Locked in the ice. In years gone by, so read j the epitaph of many a ship. On occasion, the crews and sometimes the vessels, have survived the ordeal, but only after suffering extreme privations. More often than not, the grip of the ice led to utter doom.
Today, there is no reason why any ship should fall prey to the ice. Since the attention of no less than 11 countries has been centered on the Antarctic Continent through the International Geophysical Year, many ships have been operating in the ice fields of the southern continent. Three of the countries, Argentina, the U.S.S.R., and the United States, have icebreaker types which can assist vessels having serious difficulty with the ice.
As the 1958-1959 season progressed, reports of severe ice conditions began drifting in to London from the British Antarctic bases. From a ship’s operating standpoint, the sea- ice conditions gave promise of being the worst in history. The ice had been frozen to extreme thickness by unusually low winter temperatures. A lack of severe storms had prevented the normal spring break-up around most of the continent. As a result, many ships began experiencing early difficulty in relieving and supplying their Antarctic bases and were in danger of being locked in the ice pack for long periods of time.
Request for Help
One of the first ships in trouble was the 600-ton Polarhav. This Arctic sealing vessel of Norwegian registry was under lease to the Belgian government and was on her way to resupply and relieve the Belgian base on the shore of the King Haakon Sea. Rear Admiral George J. Dufek, U. S. Navy (Retired), as Commander Naval Support Forces Antarctica, published the alert from his headquarters in New Zealand: “INFORMAL INFO CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS INDICATES RESUPPLY SHIP POLARHAV BESET IN BRIED BAY ANTARCTIC 30 MILES FROM DESTINATION BELGIAN KING BAUDOUIN BASE X EXPECT FORMAL REQUEST FOR ASSISTANCE WILL BE FORTHCOMING X”
Shortly a follow-up dispatch was received telling of Polarhav's definite need for assistance. Two other requests also appeared imminent. The Japanese ship, Soya, heading in to reestablish the SHOWA base on Prince Olav Coast, assisted by the icebreaker USS Burton Island, reported that she was unable to penetrate the pack. Further word was received that the Argentines had a small party stranded on Robertson Island off the east coast of the Palmer Peninsula. Such difficulty pointed rather convincingly to extremely heavy ice conditions in most parts of the Antarctic.
Following completion of resupply operations at Cape Hallett, USS Arneb and Staten Island were directed to McMurdo Sound to unload additional cargo at the Naval Air Facility. A small staff, the Antarctic historian, Dr. Henry M. Dater of the Antarctic Project Office in Washington, and Commander Task Group 43.1, operational commander of the annual resupply, traveled eastward aboard Northwind to transfer to the 8,600-ton Glacier coming down from New Zealand.
Embarking in Glacier, they skirted the edge of the ice packs of the Amundsen and Bellingshausen Seas, then angled up into the entrance of Bransfield Strait, between the tip of Palmer Peninsula and the South Shetland Islands. Heavy ice in Bransfield Strait forced Glacier to detour further to the north and enter Weddell Sea through Drake Passage.
After a message was sent to the Argentine commander aboard his icebreaker General San Martin that Glacier was in the area and ready to give assistance if needed, the ship proceeded southward toward Robertson Island.
Back came a prompt answer: “ARRIVED ROBERTSON X EVACUATION IN PROGRESS X NO ASSISTANCE NEEDED X THANKS.”
It was obvious that the Argentines were taking care of themselves. Reports from the Japanese showed that they also were doing somewhat better. After having failed to reach their base the previous year, they had enlarged and strengthened Soya's flight deck so they could handle large helicopters and use them to re-establish their station from a distance if ice conditions so dictated.
The Belgians, on the other hand, left no doubt about the seriousness of their plight. Now, too, the governor of the Falkland Islands intimated that he would probably ask for U. S. icebreaker assistance in the near future, as the research vessels John Biscoe and Shackleton were experiencing difficulty with their tasks of supplying and relieving their stations on the off-lying islands and west coast of the Palmer Peninsula.
Glacier's immediate concern was for the Belgians. Initially she could not count on support from Edisto, the other icebreaker in the same general area, as Edisto was still engaged in relieving the wintering-over party at Ellsworth Station in the Weddell Sea.
On 2 February, after 14 days of circling the Antarctic Continent, Glacier arrived at the edge of the main pack opposite Polarhav.
At first, progress was easy as Glacier threaded her way through the relatively open pack. Before long, however, the proportion of ice to water increased markedly and the floes became thicker and thicker. Except for a few leads and an occasional polynya (lake in the ice) which helped her in the right direction, Glacier resorted to bullying her way along with brute strength. Each advance called for full effort from the ten diesel engines supplying current to the two huge motors turning her twin propellers. Thus she forced her cutaway forefoot up onto thick, heavy ice, where the weight of the vessel crushed down through it. Less consequential ice was shouldered aside.
Glacier first made voice radio contact with the Belgians at a distance of 25 miles. Mr. Oliver S. Crosby, who was the official U. S. observer with the Belgian expedition, informed the rescuing vessel that all was well aboard Polarhav.
Because of the many icebergs in the area, the radar now was of no value in locating the Belgian ship. But by shooting a rocket high in the air, Glacier's crew showed Polarhav where she was and a correct bearing from one to the other was obtained.
In order to learn more about the situation aboard Polarhav, Glacier's helicopter was sent to pick up our observer. Arriving on board at two in the morning, Crosby immediately became the center of a group of interested men. As he was pumped for information, it became evident that he had something on his mind. He wanted a shower. Polarhav, it turned out, had no equipment for making water. She simply filled her tanks in one port and by careful rationing made the water last until she reached the next port. The ship’s designers had not figured on being stuck in pack ice for six weeks. For some time, the ship had depended on gathering snow atop the ice and melting it on the galley stove. This tedious method produced barely enough for cooking. Baths and washing clothes were out.
After Crosby’s pick-up, other helicopter trips were made between Glacier and Polarhav. Polarhav's predicament was dramatically evident from the air. Flying the Norwegian ensign astern and the Belgian and expedition flags at the fore, Polarhav lay on an even keel in the middle of a gigantic ice flow.
The few open leads in the ice were not sufficient to permit a vessel even as small as Polarhav to escape. The ice alongside the ship was well worn by men and dogs. Sizable mounds of trash and garbage gave mute evidence to the length of the imprisonment.
Inside, in the comfort of the small lounge, the helicopter visitors learned the full story of Polarhav's troubles. A chart upon which daily positions of the ship had been plotted showed how they had drifted steadily from their initial position, less than 30 miles from King Baudouin Base, to their present position, 140 miles to the west. At first they had hoped to work free, but finally with time and fuel running out, they had been forced to ask for help. They admitted ruefully that Polarhav had previously had bad luck in this same area. Last year, for a period of about one month, they had been stuck on the way out after discharging personnel and cargo for their base.
Everyone aboard, including the Norwegian crew, the 22-man wintering-over contingent, and the three summer observers appeared well and happy. To relieve the tension and monotony of being unable to move, the Belgians had developed the custom of eating four meals a day—three regular meals with the Norwegian crew and one special Belgian repast at 11 p.m. Many of them kept busy by hunting and killing seals on the ice in order to provide food for their sled dogs throughout the winter. Electing officials for a town council of an imaginary Penguin Hollow really gave them a chance to let off steam with campaign oratory of the most florid sort.
Progress, which had been difficult enough before, was now slowed still further. Glacier was marking her progress in yards. The best route appeared to be the direct one. This meant ramming the ice as far ahead as possible, until the momentum of the ship was finally stopped by ice friction, then backing down with heeling tanks in operation until sufficient sea-room was gained for another charge at the ice.
It took two full days of such tactics to reach Polarhav. The ice also exacted a price—one of the blades from the port propeller. Judging by the vibration of the port shaft, the damage appeared not to be too serious. Finally by eight o’clock on the morning of 4 February, Glacier pulled to within 3,000 yards of Polarhav; by noon, she was within 1,000 yards.
In the afternoon, the icebreaker reached Polarhav and, amid the shouting and waving of men topside, in the rigging, and in the crow’s nest, passed close aboard. Numerous cameras clicked aboard the big icebreaker to record the event. Glacier's whistle blew and Polarhav answered in approved fashion, then gravely dipped her flag in the custom of the sea to a passing man-of-war.
With the little Polarhav following close astern, Glacier made good progress up the return track, until she reached sections that had again frozen over. Then it was necessary to have the smaller ship wait until a portion of the track was broken out and made ready. Polarhav, though her Captain proved himself to be a skillful shiphandler, time and time again was stopped by the heavy ice blocks now lying in Glacier's wake. Repeatedly, the big vessel had to back down and direct her powerful screw currents against the bow and sides of the other vessel to free her from these hindrances. As the wind built up to 40 knots, the pressure of floes upon one another left little room for the displaced ice. Consequently, headway slowed to a snail’s crawl, and then the procession came to a halt. Both ships lay alongside each other while waiting for the advent of more favorable conditions.
With information on Glacier's difficulty, Admiral Dufek ordered Edisto, now finished with her mission at Ellsworth Station some 1,500 miles to the west, to proceed to the vicinity and assist Glacier.
Although Glacier and Polarhav had been halted, their crews were not idle. They filled Polarhav's empty water tanks, and then commenced transferring all the Belgian cargo— 340 tons of it—plus the expedition members and summer observers, to Glacier. When the opportunity offered, the icebreaker planned to escort Polarhav to the vicinity of Edisto and put her under the latter’s protection, while Glacier ran Polarhav's cargo through the ice to the Belgian base.
Finally all cargo and personnel were shifted. Conditions were not yet favorable enough to permit heading out to the north. Glacier, however, was informed that Edisto was now only 25 miles away.
Glacier then suffered another casualty. One of the big icebreaker’s helicopters (the other had been laid up for repairs in New Zealand) came a cropper while it was being tested after an engine change. Flying at 300 feet, the craft windmilled down in auto-rotation after the engine had quit cold. It landed on the uneven ice only to have its rotor hit a hummock, then shear through the tail section. No explosion or fire had occurred and no one had been hurt, but the helicopter was demolished. Glacier had lost her eyes, but there was a remedy—transfer one of Edisto’s helicopters.
The wind had now slacked off to a gentle 5 knots and the pressure in the pack relaxed hourly. It was time to try to break out. With the heeling system rolling the icebreaker down on one side and then to the other, the ship used the familiar ramming and backing tactics again. Polarhav followed as best she could.
They reached Edisto, and her commanding officer was given the task of escorting Polarhav to a position opposite the Belgian base, there to wait in the outskirts of the pack while Glacier went in to unload cargo and members of the relieving party, and to evacuate the men now at the base, the latter to be transferred to Polarhav on final rendezvous.
Lying-to in the ice pack has advantages particularly inviting to the crews of icebreakers. In any kind of sea an icebreaker acts like a metronome, rolling her scuppers under with a regularity that reduces the men aboard to a condition of bare survival so that even the standing of routine watches becomes an unpleasant chore. Her barrel-like bottom, with no outside keel and her relatively short length are mainly responsible for her unkindly motion, but these characteristics are a requirement for ice-breaking. Transiting the open sea, one might say, is only a means toward an end for an icebreaker, that of reaching the ice areas where she can perform efficiently. In the ice, the sea is perfectly calm no matter how hard the wind blows, since the ice acts like a breakwater. The ice, if not penetrated too far, can be a haven for a ship, a place of quiet where she can ride out a storm in comfort. This was the reason for having Edisto and Polarhav lie to within the ice pack.
At about 2330 on 13 February, Glacier got underway for the Belgian base on a course of 100° true. Soon the outlines of the two other ships merged in the fog and lowering visibility. Glacier never left the pack; excessive rolling might have damaged some of the cargo now piled high topside.
The run in proved relatively easy, except that gales and snow made navigation difficult. Glacier was in voice radio contact with the Belgians ashore, but their small base at King Leopold Bay could not be found. Finally, during a momentary break in the snow storm, a rocket from Glacier was sighted by the crew of a Belgian Sno-Cat watching from an ice headland. Then as Glacier held her bow against a section of low ice in the shelf, many of the Belgians on board leaped ashore and others ashore leaped aboard. Both groups were glad to be getting on with the job at last and seeing old friends again.
At the suggestion of the Belgians, Glacier now shifted berth to another bay where fast- ice was still known to exist. On arrival at the new berth, the icebreaker spent 16 hours breaking out a channel in the six-foot-thick ice, then moored to the ice with the aid of deadmen and ice anchors.
A heavy snowfall driven by 40-to-50-knot winds prevented the unloading of cargo. Early next morning, on 18 February, after an evening of about two hours of darkness, the wind abated enough to allow the first of the station’s Sno-Cats to start hauling away loaded sleds to an intermediate depot five miles distant, about halfway between the ship’s position and the Belgian base.
Meanwhile, Edisto, having escorted Polarhav to a position outboard of the base, was ordered to proceed to Buenos Aires so as to permit the recently evacuated personnel from Ellsworth Station to fly home. Edisto's crew made their first liberty in three months.
In spite of falling snow and indifferent visibility, cargo unloading continued uninterruptedly, with the icebreaker’s personnel tending ship’s cranes, cargo holds, and cargo sleds, and the Belgians hitching loaded sleds to one of the five Sno-Cats, or to the smaller Canadian Muskeg vehicle. These were driven away to deposit the cargo at the midpoint depot, there to be identified, sorted, and stacked in neat piles for later transportation to the base.
The sea threatened again on the 19th. In the late afternoon, swells began breaking up the layer of solid ice in the little bay. Progressing from seaward, the open water crept to within 200 yards of the ship before stopping. Unloading continued while ice wardens kept wary eyes open for further treachery.
On the morning of the 21st, the job was finished. All cargo from Glacier had been transferred either to the cargo depot or to the base itself. All that now remained to do at the base was to effect the change of command and Glacier could be underway with the relieved party.
At four in the afternoon, with de Gerlache, the relieved Belgian commander, and his party cheering, a few dogs barking, and several Emperor Penguins in cut-away fuel drums squawking from topside, the big ship pulled away from her berth in the ice. The men left behind waved. Soon, they were small specks in the distance. About 12 months hence they would be greeting an incoming ship with a new relieving party. Until then they would be undergoing one of the greatest experiences in their lives.
Early next morning, on 22 February, Glacier moored alongside Polarhav. Due to intervening ice a gangway could not be rigged. A crane and cargo nets were therefore pressed into service to transfer men, dogs, penguins, records, and gear. Then goodbyes were said and it was all over. When the once formidable pack ice was reduced to slush upon a heaving sea, we parted company, Polarhav heading toward Capetown and Glacier toward South America.
The following morning Glacier received a final message from Polarhav: “THE CONTINUATION OF SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH IN ANTARCTICA WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE FOR BELGIANS IN 1959 AND THE RELIEF OF THE 1958 EXPEDITION WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE WITHOUT THE HELP OF USS ICEBREAKERS STOP IN LEAVING THE LAST ICE FLOES BEHIND US BEG OF YOU TO SHARE WITH ADMIRAL DUFEK MY DEEPEST GRATITUDE FOR THE WONDERFUL HELP GIVEN US BY THE U.S. NAVY BT
SIGNED / G DE GERLACHE”
Glacier soon was sent back to the United States to have her damaged propeller repaired.
Another Call for Assistance
The Governor of the Falkland Islands now clarified the nature of British difficulties in resupplying their bases and requested aid through diplomatic channels. The Chief of Naval Operations instructed Admiral Dufek to render all possible assistance. Four of their bases were in urgent need of assistance. Many of the wintering-over men had already spent two years in the Antarctic, quite enough to warrant a chance again at the blessings of civilization. Thirty miles of impenetrable fast-ice off some of their southern bases— more ice during a summer season than at any other time in history—was the principal cause of their troubles.
Admiral Dufek ordered Northwind, which at that time had just reached Port Lyttleton from the Ross Sea area, to proceed to the aid of John Biscoe, a research and supply ship operated by the Falkland Island Dependencies Survey.
As Northwind approached the Palmer Peninsula from the west, she encountered opposition by the same ice pack Glacier had met during January. Heading directly towards the Falkland Island Dependencies Survey bases, Northwind, about 75 miles from the coast, fought her way through gales, low visibility, and heavy ice. She finally reached John Biscoe, near Base “J” on the Graham Coast, and began to lead her out. Then, on the evening of 7 March, Northwind reported that all was going well and it looked as if no further assistance would be required.
Later, however, the situation reports from Northwind, then in Marguerite Bay, began to reveal deteriorating conditions. A shift of wind, coming now from the north, brought fog and a tightening of the ice pack. The ships were prisoners, shackled by huge ice floes that refused to swing apart to provide a lane for their escape. Being so late in the season, it was an alarming situation.
Edisto Back into the Ice
A few days later, Edisto, in Buenos Aires, received the message she had been expecting. “SITUATION REPORT ELEVEN MY 120001Z X CONDITIONS SAME X EXPECT PROGRESS WHEN WIND MODERATES OR BECOMES EASTERLY X PRESENT WEATHER INDICATES LIMITED FLYING TIME AVAILABLE FUTURE OPERATIONS X NOW CONSIDER EDISTO HELICOPTER SUPPORT NECESSARY TO ASSURE COMPLETION MISSION WITHIN REASONABLE TIME X”
Next morning, Friday, 13 March, an ominous day, Edisto sailed with the tide. Returning to the Antarctic, after having once gotten free of the ice, was almost like putting a man back into prison after he had escaped.
Late on 19 March, Edisto met the first of the ice pack. She ran out of the ice again next morning and for a few hours rolled and pitched heavily in high seas, rolling as much as 40 degrees. The crew was glad when the ice loomed ahead again on the southern horizon, for that meant calm seas in spite of the strong winds. The icebreaker continued on, making excellent progress until 22 March, when she was forced to lie to and await more favorable conditions. Matha Strait, the agreed rendezvous point, was still 35 miles to the eastward.
Northwind and John Biscoe still had been unable to move from Marguerite Bay, about 100 miles south of Edisto. Their situation was, of course, more precarious than Edisto’s because of their more southern location. Four days later, with favorable winds, the two ships were able to enter a shore lead that had developed along the west coast of Adelaide Island and work their way up to the entrance of Matha Strait. They now awaited better flying weather before starting helicopter operations to relieve Base “W,” 25 miles away, across fast bay-ice. Edisto, west of Matha Strait, was able to close the distance so that the two units of ships were only 18 miles apart.
At first, it seemed obvious that the task of relieving Base “W” would result in serious trouble. Due to the distance involved—30 miles from ships to base—the only feasible method of transport was by helicopter. Most of the time, though, an onshore wind brought fog and snow and prevented flight operations. And during the brief periods of good visibility, gales whistled down the glaciers. Fifty-knot winds had almost proved the undoing of two of Northwind1 s helicopters while they had sling cargo attached. It was therefore agreed that Base “W” should immediately be evacuated by the station’s dog teams, each sled to bring out personnel, gear, and records only. By four o’clock of the second morning, the last dog team of six swung into sight, grew in size, and then was put aboard the 1,500-ton John Biscoe. Soon she and Northwind were underway to rendezvous with Edisto. The wind swung around to the south, bringing cold, but clear, weather and loosening the pack. The three ships joined up in a lead off the end of Renaud Island on 4 April. But two other Falkland Dependencies bases remained to be relieved and supplied, “A” and “F.”
By the evening of 5 April, the ships had fought their way into French Passage, 18 miles from Base “F” in the Argentine Islands. Next morning, however, helicopter reconnaissance showed that impenetrable ice barred further advance in this direction. The ships reversed course and steamed back over their track, already starting to close. They would have to proceed north, creep around the west coast of Anvers Island, and attempt to come down through the inside passages.
What had a short time before seemed so difficult, now became surprisingly easy. With scarcely the need to break ice at all, the armada swept up the west side of the 30-mile island, turned east into Dallmann Bay, and entered Scholaert Channel. Then swinging south, the ships passed through the de
Gerlache Strait into Neumayer Channel.
These waters are like the fjords of Norway, but on a more spectacular and grand scale. In almost perfect weather, the ships glided smoothly along between towering walls of ice and granite with hardly a ripple on the cobalt blue waterways. Steaming at a steady 11 knots, the ships pushed ahead in confidence as their fathometers recorded depths sometimes greater than 200 fathoms.
As the sun went down and the shadows crept across the fjords, the group arrived at Port Lockroy, a small rocky harbor on Wiencke Island, site of Base “A.” In the growing darkness, Edisto carved out a channel for John Biscoe to enter and unload.
All night, base personnel and ship’s crew worked, so that at first light, the vessels were ready to move on. The second day in the inland passage was even more dramatic than the first. LeMaire Channel surpassed anything yet encountered. The twin peaks in the narrowest section reflected themselves with such remarkable clarity on the calm water that pictures taken at the time can be held up either way with one being scarcely aware of which are the reflections.
By mid-morning the force was off Base “F,” and the British began unloading operations at once, using man-hauled sleds for transportation of equipment and supplies.
North and Home
Next morning, the last job completed, all ships turned northward up the inside passage. Shortly before noon, Northwind was released and directed to proceed home by way of the west coast of South America. She had been at sea so long that her store had run out of soap, cigarettes, and candy bars. In a burst of speed she passed Edisto. Both ships blew their whistles in a final salute.
Edisto and John Biscoe continued up de Gerlache Strait, heading for Deception Island in order to meet the British research vessel Shackleton to transfer 15 Britishers who were to go back to England after having spent two lonely years in the Antarctic.
It was now 10 April, very late in the Antarctic season. Edisto headed north and pointed her bow towards Buenos Aires, a port where the men resolved to get some of the cold thawed from their bones.
In this present age in Antarctica, exploration and observation have been given a transfusion by the International Geophysical Year. Icebreakers, planes, and powered snow vehicles—relatively new inventions—have aided tremendously in developing a new era in Antarctic history. No more is it necessary for a ship or base to be left at the mercy of the elements. Even so, rescue and assistance operations are sometimes slow because of the implacable nature of the Antarctic. Make no mistake about it. There are moments when ice is perverse and when no power in the world can prevail upon its stubbornness.
“Genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains.”
NAPOLEON
A graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy in the Class of 1931, Captain McDonald earned his aviator’s wings and served aboard Langley and Saratoga in 1934-36. During World War II, he was Commanding Officer of USS Hooey (DMS-11) and USS Wren (DD-568). He served on the staff of Commander, Western Sea Frontier, and later commanded the icebreaker Burton Island (AG-88). In July 1956, he became Weddell Sea Task Group Commander of the Navy’s Antarctic Operation Deepfreeze II. Captain McDonald is at present Deputy to Rear Admiral David M. Tyree, USN, Commander Naval Support Force, Antarctica. He was also in charge of the two Bellingshausen Sea Missions which included the icebreakers Glacier and Burton Island (1st), and Glacier and Staten Island (2nd).
*A pictorial by Captain McDonald on the Bellingshausen Sea Operation appeared in the September 1960 Proceedings, page 97.