Arctic Showdown E-Book

John Ball

• Herausgeber: Thunderchild Publishing
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

A fierce Arctic blizzard, an emergency landing in the Alaskan wilds, a party of inexperienced newsmen — and only a 16-year-old boy, using his Air Force Survival School training, between them and certain death.

Young Andy Driscoll is perfectly able to handle the job of keeping himself and his tenderfoot friend John alive and healthy until help comes, but aiding the adult members of the party is a more difficult task, for the men, led by a loudmouthed bully, are reluctant to accept the leadership of a young boy. The story of Andy’s desperate struggle against overwhelming odds to save the lives of ten helpless men makes a tense, exciting, and extremely informative reading adventure.

Here is a book that will appeal to all — for the vivid description of Alaskan country; for the accurate representation of approved military survival-school techniques; for the fascinating information on a little-known segment of our defense system; and, above all, for the sheer excitement of a first-rate adventure story.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgement

1 - Reunion in Alaska

2 - Toward the North

3 - Interruption

4 - The Coming of Night

5 - The Storm — 1

6 - The Storm — 2

7 - The Snow Cave

8 - Morton

9 - Icepick Seven

10 - Homecoming

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ARCTIC SHOWDOWN

Copyright © 1966 by John Ball, Jr.

This edition published by agreement with Kesang Ball.

All rights reserved.

Edited by Dan Thompson

A Thunderchild eBook

Published by Thunderchild Publishing

1898 Shellbrook Drive

Huntsville, AL 35806

First Edition: February 1966

First Thunderchild eBook Edition: September 2014

Cover design by Dan Thompson.

Dedication

FOR JOHN F. FEDDERS, D.D.,

WITH GRATEFUL APPRECIATION

FOR A LIFETIME OF INSPIRATION

Acknowledgement

THIS STORY WAS WRITTEN

WITH THE COOPERATION OF THE

UNITED STATES ARMY AND AIR FORCE, ALASKA

1 - Reunion in Alaska

Andy Driscoll pushed back his plate and rose from the breakfast table. “I’d better get dressed,” he said. “Sergeant Ripley is picking me up in about twenty minutes.”

“Have a good time, son,” his father told him. “I’m going to a staff meeting at Elmendorf, so I won’t be here when the sergeant comes. Please pass my regards on to him.”

“Sure, Dad,” Andy said. He glanced out the window at the strikingly colorless scene and then went to his room, where he had his outdoor gear already laid out on the bed. He pulled off the light shirt and trousers he had worn at breakfast, and sitting on the edge of his bed, pulled on a fresh pair of long-handled thermal underwear. When he had all of the wrinkles out to his satisfaction, he put on a wool shirt. After that he stepped into a pair of winter trousers and let the shirt hang loosely outside.

Next came the socks. He drew on a light rayon pair for wear next to his skin, and over them an immensely thick pair of white woolen ones. Then he reached for another pair just like them, only one size larger, and put them on too. When he had completed this operation he stood up and walked a few steps to be sure that the soles of all three pairs were smooth under his feet.

Satisfied, he sat down once more and picked up still another pair of the cumbersome socks, one size larger yet, and worked them on over the three pairs which he had on already. Once more he checked that no hidden wrinkles lay in wait to make him miserable outside, but he had done this many times before and the job was perfect. With his feet now unable to feel the floor under them, he prepared to get into his fat-boy pants.

Andy himself was not fat at all. He was trim and well muscled for his age, the result of a good deal of outdoor living, but the fat-boy pants would hide all that. As they lay spread out they looked more or less like a rumpled, many-layered bedspread or comforter. Andy picked up the bulky garment and held it behind himself with his right hand while he pulled the heavy suspenders over his shoulders. When he had them in place, he wrapped the multilayered garment around his hips and legs and engaged the waist-to-ankle zippers. As soon as he had run the heavy-duty sliders down the big tracks, the thick layers of fabric shaped themselves into a recognizable pair of trousers which bulged out so much they made Andy look thirty pounds heavier than he actually was.

With the fat-boy pants in place he sat down — a little less comfortable than before — and reached for his mukluks. Into each of the heavy boots he fitted two pairs of half-inch-thick felt innersoles and made sure that they were smooth. Then he pulled the high-cut boots on over his many pairs of socks, his regular trousers, and the bottoms of the fat-boy pants, checking once again for awkward wrinkles which could become painful later on. Satisfied that everything was in order, he fastened up the mukluks loosely, allowing plenty of air room inside. He remembered the first time that he had put on a pair of these Eskimo-invented foot coverings, how he had fastened them so snugly to make sure the snow couldn’t get in and had cut off his circulation. That had been three years ago, when his father had just arrived at Fort Richardson for the beginning of his tour of duty. He had been a little stupid about cold-weather clothing in those days, but no one could say that he hadn’t learned.

When Andy stood up, his feet were so thickly padded by so many layers of protection he appeared to be almost two inches taller than his normal height. He pulled a woolen sweater over his head, smoothed it down over his shirt, and then reached for his parka. It was a good one, with real fur around the headpiece, not the synthetic fiber that looked and felt like fur, but which froze into brittle little needles every time the temperature dropped under thirty below — which was often.

Andy trusted his parka. It had proved its value even when the chill factor was down to thirty-thirty (thirty degrees below zero, with a thirty-knot wind) and any exposed flesh would freeze solid in half a minute. He climbed into it and zippered it halfway up over the top of his fat-boy pants. He began to feel very hot, and hurried to finish his dressing. He fitted his fur-lined arctic cap over his head, put on his woolen gloves, them the mitten interliners, and finally hung his pair of long arctic mittens around his neck by the strong line which guarded them against loss. There was nothing childish about that: if a mitten were to slip down a snow crack and be lost somewhere out in the open, the results could be disastrous. Experienced Alaska hands took no chances, and Andy, who had been well trained, knew enough to follow their example.

He looked about him once quickly to be sure that nothing had been forgotten, and then, properly dressed for the day he had planned, he stepped outside into the biting bright cold. The thermometer at the front door only registered sixteen below; Andy was grateful for that — he had been afraid that it might be really cold when John was scheduled to arrive. Never having been in the north, his friend from California might have found it a bit uncomfortable.

The snow was brilliant and glistening this morning. There was only about four feet of it, but it covered the landscape all the way to the not-very-distant mountains and then continued unbroken right up to their summits. The few trees in sight were all starkly black against the sky; there was no color at all in any direction that he could look.

Andy walked to the edge of the plowed roadway as two vehicles came into view. One of them was a staff car to pick up his father; the other was an enclosed jeep, which would be Sergeant Ripley coming for him. He watched as the sedan drew up and his father, in uniform, hurried quickly out of the front door and into the heated vehicle. A few seconds later the jeep slid to a stop and Sergeant Ripley swung open the door. Andy climbed in front and made himself comfortable for the ride to the airport.

“Tell me about your friend,” Sergeant Ripley invited. His breath showed white in the air, but he was fully dressed in Army arctic clothing including white-rubber thermal boots. He was entirely comfortable.

“He’s a pretty good guy,” Andy replied. “I met him down in the south forty-eight when we went to school together. Since then we’ve written back and forth a lot and once, when Dad was on leave, I had a chance to visit him. He lives in California.”

Sergeant Ripley paused at the gate as they drove out of Fort Richardson and then continued on for the short drive into Anchorage. “Has he ever been in cold weather before ?” he asked.

Andy flashed him a smile. “Hardly. He’s been out of California, of course, but only in CONUS [military abbreviation for the Continental United States]. Do you want to know something? He’s never really seen snow, that is, up close. He’s seen it several miles away on the tops of mountains, but never to walk up to it and touch it.”

Sergeant Ripley, who was a big, powerful man, swung the jeep easily around a corner and smiled a little grimly. “He’s going to see it here, that’s for sure,” he commented. “I hope he has the right gear to wear.”

“Don’t worry about John,” Andy advised. “He’s pretty bright, and what he doesn’t know, he’ll learn fast.”

“Still, if he gets off that plane in a California sport shirt, he’ll be lucky to make it into the terminal.”

Andy glanced at the back of the jeep. “I see you brought some blankets,” he said.

“I thought it might be a good idea,” the sergeant acknowledged. “I’ve met planes that came in from the south before.”

In a few minutes they reached the Anchorage commercial field, parked, and went to the terminal to await the arrival of John’s plane. The flight was on time and in a matter of fifteen minutes the big jet taxied up outside and swung into ramp position. Because of his warm clothing Andy chose to spend the last few minutes outside, where he had a fine view of the whole operation. And, as he expected, John was the first passenger off the plane. He stepped out onto the portable steps, gathered an overcoat quickly about himself and set out for the terminal on the double.

Andy intercepted him a few feet from the entrance. “Johnny, how are you!” he greeted.

“I’m frozen,” John gasped. “It’s great to see you, Andy, but let’s get inside.”

Andy held open the door while his friend bolted quickly through and into the heated terminal. “My gosh,” he said when Andy joined him there. “I knew that Alaska was cold, but this is ridiculous. How long is this cold snap going to last?”

“It isn’t cold — it’s warm,” Andy answered. “That is, for this time of year. Why, it’s only sixteen below.”

“Sixteen below!” John repeated. “How do you stand it?”

“Well, we dress for it, that’s one thing. Have you got on thermal underwear ?”

“I’ve got on shorts and a T-shirt,” John answered. “But I bought myself a flannel shirt to come up here, an overcoat, and a hat. It’s the first hat I’ve ever owned.”

“You can get rid of that stuff at our house,” Andy advised. “There’s some extra room in my closet. I spoke to Sergeant Cummings in supply and he said he’d loan you some suitable gear while you’re up here.”

“Say, you’ve put on a lot of weight since I saw you last,” John interjected. “They must feed you pretty well.” Andy grinned. “They do that.”

“And you’re a heck of a lot taller.”

“No I’m not, it’s the clothing that fools you. Everybody looks taller and fatter in arctic gear. You’ll get used to it.”

“Right now I’d like to get used to a nice warm lodge or something with a big roaring fire. What do you have planned ?”

Andy kept his face straight as he answered. “Well, today is rather special, since there’s going to be a demonstration of paratroop maneuvers. About three hundred men are going to jump at the D.Z. [Drop Zone], and I thought you’d like to see it.”

“Outdoors ?” John asked cautiously.

Andy laughed. “I never saw a parachute jump indoors yet.”

John tried a new tack. “My luggage ought to be up by now. Let me get it and then we can go to your place. Maybe you can loan me some long underwear.”

“Now you’re getting the idea,” Andy answered. “Come on, Sergeant Ripley is waiting for us. He has a jeep.”

John looked around. “Where is he?” he asked.

“Oh, he’s outside — it’s too hot in here for him, and to be truthful, I’m roasting myself. Let’s get outdoors where it’s nice and comfortable.”

“O.K., if you say so,” John answered. He reclaimed his luggage and then pushed open the door to the outside. He took three steps forward, then his feet flew out from under him and he landed hard on the seat of his pants.

“Are you all right ?” Andy asked quickly.

“I guess so,” John replied from where he was sitting on the walkway. “Say, this snow is slippery stuff, isn’t it ?”

Andy picked up his bag and gave him a hand up. “You’ve got a lot to learn about the arctic, John, but you’ll catch on. Now let’s get over to supply and fix you up properly for this kind of living.”

By the time they reached the jeep, John was already cold and was holding his hands over his ears. Andy introduced him to Sergeant Ripley and then climbed into the back, so that his friend could sit up front where it might be a bit warmer. He passed up a blanket and advised John to wrap himself up well until they reached the supply depot.

Once inside, John stamped his feet, flailed his arms, and kept putting his hands over his sensitive ears. “I must have goofed,” he said. “I bought a lot of things to wear up here that the salesman said would be just right, but they aren’t helping a bit.”

Andy laughed. “That salesman has probably never been north of San Francisco. Arctic clothing is totally different from ordinary cold-weather stuff used in the south forty-eight. The trick is to wear a lot of layers and to wear them loosely. Three or even two thin layers are better than one thick one. And you don’t wear a belt either.”

“What do you use, suspenders ?”

“That’s right, we have to. Arctic pants are altogether too heavy to be held up with a belt. You wouldn’t get a dozen steps along before your pants fell down. And remember what I said about looseness, that’s important. Tight clothing just doesn’t do the trick, you’ll find out.”

At supply John was issued a heavy canvas bag, six pairs of quarter-inch-thick wool socks, a pair of fat-boy pants, suspenders, an arctic cap, a pair of arctic thermal boots, and a parka. Andy examined the parka in detail, checked the lining, and felt the fur around the headpiece. “It’s a good one,” he pronounced. “Down south a boy’s best friend may be his mother, but up here it’s his parka, at least at this time of the year.

“I’m beginning to get the idea,” John said.

The supply clerk returned once more, this time with woolen gloves, mitten interliners, and a huge pair of arctic mittens. When these were added to the pile, John shook his head slowly in disbelief. “I really appreciate the Army loaning me all this stuff,” he said. “Your father must certainly swing a lot of weight.”

“Lieutenant colonels do have a way about them,” Andy answered. “But this is standard courtesy for guests who are visiting us. We outfit all of the newsmen, and any others who come through. They don’t own this kind of gear and they’ve got to have it. Of course, all of the local people have their own.”

With Andy’s help John stuffed all his equipment into the canvas duffel bag. When he had finished, the bag was crammed full. It was both heavy and cumbersome, and he could barely pick it up. Andy took it and swung it expertly over his shoulder. “How come you rate a sergeant and a car ?” John asked.

“I don’t,” Andy answered promptly. “Sergeant Ripley is a friend of mine. When he heard you were coming in and knew Dad would be tied up, he offered to help me out. That’s his own jeep he’s driving.”

From the supply depot it was only a short ride to the senior officers’ quarters, where Andy’s father and others of similar rank were billeted. Still fighting the cold, John hurried inside with his suitcase while Andy followed with the duffel bag of arctic gear.

“We’ll be sharing my room if you don’t mind,” Andy said. “Up here we don’t have too much space indoors, but there’s plenty of it outside. You can take my word for that.”

“I hope to see some of it,” John answered.

The telephone rang.

Andy answered it and came back in a few moments with an odd look on his face. “Sit down,” he said, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

John sat on the edge of his bed and looked up. “What is it?” he asked.

“That was Dad,” Andy explained. “He wanted to ask if you had gotten in all right and I told him you had and that you had your arctic gear. Then he sprang it. A civilian C-47, that’s a twin-engined DC-3, is leaving here tomorrow to go all the way up to Point Barrow, at the northern tip of Alaska. There’s some extra space on the plane, and if you’d like to make the trip, he can fix it for us to be invited. That’s a long flight over some wild and spectacular country. Do you want to go ?”

“Of course I do!” John exclaimed eagerly.

“That’s what I told Dad,” Andy continued. “It should be quite a trip. To be honest with you, I haven’t been that far north myself. Before setting out on anything like that you ought to check in and go through the survival school first, but of course there won’t be time for that.”

“I don’t think anything is going to happen,” John offered.

“I don’t either,” Andy agreed. “But then, you can never be too sure about those things. It’s always good to be prepared.”