Читать книгу Rite of Passage for the Home and Church - D. Kevin Brown - Страница 8

Even if you aren’t totally familiar with the 1970 voyage of Apollo 13, you are probably familiar with the expression made famous by astronaut Jim Lovell, “Houston, we have a problem.” Jim Lovell shared these now infamous words as he and two other flight partners, Fred Haise and Jack Swigert, learned that the explosion of an onboard-oxygen tank had crippled their spacecraft. Perhaps some of you may remember this event that took place on April 13, 1970. Some may have even watched this drama unfold on TV. I was only 2 years old and can’t remember it at all; but I have seen the 1995 movie directed by Ron Howard, starring Tom Hanks. The movie documents how hundreds of people in the Houston Texas Mission Control Center worked to bring these men home. For those of you who know the story or have seen the movie, you know the breathtaking adventure that it was for these three astronauts, their families and the American public. It seems those who were around in 1970 were glued to their TV as they wondered, prayed and hoped that somehow these men could be rescued and brought safely home.

Imagine this scene with me. Put yourself back into 1970. You have just heard about the explosion in space. Everyone is wondering what is going to happen to these three astronauts in that tiny little capsule. Could the experts at Houston’s Mission Control get them home? The crippled capsule is called the Odyssey and it is hurtling through space headed toward the earth’s atmosphere at 35,245 feet per second. The astronauts are losing oxygen. All the computers on board the Odyssey are basically unusable because of the explosion. Mission Control has to figure out a way to slingshot the spaceship around the moon and back into earth’s atmosphere. Without computer guidance, the prospects of doing so seem impossible. Everyone is told there are no guarantees and the Odyssey could miss the earth completely or bounce off the atmosphere, if they do not hit it at the right trajectory. The heat shield on the underbelly of the Odyssey, which protects the men from the blazing inferno on reentry, may be cracked and they could burn up. Even if they make it through the earth’s atmosphere, the parachutes may not open upon reentry.

The famous and reliable, CBS News anchorman, Walter Cronkite is giving play by play of these events. There are TV cameras on board the USS Iwo Jima in the South Pacific, where the Odyssey is supposed to hit the ocean upon reentry. The world waits. Everyone has been told the ordeal of reentry to our atmosphere will last several minutes. There will be radio silence, or blackout, during Odyssey’s superheated reentry through the earth’s atmosphere. Walter Cronkite reports, “With no radio signal, there will be no way to tell how the crew and ship are faring.” Astronaut Jim Lovell radios to Mission Control they are preparing to make reentry. Then there is silence. Nothing but the static of the radio can be heard in Houston and across America by way of television. Cronkite indicates the blackout should last three minutes.

Time inches forward, second by second. People look at their watches or mantle clocks as the seconds tick off, counting down the time. Finally three minutes elapse and Houston makes the radio call, “Odyssey, this is Houston, do you read me?” This radio request is repeated over and over again. Cronkite alerts the waiting world, “Expected time of reacquisition, the time when the astronauts were expected to come out of blackout, has come and gone.” Cronkite continues with a shaky and uncertain voice, “About all we can do now is just listen, and … hope.” “Odyssey this is Houston, do you read me?” comes the request again from Mission Control. Three minutes and thirty seconds have now elapsed. “Odyssey this is Houston, do you copy?” A flight engineer from Mission Control breaks in, “That’s four minutes … standing by.” The spaceship is now one minute beyond the maximum. All hope seems lost. Again the request is made, “Odyssey, this is Houston. Do you read me? Come in please!”

What happens next would send goose bumps over the arm of even the most hardened person. On the TV screen appear three small, red parachutes above the blackened, silvery spacecraft dangling below. Suddenly, through the static of the radio, everyone hears these words, “Uh, Hello Houston, this is Odyssey. It’s good to see you again!” The engineers, scientists and experts at Mission Control and literally all of America explode in spontaneous cheering and clapping! Tears flow uncontrollably even from Walter Cronkite, who removes his black, horn-rimmed glasses to wipe his cheek. The cheering, hugs, kisses, tears and joy flow in tumultuous jubilation! They made it! They made it! Thank God they made it home!

I’ve watched that movie and that scene at least a dozen times through the years and even in writing the last paragraph there are tears in my eyes. It’s emotional! Against almost all odds these three men made it home safely! “Welcome home!” they were told by Mission Control in Houston. When I think about the total relief that must have flooded the minds and hearts of the families and all the friends of the astronauts, it is awe-inspiring to me. They made it back home! They are alive, safe and sound!