One Small Base
By Kind Permission of the Book that Wasn’t – Rick Atkinson and Jonathan Walton
This is not a tale of sledging and hardship shared equally by man and dog in the wastes of Antarctica. It is the story of a small four-man base, one of several established during the period 1946-47, around the coasline of the Grahamland Peninsula; later to be renamed the Antarctic Peninsula. However, it was different to the other small bases because we shared it with a group of huskies.The story covers one season, 1948-9, and what happened later when some of the huskies returned to England.
In 1948 Base F Argentine Islands had been established a year. It was a group of small islands five miles off the west coast of Grahamland. “Jumbo” Nichol, Base Leader, Bill Thomas, Radio Operator, Frank Buse, General Duties, and myself, Meteorologist, took over the base in February 1948 from “Dicky” Bird and three companions. Historically, the Argentine Islands were the site of the northern base of the British Grahamland Expedition during 1934-7. No trace of the expedition hut remained in 1947 when a landing party came ashore to set up a new base. It was subsequently established that a tidal wave had destroyed it in April 1946. Our nearest neighbours were at Port Lockroy 40 miles to the North and Stonington Island 200 miles to the South.
We inherited a motley collection of adult dogs and half grown youngsters. Three of the bitches were pregnant and were due to whelp shortly. “Dicky” Bird, the outgoing Base Leader and Meteorologist, gave us a quick run down on the dogs and their names, too many to remember but fortunately a register had been maintained. He also briefed me on the Meteorological equipment. The handover, of necessity. Had to be brief as there was a great deal of work to complete before the “John Biscoe” sailed. He was moving on to Hope Bay for his second season.
Our instructions from “Doc” Fuchs for the coming season were to continue the breeding and training programme commenced the previous year and stockpile as many seal carcasses as possible. The best of the trained dogs would be passed, together with spare seal carcasses, to the two sledging bases at Hope Bay and Stonington Island in 1949.
We knew from information given to us on the journey down from England by “Robbie” Slessor that the original 25 huskies were purchased in Labrador for Operation Tabarin1944. A second batch of 22 were picked up in Labrador by Robbie in 1945. As he was a gynaecologist in civilian life he was amply qualified for the job! He had served at Base E Stonington Island during the season 1946-7.
Robbie had also told us about the pack hierarchal structure with a King Dog who established his position by combat and had “good order and discipline” maintained by his henchmen. However, as the lieutenants were ambitious to take the lead role the King Dog’s position was new totally secure. If he became old or ill. he would be displaced. Although Robbie told us that the dogs ate meat. seal or penguin, we never asked and he forgot in tell us how much they ate. This point was to become a key element in our lives during the next year.
Our practical initiation to base life started very quickly. As soon as the “John Biscoe” was hull down on the horizon on 26th February 1948, we were preoccupied with moving a mass of stores off the beach where everything had been dumped the day before. Because of the way the ship had been loaded at Tilbury Docks, not everything for the base was immediately accessible. Fuel, most of our food supplies, replacements for the radio equipment, field equipment such as sleeping bags, were left on board to be offloaded on the ship’s next visit. Most of the adult dogs were chained up to ‘deadmen’, pieces of wood which were frozen into the snow. These were either bitches on heat or members of the ‘awkward squad’ who were known trouble makers. As the area around base had been ice free, the rest of the dogs had been allowed to roam free during the day. Suddenly an almighty fight broke out on the doglines behind the base hut. Rushing to the scene we were confronted by 10 to 15 dogs engaged in pitched battle and apparently enjoying every minute of it. We knew from Robbie’s advice that the only way to break up a major fight was to wade in and pull them apart. This we did, confident in the knowledge that huskies would never knowingly bite a human (this according to Robbie). What we did not appreciate at that stage is that in the heat of battle it is sometimes impossible for a dog to distinguish between animal and man. When the battle subsided we discovered that the cause of the fight was one of the bitches in season who sat there laughing her head off. A couple of potential suitors had clashed and all the other dogs and bitches running free had joined in just for fun.
We held a post-mortem on the fight that evening. We felt that the dogs were aware of a change of personnel on base and were just ‘testing the water’ with the new team. We also decided that the dogs could only run free when they could be supervised. We also noted that. however young, everyone seemed to want to become involved. There was obviously another side to these friendly, lovable animals.
Our next urgent priority was to sort out the feeding arrangements for the dogs. Huskies. like humans, want to be fed at regular intervals. If they are not, they become bad tempered! We had been told by Dicky that the dogs needed about 4 Ibs. of seal meat every second day. From the racket they were kicking up it was obvious they were hungry despite the fact that Dicky had told us they had been fed the day before.
There were a couple of seal carcasses near the hut covered over with a tarpaulin to protect them from the dogs. We knew that one full grown carcass would last about three days, and that there was a stockpile of about 25/30 seals on Three Little Pigs; buried in deep snow to preserve them. There was open water to these islands so we would need to get the boat out and explore. Jumbo and I dismembered a seal under Frank’s tuition. His uncle was a butcher in Port Stanley and he knew about these things. We had taken the precaution to chain up all the dogs before we did this, otherwise they would have made the job impossible. Once fed, the doglines went quiet. Even the youngsters settled down far a while.
The following day, much to our delight, we discovered that Bessy had whelped in one of the empty crates. She produced six pups, two of them dead. She caught us by surprise as she was not due to whelp for another week. This was her first litter and she did not appear to be producing any milk and the poor little creatures were desperate to feed. We decided to make up a solution of condensed milk and feed them by giving them our little fingers to suck. We piled straw into the crate, kept feeding them regularly and hoped nature would take its course.
Bill, in the meantime, was getting acquainted with his radio equipment. Whilst he was making his first transmission the generator packed up. This sadly was to be the overriding problem during the whole of our season. He had been warned by the outgoing radio man, Gordon Stock, that the equipment was unreliable but spares had been ordered which we knew were on the “John Biscoe”. so we were not too worried. Two days later we fed the last of the seal meat to the dogs so Jumbo and I took off round the shoreline of the island by boat and sighted two Weddell seals lying out on an ice pan, a small flat floating piece of sea ice. Jumbo, who was an excellent shot, got off a couple of rounds killing one outright and mortally wounding the other one. The problem of retrieval proved more difficult than we had imagined. Rowing alongside the ice, I jumped out of the boat; the ice tipped and the seals started sliding into the water. By good fortune, I managed to get a grappling hook into one whilst Jumbo got a rope attached to them. Feeling very pleased with our catch, we towed them back to base where we were greeted by all the loose dogs who were wildly excited at the prospect of fresh meat The dogs got their meat and that evening Frank, who was cook, rustled up a first class meal of fried liver. It tasted a bit fishy and was very strong butwe all enjoyed it.
The next day Jumbo and I made our first attempt to try some of the dogs in harness. We understood from Dicky that most of the adults were sledge trained so we anticipated that it would be pretty straightforward. How wrong we were! We decided to run a team of five. We thought that Duke, as King Dog and an experienced sledger, would be a good leader and selected the others more or less at random.
As soon as we appeared with harness the dogs started to leap up and down shouting their heads off. Trying to get the harness on one dog required the efforts of both of us. As we finished each dog we clipped it to the sledge main trace. As soon as the second one was in position they started fighting. We broke the fight up and went back for the third dog, and fighting broke out again. It took us about half an hour to get them all in position and ready to go.
We gave Duke the command to go, “Wheet”. He just sat there looking totally disinterested. Either he had forgotten the words of command or perhaps he knew we were both ‘rookies’ and was testing us. Finally, by me dragging him forward and Jumbo driving the sledge and yelling “Wheet” we managed to gel them all moving.
The backdrop at the base was a hill with a fairly gentle gradient to the top which was about 100 feet above sea level. The team took this quite well, all pulling together, but as soon as they got to the top they took off at the gallop. The far side of the hill ended with an ice cliff and they all headed for this totally ignoring Jumbo’s anguished cries of “Stop”, together with a lot of unprintable comments. I was left a long way behind and could only watch in dawning horror at the thought of the whole lot disappearing over the edge of the cliff. The brake wouldn’t hold them but at the last moment Jumbo managed to turn the sledge over. The handlebars dug into the snow and the headlong dash was halted. The sledge was badly damaged; a runner and the handlebars broken. Three of the dogs had slipped their harness and headed straight back to base. Jumbo and I got the sledge back eventually to find the three dogs sitting there laughing/smirking at us. We decided to run a smaller team next time and to learn something about repairing sledges
Although we had only been on base a short while, it was obvious that the dogs would be a major priority in our lives. Bonding was already developing. Frank and I had taken on responsibility for trying to rear the new pups of Bessy and Bunty. Neither bitch appeared to be producing enough milk so we continued our efforts to wean them on condensed milk. Initially the mothers did not like us handling the pups but gradually we were accepted, probably because they realised we were trying to help them. Sadly it soon became clear that not all of the pups would survive. Some of Bunty’s were having trouble with their back legs which appeared to be some form of paralysis. Jumbo consulted David Dalgleish who was doctor at Stonington Island. He suggested that if there was no improvement in a few days they should be put down. Frank, particularly, was upset as he was looking after these pups. When the time came he gently took them away from their mother, who did not seem to be too upset I think animals are aware of illness and tend to reject the weak.
Shortly after this a third bitch, Monkey, produced five puppies, all of them healthy. She had made her bed in the store hut and despite efforts to move her nearer the hut, was determined to have them where she wanted not us. She was a very good mother, had plenty of milk and did not want her pups handled.
Dog training and sealing progressed in earnest through April and May when the ice between the islands was sufficiently thick to take sledges. Jumbo and Frank in particular spent a lot of time with the dogs and were beginning to get quite proficient at handling them. The early problems of harnessing up and uncontrolled sledging began to recede. We were restricted to sledging around the immediate islands because a lot of wide tracts of open water kept appearing out to sea and in the channel between us and the mainland. There were obviously strong currents preventing the sea ice freezing over completely.
Each of us had a favourite dog. Mine was a young bitch, a very sweet-natured lady named Polly. She had no real vice and kept apart from the other bitches, avoiding confrontation where possible. However, if she was forced to stand her ground she could give a good account of herself. She later became an excellent lead dog when sledging, being highly intelligent and able to “read” the surface well. She needed very little control by the driver, being able to find a good route through pressure ridges and rotten ice. As she was small for a husky, she found it very difficult to break a trail through deep snow and we would use a bigger dog on these occasions. Because she was so well behaved she spent minimal time on the doglines and often used to sleep under the sledges which were stacked by the side of the base hut She would often accompany me on my meteorology rounds which involved checking the site instruments and ice conditions from the top of the hill several times a day. One of her favourite sunbathing spots during the good weather periods was against the sun recorder. In consequence on several occasions there were large gaps in the recorded hours of sunlight on days when there had not been a cloud in the sky. The explanation for these odd sun records caused a lot of amusement at the Port Stanley Meteorological Office when I turned in my weather reports at the end of the season.
I became very fond of her and later in the season was actively considering whether I could get her back to England when I returned home. Ironically she did come back in 1949, with a group of other dogs from our base, but died under tragic circumstances, of which more later.
By the beginning of April the sea ice was 12-18″ thick and 7/10 covered. On the 9th April, the S.S. “Fitzroy” was unable to get into the base because of thick sea ice. She got within 4 miles and could go no further. We believed she had offloaded our stores on the sea ice anticipating that we would be able to sledge out and pick them up. Bill was unable to make contact with the ship so we did not learn what had happened until the following day by which time the weather had deteriorated and large tracts of open water had opened up. When we finally got out into the Penola Strait where the ship had been, there was no sign of the stores which, if they had been offloaded, had either drifted away or sunk.
Jumbo and I returned to base feeling pretty disconsolate and we all look an inventory of our stock. We had sufficient basic foodstuff left over from the previous year albeit a
somewhat peculiar selection which included tinned pigs’ trotters (“who on earth had ordered them?” we wondered), Libby’s tinned mixed fruit, Australian tinned butter, corned beef. condensed milk and flour. There were only two 44 gallon drums of petrol to keep the generators for the radio equipment going and virtually no spares. This would probably mean that Bill would have to drastically reduce the number of daily transmissions and receptions. We were also without a serviceable rifle, had a 12 bore shotgun with little ammunition and no sleeping bags, which would effectively restrict the amount of field work we could carry out. The one bright spot was that we had a small mountain of coke, for our Aga cooker and healing stove. Things could have been a lot worse.
That evening we decided to ‘kill off’ our small ration of alcohol which comprised naval issue rum. The rest of our year’s ration had been effectively removed by the stevedores at Tilbury who substituted bricks into the boxes. I think we even toasted them in our alcoholic euphoria.
The air temperatures were now falling rapidly and sea ice sledging conditions were quite good. Our sealing activities during this period were very successful and on one day alone at the end of April we bagged fourteen seals. We were working flat out to stockpile as many as possible before they withdrew further north to breed in warmer waters. Together with the stockpile which we had located on The Three Little Pigs, after a lot of searching, we were now assured of sufficient food for the dogs for the rest of the season.
There were now sufficient dogs sledge trained to make three good teams. We found the easiest way to get the young dogs trained was to run them alongside their mothers in harness. With active encouragement from their parent, often a sharp nip, they soon learnt that it was easier to run than be dragged along by an enthusiastic team.
It was interesting to note that the huskies’ approach to work can be rather like humans; some would pull their hearts out, always giving their best effort Others would do no more than absolutely necessary; they would keep their trace lines taut but did not put any real effort into pulling. And others would get bored and try and cause a distraction by jumping across the traces and getting everybody tangled up. Jumbo and Frank spent more time than Bill and myself with the dogs as they were less restricted to base than the two of us who had to maintain regular radio and met schedules.
However, because we were a small base we all had to lake our turn as duty cook every fourth week. The other three would share the outside duties equally which included feeding the dogs. sledge training and bringing in seals Just to ensure that we were never idle the generating and wireless equipment was always giving trouble. Bill. Frank and I were continually taking turns to maintain the generator in order to stay “on air”. Bill and Frank were good technicians and I learnt a lot about engines and radio. It was a question of making do with worn out gear, trying to make up spare parts and maintaining schedules at a minimum level. We could not afford the fuel to use the lighting system in the hut so relied on Tilley lamps which were very efficient.
Frank and I had both done some climbing and frequently discussed the possibility of getting across the strait to the mainland to climb Cape Tuxen. We could not use dogs to make the crossing of about five miles because we would have had to leave them at our camp whilst we made the climb. The alternative was to manhaul. Once we got clearance from “Doc” Fuchs to go it was just a case of waiting until the ice was in good enough condition. Temperatures were all over the place as a series of frontal systems passed over us. On the 18th June I recorded one of our lowest temperatures of -26 degrees F (58 degrees of frost). Two days later it was + 27.5! The overall effect on the sea ice was the formation of 12″ of surface slush.
We knew it was going to be hard going man hauling a sledge with all our equipment, but the day arrived when we decided “now or never” and went. As a precaution, Jumbo chained up all the dogs to stop them following us.
The actual crossing took about six hours of back-breaking toil. We finished the journey in the semi darkness as the daylight hours were short at this time of year. If we had previously held reservations about the ethics of Amundsen using dogs to get to the Pole, as opposed to man hauling, we were now convinced he was right!
We had two energetic days’ actual climbing and managed to reach the summit, but not without one or two anxious moments. On the fourth day we broke camp and started back. The conditions were no better and tracts of open water had started to appear. Our journey was lightened however by the appearance of about six dogs, including Polly, who had been released to greet us. They came streaming across the ice in fine form and escorted us back. Bill. who was cook that week, laid on a “welcome home” meal of substantial proportions.
The following day another series of depressions passed through and it blew hard for several days. When we managed to get out again to check, we found open water in the channel. We had been very fortunate to have had a settled conditions for our trip and to return before the sea ice broke up. It did not reform for several weeks and Frank and I would have been in some difficulty if we had been isolated on the mainland.
A final postscript was that I had taken a number of photographs from the summit of Tuxen. The views had been breathtaking and the visibility was infinity. Sadly, when I developed the films there was not a single decent shot due to overexposure. This was a problem where there was a combination of sunlight and white reflecting surfaces. I was very much an amateur photographer with only a basic camera and a couple of light filters. An exposure meter would have been the answer.
At Doc Fuchs’ request, we reviewed our breeding programme to date. We had inherited three pregnant bitches, two of whom had produced dead or weak puppies. We had reared eleven but only the three from Monkey were healthy. All the others were sickly, unable to suckle properly or suffering from what appeared to be malformation and paralysis of the hind quarters. Everything seemed to point to Igluk who had mated with both Bessy and Bunty. We had also lost several adolescents who were too young to be chained on the dog lines and were allowed to run free. Two just disappeared. We thought they had wandered out onto the sea ice, got marooned and probably drowned. Another was mauled by Hank, an adult dog, and subsequently died. The worst incident however involved Hilda the first bitch to be mated since we took over the base. She could not pass the first pup and died in labour. This was a very sad incident and affected all of us badly. There was nothing that could be done for her and we felt totally useless.
Jumbo had several discussions by radio with Doc Fuchs and was finally instructed to close down the breeding programme. It would be taken on at Stonington Island. The advantage was obvious as there was a doctor on base who would be able to deal with the sort of medical problems we had encountered. The follow-on was that the base would probably be closed down at the end of the season and dogs and personnel moved to other bases. As the original reason for the opening of the base had been mainly political, with the removal of the dogs there seemed to be little point in maintaining it This decision did not make any difference to us; we still had a lot of work to do for the rest of the season.
By early August the sea ice was again sufficiently thick for Jumbo to attempt his long-planned sledging trip. He and Frank had meticulously prepared all their gear. He was going to have to run a heavy load because we had no Pemmican sledging rations and would have to carry seal meat instead for the dogs. This meant using a team of 8/9 dogs. They made up a new harness and had already made two very good sleeping bags using blankets and waterproof canvas. Frank and I had already tested these out when we went to Tuxen and they had proved to be very warm.
The great day dawned for their start The sledge was loaded, dogs harnessed, photos taken. They expected to be away for a minimum of 3/4 weeks, hoping to initially reach Cape Trois Perez about 20 miles to the south and then carry on as far as possible. Fuchs was looking at the possibility of a coastline survey south of the Biscoe Islands next season and Jumbo would recce the area. Later that day. Bill picked them up on their mobile 22 set. They were having to return because of open water which they could not bypass even by making a wide detour out to sea. They got back that evening frustrated but determined to have another go.
A couple of days later after studying the sea ice conditions closely from the highest point on the islands they decided to move off again. This time they were away three days but again had to abort the trip again because of open water and bad surface conditions. They had nearly lost all their gear when the sledge had broken through the ice. As it was, both of them were soaked trying to save it but fortunately the air temperature was in the +20’s so they made camp and managed to dry themselves out. I fell particularly sorry for Jumbo as he was very keen to achieve a really good sledging trip
The only good thing to come out of the exercise was that the dogs had performed very well. The hard work put into training them had paid off.
As thoughts of a long sledging trip receded we got a message from Doc Fuchs to say that Ken Pawson and two others were missing at Port Lockroy, a four man base. We were to look at the possibility of getting a relief team up to George Barry, Base Leader and radio operator, who was alone and needed urgent assistance. The sea ice conditions to the north were very bad, the only possibility would be to work round the the coastline and hope to make the crossing across the Gerlache Strait to Wiencke Island where the base was situated.
We realised that it would probably be a one way journey as there would be little chance of our team getting back that season. It was decided to draw lots for the two to go. Just as we started our preparations Ken and his companions arrived back. They had been unable to get back earlier because of bad sea ice and weather conditions. They had been away four days. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.
During September the weather was foul. Heavy snow and high winds obliterated everything and daily we had to dig our way out of the hut. A series of deep depressions passed through, temperatures plummeted and the sea ice in the channels was continuously on the move. Even in the worst weather conditions the dogs with their double insulated fur coats would snuggle down and sleep for hours at a time. They would be completely obliterated by snow and virtually hibernate. They would only come to life when we started preparing their food all giving tongue together and making an unbelievable racket They would also perform at night before settling down. The husky howl is a mournful sound and could go on for about half an hour. On a still night it was an eerie sound.
It was about six weeks before we could get the dogs out sledging. They were overjoyed to be out and working again and were very excitable. The situation was not helped by the appearance of groups of Adelie penguins on the sea ice which the dogs were desperate to reach. A number of different species of birds and penguins were sighted, a sure sign of returning spring. By October however the weather had deteriorated again, with heavy snow and low temperatures restricting outside activity.
By the middle of November, a lot of discussion took place across the bases regarding the next season. Jumbo was confirmed to open up a new sledging base on Alexander Island. I was going to Stonington Island which was remaining as a sledging base. We were both very pleased with the postings but on the 26th of the month, news came through from Hope Bay that was to change all of these plans.
Whilst a sledging party was away a fire had completely destroyed the base hut. Dicky Bird and Mike Green had died but Bill Sladen, the doctor who was off base on a nearby penguin rookery, survived. In consequence the disposition of personnel had to be drastically revised. To add to the problems, heavy sea ice was reported from Stonington Island which was likely to prevent the setting up of Jumbo’s new base. It might also put at risk the relief of the Stonington base itself.
The bad news from other bases continued to come in. Eric PIatt, Base Leader and Geologist at Admiralty Bay, was away from base with John Reid. He suffered what appeared to be a heart attack and died. John was unable, despite valiant attempts, to get him back by himself and had to return to find assistance. Eric was in his mid twenties and we could not believe he had gone.
Back at our base, December was a very active month. The return and nesting of shags on Galindey Island meant fresh eggs for us and we made several ski trips across the sound to collect as many as we could carry. Jumbo kept the dogs working hard, getting in as many seals as possible to stockpile.
Christmas was a great day. We all dressed up in our best “civvies”, listened to the broadcast of the King’s Speech and sat down to a first class meal prepared by Bill assisted by myself. The menu read:
- Tomato and Oxtail Soup
- Sausage, eggs, beans and potatoes
- Xmas pudding and tinned fruit
- Xmas cake and mince pies
It was brilliant and we finished off the last of our meagre stock of rum with coffee. Everything except the eggs, cake and mince pies came out of a tin. We gave the dogs extra rations as well, fresh penguin meat which they enjoyed enormously.
It was nearly two months later before the John Biscoe relieved us. There had been various difficulties, including engine problems and heavy sea ice conditions to delay her. She was a wooden hulled ship and was limited in her movements through sea ice. The first time she had tried to relieve Stonington Island in January 1948, she stripped most of the timber reinforcing off the bows in the heavy sea ice. She was only able to get in finally because of the presence of a US ice breaker in the area. Ken Butler, ex Stonington Island 1946 – 7 who was FIDS liaison officer at Port Stanley, was aboard. From him we learnt our final movements. Frank and I were going back on the ship to Port Stanley. Jumbo would probably continue for another year at the Argentine Islands if the new southern base could not be established. Bill would be going to Signy Island in the South Orkneys as radio operator; he was not very pleased with this posting. He would, however, be looking after some of the dogs from Hope Bay and our base until they were collected by a joint Anglo-Norweigan-Swedish expedition to Queen Maud Land. Frank and I made our farewells to the dogs and Jumbo and Bill saw us off early the following morning.
When we arrived back at Port Stanley I stayed with Frank’s uncle, the butcher, for a couple of weeks awaiting passage back to England. I helped him make yards of lamb sausages; the residents of Port Stanley seemed very keen on them. I finally parted company from Frank and never saw him again. We corresponded a few times, the last after the Falklands conflict. Sadly he died in the mid-80’s. It was the passing of a very good and likeable man who diplomatically kept the peace between the rest of us – at times no mean feat! We also had the advantage that, if we needed space and solitude, we could always take ourselves off to the dog lines. There we would get plenty of fuss and attention.
Fate, being unpredictable, decreed a change of plan for Bill. He arrived back in England in the summer of 1949 with the huskies, including my lovely Polly, which had been due to stay at Signy Island. What prompted the change of plan I cannot remember. The dogs went to a kennels at Telscombe village near Brighton. Because none of the staff knew anything about the breed Bill was asked to stay on to look after them. He contacted me at Herefordshire where I was working and told me he was back. I got down to Telscombe as soon as I could and had a happy reunion with Polly who was overjoyed to see me again.
The conditions for the dogs were good and they looked very fit and well fed. Sadly. that all changed a few weeks later when an outbreak of Hardpad, a virulent strain of animal distemper, was diagnosed. As there was no known treatment at that time, despite the valiant efforts of the vet who ran the kennels, and Burroughs Wellcome who were called in, nine dogs died, including Polly. Because they had come from a totally sterile environment their immune systems could not handle the massive infection. To quote Bill Thomas who wrote at the time: “It’s awful to see. them fade away, the expression in their eyes is something that has to be seen”.
It was a very sad time for everyone and seemed a terrible waste of such lovely animals. Their deaths however were not in vain. BW were able to develop a vaccine against Hardpad which was totally successful in preventing the disease. The survivors went South to Queen Maud Land and remained healthy.
Because Bill and I had unexpectedly come together again, we decided to go into partnership with the vet who owned Telscombe Kennels. We set up a new quarantine kennels at Haxted Mill, near Edenbridge, Kent. By March 1950 we were operational and were approached by FIDS to accept a second batch of huskies coming out of Stonington Island for the forthcoming Festival of Britain in 1951. Stonington had finally been relieved, the first time for two seasons. The base was closed down and many of the dogs had to be destroyed because they could not be accommodated on the “John Biscoe”. This terrible task was performed by their own handlers with great humanity. 37 dogs were taken off. Of these, a team of nine. led by Darkie, Fuchs’ own lead dog which had been inherited from Ted Bingham, were to come back to England. The rest were distributed amongst the other bases. This sad story is sensitively told in Sir Vivian Fuchs’ book “Of Ice And Men”.
Bill and I built a special compound to provide quarantine faculties, which had comfortable accommodation and a large exercise yard. We were assisted (when he was sober) by a “gentleman of the road” who arrived one day on his bicycle to which were attached his worldly possessions. He claimed to be the son of a vicar and was obviously well educated.
He stayed with us on and off for several months and lived in our straw shed. He had a primus stove and one saucepan which was used for both cooking and washing clothes. Even his socks were boiled! We attributed his survival to the quantity of liquor he consumed. When he did work, he worked very well.
One day he took off and never returned. Bill and I often wondered what happened to him.
In July 1950 the dogs arrived at Southampton with Ray Adie, ex Stonington base in charge. He like several others had done three consecutive season in Antarctica.
The ten dogs, including a couple of puppies Jane and Charlie, who had been born in transit, had a very pampered six months. They attracted an enormous amount of interest both locally and nationally. The press, sensing a good story, gave plenty of coverage. The pups especially were very popular. Typically, they caused the most trouble. always into mischief and chewing up anything they could find. Leather collars were their- main target and Charlie had to have an emergency operation to remove an internal blockage caused by a ball of chewed leather. The operation also revealed a couple of nails which had been swallowed at some point when I had been doing maintenance in the compound!
At the end of the quarantine period the dogs stayed on with us to be reintroduced to sledging. Jumbo, who by this time was also back in England, was recruited together with Ken Blaiklock. another ex Stonington base member, to handle them at the festival. Ken went on to serve again with Doc Fuchs on the Trans-Antarctic Expedition in the mid 1950’s and did several other seasons down South as a surveyor.
Jumbo, Ken, Bill and myself made up a couple of special sledges which could run on grass. Daily, the dogs would be trained in a large field at the rear of the kennels. This was also well covered by the media. In consequence, it attracted the unwelcome attention of several animal rights movements. Middle-aged ladies wearing tweeds and sensible shoes would appear with placards, protesting against the dogs being made to work. They would shout genteel abuse at us from the roadway alongside the Held. In those days activists were well behaved and we used to regularly offer them tea which they always refused on a point of principle.
It was a very enjoyable period for everyone, including our kennel girls who adored the huskies, particularly the pups.
In due course the dogs were taken to London where Jumbo. Ken and a couple of others gave over 2.000 performances at the festival. The public loved it and the dogs were very popular, in particular Darkie, who was a handsome black dog with white markings, weighing about 180 Ibs.
After the Festival Darkie went to Cambridge to live with Doc Fuchs. The others passed into history.
I am very glad to have had the opportunity and privilege to work with huskies in their natural environment. They are a magnificent and independent breed, full of character, energy and charm. Antarctica today is a poorer place without them.
DAVID GOLTON – 1995