Page 50 of The Launch

“We all do,” Bill agrees, pointing at the long conference room on their right. “Looks like the meeting is in here.”

Bill and Jeanie take seats together at the long table as other astronauts and engineers file in, some carrying clipboards, some notebooks. Everyone is ready to hear the speaker for the afternoon, a doctor who has flown in from San Antonio, where the United States Air Force School of Aerospace Medicine is located.

“Greetings,” the man says, smoothing the remaining strands of hair over his rapidly-balding pate. “Thank you for having me here today. I’m Dr. Sullivan, and I’m here to discuss the field of space medicine with you. We have several topics to cover, and we will be together for approximately three days. I’d like to discuss what I think are some of our biggest issues, as well as some that you might not give much thought to. We’ve done tests on exposure to G-forces, emergency ejection injuries, and even what occurs in situations of low-oxygen and microgravity.” Dr. Sullivan walks to the board along the wall and picks up a piece of chalk, where he scrawls his name and credentials.

“See?” Jeanie says, leaning in to Bill as she points at the board. “We need to think aboutallof these issues. Very important.”

Bill nods and suppresses a smile; although he does take Jeanie seriously as a scientist—very seriously, as she’s one of thebrightest people he knows—he also still finds himself charmed by the things that come out of her mouth. Her brilliance only enhances her smooth, freckled face, wide eyes, and at the way she absentmindedly tugs on a strand of her long hair when she’s thinking.

Dr. Sullivan spends the next two hours presenting data, test results, and running a Q&A session that is more than interesting enough to keep everyone awake until the coffee break at three-thirty. By the time Bill steps up to the giant silver urn and pours his coffee into a paper cup, Vance and Ed have made their way over.

“I’m ready for space,” Vance says, dumping two packets of sugar into his coffee cup. “Earth is kind of getting to me.”

“Yeah?” Bill cocks an eyebrow at him. “You’re ready to get assigned to Gemini?”

“Hell yeah,” Vance says as he elbows Ed. “I’d sell my soul to get word right now that I’m going to be on that mission. How about you, Maxwell?”

Ed nods in agreement, but he looks almost hesitant. Certainly they’re all equally sure about their desire to venture into space on the Gemini 3, aren’t they? The thought that some of them might be holding out for something else has never really occurred to Bill.

“I’m in,” Ed finally says, nodding more firmly and with determination. “I came here for this.”

There’s a weird tension running through all of them lately that Bill can’t quite put his finger on, but if he had to guess, he’d say that perhaps they’re all under some kind of stress at home as well as at work. It’s not outrageous to think that the other wives feel the same way that Jo does, which is supportive, but occasionally reticent to upend their own lives. And it’s possible that they’ve got family problems from elsewhere: aging parents, siblings asking for money, kids who aren’t behaving right. Heisn’t entirely sure what’s going on in each of their homes, but there’s a raggedness in each man’s eyes that is clearly visible.

Sometimes Bill sees it and it makes him feel less alone. Surely no one else has an ex-wife in a mental facility where she’s getting lithium mixed into her oatmeal, but people have stuff—everyone does. If there’s one thing Bill has realized in his thirty-five years, it’s that everybody’s got their own dramas.

In spite of whatever Bill and his fellow astronauts have going on in their own lives, they put aside their personal troubles on the day that President Kennedy arrives at the cape. It’s a Saturday, and everyone is ready for it. They’ve been prepped up, down, and sideways for his arrival, and every military man in attendance is dressed in uniform. The astronauts are standing at attention when Air Force One lands on the Cape Skid Strip. At the sight of the plane that carries President Kennedy around the world, a feeling of patriotism floods through Bill, and he salutes the Commander in Chief.

Kennedy takes the steps down from the plane, one hand in the air as he waves, the other holding the rail next to him. Everyone squints against the bright sun and the blue morning sky as they watch him descend onto the tarmac. The President is wearing a dark suit with a lighter blue tie, and his shoes are polished to a high shine. This is a day none of them will ever forget.

“Lucky bastards,” Vance Majors says from his spot next to Bill as Kennedy shakes hands with the commander of the Air Force Missile Test Center and then with the NASA Launch Operations Director. “After I go to the moon, I’m landing a cushy job as an Operations Director.” Vance is talking quietly once they’re all at ease. “What about you, Booker? Got your eye on a fat government position someday?”

Bill’s eyes are starry as he looks at Air Force One, a majestic aircraft with an impeccable safety record. At that moment, he’dlike nothing more than to fly that plane—or any plane, for that matter. It’s been a while since he’s been in a cockpit, and he’s starting to itch for the feeling of being far above the earth, looking down at the vast stretches of land and sea. He shrugs. “Dunno,” Bill says. “I like to keep my eye on one goal at a time, accomplish it, and then set a new one.”

Vance makes a face like he’s impressed. “I hear you.”

As the men stand in the sea of blue uniforms, Kennedy is led away with Florida Senator George Smathers. Everyone looks on as they’re briefed out of earshot by astronauts Gordon Cooper and Gus Grissom on the current status of Project Gemini.

“I’d like to be a fly on the wall for this conversation,” Bill says, lifting his chin in the direction of the President and the astronauts who are filling him in on Gemini. The knot of men stand there in the late autumn sun as the wind combs through their hair and flips their neckties around. “I bet they’re going to see Saturn next.”

Sure enough, a big, open-topped Jeep pulls up and the group climbs into it for the drive over to the launch pad, where Kennedy will get an up-close look at the Saturn shuttle. The gathered NASA employees and astronauts watch as the Jeep whips away, and then the group relaxes. People start to chatter, and there are hoots and hollers as everyone recounts how close they were standing to Kennedy.

“Wish I’d been chosen to take the helicopter ride to get an aerial view of the space launch area with JFK,” Vance says wistfully. “I haven’t been in a chopper since Korea.”

“Right,” Bill says, keeping his eyes on the horizon in the distance as he thinks of the helicopter that will take Kennedy out to watch Polaris launch from a submerged submarine. It will be the President’s first time seeing a missile launch, and there’s been much talk of this event, given that Kennedy is such a big supporter of NASA’s space program.

Vance’s mention of Korea is the one blemish on an otherwise exciting and historical day for Bill. He pushes down the feelings that come up any time he’s reminded of being in combat. It always comes out of nowhere and hits him sideways, remembering the smells and sounds and the things he saw. And no matter what, there is a moment each time he thinks of Korea when he wonders whether he’ll ever be able to close his eyes again and not see flashes of blood, of war-torn villages, of loss.

But instead of dwelling on the images in his mind, Bill waits along with the other men for the helicopter’s return. He makes small talk with Ed and Todd, and they joke around, boasting about the planes they’ve flown, the feats they’ve accomplished in the air, and how close they are to being chosen for a space mission. It’s a small window of time that they stand there in the shadow of Air Force One, shooting the breeze and riding the high that comes from seeing JFK in person, but it’s the most relaxed and easy the men have been with one another in months. It feels good to put aside the stress they’re under at NASA and just be a group of guys, laughing and talking under the endless blue sky of a Florida morning in the middle of November.

When he gets home that evening, Bill is whistling the last song that he heard on the radio in the car, which was Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind.” He sets his hat down on the table by the door and accepts hugs from his daughters. His house is fragrant with the smell of a warm pot roast, and Jo has a jazz record playing in the front room.

It’s only about a week and a half until Thanksgiving, and the holidays are everywhere, including in his kitchen, where Kate has placed a long chain made of paper rings. She’s planning to tear off one ring each day between Thanksgiving and Christmas, marking the days until Santa comes. The paper chain blows in the breeze that comes in through the open sliding door, and Jo turns from where she stands at the stove. She smiles at him.

“Hi, honey,” she says. “How was it?”

“Incredible.” Bill unbuttons the top button of his uniform for the first time all day, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Seeing Kennedy at the White House, and then seeing him again today…it’s indescribable, Jojo. It’s monumental, you know?”

Jo stops what she’s doing in the kitchen and looks at her husband. “Of course it is. You’ve worked hard to get here, and you’ve served your country well, Bill.” Her eyes search his face and she reaches out to him, putting both hands on his waist and then sliding them around him as she hugs him close. “You deserve this,” Jo adds softly, pressing her cheek to his chest.

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