Under the Ice

“So sorry that I have to run like this. Lieutenant. Remember now, stay away from those guns. See you in the UN, Comrades!”

Flooring the accelerator, Kharkov was thrown backward as the snowmobile lurched forward. Yet he quickly regained control and, before turning for the northwestern horizon, whipped past the remaining vehicles and put a bullet directly into each snow cat engine cowling.

“Damn!” cursed Jack Redmond, as he violently kicked the snow at his feet. Looking on impotently as the Russian disappeared behind a distant ridge, he angrily cried out to his men.

“Will one of you stop gawking and go see if he’s left us with an operational snow cat

As several of the men sprinted off to fulfill this request. Cliff Ano walked over to confer with Redmond.

“So it was the Russians all along,” offered the Inuit.

“We should have figured that they’d go and try to pull something like this off.”

“But why all this useless bloodshed?” returned Redmond.

“And what’s so important about that damn black box anyway? I’m sure Ottawa was eventually going to give it back to the Soviets once we had a chance to check it out. Why not wait until then?”

The perplexed Inuit could only shake his head.

Then one of the men screamed out behind him.

“The snow cats are finished, sir. All five of them have bullet holes right through the engine block.”

This revelation was accented by the report of a distant gunshot. Each of the commandoes turned to search the northwestern horizon where the Russian admiral had last been seen fleeing with his hostage.

Seeing this, Akatingwah let out a wail and began sprinting out through the snow to determine her husband’s fate.

As Cliff Ano ran out to grab her, one of the Rangers called out excitedly.

“We’ve got more visitors. Lieutenant! This party’s coming in from the northeast on foot!”

“Pick up your rifles, and form a defensive formation along that snow ridge,” ordered Redmond.

“If it’s more Russians, this time we’ll teach those Red bastards what the fear of God is all about!”

After retrieving his binoculars from the storage compartment of his disabled snow cat Redmond took up a position on an elevated hummock and attempted to identify these new intruders.

“There’s five of them altogether!” he informed his men.

“But they don’t seem to be carrying Kalashnikovs. Instead, they’re armed with Ml 6’s!”

Cliff Ano had calmed down the distraught Inuit by this time. He left her in the care of one of his associates, and joined Redmond on the hummock.

“Lieutenant, I’d like to volunteer to follow that Russian’s trail. I could use the dogsled, and find out what that shot was all about.”

“Permission granted,” returned Redmond.

“But if you smell the least bit of trouble, get back here on the double, and we’ll move in with some reinforcements.

This squad’s been hit hard enough as it is.”

“Will do. Lieutenant,” answered the Sergeant-Major, as he ran down to his sled and got the dogs moving with a snapping crack of his whip.

With Ano gone, Jack Redmond called Private Etah to his side.

“Private, you’ve just been made a corporal. I want you to pick out two of the best marksmen that we’ve got. Position them on this hummock. I’m going to leave you in charge while I go down to find out who these newcomers are.”

“But isn’t that a risky proposition. Lieutenant?

Why not wait until they come to us?”

The grizzled veteran looked the young soldier directly in the eyes and retorted.

“Now that you’re a corporal, I’m going to share with you leadership rule number one — never question an order from a superior officer. Do you read me, soldier?”

“Yes, sir!” answered the Inuit.

“Just be careful, Lieutenant.”

Touched by the youngster’s concern. Jack Redmond slung his rifle over his shoulder, walked down the hummock, and began to make his way over the adjoining plain. Cliff Ano’s barking team could still be heard in the distance, though the sled itself had long since disappeared behind a sloping ridge.

With the two sharpshooters providing cover fire from behind, Redmond plodded through a deep snow drift, jumped over a narrow fissure, and without unstrapping his weapon, called out to the rapidly advancing party.

“Hello out there!”

This remark was met by a friendly wave, and a deep voice that boomed out in perfect English.

“Hello to you, whoever you are!”

Jack increased his pace at this point, and all too soon made the acquaintance of Captain Mathew Colter, commander of the US Navy nuclear attack submarine Defiance, and four of his shipmates.

There was a look of relief on the Canadian’s face as he explained both his mission and the tragedy that had just taken place on the plain behind them. Yet he was genuinely shocked to learn that the Americans had been sent here for the very same reason that the Arctic Rangers had. And for all their trouble, the Russians had beaten the lot of them!