Chapters
Shownotes Transcript
Seymour Liebergot lights a pipe in NASA's Mission Control Room in Houston, Texas. It's just past 9 p.m. on April 13, 1970, and he has another hour before his shift ends. He takes a drag of his pipe and waits for the jolt of nicotine.
Liebergot is a 34-year-old electrical engineer at NASA with horn-rimmed glasses and a head full of thick brown hair. He sits at a console covered in dials and blinking lights. Dozens of other engineers are positioned at similar consoles all around him. They're monitoring the Apollo 13 spacecraft, which is two days and eight hours into its mission.
If all goes well, the astronauts aboard Apollo 13 will become NASA's third crew to walk on the moon. Liebergot monitors the life support systems onboard the spacecraft: air, water, and power. It's a critical job, but they run so many training scenarios that now it feels routine. As he smokes, a yellow warning light flashes. Liebergot quickly identifies the problem.
The Apollo 13 spacecraft contains tanks of hydrogen and oxygen, which can condense into liquid in the deep cold of space. That can alter the pressure inside the tanks in ways that can interfere with the life support systems. So, warning lights flash whenever liquid builds up.
Liebergot punches a button to call Gene Kranz, the chief flight director in charge of the mission, who's standing further back in the mission control room. He speaks into his headset microphone. Gene, I've got a yellow warning light here. Can you ask the crew to stir the hydrogen tanks? The hydrogen and oxygen tanks have internal heaters and stirrers, but the astronauts have to activate them manually. Liebergot hears Kranz's voice in his headset.
Copy that. Should they stir the oxygen tanks too? Liebergot glances at the gauge for the oxygen tanks. No warning light there, but it never hurts to give them all a stir. Sure, Gene. Let's have them stir both. Liebergot sits back while the instructions are relayed to the astronauts, and he puffs his pipe. He glances up at the clock on the wall, 50 minutes until his shift ends. Beep.
A minute later, an alarm sounds on Liebergot's console. Several more warning lights flash on as well. His eyes dart from one gauge to another. What's going on? Liebergot hears Kranz's voice in his headset. Seymour, what's all the activity there? I'm, uh, looking into it. But the truth is, Liebergot doesn't know what's happening. Several different systems are showing malfunctions now.
What could possibly cause all these problems at once? Then Liebergot hears another voice in his headset from astronaut Jim Lovell talking to mission control from space. Houston, we've had a problem.
Liebergot tries not to panic. He keeps scanning his console as more warning lights flash on. There's so much going wrong, he can't make sense of it. Then his chest tightens as he sees the gauge for Oxygen Tank 2. It reads zero.
Somehow, suddenly this vital component of the spacecraft is completely empty. If he doesn't do something fast, the astronauts could run out of air. They'd slowly suffocate, trapped inside the craft. It would be sheer torture, and the mere thought of it makes his own throat close up in terror.
Against the Odds is brought to you by Progressive Insurance. Whether you love true crime or comedy, celebrity interviews or news, you call the shots on what's in your podcast queue. And guess what? Now you can call them on your auto insurance too with the Name Your Price tool from Progressive. It works just the way it sounds. You tell Progressive how much you want to pay for car insurance and they'll show you coverage options that fit your budget. Get your quote today at Progressive.com to join their over 28 million drivers who trust Progressive.
Progressive Casualty Insurance Company & Affiliates. Price and coverage match limited by state law. You'll love AppleCard. It's everything a credit card should be and more. Earn up to 3% daily cash back on every purchase, which can automatically earn interest when you open a high-yield savings account through AppleCard. Apply for AppleCard in the Wallet app.
Subject to credit approval, savings is available to Apple Card owners subject to eligibility. Apple Card and savings by Goldman Sachs Bank, USA, Salt Lake City branch, member FDIC. Terms and more at applecard.com. From Wondery, I'm Mike Corey, and this is Against the Odds.
In 1970, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, NASA, enjoyed unprecedented prestige. A year earlier, the agency had won the Cold War space race against the Soviet Union by landing astronauts on the moon during the Apollo 11 and 12 missions. NASA had every reason to expect its third moon landing, Apollo 13, would be another triumph.
But an explosion early in the mission shattered those illusions. The blast wiped out several critical systems on board. The crew of three astronauts were now stranded in a crippled spacecraft 200,000 miles from Earth. This is Episode 1, Houston, We've Had a Problem. Hey, dinner tonight, right? Yeah, I'll need a shower first. How about I meet you...
Jim Lovell shuts the door to his hotel room in Washington, D.C., and tosses his blazer on a purple plush chair. Then he sinks down on the bed. What a night. It's January 27th, 1967. Lovell is a 38-year-old astronaut, and he's just come from a reception at the White House with President Lyndon Johnson to kick off NASA's 1967 space missions.
Most of the night consisted of handshakes and chit-chat with foreign ambassadors. Lovell found it exhausting. He's a former Navy test pilot who joined NASA in 1962. In 1965, he circled the Earth 206 times on the Gemini 7 mission. He's at NASA to fly spaceships and someday walk on the moon. He didn't sign up to Glad Hand, but unfortunately, it's part of the job.
As he lies down, Lovell sees a blinking red light on the nightstand phone. He dials the front desk. "This is Lovell in room 215. Do I have a message?" "Yes, Mr. Lovell. You have orders to call the Space Center in Houston. They say it's urgent." Lovell is instantly on alert. Three of his fellow astronauts were running tests tonight for Apollo 1, the first step in a series of missions that will ultimately land a man on the moon.
Tonight's tests involved a simulated takeoff. The urgent message can't be a good sign. Lovell quickly dials NASA. A brusque voice answers. In the background, Lovell can hear shouting.
This is Jim Lovell. I got an urgent message to call in. Is everything okay? Hi, Jim. Listen, I don't have all the details, but there was a fire on the launch pad, and it's probable that the crew did not survive. Lovell feels a cold sweat start to soak his dress shirt. Probable? What does that mean? Are they alive or not? It's probable the crew did not survive, but that's all I can say right now.
Lovell pleads for more information, but the man stonewalls him. Lovell hangs up in frustration. Then he sits on the bed holding his head, a knot filling his stomach. Three colleagues, three friends, all probably dead. His mind is reeling, and not only for them. Lovell's biggest dream in life is to walk on the moon.
He's been working for over 20 years toward that goal, ever since he was a kid, building rockets in his backyard in Wisconsin. And despite the long odds, he's on track to actually get there. But this fire could change everything. His wife already frets about the danger of his job. Will she let him keep flying now? And what does this tragedy mean for the future of the Apollo program?
He honestly doesn't know. He just hopes that his life's dream didn't die on that launch pad alongside those three brave men. Marilyn Lovell takes her husband's hand and follows him into the den of their home in suburban Houston. It's a snug room with pictures of their four children on the walls.
Something's going on. Jim is trying to suppress a grin. It's the summer of 1968, and he's been training for the Apollo 8 mission for months now. He's been excited about it since day one, but tonight, he seems more keyed up than usual. Marilyn eases into the recliner. Jim sits on a nearby ottoman. "I've been thinking about our trip to Mexico this Christmas. How about going somewhere else?" Marilyn is surprised.
Jim was really looking forward to going to Acapulco. Okay, where were you thinking instead? Jim finally bursts into a full grin. I was thinking maybe... the moon. ♪
Lovell explains in a rush. The first Apollo missions have gone so well that NASA has reshuffled its plans for the next few launches. Jim's Apollo 8 crew will now be heading to the moon over Christmas. They won't touch down, but they'll be the first people in history to circle another celestial body. Lovell jumps up from the ottoman. He starts whirling his hand like it's a spaceship, and the nearby floor lamp is the moon.
We'll use the Saturn V rocket. 7.5 million pounds of thrust. We'll hit 25,000 miles per hour. Marilyn can't help but smile. She knows how important this is to him. But she feels an undercurrent of fear, too. She can still remember the fire 18 months ago that killed those three astronauts. She'll never forget the funerals, trying to comfort their poor wives and children.
Yes, NASA has redesigned the Apollo spacecraft since then to make it safer, but the whole agency is pushing as hard as ever. They're determined to land a man on the moon next year, in 1969, which would be fine if it was someone else's husband whose life was on the line. To her, NASA's pace seems almost reckless.
In their 16 years of marriage, Jim has uprooted their family time and time again to pursue his career. She hoped things would settle down when he joined the astronaut program. That meant they could stay put in Houston. But if anything, he's away from home even more now. And this new moon mission will likely require the most labor-intensive training yet. Suddenly, Jim stops whirling his hands and frowns. "You look worried."
Look at that! This is incredible.
Astronaut Jim Lovell presses his face against the thick window of the Apollo 8 spacecraft, staring wide-eyed at the silvery surface of the moon as it passes below them.
It's been an exhausting journey to get here. Lovell is crammed into the spacecraft with two other astronauts. Three days of breathing stale air and smelling each other's bodies with zero privacy. But every bit of discomfort on the long journey from Earth is worth this sight. What strikes Lovell most about orbiting the moon is its starkness.
There's no life, no color, nothing but rocks and dust and craters, especially craters, thousands of them. He's awestruck knowing that they've been there for millions of years, undisturbed and unseen. Until now, it's the most marvelous moment of his life.
Then he glances toward the lunar horizon and notices something. It's a mountain. He's studied the moon's geography closely and doesn't recall there being a mountain here. He leans over and pokes one of his crewmates. "Ever seen that peak before? The triangular one?" "No, never." Lovell grins. "Well, that means I discovered it and I get to name it. So from now on, it's Mount Maryland."
The two other astronauts laugh and roll their eyes, but Lovell doesn't let their teasing bother him. He's still in awe from seeing the moon so close up. And there's something else lifting his mood too. The knowledge, the certainty that the next time he gets this close to the moon, he'll actually get to land down there and set foot on that starkly beautiful surface.
Jim Lovell walks into a drab conference room in NASA's Space Center in Houston. It's late 1969, almost a year since he and the Apollo 8 crew returned safely back to Earth from their orbit of the Moon. A lot has happened since then. Back in July, Neil Armstrong became the first human to step foot on the Moon. Apollo 11 was followed up just a few months later with Apollo 12.
another successful lunar mission. Apollo 13 will finally be Lovell's turn, and he's leading that mission. Today's planning meeting is to discuss where on the moon Apollo 13 will land when it touches down a few months from now. Lovell looks around the room. Several NASA administrators and five other astronauts are already assembled. When Lovell takes his seat, Gene Kranz stands up.
Kranz is the mission's chief flight director. He's a gruff Air Force veteran who flew fighter jets in the Korean War. He has narrow eyes and keeps his blonde hair buzz so short that it often looks like he's bald. Kranz sketches out the goals of Apollo 13 on a chalkboard.
Apollo's 11 and 12 both landed on lunar planes, flat, low-risk areas. Apollo 13 will not play it so safe. Its crew will land in a rugged, hilly area near a huge meteor crater. They'll spend 33 hours on the surface. Their mission is to explore the area around the crater and take geological samples. In other words, collect rocks.
The hope is that the rough terrain will yield different kinds of rocks than the ones gathered by Apollo's 11 and 12. Two of the astronauts in the room are Lovell's crewmates on Apollo 13. Another three are the backups who will serve as understudies for this mission while they prepare to lead a future one. As Apollo 13's commander, Lovell pipes up with the first question. So how uneven is the ground we're landing on?
It'll be rugged, but the shadows should help you spot the hidden dangers. Still, it'll be riskier than our previous two landings. This news doesn't bother Lovell. He knows NASA wants to push the envelope on 13, and he's thrilled they trust him to command the mission. He also has supreme faith in NASA's engineers. They're the best in the world.
After Lovell's questions, his crewmate Fred Hayes raises his hand. He's a space rookie, a slender, square-jawed marine pilot from Mississippi with a crooked grin and a mild drawl. He's the geological expert, the rock hound, and he has questions about the specimens they'll look for. When Hayes finishes, the third member of Lovell's team, Ken Mattingly, asks several questions as well,
An hour passes before Kranz dismisses them. Lovell leaves and finds himself feeling mixed emotions. This will certainly be the riskiest moon landing so far for NASA, and it will also be his last space mission. He's already promised Marilyn he'll retire from spaceflight when Apollo 13 finishes. The strain on their family is just too much.
He's sad, but he also knows it's time to step aside for other astronauts. But as he walks NASA's halls, he's overcome by a feeling of giddy anticipation. He's dreamed of walking on the moon his whole life, and it's finally going to happen. Electrical engineer Seymour Liebergot pours himself a cup of coffee and takes a sip. He's glad for the break. It's been an intense day.
It's March 1970, a few weeks before the Apollo 13 launch, and the mission control team is doing a test run under the supervision of Chief Flight Director Gene Kranz. The astronauts are in a replica spacecraft a few buildings over. Meanwhile, Liebergot and his team are working their consoles as if it were a real mission. They're in charge of the spacecraft's air, water, heat, and electricity.
the life support systems. These simulations are crucial. They give everyone a chance to get comfortable with the complicated equipment. To keep them on their toes, the simulation supervisors or sim-suits sometimes throw problems at the engineers to prepare them for real emergencies. Today's exercise simulates a point in the mission shortly after Fred Hayes and Jim Lovell are on the moon's surface.
while Ken Mattingly is orbiting above them in the command module. On each orbit, the command module will pass behind the Moon, putting Apollo 13 out of contact with Houston for 40 minutes. So, to make things as realistic as possible, communication in today's simulation has also ceased for 40 minutes. With nothing to do, Liebergott and his team are getting coffee.
But one of his junior engineers looks nervous. He waves Liebergot over. "Hey, Sai, did you see that blip in the oxygen tank readout right before we lost communications? What was that?" Liebergot nods. Right before communications dropped, the pressure reading in one of the oxygen tanks dips suddenly, which would normally be a big worry, but Liebergot just chuckles.
Yeah, I've seen it before. It's an artifact. Data always gets ratty when the ship goes behind the moon. Even in simulations. Probably just the sim soups testing us to see if we keep cool. Someone changes the subject to last night's basketball scores. They chat for 30 minutes until Liebergot returns to his console to wait for the astronauts to emerge from radio silence.
A few seconds later, he hears the voice of astronaut Ken Mattingly. "Houston, do you read? We've lost all oxygen aboard. Repeat, complete loss of oxygen." Liebergot's eyes dart to his instruments, which have just started to register data again, and his mouth drops open to see that Mattingly is right. The oxygen tanks are at zero.
He grabs his head in his hands and he groans. That blip before the loss of signal was a test, alright. But it wasn't an artifact invented to see whether the engineers kept cool. No, the SimSoups were simulating a real disaster. And instead of coming up with plans to handle it, Liebergot wasted all of that time chatting about basketball. "Liebergot!" Liebergot turns around slowly.
Kranz is standing with his hands on his hips, his face red and scowling. I don't want to hear your explanation. All I want to hear is a plan to make sure this never happens again. Now, let's work through this problem, and let's try not to suffocate my astronauts. Meekly, Liebergot turns back to his console, feeling every eye in the room staring at him.
Liebergot is grateful not to be fired, but as the simulation starts up again, he's also annoyed. A complete loss of oxygen is wildly unlikely on an actual mission. A dozen things would have to fail in a row. They should be drilling on other problems, common ones, not wild scenarios like this one.
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.
But it doesn't stop there, because Indeed also helps you hire better. 93% of employers agree Indeed delivers the highest quality matches compared to other job sites, according to a recent Indeed survey. That's because their matching engine is always learning from your preference. So the more you use Indeed, the better it gets.
So let Indeed be your go-to for making great hires quickly and easily. And listeners of the show, get a $75 sponsored job credit to get your jobs more visibility at Indeed.com slash the odds. Just go to Indeed.com slash the odds right now and support our show by saying you heard about Indeed on this podcast. Indeed.com slash the odds. Terms and conditions apply. Need to hire? You need Indeed.
Shifting your wardrobe from summer to fall can be a challenge. Luckily, Quince offers timeless and high-quality items, so your wardrobe stays fresh and under budget. Because all Quince items are priced 50-80% less than similar brands, they partner directly with top factories to cut out the cost of the middleman.
Plus, Quince only works with factories that use safe, ethical, and responsible manufacturing practices and premium fabrics and finishes. They have all the staples, like cashmere sweaters from $50, pants for every occasion, washable silk tops, and so much more. My washable silk blouse has been through the wringer with wears and washes, but its quality and comfort has still remained as though brand new. You really can't beat the prices and quality of Quince items.
Make switching seasons a breeze with Quince's high quality closet essentials. Go to quince.com slash the odds for free shipping on your order and 365 day returns. That's Q-U-I-N-C-E dot com slash the odds to get free shipping and 365 day returns. quince.com slash the odds.
Jim Lovell and his crewmates hurry down the hallway of NASA's Space Center in Houston toward the DRAB conference room where they were first briefed about Apollo 13. Lovell is nervous. Gene Kranz just summoned them from training for an emergency meeting. It's April 4th, 1970, only seven days before liftoff. For Kranz to interrupt their training now, something must be seriously wrong.
Lovell and his crewmates enter to find Kranz and two members of the mission's backup team, but not Duke Johnson, the third backup. Lovell is also surprised to see NASA's flight surgeon, the doctor who oversees the astronauts' health on the mission. The flight surgeon gestures at them to sit. Duke Johnson caught the measles from his kid. All of you have been exposed, which means we'll need to change up the mission.
The flight surgeon explains that, according to their medical records, four of the astronauts have been exposed to measles before and are therefore immune. But Ken Mattingly never had the measles. We just can't risk Ken getting sick during the mission. I've consulted with Gene and we're scrubbing him and reassigning Jack Swigert from the backup crew to the primary crew.
Lovell jumps to his feet. He cannot believe it. But it's seven days before the mission. You can't just change crew like that. I've been training with Kenny for a year. We're a team. Sorry, Jim, but those are the rules. A sick astronaut could jeopardize the whole mission. Mattingly jumps into the argument. He points out that, as command module pilot, he won't even be descending to the moon's surface. So the overall mission will be fine.
He also asks when the symptoms would begin, assuming he's even infected. The surgeon says the symptoms wouldn't start for another two weeks, but that's right when Mattingly would be piloting the spacecraft back home to Earth. Lovell slams his fist on the table in frustration. In the end, Gene Kranz overrules all objections. Listen, Jim, Ken, I do understand your concerns, but we cannot have a sick man in space.
And Swigert's more than capable. I don't doubt that, but we haven't trained together. Well, you have seven days. So I suggest you get started. This meeting's over. As the flight surgeon leaves, Lovell hangs his head. He knows Kranz won't change his mind. Then Lovell looks over at Jack Swigert.
A blonde, blue-eyed, 38-year-old Air Force pilot from Denver. Usually, Swigert's got a ready smile. He talks about going into politics someday, but right now, he's just scratching his neck, looking awfully nervous. He's not the only one. Lovell stands and tells Swigert and Fred Hayes to follow. They have seven days until liftoff, and they're going to need every hour to train.
- Two on left, left Bravo, right Juliet. - Jack Swigert flips another switch aboard the Apollo 13 spacecraft as the minutes toward launch tick down. One more item off the checklist, but there are still dozens to go before they blast off from the Cape Canaveral launch pad in Florida.
Swigert licks his lips and tries to relax, but he's already sweating inside his spacesuit, and his breakfast of steak and eggs sits awfully heavy in his stomach. After seven frantic days of preparation, Swigert feels ready, but also a little terrified. And why shouldn't he?
He and his two crewmates are in a cramped cone perched atop a massive Saturn V rocket. It's taller than the Statue of Liberty and weighs over 6 million pounds. Not long from now, the rocket will ignite and send the three astronauts hurtling into space. He clears his mind and turns to the next item on the checklist. He's actually glad for the routine. Squeezed in next to him, Fred Hayes and Jim Lovell go through their own checklists.
The section of the craft they're sitting in, the command module, is just 11 feet tall and 13 feet wide at the base. It feels even more cramped with all the lockers full of equipment, not to mention the instrument panel, a wall of 500 different dials, gauges, and valves.
Swigert's back hurts too. They're lying face up, their backs resting on what NASA calls couches, but they're really just metal frames covered in cloth. In the weightlessness of space, the seats don't need padding. But down here on Earth, after an hour, the frame is digging into Swigert's back. It's hard to concentrate.
Certain critical buttons on the instrument panel, like those controlling the rockets, have plastic wickets over them so no one can accidentally press them. Still, Swigert's had reoccurring nightmares about accidentally pressing the wrong button. He's excited for his first space mission, no question, but as a rookie, he still feels like the odd man out.
Swigert speaks into his headset to Houston. He talks to the astronaut's point man inside mission control, the CAPCOM, or Capsule Communications Specialist. Say, Houston, can you check my power-up off the hydrogen tanks? I want to make sure I crossed all my Ts. Swigert sees Lovell turn toward him. Everything okay, Jack? Yeah, I just want to make sure it's all correct. It will be.
You wouldn't be here if you weren't an ace. Swigert appreciates the support. After the meeting with the flight surgeon about the crew change, Lovell's been going out of his way to make Swigert feel welcome. Then Houston comes online again. Looks perfect, Jack. Proceed.
Swigert flips the page and starts on the next checklist. It takes another two hours for the astronauts and the ground crew to complete their preparations. Then, at last, the countdown begins. During the final few minutes, Swigert finds himself staring at the clock. T-minus one minute.
The launch is scheduled for 1:13 p.m. Houston time, but NASA uses military time, so they'll be launching at 13:13. And this mission is Apollo 13.
Lucky 13s everywhere. The thought actually makes Swigert chuckle. NASA clearly isn't superstitious. Then again, they don't need to be. They've got the best engineers and pilots in the world. T-minus 10 seconds. 9, 10... Swigert feels his body rumbling. As the rumble grows, the metal couch frame rattles his bones.
It's so loud, you can barely hear anything else. "Lift off." The Saturn V rocket lifts them up slowly at first, but once they start rising, they pick up speed quickly. Swigert feels the metal frame digging into his spine, his face feels smushed, and he can barely lift his arms against the G-forces. He wrenches his neck to peek at the odometer.
15,000 miles per hour. For a few minutes, things get hazy as blood rushes into Swigert's brain. Then suddenly, 10 minutes after launch, he feels his whole body lifting up like he's floating on a cloud. It's what angels must feel like. Swigert blinks and turns to see Jim Lovell unbuckling himself. Welcome to space, fellas.
Watch this. Lovell pushes off the couch and magically just hovers there. Then he does a somersault in midair. Swigert laughs and unbuckles himself too. They have a lot to do before they fire the rocket again in a couple hours to put them on a trajectory for the moon. But for right now, they have a few minutes to play.
Marilyn Lovell settles into his seat in the observation gallery overlooking NASA's Mission Control Room in Houston. She's there to watch a live broadcast of her husband from space. It's the evening of April 13th, two days and seven hours into the mission. She's come here with her two daughters, 16-year-old Barbara and 11-year-old Susan.
Jack Swigert is a bachelor, but Fred Hayes' wife Mary is also there. She's pregnant with her fourth child. Marilyn is proud to see her daughter Susan help Mary out of her coat, then run off to find her some ice water. While she's gone, Mary leans into Marilyn. Your daughter is an angel. Thank you. She's such a help when Jim's gone.
Seeing Susan behave so well lifts Marilyn's spirits, but the truth is she feels sour this evening. She's always a bundle of nerves whenever Jim's in space, and she's frustrated about tonight's broadcast too. The first moon landing mission, Apollo 11, was the single most watched event in human history.
But the ratings for the Apollo 12 broadcast dropped sharply. Now, for Apollo 13, zero networks are showing the broadcast. They're airing Laugh-In and Dick Cavett instead. That's why she had to drive to Mission Control to watch Jim, instead of staying home like she prefers. At least Mission Control is exciting to visit.
It's an auditorium with several tiers, each filled with a few dozen engineers at different consoles. The observation gallery sits above it, behind a large wall of glass. Marilyn waves down to a few engineers she knows. At the back stands Gene Kranz, who just paces and smokes. At the front of the room hang several giant screens. One shows Apollo 13's trajectory to the moon along a yellow line.
Another screen in the corner shows tonight's broadcast. Marilyn sees her husband's face flicker onto the screen, then disappear. Is this thing on?
It is choppy at first, but soon Marilyn sees Jim floating there in his white flight suit. She notices stubble on his cheeks and smiles. Hello, Earth. This is Mission Commander Jim Lovell. I'm broadcasting live from the Apollo 13 spacecraft, 200,000 miles from home.
Then Jim turns the camera around and begins pointing and narrating. He pans around the command module first and introduces Swigert and Hayes, who's floating upside down. Marilyn smiles to see Mary Hayes wave at her husband, even though he can't see her.
Next, Jim floats through a metal tunnel that connects the command module to the lunar module. That's the vehicle that will pilot them to the moon in a few days. Jim also shows off the helmet he'll wear on the lunar surface.
At one point, Fred Hayes plays a practical joke. He sneaks up behind Lovell and throws open an air valve. It makes a loud hiss and the camera jumps. From his tone, Marilyn can tell that Jim's annoyed, but he keeps his cool. Then Jim swings the camera out the window. And there's our destination.
Soon, the show ends. Jim, Fred, and Jack wave goodbye, and the screen goes black. It's just after 9pm. Susan helps Mary haze with her coat. Marilyn hugs Mary goodbye and heads toward the exit. She's excited for Jim to walk on the moon.
but even more excited for him to get home, retire from spaceflight, and for their family to finally lead the normal life she's wanted for so long. Inside the command module, Jim Lovell packs the video camera from tonight's broadcast into a locker. He thinks the show went well, but the crash after the adrenaline surge of performing for an audience has left him sleepy.
Being in space is hard work anyway. You're on duty hour after hour. Houston just relayed orders for Jack Swigert to stir the hydrogen and oxygen tanks, and once that's finished, Lovell is looking forward to getting some sleep. A minute later, Lovell hears a bang and feels a low rumble. His head snaps up, and he's instantly annoyed.
Ever since the mission started, Fred Hayes has been playing juvenile jokes. Lovell's getting tired of it. He shuts the locker and floats up toward Hayes, in the tunnel between the command module and the lunar module. Freddo, you gotta knock that off. But when he sees Hayes' face, he stops short. The young astronaut's eyes are wide with fear. I didn't touch anything.
Lovell glances down at Swigert near the instrument panel. "Was that you, Jack?" Swigert shakes his head, looking confused. All at once, an alarm blares and several warning lights flash on, casting Swigert's face in an eerie yellow glow. Lovell has no idea what's going on, and from the looks of it, neither do Haze or Swigert.
Lovell pushes off the ceiling and floats down to examine the instrument panel. Then he grabs his headset. He's a NASA-trained astronaut and a former Navy test pilot, so he knows how to remain cool and collected in an emergency. But he also knows he needs to act quickly and inform Houston that something, somewhere on board, is seriously wrong.
These days, it feels like we're all just on the hunt for ways to optimize our health and feel our absolute best. The only problem is, with all these supplements out there, it can be really tough to know which ones are actually worth your time and money. That's where today's sponsor, Symbiotica, comes in. Symbiotica is a premium supplement brand that's raising the bar when it comes to purity, potency, and efficacy. Their supplements are formulated with high-quality ingredients. That's why their formulas don't have any seed oils, preservatives, or any other ingredients.
toxins, artificial additives, or natural flavors. Plus, while most supplements can taste chalky or sulfuric, Symbiotica's supplements have amazing flavors like citrus lime, vanilla chai, or wild berry. I've been loving the magnesium supplement from Symbiotica. Being low in magnesium, I've made it a priority lately to take it consistently. I love how I can take it on the go and ensure I'm never missing a dose. Feel more energized, alert, and balanced with high-quality supplements that work.
Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. Electrical engineer Seymour Liebergot loosens his tie and turns up the volume on his headset. It's a little past 9.15 p.m. on April 13th inside NASA's control room in Houston.
Since a yellow warning light first flashed a few minutes ago, things have gone from bad to worse. He has no idea why so many instruments on his console are going haywire. Half the data he's seeing looks fake, like something those sim soups would conjure up to trick him during a simulation. One reading in particular terrifies him. Oxygen tank 2 is supposedly completely empty.
That means half of the astronauts oxygen is suddenly gone and they're not even close to halfway through the mission. And the issue isn't just breathable air,
The spacecraft also pumps oxygen and hydrogen into fuel cells, where electrodes spark a process that forms water. The process also releases heat to keep the spacecraft warm, and energy that's converted into electricity. All in all, the hydrogen and oxygen tanks are critical to every life support system on the ship, and if half the oxygen is gone, those other systems are now in trouble too.
Liebergot is not the only engineer reporting problems. He leans forward to listen to the chatter on the mission control communications loop. Maybe he can glean some clues from what the other teams are seeing. Do we have any idea why a few antennas dropped out? They're not providing any data right now. I don't know. Let's ask the crew. Maybe they do. And let's double check that their figures are matching ours down here. When the astronauts are patched in, they sound calm, which is reassuring.
And when the crew checks notes with the other engineers, Liebergot finally hears some good news. They found an odd discrepancy. According to the astronauts, the gauges on the spacecraft say that oxygen tank 2 is not empty, but full. In addition, one of the electrical hubs on board, which the astronauts initially said was dead, has also come back to life.
Then, Liebergot hears once again from the engineer in charge of the spacecraft's antennas. Okay, well that's good news about the tanks, but I'm still having problems with the telemetry. Some antennas aren't working and others are giving us funny readings. Liebergot feels a surge of relief. Now he understands. All the fake-looking data is just that. Fake.
The problem must lie with the instruments monitoring the life support systems and transmitting information from the ship to the ground, a process known as telemetry. Those instruments must be malfunctioning, reporting garbled data,
That also must be why the numbers the astronauts are seeing in the ship look terrible one minute and great the next. Instrumentation problems aren't good, but they're a hell of a lot better than Oxygen Tank 2 actually being empty. A moment later, Liebergot hears Gene Kranz's voice in his ear. Seymour, you think that this is an instrumentation failure as opposed to actual damage? You read my mind, Chief. I think that's exactly right.
Liebergot sits back and exhales. For a moment there, he was worried they might have to scrub the moon landing and do so because of his systems. But if they can sort out this antenna problem, they can still salvage this mission.
15... looking good. 17.2... right, that's fine. Jim Lovell floats inside the command module, eyes scouring the massive instrument panel. Fred Hayes and Jack Swigert float next to him doing the same. The tension in the module is thick. Frankly, Lovell doesn't like what he's hearing from Houston. They're convinced this whole thing is a snafu, an instrument problem.
But Lovell doesn't believe that. He felt a bang. He's sure of it. Swigert and Hayes say they did too. This is no instrument problem. So, on Lovell's orders, all three of them are studying every single gauge and readout on the panel, checking whether any numbers are suspiciously high or low. When Lovell reaches the gauge for oxygen tank two, his heart stops cold.
He turns to Haze. Say, Freddo, did I hear you report to Houston a minute ago about Oxygen Tank 2? Yeah, it was full. Why? Because now it's reading zero. Haze's head snaps over to look. Swigert's too. Each Oxygen Tank gauge looks like the fuel gauge on a car. A needle that sinks from full on top to empty on bottom. And right now, the needle for Tank 2...
is at the bottom. Lovell's eyes flash to a few other gauges. The oxygen on board helps create the ship's electricity. He's horrified to see that two of the three all-important fuel cells are reading zero as well. Suddenly, Houston comes online. "Hey there, fellas. The flight surgeon is picking up a sudden spike in your heart rates. Is everything okay?" Lovell ignores this interruption.
In his experience as a test pilot, problems have a way of cascading. Once one thing goes wrong, others do too. So he falls back on the oldest piloting instinct in the world. He floats over to a window to see if he can spot what's wrong with his own eyes. Frustratingly, the window is too tiny and the angle is too steep to see the service module beneath them.
But Lovell can see enough. Something beautiful and horrifying all at once. There's a cloud of fine white crystals streaming into space next to the ship. They're twinkling gorgeously in the sunlight, just like snowflakes. Lovell knows the source of that cloud. It's his spacecraft. The ship is venting something.
Something it's definitely not supposed to. Lovell swallows hard, and working to keep his voice calm, he floats back over to report what he's seeing to Houston. Seymour Liebergot is relighting his pipe in mission control when he hears Jim Lovell's voice on the communications loop from the spacecraft.
Houston, contrary to what we reported before, Oxygen Tank 2 is now reading zero. Also, we are venting something into space. Repeat, we are venting. There's a flurry of activity in Mission Control. Technicians stand up, looking around, gaping. Someone spills a cup of coffee. Gene Kranz shouts to gain control of the room. Everyone calm down!
Now, I want you all to think hard about what we've seen that could cause venting. Liebergot cringes in his chair. Kranz is standing right behind him. He can practically feel his boss breathing on him. Liebergot has a pretty good idea what could be causing the venting. Given the sudden drop in pressure in oxygen tank two, a leak there is a likely candidate. He turns to check the gauge for tank two again.
And that's when he notices the gauge for tank one, and fear suddenly grips him by the throat. That needle is dropping too. Liebergot feels like he's plummeting into an abyss. The ship's oxygen, not only needed to breathe, but to make water, heat, and power, is vanishing too.
before his eyes. In a flash, everything he's been thinking about the mission shifts. Until now, he's been mostly concerned about figuring out a way to salvage the moon landing. But not anymore. From this moment forward, his only concern is saving the astronauts lives.
This is the first episode of our five-part series, Apollo 13. 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.
Thank you.
♪♪♪ ♪♪♪
Jobs like building grid-scale solar energy in Ohio and producing natural gas with fewer operational emissions in Texas. It's and, not or. See what doing both means for energy nationwide at bp.com slash investinginamerica.