Back to the Moon-ARC

Jim rounded the corner of the desk and heard a voice talking from what sounded like a deep well. The audio was crackly. He knew what he was listening to an instant before he saw the screen and had his guess confirmed. From the speakers came “…forged man’s destiny of tomorrow. And, as we leave the Moon at Taurus-Littrow, we leave as we came and, God willing, as we shall return, with peace and hope for all mankind. Godspeed the crew of Apollo 17.” The voice of Gene Cernan trailed off as Stetson pressed the pause on the touch screen.

“Watching Apollo 17 again?” Jim smiled and shook his head at the same time. “God, how many times have you watched that video? A hundred times?” He reached behind Stetson and pulled forward a chair. Though good- naturedly teasing his friend, he didn’t really take his own eyes from the screen as he sat down. After all, no modern astronaut had ever made it higher than a few hundred miles above Earth. Cernan had walked on a body about two hundred and forty thousand miles away. What astronaut wouldn’t be in awe of the Apollo-era groundbreakers?

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Jim. This is the first time I ever saw this,” Stetson replied with a smile. He pulled himself to an upright position and turned to face his friend.

“You know how long it has taken us to get here. Jesus, what took so long?” Jim said. “You know, I’ve been thinking about the Moon since I was a twelve-year-old kid listening to Reagan announce that NASA was going to build a space station. To think that man walked on the Moon just a year or so before I was born is almost bizarre.”

“Hell, Jim, I was five the first time I saw this, and it was live. If we wait much longer I’m gonna be too freakin’ old.” Stetson pointed to the frozen image of the lunar surface. “I’m ready. I’ve never been more ready, and I’m getting impatient.”

“Amen shouted somebody from the choir,” England replied. They’d had this conversation, or a variant of it, many times before, pretty much as long as they had known each other.

“Mankind just does stuff in fits and starts historically. We went to the Moon for a grand total of three years and then stopped. We just stopped! We took apart the greatest machines ever built by man and put them in museums. Heck, one of them is standing up as a marker for the Alabama/Tennessee state line. Can you believe that?” There were Saturn V rockets in the museums across the country and the Saturn IB at the Alabama Welcome Center.

“Been there. Seen ’em.” Jim could tell what sort of mood Bill was in. He’d also heard this part before.

“Did you know that that SOB Nixon decided to kill the Apollo program before Armstrong ever set foot on the Moon? I guess he just couldn’t stand the thought of Kennedy getting all the credit. What a vindictive sonofa—”

“Whoa, just a minute here.” This direction for the conversation was a twist on the usual one. “This is a new one, Bill. What the hell are you talking about? Nixon?” Though they had talked about how the lunar missions should have continued so that today they’d be having this discussion about going to Mars, and not back to the Moon, Nixon being an SOB had not come up before. At least not in this context.

Stetson stood up, unconsciously (perhaps) putting himself into the mode where whomever was around had no choice but to listen to what he had to say. Jim was used to it and wasn’t intimidated in the least. He knew Stetson too well for that; he was just curious about what his friend was going on about.

“Think about it. Yes, Apollo was expensive and there was the Vietnam War going on. Those were tough years, with riots, assassinations, protests, and all that crap to contend with. But Tricky Dick could look past all that and see what mattered to him, not the good of the country or future generations—just to good old Tricky Dick.” He reached down and picked up from his desk his model of the Apollo lunar lander.

Holding the lander in his left hand and motioning at Jim with his right, he began again. “Nixon was president of the United States—the highest achievement that anyone can aspire to. He’d done it. He’d beaten his adversaries and was riding high. And every time there was a new story on television about the upcoming Moon landings, what did he see?” Stetson paused for effect, not really to allow Jim to answer his somewhat rhetorical question.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What?” Jim didn’t really care to offer his own opinion, since he wasn’t sure what might tweak his friend too far at the moment.

“He saw another president getting all the credit. He saw John Fitzgerald Kennedy standing at the podium over at Rice University saying, ‘We choose to go the Moon in this decade and do the other thing.…’ He saw or heard JFK whenever or wherever the Apollo program came up. And that simply burned him. And do you know why it burned him?”

Jim decided to just keep his mouth shut. He leaned back in his chair and slumped a little to relax. Politics never seemed to help the space program, and bitching about it was almost as fruitful. He decided to just ride the storm out.

“Do you know who ran against John Kennedy in the presidential election of 1960? That election was the closest election in modern history—until the election of George Bush in 2000, that is. Do you know who he beat to become president?”

All England could do was shrug. He knew his American history fairly well, but keeping a mental log of who lost presidential elections was not among the facts that he’d memorized in order to pass the public-school history exams.

“Well, and the kicker, there was controversy about some ballet-box stuffing throwing some doubt on the election outcome even!” Stetson sat the lander back on his desk, thinking to himself, Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed. He smiled inwardly and then answered his own question. “Richard Milhous Nixon. Kennedy beat Mr. Nixon for the presidency, just barely, in 1960. Nixon even made a statement saying something about the country didn’t need the turmoil of an investigation into the election at that time.”

“I don’t recall ever hearing that in school,” Jim said with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s true. Look it up. So, what do you think Mr. Nixon thought about when he was president at one of the greatest moments in human history and the guy who beat him, perhaps questionably, almost a decade previously—a guy who had been dead for years—was getting all the credit? Do you think that made the man who kept an enemies list happy? No way! The SOB must’ve seethed at the thought, and I am convinced the old man had neither sympathy nor remorse for ending the Apollo program. He probably said good riddance.” Stetson walked a few steps to his window overlooking the complex of the Johnson Space Center. “And that’s why we’re just now going back to the Moon instead of Mars.”

“Ha, ha!” England guffawed. “Bill, that makes some crazy-conspiracy sense, but I cannot imagine that’s how it came down. The cost of the war, the civil-rights movement, and the Cold War—NASA just became too expensive, and people lost interest. It got boring.”

“Well…” Stetson, still looking out at the mid-day sun, seemed to have his sails deflated by his friend’s comment. Jim was just glad that it seemed to be calming him down.