Antarctic and Arctic operations are pretty much taken for granted nowadays. Although both danger and risk have largely been removed through the modern ships, planes, and equipment used by large, government-financed expeditions, these elements are still not entirely absent. Occasionally an area of the world is explored where the odds are not loaded so heavily in favor of the modern devices. Such an expedition was the establishment of a scientific station in the Weddell Sea by one of the U. S. Navy Task Groups from Operation Deepfreeze II. No ship had ever penetrated closer than 300 miles from the projected U. S. International Geophysical Year station on Cape Adams at the foot of the Palmer Peninsula. Thus, planning the Weddell Sea phase of Deepfreeze II was like planning a voyage to nowhere.
How did the Navy get into this Antarctic business? The Defense Department had been assigned the task of giving logistic support to the U. S. IGY program in the Antarctic. This meant taking supplies and equipment down, providing transportation for the scientific personnel, locating and constructing the stations in defined areas, and furnishing housekeeping and support personnel to winter-over. Naturally, because of the nature of these aids, the Navy has assumed much of the work, though other services have been and are providing considerable assistance.
The specific mission of Deepfreeze II was to establish the U. S. International Geophysical Year stations at the South Pole, Cape Hallett, Marie Byrd Land, Knox Coast, and the Weddell Sea. Resupply and further construction for the McMurdo Sound and Kainan Bay (Little America V) stations already established during Deepfreeze I would also be undertaken. Rear Admiral George Dufek, as Task Force Commander, was to direct three task groups, one to the Ross Sea, one to the Knox Coast, and one to the Weddell Sea, besides supervising the establishment of inland stations by tractor train and plane. (See insert map, p. 1290.)
In 1956, during the hot summer months in Washington, the Task Group staff had ample opportunity to think about the best point of entry into the Weddell Sea. By analyzing information on ocean currents and prevailing winds in this area, a decision was made to forego attempting a frontal attack through the main bulk of the ice pack. Although a flanking assault would increase the mileage to be traveled to the proposed station on Cape Adams at the foot of the Palmer Peninsula, this route appeared better.
Plans were made accordingly to effect penetration at about 10° W. longitude, where the ice belt is thinnest. On reaching the continent in this region, the ships should not experience too much difficulty in proceeding westward along the continental boundaries inboard of the main ice pack. Southerly, katabatic winds would provide an ice-free channel. On paper, the plan looked good. The few Weddell Sea expeditions which had been successful had utilized this procedure.
In the fall, which is the beginning of Antarctic spring, the Weddell Sea Task Group embarked in the cargo ship USS Wyandot (AKA-92), at Davisville, R. I. Shortly thereafter, on November 9, 1956, with a full load of construction materials, handling equipment, supplies, and various categories of personnel, she sailed for Panama to rendezvous with the West Coast-based icebreaker, USS Staten Island (AGB-5). After an interlude in Panama, a three-day visit in Valparaiso, and a two-day fuel stop in Punta Arenas, the two-ship Task Group steamed southward into Antarctic waters.
On December 17, with the cargo ship following close behind, the icebreaker entered the fringe of the pack which consisted of almost equal ice and water areas. Ice floes were in various stages of disintegration and did not present any difficulties to ship progress. At this point, Cape Norvegia on the Antarctic Continent lay due south, 600 miles distant. Cape Adams, the goal, was 1,200 miles further west.
On the third day the ice pack tightened and the Staten Island set to work in earnest. Her job was to smash, break, and shove to clear a path through which the larger cargo ship could proceed. It was not easy. Her greatest trouble, because of her short length and blunt bow, was in maintaining a straight course for the Wyandot. The job of the cargo ship, on the other hand, was to follow the icebreaker, close enough to avail herself of the open channel before ice closed in again and far enough so as not to ram the breaker if she suddenly hit a snag.
Ice conditions gradually became worse, with larger and thicker floes and a more than nine to one ratio of ice to water. Leads, such as they were, invariably ended up blind alleys. Clearing a path either through or around each floe became a major problem which required the expenditure of a great deal of time and effort. Finally the Wyandot ran into trouble. In making a turn she ripped a large hole in her side. A little later the tips of all four propeller blades were sheared off by ice under pressure.
When helicopter reconnaissance showed that the ice was impassable ahead, the Task Group settled down to await a southerly wind which would bring a change in ice conditions. On the fifth day of waiting, the wind swung around to the south and increased to 18 knots. Water features widened, and floes arranged themselves in patterns which would allow easier ship progress. Aided by the overhead eyes of the helicopters from the Staten Island, both ships soon reached an ice-free channel existing between the shore-fast ice and the main bulk of the Weddell Sea ice pack. On December 28 a five-mile wide open- water highway, between the continental ice shelf and the ice pack, was attained. The goal was now 1,200 miles away.
The Antarctic ice-shelf, or barrier which the Task Group was skirting, always presents an impressive picture. It forms the boundaries of the 5,500,000 square miles of land mass, a creeping and retreating extension of its shores, sometimes aground and sometimes afloat. From it the distinctive Antarctic tabular berg is derived. Propelled by the currents into more northern latitudes, the iceberg maintains itself as a definite entity until eventually melting through action of sun, air, and sea.
Not far from the brink of the iceshelf, in the region which the Task Group was now traveling, three Antarctic bases had already been established, the two British stations of Halley Bay and Shackleton during the summer season of 1955-56, and the Argentine station of Belgrano during 1956-57.
After a visit to the British base at Shackle- ton and the Argentine base at Belgrano where they were met with unbounded hospitality, the Task Group pushed on. Beyond the deepest southern indentation of the Weddell Sea, past Belgrano, the Task Group was forced to swing away from the ice shelf because of thick land-fast ice. Following the dark patterns of “water sky” reflected on the low hanging cloud cover, the ships set a northwest course. But now the wind shifted again, from the north. Trouble was not long in coming. Both ships became stuck, literally and figuratively, as the ice closed in hard against their sides. Floes curled up against each other like jammed-up pancakes on a griddle. Every vestige of blue water disappeared. Ship movement, forward or backward, was impracticable and dangerous. Both ships lay to, bow to bow. Occasionally the icebreaker sallied forth to test the pressure, but this always ended in a losing proposition. After being stalled for more than 24 hours, a half mile distant from the cargo ship on one of these forays, it was decided to abandon these tactics.
The cause for the intense ice pressure in this area was explained when a helicopter returned from a flight to report the presence of two immense icebergs, one 27 miles long and the other 34 miles long, which blocked the natural flow of the Weddell Sea ice pack from east to west. Northerly winds were aggravating the situation by not allowing entrapped ice to escape.
The proposed site was still 300 miles away and the Antarctic summer was slipping by. Patience was not easy. Finally, on the eleventh day of waiting, the desired south wind blew. Almost at once small water areas emerged from their hiding places. The ships got underway and proceeded westward, detouring around the full length of the 27-mile iceberg. Soon the ships reached an ice-free channel and were in virgin waters never before touched by a ship’s hull. Speed was increased to ten knots.
Contrary to popular opinion, the Antarctic seas are not barren, frozen deserts, devoid of life, but are literally teeming with small planktonic forms. According to the late Professor Herbert W. Hobbs, “there is more nutritional food value in one acre of Antarctic sea water than in one acre of land or water in any other place in the world.” Tiny shrimps —Euphasia superba- that subsist on plankton are so plentiful that they have often been seen as great “red tides,” stretching from horizon to horizon. They in turn provide food for the penguins and baleenic whales.
In occupying planned oceanographic stations, the Staten Island unlocked some of the secrets of the sea. Each day was a full one for the Navy Oceanographer. Nansen bottle casts brought up samples of water from preselected depths for chemical analysis. Bathythermograph casts by both ships at regular intervals revealed the temperatures at the different depths.
Bottom trawls, orange-peel samplers, and plankton nets brought up many fascinating life forms, every color in the spectrum being represented. Starfish, marine worms, sea urchins, sea cucumbers, sea lilies, small octopi, big and little shrimps, snails, scallops, clams, primitive coral, and many other varieties designated by obscure names were placed in appropriate bottles for final identification and eventual storage for the U. S. National Museum of the Smithsonian Institute. Scientists will undoubtedly discover some new species.
Phleger corers took samples of the ooze on the sea bottom. A study of these samples will give definite information about climatic changes well back in the past. One interesting discovery was the fine white sand, similar to that of some beaches, which was brought up from 160 fathoms in the vicinity of the 27- mile grounded iceberg.
Ships’ fathometers, operating continuously, recorded depths to the ocean floor. The ridges, peaks, and submarine canyons discovered on the expedition will reveal much about the geography of early Antarctica.
Paralleling the full length of the unbroken Filchner Ice Shelf by virtue of a five- to 25- mile wide lead, the Task Group experienced no difficulty in arriving within sixteen miles of the proposed site on Cape Adams. Helicopter reconnaissance revealed that the Cape Adams region was a wild, forbidding locale of abrupt changes and not at all as charted. Broken and heavily fissured bay ice clung to the jagged coastline. Dark chocolate colored peaks and rock nunataks thrust themselves eerily upward out of the snow blanket. It was an intriguing, strange land, but appeared to offer no suitable unloading site for the Task Group. An Antarctic base depends upon good unloading conditions; in fact, the unloading site usually determines the exact location of an Antarctic base or station.
The Task Group turned back to retrace the miles already steamed. Additional trouble plagued the ships; for the icebreaker a broken propeller blade and a sheared main generator crankshaft; for the cargo ship more hull damage. Time was running out. A site for the scientific station had to be found soon.
By reason of its vast ice cap and prevailing low temperatures, probably less than 5% of Antarctica’s shoreline can be logistically supplied by normal amphibious methods. The remainder can be used only by unloading directly on an ice platform, and suitable ones are few and far between. The problem is not lack of ice but finding a section of the desired height which is seasonably permanent and relatively free of crevasses and fissures.
When a station is to be situated on the ice- shelf or barrier, as is true with the majority of present IGY stations, the Task Group Commander generally has the choice of mooring ship and unloading over the side directly on either the iceshelf or bay ice (land- fast ice). The former is composed of fresh water ice of great thickness whereas the other is composed of sea water ice which is relatively thin. Also the latter is usually attached to the former. Both have their advantages and disadvantages.
Five days were spent beating around the 27-mile long iceberg in the reverse direction. Every icebreaking situation demanded that it be studied from all angles prior to execution. Due to her greater length, less facility in turning, and lighter construction as compared to that of the icebreaker, the Wyandot—as is true with other conventional cargo ships—-had to be constantly “mothered” through the ice fields. What was easy for the icebreaker was often difficult or impossible for the larger ship. Many times the Staten Island was forced to go back and break the other ship free when she hung up in trying to negotiate a turn or was deflected by a floe. Where conditions permitted even close-in towing was employed.
Occasionally the floes were so closely packed that clearing a channel for the Wyandot resolved itself into a major engineering problem. Once the Staten Island spent 36 hours cutting a channel through a single floe. By working first on other floes at a distance, and stuffing the resulting debris into nooks and crannies, she was able finally to provide sufficient water area in the vicinity of the large floe to begin work on it. Eventually the channel was cut.
Solving some icebreaking problems was accomplished by allowing the natural forces of current and wind to work on the ice. This often meant breaking a corner off a floe so that it would be free to swing, then lying-to to await developments. Sometimes the wind took charge and at other times the current was the more powerful factor.
On January 26 the Staten Island discovered a small promising embayment on the iceshelf east of Gould Bay. On the Argentine chart it is listed as Baya Chica. Helicopter reconnaissance showed that the iceshelf had a gradual slope and was relatively smooth and free of crevasses. This appeared to be the spot where Ellsworth Station should be erected.
A signal was sent for the Wyandot to moor alongside a flagged section of bay ice which was twenty feet thick and as level as a billiard table. Skiers went over the side to investigate a possible road to the iceshelf a half mile distant. As everyone prepared to congratulate each other in finding such an ideal unloading platform, the skiers returned and dashed our hopes by declaring that they had discovered a 50-foot tidal crack next to the adjacent iceshelf.
A small helicopter was again launched. This time it found an area on the iceshelf itself which filled the bill. All that was required was a few hours of work by the icebreaker. Aided by her two LCM boats pushing against her stern and by the icebreaker shoving against her bow in order to counteract a strong off-shore wind, the Wyandot sank “dead-men” in the ice and moored snugly against the face of the 18-foot-high iceshelf. Trail probers and ice analysts commenced the job of laying out a safe traffic-way to the station, two miles away. Unloading operations went into high gear.
Tractors soon hauled large, red cargo sleds back and forth over the snow highway. Bumpy and plagued by loose, powdery snow at first, the road improved daily as it sank deeper and deeper into the iceshelf. At the station site, first installed were Jamesway huts, the motor pool, sick bay, communication center, and commissary and berthing facilities.
Due to shelf irregularities, the cargo ship was able to work only two hatches simultaneously, one forward and one aft. This meant that the ship had to be shifted back and forth or turned around in order to work various combinations of her five hatches. But little time was lost. Work went on, around the clock, in two 12-hour shifts.
It was the job of the ice wardens to enforce prescribed safety precautions and not allow anyone to approach too near the edge of the iceshelf. Tractors were kept at a safe distance by utilizing a boom whip to haul the empty cargo sleds backwards into loading position. After loading they were pulled away by a long cable attached to a tractor.
Unfortunately, before unloading operations were completed, one enthusiastic driver did get too close. The shelf collapsed. Miraculously, he and the tractor remained in place and upright after a fall of about twenty feet. They were recovered at once, without mishap, but the incident further reduced the usable unloading area.
Meanwhile, aboard the Staten Island, the engineers had their hands full replacing the broken crankshaft in number two engine. It was a difficult job, customarily performed in a Navy Yard. All other icebreaker personnel helped the Sea Bees construct the station facilities.
Aviation personnel embarked on the Wyandot had their work cut out for them in assembling the three short-range Otter aircraft and the large helicopter brought down as cargo. But in a short time the first orange colored plane buzzed like an angry hornet, took off, circled, and went down for a successful landing at the station airfield inland. Soon all aircraft were in the air and engaged in making reconnaissance and familiarization flights over the nearby icescape.
On February 9 the last item came off the Wyandot. As the large hole in her hull was now completely out of water, a welding detail was able to make the necessary repairs. Another grease-smeared working detail transferred 30,000 gallons of Arctic diesel fuel from drums into ship’s fuel tanks by way of an ingenious arrangement of troughs. All other free personnel helped with station construction.
Orange colored buildings and towers mushroomed out of the snow. Supplies, equipment, and oil drums were stacked in neat, prearranged rows. About 60% of the construction had now been completed. It was hard, chilling work because of the air temperatures which were below zero. New ice was fast forming around both ships.
On the morning of February 10 the aero-logical officer uttered ominous words— “stand by for strong northerly winds.” It was high time to leave, for no one except the wintering-over party desired to spend the ensuing year in the Antarctic. A conference was called and decision made to depart in twenty-four hours.
Everybody, from the highest officer to the lowest seaman, worked at the station. Tunnels were built, stores placed inside the tunnels, plumbing and wiring connections made, generators cut-in, and long range communications were established. Everyone worked on the run, without sleep.
At midnight (an hour or two of darkness now prevailed) the Wyandot was ordered to depart. She could await the icebreaker in the large ice-free area off Belgrano Station. But five miles out, with her upperworks clearly visible above the iceshelf, she bogged down, unable to extricate herself from the newly formed ice. She reported that the main ice pack was five miles away and closing in on her at a rate of a quarter of a mile an hour.
Sea Bees, wintering-over personnel, the icebreaker’s ship’s company, observers and staff worked steadily. At a few minutes before noon, on February 11, with the station adjudged 90% completed and self-sustaining, all work was ordered stopped. The remaining 10% of construction, it was decided, could be done by the wintering-over personnel.
Someone lashed the Stars and Stripes to a bamboo pole and stuck it in the snow near the cook shack. Personnel formed a circle about the (lag. The Task Group Commander and the Ellsworth Station Commander conducted a short turn-over ceremony. Everybody shook hands and said goodbye. In spite of hearty words, a certain constraint was felt, as shipmates took leave of each other.
In a few minutes, moorings were slipped and the Staten Island pulled away to begin the long journey back to the States. There was a clicking and grinding of cameras. Men on the ice, those who were being left behind, wanted pictures of the departing icebreaker. Perhaps they wanted to compare them with the ones to be taken a year hence when they themselves would be aboard a ship on their way back to home and civilization. For them, many things would transpire before this came about. It would be a long time indeed.
Aboard the Wyandot, the appearance of help in the form of an icebreaker was like an answer to a prayer. After about two o’clock in the morning when the last heavy stretch of ice was transited, no more difficulty was experienced. In fact no more ice was ever negotiated. Once afterwards, when it appeared that the Task Group was running into an area of sea-ice, course was immediately reversed and more easting made. Thereafter the only ice seen was icebergs.
With its mission successfully accomplished, the Weddell Sea Task Group headed for South American ports. It was pleasant cruising now with prospects of warmer weather and after that it would soon be “home, boys, home; it’s home we’re going to be."