“
C
hris, you better get out here
quick; I think we’ve had it!”
It was the evening of Monday
13 April 1970 and Flight
Director Gene Kranz was on
the phone to his predecessor
Chris Kraft who had been
promoted to director of Flight
Operations. What was hap-
pening with the Apollo 13’s Odyssey com-
mand module was unclear. While the
Apollo 13 crew – Commander Jim Lovell,
Lunar Module Pilot Fred Haise and Com-
mand Module Pilot Jack Swigert – relayed
readings and warning light indications in
eerily restrained level tones, the atmosphere
at Houston’s Manned Spacecraft Center’s
Mission Control was one of incredulity. The
systems receiving data from the moon-bound
spacecraft were reporting a bewildering
cascade of problems with no observable
pattern to unite them.
A little over 10 minutes earlier, Sy Lieber-
got, a controller at the Electrical, Environ-
mental, and Consumables Management
(EECOM) desk, had made the routine request
that the crew “stir up” the Odyssey’s ox ygen
tanks. Stored in a cold ‘cryogenic’ state,
oxygen and hydrogen flowed into three fuel
cells where they were catalysed by electrodes
to produce the lifeblood of the Apollo
spacecraft: water, oxygen and electricity.
Stirring the tanks was supposed to ensure
an accurate reading of how much of the
strange substance (not quite liquid, not quite
gas) remained. This time, however, failed
switches inside the tank created a short
circuit, igniting the Teflon insulation. The
spacecraft shook and shuddered. Exchanging
frightened glances with his crew, Lovell
noticed that one of the craft’s two main power
distribution panels was offline. “Hey, we’ve
got a problem here!” shouted Swigert. Jack
Lousma, the astronaut serving as CapCom
(the sole official charged with communicat-
ing with the crew) asked the astronauts to
repeat, prompting Lovell’s iconic phrase:
“Houston, we’ve had a problem.”
The rookie astronaut
Apollo 13’s crew found themselves assigned
to the mission through the vagaries of Nasa’s
crew selection process, a complex system
predicated on merit, horse-trading and
chance. James A Lovell Jr was a former naval
aviator and veteran spacefarer who had flown
into space on three previous missions,
including the trailblazing Apollo 8 mission
that had circumnavigated the moon in
December 1968. Fred W Haise Jr was a rookie
astronaut and former fighter pilot who had
been selected for Nasa’s fifth class of astro-
nauts in 1966. Lovell and Haise had both
been part of the backup crew for Apollo 13
but were promoted to the prime crew after
the original commander, Alan Shepard (the
first American in space), was grounded to
recover from an ear operation. The back-up’s
back-up, Jack Swigert, was assigned to the
crew after astronaut Ken Mattingly had been
exposed to rubella. As the astronaut corps’
sole bachelor, the media was fascinated by
Swigert, dubbing him a “swinger” with a “girl
in every airport”.
Apollo 13’s mission profile reflected the
ambitions of a space agency with two crewed
lunar landings under its belt. July 1969’s
Apollo 11 and November 1969’s Apollo 12
had both landed on lunar maria, dark patches
on the near side of the moon named by
ancient astronomers for their resemblance to
earthly seas. These vast and dusty volcanic
plains provided comparatively easy landing
sites but from a geologist’s perspective they
could not compare to the mysteries of the
Lunar Highlands. Apollo 13’s landing
site was near the mountain-like rim
of the Fra Mauro crater. Named
after a 15th-century Venetian
cartographer, Fra Mauro’s
topography presented a
challenging landing as
reflected sunlight would
dissolve the shadows of its
boulders and hills.
For all their speechmaking
and flag planting, the Apollo
astronauts had work to do. In the
cumulative three and a half days that
they spent on the moon’s surface outside of
their lunar modules, the crews of the entire
Apollo programme collected and returned
382 kilograms of lunar rock and soil, ob-
tained more than 6,000 images of the lunar
surface and deployed 2,100 kilograms of
scientific equipment. Apollo 13’s mission was
to investigate whether material scattered by
the impact that had formed the crater might
shed light on the early geological history of
the Earth and the moon. Haise and Lovell
would drill 10 feet into the lunar surface as
well as deploying equipment to measure
lunar seismic activity, solar-wind particles
and a Lunar Atmosphere Detector.
This busy schedule was, of course, contin-
gent on the astronauts making it to the moon
in the first place. Keeping three fragile
human bodies alive in the pitiless void of
outer space was an absurdly complicated
task. Setting the wrong course at critical
junctures during the mission might see the
craft slam into the Earth or the moon or,
grimmer still, stranded in orbit indefinitely.
Cabin pressure had to be maintained, along
with a supply of oxygen. If the craft depres-
surised then the crew faced the unimaginable
The race to save Apollo 13
Up, up and away
ABOVE: Apollo 13 heads for the
moon atop a Saturn V rocket
on 11 April 1970
LEFT: The mission emblem
- featuring the motto,
translated as “From the
Moon, Knowledge” – worn
by the astronauts on their
spacesuits
GETTY IMAGES/NASA
“
C
hris, you better get out here
quick; I think we’ve had it!”
It was the evening of Monday
13 April 1970 and Flight
Director Gene Kranz was on
the phone to his predecessor
Chris Kraft who had been
promoted to director of Flight
Operations. What was hap-
pening with the Apollo 13’s Odyssey com-
mand module was unclear. While the
Apollo 13 crew – Commander Jim Lovell,
Lunar Module Pilot Fred Haise and Com-
mand Module Pilot Jack Swigert – relayed
readings and warning light indications in
eerily restrained level tones, the atmosphere
at Houston’s Manned Spacecraft Center’s
Mission Control was one of incredulity. The
systems receiving data from the moon-bound
spacecraft were reporting a bewildering
cascade of problems with no observable
pattern to unite them.
A little over 10 minutes earlier, Sy Lieber-
got, a controller at the Electrical, Environ-
mental, and Consumables Management
(EECOM) desk, had made the routine request
that the crew “stir up” the Odyssey’s ox ygen
tanks. Stored in a cold ‘cryogenic’ state,
oxygen and hydrogen flowed into three fuel
cells where they were catalysed by electrodes
to produce the lifeblood of the Apollo
spacecraft: water, oxygen and electricity.
Stirring the tanks was supposed to ensure
an accurate reading of how much of the
strange substance (not quite liquid, not quite
gas) remained. This time, however, failed
switches inside the tank created a short
circuit, igniting the Teflon insulation. The
spacecraft shook and shuddered. Exchanging
frightened glances with his crew, Lovell
noticed that one of the craft’s two main power
distribution panels was offline. “Hey, we’ve
got a problem here!” shouted Swigert. Jack
Lousma, the astronaut serving as CapCom
(the sole official charged with communicat-
ing with the crew) asked the astronauts to
repeat, prompting Lovell’s iconic phrase:
“Houston, we’ve had a problem.”
The rookie astronaut
Apollo 13’s crew found themselves assigned
to the mission through the vagaries of Nasa’s
crew selection process, a complex system
predicated on merit, horse-trading and
chance. James A Lovell Jr was a former naval
aviator and veteran spacefarer who had flown
into space on three previous missions,
including the trailblazing Apollo 8 mission
that had circumnavigated the moon in
December 1968. Fred W Haise Jr was a rookie
astronaut and former fighter pilot who had
been selected for Nasa’s fifth class of astro-
nauts in 1966. Lovell and Haise had both
been part of the backup crew for Apollo 13
but were promoted to the prime crew after
the original commander, Alan Shepard (the
first American in space), was grounded to
recover from an ear operation. The back-up’s
back-up, Jack Swigert, was assigned to the
crew after astronaut Ken Mattingly had been
exposed to rubella. As the astronaut corps’
sole bachelor, the media was fascinated by
Swigert, dubbing him a “swinger” with a “girl
in every airport”.
Apollo 13’s mission profile reflected the
ambitions of a space agency with two crewed
lunar landings under its belt. July 1969’s
Apollo 11 and November 1969’s Apollo 12
had both landed on lunar maria, dark patches
on the near side of the moon named by
ancient astronomers for their resemblance to
earthly seas. These vast and dusty volcanic
plains provided comparatively easy landing
sites but from a geologist’s perspective they
could not compare to the mysteries of the
Lunar Highlands. Apollo 13’slanding
site was near the mountain-likerim
of the Fra Mauro crater. Named
after a 15th-century Venetian
cartographer, Fra Mauro’s
topography presented a
challenging landing as
reflected sunlight would
dissolve the shadows of its
boulders and hills.
For all their speechmaking
and flag planting, the Apollo
astronauts had work to do. Inthe
cumulative three and a half daysthat
they spent on the moon’s surfaceoutsideof
their lunar modules, the crews of the entire
Apollo programme collected and returned
382 kilograms of lunar rock and soil, ob-
tained more than 6,000 images of the lunar
surface and deployed 2,100 kilograms of
scientific equipment. Apollo 13’s mission was
to investigate whether material scattered by
the impact that had formed the crater might
shed light on the early geological history of
the Earth and the moon. Haise and Lovell
would drill 10 feet into the lunar surface as
well as deploying equipment to measure
lunar seismic activity, solar-wind particles
and a Lunar Atmosphere Detector.
This busy schedule was, of course, contin-
gent on the astronauts making it to the moon
in the first place. Keeping three fragile
human bodies alive in the pitiless void of
outer space was an absurdly complicated
task. Setting the wrong course at critical
junctures during the mission might see the
craft slam into the Earth or the moon or,
grimmer still, stranded in orbit indefinitely.
Cabin pressure had to be maintained, along
with a supply of oxygen. If the craft depres-
surised then the crew faced the unimaginable
The race to save Apollo 13
Up, up and away
ABOVE: Apollo 13 heads for the
moon atop a Saturn V rocket
on 11 April 1970
LEFT: The mission emblem
- featuring the motto,
translated as “From the
Moon, Knowledge” – worn
by the astronauts on their
spacesuits
GETTY IMAGES/NASA