On July 16, 1969, Armstrong, along with Edwin E. Aldrin, Jr., and Michael Collins, blasted off in the Apollo 11 vehicle toward the Moon. Four days later, at 4:18 PM, U.S. Eastern Daylight Time (EDT), the "Eagle" lunar landing module, guided manually by Armstrong, touched down on a plain near the southwestern edge of the Sea of Tranquillity (Mare Tranquillitatis). At 10:56 PM EDT, July 20, 1969, Armstrong stepped from the "Eagle" onto the Moon's dusty surface with the words, "That's one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind."

The road that led Neil Armstrong to the moon’s Sea of Tranquillity began in the Ohio town of Wapakoneta, where his father had settled after roaming the state in a variety of public-service positions. From his early youth Armstrong was fascinated by flight; he took his first ride on an airplane at age six, in his teens he saved money from his after-school job to pay for flying lessons. Quiet and serious, he dreamed about flying, built model airplanes, and devoted himself to flight the way other boys devoted themselves to baseball.

On July 16, 1969, Apollo 11, carrying commander Armstrong and colleagues Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin and Michael Collins, broke free of Earth’s embrace. Even traveling at seven miles per second, it took three days for the Americans to reach the moon. Collins piloted the command module while mission commander Armstrong and co-pilot Aldrin descended to the surface in the Eagle. When the computer landing program threatened to deposit the module in a huge crater circled by boulders, Armstrong manually piloted the craft to safe harbor on a plain near the Sea of Tranquillity. Only seconds’ worth of fuel remained before they reached the mission’s mandatory abort limit. On July 20, 1969, Armstrong — who as senior officer had the honor of being the first person to set foot upon the moon — hopped from the module’s ladder to the moon’s cold, rock-strewn surface. Few will ever forget his simple, moving declaration: “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

After Aldrin also descended, the two bounced along in the eerie light, looking, to more than 600 million television viewers, like two overgrown children in huge white snowsuits. Their boots made visible footprints in the chalky moondust.

Years later, after he had returned to Earth and to a new role as college professor, Armstrong let his accomplishments speak for themselves, shunning interviews and discouraging lionization. But the images of him and Aldrin, buoyant in gravity one-sixth that of the earth, remain in our minds. In a final gesture, he planted an American flag on the lunar surface, an act some called jingoistic. But Armstrong, such critics may have forgotten, also left behind a plaque. It read We came in peace for all mankind.