“Stand by for drogue chutes,” Lovell said to his crewmates, “and let’s hope our pyros are good.” The altimeter ticked from 28,000 feet to 26,000. At the stroke of 24,000, the astronauts heard a pop. Looking through their windows, they saw two bright streams of fabric. Then the streams billowed open.
“We got two good drogues,” Swigert shouted to the ground.
“Roger that,” Kerwin said.
Lovell’s instrument panel could no longer measure the snail-like speed of his ship or its all but insignificant altitude, but the commander knew, from the flight plan profile, that at the moment he should be barely 20,000 feet above the water and falling at just 175 miles per hour. Less than a minute later, the two drogues jettisoned themselves and three others appeared, followed by the three main chutes. These tents of fabric streamed for an instant and then, with a jolt that rocked the astronauts in their couches, flew open. Lovell instinctively looked at his dashboard, but the velocity indicator registered nothing. He knew, however, that he was now moving at just over 20 miles per hour.
On the deck of the USS
Suddenly, from over Richmond’s shoulder, someone shouted, “There it is!”
Richmond turned. A tiny black pod suspended under three mammoth clouds of fabric was dropping toward the water just a few hundred yards away. He whooped. The men on either side of him did the same, as did the sailors on the rails and decks. Nearby, the network cameramen followed where the spectators were looking, and trained their lenses in the same direction. Back in Mission Control, the giant main viewing screen in the front of the room flashed on, and a picture of the descending spacecraft appeared. The men in that room cheered as well.
“Odyssey, Houston, We show you on the mains,” Joe Kerwin shouted, covering his free ear with his hand. “It really looks great.” Kerwin listened for a response but could hear nothing above the noise around him. He repeated the essence of the message: “Got you on television, babe!”
Inside the spacecraft that the men in Mission Control and the men on the
“Hang on,” the commander said. “If this is anything like Apollo 8, it could be rough.”
Thirty seconds later, the astronauts felt a sudden but surprisingly painless deceleration, as their ship – behaving nothing like Apollo 8 – sliced smoothly into the water. Instantly, the crewmates looked up toward their portholes. There was water running down the outside of all five panes.
“Fellows,” Lovell said, “we’re home.”
Scares on Apollo 14
Because the scientists had given Fra Mauro a high priority, it was re-assigned from the Apollo 13 mission. The first two landings had been on easy, flat territory, but Fra Mauro was the first of more challenging landing sites, a range of rugged mounds 177 kilometres to the east of the Apollo 12 landing site. A legacy from Apollo 13 were changes to the spacecraft to try and prevent another explosive, cliff hanging mission. This time there were three oxygen tanks, instead of two, the third isolated, and a new spare 400-ampere battery to carry the mission from any point. However this mission came up with new twists to keep the crews and flight controllers on their toes, and to remind everyone once again these space flights are never a routine operation.