Evening Star Newspaper, September 13, 1931, Page 86

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, SEPTEMBER 13, 1931. Cheating Death in the Frozen South BY T. G. BRIDGES AND H. HESSEL TILTMAN. g ARLY in May, 1929, Sir Douglas Mawson, the famous Australian explorer, sailed from England en route for Australia, there to complete his plans for taking a new British expedition to the Antarctic. 0 8ir Douglas Mawson is one of the most distinguished living explorers—a man who not only knows the Great White South in her most relentless moods, but who has already experienced adventures enough on the ice bar- rier, the mere telling of which would fill a book. His first journey to the Antractic was as a member of the Shackleton expedition of 1907, wyn he made seve:al long sledge journeys and was one of the first party to climb Mount Erebus, the towering ice-covered mountain that rears its head 13,500 fect above the plateau. His next exploit was to set out, accompanied by Sir Edgeworth David and Dr. Forbes Mackay, to discover the South Magnetic Pole. The little band of intrepid explorers achieved their object after a jou:ney of over 1,200 miles of sledge travéling, in ilself a great feat of endurance. It was during the journey that Mawson first realized the possibility of further land exploration. Outposts had been thrown ashore by former expeditions at Cape Adair in the east and Gaussbe!g in the west. Between them lay a vast region far away from the track of any former expeditions. Upon the return of the Shackl:ton expedition in 1909 Mawson resolved to go south . . . in order to penetrate farther into the mysteries of the unknown region. To do so meant facing once more the ze:o temperatures, blizzards, treacherous ice fields—a hundred dangers—but the fascination was too strong to be resisted, and as soon as he could gather the necessary funds he purchased the s:zaling vessel Aurora and organized the Australian Antarctic expe- dition of 1911-1914. With stout hearts and high hopes the ship- load of explorers sailed away. As the coast line of Australia faded into the mists of evening and the Aurora turned her bow into the land of ice, how were those abecard to know that she carried two of that gallant band to their deaths Won the polar trail, and that another—Sir Douglas Mawson himseclf—before he saw the shores of his homeland again was to face death in its most painful foim alone in the awful sjlence of the empty south and escape its cold _breath only after one of the most terrible ordeals experienced in the history of explora- tion? Blron.l relating the story of this ordeal a word or two may be said about the condi- tions under which sledge journeys are made in the Antarctic. It is so easy to write, “They loaded up the sledges and covered 15 miles that day,” but the.reader who knows only that much cannot guess what it means to cover hundreds of miles in terrible weather without fresh food, and in constant peril of cold, snow blindness, terrible death or leave them to the lingering tartures involved in the endeavor to struggle on against impossible odds. During sledge journeys the only shelter avail- able as protection ag2inst the worst blizzards in the world is a light tent just large enough to accommodate three men.- Each man has a sleeping bag of reindeer skin, it having been found that fur clothing taken off in the morn=- ing upon rising is frozen too hard to put om again when night comes. The tent is sup- ported by five bamboo poles and is secured against the winds that sweep across the ice fields by piling snow against the outer rim. Before a party sets out provisions are carefully weighed out—so many ounces psr man per day 2¢and then packed in canvas bags, each con- taining rations for three men for a week. By tils mcans it is not possible to eat too much at the beginning of a journey without knowing it. Only one bag must be opened each week. Cooking is done by a lamp burning parraffin, and the only saucepans cariied are of aluminum, each of which when filled with ice gives just three pints of liquid. Sledging is a hard game at the best of times and every ounce of load counts, so before a start is made everything is cut down to the smallest possible compass. The sledges measure 12 feet Jong by 2 feet wide, drawn by dogs or men. Sails are carried which can be hoisted to lighten the labor of hauling when there is a light fol- lowing wind. Before siarting out the food is checked and rechecked, distances out and back are worked out carefuliy io make sure there is no error, for should the party meet disaster the men’s lives will depend upon what is packed upon the sledges. Everything is planned with meticulous care. Scientists at home have advised upon the rations needed; the stoves, tents, sledges, every- thing, have been tested again and again. It is difficult to believe that anything can go wrong. Usually it doesn't, for before a man goes south he is as fit as a fiddle, and before he goes on a long sledging journey he is usually experienced in ice work. But if something does go wrong— if some sudden peril threatens the little band— then death, grim and relentless, dogs their every step and is ever near—as near as it was to Dypuglas Mawson during the terrible journey whose story we are now to relate. Three men are trekking into the interior of the Antarctic Continent. With them are 16 dogs hauling three sledgas loaded with nearly 2,000 pounds of food and eguipment. The three men are Douglas Mawson, Dr. Mertz and Lieut. Ninnis. They are weeks out from their base, but the weather is good and all goes “according to plan.” And they are experienced explorers “who do not worry if the trail is long. Day has followed day without incident, each filled with same strain of pushing onward. From time time they have found themselves in a vortex of crevasses—cracks in the ice, often covered and concealed with a light bridge of snow. Sometimes the dogs izil through these crevasses, “The gallant man was suffering.” AS frugglé for Life in the Vast Ice Fields of the Antarctic Circle—Constant Battle With the Eternal Cold, Hunger and Loneliness. but the harness and the sledge held them up and they were rescued none the worse. Lunch at 12 noon. Camp at 6 for the night. Onward, onward, the temperature steadily rising and the sun quite warm for the south. But those crevasses are treacherous and so Mertz is ahead on skis to guide the sledges safely forward and to give warning of any danger. This is called “making the trail,” and as tha fate of the party and the siedges may depend upon due notice of danger, it is a responsible task. = One day Mertz stopped, and turning to face those behind, hcld up his ski stick—the signal for danger. Next to-him came Mawson, who looked around for signs of & crevasse, but found no irregularity in the ice and went on. Ninnis, the third man, was walking beside his dogs attached to the last slcdge. He heeded the warning and on reaching the stop indicated had swung his dogs around in order to cross the danger zone squarely and quickly. A few moments later Mawson saw Mertz stop and look back. Something in his attitude and the stillness of his figure caused Mawson to turn in his tracks. Behind him, where a moment before had been Ninnis and his dog team, was nothing but an empty expanse of glaring white snow. Third man, dogs, sledge— all had disappeared as surely as though the earth had swallowed them up. The dread phrase must havegoccuited to Mawson at that moment, but it was the ice which had swal- lowed them, not the earth. That silence, that empty waste, could mean but one thing— tragedy, sudden and complele. OR a moment the two survivors stood rooted to the spot. Then they hastened back along the marks of their trail, thinking that perhaps a dip in the snow obscured the view. A forlorn hope. The only thing that met their eye was a gaping hole 11 feet wide, where the snow bridge hiding the crevasse had fallen in and carried Ninnis to his doom. The two agonized men leaned over and shouted into the black abyss below. No sound came back, except the whining of a dog whose fali nad been broken on a shelf 150 feet below. Deeper down they could dimly see the tent +nd a package of food which had been strapped yn the sledge, but these were far beyond their ceach. The only rope with them would not stretch half the disiance. For hours they stood by that chasm of death, sticuting until they were hoarse, but no answer- ing sound came back. In such moments any action is a relief, however perilous. Had they a longer rope, Mawson would have descended into the blackness. As it was they were powerless. Heavy at heart, they at length turned mechanically to take stock of the situa- «on. . It was bad enough. Practically all the food had been packed upon the last sledge and had gone with it. The:e had not been one chance in a thousand of a sledge coming to grief on a trail over which two equally heavy sledges had already passed safely. Yet the almost im- possible had happened and the survivers found that they were left with barely 10 days’ pro- visions for themselves and nothing for the dogs. And they were 330 miles from the nearest food point. The position was one of extreme peril, but the shock of Ninnis' death affected the sur- vivors so deeply that they could not think about the lost food. One more shout into the chasm, one mote echo, and silence. Then Mawson read the burial service, and Mertz shook him by the hand with a brief “Thank you.” Then without looking back they both hurried away, the dogs were harnessed up, and once more they took the trail. Only a few hours before their hearts had been light at the prospect before them. Now it was to be a fight with death, and Providence would decide the issue. There were only six dogs left, and those miserable animals, the thinnest of all. The best dogs had gone with Ninnis, also other indispensable articles, including, in ad- dition to most of the food, the tent poles. Spare poles had to be improvised from sledge runners. Anxiously Mawson reviewed their prospects. .Providing the dogs were eaten, theie was still a fighting chance of winning through. Day after day they struggled on, while one dog after another collapsed. Their flesh was stringy and musty, without a vestige of fat, but the two men managed to eat it. * At last the sole re- maining dog collapsed. They carried its body on the sledge for some time, then its flesh was used_to keep them alive. How carefully they ladled out the emergency rations during these terrible days! Sledging is a long and hungry job. At the end of the day the sledge had to be unpacked and camp pitched. Then the cooker was filled with snow and the stove lit—often no easy matter for men whose fmgers were blistered with frostbites. The dog 1 eat would be placed in tQe boiling pot. Not a crumb was wasted. Sir Douglas Mawson has related how, in order to ensure fair division of the p:ecious food, the two men, after dividing the ration, would turn their backs and then one would choose the portion on the left or right, as the case might be. Thus they avoided jealousy, for man befomes very primi- tive when he is hungry and short of food. Day after day they struggled on in this fashion. When New Year day dawned they were still amid the eternal whiteness, and on that day a new danger appeared. Mertz com- plained that the dog meat was not doing him any good and suggested using the ordinary sledging food, which they had been holding back for emergencies. Twenty days after the loss of Ninnis Mawson realized that Mertz was really ill. Actually he was already sinking from sheer starvation. Gradually he grew worse. Then he collapsed and further progress was impossible, 5o Mawson pitched tent and settled down to nurse him. It was hopeless from the first. Mertz needed doc- tors, medicine, warmth, nourishing food—and fone of these things was available. Mawson did what he could, but how little it was! The end came suddenly. Mertz passed away on the eighth day after his collapse. For hours Mawson lay in his sleeping bag in a state of exhaustion. His own condition was now s0 bad that he felt he might also collapse at any minute. And added to all he was alone and almost without a crumb of food in a world of silence. Few men have ever faced such a catastrophe and lived to tell the tale. No wonder Mawson decided that there was little hope of reaching headquarters. Having decided that it would have been so easy to give in, to lie inside that warm sleeping bag and wait for the end. But a man without pluck does not go to the Antarctic, and with every bone aching Mawson crawled out, wrapped his dead comrade in his bag, piled blocks of snow over his body and raised above his tomb a rough cross made out of two sledge runners. HIS sad task completed, he set to work on the sledge, sawing it in halves with a pocket tool. Prom the discarded half he made s mast, then he cut down the load to the barest neces- sities for one man. A last look round, the read- ing of the burial service over a second comrade on that grim journey and he was ready to set out again. Before moving he took his position and found that he was about 100 miles southeast of Winter quarters. How short a distance for the vigorous men who had started out, but what a journey in that bleak land for a cold and famished man. On January 11 he started upon the long, Jonely trail. It is hard enough when there are companions to talk with—the silence of Maw- son’'s utter loneliness must have been a night- maré. After traveling for a mile his feet became s0 sore that he had to stop and examine them. They were blistered and raw. He bandaged them and put on six paits of socks. Over these he placed fur boots and crampons—steel-cut to give a foothold on the ice. Thus shod and in constant pain he struggled on day after day as though in a dream. He was dreaming of the food he never ex- pected to taste again when on January 17 he found himself dangling into space at the end of his harness. He had fallen down a crevasse, and abové the sledge, which had broken his fall and kept him in the world, was creeping nearer and nearer the edge of the chasm. Help- less, spinning in space, he waited for the end, but the sledge stopped. Providence had given him another chance. It was a small chance, considering his weax condition, but he seized it. A great effort raised him to a knot in the rope. To this he clung while he gathered strength to reach the next knot. At last he reached the overhanging snow lid of the crevasse, into which the rope had cut, and thought himself safe. But just as he was clambering out a further section of the snow lid gave way and once mote he fell the full length of the rope. Exhausted, weak and chilled, for his hands were bare and pounds of snow had fallen inside his clothing, he hung there with a presentiment that all was over. His strength was fast ebbing; only a supreme effort would save him and in a few minutes 1t would be too late. At all events he would do his best, and sud- denly new power seemed to be given to him. Inch by inch he struggled to the surface and at last emerged feet first, still holding on to the rope. He painfully worked himself out until his body was extended at full length on solid snow. Then, and only then, did he dare to relax his hold on the rope. For an hour he lay exhausted, wondering whether he would be strong enough to get going again, and whether the struggle with death was worth while after all. Was it better to enjoy life for a few days, sleeping, and eating the last fragments of provisions, or to plug on again in hunger with the prospect of plunging at any moment into eternity? Suddenly a great idea occurred to him. He would construct a ladder from the Alpine rope, one end of which he would secure to the bow of the sledge and the other he would carry over his left shoulder, loosely attached to the sledge harness. Thus if he fell into a crevasse again it would be easy, even though weakened by starvation, to scramble out by the ladder, pro- vided the sledge were not also engulfed. No time was to be lost and as soon as his strength permitted Mawson struggled to his feet. Day after day he pushed on through the wilderness of crevasses. Many times he broke through the snow lds, but each time he fell into a crevasse the ladder proved tiumps and he climbed out without difficulty. On some days only two or three miles were covered. It was gruelling work. At last came the day when the 3,000-foot crest of the plateau was crossed and Mawson looked down on Commonwealth Bay and safety. And on the morning of January 29, when the last carefully hoarded scrap of food had been finished, something loomed up through the drift of snow. A miracle had happened! A search party from the expedition had laid a food depot on top of a snow cairn—a bag of food and a tin' containing the bearing and distance from Aladdin’s Cave, the nearest inhabitable refuge, 23 miles away. The letter in the tin had been written the day before and contained news that the expedition ship had arrived and was waiting in the bay. It was a terriic moment for the man whe had cheated death by inches. Without thet Contiuued on Fifteenth Page