Under the Ice

The Mountie could only shrug his shoulders, as Redmond issued a crisp salute and turned for the lead snowmobile. With a practiced eye, the senior commando double-checked the gear that had been stored inside the locker located beneath the vehicle’s one-piece, molded-plastic seat. He counted four M16 rifles, a dozen clips of spare ammunition, a carton of field rations, a compact butane stove, and several tightly rolled, heavy woolen blankets. Satisfied that all looked in order, he slammed down the seat, locked it in place, and checked the dashboard-mounted fuel gauge. Finding the tank barely three-quarters of the way full, he turned and shouted.

“Corporal Eviki, you’d better top off these tanks until they’re overfull! It’s going to be a long way until we reach the next service station.”

While his alert subordinate sprinted off to the adjoining hangar to find a gas can. Jack Redmond inspected the storage compartments of the five remaining snow cats Each of the vehicles were packed almost exactly like his own, except for the last one in line. Instead of spare food or ammunition, this one held a single elongated crate. Inside this padded carton was a battery-powered directional receiver. Such a device would be needed once they reached their ultimate destination and began the search for the black box.

The sudden barking of dogs drew Redmond’s attention.

He looked up and expectantly scanned the compound.

The blowing snow made visibility poor. Yet as the barking grew progressively louder, he viewed the dim outline of a team of harnessed huskies headed toward him. Like a ghostly apparition, the dogs momentarily disappeared in a veil of thick, white snowflakes, only to reappear again, this time with a sled clearly visible behind them. Standing on the runners of this sled was a single figure clad in a fur parka.

With an expert snap of his wrist, he utilized a long, rawhide whip to motivate the team, whose frantic pace further quickened.

It had been a long time since Jack Redmond had seen such a team in action. During his childhood, dog sleds were a common sight, particularly in the wintertime. The arrival of the gasoline-powered snowmobile had signaled the doom of such a means of transportation, and today the sleds were all but obsolescent.

Memories of his childhood rose in his consciousness, and a grin painted Redmond’s face as the sled pulled to a halt beside him. The dogs whined with excitement as the team’s driver stepped off the sled.

Only when the man pulled back his fur-covered hood and removed his goggles did Redmond identify this previously mysterious personage as his sergeant-major.

“Sorry it took so long. Lieutenant. But it took a bit of convincing to get my uncle to part with his dogs.”

“I’m surprised he gave them up, especially to a nephew he hasn’t seen in almost fifteen years,” Redmond replied while inspecting the sled. It was of fairly modern construction, with a pair of razor-sharp, steel runners and an elongated, wooden-slat storage compartment.

“I’m afraid the price was pretty stiff though,” Cliff Ano added.

“Not only did I have to promise to bring the team back in decent shape, I had to swear that if anything happened to them, I’d come up to Arctic Bay on my leave time and work for my uncle until the debt was repaid, Talk about driving a hard bargain!”

Redmond chuckled.

“By the way, that’s some parka you’re wearing.”

“That’s compliments of my aunt,” returned the Inuit.

“It’s my oldest cousin’s actually. Made out of caribou hide on the outside, with a sealskin lining.

One thing for certain, it’s a lot warmer than the Army-issue parka I had to trade for it.”

Redmond peered out to the roiling line of dark clouds blowing in from the north.

“It looks like you’re going to need that parka, Sergeant-Major. This storm has got all the brewings of a full-force blizzard.”

“The dogs don’t seem to mind it,” the Inuit commented as he replaced his glasses and pulled up his hood.

“What’s the matter. Lieutenant, are you starting to have second doubts about taking off now?”

“I’d be a liar if I told you such a thought hadn’t crossed my mind, Sergeant-Major. The trip we’re about to undertake is going to be hazardous enough even without this damn storm.”

Not used to hearing his senior officer so readily express his fears, Cliff Ano interjected, “Things could be worse. Lieutenant. My uncle tells me he was out on the Brodeur Peninsula a little less than three weeks ago, and even then Admiralty Inlet was frozen as solid as a hockey rink. Though we might have a few snowdrifts to contend with, at least that portion of our trip should go smoothly.”

“I hope to God that you’re right, Sergeant-Major-and that we haven’t bitten off more than we can chew.”

The Inuit seemed surprised by such a statement.

“Come now. Lieutenant. Have you already forgotten that we’re Arctic Rangers, the best damn soldiers in the northland? Why no task is impossible for Canada’s best!”

Redmond’s grin was a sarcastic one.