Disaster in Space

The three astronauts of Apollo 13 were doomed.

That’s how it seemed on April 13, 1970.

Commander Jim Lovell and officers Fred Haise and Jack Swigert were speeding through space when a violent explosion rocked their spacecraft. The blast tore apart one side of their ship. Within minutes, half their oxygen supply had bled out, and the ship’s power was draining fast.

Without power and oxygen, the astronauts would soon suffocate. And they would be stranded in the forever blackness of space.

Apollo 13 was supposed to be a research mission to the moon. Now it would be a fight for survival hundreds of thousands of miles from Earth.

The three astronauts of Apollo 13 were doomed.

That’s how it seemed on April 13, 1970. Commander Jim Lovell and officers Fred Haise and Jack Swigert were speeding through space when an explosion rocked their spacecraft. The blast tore apart one side of the ship. Within minutes, half their oxygen supply was gone. The ship’s power was draining fast.

Without power and oxygen, the men would soon die. And they would be stranded in space.

Apollo 13 was supposed to be a research mission to the moon. Now it would be a fight for survival hundreds of thousands of miles from Earth.

Two days earlier, Apollo 13 had blasted off from Florida’s Kennedy Space Center. Lovell, Haise, and Swigert were strapped inside their small spacecraft, which was perched atop a 360-foot-tall rocket packed with millions of pounds of explosive fuel.

Five, four, three, two, one . . .

With a deafening roar and a brilliant flare of fiery gas, the rocket catapulted Apollo 13 into the sky. It streaked through the air at 24,000 miles per hour—14 times the speed of a bullet. The force strained the astronauts’ hearts. It stretched back the skin on their faces until it seemed the skin would rip away from their skulls. The men felt that their bones could shatter.

But this was normal. In fact, the launch was just about perfect.

Soon the astronauts had left Earth and were cruising toward their destination. Their mission was to land on the moon and explore a hilly section called Fra Mauro. The 240,000-mile journey would take three days, and it would not be a luxurious ride.

The astronauts were crammed into Apollo 13’s command module, a car-sized capsule, nicknamed Odyssey. It was part cockpit, part sleeping cabin. Meals were pouches of dried food, prepared by adding warm water and kneading for three minutes. There were no showers, no sinks, no toilets. (The astronauts urinated into bags and then released their urine into space through a hatch. Solid waste was sealed up in odor-proof plastic bags to be brought back to Earth.) And, of course, there was no gravity to hold the astronauts—or anything else—down. Floating in their jumpsuits, the men looked like big fish stuck in a tiny tank.

But Lovell, Haise, and Swigert were thrilled and honored to be on this mission, and they were confident they would succeed.

After all, they had a team of brilliant flight engineers supporting them back at Mission Control in Houston, Texas. Like hovering parents, these engineers monitored every detail of the flight, from the ship’s position in space to each astronaut’s heartbeat. The astronauts and Mission Control stayed in constant contact.

Two days into the journey, the mission seemed flawless. There was no sign of the catastrophe to come.

Two days earlier, Apollo 13 had blasted off from Florida’s Kennedy Space Center. Lovell, Haise, and Swigert were strapped inside their small spacecraft. The ship was perched atop a 360-foot-tall rocket packed with explosive fuel.

Five, four, three, two, one . . .

With a roar and a flare of fiery gas, the rocket catapulted Apollo 13 into the sky. It streaked through the air at 24,000 miles per hour, 14 times the speed of a bullet. The force strained the astronauts’ hearts. It stretched back the skin on their faces until it seemed the skin would rip away from their skulls. The men felt that their bones could shatter.

But this was normal. In fact, the launch was just about perfect.

The astronauts were on their way. They planned to land on the moon and explore a section called Fra Mauro. The 240,000-mile trip would take three days. The ride would not be comfortable.

The men were crammed into Apollo 13’s command module. This car-sized capsule was nicknamed Odyssey. It was part cockpit, part sleeping cabin. Meals were pouches of dried food, prepared by adding warm water. There were no showers, no sinks, no toilets. (The men urinated into bags and then released the urine into space through a hatch. Solid waste was sealed up in odor-proof bags to be brought back to Earth.) And there was no gravity to hold the astronauts down. Floating in their jumpsuits, the men looked like big fish stuck in a tiny tank.

But Lovell, Haise, and Swigert were thrilled to be on this mission. They felt sure they would succeed. 

After all, they had a team of brilliant flight engineers to support them. These engineers worked at Mission Control in Houston, Texas. They monitored every detail of the flight, from the ship’s position in space to each astronaut’s heartbeat.

Two days into the journey, all was well. There was no sign of the disaster to come.

Only 15 years before the launch of Apollo 13, the idea of humans traveling through space was the stuff of science fiction. But by the early 1960s, both America and Russia were racing to be the first country to put a human in space.

Leading America’s efforts was a new government agency called the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA). NASA hired hundreds of brilliant scientists and engineers. They perfected rockets powerful enough to blast into space. They designed new aircraft. And they began training astronauts, 20th-century Christopher Columbuses who would journey into the vast and uncharted frontier of space.

The space program became a source of enormous pride to Americans. And there was no moment more triumphant than on July 20, 1969, when American astronaut Neil Armstrong became the first human on the moon. Some 600 million people around the world tuned in to the TV broadcast to witness Armstrong’s boot making its mark on the moon’s sandy surface.

In the months after Armstrong’s celebrated step, however, something unexpected happened: Many Americans lost interest in space travel. After a decade with dozens of successful missions, space travel had come to seem rather ho-hum.

That is, until 55 hours and 53 minutes into the Apollo 13 mission, when disaster struck.

Just 15 years before the launch of Apollo 13, the idea of humans in space was the stuff of science fiction. But by the early 1960s, that had changed. The U.S. and Russia were racing to be the first country to put a human in space.

America had a new government agency called the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA). NASA hired hundreds of scientists and engineers. They perfected rockets powerful enough to blast into space. They designed new aircraft. And they began training astronauts, 20th-century Christopher Columbuses who would explore the huge and uncharted frontier of space. 

The space program was a source of great pride to Americans. Many still recall the moment on July 20, 1969, when American astronaut Neil Armstrong became the first human on the moon. Six hundred million people around the world watched on TV as Armstrong’s boot made its mark on the moon’s sandy surface.

But in the months after that famous step, something unexpected happened. Many Americans lost interest in space travel. After 10 years and dozens of missions, space travel had come to seem rather ho-hum.

That is, until 55 hours and 53 minutes into the Apollo 13 mission. At that moment, disaster struck.

At Mission Control in Houston, flight director Gene Kranz gathered his engineers. These men knew Apollo 13’s systems better than they knew their own bedrooms. Now they would do everything in their power to bring the astronauts home. Soon both Kranz’s team and the astronauts had come up with the same idea: to use the LEM as a lifeboat.

The LEM had its own supply of power, oxygen, and water. The astronauts would climb through a hatch into the LEM and stay there until they approached Earth. Then they would climb back into Odyssey for the final plunge through Earth’s atmosphere, during which the ship would be superheated to 5,000 degrees in the thickening air. (Unlike Odyssey, the LEM was not equipped with a heat shield. If the astronauts attempted to enter Earth’s atmosphere in the LEM, they would be incinerated.)

The astronauts had barely settled into the LEM when a new problem cropped up. The journey home would take four days, but the LEM didn’t have enough power or water to last that long. So the astronauts turned off all but the most necessary systems, including the heat. Outside, the temperature was 280 degrees below zero. Soon the men were shivering. But the cold was the least of their worries.

Every minute, it seemed, new problems arose. The ship kept drifting off course. The LEM’s air filters stopped working, and the air became toxic with carbon dioxide, the gas humans exhale with every breath.

With many systems damaged or powered down, the engineers had to use their ingenuity to find creative solutions. The days passed. The astronauts barely slept. Neither did the NASA engineers back on Earth. The LEM became cluttered with trash and full urine bags that floated through the air. Meanwhile, on Earth, people crowded into churches to offer prayers for Apollo 13.

At Mission Control in Houston, flight director Gene Kranz gathered his engineers. These men knew Apollo 13’s systems better than they knew their own homes. Now they would do their best to bring the astronauts home. Both Kranz’s team and the astronauts came up with the same plan: to use the LEM as a lifeboat. 

The LEM had its own supply of power, oxygen, and water. The men would climb through a hatch into the LEM. They would stay there until they approached Earth. Then they would climb back into Odyssey for the final plunge through Earth’s atmosphere, during which the ship would be heated to 5,000 degrees in the thickening air. (Unlike Odyssey, the LEM had no heat shield. If the men tried to enter Earth’s atmosphere in the LEM, they would be incinerated.) 

The three men got into the LEM. But there was a problem. The trip home would take four days, and the LEM didn’t have enough power or water to last that long. So the men turned off most of the systems, including the heat. Outside, the temperature was 280 degrees below zero. Soon the men were shivering.

More problems came up. The ship kept drifting off course. The LEM’s air filters stopped working, and the air filled with carbon dioxide, the gas humans exhale with every breath. It was dangerous to breathe.

With many systems damaged or powered down, the engineers had to use their ingenuity to solve the problems. The days passed. The astronauts barely slept. Neither did the NASA engineers back on Earth. The LEM grew cluttered with trash. Full urine bags floated through the air. Back on Earth, people prayed for Apollo 13.

Apollo 13 approached Earth on the morning of Friday, April 17. The astronauts were about to face the most dangerous part of their journey.

What if Odyssey’s electrical system couldn’t be powered up? What if Odyssey’s heat shield had been damaged in the explosion? What if the parachutes had turned to blocks of ice and didn’t open?

Incredibly, the astronauts had no trouble powering up Odyssey. But what about the heat shield? If it failed, the ship would burn up.

The world would know the fate of Apollo 13 in four minutes. That’s how long communication with Odyssey would be blacked out as it fell to Earth.

“Gentlemen,” Lovell said. “We’re about to re-enter. I suggest you get ready for a ride.”

The men tightened their seat belts as Odyssey began its 25,000-mile-per-hour free fall to Earth. Through the small windows, all they could see was fiery red.

At Mission Control, the command room was packed with engineers and visitors. Nobody spoke. The room was completely silent.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Four minutes . . .

NASA’s Joe Kerwin tried to make contact. “Odyssey, Houston standing by, over.”

Nothing.

“Try again,” Kranz barked.

“Odyssey, Houston standing by, over.”

Still nothing.

Five minutes.

Some engineers fought back tears.

Then, a voice crackled over the radio.

“OK, Joe,” said Swigert.

At Mission Control, joy and relief flooded the entire room. Kranz pumped his fist.

Inside Odyssey, Lovell, Haise, and Swigert watched the sky outside the windows turn from angry red to soft pink and finally to blue. Their speed slowed as the air thickened.

Pop.

Odyssey’s parachutes opened.

The ship floated down to Earth, feather-like. It came to rest in the warm waters of the Pacific Ocean.

The Apollo 13 mission was over, a failed mission that would go down in history as one of NASA’s greatest successes.

Lovell looked at Haise and Swigert. “Fellows,” he said, “we’re home.” 

Apollo 13 approached Earth on the morning of Friday, April 17. Now came the most dangerous part of the journey.

What if Odyssey’s electrical system couldn’t be powered up? What if the heat shield had been damaged in the blast? What if the parachutes didn’t open? 

The men were lucky. Odyssey started right up. But what about the heat shield? If it failed, the ship would burn up. 

The world would know the fate of Apollo 13 in four minutes. That’s how long communication with Odyssey would be blacked out as it fell to Earth. 

“Gentlemen,” Lovell said. “We’re about to re-enter. I suggest you get ready for a ride.”

The men tightened their seat belts. Then their 25,000-mile-per-hour free fall to Earth began.

At Mission Control, the command room was packed with engineers and visitors. No one spoke. The room was silent.

Time passed with agonizing slowness. 

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Four minutes . . . 

NASA’s Joe Kerwin tried to make contact. “Odyssey, Houston standing by, over.”

Nothing.

“Try again,” Kranz barked.

“Odyssey, Houston standing by, over.”

Still nothing.

Five minutes.

Engineers fought back tears.

Then, a voice crackled over the radio.

“OK, Joe,” said Swigert.

Joy and relief flooded the room. Kranz pumped his fist. 

Inside Odyssey, the three men watched the sky outside the windows turn from red to pink and then to blue. Their speed slowed as the air thickened.

Pop.

The parachutes opened.

The ship floated down to Earth, featherlike. It came to rest in the Pacific Ocean.

The Apollo 13 mission was over. The mission had failed. But it would go down in history as one of NASA’s greatest successes.

Lovell looked at Haise and Swigert. “Fellows,” he said, “we’re home.”