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Authors: Dean Crawford
Tags: adventure
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1956.
Ethan knew that McMurdo had become a center of scientific and logistical operations in the Antarctic. The Antarctic Treaty, signed by over forty-five governments, regulated intergovernmental relations with respect to Antarctica and governed the conduct of daily life at McMurdo for United States Antarctic Programs. The first scientific diving protocols were established before 1960 and the first diving operations were documented in 1961, with a hyperbaric chamber available for support of polar diving operations.
From his vantage point outside the Hercules aircraft as he trudged off the ramp, Ethan could see rugged hills and valleys through the dawn gloom, and a nearby slate and shale shore. The black water of the Ross Sea was encrusted with jagged chunks of ice and a large ship was anchored there, its deck lights blazing in the darkness.
‘Polar Star,’ Hannah said as she saw the ship, her breath forming dense clouds on the frigid air as she spoke. ‘That’s our ride, part of the US Coast Guard fleet.’
The Polar Star was a stocky, thick-hulled vessel, her paintwork red and white for high visibility against both the black water and brilliant ice floes. The ship’s bridge was almost a perfect cube, spinning radar dishes perched atop its lofty heights and glowing interior lights hinting at blessing warmth within. Nearly four hundred feet long and with a maximum speed of eighteen knots, Polar Star could continuously break six feet of ice at three knots, and could break twenty one feet of ice if backing and ramming, so Ethan had heard.
‘Let’s get the hell aboard then,’ Ethan said, glancing again at the bitter gloom surrounding them. ‘The less time I spend out here, the better I’ll feel.’
Ethan followed the SEALS and scientists as they trudged across the base, soldiers armed with rifles watching them and ensuring that they did not stray far from their assigned path toward the rugged, icy shoreline. Although McMurdo was as much a research station as a military outpost, the soldiers were under orders to shoot anybody who strayed too far. Bristling with sophisticated listening devices and other obscure military technology, McMurdo’s military contingent was still shrouded in Cold War secrecy.
‘There anybody else out here we need to worry about?’ Ethan asked as they walked, weighed down by their heavy backpacks.
‘The French have an outpost, Dumont d’Urville, about fifteen hundred nautical miles south of Tasmania, but they’re a long way from us,’ Hannah said. ‘Our plan, according to Jarvis, is to use Polar Star to break a channel across McMurdo Sound and make it to Ross Island and the station there as part of a standard resupply and refuel operation conducted every year at this time. We’ll deploy before Polar Star moves on.’
Ethan marched up a ramp resting on the ice that climbed up onto the ship’s deck, the vessel entirely surrounded by the ice sheets but its crew apparently unconcerned. He could see her captain watching as the SEALS hauled their heavy weapons and wheeled several strange vehicles aboard the vessel, clearly unhappy with the volume of military hardware suddenly appearing on his vessel. A tall, broad shouldered man with the rugged features of the experienced seaman, he extended a gloved hand.
‘Captain James Forrester,’ he introduced himself as Ethan stepped aboard the ship.
‘Ethan Warner. When will we get underway?’
‘As soon as you’re aboard,’ Forrester assured him. ‘We’ve established a link to your senior officer in Washington DC and your team will be briefed as soon as we’re on our way.’
Ethan eyed the captain uncertainly.
‘How many of the crew know why we’re here?’
‘None of them,’ Forrester promised, ‘and I’ve already signed a non-disclosure agreement. Our mission route is routine anyway, so it’s not going to raise any eyebrows with Ivan or any other of the research stations out here.’
Ethan smiled inwardly. It had been a
Ethan knew that McMurdo had become a center of scientific and logistical operations in the Antarctic. The Antarctic Treaty, signed by over forty-five governments, regulated intergovernmental relations with respect to Antarctica and governed the conduct of daily life at McMurdo for United States Antarctic Programs. The first scientific diving protocols were established before 1960 and the first diving operations were documented in 1961, with a hyperbaric chamber available for support of polar diving operations.
From his vantage point outside the Hercules aircraft as he trudged off the ramp, Ethan could see rugged hills and valleys through the dawn gloom, and a nearby slate and shale shore. The black water of the Ross Sea was encrusted with jagged chunks of ice and a large ship was anchored there, its deck lights blazing in the darkness.
‘Polar Star,’ Hannah said as she saw the ship, her breath forming dense clouds on the frigid air as she spoke. ‘That’s our ride, part of the US Coast Guard fleet.’
The Polar Star was a stocky, thick-hulled vessel, her paintwork red and white for high visibility against both the black water and brilliant ice floes. The ship’s bridge was almost a perfect cube, spinning radar dishes perched atop its lofty heights and glowing interior lights hinting at blessing warmth within. Nearly four hundred feet long and with a maximum speed of eighteen knots, Polar Star could continuously break six feet of ice at three knots, and could break twenty one feet of ice if backing and ramming, so Ethan had heard.
‘Let’s get the hell aboard then,’ Ethan said, glancing again at the bitter gloom surrounding them. ‘The less time I spend out here, the better I’ll feel.’
Ethan followed the SEALS and scientists as they trudged across the base, soldiers armed with rifles watching them and ensuring that they did not stray far from their assigned path toward the rugged, icy shoreline. Although McMurdo was as much a research station as a military outpost, the soldiers were under orders to shoot anybody who strayed too far. Bristling with sophisticated listening devices and other obscure military technology, McMurdo’s military contingent was still shrouded in Cold War secrecy.
‘There anybody else out here we need to worry about?’ Ethan asked as they walked, weighed down by their heavy backpacks.
‘The French have an outpost, Dumont d’Urville, about fifteen hundred nautical miles south of Tasmania, but they’re a long way from us,’ Hannah said. ‘Our plan, according to Jarvis, is to use Polar Star to break a channel across McMurdo Sound and make it to Ross Island and the station there as part of a standard resupply and refuel operation conducted every year at this time. We’ll deploy before Polar Star moves on.’
Ethan marched up a ramp resting on the ice that climbed up onto the ship’s deck, the vessel entirely surrounded by the ice sheets but its crew apparently unconcerned. He could see her captain watching as the SEALS hauled their heavy weapons and wheeled several strange vehicles aboard the vessel, clearly unhappy with the volume of military hardware suddenly appearing on his vessel. A tall, broad shouldered man with the rugged features of the experienced seaman, he extended a gloved hand.
‘Captain James Forrester,’ he introduced himself as Ethan stepped aboard the ship.
‘Ethan Warner. When will we get underway?’
‘As soon as you’re aboard,’ Forrester assured him. ‘We’ve established a link to your senior officer in Washington DC and your team will be briefed as soon as we’re on our way.’
Ethan eyed the captain uncertainly.
‘How many of the crew know why we’re here?’
‘None of them,’ Forrester promised, ‘and I’ve already signed a non-disclosure agreement. Our mission route is routine anyway, so it’s not going to raise any eyebrows with Ivan or any other of the research stations out here.’
Ethan smiled inwardly. It had been a
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