Modern Mechanix hat einen Artikel über eine Mondlandung von 1964, also von vor der ersten Mondlandung, mit wunderbaren doppelseitigen Illustrationen von Ray Pioch.
LANDING ON THE MOON Faint, steady noises accompany them: the whir of gyros, a tiny hum of inverters converting fuel-cell electricity into alternating current, a hiss of air in the pilot’s spacesuit. Periodically, a pump whines, a valve or relay clucks to itself, a control jet moans. Every few minutes, earth breaks in on the loudspeaker with a message, a query, or a time check—but already earth is only a mildly interesting “they” and the astronauts are “we.”
They cross past the moon’s dark western limb and brake into an orbit girdling the lunar equator. After long minutes of drifting through the darkness beside the moon, cut off from contact with the earth, the spacemen come in sight of the sun again, and shortly cross the terminator— the moon’s sunrise line. The commander and systems manager don their pressure suits and pull themselves into the bug—the LENT ( Lunar Excursion Module)—for good. Finally, in the eightieth hour of their voyage, another countdown begins during which they open the latches on the docking attachment that has clamped the two capsules together. A brief squirt from the bug’s thrusters and the two craft drift apart.
The bug tumbles over to point its engines forward along their flight path. The mains roar terrifyingly for 400 seconds, killing their orbital speed and allowing the moon’s gravity to take hold and start them downward. The craft slows rapidly to a near halt. As they tilt downward, they reduce the thrust until the rocket is roaring gently, and they are sliding along 200 feet above the moon.
Their descent is made as quickly as possible and with a slight forward movement to keep them clear of the dust that begins to fountain up far below from the invisible bite of their rocket’s blast. Moving along, they write the signature of their path with an increasingly denser rooster tail of dust, until, abruptly, some 15 feet above the moon’s surface, they cut their engines and plop into the enveloping dust of the Oceanus Procellarum.