“We . . . we’re go on that, Flight.” It was nineteen seconds since he had first told Kranz to stand by. Steve Bales, twenty-six years old, with some advice from a twenty-four-year-old, given nineteen seconds to think it over, told Gene Kranz, Chris Kraft, General Phillips, Administrator Paine, President Nixon, and the world—and, not incidentally, Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong—“Ignore the computer and trust me.” “We’re go on that alarm?” Kranz wanted to make absolutely sure. Again Bales stammered. “If . . . if it doesn’t recur, we’ll be go.”
