“Inside the lunar lander Challenger, a radio loudspeaker crackled.
Houston: “We’ve got you on television now. We have a good picture.”
Gene Cernan, Apollo 17 commander: “Glad to see old Rover’s still working.”
“Rover,” the moon buggy, sat outside with no one in the driver’s seat, its side-mounted TV camera fixed on Challenger. Back in Houston and around the world, millions watched. The date was Dec. 19, 1972, and history was about to be made.
Suddenly, soundlessly, Challenger split in two. The base of the ship, the part with the landing pads, stayed put. The top, the lunar module with Cernan and Jack Schmitt inside, blasted off in a spray of gold foil. It rose, turned, and headed off to rendezvous with the orbiter America, the craft that would take them home again.
Those were the last men on the Moon. After they were gone, the camera panned back and forth. There was no one there, nothing, only the rover, the lander and some equipment scattered around the dusty floor of the Taurus-Littrow valley. Eventually, Rover’s battery died and the TV transmissions stopped.” …