-Caveat Lector-
Chapter Six
The Journey Begins
The first ship to leave its home port was the icebreaker Northwind,
casting off from the Boston Navy Yard on November 25, 1946. On the 28th she
arrived at Norfolk, VA and joined the flagship Mount Olympus, seaplane tender
Pine Island and destroyer Brownson for final preparations. Finally, on
December 2, all was ready. Shortly before noon, Admiral Byrd went aboard the
Mount Olympus for a final lunch with Dick Cruzen. Afterwards, Byrd stepped
ashore and announced that he would wait to sail on the carrier Philippine Sea
some thirty days later. Byrd appointed Paul Siple to represent him as the War
Department's chief representative on the expedition and with that, the Pine
Island cast off, to be followed shortly thereafter by the other three ships.
The tiny fleet moved down the Roads, past Old Point Comfort, Cape Henry and
finally into the open sea where they abruptly turned south for their
10,000-mile voyage to Antarctica. December 2nd also found the ships of the
Pacific Fleet pulling away from various California ports: the seaplane tender
Currituck and destroyer Henderson from San Diego, the oiler Cacapon from San
Pedro and the cargo ship Yancey from Port Hueneme. The cargo ship Merrick was
still busy loading gear and would pull out of Port Hueneme on December 5. The
Atlantic Fleet sailed around Cuba through the Windward Passage and across the
Caribbean to Panama. On December 7, the four ships passed through the canal,
docking at Balboa on the Pacific side. Waiting for them was the submarine
Sennet and oiler Canisteo, since they had previously been assigned to the
Central American station. By December 10 all the ships had arrived and as
they left Panama behind, the ships fanned our over many hundreds of miles as
they made their voyage south.
Chapter Seven
Operations in Antarctica
The Central Group Activities
The Central Group rendezvoused at Scott Island on December 30, 1946, in
order to follow the Northwind through the pack ice into the open waters of
the Ross Sea. The modern icebreaker is one of the most distinctive and
remarkable vessels ever designed. And from this distinctive group of ships
came the hardest working vessels of their kind: the Wind-class sisters built
during and just after World War II. A total of seven were built by the
Western Pipe and Steel Company of San Pedro, California. However, four of
them were sailing with a Soviet flag in 1946-7 as part of the lend-lease
program with the Soviets, and the last ship was not returned until 1952.
(When the American crew arrived at Bremerhaven to take over the ship,
subsequently renamed Staten Island, it was in horrific condition. The ship's
desk drawers were crammed with rotting tins of fish and the flight deck area
was smeared with chicken blood and feathers. It would take two cruises to the
Arctic before the stench would disappear). Of the three remaining vessels,
only the Northwind was immediately available, as the Burton Island was still
in service and the Eastwind was scheduled for service in the Arctic. By
default, the Northwind would mean success or failure as the thrust began.
When it became apparent that the ice presented a serious danger to the
Sennet, the submarine was towed back to Scott Island. The remainder of the
group reached the Bay of Whales on January 15, 1947, with the Northwind
breaking out a harbor in the bay ice for them. Over the following two days,
landing parties went ashore and selected a site for Little America IV,
somewhat north of Little America III, the West Base of the 1939-41 US
Antarctic Service Expedition. Construction of the base and accompanying
aircraft facilities commenced immediately thereafter. Quite an assortment of
vehicles were used in this undertaking, including tractors, jeeps, weasels,
bulldozers and other tracked equipment. On January 21, young sailor Vance
Woodall, from the Yancey, was working on the ice in the unloading area when a
tractor nearby picked up a load of snow roller sleds to move in to the
barrier cache area. The D6 tractors were proving too heavy to ride on top of
the snow that lay on the surface of the bay ice. In order to gain sufficient
towing purchase, the drivers had to let the steel treads plow into the snow
until reaching the hard ice. As a result, one tread would often grip the ice
before the other, throwing the tractor violently from side to side until both
treads took equally. The official accident report states that Woodall
unfortunately caught both his right arm and head in the slats of the roller
just as the tractor suddenly lurched ahead. Woodall's spinal column was
severed "high in the neck" and the navy veteran of only seven months died
instantly. By February 6 Little America consisted of a multitude of tents, a
sole Quonset hut, three compacted snow runways and a short airstrip made of
steel matting. At one point, the number of persons stationed at the base
approached 300, but eventually this number had to be greatly reduced so that
the remaining individuals could be readily evacuated by the Burton Island.
Meanwhile, shortly after noon on Thursday, January 2, 1947, the carrier
Philippine Sea, with Admiral Byrd on its bridge, slowly pulled away from the
pier at the Norfolk Navy Base as bands played and the local command saluted
farewell.
The Philippine Sea had been finishing up a shakedown exercise off
Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, when orders were received that she would be
participating in Operation Highjump. The brand new ship hurried north with an
exuberant crew cheering the news . . . this was certainly more exciting than
routine shore leave in Hong Kong or Panama! But what a task they had before
them. Since she would be going through the canal, changes had to be made in
the hull and flight deck structures. A massive shipment of parts for twenty
sleds came in from the Supply Office of the Boston Navy Yard and quickly
assembled for use by the Byrd party. A quantity of "Byrd cloth" was shipped
in "for the construction of various items of cold weather clothing and
equipment". An HO3S1 helicopter was flown aboard along with approximately one
hundred tons of miscellaneous equipment for use by the other ships
participating in Highjump. Next came the six R4D transport planes. They were
obviously too big to be flown in at sea so it took a little imagination to
get them aboard. Since there was no landing field adjacent to the dock, a
mile-long swath had to be cut right through the middle of the naval base,
from the field to the docks. What a site it was as drivers had to "pilot" the
planes through the narrow pathway, with sailors sitting on the wings to
prevent a sudden burst of wind from picking the plane up and hurling it
against the sides of buildings, fences and machinery, often within inches of
the wingtips. Last aboard would be Byrd, just hours before shoving off.
The Philippine Sea reached the Canal Zone on January 7, 1947, and the
next day started the slow journey through the locks. Byrd and his men
departed Balboa for the Antarctic on January 10. The ship steamed south at
twenty knots toward Scott Island. By January 22 the vessel had reached
58�48'S, and "it was assumed icebergs could be encountered during the day".
One of the helicopters was readied for takeoff and as it lifted from the
deck, the pilot neglected to gain further altitude before veering off to the
side of the carrier. As the copter swept over the port side, the sudden
down-wash of wind, together with the loss of the flight deck surface as a
cushion, sucked the aircraft right into the water. Fortunately the pilot
bailed out and was rescued by a lifeboat. On January 25, they rendezvoused
with the Northwind, Cacapon, Sennet and Brownson near Scott Island. Four days
later, on January 29, the first two R4D's successfully took off from the
flight deck of the Philippine Sea for the risky flight to Little America IV;
Admiral Byrd was aboard the first plane. By January 30, all six R4D's had
arrived safely at Little America IV. The carrier's objective had now been
completed. Carrying the only outbound mail from Highjump ships during their
Antarctic deployment, the Philippine Sea turned and headed for Balboa, Canal
Zone. She arrived there on February 18 and ten days later was back at Quonset
Point, Rhode Island.
Back at Little America, every opportunity was taken to keep the aircraft
flying. Several photographic missions were flown, including a two-aircraft
flight to the South Pole on February 15-16. A final flight attempt was made
on the 22nd, but was turned back due to poor weather, thus terminating Little
America-based flight operations for the expedition. On the ground,
investigations were conducted in the immediate vicinity of Little America. A
tractor party departed Little America for the Rockefeller Mountains on
February 12, but had to return prematurely to the base a week later due to
the impending evacuation.
Finally completing shakedown trials, the Burton Island departed San
Diego, California at 1530 hours on January 17, 1947. By February 6 she had
reached the northern edge of the Ross Sea pack. Two days later she contacted
the ships of the Central Group at 72�S and delivered mail for these vessels.
On February 13 she headed for McMurdo Sound, arriving on the 16th, where she
acted as a weather station until the 20th. Following this duty, she steamed
for Little America to commence evacuation of the base. The Burton Island
reached Little America on February 22 and evacuation operations commenced
immediately. The remaining base personnel boarded the icebreaker shortly
thereafter, and she departed the Bay of Whales on February 23, 1947.
The ships of the Central Group took various routes on the homeward
journey. The Merrick received extensive rudder damage from the ice floes and
had to be towed by the Northwind back to Port Chalmers, New Zealand, for
repairs. All the ships had taken a significant amount of abuse from the ice.
The bows and sides of the flagship and cargo vessels Merrick and Yancey
became severely dented, as rivets were sprung and propellers damaged.
Nevertheless, they all made it back. The Merrick was in drydock for a month
but eventually sailed north on March 22, 1947, arriving in San Diego on April
12th. Meanwhile, the Northwind, Mount Olympus and Burton Island departed
Wellington, New Zealand, on March 14, 1947. The Northwind arrived in Seattle,
Washington, on April 6, 1947. The Burton Island arrived at San Pedro,
California, on March 31, 1947 and the Mount Olympus slipped through the Canal
on April 7th and arrived in Washington, D.C. on April 14. The Yancey had a
more interesting return voyage. She departed Port Chalmers on March 5 and
arrived at Pago Pago, Samoa, on the 11th. She left Samoa on the 27th and
steered for Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, with the Navy YTL-153 in tow. Under steam
at about 7.5 knots, she arrived at Pearl on the 14th of April. The long
voyage for the crew and ship finally ended on May 2, 1947, when they settled
into Port Hueneme, California. The submarine Sennet served as a stand-by
rescue vessel for the R4D flights from the Philippine Sea to Little America
through the 30th of January. On February 4 she set course for Wellington, New
Zealand. She left New Zealand on the 15th of February and arrived at her
mooring at Submarine Base Balboa, Canal Zone, on March 13, 1947.
The Western Group Activities
The Western Group rendezvoused at the Marquesas Islands on December 12,
1946, and sailing on parallel paths, they reached the edge of the pack ice
northeast of the Balleny Islands on Christmas Eve day. The Henderson and
Cacapon fanned out to serve as weather stations while flight operations from
the Currituck began on December 24. Perhaps Dufek and his men struggled with
the Antarctic elements off the Thurston Peninsula, but Captain Charles A.
Bond and his Western Group were blessed by comparison. Their primary weather
problem was related to fog. Additionally, considering that none of the
sailors aboard the three ships and ever seen Antarctic service before, things
couldn't have gone much better. Captain John Clark of the Currituck wrote,
"The acute personnel situation then current in the Navy by reason of the
demobilization fully affected this vessel". Of major concern was the
Engineering Department, where the inexperienced men "were encountering
numerous difficulties with all phases of the plant. The ship was to continue
to be handicapped by critical personnel shortages throughout the entire
operation". The handling of the PBM's were a concern, too. "A continuous and
searching analysis was made of all phases of plane handling". Clark was
acutely aware of the special weather conditions encountered in the South
Polar region and the need to "reduce all plane handling times to a minimum
except crane operating time and that of actual fueling from the ship's side,
which were, or course, uncontrollable". With much practice, the plane
handling time was actually cut by two-thirds.
A few flights were attempted but fog continued to plague them until New
Year's Day, 1947. The fog lifted and the first mapping flight of about seven
hours was flown along the Oates Coast with complete success. Free from
fighting the elements his colleague Dufek was encountering, Bond was able to
concentrate his attention on mastering the weather. "The ship was
continuously looking for good weather and for ice bays in the pack ice for
wind protection, being guided in the former by the aerologist's
recommendations". The pilots were encouraged and enthused by Bond's
leadership and the resulting accuracy of the aerology and radar tracking
teams, both on the Currituck and aboard the aircraft. Whereas the pilots at
Little America IV fought dense cloud formations rising to thirteen or
fourteen thousand feet, the Western Group, flying along Wilkes Land, found
that even if the overcast was dense, "ordinarily you would break out in the
clear soon. On the average the cloud layer wasn't any more than 4 or 5,000
feet thick with not too much icing . . . it would be absolutely clear on top".
Icebergs were encountered, but as Clark recalled, "Bergs were shown by
radar with fidelity and the ship maneuvered in and out among them easily".
Bond was pleased as significant air operations resulted in unquestioned
successes. After the seven-hour mission on New Years Day, flights were made
on the 2nd, 4th, 5th and 6th over the continent from their staging area in
the Balleny Islands. "Operations were eminently successful and a substantial
portion of the area assignment had been completed by this time". Their first
assignment completed, Cruzen radioed from the Central Group instructing Bond
to cease operations and sail the Currituck eastward to the vicinity of Scott
Island in order to reconnoiter for the Northwind and its bedeviled flock in
the Ross Sea. The Currituck reached Scott Island on the 10th and both patrol
planes flew reconnaissance missions on the 11th and 12th, but no leads could
be seen for their trapped colleagues in the ice below. Dismissed by Cruzen
after their unsuccessful air operations, the Currituck headed west again past
the Ad�lie Coast and on to Wilkes Land along the Sabrina, Knox and Queen Mary
Coasts.
PBM Landing at "Bunger's Oasis"
Unfortunately, no flights were possible between January 13 and the 21st
because of the huge northerly swell. On January 22 the swells at last
moderated and the weather remained acceptable for additional flights. Over
the next week, long and successful photomapping missions progressed to the
west. Suddenly, on either January 30 or February 1 (the record is unclear),
PBM pilot Lieutenant Commander David E. Bunger lifted from the bay and headed
south for the continent some hundred miles distant. At this time the Currituck
was off the Shackleton Ice Shelf on the Queen Mary Coast of Wilkes Land.
Reaching the coastline, Bunger flew west with cameras humming. Suddenly the
men in the cockpit saw a dark spot come up over the barren white horizon and
as they drew closer, they couldn't believe their eyes. Byrd later described
it as a "land of blue and green lakes and brown hills in an otherwise
limitless expanse of ice". Bunger and his men carefully inspected the region
and then raced back to the ship to tell the others of their discovery.
Several days later Bunger and his flight crew returned for another look,
finding one of the lakes big enough to land on. Bunger carefully landed the
"flying boat" and slowly came to a stop. The water was actually quite warm
for Antarctica, about 30�, as the men dipped their hands in to the elbow. The
lake was filled with red, blue and green algae which gave the lakes their
distinctive color. The fly boys "seemed to have dropped out of the twentieth
century into a landscape of thousands of years ago when land was just
starting to emerge from one of the great ice ages", Byrd later wrote. Byrd
called the discovery "by far the most important, so far as the public
interest was concerned . . . of the expedition". As early as 1947, men now
wondered if this was the first sign of global warming. As Paul Siple
disgustingly reported, discussion between the scientists as to the nature of
"Bungers Oasis" had not even begun "before the eleven press representatives
aboard the Mount Olympus had fired off dispatches to the outside world
describing the oasis as a 'Shangri-La' and implying that it was warmed by a
mysterious source of heat and might be supporting vegetation". Siple gave
high marks to the crew of the PBM for landing and making an attempt to
examine the lake, however Bunger "had no technical tools to examine his
find". He even had to guess the temperature of the water since no thermometer
was aboard. But they did have an empty bottle aboard which they filled with
water from the lake. Unfortunately, "the water in the bottle turned out to be
brackish, a clue to the fact that the 'lake' was actually an arm of the open
sea".
By the end of January, inclement weather had forced the airmen to skip
over the existing gap between 150�E and 145�E longitude, which later
expeditions would fill in. Mapping missions continued day after day covering
a 1500-mile long area between 141�E and 115�E longitude. Wilkes Land proved
to be a "featureless ice sheet that ranged from 6,000 to 9.500 feet above sea
level. No mountains were lofty enough to thrust their heads into the frigid
winds above this white blanket, although valleys and ridges in the ice
surface up to 100 miles inland gave a hint of rough terrain underneath".
The weather turned typically Antarctic as the first week of February
arrived. Seas became rough and snow storms frequent as flight operations were
limited to only three days during the month. During that time, the Currituck
sailed hundreds of miles around the coastline, from 115�E to 40�E longitude,
all around Wilkes Land, the American Highland fronting the Indian Ocean and
on to Queen Maud Land. When the planes were able to fly, outstanding results
would be the norm. These results would be of significant importance in the
selection of base sites some ten years later during the IGY. On February 12,
when the Currituck was off the Princess Ragnhild Coast of Queen Maud Land,
pilots W. R. Kreitzer and F. L. Reinbolt lifted off in their PBM for a
routine photo mission to map 300 miles of coastline. What had previously been
drawn in as coastline now proved to be towering shelf ice rising high above
the sea. As they turned south, they suddenly discovered a range of
ice-crystal mountains, luminously blue against the dark sky, rising more than
two miles into the air. Flying near the mountain peaks, Kreitzer and Reinbolt
followed the range for nearly one hundred miles before turning back. One of
them later told Byrd, "It was like a landscape on another planet".
On March 1, the final flights were made in the vicinity of Ingrid
Christensen Coast. The Cacapon fueled the Henderson and Currituck on March 3
and all three ships sailed for Sydney, Australia, arriving there on March 14.
All three ships departed Sydney on March 20. The Currictuck arrived at the
Canal Zone on April 9, traveled through the locks and arrived in Norfolk,
Virginia on April 18, 1947. The Henderson entered San Diego Bay channel on
April 6 and the Cacapon arrived at San Pedro, California on April 8, 1947.
The Eastern Group Activities
Operations of the Eastern Group commenced in the vicinity of Peter I
Island, north of the Bellingshausen Sea, late in December, 1946. The Pine
Island reported a position near Swain Island on December 23 and on Christmas
Eve, the first iceberg was spotted. Without question, the Amundsen and
Bellingshausen Seas experience some of the worst weather conditions in the
world. To complicate matters with the Eastern Group, frequent foggy weather,
howling blizzards and stormy waters made aircraft launching and flight
perpetually hazardous. That portion of the global windstream that follows the
north / south axis is heated in the tropics and rushed toward the poles in
the upper atmosphere. The massive Antarctic ice cap cools this mass and as
the air descends, greater cooling takes place. The frigid, cold air is
deflected outward once it reaches the Pole. The natural rotation of the earth
drives the air mass toward the coastline from a southeasterly direction,
often creating hurricane-force winds in the process. Between Cape Leahy and
Cape Dart and in the area around Mount Siple in the Amundsen Sea vicinity,
this frigid howling windstream often slams head-on into a southward-heading
warmer air mass blowing in from the lower Pacific. As a result, a cyclone is
created which spins eastward along Ellsworth Land and through the Amundsen
and Bellingshausen Seas, gathering velocity as it races up the base of the
Antarctic Peninsula across Charcot Island and Marguerite Bay before finally
dissipating along the tip of the peninsula or at sea in the Drake Passage.
Heavy swells and frequent snow squalls plagued the Pine Island until the
weather suddenly improved and cleared in the afternoon of December 29. PBM
George I was lowered over the side and fueled without difficulty and shortly
after 1:00 p.m. the plane lifted off the water on the first flight to
Antarctica with Lieutenant Commander John D. Howell as pilot and Captain
George Dufek as observer. Within hours, George I radioed back that weather
conditions were favorable for mapping operations over the continent and so
George 2 took to the air later that evening. When George I returned at 11:05
p.m., a third flight was scheduled with an entirely new crew. This flight
left at 2:24 in the morning of December 30 (it was, of course, daylight 24
hours / day), with Lieutenant (jg) Ralph Paul "Frenchy" LeBlanc at the
controls. His co-pilot was young Lieutenant (jg) Bill Kearns. The rest of the
crew consisted of navigator Ensign Maxwell Lopez, Aviation Radioman
Second-Class Wendell K. Hendersin, flight engineer Frederick W. Williams,
photographer Owen McCarty, mechanic William Warr, Aviation Radioman
Second-Class James H. "Jimmy" Robbins and lastly, the skipper of the Pine
Island, Captain Caldwell.
As George I flew southwest at four hundred feet above the ice, the
weather "looked anything but promising", as Kearn's later wrote. The plane
flew for three hours before picking up the coastline of Thurston Island (then
called the Thurston Peninsula). Co-pilot Kearns took over the controls from a
very tired LeBlanc and took the plane up to 1,000 feet in altitude.
Unfortunately, the plane began picking up a great deal of ice. The bow
station Plexiglas froze over and the cockpit windows frosted over despite all
efforts with on-board de-icing equipment. The plane suddenly entered an "ice
blink", streams of sunshine trapped beneath the clouds, bouncing off the snow
"in a million directions, as if each ice fragment were a tiny mirror". To
make matters worse, a fine, driving snow obstructed the surface below.
Puzzled in their predicament, the altimeters began giving different readings
and as the wings began to ice up, Kearns turned to LeBlanc and said, "I don't
like the looks of this. Let's get the hell out of here!" LeBlanc nodded in
agreement and as Kearns gently banked the plane, all on board felt a
"crunching shock" that "reverberated all along the hull". The plane had
obviously grazed something so Kearns immediately applied full throttle as
LeBlanc gave full low pitch to the propellers to aid pulling power. Both men
pulled back hard on the yoke and George I began to rise steeply. Then the
"flying boat" blew up.
The plane had literally blown apart. Three of the men were dead and the
others crawled into what was left of the fuselage to lay stunned and bleeding
for hours. The explosion had lifted co-pilot Kearns right out of his seat,
whose seat belt was unfastened for the first time in all his years of flying.
He flew right out the cockpit window, headed straight for the starboard
propeller and somehow missed the blade and instead fell harmlessly into the
drifting snow. Landing like a ski jumper, Kearns fell head-over-heels down a
slope and when he awoke from his daze, "I was all in one piece -- just full
of pain and nearly frozen". All but one of the crew had been blown clear of
the wreck. Captain Caldwell had been riding in the nose of the plane when he
was pitched out the window and into the snow. His wounds were relatively
minor: a cut across the nose, several chipped and loosened teeth and a broken
ankle. McCarty had a 9 1/2" gash in his scalp which knocked him unconscious
for about an hour. He woke up to extreme pain in his right hand caused by a
dislocated thumb and when he went to stand up, he could not lift his leg.
Warr had suffered only a small cut on his scalp and radioman Robbins came out
of the ordeal with only post-crash shock. The other four men were not so
lucky. LeBlanc was still in the shattered and burning cockpit, his body held
in the grips of his seat belt. Flames from the burning aviation fuel were
licking at LeBlanc's body as Kearns reached the wreckage first and rushed
through the fire to undo the seat belt. As hard as he tried, Kearn's stiff
shoulder wouldn't allow him to set LeBlanc free. Robbins rushed forward to
assist and between them, LeBlanc was finally freed. Kearns, Robbins and Warr
used their gloved hands to beat the fire out that was consuming LeBlanc's
body. Kearns later recalled, "Frenchy's face, arms and legs were burned black
and were already starting to swell. He was only half-conscious, writhing in
pain and muttering unintelligibly". LeBlanc was covered with a parachute and
the search resumed for the others. It was a gruesome find. The official
report states that Hendersin died instantly of "extreme multiple injuries"
and that Williams went about 2 1/2 hours later from the same trauma. Lopez
was decapitated ("traumatic amputation of the head"). These were the first
men to ever die on an Antarctic expedition connected in any way with Richard
E. Byrd.
Sketch from Jim Robbins' unpublished Antarctic Mayday *
Admiral Byrd later wrote of the absolutely terrifying experience this
must have been. None of them had ever been to Antarctica before the crash and
even though some of them had experienced similar flying conditions in the
north polar regions, "One is generally introduced to Antarctica by degrees,
and even then it is awe-inspiring. But these young men came out of their daze
-- woke up, as it were -- lying on the continent and in one of its most
uninhabitable spots. It was like dying and coming to life in another world".
McCarty wrote a farewell letter to his family. He figured they'd be found
someday and he wanted his wife to know what had happened. For a day and a
half the survivors slept or talked as though dazed by drugs. Incredibly,
LeBlanc tried to cheer everyone up as he called to McCarty, "Now don't you
worry, Mac. Just take it easy. They'll come and get us out of this mess".
LeBlanc's pain finally drove him into delirium as he staggered to his feet so
that he could "go below and see Doc Williamson". Kearns and the others gently
helped him back into his sleeping bag. The men used the remaining section of
fuselage as a shelter for the rest of their ordeal.
"Plane number one CW and voice call George One Captain Caldwell flight
crew number three overdue since 30 1945 Z. Accordance rescue doctrine have
made preparations for search and rescue". This message was radioed to Cruzen
in the Central Group. Unfortunately, inclement weather stubbornly refused to
allow for search flights. At the crash site, New Year's Eve was celebrated
with Warr and Robbins scouring the wreckage for food. A little dried fruit
was all that could be found. The next morning they awoke in a better mood and
Robbins was able to find more food, frozen solid, along with a frying pan,
pressure cooker and some canned heat, possibly enough for a few hot meals.
After breakfast, McCarty looked through the wreckage for his wedding ring
which had come off in the crash -- he found it. On January 2, the snow
finally stopped. More food was discovered in the wreckage, enough to ensure
survival for quite some time. The aircraft, in Kearns words, was "a virtual
flying laboratory, carrying radar and other equipment far more elaborate than
old-time explorers had dreamed of. Nine cameras were set up within her huge
frame. Her emergency supplies included food packets, sleeping bags, field
tents, medical equipment, and a survival sled. Within the sled were stored
additional rations, warm clothing and small arms". The next few days broke
clear and cold. On January 5, LeBlanc's condition had deteriorated as a
supply of fresh water was now becoming a problem. LeBlanc's hands had swelled
and his face had become covered with a hard, black crust. His legs and back
had been left with a mass of angry burns. LeBlanc's biggest problem was
dehydration and even though the men tried to keep a cup of water next to
Frenchy, it would freeze in a matter of minutes. Huge quantities of snow were
melted by the Coleman stove in order to obtain only a mouthful of water. This
ordeal and daily suffrage would continue until January 11.
Operations aboard the Pine Island were frustrating, at best. On New
Year's Day, George II was lifted over the side but a dense fog suddenly
rolled in. The plane was tied up to the stern by a 300-foot line and at two
the next morning, disaster struck. The swells swung the plane around and
thrust it into the side of the ship, extensively damaging a wing tip,
de-icing boot and aileron. By January 5, George II had been repaired and
George III assembled for backup. Both planes were lowered over the side and
once again the fog rolled in. Finally, the weather cleared and that afternoon
a test flight was ordered. It went off without a hitch and later that evening
a search was made over the last reported position of George I but they
returned to the ship "because of increasingly bad weather". The following day
weather conditions allowed a second flight, but once again the mission was
scrapped due to fog and snow. Snow, fog and heavy swells continued to plague
the search efforts until the 9th, but even the search that day was turned
back due to "very unfavorable weather". Good fortune would finally smile on
Dufek and his men on the morning of January 11. At 4:30 a.m., George II,
flown by Lieutenant (jg.) James Ball and Lieutenant (jg.) Robert Goff, was
hoisted over the side. It lifted from the water at 7:00 a.m. and flew off in
the direction of the continent. Later, at the crash site, Kearns suddenly sat
up and shouted "Airplane!" They struggled out of tents and the plane and
there, on the horizon, was Ball's PBM. Everything that could burn, especially
the raft, was dragged out of the plane. They waited and waited and two hours
after the first sighting, Caldwell cried, "There she is, lads!" Robbins
dropped a match on the pile of debris which sent a tall column of smoke high
into the sky. The PBM rocked its wing and the men went hysterical, dancing
and jumping in the snow. However, the ordeal was not over.
Supplies, including food, clothing, cigarettes, bedding, a rifle and
ammunition, even two quarts of whiskey, came floating down by parachute. Then
the survivors wrote a large message on the blue wing of the plane, letting
those above know that Hendersin, Lopez and Williams had been killed.
Meanwhile, co-pilot Goff of George II looked to the north for a landing spot.
A few minutes later they returned and dropped a message in a sardine can,
"Open water ten air miles to north. If you can make it on foot, join hands in
a circle. If not, form straight line. Don't lost courage, we'll pick you up".
"Let's go," Kearns said, and all but LeBlanc joined hands.
Ball and Goff, still overhead, were low on fuel and would have to return
to the ship. No problem, as Lieutenant Commander Howell was already on his
way in George III. Soon Howell was overhead dropping additional supplies to
the men below. George III then went back to the shore and landed some two
miles out. Conger and Howell loaded a sled and supplies into a life raft and
gently lowered themselves into the sea for a brisk row to shore. Once ashore,
the sled was loaded and the two men headed off into the interior. It was
difficult going and as the two men trudged onward, the weather got colder and
colder. Fog rolled in and the possibility of disaster loomed larger and
larger. The survivors pushed their way along through huge snow drifts and as
the fog drifted in ever closer, the men of George I dropped to the snow in
exhaustion. Suddenly all heard a pistol shot. Robbins stood up and saw two
figures moving toward them, dragging a sled. As Howell and Conger made their
way to the six, they could not believe what they saw. Exhausted, bearded,
battered men stood before them, overcome with pain and emotion. Howell
quickly got the men moving. By this time, the fog had engulfed the plane and
to make matters worse, it started snowing. The return trail was not marked
and soon the earlier sled marks and footprints were covered. But fate stepped
in at the last moment and the party suddenly arrived at the edge of the shore
where they now would wait impatiently for the fog to lift. As it turned out,
they would have to wait eight hours for the fog to lift enough for George III
to be guided in. All were rowed out to the plane and several hours later the
PBM was carefully hoisted aboard the Pine Island. All would recover but
LeBlanc's legs would be amputated two weeks after the rescue aboard the
carrier Philippine Sea.
On January 18, the Pine Island rendezvoused with the Brownson and
transferred the crash survivors, who were then taken to the Philippine Sea
for transfer back to the United States. Further photographic flights from the
Pine Island were initiated on the 23rd, covering the Getz Ice Shelf to the
vicinity of Thurston Island. Early in February the ship moved to the
northeast of Charcot Island and flights were made to Charcot and Alexander
Islands and Marguerite Bay. Intentions were to land a party at Charcot Island
but the shifting pack ice prevented any possibility. Vessels of the Eastern
Group were ordered to proceed to the Weddell Sea on February 14, but
unsatisfactory weather prohibited any worthwhile photographic flights. By
March 4, the Eastern Group had departed Antarctic waters, arriving at Rio de
Janeiro, Brazil on March 18, 1947. The Pine Island departed Rio on March 24
and arrived at Cristobal, Canal Zone, on April 6. The next day she transited
the Panama Canal and remained in drydock at Balboa, to replace a port screw,
until leaving on April 11. Her arrival date in San Diego is unknown. The
Brownson departed Rio on March 24 and arrived at Norfolk, Virginia, on April
8, 1947. The Canisteo departed Rio on March 23 for the United States. On the
25th, she set an independent course for Ascension Island after refueling the
Pine Island and Brownson. The official narrative for this ship does not
describe the log entries beyond the date of March 25, therefore the return
date to the home port in the States is not known to this writer.
Chapter Eight
Summary
The greatest achievement of Operation Highjump was its acquisition of
approximately 70,000 aerial photographs of the coast of Antarctic and
selected inland areas. But what was expected to be a mapmaker's dream turned
out to be a cartographic nightmare when a large percentage of the photographs
were rendered useless due to lack of adequate ground control points.
Fortunately, this matter was rectified the following year by a much smaller
expedition, Operation Windmill, which succeeded in obtaining most of the
needed ground control points. Thus, Operation Highjump was not denied its
rightful place in the history books as one of the more productive Antarctic
expeditions.
Four brave men gave their lives on this expedition. The crash of the PBM
and the death of three crewmen ignited a venomous conflict between "Byrd's
boys" and the regular navy. Embittered relations between the two groups would
last for more than twenty years. In Byrd's three previous expeditions, not a
single life was lost. He and his comrades had taken every precaution to see
to it that all men would return safely. Foolhardy risks were simply not taken
by Byrd. Paul Siple later noted, in paying tribute to the admiral of the
Antarctic, that Byrd invariably preferred a live failure to a dead success.
Now the navy, perhaps calloused by the many lives lost during the war, had
let three men die on their very first major venture into Antarctic
exploration. Highjump had certainly been a rush job, with preparation and
training at a minimum in order to race the men and ships south into polar
training conditions as quickly as possible. An operation of this nature,
particularly due to its size, was bound to contain risks so it is really
quite remarkable that more crashes hadn't occurred. All things considered,
this expedition was a huge success and thanks to its accomplishments, the
ground work was layed for modern day scientific exploration on the ice.
* Although it is assumed there are only written accounts from two of the
survivors (Pilot Bill Kearns and Photographer Owen McCarty), a third account
actually exists. Written by Radioman Jim Robbins, Antarctic Mayday is a
heartwrenching story of courage and faith in his own words. This story has
never been published and only a few copies exist but fortunately Mr. Robbins
has presented me with one for publication on this web site, so be sure to
read this compelling story.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
RECOMMENDED READING:
"Assault on Eternity", by Lisle A. Rose
"Operation Deepfreeze", by Rear Admiral George J. Dufek
"Americans in Antarctica 1775-1948", by Kenneth J. Bertrand
"Moments of Terror: The Story of Antarctic Aviation", by David Burke
BIBLIOGRAPHY:
"Assault on Eternity", by Lisle A. Rose
"Americans in Antarctica 1775-1948", by Kenneth J. Bertrand
"Chronological List of Antarctic Expeditions and Related Historical Events",
by Robert K. Headland
"Ice Cap News", the Official Journal of the American Society of Polar
Philatelists. HIGHJUMP information courtesy of Joseph Lynch, Jr.
"Moments of Terror: The Story of Antarctic Aviation", by David Burke
-----
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