Free Magnificent Desolation by Buzz Aldrin

atmosphere resisting us, and only one-sixth gravity to overcome, so even though we had worked on this aspect of the flight in simulators, the
Eagle’s
speed in whisking us into space was almost surprising. Nothing we had ever practiced in simulators could compare with our swift swoop upward. Within seconds we were streaking high above the moon’s surface.
    Unfortunately, I neglected to turn the camera on just before our ascent, so we didn’t get a good shot out the window as we left the ground. It would have been interesting to study the effects of our liftoff around the descent stage that remained on the moon. But I was more concerned with our actual liftoff than with getting good pictures. It was critical to get into orbit with the right speed. As the ascent engine sent us into orbit, we sort of wallowed around, momentarily struggling to correct the center of gravity with the four rod thrusters. It was a little unnerving.
    In fact, we were somewhat concerned because we knew that shortly after liftoff the spacecraft was going to pitch forward about 45 degrees, so it could be more nearly horizontal as it gained more velocity and not so much altitude, a procedure necessary for us to rendezvous with Mike, who was guiding
Columbia
around the moon in an orbit sixty miles high.
    Despite the surprises, I described our liftoff to Houston as, “Very smooth, a very quiet ride.”
    We lifted off the moon at 1:54 p.m. (EDT), and, within a couple of hours, we had completed the first of two orbits necessary to rendezvous with Mike. During our second orbit, the
Columbia
came into view. We had a little jolt at the moment of docking because Neil and I had arbitrarily altered the flight plans slightly in a spur of the moment decision opting for a more direct path to Mike. Nobody at Mission Control seemed to mind, although there were probably a couple of rendezvous experts sitting there staring at their computers fretting, “What are they doing? What are they
doing?”
But I was known as “Dr. Rendezvous” around NASA—sometimes respectfully so, and at times derisively— because of my passion for the subject and my rendezvous doctoral thesis at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). I didn’t really mind; in fact, usually after my fellow corps of astronauts hemmed and hawed, balking and complaining at my ideas, they more frequently than not embraced them and incorporated my ideas and calculations into their plans. I just took it as a backhanded compliment. Perhaps when the guys on the console noticed Neil and me changing the rendezvous details, they figured, “Well, Buzz knows what he’s doing.”
    Overall, the rendezvous and docking with Mike were absolutely beautiful. We came up from below, evenly, steadily, as if we were riding on a monorail. Nothing disturbed our line of guidance. It was the kind of thing I had dreamed of while developing my theories and techniques at MIT on manned rendezvous. During the Gemini 12 mission, we had faced some challenges in our rendezvous and docking maneuvers with the Agena target vehicle, when our guidance radar went down. I pretty much had to calculate the coordinates in my head, with the help of my Pickett slide rule that I had brought along just in case. But it gave me a chance to test out the theories I had developed, and they worked!
    We docked with Mike at 5:35 p.m. (EDT), nearly four hours after lifting off from the Sea of Tranquillity The sound of those latches snapping shut as Mike secured the
Eagle
to the
Columbia
was one of the sweetest I’d ever heard. Neil and I vacuumed up as much moondust as we could, so we would be able to get into the command module without carrying too much of it in from the lunar module. No one knew theeffects the dust might have on our skin, lungs, or blood, so Mission Control didn’t want us to drag along any more of it than necessary.
    Once we were certain it was safe to do so, Mike unsealed the access tunnel between the LM and the command