Magnificent Desolation_ The Long Journey Home From the Moon - Buzz Aldrin [23]
We reported it to Mission Control and then tried to sleep and forget about it—as if that were possible. But we knew Mission Control would help figure out a solution, and if we could not get that circuit breaker pushed in the next morning when we were ready to lift off, then we would have to do something else. For now, they wanted us to leave the circuit breaker out anyhow. So, while Neil and I tried to rest, the guys in Houston debated how we could work around that circuit, in case it had to be left open.
TRYING TO SLEEP in the lunar lander was difficult. Not only was it cramped and uncomfortable, it was cold. We turned the heat full up inside the cabin, put on our helmets, and tried to get the water circulation system in our suits to warm us, but it was still awfully cold. After about three hours it became almost impossible to sleep. We could have raised the window shades and let the sunlight in to warm us, but with the sun so bright, that would have kept us from sleeping, too. So our rest was more like a fitful state of drowsing. I don’t imagine, though, that anyone would have slept too well after walking around on the moon all evening, and then planning to lift off for the journey home in six or seven hours.
When we received our wake-up call from Houston, the question of how to handle the broken circuit breaker had still not been solved. After examining it more closely, I thought that if I could find something in the LM to push into the circuit, it might hold. But since it was electrical, I decided not to put my finger in, or use anything that had metal on the end. I had a felt-tipped pen in the shoulder pocket of my suit that might do the job. After moving the countdown procedure up by a couple of hours in case it didn’t work, I inserted the pen into the small opening where the circuit breaker switch should have been, and pushed it in; sure enough, the circuit breaker held. We were going to get off the moon, after all. To this day I still have the broken circuit breaker switch and the felt-tipped pen I used to ignite our engines.
Astronaut Ron Evans had taken over as Capcom at Mission Control the morning we were preparing to lift off from the moon. He and I began the extensive rundown of checks before firing up our engine. Technically, once we were off the surface, we would no longer be known as Tranquillity Base, but Eagle once again, even though we were the same people on the same communication systems. But such was the NASA procedure.
Ron instructed us to make sure the rendezvous radar was turned off at the beginning of our ascent. I wasn’t too happy about that, as I preferred having it on, just in case, but at the time I hadn’t yet learned that it was the rendezvous radar that had overloaded our computers during our landing on the moon. I acquiesced to Mission Control and turned the radar off.
We performed an intricate series of star-sightings through our telescope, ascertaining our position vis-à-vis several different stars including Rigel, Navi, and Capella, to align our guidance platform prior to liftoff. By averaging our readings, we would know what kind of orbit we needed to rendezvous with Mike again.
The liftoff from the moon was intrinsically a tense time for all of us. The ascent stage simply had to work. The engines had to fire, propelling us upward, leaving the descent stage of the LM still sitting on the moon. We had no margin for error, no second chances, no rescue plans if the liftoff