Buzz Takes His Friendship to the Moon | This Week In Space History

by michael shinabery

“Buzz” Aldrin nearly always ranked in the top three. Born on Jan. 20, 1930, the second man to step onto the Moon was number one at West Point in his freshman year in “academic and athletic aptitude,” he wrote in “Men From Earth.” Known as a “hard charger at the Point,” he graduated third in his class in 1951. He would become the first astronaut with a doctorate.

Aldrin was stationed at Bitburg Air Base, Germany, when the Soviet Union launched the world’s first artificial satellite, Sputnik I.

“Most people thought Sputnik was a serious blow to American prestige,” Aldrin wrote in “Men From Earth.” “It looked like the country was lagging behind the Soviets, not just in missiles, but also in education and overall science and technology.”

It was the next year that his best friend, Ed White, a West Point grad, let Aldrin know he intended to earn a master’s in aeronautical engineering, and then apply to test pilot school at Edwards Air Force Base.

“When the Air Force extended their high-altitude rocket plane experimental programs into actual spaceflight, he’d be a good candidate for a seat in the cockpit,” Aldrin said.

The two laughed when they wondered if the military would dub them “rocket pilots.” After all, Aldrin said, “we’d never heard the word ‘astronaut.’ ”

Aldrin set about earning his doctorate in astronautics from MIT; his thesis, according to his NASA biography, was “Guidance for Manned Orbital Rendezvous.” In 1962, both White and Aldrin applied to become astronauts. White succeeded; NASA turned Aldrin down because he had no test flight experience, said “Who’s Who In Space: The First 25 Years” (G.K. Hall & Co./1987). The “hard charger” refused to concede.

“In summer 1963, I made it through the first cut and was eligible for more testing,” Aldrin wrote in his autobiography. “The physical and psychological examinations were intense, but I passed those hurdles and became one of 34 finalists.”

NASA quickly whittled those down to 15, and then Deke Slayton, head of the Astronaut Office, called and offered the job. Aldrin said his “pulse was thudding in my temples. I felt absolutely giddy.” When he responded, “Shoot, Deke, I’d be delighted to accept,” he was actually thinking: “Shoot? Where the hell had that expression come from?”

Aldrin made his first trip into space in November 1966, piloting Gemini XII. The four-day mission with James Lovell orbited Earth 59 times. Astronauts Alan Shepard and Deke Slayton, in “Moon Shot” (Turner Publishing/1994), praised Aldrin for his skill during a spacewalk, and his expertise during a rendezvous. His co-workers nicknamed him Dr. Rendezvous.

“The docking and rendezvous techniques he devised for spacecraft,” said buzzaldrin.com, “became critical to the success of the Gemini and Apollo programs.”

In July 1969, as lunar module Eagle pilot, Aldrin followed Armstrong out onto the Sea of Tranquility.

“We were supposed to do a little housekeeping in the LM, eat a meal, and then try to sleep for seven hours before getting ready to explore the surface,” Aldrin wrote in “Men From Earth.” “But whoever signed off on that plan didn’t know much psychology – or physiology, for that matter. We’d just landed on the moon and there was a lot of adrenaline still zinging through our bodies.”

Before stepping out, he took Communion. His pastor had given him “a tiny Communion kit that had a silver chalice and wine vial about the size of the tip of my little finger,” he said. “I poured the wine into the chalice. The wine looked like syrup as it swirled around the sides of the cup in the light gravity before it finally settled at the bottom. Eagle’s metal body creaked. I ate the tiny Host and swallowed the wine. I gave thanks for the intelligence and spirit that had brought two young pilots to the Sea of Tranquility.

“Aldrin had originally planned to share the event with the world over the radio. However, at the time NASA was still reeling from a lawsuit filed by the firebrand atheist Madalyn Murray O’Hair, resulting in the ceremony never being broadcast,” said guardian.co.uk. “After the Apollo VIII crew had read out the Genesis creation account in orbit, O’Hair wanted a ban on NASA astronauts practising (stet) religion on earth, in space or ‘around and about the moon’ while on duty.”

The website said Slayton “told him to tone down his lunar communiqué,” advising: “ ‘Go ahead and have communion, but keep your comments more general.’ ”

Once out of the Eagle, one of Aldrin’s first tasks was to erect the American flag. He pushed the pole into the “powdery surface,” he said in “Men From Earth,” and then “snap(ped) off a crisp West Point salute.”

As their time on the surface drew to a close, Aldrin dropped a “small packet” containing commemorative items. There were two medals given to the widows of Soviet cosmonauts Yuri Gagarin, the first man to travel into space, and Vladimir Komarov, who died in 1967 when his Soyuz I parachutes failed and he hit the Earth at 400 mph.

There was “a small gold olive branch, one of four (Armstrong and I had) bought,” Aldrin wrote. “We’d given the other three to our wives as a way of joining them to our mission.” In addition, “the packet also contained the tiny silicone disk marked ‘From Planet Earth’ and etched with goodwill messages from the leaders of 73 nations, including the Soviet Union.”

The final item was in homage to a friend, a patch from Apollo I, in which White had been incinerated when a flash fire erupted.

“I tossed the pouch onto the soil among our jumbled footprints,” Aldrin wrote. “Once more I thought of Ed White. Only 10 years before we had talked about becoming rocket pilots. In a way, Ed had come with me to the moon.”

Michael Shinabery is an education specialist and Humanities Scholar with the New Mexico Museum of Space History. E-mail him at [email protected].

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