Skijump II, exploration of the Arctic Ocean in winter using aircraft instead of ships, was organized by the Geophysics Branch, Earth Sciences Division, Office of Naval Research. Its primary purpose was to conduct oceanographic investigations of the Arctic Ocean in winter, but there were several secondary missions of decided importance to the Navy, including tests of ski- wheel combinations and other aircraft equipment and the training of personnel in the peculiar environment of the Arctic winter.
In order to tie in all missions in the most efficient manner, it was necessary to compromise time and again. Always there were more tasks requested of the expedition than could be handled; always more logistic support was required than funds available would cover. These facts called for extended discussions among all interested groups before the final plans could be formulated. Although no single task could be carried out in the full measure desired by its sponsor, adjustments were made which allowed each and every project to be completed in its major objective in a successful manner.
But let us see what was involved in this small but notable expedition. First, permission was requested and received from the Chief of Naval Operations to plan an operation of this nature, and that Office assisted by making available through the Bureau of Naval Personnel the pilots of the three aircraft that were used. Other officers were selected at the suggestion of the pilots, and one of the enlisted men was selected because of his participation and interest in Skijump I, which was a previous expedition on a much more modest scale to test the feasibility of landing aircraft on sea ice.
The Bureau of Aeronautics maintained a particular interest throughout the project, not only because it was to furnish the aircraft, but also because of its requirements for tests of the ski-wheel combinations on the two P2V Neptunes and the other Bureau equipment. The Bureau of Yards and Docks desired our aircraft to carry out service tests of temporary Arctic runway facilities, a task that Skijump could perform without difficulty. The U. S. Navy Hydrographic Office, which acts as the repository of all oceanographic and hydrographic data, was particularly interested in the characteristics of the ice itself, as well as the water under the ice, and submitted special log forms for completion by the observers. Admiral Byrd’s office supplied valuable information of aid in planning and coordinated a project of the Smithsonian Institution with Skijump II. The ski-equipped P2V’s were originally modified for Admiral Byrd.
Still more had to be done before the takeoff for the frozen North. The R4D had to have a special hydrographic winch and other equipment installed at the Naval Air Station at Quonset Point, Rhode Island. Clothing and survival gear had to be procured at the Naval Air Test Center at Patuxent, Maryland; special gyro-magnetic compasses of a new design were obtained from the Air Force. To facilitate purchases of the necessary equipment and supplies an allotment from the Office of Naval Research was placed at NATO, which organization handled most of the paper work for the expedition. The oceanographers, sponsored by ONR, were from the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. All of the scientific equipment and work was their responsibility. The author accompanied the first phase of the expedition as the ONR representative and to make geophysical measurements.
Command responsibilities were arranged so that operations in Alaska and in the Arctic Ocean would come within the cognizance of the Commander of the Alaskan Sea Frontier and logistic support was arranged through the Director of Naval Petroleum Reserve No. 4 and the ONR-sponsored Arctic Research Laboratory at Pt. Barrow. Close cooperation was offered by the Air Force which collaborated with the Navy by giving additional specialized navigation training to Skijump’s three aircraft navigators. Although Arctic navigation is not particularly difficult, the grid system used requires practice before it becomes second nature to the navigating officer.
Difficulties with the three aircraft plagued the expedition from the start. It was only the superb morale of every man that kept the group from discouragement that would have ended the expedition even before it started. One of the P2V Neptunes broke a bow ski- cable as the landing gear was lowered during its approach to Ladd Air Force Base at Fairbanks, Alaska. The ski dropped down vertically, jamming the flaps and threatening to tear the landing gear off when the plane touched the ground. The crew and two Lockheed engineers aboard managed to apply sufficient hydraulic pressure to the after strut to raise the ski, but a very bad twenty minutes elapsed before a safe landing was made with all hands at ditching stations. The smaller R4D developed minor troubles at Pt. Barrow, such as defective distributor, and the common and expected gasoline leaks which plague all aircraft in the Arctic caused no end of bother. Nothing really serious seemed to go wrong. But in the Arctic and especially at the “Southernmost Base” of the northern tip of Alaska, Pt. Barrow, where there are no hangars or mechanics, and the temperature hovers around —25° F., on the average during the winter, little troubles become very great ones. The men worked diligently day after day hampered by the cold. To take off one’s gloves meant grave danger of injury to the hands; to work with gloved hands in intricate mechanisms was a gigantic task. The finest oil became the consistency of sticky tar, the heavy parkas hindered every movement, the cold and the drifting, biting snow stung at the men every minute.
Finally, on March 11, 1952, after several weeks of reconnaissance and preparation, the doughty little R4D raced its engines, heavily lumbered off the snow-covered runway of Pt. Barrow, and headed north over the great frozen ocean. About one hour after the “Flying Oceanographic Laboratory” took off, the Neptune roared down the runway leaving a cloud of snow astern. At the expected time the faster Neptune joined the R4D, and both pilots began their search for a suitable spot on which to land.
Approximately 400 miles north the R4D banked over a beautiful, smooth stretch of ice which was obviously a newly-frozen lead. This lead probably had been frozen for some months, but appeared in sharp contrast to the old and jumbled polar ice which thrust great uplifted blocks into the air. Now the question: It was smooth enough, it was long enough, but was it thick enough? There was only one sure way to find the answer. After the pilots had taken a close and careful look at the ice, sizing up mentally its general color, shape, and apparent snow cover, the plane came in for a “touch- and-go” landing. The skis would not be needed, for there was only an inch or so of snow, and so these were retracted, leaving the tires protruding several inches below the skis. The wheels touched the flawlessly smooth ice, it felt good and firm. The pilot nosed onto the ice a little harder. It still felt solid. Now the jagged old ice loomed ahead and with full power the craft eased again into the air. A circle again at low altitude, and the “firing run” was started. This time was for keeps as the plane gracefully eased onto the ice. As the R4D rolled to a stop the cargo door was flung open and the oceanographers jumped out. The 6-foot gasoline-powered chain saw was passed hurriedly down to them, and in a few seconds the saw was biting deep into the ice. In less than a minute water gushed up from the whirling blade. “Five and one-half feet,” the drillers signalled to the pilot, and the plane’s engines slowly stopped. The watchful P2V received the news by radio, “All clear and plenty thick.” Without further ado the 35-ton bomber slid smoothly onto the ice and taxied alongside the R4D, the first heavy warplane ever to attempt an offshore ice landing.
There was much for the men to do. On the R4D, heaters had to be rigged so that each engine received direct blasts of hot air from gasoline burners placed on the ice in front of the plane. Then the survival kits, dynamite, and the 500 gallon rubber gasoline tank for the cache had to be carried outside; the internal heaters were started, radio antennas were set up, and the business of existing 400 miles out into the Arctic Ocean had begun. The P2V crew also had a full job on its hands. Not five minutes after the landing the sky became completely overcast and a light mist of snow commenced falling, even though the temperature stood at -27° F. This is a particularly bad situation for the airmen, because when the fine snow falls the sky blends with the sea ice perfectly and creates what is known as “milkbowl” conditions. Under these conditions the illusion is such that the pilot cannot distinguish between the ice and the sky at all. For all practical purposes the visibility is absolutely zero. Knowing of these conditions, the pilot of the P2V hurried his work as much as possible. Hundreds of gallons of gasoline were pumped directly into the R4D, and then into the rubber tank on the ice; special equipment was unloaded. In a few more minutes the plane left the ice and disappeared into the snowy sky.
There was a sudden feeling of loneliness when the Neptune faded from sight. In a few hours its crew would all be comfortably seated around the heaters in a Quonset hut or at the Arctic Research Laboratory lounge. Then they would walk a few hundred feet through the snow and frost and sit down to an excellent meal, furnished at the naval establishment at Pt. Barrow. The people at the naval establishment have one consolation, at least: When they feed a hungry man, they feed him right!
But aboard the lonely speck of a plane surrounded by the great white ocean there was little time to think of happier places to be. Each officer and man turned to with a will. A couple of men of the ten-man crew started up the 12-inch gasoline-powered post-hole auger, and in a few minutes it had penetrated the ice, leaving a smooth hole through which the instruments would be passed down into the sea. A nylon tent fitted to the fuselage of the plane over the cargo doors surrounded the hole in the ice and the opening to the plane, and provided an effective windbreak for the oceanographers. For additional comfort, and in order to keep the hole from re-freezing, a hot air duct was led into the tent and was pointed directly at the hole. Meanwhile, an “A-frame” was rigged out from the cargo hatch, and onto this was attached a block which recorded the number of meters of wire which ran over it. The wire led from a little gasoline winch inside the plane, over fairleads, over the block on the “A-frame,” and then directly into the hole in the ice. A small sounding lead provided sufficient weight to keep the wire taut. After the rigging was completed the oceanographers went to work. Nansen bottles, which entrap samples of the water and at the same time record the temperature of the water to within 0.01° C. at any selected depth, were lowered on the wire, three bottles to a “cast” to different and progressively deeper levels until at last the desired depth of nearly 10,000 feet was reached. The ocean was deeper, but this depth of sampling was considered quite adequate. As the bottles were taken off the wire they were placed in racks where the thermometers were read with a microscope, and the water samples were drawn into special plastic bottles. Some of the samples were used for the determination of the amount of dissolved oxygen in the sea water, and these had to be treated with chemicals immediately. Other water samples from the same Nansen bottle would be used to determine the salt content and the phosphate content. Again and again the winch chugged and pulled until all of the samples were taken and all of the delicate thermometers were read. Everyone in the crew helped far into the night. The photographer turned out to be a first-rate winch man, and the copilot handled the delicate equipment like an expert.
The oceanographic work was completed at about 0300 and the gear was stowed and secured. One of the difficulties not foreseen was that the sea water, dripping from the hydrographic wire inside the plane, had frozen to the metal floor of the fuselage to depths up to an inch. This made the passageway almost impassable because of the slope of the flooring. In spite of the ice everyone soon set up sleeping bags, spare clothing, parachutes, etc. to sleep on. In the cockpit, where everyone, officers, enlisted men, and civilians, took regular turn at watch, it was almost unbearably warm—in the high 80’s. At the after end of the cabin the thermometers read about five degrees below zero. The people sleeping on stretchers high in the cabin needed no covers at all; those sleeping on the frozen deck were bundled tightly into double sleeping bags.
In the first glimmer of the long morning twilight the watch suddenly came aft to report an object moving outside the plane. The plane commander grabbed a carbine, loaded it, and climbed out of the ship. The hard frost on the ice crunched loudly under his mukluks, but the animal paid no attention to him. It was an Arctic fox munching on the garbage set out about 25 yards from the craft after the previous night’s dinner. The hunter circled the fox slowly, then raised his gun and fired, killing the beast instantly with a shot through the heart. It would have been desirable to capture the animal, but no provisions had been made to cage wild beasts and “bring ’em back alive.” No record of foxes or any other mammal has ever been obtained for this particular area. The last airplane to carry the needle-toothed and sharp-clawed beasts in northern Alaska had crashed, and the cause of that disaster was suspected to be that the wild foxes had broken loose. The presence of that animal meant only one thing—there were polar bears nearby. The polar bear feeds on the seal, and the fox lives on what is left of the seal. There is no other food for him on the frozen sea ice.
After this impromptu fox hunt, everyone arose and prepared for breakfast. There were no professional cooks aboard, and so the amateurs took over. Since fresh water was not easy to obtain, scouring the frying pans posed a problem. But this difficulty was resolved when it was found that by leaving the pans outside for a few minutes the -35° F. cold made the grease hard and brittle, and it simply flaked off.
While awaiting the arrival of the next P2V from Ft. Barrow, soundings were made by blasting sticks of dynamite in the ice, and recording on a moving chart the initial blast and the bottom echo. The temperature and salinity were known from the oceanographic data, so the speed of sound in the water could be calculated, and the depth could then be determined from the difference in time between the blast and echo.
In mid-morning the second Neptune came into view and circled overhead. All gear was stowed, and the engines of the R4D were warmed up and ready. In a few minutes the ship was airborne and joined the bomber in a search for a landing spot some one hundred miles eastward of the first station. A suitable patch of ice similar to the one at the first station was found very near where the No. 2 station had been planned, and after the routine landing procedures had been carried out the planes landed and stopped. This time the crew of the R4D was in for a happy surprise. Not only did the Neptune bring in fresh supplies and fuel, but also mail, and a can of beer for all hands. This was service at its best. After transferring the water samples, the dead fox, and data to the bomber, we watched it take off again for Pt. Barrow, leaving the R4D to repeat the work of the night before at a new location. The oceanographic work was repeated successfully and without incident, and by morning all gear was secured in readiness for takeoff for station No. 3. Several hours passed, and still there was no sign of the escorting P2V. By noon radio contact had been established with the escort, and orange smoke signals were lit to assist them in locating the flying laboratory. Shortly thereafter visual contact was made, and the R4D took off and proceeded eastward, searching for another suitable landing spot. Near the planned position for the next station a good area was found, and using the established procedures for testing the ice first, a landing was made. The ice saw indicated a thickness a little over two feet. This was enough for the R4D, but was a little risky for the bomber. Another place had to be found. After wasting more time in the search, a short but smooth ice runway was spotted, and the ice proved suitable for both planes.
The extra flying time for the two planes had resulted in a serious shortage of gasoline. The P2V pilot transferred every gallon to the R4D that he thought he could spare and took off immediately for Pt. Barrow. The gasoline given to the R4D was not quite enough to get her back to Barrow, but under the expected favorable conditions could be enough to reach the Air Force landing strip at Barter Island, Alaska. The oceanographers raced against time, for the gasoline heaters used much of the precious fluid. Shortly after dark the R4D plane commander announced it was imperative that the return trip be made at once, and so the gear was very quickly brought aboard, final position checks were made, and the ship prepared for the takeoff.
A night takeoff from a short stretch of ice would have been difficult in any case, but it was further hampered because the defrosting air provided the heavily frosted windshields with only a tiny peephole through which the pilot could see. By following the tracks made in the snow from the landing, the pilot was able to conn the plane down the “runway,” and in a few seconds skillfully lifted the ship into the air and clear of the jagged pressure ridges ahead.
The expected favorable conditions did not occur. Instead of good visibility and a gentle tailwind, a bad stretch of weather and about fifty knots of crosswind narrowed further the thin margin of safety allowed. It was within a very few minutes of the time that all material except survival gear would have to be jettisoned, and an emergency (and possibly disastrous) landing would have to be made on unknown and unseen ice, when the welcome radio signals of Barter Island were received. Without circling, and in spite of poor visibility at low altitude caused by drifting snow, the craft dropped to a safe landing—fuel tanks almost dry. Inadequate weather information in the far north had contributed to a rather close call.
Next morning all planes were again at Pt. Barrow, and the checks and repairs were again undertaken. By March 25, 1952, all was in readiness to establish the next group of stations running northward from station No. 1 toward the North Pole. This time all went well, and a station was occupied near latitude 79° N., but one of the P2Vs suffered an engine casualty in flight and had to return to Pt. Barrow on a single engine. It was necessary to jettison bomb-bay gasoline tanks for the safety of the ship, although gasoline was in short supply at Pt. Barrow.
The alternate P2V joined the R4D the following day and escorted her northward toward station No. 5. North of 80° N. progressively fewer possible landing sites were encountered, until finally because of shortage of fuel the R4D simply had to land on the best of a very poor area of old, thick and rough ice. The snow cover on the older ice was heavier than on the previous landing sites, so wheels were retracted and ski landings were made. The ice was extremely rough, and the heavy P2V suffered slight damage to its starboard ski and the propeller reversing mechanism of one engine. The ski damage proved a blessing in disguise, because as a result of this slight mishap the design of the ski was modified to make it much stronger and better.
Upon refueling the R4D, the P2V again returned to Pt. Barrow, while the oceanographers, officers, and men of the small plane carried out their routine observations and other duties. The next day, March 27, the little plane started on its takeoff run over the rough ice, gained speed, and started to lift. Suddenly a sharp jolt was felt, and the copilot was amazed to see the port propeller “walking” across the ice ahead of the plane. At the same instant the left wing dropped onto the ice and the ship slithered sideways to a halt. Fearing fire, all hands made for the hatches and doors, but smoke from the port engine proved to be only steam, and within minutes the situation was well under control with all lifesaving gear laid out, and radio reports of the accident sent. A true test of survival near the North Pole in winter had begun in earnest.
There was food, water, heat and clothing to last for many days, and no one was hurt, so there was no special rush about being rescued. The plane commander surveyed the situation carefully and examined the damaged airplane. The port landing gear had collapsed under strain from the rough ice, and the gear had folded into the engine nacelle. The propeller was found far from the plane, bent and twisted. The port engine was severely damaged, and there was the possibility that the left wing had been strained. It was not impossible to repair the ship, provided men and equipment were sent out to work on it, but the cost of such an operation more than exceeds the worth of the old workhorse herself, and the risk to personnel landing on the poor ice made it entirely inadvisable to conduct such an operation. The pilot then made a carefully considered, deliberate, and wise decision. He recommended that the plane be abandoned, but that all valuable instruments, data, and equipment be rescued and returned.
Preparing for rescue operations, all hands from the ill-fated plane turned to with shovels and picks to improve the landing area for the rescue plane and marked out a suitable runway with flags. During the clearing operations the cause of the crash was found—a displaced block of ice uplifted from the surrounding ice, but completely covered and hidden by drifted snow. It was little wonder that even a good examination of the ice before takeoff had failed to reveal this small but significant flaw.
Three days later the runway had been prepared, all valuable gear stripped from the plane, and all hands were ready and anxious to be taken from the floating ice. The P2V landed, and men and gear were loaded aboard. The takeoff was difficult because of the short runway and the heavy load, but using emergency power and procedure the plane staggered into the air just short of the ice hummocks ahead, gained speed and altitude, and returned uneventfully to Pt. Barrow. The oceanographic phase of Ski- jump II was now definitely over, but there were still other phases to complete, using only the two P2V’s, and the plans were therefore continued without interruption.
Further plans consisted of ice reconnaissance and a landing on Ice Island “T-3,” which is one of several very large masses of fresh water ice, some over ten miles in diameter, now floating in the sea ice of the frozen ocean. Whereas the sea ice averages perhaps seven to ten feet in thickness, these great floating masses may have drafts measured in hundreds of feet. They are undoubtedly of glacial origin and probably are formed by being broken off and drifting to sea from glaciers of Ellesmere Island just west of the northern tip of Greenland. They have been a subject of great interest to the Air Force. It was while Skijump was busily engaged in landing on the sea ice to conduct scientific work that the Air Force expedition landed on “T-3.” A landing on the ice island had been planned for Skijump, but this project carried a relatively low priority in the Skijump mission. Of course the healthy and friendly rivalry between the two groups made the Skijump personnel envious of the success of the Air Force mission, but there were many reasons why Skijump was pleased and proud of the Air Force accomplishments. It immediately gave to the area another radio station on which to home; another landing strip tried and tested; another very badly needed meteorological station. In addition it brought well-deserved honor to the Air Force personnel who had planned and executed the mission.
On April 5, 1952, the two P2V’s again winged northward, studying the ice below and recording polar phenomena. Finally they arrived at “T-3.” After comparing notes for a couple of hours with the Air Force group, Skijump personnel warmed up both aircraft and started for the return reconnaissance flight. On one of the Neptunes an engine failed on takeoff, and a safe emergency landing was made on the ice island. The plane was undamaged, but the engine was beyond repair. This meant that the Navy would have to stay for awhile, until a new engine was installed. The other aircraft continued on its mission, returning to Pt. Barrow via Thule, Greenland. Arrangements were made by the Commander of the Alaskan Sea Frontier to send a crew to “T-3” for the engine change, and the Air Force provided a cargo plane large enough to carry the bulky engine. Fleet Air Squadron 114 from Kodiak, Alaska, was directed to install the new engine, and with the help of the P2V crew managed to exchange the engines in only four days after the replacement had arrived. It was a remarkable feat, only about 100 miles from the Pole, but was accomplished without comment or fanfare. Meanwhile, the Navy assisted the Air Force personnel on “T-3” by building additional shelters and structures for them, and generally improving the living conditions at “T-3” in small repayment for Air Force hospitality.
On April 26, all Skijump planes and personnel returned to the United States. The missions had been successfully completed. The costs had not been high, while the returns had been very great. The old and faithful R4D lay a stripped hulk in the middle of the Arctic Ocean, but this was the only debit. On the credit side there are many entries. The scientific results, including those from data taken on the last, fateful station, were of importance not only in understanding the nature of the Arctic Ocean, but in understanding more of the principles governing the general behavior of major ocean currents in other parts of the world. It has also been found that the data suggested the existence of a ridge of undersea mountains across the Arctic Ocean, and more recent direct studies have offered additional evidence of this. Other scientific results are classified for security reasons, but they amplify the importance of the material collected. The ski- wheel combinations had been tested in the most rugged field trials imaginable, had been found wanting, and were corrected. Survival gear and techniques had been used under emergency conditions, and as a result are now being improved. Yet more important, a group of fine naval officers and men, including the efficient mechanics of FASRON 114, had undergone experiences and training which could not be equalled elsewhere.