Eugene Cernan with Don Davis

St. Martin’s Press, $24.95

On July 20, 1999, Americans celebrated the 30th anniversary of astronaut Neil Armstrong’s "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind," when he became the first human to set foot on the surface of the Moon. If you were alive and sentient at that historic moment, you probably remember exactly where you were, whom you were with, maybe even what you had for breakfast.
 
On December 13, 1972, just three and a half years after Armstrong’s landing, the last man on the Moon climbed aboard the lunar module to prepare for the return trip to Earth. Knowing that Apollo 17 would be the last flight in the program, he had struggled with the choice of words to mark his visit, "As I take these last steps from the surface for some time to come, I’d just like to record that America’s challenge of today has forged man’s destiny of tomorrow." 
 
That man was Eugene Cernan, the last of a select group of only 12 American men to walk on the Moon. In the memoir he has written with Gunbarrel author Don Davis, Cernan tells a remarkable story of what it was like to be a pioneer in the exploration of space. Like the Moon itself, that story has both bright and dark sides.
 
Cernan proved he had "the right stuff" when the third round of astronauts was chosen by NASA for the Gemini program. He joined a "hypercompetitive fraternity, [in which you could] never, never, never exhibit a shred of self-doubt." 
 
It is not surprising then that many of the men who vied for positions on the crews of the Gemini and Apollo missions had astronomical egos. If Cernan struts his stuff with considerable swagger at times, which he does, it explains how he accomplished what he did.
 
Cernan is particularly proud of his accomplishments as a pilot, and he writes candidly of the NASA pilot-astronauts’ resentments as more scientist-astronauts were recruited. Although he eventually concedes that the scientists were valuable, his point concerning the crucial need for top-notch piloting skills is well taken. 
 
The race to the Moon was not made in baby steps, but rather by giant leaps in experimental design and technology. Even with vigorous training and preparation, astronauts were often confronted with unanticipated problems, which needed considerable experience and quick thinking to resolve.
 
Cernan’s work created strains on his family. As an astronaut’s wife in the 1960’s, Cernan’s first wife Barbara had a very different role than spouses today. "If you think going to the Moon is hard," she once quipped to a reporter, "try staying home." Being "Mrs. Astronaut" meant living and raising your children alone most of the time, agonizing over your husband’s safety and "putting your own ego on the shelf while the world worships your man." 
 
One of his most poignant and revealing anecdotes describes his desire to impress upon his daughter Tracy, then six, the significance of his accomplishments in space. Her response was, "Daddy, now that you’ve gone to the Moon, when are you going to take me camping . . . like you promised?" It was a humbling moment.
 
Still, Cernan’s quest for the Moon was an obsession that drove him, and he worked hard to earn his assignments. On Gemini 9 he became the first man to spacewalk around the world, and on Apollo 10, he piloted the lunar module. Commanding Apollo 17 was his ticket to the long-coveted moonwalk. 
 
Along the way, he saw fellow astronauts die in tragic accidents and witnessed some near misses. Although his descriptions of those incidents are no less harrowing, he retained a sort of fearlessness that kept him focused on his goal.

Don Davis has helped Cernan tell his story in an organized yet exciting way. Cernan’s distinctive voice is at the heart of the narrative, which is peppered with the kind of colorful language that got him into some trouble after Apollo 10. According to Cernan, it’s hard to keep your expressions tasteful when things are getting pretty hairy in the cockpit. But there is also a true reverence for the wonders that he, along with few others, has seen. 
 
 "There is no end," he observes. "It is just too perfect and beautiful to have happened by accident. I can’t tell you how or why it exists in this special way, only that it does, and I know for certain because I have been out there and I have seen the endlessness of space and time with my own eyes." 
 
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