An important birthday for many reasons

Seeing the Apollo 11 moon landing is one of my most vivid childhood memories.

July 20, 1969, was my sixth birthday. We lived in Iron Gate.

Daddy had moved our portable, 19-inch black-and-white TV to the kitchen table so we would have room for everybody to see it. The TV did not belong on the kitchen table, so my 6-year-old brain knew something was brewing. On the table was a birthday cake with candles, and I knew there were gifts waiting for me somewhere. It was hot outside, and we cooked on a wood stove in our kitchen, which made it unmercifully hot inside the house.

Daddy pulled up a chair next to me at the table. He pointed to the TV and said, "Baby, I want you to always remember this great thing that happened on your birthday." Daddy said it was a great thing, so it had to be; however, that great thing also happened on MY birthday, and that birthday cake was calling my name. After all, I was 6, and my priorities were a little different from everybody else's.

I remember going to a jewelry store in Clifton Forge a few days later, and they had gold key chains with the date and a picture of the astronauts. When the salesman found out July 20 was my birthday, he pulled out one of those key chains and wished me a happy birthday.

It took a while before I truly realized the significance of what happened that day. I remember the first time my husband asked me when my birthday was. I said, "July 20th," and his face lit up. Who would have thought I'd marry a man who was a space freak, and July 20, 1969, is his first childhood memory? He was 3.

Outer Banks crowd was loud and proud

On July 20, 1969, I was 16 years old and vacationing on the Outer Banks of North Carolina with my friend Cathy's family. Life on the Outer Banks in 1969 was very different from today. Vacation cottages on the Outer Banks were sparsely scattered across the islands. Most did not have telephones, television or air conditioning. News from the outside world came from the radio, which was played constantly so that we could hear music by the Beatles.

That night, Cathy's mother drove us a few miles down the road to the Wright Memorial so that we could witness the first landing on the moon. We climbed to the top of the hill where the tall monument loomed above us and there were several large televisions outside at its base.

Hundreds of people scrambled for a view of the screens. We looked up at the large moon in the clear, star-filled sky and watched it up close on the TV screens. The sky was so clear that with the naked eye we could see shadows of craters in the moon. I strained to see if I could see a hint of what was on the black-and-white television in the night sky.

I remember having chills from the glow of too much sun that day, but nothing could compare to the chills we felt when Neil Armstrong stepped down on the moon. The crowd around the Wright Memorial jumped up, clapped and cheered so loudly that I wondered if Armstrong could hear us. The celebration continued when Buzz Aldrin joined him and planted the American flag.

Americans had just begun to fly 66 years earlier on the ground on which I was standing. I felt immensely proud to be an American that day.

A terminal hushed around the TV

Boy, do I remember! I was 17 years old and en route from Atlanta, Ga., to Muscle Shoals, Ala. I was in an extremely small commuter plane, which we called "creek hoppers." I had just competed in the Southern Zone Trapshoot representing the state of Alabama and had just gotten a very thorough "whupping."

As I was licking my wounds, the pilot came over the intercom and stated they were going to broadcast the event over the plane via speakers the size of the bottom of a Dixie cup. A baby monitor provides a surround sound quality compared to those speakers. The thought entered my mind: "Here we are getting ready to walk on the moon, and I am praying this toy airplane will get me home before crashing in a cotton patch!"

When the plane landed, the Eagle had just touched down. I ran to the terminal with everyone else, and my mother was waiting for me. Everyone was crowded around a black-and-white TV the size of a bread box. As he made the last step, you could hear a pin drop. I believe everyone thought he would either sink and disappear or an alien would jump out from behind a rock and grab him.

As I reflect back, I can remember how proud and united our nation was at this time. Today, many people think money spent on space exploration is a waste. I believe that man's quest to explore the unknown will never cease and we might as well budget for it.

In closing, I remember my mom's excitement, and I must say thank you to NASA and Neil for some wonderful memories.

An inspiration to one far from home

On July 20, 1969, I was a 19-year-old seaman serving aboard the USS Garrett County (LST-786) in the Mekong Delta of South Vietnam. The Garrett County was part of Operation Game Warden and was the base for two helicopter gunships and a squadron of river patrol boats. At the time of the landing, I was scrubbing the bulkhead of the bridge while listening to Armed Forces Radio on my transistor.

Armed Forces Radio was about our only contact with "The World" back then, and most of the news we received was delayed and limited. So, receiving the static-filled transmission from the moon in real time was amazing in more ways than one.

I had volunteered for in-country duty because I felt it was the right thing to do at the time. For that reason it was inspiring to know that other Americans were also serving in a hostile place so much farther from home.

A special slumber party at camp

That summer I was working at Cedars Baptist Camp as a camp counselor. This camp was located about eight miles outside of Marion.

The camp was made up of five cabins, 24 kids (all girls) to a cabin with two counselors per cabin. There were no TVs, no telephones and no radios. Thank goodness those were the days before cellphones.

Luckily, our camp director recognized what a historic event this was to be. So she went to town and rented a TV for all of us to watch. At the appointed time, all of us, clad in pajamas and clutching pillows and blankets, made our way to the arts and craft building where the TV had been set up. It was one gigantic slumber party as we all witnessed this special moment.

I remember wondering afterward if the moon was going to look any different, since it had been disturbed by all of those footprints.

However, I was reassured when I next saw the moon. The "Man in the Moon" was still up there looking down on me.

News made this Marine's day

As Neil Armstrong took his first steps on the lunar surface, it was 10:56 p.m. July 20, 1969, in Roanoke. That was 9:56 p.m. CDT in my birthplace of Fergus Falls, Minn., with millions of people worldwide glued to televisions or radios.

As a noncommissioned officer in the U. S. Marine Corps nearing the end of the 11th month of my 13-month tour of duty, I was one of those people. Our unit was at "Rocket City" about 10 miles north of Da Nang, then in the Republic of South Vietnam.

Through the miracle of modern technology with the Armed Forces Network and a small black-and-white television, about a dozen of us were able to catch the snowy vision of this momentous event. As I recall, it was late morning on a sunny, hot day near the coast of the South China Sea when cheers erupted as we saw and heard the news of "our man on the moon."

We, the United States of America, had beaten the Soviets to land on the moon. Win one for the USA! It was still the "Cold War" outside of our "hot" war in sunny Southeast Asia.

Along with the pride of serving in the "Marine green machine" and winning the battles we fought, we now also had pride in our red, white and blue as she was planted on that silver orb silently above our intermittent hell on earth.

Priorities were different at this bar

Late June 1969, my fiance, Bill Elliot, from Roanoke and I from Indianapolis, very recent college grads, responded to an SOS from his father when his crew member jumped ship somewhere in New Jersey.

My future father-in-law and former World War II naval officer Davis H. Elliot was living out a long-time dream of sailing his own boat from Norfolk to Maine and back. The Felicity was to be our home for the next several weeks.

Late July and the day of the great moon landing arrived. Anchored out in the Cape Anne Canal, Gloucester, Mass., Bill and I were determined to witness this very momentous occasion. How to find a TV in an unknown town?

We rowed the dinghy ashore and hailed a taxi. "Take us to the closest bar with a color television so we can watch the moon landing," directed Bill. The driver deposited us at what must have been the noisiest bar in Gloucester. We found two seats at the bar just feet from the small TV wedged in between bottles of Jack and gin. Eating our bar dinner, we seemed to be the only ones paying attention to the event unfolding on the screen.

In an instant, the ear-splitting bar conviviality dropped into complete, pin-dropping silence for about one minute as all crowded around the small box and watched Neil Armstrong take one small step for a man and one giant leap for mankind.

Just as suddenly, the raucous din revved up again as if nothing had happened. Bill and I, still watching every last minute of the coverage, sat amazed at the magnitude of the moon-landing feat contrasted with the partying priority of those surrounding us in the Earth bar.

Moon landing later landed me here

My family was on vacation. We were driving from Lafayette, La., to Stamford, Conn., to visit some of my mother's relatives. I had just turned 13.

Dad found a motel in what I believe was near the highway 419-Interstate 81 intersection before I-81 was built. We watched the landing from the motel, and Dad took a picture off of the television. I still have the slide.

We had arrived in time to explore a little, and the sheer beauty of the area impressed me to the point that I told my father I would like to live here.

In July of 1987 I was asked if I wanted to transfer to Roanoke. I jumped on it and moved here that August, raised a family and still live here today.

Right after the request to move, I called my father, and he remembered our conversation about moving here.

Had we not stopped to watch the moon landing, I may never have discovered the Roanoke Valley.

I remember it well!

During the moon landing, as a member of the Manned Space Flight Network, I was an engineer working at the Apollo Tracking Station near Madrid, Spain. It was late at night and we were all pretty intent on the operation of the equipment — too much to notice the historic significance of the event at that moment in time.

The station, DSIF-61, located outside of Madrid near the town of Robledo De Chavela, was the active station at the moment of touchdown on the moon. I was operating the tracking data processor, antenna position programmer, as well as the timing system during touchdown. At the moment of touchdown on the moon, I was monitoring the data processor printer and noted that exact moment. Technically, this was when the Doppler signal from the spacecraft became the same as that of the moon (6 hz). Moments later, to everyone’s relief, it was stated on the intercom that we had landed. There was no shouting or hurrahing, but more a common sigh of relief.

I was employed as a member of the huge team that manned the many tracking stations that provided communications between Houston Manned Space Flight Center, Goddard Space Center and the Apollo spacecraft. We all worked very hard to make this work, and the significance of it all really didn’t sink in till sometime later.

Proud of dad’s part in space history

Our father was employed at NASA during the Apollo missions. He was a member of the seven-man launch team, responsible for the first stage of the rocket, which lifted the spacecraft from Earth and propelled it through the atmosphere.

During the weeks prior to the launch, the rocket was moved from the Vehicle Assembly Building, the largest building in the world, to the launchpad, a sweltering, hulking metal bomb, waiting for the astronauts to board.

The Apollo 11 launch was the biggest event of that era and every VIP in America was at the Kennedy Space Center to view the launch. Therefore, very few family members of workers were allowed to see it, so we had to watch on TV like everyone else. Once the rocket blasted off, we ran to the front yard to watch it soar into the air.

At this point, our father’s part was complete and everything was turned over to Mission Control in Houston. After working days and nights for weeks, we all looked forward to dad’s much-needed vacation.

While the rocket flew to the moon, we drove to Roanoke to our grandmother’s house. As Apollo 11 orbited the moon, the astronauts descended to the moon’s surface on the Lunar Excursion Module, and we gathered around grandma’s black-and-white TV. We were quiet as mice eagerly awaiting the touchdown of the LEM. When the surface of the moon came into view, grandma spoke up saying, “That’s not the moon, this is a put-on.” She never did believe man went to the moon, much less that her son had a part in putting him there.

We are forever proud of dad and his part in history.

A birthday she’ll never forget

Seeing the Apollo 11 moon landing is one of my most vivid childhood memories.

July 20, 1969, was my sixth birthday. We lived in Iron Gate.

Daddy had moved our portable, 19-inch black-and-white TV to the kitchen table so we would have room for everybody to see it. The TV did not belong on the kitchen table, so my 6-year-old brain knew something was brewing. On the table was a birthday cake with candles, and I knew there were gifts waiting for me somewhere. It was hot outside, and we cooked on a wood stove in our kitchen, which made it unmercifully hot inside the house.

Daddy pulled up a chair next to me at the table. He pointed to the TV and said, “Baby, I want you to always remember this great thing that happened on your birthday.” Daddy said it was a great thing, so it had to be; however, that great thing also happened on MY birthday, and that birthday cake was calling my name. After all, I was 6, and my priorities were a little different from everybody else’s.

I remember going to a jewelry store in Clifton Forge a few days later, and they had gold key chains with the date and a picture of the astronauts. When the salesman found out July 20 was my birthday, he pulled out one of those key chains and wished me a happy birthday.

It took a while before I truly realized the significance of what happened that day. I remember the first time my husband asked me when my birthday was. I said, “July 20th,” and his face lit up. Who would have thought I’d marry a man who was a space freak, and July 20, 1969, is his first childhood memory? He was 3.

Outer Banks crowd was loud and proud

On July 20, 1969, I was 16 years old and vacationing on the Outer Banks of North Carolina with my friend Cathy’s family. Life on the Outer Banks in 1969 was very different from today. Vacation cottages on the Outer Banks were sparsely scattered across the islands. Most did not have telephones, television or air conditioning. News from the outside world came from the radio which was played constantly so that we could hear music by the Beatles.

That night, Cathy’s mother drove us a few miles down the road to the Wright Memorial so that we could witness the first landing on the moon. We climbed to the top of the hill where the tall monument loomed above us and there were several large televisions outside at its base.

Hundreds of people scrambled for a view of the screens. We looked up at the large moon in the clear, star-filled sky and watched it up close on the TV screens. The sky was so clear that with the naked eye we could see shadows of craters in the moon. I strained to see if I could see a hint of what was on the black-and-white television in the night sky.

I remember having chills from the glow of too much sun that day, but nothing could compare to the chills we felt when Neil Armstrong stepped down on the moon. The crowd around the Wright Memorial jumped up, clapped and cheered so loudly that I wondered if Armstrong could hear us. The celebration continued when Buzz Aldrin joined him and planted the American flag.

Americans had just begun to fly 66 years earlier on the ground on which I was standing. I felt immensely proud to be an American that day.

A terminal hushed around the TV

Boy, do I remember! I was 17 years old and en route from Atlanta, Ga., to Muscle Shoals, Ala. I was in an extremely small commuter plane, which we called “creek hoppers.” I had just competed in the Southern Zone Trapshoot representing the state of Alabama and had just gotten a very thorough “whupping.”

As I was licking my wounds, the pilot came over the intercom and stated they were going to broadcast the event over the plane via speakers the size of the bottom of a Dixie cup. A baby monitor provides a surround sound quality compared to those speakers. The thought entered my mind: “Here we are getting ready to walk on the moon, and I am praying this toy airplane will get me home before crashing in a cotton patch!”

When the plane landed, the Eagle had just touched down. I ran to the terminal with everyone else, and my mother was waiting for me. Everyone was crowded around a black-and-white TV the size of a bread box. As he made the last step, you could hear a pin drop. I believe everyone thought he would either sink and disappear or an alien would jump out from behind a rock and grab him.

As I reflect back, I can remember how proud and united our nation was at this time. Today, many people think money spent on space exploration is a waste. I believe that man’s quest to explore the unknown will never cease and we might as well budget for it.

In closing, I remember my mom’s excitement, and I must say thank you to NASA and Neil for some wonderful memories.

An inspiration to one far from home

On July 20, 1969, I was a 19-year-old seaman serving aboard the USS Garrett County (LST-786) in the Mekong Delta of South Vietnam. The Garrett County was part of Operation Game Warden and was the base for two helicopter gunships and a squadron of river patrol boats. At the time of the landing, I was scrubbing the bulkhead of the bridge while listening to Armed Forces Radio on my transistor.

Armed Forces Radio was about our only contact with “The World” back then, and most of the news we received was delayed and limited. So, receiving the static-filled transmission from the moon in real time was amazing in more ways than one.

I had volunteered for in-country duty because I felt it was the right thing to do at the time. For that reason it was inspiring to know that other Americans were also serving in a hostile place so much farther from home.

A special slumber party at camp

That summer I was working at Cedars Baptist Camp as a camp counselor. This camp was located about eight miles outside of Marion.

The camp was made up of five cabins, 24 kids (all girls) to a cabin with two counselors per cabin. There were no TVs, no telephones and no radios. Thank goodness those were the days before cellphones.

Luckily, our camp director recognized what a historic event this was to be. So she went to town and rented a TV for all of us to watch. At the appointed time, all of us, clad in pajamas and clutching pillows and blankets, made our way to the arts and craft building where the TV had been set up. It was one gigantic slumber party as we all witnessed this special moment.

I remember wondering afterward if the moon was going to look any different, since it had been disturbed by all of those footprints.

However, I was reassured when I next saw the moon. The “Man in the Moon” was still up there looking down on me.

News made this Marine’s day

As Neil Armstrong took his first steps on the lunar surface, it was 10:56 p.m. July 20, 1969, in Roanoke. That was 9:56 p.m. CDT in my birthplace of Fergus Falls, Minn., with millions of people worldwide glued to televisions or radios.

As a noncommissioned officer in the U. S. Marine Corps nearing the end of the 11th month of my 13-month tour of duty, I was one of those people. Our unit was at “Rocket City” about 10 miles north of Da Nang, then in the Republic of South Vietnam. That’s about 9,000 miles away from my native Minnesota or adopted home of Virginia with about 13 hours and one added day difference in time.

Through the miracle of modern technology with the Armed Forces Network and a small black-and-white television, about a dozen of us were able to catch the snowy vision of this momentous event. As I recall, it was late morning on a sunny, hot day near the coast of the South China Sea when cheers erupted as we saw and heard the news of “our man on the moon.”

We, the United States of America, had beaten the Soviets to land on the moon. Win one for the USA! It was still the “Cold War” outside of our “hot” war in sunny Southeast Asia.

Along with the pride of serving in the “Marine green machine” and winning the battles we fought, we now also had pride in our red, white and blue as she was planted on that silver orb silently above our intermittent hell on earth. It’s the same peaceful orb to all on earth.

Priorities were different at this bar

Late June 1969, my fiance, Bill Elliot, from Roanoke and I from Indianapolis, very recent college grads, responded to an SOS from his father when his crew member jumped ship somewhere in New Jersey.

My future father-in-law and former World War II naval officer Davis H. Elliot was living out a long-time dream of sailing his own boat from Norfolk to Maine and back. The Felicity was to be our home for the next several weeks.

Late July and the day of the great moon landing arrived. Anchored out in the Cape Anne Canal, Gloucester, Mass., Bill and I were determined to witness this very momentous occasion. How to find a TV in an unknown town?

We rowed the dinghy ashore and hailed a taxi. “Take us to the closest bar with a color television so we can watch the moon landing,” directed Bill. The driver deposited us at what must have been the noisiest bar in Gloucester. We found two seats at the bar just feet from the small TV wedged in between bottles of Jack and gin. Eating our bar dinner, we seemed to be the only ones paying attention to the event unfolding on the screen.

In an instant, the ear-splitting bar conviviality dropped into complete, pin-dropping silence for about one minute as all crowded around the small box and watched Neil Armstrong take one small step for a man and one giant leap for mankind.

Just as suddenly, the raucous din revved up again as if nothing had happened. Bill and I, still watching every last minute of the coverage, sat amazed at the magnitude of the moon-landing feat contrasted with the partying priority of those surrounding us in the Earth bar.I have never forgotten a moment of this science fiction come true, young twenty-somethings with our whole life ahead of us. Now, not just the world but the universe was our oyster.

Moon landing later landed me here

My family was on vacation. We were driving from Lafayette, La., to Stamford, Conn., to visit some of my mother’s relatives. I had just turned 13.

Dad found a motel in what I believe was near the highway 419-Interstate 81 intersection before I-81 was built. We watched the landing from the motel, and dad took a picture off of the television. I still have the slide.

We had arrived in time to explore a little, and the sheer beauty of the area impressed me to the point that I told my father I would like to live here.

In July of 1987 I was asked if I wanted to transfer to Roanoke. I jumped on it and moved here that August, raised a family and still live here today.

Right after the request to move, I called my father, and he remembered our conversation about moving here.

Had we not stopped to watch the moon landing, I may never have discovered the Roanoke Valley.

Proud to be an American in Greece

On July 20, 1969, I was sitting with other members of the Penn State Concert Choir on a rooftop restaurant in Delphi, Greece. It was later in the evening and the full moon above us looked close enough to touch. We were listening intently to a short wave radio picking up the Armed Forces radio station in Europe. As we heard the official news that the United States of America had landed on the moon, there was a roar that came from several other rooftops and a crowd of townspeople came to our hotel and encouraged us to come celebrate this great triumph of mankind.

Many of the people were dressed in ceremonial dress and it seemed like every adult had a bottle of wine or Ouzo (a traditional Greek liqueur that tastes like licorice) to share. I still have a bottle of Ouzo that was given to me that evening — it is empty of course! That night the townspeople of Delphi, along with our 62 members of the concert choir, celebrated by singing songs and dancing in the streets until early in the morning.

For us in Greece it was a spontaneous celebration of mankind’s landing on the moon, and we learned afterward there were similar celebrations all over the world. This was a time when Americans were honored in many lands.

As we continued our U.S. State Department Choir Tour, we traveled to Yugoslavia, Italy, Germany, Austria and Switzerland and at each stop we were congratulated for such an amazing accomplishment — putting a man on the MOON!

An awesome feat, but the draft awaited

I can remember where I was on July 20, 1969. I had only graduated from high school a little over a month before. I had decided to go swimming with some friends at Fairy Stone State Park that Sunday morning. Since I was 18 years old I was not thinking anything about a moon landing, I was worried about the draft. I had just received my card, I was ready to join the service but I was worried about Vietnam.

So I was enjoying a Sunday at the lake when the radio just interrupted the music and came on and said, “Man has just [landed] on the moon.”  I can remember thinking what an awesome feat, but I was thinking more of what was to becoming in the following weeks.

Good night for this man, a giant leap for mankind

I remember the night quite well. I was watching my grainy black and white TV with a gorgeous blond nestled in the crook of my arm. We were struck with the enormity of that event. While watching Neil and Buzz that night, I realized that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I didn’t propose to her that night, but I knew then that I would. It has been a life of incalculable moments of breathless wonder for us since that night when we knew that anything was possible and our lives had much in store for us. What a night to be an American!

Moon landing? I want to go to the movies!

President Kennedy’s goal of landing a person on the moon and returning him safely before the end of the decade was surely about to be realized. And it was still almost 18 months until his famous deadline! As Apollo 11 descended towards the lunar surface, I, true to being a contrary teenager, was not watching the television coverage, but instead was on a ferry crossing Puget Sound on my way to visit my big sister who lived in Seattle. For my birthday present, she was taking me to the Cinerama Theater to see the movie, “2001: A Space Odyssey.” I was turning 14.

As the movie ended, Armstrong’s and Aldrin’s moon walks also ended. We walked through the lobby and passed a television replaying the day’s events, leaving no doubt about the landing’s success. Outside the theater, a crowd of movie patrons was looking at the first quarter moon hanging low in the southwestern sky above the Olympic Mountains. Jupiter, the space mission’s destination in the movie’s story line, was shining to the moon’s right. I remember thinking, “1969: A Moon Odyssey.” It was a good birthday.

Memories live on in scrapbook

I was 9 when Apollo 11 delivered three people to walk around on the surface of the moon. I thought it was a really big deal. With the encouragement of my scrapbook-loving mother, I collected all the newspaper and magazine articles that came to our house, and pasted them into a scrapbook with a padded, embossed, leather-like cover and bound with gold string. It was the only scrapbook I ever made about a news event.

My most enduring memories are of the images on TV, and the sound of the voices direct from the moon. Neither images nor sounds were very clear, but it amazed me that we could watch and listen to what was happening so far away, without waiting for the spaceship to bring back the photographs. I can still remember vividly the voices of the astronauts as they reported on each maneuver: “Houston,” the astronauts would call, and “Roger,” the folks at Mission Control would respond.

I think I was most impressed, not by the fact that humans made it to the moon, but that, amidst the hugeness of space, we could pick a spot on the moon so far away, land on that spot, then return to earth, and splash down into the vast ocean where the ships were waiting for them. It seemed an extraordinary feat to hit such small targets.

Although I can’t remember very well what went through my head, I know one thing I did not think: that I would tell my own kids about the times people went to the moon, and that it would be an amazing thing to them, too. I assumed, as a child, that once people started going to the moon it would soon become a commonplace thing, like flying in an airplane.

View to the liftoff

I was 17 years old at the time and had never really paid much attention to the space program. But this mission was different!

We had just moved to Daytona Beach, Fla., in May of 1969. Daytona is roughly 60 miles north of Cape Canaveral. I wasn’t even aware that the Apollo mission was going up that day, I just happened to be on the beach at liftoff time.

I noticed that there were more people on the beach than usual and most of them were looking southward up at the sky, shielding their eyes from the sun I asked what was going on and was made aware of the Apollo 11 liftoff.

As we all kept looking in that direction, finally I saw it! A giant sparkler being lifted toward the sky!

Afterward, having actually seen the rocket go up, I was very intrigued by the whole mission. I watched everything about it on our small black and white “table-top” television.

I still have some newspapers and magazines which have since yellowed from age.

I can’t say that this experience actually inspired me in life, but I have followed the space program more closely since those summer days of 1969 and have had the opportunity to see a couple more liftoffs in the interim.

Watching with my son was special ...

On July 20, 1969 I was sitting in my living room holding my nine-month old son in my arms. I knew the baby was too young to understand the importance of the events happening. It did not stop me from talking to him and telling him all the exciting things that were unfolding before my eyes.

It was the most exciting experience to be able to watch on TV Apollo 11 land on the moon and Neil Armstrong step off the lunar module. As my son grew into a fine young man, times when we would discuss history, I would remind him of the Apollo 11 landing on the moon. He grew up knowing he lived in a great country, and he would be able to achieve any goals he set for himself. He could fly to the moon someday!

For myself, I would always to this day look at the moon as a very special planet. What do you think, will America land and walk on the moon again? I will keep watching to see if history can repeat itself. Isn’t it wonderful to be an American!

... so was watching with my daughter

Our first child, Rebecca, was eight days old. We had gotten home from the hospital just a day or two before the “big event.” (Yes, back then you actually got to recuperate before you went home to “try your hand” at parenting!) I was sitting in our bedroom, cradling our newborn and watching the TV. I would glance out the window at the moon, and then at the TV screen (black and white) as Neil Armstrong was stepping onto the lunar surface.

I knew that Becky couldn’t understand a word I was saying as I was marveling at the accomplishments of the space program. What a thrill of a lifetime. To see history in the making.

Proud as punch in Piccadilly

My sister was six years old, I was 10. My father was an English teacher and loved to travel during summer break, especially over the big pond to England.

Mom would spend weeks, it seemed, packing our large pale blue matching luggage with color-coordinated outfits for the family for each day of our trip. We were ready to see the world!

That particular summer in 1969 we stayed in a very old ornate hotel in Piccadilly Circus in London. It was a fun, bustling hotel with large plush furniture and a small black and white TV in a room adjacent to the lobby. On that particular day the TV room was filled with people, wall to wall, all staring at this small set.

My father gently led my sister and I in a corner amongst the crowd. There it was, the moon and Old Glory, our beautiful American Flag! The crowd burst into cheers when Neil Armstrong spoke and the applause was unending. I will never forgot the look of utter pride and emotion on my dear fathers face, what a moment!

God Bless America!

‘Crazy Americans’ did it again

When the moon landing took place, I was the commander of the U.S. Army Europe command maintenance management inspection team. We were aware that the moon landing would be covered on German TV. The team and I — 18 soldiers ranging from major to sergeant — were in Würzburg, Germany that morning. I had selected an explosive ordnance detachment to inspect. It was a small unit and we knew we would be able to inspect it and be back at the gasthaus we were staying in by early afternoon. A German gasthaus has a restaurant, bar and a number of rooms.

The owner had provided us with his party room which was equipped with a medium sized TV. Most of us ordered sandwiches and beer to watch the show. When Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon, the owner came into the room with a large tray of shot glasses filled with Asbach Uralt cognac. He placed a glass in front of each of us, lifted his glass, said “Prost” — German for “cheers” — and “you crazy Americans have done it again!” We all returned the toast and had the cognac. I doubt if any of us has forgotten that afternoon to this day.

Vietnam, the moon and other foreign places

While the astronauts were on the moon I was in MARS, they were in another world and I was in a world unlike any I had ever experienced as well.

On July 20, 1969, I was an armored cavalry platoon leader, D Troop 17th Cavalry, 199 Light Infantry Brigade, Vietnam, well out of touch with the rest of the world. With a rare break from being in the boonies, I was at our main base and in the Military Amateur Radio System (MARS) office. MARS was a network of volunteer shortwave radio operators coordinated by the military to allow calls home, the only way we could call in 1969. I had no idea that the NASA moon shot had taken place. The moon shots with which I was familiar while living with a bunch of guys had nothing to do with NASA.

Awaiting my turn for the operators to connect a network of radios for my first call home, simply a coincidence, there was a TV broadcasting the moon walk. Surreal. Unreal. More strangeness for what for me was already a strange time and place. Hard to reconcile a life in a combat zone, as far away as I could be from Virginia, family and “normal” life, with people walking and talking on the moon.

Within days I was back in the boonies with responsibilities and activities that pushed the moon walk out of mind as though merely a dream, its significance and uniqueness buried in the urgency and intensity of that time and place for me. Yet because of that strangeness, I remember it clearly today.

When in Rome, we watched the moon landing

In July, 1969 I went on a whirlwind nine-country, three-week tour of Europe. On July 20, we were in Rome, Italy when we learned of the moon landing. I went down to the hotel bar to watch the coverage but saw only a black and white, grainy picture. It was very difficult to make out details. I was anxious to find out as much as I could about the landing. However, every time an American spoke, the audio was changed to Italian. It was very frustrating. The next day I saw some newspaper photos, but again, the stories were in Italian. Nevertheless, we were all thrilled at the success of the moon landing.

In the next few days we traveled to Switzerland and learned how this had affected people around the world. While walking along the banks of Lake Lucerne, we were approached by some Italian tourists. Recognizing us as Americans and speaking in English, they told us how excited they were about the moon landing. They said we must be very proud of our astronauts, and we certainly were. This was only the first of several such encounters and they were all the same in the enthusiasm of people in other countries for this achievement.

It was only after returning home that I was able to see photos and hear details of the moon landing. Through the years I have followed the successes, and failures, of the space program. Each successful flight is one to be proud of and thankful for, but I will always remember that first moon landing as I got to see it from a foreign perspective.

Ready to shoot the moon

July 20, 1969, Anderson, Indiana: I was on the cusp of many things. I had graduated from high school in the top of my class and had been accepted to the small liberal arts college my parents could barely afford. This meant I did not have to line up the coming Monday to ask for a job at the local General Motors plant like 50 percent of my graduating class. I was getting away from my parents finally.

I had worked all that day as a cashier in a local supermarket and I was bushed. When I went home, I found a note to go across the street to the neighbors to watch the moon landing. At Russell and Ruth’s was a color TV and the central air we didn’t have. I lay on the floor watching.

I watched the moon landing. I was curiously proud. Even though, I did not know that America and I were on such a big cusp together. Later just as the glow of accomplishment of conquering the moon faded, so did my academic accomplishments. As America struggled through the protests of the Vietnam war, racial unrest and the like, I struggled through trying to find out who I was.

The end of the story: It is 40 years later. America has changed, but it is still America and it will be fine — it wants to go back to the moon! I am retired at 58, overeducated, and over my personal trials. This country and I grew up together through our own bad times since then. We have survived and prospered. We have been tempered through the heat of our own fires. God Bless us all, Neil Armstrong.

The view from Italy

I remember it well. It was July 20, 1969. I was a young Army wife living with my husband at a small Army post in Vicenza, a lovely town in Italy.

As we so often did, we took the train over to Venice, about 40 minutes from where we lived. When we arrived at the train station, we walked outside and took the boat down to St. Mark’s Square. We noticed a crowd standing in front of a shop window looking at a TV. We suddenly realized the Apollo 11 had landed on the moon.

I remember how proud we were to be Americans — especially that beautiful sunny day in Italy.

Moon shot overshadowed by real shooting

I was in Oklahoma that sweltering summer in 1969. It was over 100 degrees 36 days in a row and did not rain for 35. I was not visiting family but was working for Uncle Sam in the U.S. Army at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. Then, the two wars were Vietnam and the Cold War space race.

The night of July 20th was both hot and very clear. I was on guard duty that night. My time was divided between looking up at the very visible moon and in the guard shack watching the small black and white television showing the hazy, live pictures of the moon walk.

After the Apollo 11 spacecraft returned to earth, I gave little thought to the space race and concentrated on the other war. Forty years later, Vietnam for most takes a back seat to Apollo 11’s success.

Worth staying up for

Pam Martin Higginbotham, Newport, Va., was 6 years old when the landing on the moon occurred. I’m not sure of the hour, but Pam was sleepy and wanted to go to bed, but her mother and father would not let her go.

“It will happen in a few minutes, so just wait, this will be an important date in your life.”

She waited on the floor in front of our old black and white console TV and now is glad she did. Her brother, Donnie Martin, age 21, watched the landing on a plane over the Atlantic Ocean on a DeMolay [youth organization] trip to Europe.

When they read about the event in the newspaper, they can say, “I watched that on TV” and their grandchildren will be proud to say, “My grandparents and great-grandparents watched the Apollo 11 crew as they touched down on the moon in 1969.”

Something rowdy in Denmark

In July 1969, I was a Cadet at the U.S. Coast Guard Academy. We were on a training, cruise and stopped in Copenhagen, Denmark for several days of shore liberty, in uniform, of course. As the time of the moon landing approached, shopkeepers placed televisions in their storefronts and multitudes of Danes crowded around to watch Neil Armstrong take his one small step for a man.

They were very excited, as if Denmark had put the first men on the moon along with America and dozens of them shook my hand or patted me on the back in congratulation (at that time, every Dane under the age of 50 spoke fluent, if British-accented, English).

The Danes seemed almost to be prouder of this accomplishment than we Americans. One fellow, quite drunk, shook my hand about six separate times and, to this day, I don’t know if he thought I was one or six different American Coast Guardsmen!