Luna Iactus
Parts 3 and 4
III.
In tasks Herculean, men unseen did bear the weight,
Ensuring triumph of the quest that shaped our collective fate.
Behind the veil of spotlight, far from cosmic mystery,
They fueled the engines of the dream, the ark of history.
Unsung, their courage yet inscribes a tale upon the page,
As architects of destiny, they built our modern age.
No less in contribution, and in ingenuity,
They guaranteed salvation for our voyage to the sea.
In tireless endeavor, they would labor, even bleed,
To fortify the mission, to ensure its grand succeed.
To these, whose tasks are silent, yet in worth are loudly seen,
We offer deepest gratitude, as on their work we lean.
In furtherance of our survival, as through time we soar,
Their impact is immeasurable, a truth we can't ignore.
Yet, let us not forget the ones history leaves behind,
Those hampered, squandered potentials, whose brilliance was confined.
First to ascend, Armstrong, hailed as "The Fearless One" ascends,
Confronting voids uncharted, where no earthly path extends.
He rises from terrestrial bounds, to navigate the night,
And clutches firm the joystick, as he scripts his daring flight.
In Armstrong's grasp, the mission's fate securely finds its home,
While far from earthly verdure, yet his essence starts to roam.
His bootprint stamped in lunar dust, a symbol of our reach,
A testament to Euler, Newton, whom his acts beseech.
Upon the silent moonlit plains, he plants our human claim,
Unveiling cosmic chapters in humanity's grand aim.
For Armstrong, "The Fearless One," with courage on his side,
Becomes the pen that writes the lines where science and dream collide.
In zest and zeal, resplendent Aldrin stands, "The Faithful One,"
A forge of will and intellect, where ceaseless work is done.
No shackles of terrestrial pull could bind his soaring quest,
His engineer's precision proves his skills among the best.
He authored books, recounting feats, both lofty and profound,
A narrative in which the pulse of history is found.
Beneath the lunar craters deep, where tales were left untold,
He penned the lines of destiny on lunar plains so cold.
When theory meets the artisan, the iron starts to bend,
And Aldrin, oh "The Faithful One," on whom we all depend.
Within his grip, he holds our trust, as if a fragile star,
And guides us through the unknown void, to dream and wander far.
Sanguine Collins, dubbed as "The Forsaken One," profound,
From Earth, no human ventured farther, all throughout the round.
He faced celestial perils, debris scattered far and near,
Yet ventured forth unflinchingly, no semblance of a fear.
With courage uncontestable, he met his lonesome fate,
While soaring through the cosmic sea, his resolve did not abate.
In solitude's austere embrace, his spirit never swayed,
He mastered every challenge with a resolutely steady blade.
Not one bright glimpse of earthly hue, nor sign of life discerned,
A journey past what mortals dream, at every twist and turn.
Yet, stalwart Collins pressed ahead, with willpower undeterred,
Navigating endless dark, where no other dared have stirred.
In unrelenting vacuum, his courage shone so bright,
A guiding psalm, a radiant beacon piercing through the night.
His every deed, from start to end, by resolute heart was led,
Unwavering in cosmic dance, where even angels fear to tread.
Amidst the lonely heavens, Collins held isolation's band,
His grip on hope and purpose never weakened, ever grand.
He blazed a trail for future kin who aim for realms afar,
His name enshrined in annals as a pioneering avatar.
So history shall etch in stone and echo through the blue,
The tale of Sanguine Collins, and the forsaken, valiant few.
Their legacy a testament to human spirit, tried and true,
A cosmic voyage rendered by a resolute and dauntless crew.
Ah, the Flight Controllers! Unique souls they be,
Stewards of Apollo's cosmic odyssey.
With constitutions forged in molten zeal,
Their undying commitment to the quest was real.
In Houston's vault of Mission Control they dwell,
Monitoring every byte, every signal swell.
With vigilant eyes and nimble hands so sure,
Translating astronaut wishes, their intents to assure.
Clifford Charlesworth, Green Team's luminary guide,
Oversaw the launch and spacewalks far and wide.
Gene Kranz of the White Team, strategist supreme,
Orchestrated lunar landings, fulfilling a dream.
Then Glynn Lunney, Black Team's steadfast sage,
Managed lunar ascent with practiced courage.
These directors of flight, their fame forever sung,
For tireless labor that from their essence sprung.
Hear, too, the CAPCOM's voice, so clear and so fine,
A conduit to astronauts on the celestial line.
From Duke and Evans to McCandless arrayed,
With Lovell, Anders, Mattingly their messages relayed,
Adding Haise and Lind, Garriott, and Schmitt in the list,
Each voice a guiding star in the cosmic mist.
United they stood, a mighty ensemble, a crew,
Elevating Apollo 11's mission to a crescendo true.
Their boundless dedication, beyond mere words to tell,
Is the untold narrative we now know so well.
Of backup stalwarts, Lovell took commanding rein,
Anders, the Pilot of the Module, expertise to gain.
Haise, for Lunar Module Pilot, trained and prepared,
Every one committed, with heroic valor bared.
Anders had flown with Lovell in realms of yore,
Yet soon he'd turn to council duties, legends to explore.
Mattingly, then, ascended to be backup crew,
Ready to take the helm, should Apollo 11 need to renew.
For every lofty mission, prime and backup blend,
With supporting ranks their guidance to extend.
In procedure and training, their focus never slack,
Mission's rules and nuances, they deftly unpack.
Apollo 11’s support was stalwart, undeniably strong,
With Mattingly, Evans, and Pogue forming a throng.
From CAPCOMs to directors, each one in their role,
Charles Duke, Evans, McCandless, Lovell in the scroll.
Flight Directors took their shifts, a cadre of the best,
Charlesworth, Griffin, Kranz, Lunney, Windler, none to rest.
And specialists too, names often left unsaid,
From El-Baz and Debus, to Flowers overseeing what's read.
Foraker, the tailor of suits for the cosmic road,
Garman, computer whiz, where data freely flowed.
Goldschmidt, a master of the microbial field,
Hall, the tech guru, and Hamilton, software’s shield.
Houbolt, who plotted paths, Shoemaker, rocks he'd find,
And Tindall, with techniques and dimensions defined.
Thus, the tale is written, forever to abide,
Of Apollo's great mission, and those who did not hide.
Forever shall resound the praise for known and hidden hands,
Who hoisted high Apollo's quest to far celestial lands.
From flight directors, engineers, to even clerks who charted stars,
Their monumental chronicle endures, surpassing earthly bars.
Their saga graven deeply in the annals of our lore,
A tribute to their sacrifice, their gifts forevermore.
Unwavering in courage, each soul a fortress in the night,
A guardian of Apollo's dream, a beacon in celestial light.
Thus, let the record ever speak their names or hold them dear,
For lifting man to lunar plains, they vanquished doubt and fear.
Their legacy an everlasting mark, their tireless service hailed,
In history's unfading ink, their epic quest has been detailed.
IV.
In the summer of sixty-nine, a daring feat
Was undertaken by the United States.
A mission to the moon, a giant leap
For all of humankind, a momentous date.
The Apollo eleven crew was hand-picked
For their skills and bravery, a noble crew.
Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins
Were the astronauts who took on this task anew.
In roaring fire, from Earth they soared on Saturn's might,
A force of power, its prowess truly out of sight.
Ascending through the sky, they left their sphere behind,
Their homeland blue abandoned, now in heavens they're confined.
They journeyed through the void, a lonely trip
To the moon, a barren rock, a distant land.
They touched down on its surface, a historic grip
On the surface of the moon, a sight so grand.
They walked upon the moon, a wondrous sight
To behold, a moment that will live on.
They planted the American flag, a symbol of might
And returned home, their mission now gone.
A million eyes beheld the mighty craft's ascent,
From shore and road, that wondrous day was spent.
The chiefs of state and emissaries grand,
Ambassadors and reporters crossed the land.
The Vice and former Chief looked on,
With awe they watched the lunar journey dawn.
And Nixon too, the ruler of the free,
His gaze fixed on some guy's TV.
The Saturn-Five, a thundering tower of power,
Was launched on time, at half-past nine that hour.
And twelve short minutes later, 'round the earth,
The spaceship circled, giving birth.
To new-found dreams and plans so bold and bright,
Cold lunar fire in its engines´ light.
On July the 19th, the craft was seen,
To enter orbit, with engines keen.
And then, the lunar soil, with grace and skill,
Brought within the spacecraft's sight with will.
They saw the place they'd set their feet upon,
The Sea of Tranquility, so cold and fair and calm.
From Earth they ventured, astronauts both bold and daring,
With "Eagle" as their steed, towards lunar landscapes staring.
On July's twentieth day, in the year of '69,
They charted paths celestial, for a mission quite divine.
Amidst alarms that rang, their minds were cool,
And Mission Control's guidance helped them through,
For Armstrong took control, with steady hand,
To guide their craft to a craggy strand.
Amidst the blackness of space,
Where silver stars shone bright,
The "Eagle" module with grace,
Descended through the lunar night.
With program alarms aglow,
The crew faced challenges untold,
But Mission Control came to the show,
And guidance to them was doled.
With man in control, not the machine,
The lunar module touched the ground,
Its engines silenced in routine,
A safe landing now was found.
With boulders and craters in the landing site,
The first step was taken, with all in sight,
And with the engines shut down in just three beats,
The first moon landing was done, a swift and sure feat.
And so, with each step they did take,
The first visit to the moon was made,
A triumph for humanity's sake,
A pathway for the future paved.
Thus history was made, a new page was turned,
For mankind's journey to the sky had earned,
A place among the stars, where they will dwell,
With each step forward, as epic tales tell.
And so, the daring deeds of heroes bold and brave,
In moonlit skies their epic journey made,
Three hours, half spent on preparations right,
For Armstrong, Aldrin, to embark that night.
With six and thirty-nine, they leave the craft,
The hatch is opened, their steps they must act,
The lunar surface, down from ladder long,
With measured steps, Armstrong begins his song.
A TV camera, he sweeps the land with might,
Its images, a gift for man´s own sight,
He takes a sample, proves that he has been,
And speaks the words, "A leap for all mankind."
And Aldrin too, the view, he does unfold,
Describing it as "Desolation bold,"
They roam the ground, 0.166g strides,
In search of truth, for all the world beside.
And there, the flag, a symbol of their might,
In planted on the ground with labor bright,
Gray dust they kick, as they fulfill their quest,
Their suits soiled, their epic mission blessed.
In steps Aldrin first, in the LM "Eagle's" hold,
With toil, the film and sample boxes up he rolled,
With aid of tool, the Lunar Equipment Conveyor, to bring,
And up to the hatch with care, their loads they sling.
A patch in memory left they of fallen kin,
Medals of Soviet cosmonauts, peace symbol, and a pin.
The cabin then was cleared, with gear cast aside,
And closed the hatch with firm hand, with naught to hide.
But as within the LM, Aldrin moved around,
A circuit breaker, by chance, was shattered on the ground.
With quick wit, a felt-tip pen was brought to play,
And thus the switch was flipped, and liftoff cleared the way.
For seven hours they rested, waiting then to take their flight,
To reunite with Collins, who had orbited alone all night.
In their lunar ascent, the flag fell down with fabric fluttering,
While Collins had the task to find the lander and some tethering.
And thus concludes the tale of great renown and courage high,
The saga of Apollo Eleven, soaring through the sky.
To touch the lunar surface where no man had stood alone,
To rendezvous with Columbia was the aim that they had known.
Three heroes, Armstrong, Aldrin, Collins, stood upon the stage,
With grateful hearts to all who built this chapter's history page.
From lunar soil that glistens 'neath the ever-watchful moon,
They broadcast thanks to Earth below, fulfilling dreams so soon.
As homeward bound they flew, a problem started to accrue;
The Guam tracking station's guidance, quite abruptly, fell from view.
But thanks to one young lad's assist, the signal was renewed;
The USS Hornet, under Seiberlich, in waters darkly blue.
This vessel chosen for the task, as night around it swirled,
Had NASA team and media, their flags in wind unfurled.
A brewing storm with wicked might endangered the grand goal;
And menaced to unravel plans, to make the mission foul.
Yet weather captain wise and keen, with satellite in sight,
Discerned the storm's impending path, and shifted course just right.
The area for recovery then hastily rearranged;
The mission, thus, was rescued from the tempest's wrath deranged.
With blazing valor born of fire, new heroes make their stand;
Apollo 11 touched the edge, then graced the ocean's sand.
The Navy men, with swiftness keen, appeared to claim their prize;
As capsule met the ocean's womb, they filled the earthly skies.
In sacred rituals next ensued, the astronauts were cleansed;
To shield Earth's soil from moon-dust taint, these measures were dispensed.
Physicians, armed with instruments, examined every man;
And found them sound in body, soul—unharmed by lunar span.
Within protective chambers next, they cautiously were sealed;
To quarantine from alien threats, as secrets were revealed.
Yet soon, a heartfelt gathering, their families did partake;
With open arms and teary eyes, an end to long heartache.
For briefings soon unfolded, with their storied glories told;
Of lunar sights and wondrous feats, as mythic tales unfold.
In final freedom's blissful breath, they tasted earthly air;
Resumed their lives, though altered now, with fame beyond compare.
The poem continues here.