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Astronaut Jim Lovell uses the sleeve of his flight suit to wipe condensation off a tiny window inside Apollo 13. He's hoping to get a clear view into space to track their location. It's just after midnight Houston time on April 14th, 1970, three hours after an explosion crippled his spacecraft.
Most of the ship's electronics are shut down to conserve power. It's gotten so cold here inside Apollo 13's lunar module that the astronaut's breath is condensing on every surface. Lovell presses his face up to the window and peers out, then turns towards his crewmates. Freddo? Jack? Come here. Take a look out the window. Tell me what stars you see.
The lunar module is so cramped that Fred Hayes and Jack Swigert have to put their heads together to peer out the window. Hayes points. "I see Vega, over there." Swigert points upward, to a different direction. "No, that's Vega." "What are you talking about? It's definitely that one. Look at how bright it is." Lovell interrupts their arguing. "Hey fellas, you're both wrong. Those aren't stars.
That's ice, which is gonna be hell on our guidance checks. After the explosion, Lovell reported an alarming observation to Houston. The spacecraft was spewing some kind of gas, which was turning into ice crystals in the cold vacuum of space. Many of those crystals are still drifting alongside the ship since there's no air in space to slow them down.
And now, Lovell realizes that not being able to distinguish stars from crystals is going to be a problem when it comes to navigation. To work properly, the guidance system uses stars as reference points. If it confuses a glittering ice crystal with a star, the ship could veer off target. Lovell sees Haze clench his jaw.
Swigert hangs his head solemnly. They all know that with these phantom stars, the task ahead has just become vastly more dangerous. The astronauts have to fire the spaceship's thrusters twice in the next 24 hours in order to get the ship back on a trajectory towards Earth. One burn before they reach the moon, and another burn after they slingshot around it.
Each firing has to be precise. If they're even off by a tenth of a degree, they might not have enough fuel for another burn to correct their course. But if they can't calibrate their guidance system by using the stars, the chances for mistakes are much higher. Without accurate guidance, the burns they have planned today might backfire completely and push them right past Earth. And if that happens, well...
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From Wondery, I'm Mike Corey, and this is Against the Odds. On April 13th, 1970, an explosion ruptured critical systems on the Apollo 13 spacecraft as it sped toward the moon. The three astronauts shut down the damaged command module and retreated.
into the cramped lunar module, the only part of the spacecraft that still was fully functioning. But the lunar module was built for short trips to the moon's surface, not space travel. And with dwindling water, heat, and power,
the crew faced a perilous days-long journey back to Earth. Meanwhile, at Mission Control in Houston, an elite group of NASA engineers scrambled to develop a plan to get the astronauts home alive. This is Episode 3, Tiger Team. ♪
Jack Swigert opens a locker in the command module and rummages through the crew's food. He picks out a dozen tinfoil packets of spaghetti, chicken salad, pea soup, and cinnamon toast. They float next to him in the weightlessness of space.
As chilly as the lunar module is, the command module is even colder. That's why Jim Lovell sent him here, to gather some food and water before it freezes, and to store it in the slightly warmer lunar module. After collecting the food, Swigert grabs a plastic bag and reaches for a water hose on the wall. He flips a switch.
As water pumps out of the hose into the bag, Swigert looks around, depressed by what he sees. The command module is his baby, his area of expertise. He was supposed to pilot it while Lovell and Hayes walked on the moon. Now it's been reduced to a storage room. Cold, dark, and creepy.
He's so lost in his thoughts that he overfills the water bag, and several blobs of water splash onto his canvas shoes. "Gah, hell." He snaps off the hose, but his feet are soaked, and given the cold, his shoes won't dry anytime soon. Swygert gathers the water and food packets, then carries them back to the lunar module.
He arrives to find Lovell and Fred Hayes arguing. They're both pointing at the instrument panel, jabbing their fingers at different dials and gauges. Lovell has been trying to turn their ship in a different direction to see if they can find a patch of space that's not polluted with twinkling ice crystals. Lovell's convinced they're still venting gas. Hayes insists they're not.
Damn it, guys. I wish you would talk about something I know. Hey, fellas. You're on a hot mic up there.
Let's watch the language." Swigert's eyes dart to a light on the instrument panel, and he groans. It's not just Houston listening. The TV networks are also patched in, ready to broadcast what they hear to the millions of people glued to the screens. "Great," Swigert thinks. "I just swore in front of the whole world."
But then Swigert sees Lovell wave his hand dismissively, and the message from his commander is clear. To hell with them!
Lovell then pats Swigert on the back and changes the subject. Houston, why don't you start feeding us the parameters for this first burn? Copy that. The flight team wants to know if you can start in a half hour. Negative. Fred and I, and Jack, need more time to prepare. Let's say an hour? Swigert smiles. He appreciates being included. If he has to endure this, he's glad he's doing it with a leader like Jim Lovell.
Chief Flight Director Gene Kranz raises his hands for silence. Everyone, quiet down. Let's get started. He's in a grey, windowless conference room at NASA headquarters. Two television monitors hang in the corners, and long sheets of graph paper with mission data hang on the wall. His team of a few dozen technical wizards sit around a conference table.
Your colleagues in Mission Control are plenty smart and capable, but they're too busy putting out fires to think about the big picture. That's the job of this group. We're calling you the Tiger Team. And you need to figure out how to get our boys home.
Kranz has two priorities to discuss. First, the consumables, the dwindling supplies of oxygen, water, and power. Second, the most dangerous aspect of the mission, the angle that they'll re-enter Earth's atmosphere.
He asks about oxygen first, the most critical resource. And for the first time since the explosion four hours ago, he finally gets some good news. It turns out that the lunar module has plenty of oxygen.
The mission's original plan called for Lovell and Hayes to leave and re-enter the module multiple times on the moon's surface. And with each exit, the astronauts would have vented all of the oxygen inside the capsule, wasting a huge amount.
With the lunar landing scrubbed, all that oxygen is now available. Plenty for the remainder of the mission. Carbon dioxide is a bigger concern. Kranz learns that engineer Ed Smiley is making progress jury-rigging a set of CO2 scrubbers.
Then Kranz learns more relatively good news. Given the ample amount of oxygen, the water supply isn't as dire as they thought, and the astronauts can always drink less if need be. Kranz takes a breath. Okay, this brings us to the real choke point, power. Here comes...
The news is bad. Normally, the lunar module requires 55 amps of electricity, but since the explosion damaged the fuel cells, the astronauts have far less power to operate the systems. There's also the matter of planning for re-entry, which is scheduled to take place around noon on Friday, three and a half days from now.
Just before the spacecraft re-enters the Earth's atmosphere, the astronauts will have to return to the command module, the only part of the spacecraft with a heat shield.
The command module will need to be rebooted so its guidance and communication systems are up and running, which means they have to save some of the ship's remaining power for that. As a result, they need strict power budgets for the lunar module and for reentry. For the lunar module, Kranz announces he's putting flight engineer Bill Peters in charge. For reentry power, he's picking electrical whiz kid John Aaron.
There's a murmur of surprise at his choice for managing reentry power, and Kranz can guess why. John Aaron is a tall and lanky kid from Oklahoma who's undeniably brilliant, but he's also just 27 years old.
Still, Aaron has already proved himself. On an earlier Apollo mission, lightning struck the spacecraft shortly after launch. Aaron got the electronics back online without losing a single instrument. Kranz knows Aaron can handle this crisis too. He walks over to Aaron and places a hand on his shoulder.
I'm giving John complete veto control over the power budget. You can plead your case for why your systems need more amps, but the final decision is his. That settled, Kranz turns toward the trickiest aspect of reentry: the angle at which the spacecraft enters Earth's atmosphere. If the craft enters at too shallow of an angle, it will skip off the atmosphere like a stone across a pond and sail into deep space, never to return.
But if the spacecraft enters at too steep of an angle, the atmosphere will slow the capsule too quickly, and the resulting g-forces will kill everyone on board. The sweet spot is an angle around 6.5 degrees. There's some wiggle room, but not much, which is why Kranz is putting his top flight guy on this problem, retrofire officer Chuck Dietrich.
Kranz looks around the room, meeting the eyes of everyone he can. Gentlemen, NASA will never, never lose an American in space. You have got to believe that this crew is coming home. Failure is not an option. Kranz watches everyone get to work. He feels cautiously optimistic. He knows the odds are long.
But he also knows his team is good. Damn good. Jim Lovell grips a white joystick inside the lunar module and eases it forward. He's trying to turn the Apollo spacecraft and getting increasingly frustrated at the ship's clumsy maneuvering.
"Ah, sorry. Too far forward. Let me reverse." As he nudges the joystick in different directions, puffs of gas escape different thrusters on the outside of the ship. These puffs change the ship's pitch, roll, and yaw, allowing Lovell to rotate the spacecraft in all three dimensions. At least, in theory.
During simulations in Houston, Lovell needed to control the weight of only the lunar module. Now, the lunar module has the command module and service module attached. 63,000 pounds of dead weight. He feels like he's trying to parallel park a bulldozer. The spacecraft keeps lurching all over the place. Now I'm too far back.
Hey Jack, you recognize any stars yet? Negative. Twinkle twinkle, little ice crystals. Lovell sighs. It's just minutes before they're supposed to fire the thrusters for the first burn, which will put them on the correct trajectory to slingshot them around the moon and start their return home. Lovell makes an executive decision.
Houston, we can't waste any more time. Let's do this burn as is and hope the guidance system hasn't drifted too much. But you need to brainstorm some ideas for checking our alignment next time. Copy that. It's not ideal, but we don't have any other options. Are you ready for this burn, then? Lovell checks with Hayes to his right and gets a thumbs up. He looks at Swigert near the window. Another thumbs up.
He tells Houston he'll start the burn. First, Lovell does one quick burn to shake loose any air bubbles in the fuel lines and make sure the rockets aren't damaged. Once he's confirmed that things are working well, he starts the larger burn. Lovell gets a good grip on the T-shaped throttle and jams it forward. This thrust lasts for 30 seconds at high power. Lovell feels the ship rumbling and vibrating around him.
At exactly 30 seconds, he cuts the throttle. We're through, Houston. How's our trajectory? Houston takes their time answering.
Lovell glances nervously at Haze and Swigert. Every second that passes only increases his worry. How far off could they be? "Jim, we just got word from the flight guys. Your trajectory is perfect." Haze and Swigert slap Lovell on the back. Having the first burn behind them is a huge relief.
Lovell knows, though, they're not out of the woods. A second, longer burn is coming up in 18 hours, after they slingshot around the moon. That gives them 18 hours to figure out a way to check their alignment, which will be essential, because after that second big burn, they won't have enough time or energy left to course-correct.
Fred Hayes closes his eyes inside the command module and shivers inside his thin mesh sleeping bag. It's 6:15 a.m., his first chance to rest since the explosion nine hours ago. But despite his exhaustion, it's simply too cold to sleep.
His hands feel numb, and every time he exhales, he can see his frosty breath. He can also hear Lovell arguing with Houston in the lunar module. He decides to hell with it. He's giving up on sleeping. He wipes the condensation off the window and studies the moon. It's 70% full and close enough to fill the whole window.
It's an awe-inspiring sight, one he's been waiting years to see. He's peered at the moon through powerful telescopes before, but nothing compares to being this close. The craters, the mountains, the sharp shadows. He marvels at the grandeur. He wishes his wife and kids back home could see this. After a moment, Haze rubs his eyes and floats up to the lunar module.
When he arrives, Lovell's head snaps around. "That's it? You barely slept an hour." Haze is surprised at Lovell's sharp tone. "It's too cold. No one can sleep in that." Lovell grunts in response, then returns to his conversation with Houston.
Hayes soon understands why he's frustrated. To save power, Lovell has shut down their communication equipment's amplifiers and filters, making the messages from Houston come in garbled. Once again, we did not copy, Houston. Repeat. Repeat. Look around for the...
Houston, this is a waste of time. Reconfigure some electronics, do what you need to, but fix this problem and don't bother contacting us until you do. To Hayes' surprise, Lovell shuts off his microphone. He just hung up on mission control. It's a shocking display of insubordination. Lovell then turns to Hayes. Well then, let's see just how cold the command module is.
I'm gonna get some shut-eye." Lovell then bounds up the tunnel and disappears. The whole scene leaves Haze uneasy. As a space rookie, he looks up to his commander, but even Lovell himself appears to be losing his cool. And if a rock-solid veteran like Jim Lovell is unnerved, that doesn't bode well for the rest of the mission.
For the first time, Hayes lets an unthinkable thought float into his mind. There might not be a way for them to get home. When you're hiring, time is of the essence. That's why more than 3.5 million businesses worldwide use Indeed to find exceptional talent fast. Indeed's powerful matching engine works quickly. So quickly that according to Indeed data worldwide, every minute 23 hires are made on Indeed.
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Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. Marilyn Lovell stands at her kitchen counter brewing coffee. It's 8 in the morning, and she figures she got maybe an hour of sleep last night. Her eyes are dry as sandpaper, and a fog envelops her brain.
She glances over at some half-eaten food on the counter. She knows she should eat something, but she simply isn't hungry. It's hard to believe this whole crisis just began last night. It's only Tuesday morning, and Mission Control says Jim won't be home until Friday at the earliest, if he even makes it home.
A car backfires and she jumps. She yanks back the kitchen curtain to see bedlam in front of her house. A half dozen news vans with reporters speaking to cameras in front of each. Every time someone arrives or leaves her house, the reporters chase them across the lawn. She snaps the curtain back and tries to focus on something productive. She grabs her coffee and scans the numbers posted on the wall near the telephone.
"Hello? Friendswood Nursing Home? I'm calling about my mother-in-law, Blanche Lovell. Jim's mother suffered a stroke recently and now lives in a nearby nursing home. She gets confused and upset easily since the stroke, so Marilyn tells the nursing home staff she doesn't want her distressed over Apollo 13. Please remove the television from her room. Say it needs repairs or something, and if she asks about Jim, tell her everything is fine.
I'll call her later. Marilyn hangs up and consults the list of phone numbers again. She needs to call her teenage son Jay at his boarding school in Wisconsin. She left a message for him last night, but still hasn't been able to speak to him directly. But before she can dial, the telephone rings.
Lovell household, Marilyn speaking. Marilyn, hello. This is Bob with NASA Public Affairs. We're getting a request from the head honchos at NBC. They want to put up a broadcast tower on your lawn. Can I go ahead and give the okay? A broadcast tower? Yeah, a couple stories high. Tops.
Marilyn is overcome with fury. These were the same people who aired Laugh-In instead of her husband's broadcast from space. Now that there's a crisis, they want to trample her lawn. She grips the phone and hisses into the receiver.
I don't want anyone putting a single piece of equipment on my property. And if anyone has any problem with that, tell them they can take it up with my husband. I'm expecting him home on Friday. She slams the phone down. Those media vultures can go to hell. But it's a short-lived triumph. Even if the reporters leave her alone, it doesn't help Jim.
And however confident she sounded just now, she knows it's going to take a miracle to get her husband home alive. Retro Fire Officer Chuck Dietrich steps forward to address his audience. It's the morning of Tuesday, April 14th, and they're huddled near Gene Kranz's desk in the back corner of Mission Control.
Dietrich's nervous, and not just because of the crisis. The audience number's just a dozen people, but he's never seen so many NASA bigwigs at once, and they're all staring at him, waiting for him to speak. Kranz already decided on the two-stage burn last night, and the first burn has been completed. But there's a new set of options they have to consider, because there are multiple ways they can do the second burn.
Dietrich begins laying them out. Okay, so we have three choices. First is what's called the super-fast burn.
In that scenario, after the spacecraft rounds the moon, Lovell would jam the throttle forward for six minutes, speeding up Apollo 13 and allowing it to splash down in the Atlantic Ocean, roughly 36 hours later. There's a murmur of delight. 36 hours would basically lift all constraints on the power shortage. A huge relief.
But Dietrich holds up his hand for caution. The super-fast burn has downsides as well.
First, the Navy currently has no rescue ships in the Atlantic. The crew would be stranded for hours after splashdown. That's dangerous because even though the capsule is designed to float, it's hardly seaworthy. It could tip over and drown them. Worse, to accelerate to such high speeds, the astronauts would have to cut weight by ditching the service module.
the part of the spacecraft that houses air tanks, fuel cells, and other life support systems.
Normally, the astronauts would jettison it right before reentry, but to reach high speeds, a super-fast burn would require losing the service module much earlier. Unfortunately, there's a risk with doing so, because the service module covers and protects the command module's heat shield. And no one knows if the heat shield can survive 36 hours of direct exposure
to the harsh environment of space. If the shield sustains any damage, the astronauts would burn upon reentry. As he finishes, Dietrich sees that the faces in the small crowd are somber again.
He goes on. Right, then, so we have a second option: the plain old fast burn. This involves hitting the throttle less hard and splashing down 44 hours later. The upside is that we'd land in the Pacific Ocean, where we have rescue ships. The downside is that we'd still need to jettison the service module, so the danger of exposing the heat shield remains.
Dietrich lets this settle in before explaining the third option, the slow burn. For the slow burn, they'd keep the service module attached until just before reentry, which would protect the command module's heat shield. But keeping all that extra weight attached would mean a much later splashdown, 62 hours after the second burn.
That would really stretch their power supply, possibly to the breaking point. Dietrich steps back to let the bigwigs discuss. He knows what option he'd choose, but he's glad the decision isn't his alone. Immediately, head astronaut Deke Slayton advocates for the super-fast burn. He argues that getting the crew home quickly should be the top priority. But others push back,
Getting them to Earth means nothing if the spacecraft lacks the power to re-enter safely, or burns up because the heat shield is damaged. The discussion continues for an hour before Gene Kranz and the top brass reach a consensus. They're going with the slow burn. Dietrich exhales.
He preferred that plan too. But he's also nervous because his colleagues on the Tiger team now have a hell of a job to do. Figure out how to stretch the astronauts dwindling power for three. Electronics engineer John Aaron sets down his clipboard in the Tiger team room and rubs his temples. It's noon on April 14th and he hasn't slept since yesterday morning. That was 30 hours ago.
The last 10 hours, especially, have been a blur. He's been working on the power budget for reentry. Gene Kranz has ordered him to whittle it down to just 43 amps, a fraction of what they'd normally use. The command module has thousands of components that draw power, and he feels like he's scrutinized every last one to save as much as possible. Aaron tries to remember the last time he ate something.
Probably that donut last night. He should grab a sandwich downstairs. But every time he turns around, someone new is begging him for power for their system. Right now, in fact, he hears a voice behind him. It's an engineer named Gary Cohen. John, hey, we need to talk about the guidance systems for reentry. Are you really cutting out the primary?
The command module has multiple navigation systems. Cohen wants to use the primary one, which is the most accurate. He argues that they can't skimp on safety here. But Aaron shakes his head. It's too much power. But you can't possibly expect them to get back on just the secondary system. Well, I hate to break it to you, but I've been running some new numbers, and you're not even going to get the whole secondary.
The secondary system consists of six gyroscopes, which help the ship maintain orientation no matter which way it turns. Aaron tells Cohen that he can only run three of them. Cohen turns bright red and balls his hands into fists. He takes a step forward into Aaron's face. So, kid, you really believe you can get the spacecraft home with your plan, huh? I reckon we can. But can you get it home safe?
They survived the explosion, but I'm not sure they're going to survive you nickel and diming their power. Without waiting for a response, Cohen stomps off. Aaron hangs his head. He can feel a migraine coming on. He knows he's doing the right thing by saying no, but this job sure isn't winning him any friends. Retro Fire Officer Chuck Dietrich stares at his console, drumming his fingers.
For the past hour, he and his team of Tiger engineers have been stuck. The spacecraft is still surrounded by a cloud of glistening ice crystals. That means the astronauts still have no way to check their guidance system against the stars. Apollo 13's guidance system is designed to orient the spacecraft automatically, but its accuracy can drift over time. So the astronauts have to manually check the system occasionally and recalibrate it.
Normally, they would do that by using a star as a reference point, but the ice crystals are still interfering with that.
For their first burn, they could get away without recalibrating their guidance. But this second burn that's coming up is far bigger than the first. Nine times longer, clocking in at four and a half full minutes. If it's off by even a few degrees, the spacecraft will veer off course and miss Earth entirely. So they can't afford to take any more chances. The guidance system needs to be on target.
But the ice crystals have Dietrich's team stumped. They've been reduced to throwing out random ideas. He tries one again now. I mean, could we use 13's shadow to block the sunlight on the crystals? One engineer shakes his head no. I looked into that. The shadow's too small. Another engineer throws up his hands in frustration. We may as well be flying blind. Heck, the only thing they can get a fix on is the sun.
Dietrich nods glumly. But something about the engineer's words start ticking in his brain. What if we could somehow check our alignment on the sun itself? It is a star. The other engineers look at each other. Then one of them shrugs. You know, that...
might just work. But Dietrich is already having doubts about his own idea. No, no, no. Most stars are pinpricks. The Sun is what? A degree or two wide? It's gonna really limit our accuracy.
Forget it. It's a dumb idea. But the engineer protests. I think it can work. Instead of having the guidance system search for the whole sun, what if it searched just for one quarter of the sun? That would give us more precision. The other engineers second him. Dietrich listens, but he's still not convinced. Then the engineer makes a clinching argument. At this point, what other options do we have?
Dietrich chuckles grimly and admits they have none. So he decides to work up a proposal for Gene Kranz. He suspects Kranz will be skeptical, and he's sure the increasingly irritable astronauts won't like the plan either. But this is their best bet. If they're going to get Apollo 13 home, the sun will have to be their guide.
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Houston, whatever you did to clean up the communications link, it's working. You sound much cleaner, thank you. Proceed. Mission Control finally has an idea for checking the ship's automated guidance system, and he's eager to hear it. But when they mention using the sun as their reference point, Lovell can't hide his frustration. The sun? That's way too imprecise. It can work, Jim. Just listen.
Lovell does, but he's skeptical. After an hour of back and forth with Houston, he turns to Fred Hayes and mutters that he still doesn't think this will work. But with no other option, he agrees to try solar alignment. When's it scheduled?
He begins punching buttons for the guidance system's computer, directing it to point the ship's nose at the upper right-hand quadrant of the sun. The external thrusters begin puffing air, rotating the ship. Meanwhile, Fred Hayes and Jack Swigert keep an eye out for the sun.
Swigert watches through a tiny window while Haze peers down a telescope sight that points dead ahead. If the guidance system is still aligned, the sun's upper right quadrant should appear in its crosshairs. Lovell knows the process will take a few minutes, but he's impatient to hear the results. He starts pestering Haze. "See anything, Freddo?" "No, not yet. I'll let you know." Lovell waits another minute and asks again.
Nothing. Then another minute. Still nothing. Eight long minutes pass with no sign of the sun. Lovell is ready to call it. The idea failed. He reaches out to hit the microphone button to call Houston. "Whoa!" Then he hears Swigert gasp. Lovell turns to ask what's going on, but before he can say anything, he's blinded by the most brilliant ray of sunlight he's ever seen.
You got it, Freddo? What are you seeing? It's still settling. Hold on a sec.
Another interminable minute passes. Then, Haze lets out a whoop. "Yes! We are dead center on the upper right corner of the sun! The guidance system is right on target!" Lovell pumps his fist and whoops. It's the best news they've heard since the explosion. They're certainly not out of danger, but getting on the right trajectory towards Earth just got infinitely easier.
Jim Lovell flips the page on his notepad and continues writing down instructions from Houston about the second burn in a few hours. He asks several detailed questions. The instructions aren't complicated, but he wants to make sure everything's right. Anything more, Houston? No, we're done. It's a good time to stop anyway. We're going to lose radio contact when you disappear behind the moon in a few minutes. Lovell looks up, surprised.
The past few hours flew by, but a break sounds welcome, and he signs off. For the first time in the nearly 20 hours since the explosion, the astronauts have nothing to do. It feels strange. They should probably sleep, but this is also the closest they're ever going to get to the moon.
Unfortunately for most of their 25 minutes behind the moon, they're flying over darkness. But as soon as the surface appears in the lunar dawn, Swigert and Hayes crowd around the portholes, pointing and gasping. Look at that. Incredible, right? Swigert opens a locker, grabs two cameras, and hands one to Hayes.
Lovell chuckles, but he can't blame him. He was the same way on his first flyby a year and a half ago. Eventually, he floats over. Come on, kids. Let the old man look too. He gazes down at the moon, 139 miles below. It looks just like the memory burned into his mind. A silvery white expanse of boulders and cliffs and craters. It's stark blackness.
barren, and it's beautiful. But unlike last time, he feels pangs of sadness. Back then, he was looking forward to walking on the moon someday. Now, he never will. Finally, Lovell pulls himself away from the window. He lets Swigert and Hayes continue taking pictures until Houston returns.
"Apollo, this is Houston. Do you read?" "Yes, we copy. Time to get to work, fellas." Lovell grabs the instructions for the upcoming burn and starts flipping switches and turning dials. "Freddo, can you reach that one for me?" Hayes keeps snapping photos and doesn't respond. "Hey fellas, I could use some help here." They continue to ignore him.
Finally, Lovell snaps his fingers. "Hey! We have a burn in two hours! Do you two intend to participate?" Hayes and Swigert whip their heads around, looking sheepish. Swigert apologizes. "Sorry, Jim. We just want some photos as souvenirs." "I know you do, but no one will ever get to see those photos if we don't make it home."
Reluctantly, Swigert and Hayes stow the cameras and get to work. Lovell feels like a grump, but they have to get this burn right. The next two hours of preparation could be the most important two hours of their lives. Marilyn Lovell wraps an arm around her daughter Susan and takes in the view of the lake behind their home.
It's a lovely late afternoon. The wind kicks up waves on the sun-dappled water as ducks paddle around. Songbirds flit among the trees. Then Susan sobs again, and Marilyn fishes a tissue out of her purse. They came out here to help Susan recover after a meltdown a few minutes ago.
The family's priest stopped by at Marilyn's request to give communion, but Marilyn forgot to tell her children to expect him. Susan happened to come downstairs as the priest arrived. She saw him, assumed the worst, and broke down. Marilyn took her outside and brought her here, hoping the change of scenery might calm her down. She watches Susan blow her nose. In some ways, her daughter is so grown up.
It can be hard to remember. She's just 11 years old. Marilyn strokes Susan's brown hair. What are you worried about, dear? What do you mean? I'm worried Dad's not coming home. That's what you're worried about? Come on. You know your father's way too stubborn for that. Susan smiles a bit through her tears. He's not that stubborn.
most of the time. Well, maybe not, but he's also the best astronaut in the world, so if anyone can figure out how to get that hunk-a-junk spaceship home, it's him. Marilyn catches a smile on Susan's face. She hugs her daughter tightly. It feels so good that Marilyn doesn't want to let go. She wants to stay in this moment, but she knows she has to face a living room crowded with anxious people.
Marilyn has succeeded in comforting her daughter. She just wishes there was someone to comfort her. Inside the lunar module, astronaut Jim Lovell blows on his hands to keep warm. He's just finishing powering up the engines for the crucial second burn to return to Earth. It will take place in 10 minutes. Until then, he has to sit tight.
It isn't easy. He tries chatting with Hayes and Swigert about baseball, but neither seem interested. Or maybe they're still sore because he snapped at them earlier.
He's grateful when Houston comes online to chat. "Hey fellas, if you're interested, one of your rockets just impacted the moon. Our seismographs picked it up." The mention jogs Lovell's memory. One of the rockets that launched them into orbit three days ago was scheduled to crash land on the moon as part of an experiment to study how craters form. Lovell smirks. "At least something went right on this mission."
He turns and cranes his neck to gaze back at the moon. He's hoping to see the dust plume from the impact. Instead, he sees something that makes his throat catch. Mount Merillyn. It's a tiny triangle-shaped peak, hardly worth noticing, except Lovell saw it on his first orbit around the moon two years ago and named it after his wife.
Seeing it now brings up a flood of emotions. He remembers his hopes back then for walking on the moon, but even stronger than that, he feels a pang of heartache for his wife.
He hasn't had much time to reflect since the explosion 23 hours ago. Now, he imagines how painful this ordeal must be for Marilyn and their children. How helpless they must feel. Lovell takes a deep breath to calm himself. He needs to focus. They have to accelerate to a new speed and there's no room for even the smallest error.
After seeing Mount Maryland, Jim Lovell is more determined than ever to make it home alive. This is the third episode of our five-part series, Apollo 13. And a quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research.
If you'd like to learn more about this event, we highly recommend the books Apollo 13 by Jim Lovell and Jeffrey Kluger, 13 by Henry S.F. Cooper, and Failure is Not an Option by Gene Kranz. I'm your host, Mike Corey. Sam Keen wrote this episode. Our editor is Steve Fennessy. Fact-checking by Will Tavlin.
Sound design is by Joe Richardson. Audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Coordinating producers are Christian Banas and Desi Blaylock. Produced by Matt Almos, Emily Frost, and Alida Rozanski. Managing producer is Matt Gant. Senior managing producer is Ryan Lohr. Senior producer is Andy Herman. Executive producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis. For Wondery. Wondery.
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