(Reuters) — American astronaut Michael Collins,
who stayed behind in the command module of Apollo 11 on July 20, 1969, while
Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin traveled to the lunar surface to become the
first humans to walk on the moon, died on Wednesday at age 90, his family said.
A statement
released by his family said Collins died of cancer.
Often described as the “forgotten” third astronaut on the
historic mission, Collins remained alone for more than 21 hours until
his two colleagues returned in the lunar module. He lost contact with mission
control in Houston each time the spacecraft circled the dark side of the moon.
“Not since Adam
has any human known such solitude as Mike Collins,” the mission log said,
referring to the biblical figure.
Collins wrote an account of his experiences in his
1974 autobiography, “Carrying the Fire,” but largely shunned publicity.
“I know that I
would be a liar or a fool if I said that I have the best of the three Apollo 11
seats, but I can say with truth and equanimity that I am perfectly satisfied
with the one I have,” Collins said in comments released by NASA in
2009.
Collins was
born in Rome on Oct. 31, 1930 – the same year as both Armstrong and Aldrin. He
was the son of a U.S. Army major general and, like his father, attended the
U.S. Military Academy at West Point, New York, graduating in 1952.
Like many of the
first generation of American astronauts, Collins started out as an
Air Force test pilot.
In 1963, he was
chosen by NASA for its astronaut program, still in its early days but ramping
up quickly at the height of the Cold War as the United States sought to push
ahead of the Soviet Union and fulfill President John F. Kennedy’s pledge of
landing a man on the moon by the end of the decade.
Collins’ first voyage
into space came in July 1966 as pilot on Gemini X, part of the missions that
prepared NASA’s Apollo program. The Gemini X mission carried out a successful
docking with a separate target vehicle.
His second, and final,
spaceflight was the historic Apollo 11.
He avoided much of the media fanfare that greeted the
astronauts on their return to Earth, and was later often critical of the cult
of celebrity.
After
a short stint in government, Collins became director of the National
Air and Space Museum, stepping down in 1978. He was also the author of a number
of space-related books.
His
strongest memory from Apollo 11, he said, was looking back at the Earth, which
he said seemed “fragile.”
“I
really believe that if the political leaders of the world could see their planet
from a distance of 100,000 miles, their outlook could be fundamentally changed.
That all-important border would be invisible, that noisy argument silenced,” he
said.
His
family’s statement said they know “how lucky Mike felt to live the life he
did.”
“Please join us in fondly and joyfully remembering his sharp
wit, his quiet sense of purpose, and his wise perspective, gained both from
looking back at Earth from the vantage of space and gazing across calm waters
from the deck of his fishing boat.”
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