WE leave as we came and, God willing, we shall return with peace and hope for all mankind." As he uttered those hopeful and heartfelt words, Apollo 17's commander, Gene Cernan, stepped from the surface of the moon and clambered up the ladder of lunar module Challenger. Cernan's departure may not be remembered as long as Neil Armstrong's historic arrival three years ago. Nonetheless it was a profound and moving moment that was put in perspective by a presidential pronouncement: "This may be the last time in this century," said Richard Nixon, "that men will walk on the moon."
Next day millions of TV viewers on earth watched as Challenger, in a dramatic pyrotechnic display, lifted off from the moon's mountain-rimmed Taurus-Littrow valley. Two hours later, Cernan and Astronaut-Geologist Jack Schmitt reunited with Ron Evans, who was whirling overhead in America. Then, after two more days of observing the moon from the orbiting command ship, the astronauts fired themselves out of lunar orbit and began the three-day journey home. By week's end, the final U.S. expedition to the moon was headed for its scheduled splashdown this week in the South Pacific, 400 miles south of Samoa.
In terms of its scientific payoff, the last Apollo mission will probably turn out to be the best. During their record 22 hours outside their moonship, Cernan and Schmitt collected some 250 lbs. of lunar rocks, more than any of the ten moonwalkers before them. They set up the moon's fifth scientific station and drove their battery-powered rover across 22.5 miles of the cratered valley. They took more than 2,000 photographs, and turned up what may well be the first positive evidence of relatively recent volcanic activity on the moon. Said Schmitt, the first scientist to walk the moon: "This valley has seen mankind complete his first evolutionary steps in the universe. I think no more significant contribution has Apollo made to history."
Stark. Emerging from Challenger after its almost perfect landing only about 300 ft. from target near the Crater Camelot,* Geologist Schmitt made it clear that he regarded the stark, rock-littered valley as his special turf. "A geologist's paradise, if I've ever seen one," said the Harvard-trained scientist as he and Cernan began their preliminary chores: familiarizing themselves with the terrain, photographing the area and, finally, maneuvering the rover out of its berth in the side of the lunar module. Then, after a fast test spin by Cernan ("Hallelujah, Houston, Challenger's baby is on the road"), the moon car was positioned so that the remote-controlled color television camera mounted on the front end of the vehicle could begin sending the first pictures back to earth.