Under the Ice

The senior commando was in the midst of such a pondering when the sled before him unexpectedly ground to a halt. Reacting as quickly as possible, Redmond released the throttle and hit the hand brake.

An uncontrolled skid followed, during which time his snow cat missed striking the edge of the sled by only a few centimeters. Sheer instinct had made him steer into the skid, and after an anxious few moments the brakes had finally held.

His limbs were still trembling as he carefully opened up the throttle and returned to the lead sled’s side. He found Cliff Ano standing beside the dogs and peering out into the veil of white that lay before them.

“I don’t like it, Lieutenant. The dogs have gotten real skittish lately, and it’s an effort just to keep them moving,” observed the heavily bundled Inuit.

Shouting to be heard over the wind, Redmond replied.

“Maybe they’re just tired.”

His sergeant-major shook his head.

“It’s not that, Lieutenant. They seem to be consciously holding themselves back. I think there’s open water up ahead.”

“Well, there’s only one way to see if that’s the case,” returned the senior commando. He pivoted and shouted to the driver of the snow cat parked immediately behind them.

“Corporal Eviki, I want you to scout ahead on foot. Go out about a quarter of a kilometer, and be extra cautious as there’s a chance there’s open water somewhere ahead of us. Take Private Etah with you, just in case you run into any trouble. And watch your compass reading so that you can find your way back!”

As the two full-blooded Inuit climbed off the snow-cat and began their exploratory trek, Redmond made a hasty examination of the rest of the squad. Since the majority of them were also Inuit, the raw elements really didn’t bother them that much. Their army-issue clothing was first rate, and they were certainly no strangers to such a snow squall. Utilizing the line of tracked vehicles as a windbreak, they gathered together with their backs to the powerful gusts. Several of them even managed to light up cigarettes.

Jack Redmond was toying with the idea of setting up the receiver to see if they could pick up the homing beacon as yet when the two scouts arrived back at camp. With white tendrils of breath streaming from his nose and mouth. Corporal Jim Eviki revealed the outcome of their short search.

“There’s water out there sure enough. Lieutenant.

It’s less than an eighth of a kilometer ahead, and seems to stretch for a good distance.”

“So your dogs were right.” Redmond turned to his sergeant-major.

“But my uncle was wrong,” retorted Cliff Ano.

“He seemed to think the inlet would remain solidly frozen until the spring thaw.”

“Go easy on him, Sergeant-Major,” advised Redmond.

“After all, it was his team that saved our necks. Besides, it’s common knowledge any frozen body of water up here is subject to open leads, no matter how cold the temperature might get.”

“Where do we go from here?” questioned the corporal.

Redmond answered firmly.

“We go north, and skirt the open water until we come across some solid footing.”

As it turned out, they were forced to travel for two more hours in this direction before finding the type of flat, icy terrain that allowed them to continue on their original course. Here their pace once again quickened, though the dogs took it upon themselves to institute yet another abrupt change in direction as they approached the western shore of the inlet.

Steering hard to the left to follow the sled, Redmond soon saw for himself why the dogs had turned this way. For a ridge had formed in this portion of the ice, and if they had remained on their original course, they would have smacked right into it.

Ever thankful to have such a reliable, intuitive team leading the way, Redmond and his men completed their transit of the inlet when they came to an icy, boulder-strewn shoreline. In the shelter of these rocks they broke for lunch.

Over a hot thermos of tea, Redmond conferred with his second in command.

“Well, we’re almost halfway there, Sergeant-Major.”

“But this is where the going gets tough,” returned the Inuit.

“Once we pick our way over these rocks, there’s a valley on the other side that practically splits the peninsula in half. Uncle says we’ll do best by following this ravine all the way to Lancaster Sound.

He warned us to be on the lookout for open crevasses here. And it’s also wise to remember that this area is known for its high concentration of polar bears and wolves.”

“It’s not the wildlife that scares me,” observed Redmond.

“Is it my imagination, or has this storm further intensified since we stopped here?”

Dreamily gazing out at the frozen expanse of water they had just crossed. Cliff Ano thoughtfully replied, “This is the type of weather my ancestors greeted with open arms. Because such extreme conditions made hunting impossible, they passed the time snuggled warmly in their snow houses telling stories, chewing away on frozen meat, and waiting for the clouds to vent themselves.”

“Sounds enticing,” said Redmond.