know tonight is hard for many of us.
We fought together, dreaming of a fairer, more united America.
We fought to improve every American’s life, to advance civil rights, eliminate poverty, and maintain peace.
These goals cannot be achieved overnight, but they are our shared belief, the lighthouse we strive for.
I thank you all: every volunteer, every donor, every person in the community spreading our ideals.
Your efforts move me; your beliefs strengthen me.
Your contributions are priceless; even if tonight’s result is not as we wished, your efforts will never be forgotten.
Our journey has not been smooth sailing.
In the past few years, our country has experienced turmoil and challenges, from the struggles of the civil rights movement to the pain of the Vietnam War, starting with President Kennedy’s assassination and ending with Robert Kennedy’s assassination; we have been striving to find the right path.
I know our policies and decisions don’t always win everyone’s support, but I always believe our starting point is to make this country stronger and fairer.
Tonight’s failure does not mean our ideals are negated.
On the contrary, it reminds us that democracy is an ongoing process, a journey requiring constant effort and dialogue.
We must continue listening to each other, speaking for the overlooked, striving for equality and opportunity for every American.
I especially want to say to the young people: your passion, ideals, and courage are the hope for this country’s future.
Don’t be discouraged by tonight’s result. Your voices are more important than ever.
Keep fighting, keep believing; the future America will be better because of you.
Finally, I want to express deepest thanks to my family, my wife Bird, and my team.
Here, I especially thank the professor; in these years, he has been my mentor and friend; our cooperation has been intimate and immensely enjoyable. Together, we sent Americans into space, to the Moon.”
Lin Ran was also watching TV; seeing Lyndon Johnson mention him specifically, Lin Ran grinned; he felt deeply touched. He had outlasted another American president and was about to welcome the next one, Nixon.
Would the next one be better for America? He didn’t know, but the next one would definitely be better for him.
During Nixon’s term, he completed the visit to China, return to the United Nations, alliance with China to counter Russia, and decoupling from the Bretton Woods system.
This was much more interesting than just assassinations back and forth.
And Lin Ran had prepared a big gift for Nixon too.
In December, the third Apollo moon landing, Cape Canaveral Launch Complex; this was also the last time Lyndon Johnson watched a rocket launch as president before leaving office.
“Mr. President, welcome to Cape Canaveral.”
When Air Force One landed at Cape Canaveral’s airport, Lin Ran said to Lyndon Johnson stepping off the special plane.
Lyndon Johnson’s expression was normal; his overall state was much better than before; sometimes, uncertainty torments the will more than failure.
“Professor, I’m about to leave the White House. Before leaving, I confirmed that Nixon will still hire you as NASA director,” Lyndon Johnson said.
Lin Ran paused, then sincerely said, “Mr. President, thank you, thank you for securing this position for me.”
Lyndon Johnson smiled: “Professor, whether I say it or not, the probability of Nixon hiring you as NASA director is over 90%. The reason I confirmed with him was also for my own sake.
With you at NASA, I believe the Star Wars Program will be realized; without you, with someone else, I don’t believe it.
This concerns whether my memoir after retirement sells a few more copies, concerns my pension; can’t be careless.”
Pension was fake; anyone who becomes president won’t worry about money in retirement life; legacy was real.
Lin Ran understood, “Mr. President, rest assured; I will fully push for the completion of the Star Wars Program.”
Lyndon Johnson said, “Professor, there will be one more thing to trouble you later; if I publish my memoir and ask you to write the foreword, you can’t refuse.”
Lin Ran nodded: “I won’t.”
Before launch, thousands of spectators surrounded the Cape Canaveral Launch Center.
Now, it was a space tourism holy site like Sanya Wenchang Rocket Launch Center.
Especially before Saturn V launch, crowds outside were particularly large because it was big.
What could draw more than Saturn V launch was Burning No. 1’s recovery process; NASA would announce the landing point in advance, cordon off a viewing area for the public to watch the recovery.
On launch pad 39A, Saturn V stood like a steel monster, height reaching 110 meters, like a silver-white monument, ready to send humans to the Moon again.
On the ground, technical personnel bustled with final checks; speakers echoed with countdown: “T minus 10 minutes, all systems ready.”
In the transporter, Aldrin said to his two colleagues: “Brothers, this time we’re going to Fra Mauro Highlands; according to the professor, the Moon’s oldest secrets await us there.”
On this mission with him were Jim Lovell and Jack Swigert.
Jack Swigert was one of the few astronauts who voluntarily stayed in the command module instead of moon landing.
The three in heavy spacesuits entered the white room, the enclosed prep area on the launch pad.
Aldrin first entered the command module Odyssey, climbed into the narrow seat, buckled the seatbelt.
Jim and Jack followed.
Cabin air pure and cool, filled with 100% oxygen to prevent nitrogen bubbles.
Dashboard lights flashed, displaying data: fuel pressure, oxygen levels, navigation system.
Aldrin pressed the comm button: “Cape Canaveral, this is 13, all ready.”
CapCom Joe Kerwin in ground control responded: “Roger, doctor, countdown continues.”
Now it was no longer Lin Ran’s turn to command personally.
As an astronaut on his third moon trip, Aldrin earned respect from almost everyone at NASA.
“T minus 5 minutes,” the speaker announced.
Jack checked the reentry battery: “Battery C shows 36 volts, all normal.”
Jim adjusted the cooling loop pumps: “Cooling system online.”
Aldrin finally aligned the gyroscope: “GDC alignment complete.”
Outside the cabin, swingarm 9 retracted to 12-degree position, launch escape system armed.
T minus 8.9 seconds, five F-1 engines of first stage ignited, spewing hot flames.
The entire launch pad shook, noise like thunder roaring, vibrations transmitting to the astronauts’ bodies.
“T minus 0.” Saturn V released from hold-down, slowly rising.
Aldrin calmly said: “The clock is running!”
Jack stared at the DSKY display: “P11 program running, Jim.”
Rocket accelerated, G-forces pressing on their chests.
T plus 34 seconds: “Roll complete, we’re in pitch.”
T plus 1 minute 8 seconds, through sound barrier.
T plus 1 minute 41 seconds, max dynamic pressure; suddenly, T plus 2 minutes 16 seconds, center engine of first stage shut down early due to longitudinal oscillation, amplitude up to ±33.7g.
Aldrin frowned: “That shouldn’t have happened.”
Jack checked data: “Two minutes early, but outboard engines still pushing.”
In the ground control room, flight director Gene Kranz stared at the screen: “Stay calm, keep monitoring.”
T plus 2 minutes 48 seconds, first stage separation, second stage J-2 engines ignited.
Rocket continued climbing, passing the Kármán line, entering space’s vacuum.
Blue sky gradually darkened, outside becoming pitch-black starry sky.
T plus 5 minutes 32 seconds, second stage center engine also shut down early, but remaining engines compensated, burning out fuel.
T plus 9 minutes 50 seconds, second stage separation, third stage engine ignition.
T plus 12 minutes 31 seconds, engine cutoff, Apollo 13 entered Earth orbit.
Aldrin reported: “SECO, all normal.”
Kerwin in ground control responded: “13, Cape Canaveral, orbit good, proceed with TLI prep.”
In orbit, the spaceship orbited Earth at 7.8 km per second.
Cabin gravity gone, objects floating.
Jack unbuckled seatbelt, floated to the window: “Incredible; as they said, seeing with the naked eye is totally different from photos.”
They conducted system checks, including command service module’s fuel cells operating normally, providing electricity, water, and oxygen, Lunar Module Aquarius’s seals, etc.
Jack entered Verb 82, displaying Noun 44: orbital parameters perfect.
Two hours later, TLI burn, third stage reignited, pushing them to lunar orbit.
Jim felt the acceleration: “This is way more exaggerated than accelerating on the highway.”
Burn ended, they separated from S-IVB, entering free return trajectory; if problems arose, gravity would sling them back to Earth.
The first two days of the journey were calm and monotonous.
200,000 miles from Earth, they did routine maintenance: checking propulsion systems, navigation star alignment, eating dehydrated food.
Jack occasionally complained of stomach discomfort; dehydrated food was really unpalatable.
Aldrin handled TV broadcast, showing cabin life: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Apollo 13’s live show.”
After all, this was already the third moon landing; television stations had little interest, sparse audience; Aldrin couldn’t save the ratings.
55 hours 14 minutes after launch. Spaceship 330,000 km from Earth.
Ground detected slight oxygen pressure drop; Kranz ordered: “Jack, do cryo stir.”
Cryo stir was routine: start fans to stir supercold oxygen tanks, prevent stratification, ensure accurate readings.
Service module had two oxygen tanks and two hydrogen tanks for fuel cells.
Tank 2 was damaged during ground test: heater switch shorted, wire insulation burned, but undetected.
Jack pressed the switch: “Stirring started.”
Fan spun, current through damaged wire, sparking.
Tank temperature soared, pressure exceeding design limits.
Suddenly, 55 hours 55 minutes 20 seconds, a dull bang like a cannonball explosion. Cabin alarm lights flashed, voltage plummeted.
Jack’s eyes widened: “Oh my God, what was that?”
Aldrin urgently floated to the porthole, saw gas spewing from service module: “Not good; we’re leaking something into space.”
Instruments showed: Oxygen tank 2 pressure zero, tank 1 dropping rapidly; fuel cells 1 and 3 lost pressure, power system faltering.
Aldrin rushed to the microphone: “Okay, Cape Canaveral, we have a problem here. Kerwin, help me emergency call the professor!”
Jack repeated: “Cape Canaveral, we have a problem.”
Ground control room instantly descended into chaos.
Lin Ran was also in ground control center, but in the viewing room chatting idly with Lyndon Johnson; over these three days, Lyndon Johnson shared many Washington anecdotes with him.
Congressmen’s odd stories, thoughts on the Vietnam War, pressure as president, Fed’s loss of control, etc.
Lyndon Johnson felt he was imparting to the young junior the laws of survival in Washington.
Teaching the professor gave him a spiritual satisfaction hard to express in words; in the future, he could write about it extensively in his memoir.
Lin Ran gained many secrets not recorded in written documents.
Like Lyndon Johnson actually knew long ago that Humphrey also had intentions to run; Walter Rostow had privately defected to Humphrey; he knew all that.
What Lin Ran didn’t know, Lyndon Johnson did.
Like the relationship between Rostow and Humphrey, written records only mentioned it lightly: as a staunch hawk, Walter Rostow rarely compromised in the 1968 presidential election, publicly stating support for Humphrey’s peaceful resolution plan for the Vietnam War.
Public records only had that one sentence, but from Lyndon Johnson, he learned they had prior connections, friendships formed during certain bill formulations.
And so on, countless examples.
Lyndon Johnson spoke enthusiastically; Lin Ran listened enthusiastically.
“Professor, from Congress hall to Oval Office, I’ve always been at the center of power. To me, politics is never an abstract ideological game; its essence is handling people, managing relationships, harnessing ambitions, alleviating flaws, and channeling natural drives toward collective progress.
Because no matter how cleverly designed the system, from top to bottom it’s composed of people; composed of people involves human nature. The system isn’t a self-maintaining machine; it’s a living organism.
The Marshall Plan succeeded, while Soviet Union’s coercive measures led to repeated resistance in Eastern Europe, causing the Prague Spring; the Marshall Plan appealed to self-determination: aid countries to rebuild in their own ways, sparking innovation and trade, tapping human ambition.
Even in our own American experiment, we saw the dangers of ignoring human nature: the 1920s Prohibition aimed to create a sober, moral society through law, but it underestimated humans’ tendencies toward vice and rebellion, birthing organized crime and widespread lawbreaking.
When a country tries to defy these basic human realities—greed, fear, loyalty, innovation, and longing for freedom—it will inevitably fracture, creating a huge gulf between rhetoric and reality.”
Lyndon Johnson was in high spirits, planning to end his last Cape Canaveral trip as president with a long discourse on why the Soviet Union was doomed to fail; after finishing, America’s astronauts would have landed on the Moon’s soil again.
Then a knock sounded; after permission to enter, an NASA staff member rushed in panting:
“Professor, big trouble! Odyssey has a problem! Two oxygen tanks failed—one exploded, the other leaked; now the astronauts face unprecedented danger.
Aldrin hopes you can command personally.”
