Gratitude, yet again. For more than 25 years, two of America’s Apollo astronauts, Walt Cunningham and Buzz Aldrin, were friends – of each other, many Americans, and me. Courageous patriots, pioneers in their time, both dared, did, and taught by example. We need their example today.
Last January, we lost Walt – whose Apollo 7 mission paved the way for Apollo 11, Buzz’s mission, humankind’s first manned moon landing. Last week was Buzz’s 94th birthday and wedding anniversary, celebrated with wife Anca. Buzz thrives, and even now, both Walt and Buzz teach us, by example.
From such men do we draw inspiration, because they lived fully – no excuses, no handouts, just service, flying, then flying higher. They did dream, but worked for their dreams, both in physics and Ph.D. programs, Walt was born in rural Iowa, Marine, Korea, and was first to fly after Apollo 1 burned, never looking back. Buzz was from Montclair, New Jersey, Gemini 12, Apollo 11, one of the first two moonwalkers.
What many do not know is that these heroes faced their share of adversity, and overcame it. They looked disappointment in the eye, dug deeper, and kept going – set the bar high, to see what they could do.
Walt was flying combat missions before he finished college, married, divorced, and finally happily married to the love of his life, Dot. But life dealt him adversity, and he showed how to manage that.
Selected to the third class of NASA astronauts, along with Buzz, Walt learned two weeks before reporting that his younger brother – Ken, a fighter pilot, age 29 – had been killed flying an F-104, mechanical failure. Walt never faltered, and was the ultimate stoic, strength to others.
Walt’s children played with those of other astronauts. Several astronauts died in training, leading to discussions about dads not coming home. Walt projected confidence, lived it, and that soothed.
Walt wrote: Combat flying is dangerous, so “you either accept the odds or you stay the hell out.” For himself, he loved flying and knew his brother had. When Walt lost friends like Gus Grissom in Apollo’s 1 fire (Walt was on the backup crew), he helped others understand, that pilots know the risks.
In All American Boys, he quotes Gus: “If we die, we want people to accept it. We hope that if anything happens to us it will not delay the program. The conquest of space is worth the risk of life.” Walt adds, “Gus was just expressing what we all felt.”
Speaking with one of my children, Walt once explained further. Asked if he was afraid to fly after Apollo 1’s fire, he said: “No … we knew what we were doing was important, believed what was good for America was good for the world … had crossed that bridge many years earlier.”
Walt’s example went beyond that. Like Buzz, he risked his life for his nation, flew countless missions, night missions in Korea, then Apollo 7. He had 4500 flying hours, 40 aircraft, and 263 hours in space.
When he got back from that “perfect mission,” Apollo 7, October 1968 – the mission’s success lifted NASA and our beleaguered nation, badly shaken by political violence.
Later Walt spoke, wrote, taught, was a risk-taking venture capitalist, ran a radio show, and taught a lesson needed today: Say it like it is, no extra, no spin, excuses, bull, just the truth, period.
Buzz was another American who overcame adversity on behalf of America. He let nothing stop mission success, and never stopped trying. Initially rejected from NASA, he got a PhD in astronautical engineering from MIT, learned the math of orbital rendezvous, reapplied, and got in.
From New Jersey to West Point, missions over Korea, two shootdowns, bombers over Germany with Ed White, another friend who perished, and showing poise in crisis, Buzz flew – arguably saved – Gemini 12, and his resourcefulness and calm helped get Apollo 11 off the moon.
But before those feats, Buzz worked for everything, son of a tough father, a small kid who played center on a NJ state championship football team, a varsity athlete at West Point, he attended chapel, prayed aloud from space, and took presanctified communion on the moon.
As for Korea, his shootdowns were dogfights, F-86 Saber. Gun jamming on the second one, he stayed with it, brought the MIG-15 down, enemy pilot ejected at the last minute. What did he teach? Like Walt, lessons about work, faith, truth, mission focus, no hesitation, unblinking confidence.
On Gemini 12, the docking computer failed, and mission failure was possible. Buzz, who knew orbital rendezvous math, docked it by hand, mission success. On the moon with Neil Armstrong, the ascent engine’s circuit breaker failed, so Buzz innovated; they got off the moon when Buzz used a pen to create a current, which ignited the ascent engine.
Net-net, this is the courage, tenacity, and commitment to winning that built America. These men – Walt and Buzz – were drawn by honor, and thought themselves lucky not gifted, the mark of a hero.
When Walt passed, Buzz wrote: “Without Walt Cunningham, we would not have walked on the moon. Subsequently, we never would have beaten the Soviets and begun the process to end the Cold War. He knew it. I knew it.” And what is that, if not gratitude?
At the first anniversary of Walt’s departure on another mission and Buzz’s wedding anniversary, together with his 94th birthday, we are lifted. God bless them, and America. Gratitude, yet again.
Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, attorney, and naval intelligence officer (USNR). He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (2018), and is National Spokesman for AMAC.
