September 1962 marked the fifth anniversary of an event that, had it occurred one hundred—or even 50—years earlier, would have been entered in history books with the wonder, the authority, and the impact of such famous voyages as those of the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria. The event was the successful transit of ice-clogged Arctic waters by three ice-strengthened U. S. Coast Guard ships, the cutter Storis, and the buoy tenders Spar and Bramble. At conclusion of their Pacific-to-Atlantic voyage, the ships had sought out and transited a feasible Northwest Passage for deep draft ships.
The significance of this accomplishment, though given space in the U. S. and foreign press, was quickly buried in the barrage of other topical international events. The importance of the Passage, however, even five years later, has not decreased; it remains a monument to man’s determination, sparked by necessity, against the implacable forces of nature. It also puts a period to a centuries- long search.
The United States became interested in finding the Northwest Passage when it became expedient to erect a chain of Distant Early Warning Line stations in the Arctic areas. After formal agreements with Canada, the U. S. Air Force was given the task of building and manning the stations. The U. S. Navy was ordered to carry in by surface vessels the staggering tonnage of building materials, petroleum products, food, and other necessities, as well as the manpower to effect speedy construction. Later, when the stations were built, the Navy was held responsible for resupplying annually these Arctic outposts.
Because it was geared for just such a mammoth undertaking, the Military Sea Transportation Service gathered the vessels necessary, if they were not already under its operational control, and pushed through the forbidding waters of the north. With icebreaker escort, the thinner-plated cargo ships and tankers reached their various destinations. Some of them came back to U. S. ports a little chipped, punctured, or bent—the scars of repeated battles with the Arctic ice pack.
Problems and hazards were many, but not insurmountable. The eastern Arctic, once a reasonably safe sea route was carved out, and proved less troublesome than the western. After ships rounded the northernmost tip of Point Barrow, Alaska, on resupply runs to isolated stations to the east, commanding officers and ships’ masters found that their offloading time was limited. Permitted to navigate the icy waters only during the brief summer months when the ice broke up sufficiently to permit passage, they soon discovered that the heavy ice pack moved un- predictably. It broached the land or floated dangerously close inshore over a 400-mile stretch of coastline between Point Barrow and Herschel Island.
This capricious return of the ice effectively sealed off entrance to and exit from the western and central Arctic waters. It happened in 1955 and again in 1956. During the latter operation, several MSTS ships were caught to the east of the pack when it suddenly returned. The ships waited and, with the combination of luck, wind, and tide, the pack pulled back to the north. It was a momentary retreat, but long enough for the ships to escape. Within 24 hours after the last ship slipped by the point to safety, the pack returned and did not recede again until the next season.
Clearly, this was too close for comfort.
Vice Admiral (now Admiral, Retired) John Mylon Will, who then commanded MSTS, at once turned his thoughts to history as well as the compelling present. It was not only desirable but an absolute necessity to find a safe deep-draft Northwest Passage for his ships in event the ice off Point Barrow returned in a future season, before his ships could reach free water. He directed attention toward solving the problem.
Throughout history, attempts to find this elusive route have been frustrated repeatedly by the steel-like hardness of the Arctic ice pack. Many of the efforts terminated in tragedy.
Venetian Giovanni Caboto (John Cabot) was commissioned in 1496 by Henry VII of England to pioneer a search for a Northwest Passage. It was, of course, a commercial attempt, as have been most of the succeeding ventures. Cabot’s first expedition was launched in 1497 and his second the following year. Both were unsuccessful, but formed a firm basis for Great Britain’s later claims on the North American continent.
Repeated attempts were made to crack the ice barrier, only to be defeated. The area was unmapped, its waters uncharted. Much of today’s knowledge of it stems largely from events subsequent to the tragic death of respected adventurer-explorer Sir John Franklin and the decimation by hunger and exposure of the crews of his two ships.
Sir John made two land expeditions in exploration of the Arctic before he decided to try the seas. In 1845, he headed a waterborne probe comprised of the ships HMS Erebus and HMS Terror. Two years later, he was dead. By the end of the third year, the last of the 105-man party died on King William Island.
The fate of the expedition remained a mystery for ten years although world-wide concern sparked at least 40 expeditions in search for the missing Franklin. As a result of these efforts, many of the land masses and waterways were mapped; seven thousand miles of Arctic coastline were charted.
Three names emerge from the many, of those who participated in the various searches for Franklin: Dr. John Rae, Sir James Ross, and Lieutenant Joseph Rene Bellot (of the French Navy). They figured prominently in the 1957 search for the Northwest Passage.
Dr. Rae is credited with being the first to bring proof of Franklin’s death to the outside world. A veteran of many expeditions in the north, he explored and mapped seven hundred miles of coast, much of this by foot. During a sledging expedition from Repulse Bay, he learned from Eskimos that white men had been seen along the west shore of King William’s Island. The Eskimos had several articles proven to be possessions of Franklin’s crew.
Sir James, a nephew of indefatigable explorer Sir John Ross, also participated in the search for Franklin, heading one expedition and joining in others. His major claim to immortality was the chance discovery of the northern magnetic pole on Boothia Peninsula.
Lieutenant Bellot obtained a leave of absence from the French Navy in 1851 to join William Kennedy in the Lady Franklin-sponsored Prince Albert, sent that year in search for the missing men. Though unsuccessful in their primary mission, Kennedy and Bellot discovered and traced a small channel of water separating Somerset Island from Boothia Peninsula. Captain Kennedy named it Bellot Strait in recognition of the considerable services rendered by his second in command. Two years later, Bellot, with two men, was separated from his party and cast adrift on an ice floe. Though the two men were rescued, neither satisfactorily explained the absence of Bellot. His death has remained a troublesome mystery of the Arctic.
The small bodies of water named after these four men—Rae, James Ross, Franklin, and Bellot—provided the critical links in the chain of waters surveyed for and by the Navy’s MSTS in its efforts to find a deep-draft Northwest Passage.
Information concerning soundings and ice conditions of these isolated waterways was gleaned from various Arctic histories and journals. The Canadian government—in the joint U. S.-Canadian operation that followed —provided what information it had and placed at the disposal of Vice Admiral Will the icebreaker HMCS Labrador. The key link in the chain appeared to be Bellot Strait. Admiral Will flew over it in late 1956 for firsthand observation.
“Flying at low altitudes through Bellot Strait and its approaches,” he said, “I saw what I believe is a possible passage for cargo ships and tankers. We know the strait is normally ice-free in September and early October and that it has been traversed by a 12-foot- draft Royal Canadian Mounted Police vessel.
“Success of the transit depends, however, on whether the channel is deep enough for 16- foot-draft ships. If Bellot Strait is passable, I am confident that our ships will be able to complete the rest of the route with a minimum of difficulty. Finding a usable Northwest Passage will mean two-ocean access to any part of the Arctic now serviced by MSTS.”
Plans were formulated to prove or disprove the existence of the passage during the 1957 summer resupply operations. Requests from sailing masters were stacked at Washington headquarters. These skippers hoped to navigate thin-skinned cargo ships through the route. The requests were turned down for practical reasons. The job instead was given to the three small Coast Guard ships, placed under the operational control of MSTS for the season. These ships were to enter the Arctic from the western approach. The job of the Bellot Strait survey fell to the Labrador, providing the second prong of a two-pronged pincer push into the Arctic waterways. The Canadian ship was to survey the channel’s eastern approaches and make soundings of the strait itself as the three American ships wended their way from Alaskan waters, conducting hydrographic and oceanographic studies en route, in addition to taking soundings and erecting radar navigational reflectors. The story of Labrador's conquest of Bellot Strait provided the highlight of the 1957 Arctic operations, topped only by the successful transit of the three American ships.
It was 30 June 1957, and though the survey of Bellot Strait was nearly two months away, Captain Thomas C. Pullen, Royal Canadian Navy, commanding Labrador, started his officers thinking in that direction for the early formulation of plans. He discussed some of the channel’s known characteristics. Much of this information was an earlier attempt at Bellot by Labrador, on 22 September 1956.
In its first try, the icebreaker was blocked by ice at the eastern approach to the strait. Three days later, a second attempt was made and was also frustrated. It was on this same day that Pogo, the breaker’s sounding boat, discovered Magpie Rock, a submerged pinnacle that would have caught the icebreaker had she attempted to probe further. A strong current of eight knots was noted and Captain Pullen ordered a helicopter reconnaissance of the strait.
Before heading for home, a brief stop was made at Fort Ross, an abandoned Hudson’s Bay Company post on Somerset Island at the strait’s eastern approach. A message, dating and detailing the ship’s visit was left at the base of the post’s flagpole and the ship left the area. Unknown to him or the officers and men of the ship, Captain Pullen’s actions were closely watched by Eskimos who remained hidden until the ship’s departure. Asked by their government to be on the watch for any possible enemy invasions via an Arctic route during World War II, Eskimos obligingly acted as far northern sentries. As Labrador steamed north and east and home, the Eskimos took the note from the Fort Ross cairn and carried it overland to the nearest Royal Canadian Mounted Police post some thousand miles distant, alerting authorities of the “invasion.” Captain Pullen noted wryly that the message was forwarded to Montreal where it arrived before Labrador returned to Halifax.
In the weeks that followed the wardroom conference, Labrador and the U. S. icebreakers concerned themselves with the immediate problem of escorting cargo ships and tankers through the fields of ice to a number of Arctic destinations. The American ships encountered trouble early. On 16 July Storis, Bramble, and Spar had already rounded Point Barrow and were at position 70°04' North, 135°58' West off Mackenzie Bay south of Beaufort Sea, poised for entry into Amundsen Gulf and the start of the Northwest Passage.
On 23 July, Storis made helicopter reconnaissance to find a lead through Amundsen Gulf to Dolphin and Union Strait. From 31 July to 3 August, the three ships were beset. The terrible weight of the shifting pack ice forced Spar close to Storis so that they were nearly touching. Extraordinary seamanship prevented serious damage; the ships broke apart and pushed painfully toward Coronation Gulf. When the ships reached clear water, an underwater inspection revealed that this encounter with the ice had sheared one of Spar's blades. Low visibility and heavy ice dogged their transit, frequently forcing the ships to stop.
They pushed through Coronation Gulf into Deese Strait where, at Cambridge Bay area, they paused to anchor radar reflectors, drilling through the rocky tundra to find firm foundation for the steel bases of the tall towers.
During the last half of the month of August, the ships conducted hydrographic surveys in the Queen Maud Gulf area and Simpson Strait. On the 22nd, the ships were again beset. Men, lifclined to the mother ship and carrying ice axes, were lowered over the side via the ships’ booms. Ton and half-ton concrete blocks, normally used to sink buoys, were used to heel and warp the ships free. Occasionally, these blocks were used to pound stubborn ice, but they proved ineffectual when applied to heavy ice.
There was no communication between the American ships and Labrador until shortly before they met. The U. S. ships were at that time controlled by Rear Admiral Henry S. Persons, U. S. Navy, who commanded Task Force 5, the western sector of the Arctic resupply operation. The Canadian ship was responsible to Rear Admiral (now Vice Admiral and head of MSTS) Roy A. Gano, U. S. Navy, Commander Task Force 6.
On 16 August, Labrador completed her last assignment before heading for the Bellot Strait survey. By 20 August, she had reached Prince Regent Inlet and was heading south, arriving at the eastern approach to Bellot in the evening of the 21st. She anchored in Brentford Bay and early in the morning of the 22nd, Bellot Strait Survey Group was in full operation.
Shortly after breakfast, the pace quickened when “Pipes down” was passed over Labrador's intercom. Almost simultaneously, a number of things happened: two LCVP’s were lowered into the water, loaded with stores, boarded by assigned personnel, and cast off; Pogo and the ship’s motor cutter went through a similar evolution as the ship’s helicopters, two HUP’s and a Bell HTL-5, took to the air.
The first LCVP carried a stores working party and a number of assigned personnel who were to form a garrison at the abandoned Fort Ross post. This base was to function as a support base for small boats and helicopters. Piled into the boat were enough provisions to last 21 men 18 days, plus an emergency cache to last two weeks.
Upon reaching the rocky beach, personnel debarked and stores were offloaded. Close in the wake of the first boat, the second LCVP carried a mooring party, with gear and diver, and immediately set up three anchored buoys to accommodate Labrador's small craft in the area.
In the meantime, Pogo was victualled to capacity while the ship’s motor cutter ferried the Eastern Tide Pole Party to the beach southwest of the fort where the first gauge was established—a long white pole with painted black graduations in feet and inches. Tide readings were to be taken every 20 minutes at both the eastern and western approaches to the strait. The two boats later met at the eastern entrance and proceeded through in company, Pogo carrying the Western Tide Pole Party. These boats were required to run a minimum of four lines of soundings through the strait that day.
A scientist and the ship’s hydrographer boarded helicopters to effect initial triangulation and erect markers. Labrador's surgeon boarded a third in search of a fresh water supply for the garrison. One was found in a small pond a short distance from the fort.
Upon completion of all these assignments, Phase One of Bellot Strait Survey was completed. The operation was divided into five segments.
During the second phase, soundings were to be taken in the area north of Magpie Rock by Pogo and the motor cutter while Labrador sounded the eastern approaches. At night, oceanographic stations were to be occupied on a non-interference basis. This phase was scheduled to conclude upon transit of the strait by the Labrador sometime during the second day.
Phase Three was an expansion of soundings and oceanographic studies. Tidal current studies were also to be made, and additional leading marks erected.
In the fourth phase, Labrador was to meet with the U. S. Coast Guard ships at the western entrance and, after assigned oceanographic and hydrographic studies were completed, escort them through the strait.
In Phase Five, tide pole parties were to be recovered, the Fort Ross garrison embarked, and all boats returned to the ship. Labrador was then to escort the American ships into Prince Regent Inlet and release them when ice-free waters were met.
It was an ambitious project, but a necessary one if the Northwest Passage was to be found in 1957.
A portable radio transmitter and receiver, run by battery and operating on 2410 kilo cycles, was installed in the attic area of the garrison quarters. The garrison was directed to contact Labrador twice daily, at 0830 and at 1830. The radio achieved additional importance as the sole source of communication between the garrison and the ship when boat approaches to Fort Ross were blocked by ice, and weather conditions or range limitations would not permit contact by helicopter.
Late in the evening of the first day, one of the LCVP’s completed the tiresome job of shuttling between Fort Ross and the ship. Tired and hungry, the crew returned to the fort for food and berthing. All duties and responsibilities had been completed—without incident. Pogo and the cutter had made a round-trip through the strait, taking soundings. Both east and west tide pole parties were ensconsed as comfortably as conditions would permit. The garrison was established and operating. Labrador took oceanographic stations in Brentford Bay.
Though the sun was still shining at midnight, a cloud cover added to the chill in the air and wind picked up. The watchstander noted a thin white line penciled across the water’s horizon. He then returned up the rocky embankment, past the trading post building (now used for berthing transients), and along the eastward rock-lined path that led to the garrison quarters. Heat from the galley stove was a welcome greeting. The wind outside was from the northwest and, though light, was biting.
When next the tide was checked, it was noted that it continued to rise, that the wind had joined the race, and that the thin line on the horizon had swollen to a definite band which threatened to broaden. If the wind did not change or the tide did not abate, the ice would be carried close to the fort. The boats were still out of danger, but the question was for how long.
Coxswain of the LCVP, wakened by the tide pole watch, climbed out of his sleeping bag and into his clothes as the cutter crew was roused. The men hurriedly manned their boats and hastily cast off. Already the ice was upon them, pushed by the wind. They retreated deep into Depot Bay, almost out of sight. And as the tide watch was changed, the voices of the three seamen could be heard from the distance. Their voices, carried by the Arctic winds, could be heard at the fort, quietly disturbing the hush of isolation.
Early in the morning, ice had completely clogged the bay. Buoys, erected the day before, were torn from their anchorage. Crews of the LCVP and cutter were marooned. After morning contact with Labrador, the hydrog- rapher from the cutter explored the hills in back of the fort. Atop one, he discovered a cairn of piled rocks, inside of which were various messages. Earliest dated message found was one left by passengers from the HBC vessel Nascopie during September 1-5, 1937, when this ship met the 30-ton motor ship Aklavik upon the latter’s transit of Bellot and the subsequent establishment of Fort Ross. Perhaps the most intriguing message was one left by Mrs. W. A. Heslop. It read: “This is a record of my two years residence at Fort Ross. So far as is known, I am the only white woman to have wintered on Somerset Island.” It was dated 11 September 1942.
By late afternoon, ice conditions cased and further surveys in the Magpie Rock area of the strait were recorded by Pogo. At the same time, a number of beacons were erected to guide Labrador through the passage during her future transit. Aiding in the placement of these beacons was a new instrument, a tellurometer, used for the first time in the Arctic during this operation. The device measures distances by accurate measurement of radio waves beamed between two sets. Operating at 10 c/m wave length, the tellurometer consists of a master station and one or more remotes, each requiring an operator. The system is amazingly fast and astonishingly accurate. It reduces to a half-hour and two men a job that, with conventional equipment, would require 60 men and 25 days. Its margin of error is negligible. The device has since been introduced to Antarctic operations.
That night, Captain Pullen reached a decision. During the following morning’s radio schedule (Saturday, 24 August 1957), an anxious operator tried to contact the ship. “Labrador, Labrador, this is Fort Ross. Over.” It was nearing 0900 and the communicator had not been able to make contact. Finally, efforts to bring up the ship were abandoned in an effort to husband the limited energy stored in Fort Ross’ radio batteries. The garrison huddled over fresh-brewed coffee and discussed the silence of the mother ship. There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that Captain Pullen had taken her through.
Pogo led the way.
Two helicopters were airborne at 0830 to reconnoiter the strait. In the wake of the sounding boat, the white Arctic patrol ship entered the eastern approaches at 0900, maximum watertight integrity established and special sea dutymen and cable party at their stations. Four engines were on the line, with two standing by. Captain Pullen had the conn; coxswain Walter Brown was at the wheel. Labrador drew 28.5 feet. Within 12 minutes, the ship was in the line of soundings, stemming a 5-knot tide, bow to the west.
At 0920, the icebreaker passed Magpie Rock. On the bridge, Captain Pullen shook a triumphant fist at the single channel obstruction that had caused so much difficulty during survey of the eastern approaches.
At 0955, while hoisting Pogo aboard, Labrador recorded a depth of 50 feet, the minimum for the entire 20-mile passage. In other areas of the strait, depths greater than 160 fathoms were recorded.
The northernmost tip of North America— on Boothia Peninsula—was passed at 1021. Near here, ten-tenths ice was encountered, stretching for two miles. Eventually, it loosened and from then on, the passage was ice-free, or nearly so.
“The portion of our journey through the narrows was both impressive and safe,” said Captain Pullen later. “The high cliffs on each side were topped with low clouds, making of the narrows a tunnel.”
At 1118, Labrador cleared the channel. Captain Pullen radioed Admiral Gano: “Passage of Bellot Strait accomplished. Southbound in Franklin Strait.”
Before Labrador's initial transit of Bellot Strait this day, only five other vessels had done it—all of them small and of shallow draft. First to succeed was Fox, McClintock’s ship in September 1858. Fox was followed by the Fludson Bay’s M.B. Fort James (Bush in 1927), the M.S. Aklavik (Gall in September 1937), the M.B. Seal (Lyall in September 1939) and the RCMP schooner VGSR St. Roch (Larsen in August 1942).
During the afternoon, Labrador probed Franklin Strait to a point just south of Prince of Wales Island and found good water with only scattered ice. In the evening she returned to the Bellot area to complete the planned survey and establish permanent navigational reflector beacons. She had not by then been in radio contact with the American ships. In fact, their location was still unknown to Captain Pullen.
On the following day, oceanographic stations in Franklin Strait were completed. At noon, Labrador transited the channel to the east, arriving in Brentford Bay at 1500. Pogo concentrated in recording more soundings near Magpie Rock. Having then proven the existence of a practical channel, it was now necessary to develop it with standard survey.
Near-tragedy electrified all hands Monday, 26 August, when word was received that a flash fire had completely destroyed the tent and provisions of the Western Tide Pole Party. One man was injured.
Two members of the party were roused from their sleeping bags by the third who, while on watch, fortunately heard the motor of an approaching helicopter from Labrador.
The injured man was flown to Labrador for medical attention. An hour later, he was released from sick bay, after receiving treatment for first degree burns to the hands. A replacement was sent to the camp, along with a new tent and additional provisions. Unfortunately, the tidal records were lost in the flames. A portable stove was responsible for the blaze.
The day ended on a more pleasant note when Captain Pullen received a message from Vice Admiral Will. The Admiral said: “Again I am pleased to send Labrador my congratulations and another ‘Well done.’ (His first congratulatory message was sent upon Labrador's earlier discovery of a new, shorter, deeper channel into Frobisher Bay.) Your transit of Bellot Strait without incident is one more forward step in the establishment of the existence of a deep draft escape exit, important in Arctic resupply of Canadian and U. S. defense efforts.”
Labrador sailed north in Prince Regent Inlet on 27 August. Flying reconnaissance, Captain Pullen spotted a large anchor on Fury Beach on eastern Somerset Island. He landed to investigate.
The area was littered with relics believed to be from the wreck of HMS Fury which was caught in the ice 5 August 1825, and abandoned after Captain Hoppner offloaded his stores on the beach. Near the first anchor were five others, two cannons, a pile of chain cable, a number of ice saws, and 11 cannon balls. Scattered about were various bits of iron fittings, barrel hoops, a small amount of coal, and heaps of rusted nails. A representative selection of the articles was brought back to the ship to be given to the Artcic Section of the Maritime Museum in Halifax upon Labrador's return from the Arctic patrol.
The ship continued northward, toward Resolute Bay, Cornwallis Island, where the following day she delivered and received mail.
It was on the 28th that solar disturbances reached the peak of an 11-year cycle, forcing complete blackout of radio communications. Except for infrequent and brief relief periods, Labrador could neither send nor receive radio traffic. Further to the south, the American ships, now in the Queen Maud and Simpson Strait areas, were experiencing the same difficulties. It was not until 5 September that radio communications showed signs of steady improvement.
Pogo, in the meantime, continued operating in the Bellot area. In the morning of the 28th, she sounded more areas in the eastern approaches. Later, she proceeded to the center of the strait, erected markers, then returned to Fort Ross for the night.
This amazing little craft was named by Labrador's former commanding officer, Commodore O. C. S. Robertson, Royal Canadian Navy, a fan of the Walt Kelly comic strip. The boat proved herself a remarkable and valuable part of the survey unit. During the entire operation, she steamed approximately 600 miles, made about 350 miles of soundings, and accomplished, via horizontal sextant angling, 307 miles of visual fixing in the strait.
“Worthy of note,” said the officer commanding the sounding boat, “is the incredible keeness of the crew. There was never a word of complaint from anyone throughout.” In Pogo were an hydrographer, a coxswain, two seamen assisting in sextant angling, an engineer, and an electrician, in addition to the OinC. Quarters were close.
The boat carried a 60-h.p. diesel, an echo sounder (fathometer), a radar set for navigation, a transmitter and receiver for both voice and Morse, a 20-man life raft, a plastic ice skiff (“It’s light and fast, but difficult to maneuver”), a gyro compass, and a magnetic compass (“Which is useless in these latitudes”). The boat was normally provisioned for a maximum period of five days.
On 29 August, there was ice in the strait. Pogo had taken soundings as far as Bell Island when the ice thickened in size, weight and danger. Pushed by the wind and carried by the tide, the ice quickly closed in on the boat. It was impossible for her to reach either the Western Tide Pole Party or Fort Ross.
The ice was restless, shifting unpredictably. At times, it beset the boat, which attempted to keep 'moving. The situation remained critical throughout the night. None of the hands aboard got any sleep, kept on the alert to abandon at a moment’s notice. In the morning of the 30th, Pogo, tired and beaten, worked her way free and returned to Fort Ross. Her engine was out, and so was her gyro. Fog socked in. “It was a frustrating time,” said the OinC. “Nothing went right, nothing was accomplished . . . But thank God we’re here to worry about it.”
Vice Admiral Will was also worried about the ice. In a message to Rear Admiral Persons who still controlled the American ships, he radioed: “Following a briefing by hydro- graphic personnel today, my concern is growing with delay of transit from Matty Island to Bellot by the Advance Survey Unit (the Coast Guard ships). Request estimate date of chop (transfer to Captain Pullen).”
In Rae Strait, Commander Harold L. Wood, U. S. Coast Guard, commanding Storis, found a passage off the southeast side of Matty Island. There was good water, but many shoals were nearby. A 3-knot current pushed ice toward the ship, twice making retirement an expedient measure. By the 30th, southeast and east winds cleared the ice to the north, making an extension of his survey possible.
Accordingly, the ships were chopped. Bramble and Spar, on separate surveys, were ordered to rejoin Storis and preparations were made for the continuation of survey in the Matty Island area. Though the route was not as yet proven, there was a strong possibility of reaching Franklin Strait.
On the 31st, Storis established towers on the east side of the channel, marking it a base for further survey. It was on this day, too, that Labrador added more “firsts” to her already long list of accomplishments. After stopping at Resolute for mail, she continued southward through Peel Sound, conducting the first oceanographic studies made of the area. Upon reaching the western approaches of Bellot, she became the first ship to circumnavigate Somerset Island.
Pogo was returned to the ship for repairs. On the following day, 1 September, she went back to duty in Bellot Strait, running a new range of soundings. She broke down again west of Bell Island and was repaired again.
Bramble and Spar caught up with Storis on the 1st. Information was exchanged—and there was much of it, for the ships had been separated for a good number of days—and the men were paid. Plans were made to continue survey work in James Ross Strait. Only two ships had transited this body of water, Amundsen in Gjoa and Larsen in St. Roch, both of small draft. It was not encouraging to realize that these two ships had grounded in making the passage. And it was here that Sir John Franklin’s ships, Erebus and Terror, were sunk.
But all plans were altered suddenly. A man from Bramble was stricken with an attack of appendicitis. The American ships headed north as quickly as conditions would permit. Labrador was contacted and the aid of her medical officer requested. The porous, honeycombed underside of new-formed ice in Franklin Strait was churned under the weight of Labrador as she laid six on the line, bow to the south, toward the east side of Blenky Island in James Ross Strait for rendezvous.
On 2 September, Storis led the two buoy tenders through fog along the track of her previous reconnaissance. Commander Wood ordered the two smaller ships to anchor when fog thickened Bramble's radar was inoperative. The stricken man was transferred to the larger ship and Storis proceeded independently to join Labrador. If actual contact between ships could not be made in time, it was hoped they would close sufficiently to permit helicopter transfer. Unless the patient’s condition worsened quickly, the ships had 12 to 24 hours grace during which the patient would be kept under observation.
By that afternoon, fog lifted and the patient’s condition improved. Storis was then ten miles ahead of her unit ships. She gave them reports by radio and ordered them to come ahead. Ice was met at Cape Gloucester, forcing Storis to turn back. She expanded her track to meet the buoy tenders. Upon joining them, they proceeded, three abreast, to meet the Canadian icebreaker.
While Labrador raced to the stricken Coast Guardsman, Pogo continued hydrographic survey of the western approaches to Bellot, as far as Pemmican Island—and got into more trouble. She was prevented by close pack ice from sounding the strait. That night, she anchored at the western tide pole site. Fog again descended and, at 2345, the alarm sounded. “We just made our escape,” the OinC said. “At one point, the stern had actually been pushed into the beach. When we got into water again, we spent that night two- thirds underway, five miles off shore.” For the crew, it was another sleepless night.
On 3 September, the four ships rendezvoused in James Ross Strait, 17 miles northwest of Cape Victoria, Boothia Peninsula. Commanding officers of the American ships visited briefly with Captain Pullen, then proceeded at his direction to the survey work yet to be completed in the western approaches.
Pogo’s troubles were far from over. At 0530, the boat took soundings, completing the western strait to Bell Island at 2130. Winds had whipped up to a Force Five on the Beaufort Scale, tearing at the little boat with arctic fury. She labored her return to Fort Ross. Though all hands arrived safely, Pogo had lost a generator in the fight. The exhausted crew worked on repairs until 0330 the next day.
On Monday, 4 September Captain Pullen signalled CTF 6 (Rear Admiral Gano): “Task Group 6.5 now operating Bellot area. Transit of Bellot by (the American ships) is now assured. Peel Sound is also available as second, but less favorable alternative because of ice in Barrow Strait.”
A boat from Storis carried ashore a party of men to relieve the Western Tide Pole Party. The Canadian sailors returned to the Coast Guard ship and enjoyed their first hot shower in a week. They were fed and later transferred to Labrador.
On 6 September, the work was completed. Commander Wood reported to Captain Pullen that hydrographic commitments on the western approaches had been met. The ships nested in False Inlet overnight. That evening, Captain Pullen gave a dinner in the wardroom for officers of the American ships. Chief Petty Officers from the U. S. ships were invited to the Chiefs and Petty Officers’ mess, and lower rates to the crew’s cafeteria. To the Americans, this was the payoff. After transit of Bellot, they were over the hump and on their way home.
At 1045 the next morning, Captain Pullen held a conference with the commanding officers of the U. S. ships. Fifteen minutes later, Spar broke nest and got underway. At 1105, Labrador detached from the nest. At 1110, Bramble placed her motors on the line. And at 1120, Storis followed. The four ships effected evolutions to achieve proper position in the formation. Labrador's helicopters took to the air. Pogo was already over the side. At 1155, the ships entered the western entrance to Bellot Strait, Labrador leading Storis, Bramble and Spar, in that order.
The day was clear and moderate. At rare instances in the strait, scattered blocks of ice were encountered. At 1307, the ships filed past Magpie Rock. Eight minutes later, they proceeded independently. Transit of Bellot Strait had been made successfully. The ships anchored briefly in Brentford Bay as commanding officers stopped to visit Fort Ross and to sign a message recording the historic event. Later, this message was placed in the cairn found earlier by Labrador’s hydrographer.
The message read, in part: “On arrival in the United States waters the U. S. Coast Guard ships will be the first ships flying the Stars and Stripes, and the first squadron of ships, to accomplish the Northwest Passage.” Commanding officers signed: Bramble, Lieutenant Commander H. S. Carter, U. S. Coast Guard; Storis, Commander Harold L. Wood, U.S. Coast Guard; Spar, Lieutenant Charles V. Cowing, U. S. Coast Guard; Labrador, Captain Thomas C. Pullen, Royal Canadian Navy.
Released by Captain Pullen, the three U. S. Coast Guard ships proceeded north in Prince Regent Inlet, east through Lancaster Sound, and south in the Baffin Sea and Davis Strait to the North Atlantic. They were diverted near Argentia, Newfoundland, to assist in the search operations for a downed aircraft, but were released 24 hours later to proceed to Argentia to top fuel and pick up mail. Hurricane Carrie became a potential threat to the three ships, but fortunately, swung east into the Atlantic where it died.
On Tuesday, 24 September, Storis and Bramble pulled into Boston harbor at ten in the morning. Their arrival was timed with the arrival of Spar at her home port, Bristol, R.I. Bramble later continued to her Florida home port and upon her arrival there became the first U. S. ship to circumnavigate the North American continent in one full season.
Their accomplishment was summed up by President Eisenhower who radioed the Secretary of the Treasury: “In the course of their participation in this year’s Arctic sealift operations, these ships have contributed much to the knowledge of deep water navigation through the Arctic seas where a practical route has so long been sought. I know you are proud of the courageous performance of the Coast Guardsmen and the nation shares your pride.”
Through the efforts of these American ships, the Navy’s MSTS, and the Canadian government and icebreaker Labrador, mariners no longer fear for their safety in western Arctic waters. For them, an escape route is now available, tortuously carved out of waters that had resisted invasion by explorers for centuries.
There must be a beginning of any great matter, but the continuing unto the end until it be thoroughly finished yields the true glory.
Sir Francis Drake to Lord Walsingham, 1587