S8: “Mayday, mayday!”

Jeff/Dr. Robert Cope was absent

7 Nov: The Gabrielle made “slow ahead”, accompanied with the groans of the ice and creak of the hull, leaving the derelict Wallaroo in its wake. Days of thick ice that required more blasting to carve passage.

9 Nov: ‘Careful what you wish for’: Finally, they found broken ice accompanied by high waves and wind whipping snow and frozen spray across the ship and anyone topside and exposed. Misery that sought refuge in the cabins.

13 Nov: Commotion on deck woke all below who first realized the ship at full stop and no sea motion. They rushed topside to join in the jubilation spotting open sea before them. Morale improved. Sunbathers on deck. Then afternoon sighting of penguins and seals riding atop pancake icebergs.

Laughter interrupted by the ship speaker broadcasting the news of Ms. Acacia Lexington’s ship arriving at the south pole and she documented flying in an autogyro-Whirligig as the first woman to fly in Antarctica. Soon the speaker played Capt Vredenburg’s radio call to Ms. Lexington herself congratulating her achievement. The crew did not need the ship speaker to hear an irate Starkweather berating the captain.

14 Nov: 28-days since leaving Melbourne and they FINALLY saw their destination. Mt. Erebus low on the horizon to the east which meant Ross Island dead ahead. The ship speaker crackled with the excitement in Starkweather’s voice, “Gentlemen, our destiny awaits. Form your teams and consult the posted order of unloading. The S&M Expedition is about to commence.” A little premature…it was another 9 hours slow sailing till the ship finally set anchor alongside the Ross-Ice-Shelf.

As Oskar took charge of unloading his medical supplies and his ‘special medical tonic’, Wilbur was assigned as point-man to setup tents at the temporary camp. Fiskarson directed the dogsled teams to fan out to find a path above the shelf ice for a more permanent base camp. Packard already had the men on 6-hr shifts unloading the ship and stacking supplies to the left with tents erected on the right to protect the engineers Cruz and Lopez assembling the tractors. 

The pilots Doug and Ralph were already surveying and flagging the edges of a temporary airstrip. Meanwhile, cargo booms swung airplane frames to the ice for assembly. Two Boeing (Weddell and Enderby) and one Fairchild (Scott) the smallest and thus assembled first. Assembly took longer as the pilots had to remove their gloves to handle the smaller nuts and bolts. Alternating between work and a blowtorch to stave off any frostbite, it took 3 hours but needed another 2 hours just to fuel, oil, and lubricate before each flight.

Suddenly, a whistle blew calling all back aboard the Gabrielle for a final REAL breakfast of ham, eggs, fruit, and real milk. By 5am, the ship was already moving offshore back into the Ross Sea where it would take up station. Clockwork, everything humming. Ugh no. Grueling hard labor that worked up a sweat and thus mild frostbite for Dr. Orendorf and Green to treat. And of course, Packard boiling at the incessant meddling by Mr. Starkweather himself. “Mr. Sampson, you seem to have the man’s ear. Could you possibly get him out of my hair? He’s driving me and my men crazy.”

Wilbur remembered his Antarctica expeditions history. Specifically, the 1915 Shackleton Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition that setup supply depots across Antarctica. Wilbur approached Starkweather, “Sir, I remember you honored Mr. Shackleton by naming one of your planes after him. I seem to recall there is a Shackleton supply depot just east of us say 100 miles. There could be stored fuel drums. You could kill-2-birds-with-one-stone by flighting to the sight not only for the supplies but a great photo op of you paying respect to the man.” Photo op was probably all he heard, “My God man, what a grand idea! Mr. Miles, ready the Scott for its first flight.”

5 hours of bliss without interruptions or meddling. Packard was ecstatic.

16 Nov: Fiskarson and his teams finally returned with news of the best inland location for the base camp about 40 miles away. Which meant another coordinated effort to move all the cargo. Crews loaded the planes, as the caterpillar tractors pulled pallets of bulky supplies, while the dogsled teams handled lighter loads. The cycle was repeated with sleep intervals. Long days ahead.

18 Nov: Barely two-thirds thru moving the cargo, when suddenly around noon, an alarm sounded throughout the camp. “Fissures! I can see cracks in the ice starting from the shore creeping toward camp!” Oskar coordinated triage directing crews to move items known to be lacking at the base camp. Loud cracking and popping announced more fissures. Now it was a race against time, “Try to spread out the pallets to lessen the weight in one area!”

5pm: A new fissure appeared in front of a returning caterpillar. Wilbur acted quickly to fire a flare at the cat to get the drivers attention. Fortune the cat stopped as the fissure widened revealing open ocean water. More cracks created individual ice sheets. The men watched helplessly as the sheets tilted dumping pallets of pemmican and drums of aviation fuel. Finally, Moore directed, “Evacuate! Form a pallet train. Two men stay behind to stack cargo for the next flight.” Wilbur warned, “Steer the cats line-abreast to lessen the weight on the ice.”

15 men made the 3-caterpillar trek. Wilbur took command, “20-minute Indian rotation. Alternate between riding inside the cat or riding the pallets. Lead 2 men per cat climb in while those exiting, back of the line.” Sykes draped canvas tarps over the pallets to shelter the riders from the freezing wind. Oskar pulled out a bottle of Scotch per passenger pallet, “Nurse it. Long night ahead.” Packard had taken inventory, “Damn it. We lost or left 140 drums of fuel and another 4 tons of Pemmican.”

7pm: As Miles piloted the Scott on approach to the temporary camp, his co-pilot Ms Maskill suddenly called out, “Abort! There is a wide fissure cut across the runway.”

11pm: Cheers rang up at base camp upon their arrival. Starkweather appeared before them with bottles of whiskey, “A temporary setback. But well done on the teamwork.” Oskar turned to Moore, “What’s the real story? We may not have lost the entire expedition, but surely Starkweather realizes he needs to curtail his grandiose side adventures.” Moore spoke with dred and remorse, “I am so close to my lost friends of the ’31 expedition. Are we cursed in our efforts to retrieve them? But as you say, take inventory and calculate just what we can accomplish. And before I forget, send a dogsled to retrieve those 2 men left at the temporary camp.”

The next few days saw the base camp taking shape as crews constructed: a latrine, medical hut, photo lab, plane hangars and kennels for the dogs. Greg Pulaski returned with a seal carcass strapped to his dogsled. “Chewy, blubbery, and fishy but beats that pemmican. Eat it raw like the Innuits. I’ll grill more up tonight.” Oskar had his with a scotch chaser from his hipflask. With camp construction complete, the scientists fought boredom by playing cards. The laborers passed the time singing and playing instruments or just sleeping. Which was way too easy given the cold threat outside.

The dogsleds began laying supply caches toward the mountains where the ’31 expedition was lost. “In case a plane has engine trouble between base camp and our destination.” Every 12 hours the meteorologists Albemarle and Orgelfinger sent up balloons while recording the wind/temperature gauges. “Barometer is falling. Storm on the horizon.” Wilbur settled into a routine assisting Sykes by making rounds to check those working outside for frostbite. “Remember, buddy system. Check each other regularly.”

20 Nov, 3am: A bright clear night as polar lights danced across the horizon. Anyone awake first heard a distant muffled boom, then felt a low rumble to the east. Suddenly, the radio came alive. An “S.O.S.” alarm echoed throughout the camp. Laroche feverishly worked the radio dial trying to get a fix and better reception as Starkweather entered and stood over his shoulder to listen. “Mayday, mayday. This is the Tallahassee reporting. Lexington camp under attack.”

Starkweather grabbed the radio microphone as he broadcast, “Lexington camp. This is SM Camp. Over. Acacia, can you hear me?” Silence. Till the radio crackled, “This is McCall on the Tallahassee. Someone in camp reported gunshots. And then the camp ablaze. We heard and felt the explosion, possibly one of the fuel dumps. The camp is not answering radio calls and we cannot make landfall to assist. Can you help?”

Starkweather was already trying to organize a rescue party. “Can’t get a plane warmed up in time. We’ll need to take a dogsled.” Wilbur had to persuade him to bring a trail radio, “I know it’s only 8 miles away but remember there is no radio contact. Besides, we might need to call if we have our own troubles.” Oskar was already beside a dogsled, “I’ve loaded medical supplies and burn treatment base on the reported fire.”

As the 3 dogsleds took off, Starkweather/Sykes/Wilbur/Oskar followed behind on skis. Tough going as the dogs were breaking a new trail. And the terrain undulated with ice ridges, gaps, and alternating packed or powdery snow that even the dogs fought. Causing a few novice skiers to fall. Exhausting (CONsave). It took 2 hours to make the 8-mile trip. At first they saw red flags that marked Lexington camp trails. And then a thin-black pillar of smoke a quarter-mile ahead marked the destination camp. Black ash covered the camp. The radio antenna was toppled. But there was calm coordination as men worked around smoldering tents.

Soon a lone man appeared who walked toward the new arrivals, “I’m Henke, the crew boss. I see by your logos you’re from the SM Expedition. Ah, Mr. Starkweather, didn’t recognize you with your hood pulled tight. If you’ll follow me. Somehow Ms Lexington was expecting you.” The others politely kept out. But the inside volume spilled out as everyone heard the back-n-forth conflict. Awkward till Oskar spoke up to another worker, “Your ship captain told us about a fire. I brought burn supplies, so if you could take me to your medical tent and doctor. I’m here to assist any patients.”

Wilbur wandered around offering help only to get gruff replies, “Word is, your Mr. Starkweather is to blame. He’s been sabotaging our efforts since we left. The New York dock fire, food spoilage as we sailed, sugar poured in tractor engines. Now this. Just because Ms Lexington aborted their child. Oh, you didn’t know that bit of news. He did more than just rescue Acacia on that 1920 Africa safari, if you know what I mean. Vengeful he is for she robbing him of an heir. That’s why they hate each other.”

Wilbur tried to explain to Ray Johnson (a camp worker) about the S&M expedition’s own mishaps, “We’ve had similar disasters. We caught the arsonist at the docks. Then found another saboteur onboard. And we suspected your Ms Lexington trying to eliminate competition.” Ray mellowed as he explained, “This! Fucked from the start. Missing supplies, things disappearing. Now those crazy guys shooting up the camp. A stray bullet ignited one of the fuel dumps. Talk to our cameraman Chip, he saw it all.”

Dr. Anthony greeted Oskar, “Yes, I could use your help. A few injuries and then those two crazies. By chance, are you a Psychologist?” Oskar looked around to see one man sitting with a rifle across his lap, guarding the others. Another man unconscious on a cot. Another being bandaged. Anthony led him to the side to whisper, “I suspect snow craze. Ron, the unconscious one, scrambled out of his tent screaming about spiders. Desperately trying to brush them off. Then threw a torch into the tent to ‘burn them out.’ Meanwhile, Dale, getting bandaged, came out of his tent with a rifle screaming about ‘the Germans are coming…with flamethrowers.’ He started shooting everywhere and suddenly one of the fuel dumps exploded.”

As Oskar began to evaluate those patients, Anthony continued, “Obviously the explosion caused more fires. Our radioman Tony got burnt and also our filmmaker Albert. Thank God no-one got killed. But we lost a lot of supplies. Everyone thinks the expedition doomed what with this loss and the prior food spoilage. The crew thinks we’re cursed.” Oskar checked Ron for spider bites and even looked thru his destroyed tent for spider bodies to no avail. He even checked the lantern for bad fuel or faulty wick.

Dr. Anthony added, “Ron always has had a phobia about spiders. I guess something caused him to hallucinate. Just like Dale and his Great War nightmares.” Which got Oskar asking, “Did they share a tent? Possible carbon monoxide poisoning? Did you take any blood samples?” The more they talked and examined the patients, Oskar came to a conclusion, “I don’t think this is snow sickness. More a psychotic break. But the fact they happened at the same time is most puzzling. For now, keep them isolated. Maybe send them back to the ship.”

As Oskar and Wilbur waited for Starkweather to conclude his dealings with Acacia, both wandered thru the camp. Everyone gave the same story. At least those who would talk to the enemy being members of the S&M team. Oskar had had enough, “Can the attitude! We’re here to help. We brought supplies and helped with your injured. We are all facing the same Antarctica threat and must bond together.” Wilbur pulled out the field radio they had brought, “I understand you lost your antenna. Use this to communicate with your ship. And keep in contact with us. We are not enemies.”

Both looked at the tent where Starkweather was still bellowing and both quietly thought, “At least not enemies like those two. Strange bedfellows they are.”

Next episode: https://rigglebmm.blogspot.com/2020/11/s9-this-must-be-it-one-of-lakes-find.html