Under the Ice

Though the prudent thing for Jack Redmond to do was to wait for the enemy to run out of ammunition and then order his men to attack, this tragic loss caused something to snap deep inside the veteran.

Blinded by anger and the need for instant revenge, he cried out passionately.

“Back to the snow cats men! We’re going in to eliminate that bunch of scum right now!”

A unified cheer arose from his men as they scrambled back to their tracked vehicles. To the high-pitched whine of the igniting engines, Redmond addressed the occupants of the two snow cats that were parked beside him.

“We’ll charge straight in at them, at full throttle.

Then at the last second, you’ll pull off to the right, and I’ll go left. This should cause just enough of a diversion for Private Etah to lob in a grenade and take them out. Can you handle that, Private?”

The Inuit who was seated in the back of Redmond’s snow cat answered without hesitating.

“Just get me within range, sir. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Then let’s do it!” cried Redmond.

“And properly revenge our brothers who just gave their lives so that Canada can remain free!”

After snapping the snow cat into gear, the enraged veteran opened up its throttle and the vehicle jumped forward into the deep snow. Only when he was certain that the other two vehicles were close behind him did he floor the accelerator and steer toward the beckoning berm.

Oblivious to the hail of gunfire that whined overhead and ricocheted off his snow cat nose, Redmond ducked his helmeted head down beneath the windshield and continued on an unswerving course.

Only when the snow cat was so close to its goal that he could actually see the muzzle flashes of the gunfire aimed their way did he briefly touch the brakes.

This allowed the two pursuing snow cats to catch up with him. The Rangers in these vehicles had long ago put their weapons into play, and just when it appeared that the three vehicles were going to smack right into the wall of ice, they abruptly separated as planned.

There was the briefest of pauses as the enemy was forced to readjust their line of fire. This was all the time Private Thomas Etah needed to pull the pins out of a pair of grenades and toss them upward over the berm’s bullet hole-pocked, sloped walls. A resounding explosion followed. Yet this blast all too soon faded to be replaced by only the buzzing whine of the tracked vehicles and the incessant howl of the gusting wind.

The five remaining snow cats rendezvoused beside the still-burning wreck of the vehicle that had once held their coworkers. The fire had been so intense little remained of the equipment or the four men who had manned it.

“I can’t believe it!” mourned one of the soldiers, who had been driving one of the two surviving snow cats of the original trio that took this route.

“Corporal Eviki was just trying to create a diversion for us to outflank them when this happened. My God, there’s hardly anything left to even bury!”

This macabre remark was met by the distant barking of dogs, and Sergeant-Major Ano could be seen on his sled passing by the igloo. A look of disbelief etched the Inuit’s face as he pulled the team to a halt beside them.

“What in the hell happened here?” quizzed the distraught commando.

“It was Corporal Eviki and three others,” returned Redmond painfully.

“I’m afraid they got a little too close and the snow cat took a direct grenade hit.”

“Damn it!” cursed Cliff Ano.

“They were only a bunch of kids.”

“Like hell they were!” snapped Jack Redmond.

“They were Arctic Rangers, and as such were well prepared to give their lives for Canada without question.”

“But what in the hell did they give up their lives for?” queried Ano, whose grief was very real.

Redmond sensed his subordinate’s shock and answered with a bit more compassion.

“That remains to be seen, Sergeant-Major. I hope there’s something left inside that berm for us to identify. We took it out with two direct grenade hits.”

“Maybe he can explain what’s going on here!”

shouted one of the commandoes, as he pointed toward a parka-clad figure who apparently had been buried beneath the snow beside a nearby dogsled.

“I bet you that’s the guy they were forcing at gunpoint to hook up that team,” offered Cliff Ano.

As this dark-haired, confused-looking man stood and began brushing the snow off his clothing, yet another newcomer emerged before them. This individual was armed with a pistol, and crawled out of the igloo’s entranceway, pulling two others along with him. Yet long before the Rangers could put their weapons into play, this white-haired stranger shouted out in broken English.

“I wouldn’t shoot if I were you, comrades. For if you do, these two will go with me.”

His hostages were a young woman and a small child. Both were Inuits. Though Redmond’s patience was running low at this point, he nevertheless instructed his men to lower their rifles.

Seeing this, the stranger once more voiced himself.