by Jack Murphy
“In other words, we’re fucked.”
“Now it is up to them,” Will said, watching little black dots move across the screen.
“Hey, do you see that?”
Will squinted at the screen. The Global Hawk had passed over the glacier and then over a ridgeline, looking down into a valley that led away from the western coast, heading in a northeasterly direction.
“That’s them.”
* * *
Deckard pulled his mask down and drank from an insulated thermos as he stared out across the glacier. Spread out in front of him, the glacier was stunning in scope. It inched down the entire valley, only stopping a kilometer away from the shore. From that point on, the melting ice churned that lonely patch of valley into a rock-strewn mud puddle they had thankfully avoided. The glacier itself filled the valley and crept up the rocks on either end.
The occasional faint groan was just barely audible, heard from the subterranean ice below. It would have been far better to begin crossing the mass of ice in the morning, before the sun had begun the daily melt that started each day before freezing again at night. Now it was the middle of the day, and the glacier would be much more dangerous. As the sheet of ice flowed down the valley in slow motion, it grated across elevation changes on the valley floor, which caused the ice to split, creating crevasses on the surface. A similar physical dynamic took place where the glacier was forced to turn in the valley, which also led to crevasses appearing on the outer edges.
The men were already preparing their equipment, crafting improvised harnesses out of lengths of rope and then tying into one another in groups of four in case someone fell into a crack, which was easy to do if it was still concealed by a layer of snow.
It would have been better to make camp, let the glacier freeze again overnight, and make their crossing in the morning, but this wasn’t some Ranger Rick expedition for a Discovery Channel special. They were at war.
“Bird in the sky’s got eyes on the enemy,” Otter’s voice cracked over his radio. “You were right about them skirting through the next valley and then up into the mountains. The drone only caught sight of them for a minute before having to head back to the refueling station, but they estimated about a hundred personnel, over.”
This was combat. They would cross the glacier now, make camp at nightfall, and find a way over the mountains to intercept the enemy. There was no time to waste.
“Roger,” Deckard radioed back to the Carrickfergus. “Thanks for the SITREP, over.”
“They think that the device is being hauled on a snow sled.”
“Good. That should slow them down a bit.”
“Roger, out.”
Deckard slid through the snow, down an embankment, to the edge of the glacier.
“We’re almost ready to roll out,” Kurt Jager announced. “You ready to tie in?”
“Let’s go.”
Kurt was tied into the leading edge of the rope with a figure-eight knot that went through his harness. Sergeant Major Korgan was tied into the trail end, and Pat was tying into the middle. Spacing himself between Pat and Kurt, Deckard tied himself in. With that done, each of them used another length of rope to fashion a chest harness, secured across the front with a carabiner. The chest harness was then also clipped into the main line. Considering the heavy rucks they were carrying, without a chest harness, they would have risked not being able to sit upright if they fell into a crevasse, or worse yet, breaking their backs during the fall.
While the harnesses and main lines were done with 11mm dynamic rope, smaller 9mm static ropes were used to form Prusik knots along the main line on each side of the figure-eight knot they had tied in with. The free-running ends were tied off into hand and footholds, then jammed into pockets. These were friction knots that could be used to scale the main line back to the top if they fell into a crevasse. The entire PMC was rigged up the same way, ready to cross the glacier’s expanse, a nearly five-kilometer trek.
“This is Six. Ready when you are,” Deckard announced over the radio.
Dag and Jacob would be the lead element for the movement. Having served in Norwegian and Danish special operations units, respectively, they were the most qualified.
“Roger,” Jacob responded. “Heading out now, over.”
Deckard flinched as a piece of ice broke off from the cliff above them, crashed in the rocks, and showered him with powdered snow. The ice was melting and Mother Nature had given them fair warning.
* * *
Dag made sure his safety rope was fully extended between himself and Jacob, taking out any slack before pushing off on his skis. He could glide across the glacier at a fairly fast pace as things stood, but he had to take it slow, probing the snow in front of him for gaps in the ice that could be covered over. The good news was that going across on skis helped keep their weight distributed, making breakthroughs less likely.
Once out on the glacier, Shatayeva’s men came up behind them, each trooper staying on Dag’s original ski trail he had made. Fedorchenko’s men had been breaking the path all morning, and now the platoons were changing up the order of movement so the ones bringing up the rear could rest a little.
The former Norwegian commando proceeded forward, watching for trenches in the snow that would indicate a hidden crevasse. He would spot the signs of it if he was lucky, otherwise he would just have to hope that probing the snow with his ski poles would warn him before he fell in. With Jacob’s help, Dag had to focus all of his attention on navigating the glacier, staying on azimuth, and avoiding the crevasses. He couldn’t divide his attention by concerning himself with the enemy. For that purpose, a PKM machine gunner and Nikita, one of their snipers, were tied in behind Jacob.
Although the dynamics were different, the glacier also had friction points like the ice floe they had been on a few days ago. If the enemy knew they were out on the glacier, could they activate the device a second time and open a chasm so big that it swallowed them whole? Dag cast the thought out of his mind and focused on the job at hand.
Under the sun, Dag was working up a sweat and stopped several times to drink water. He rolled his eyes, remembering an American infantry saying: “Travel light, freeze all night.” The travel light part never seemed quite accurate, but the second part certainly was. He had been skiing for an hour when he spotted a crevasse field up ahead, about halfway across the glacier. Looking over his shoulder, he could see a file of soldiers winding back almost as far as he could see.
“Crevasse field up ahead,” Dag radioed back. “Keep an eye out and remember to keep your ropes taut.” Having too much slack would result in a harsh snap for everyone tied into the rope if someone fell, which could possibly pull others in before they could self-arrest with the axe blades on their ski poles.
“Dag, let me take lead for a while,” Jacob offered. “Rest your eyes for a bit. You’ve almost taken us halfway there.”
“I’m good for now. We’ll switch out after we clear this crevasse field.”
Pulling off his face mask and cramming it in a pocket, Dag skied forward with his three teammates trailing behind him, attached by the climbing rope. Probing just in front of him, the Norwegian's ski pole punched through the snow. Bucking over at the waist, Dag recovered quickly, caught by surprise. He continued probing the area, knocking the thin layer of snow down into what had been a concealed crevasse. Peering down into the chasm, Dag saw nothing but ice descending into the darkness below.
“We hit our first crevasse,” Dag said over the assault net. “Skirting around it now.”
Dag used the ski pole and probed his way around the gap, taking his lead element around it. It was a technique called an end run, one of many the Nordic warrior knew he would have to employ to get them across the glacier.
Moving on, Dag took them into the visible crevasse field in the middle of the glacier, where the elevation change, the declination of the valley floor, caused the ice to crack. Because of this, the crevasses were running mostly perpendicul
ar with their patrol. Taking another drink of water, Dag examined their options.
“Take it at an echelon?” Jacob asked from behind him.
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Dag replied.
Instead of following in Dag’s ski tracks, the lead element shook out and got parallel with one another. They would travel in this manner instead of a single file to keep a good pace without compromising safety. Their safety lines would dangle over the crevasses as the mercenaries traveled between them. Once they were situated, Dag motioned forward. At the opposite end of the rope, Nikita skied with his HK417 rifle slung across his back, barrel pointed up.
The skiers crossed the crevasse field individually, finding their own ways forward as they carefully probed and zigzagged their way between the gaps in the ice. Under his skis, the ice undulated as Dag wove his way across. Loose snow caught in the wind and blew over the edge of the crevasse to his left, then began swirling around in circles inside. Dag would probe and then edge forward, then repeat the process again and again. At one point, the crevasses became so wide that the lead four men collapsed back down into a file.
The entire field was only a few hundred meters, but they all breathed a sigh of relief when they were past it. The opposite end of the glacier could be clearly seen. Turning, Dag looked up at the glacier coming down out of the mountains. It was an amazing sight, and one that very few people got to see since it was tucked away so far up into the Canadian Arctic.
“Ready?” Jacob interrupted. He was already untying himself from the harness.
“Jo,” he confirmed. “Takk.”
“Selv Tak,” Jacob replied in his own native language.
The pair worked well together, and had even trained together a few times in Denmark’s annual counterterrorism exercise called Night Hawk. When they got together, you could hardly tell the difference between Denmark’s Jaeger Corps, Sweden’s SOG, Norway’s FSK, and Germany’s KSK unless you had an ear trained for Scandinavian languages. In MultiCam fatigues, they all seemed so similar until you heard them talking.
Dag pulled at his figure-eight knot for a minute before finally loosening it. He skied back to Jacob as he got himself free and headed to the end of the rope. The sun was beginning to sink in the sky, but they still had enough time to clear the glacier. Everything seemed to be going according the plan, which was what bothered the two senior alpine soldiers.
Jacob and Dag looked at each other as their radios crackled with static, someone trying to scream something over the net.
* * *
Deckard hit the ice hard and was immediately pulled toward the crevasse. Getting the ice axe at the top of his ski pole into the ice, he laid down on top of it as he was dragged through the snow. Up ahead, Kurt Jager did the same before reaching back with one hand, freeing an ice axe and swinging it into the ice, finally arresting them before they were sucked into the crack.
Taking a deep breath, Deckard looked back and saw Pat with both of his whippet pole axes stuck in the ice. His legs were dangling over the edge of the crevasse. With his eyebrows drooped and an upside-down smile, it was clear that the former Delta Force operator was less than happy.
Using his incredible upper-body strength, Pat muscled his way over the lip of the crevasse and dug back into the glacier with his ice axes. Pat was known for going into beast mode in the gym, not to mention in combat. Woe was the Samruk trooper who stepped into the boxing ring with Pat for morning PT, as Pat was also known for sparring with an entire platoon in a single session, one soldier at a time.
Attached by the safety line, Sergeant Major Korgan was dangling somewhere down in the crevasse.
“Korgan,” Pat called. “You alive down there?”
A grumble came as a reply. “Da, I’m alive,” Korgan said, his voice echoing around in the fissure in the ice. “Just get me out of here.”
“We’re working on it.”
Deckard worked on setting in the initial anchor. He could already see the mortar section dropping their rucks and making their way over to them to assist in the rescue effort. Pushing the handle of his ice axe into the snow, he attached the handhold of one of his Prusik knots through a carabiner, then secured it to the ice axe. It wasn’t a great anchor, but it would take much of the weight off of the safety line running from him to Kurt Jager, giving the German some slack, and some time, to set in a more substantial anchor.
Kurt buried a picket into the snow and then hammered it in with his ice axe. The free-running end of the safety line was then secured to the picket by tying it in a figure-eight knot and clipping it into another carabiner that went through a hole in the picket. With the mortar section arriving, Ivan and his men crept forward, first assisting Pat in untying from the safety line and getting free from the crevasse. Kurt and Deckard then untied, and the three used a new line to tie into.
Traveling across the glacier in such a large element was painstaking and cumbersome to say the least, but one positive aspect was that there were a lot of warm bodies around to assist in the rescue. Normally, it would be just two or three people.
“Hey,” Pat shouted down to Korgan. “We’re going to send a rope down so you can tie off your ruck, skis, and weapon. We’ll pull them up.”
“What about me!” his voice echoed up in reply.
“You’re next, but this will make it a bit easier.”
They dangled another climbing rope down the gap. It began getting tugged around.
“Need more rope!” Korgan’s accented English shouted back to them.
The mortar section gave him some more slack. A long string of curses in Russian followed from inside the crevasse, but finally, the mortar men hauled up Korgan’s gear. Meanwhile, Deckard lay on his belly and slid the shaft of an ice axe under the safety line that Korgan was hanging from to prevent it from becoming entrenched in the snow. The Samruk commander remained in place to manage the rope from the edge while the mortar section lined up around the safety line to begin hauling. With eight men, they had more than enough personnel for a quick recovery that would not involve a Prusik climb or complicated pulley system.
“Heave!” Kurt ordered.
Playing tug of war with gravity, the mortar men hauled Korgan toward the surface by hand. Deckard was still on his stomach, making sure the rope stayed over the shaft of the ice axe. Finally, Deckard could see Korgan emerging from the shadows below. He looked up, his eyes wide but alert. Once he was close to the top, Deckard, Kurt, and Pat grabbed him and pulled him to safety.
Korgan immediately jumped to his feet and began tugging on his rope harness. He’d been suspended in mid-air by the harness, and it had been biting into his thighs while putting his ballbag in an uncomfortable situation. The sergeant major was visibly relieved when his nuts were once again hanging free.
Deckard laid on his back for a moment, taking a rest. They were all saturated in sweat under their parkas at this point.
Just then, the glacier groaned, another crevasse opening somewhere.
“Jesus titty-fucking Christ,” Deckard cursed. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
* * *
After the crevasse rescue, Samruk International made it across the glacier without further incident, which was a good thing because it was nearly dusk. They could only pray that the enemy was having as difficult a time negotiating the terrain as they were. Climbing off the glacier and into the foothills of a mountain, several musk oxen scattered and disappeared into the tundra.
Leading the mercenaries uphill into a draw, Jacob found a suitable place for a patrol base where they could lay up for the night. He would leave the men to dig out their shelters and see what kind of progress he could make on the next leg of their journey. If the glacier was difficult to traverse, he was not looking forward to what came next.
The Danish commando had to crane his neck all the way back to see the top of the mountain in front of them. Tactically, it made sense to scale the mountain, secure the high ground, cut the enemy off while they were channeliz
ed in a valley, and assault down on top of them. Realistically, a mixed alpine climb, which included climbing frozen waterfalls, rocks, snow, and ice, would make their rope installation and movement over the mountain one of the most challenging tasks of his career.
Mentally reviewing historical precedents, he could only think of one in recent military history: the 1999 Kargil conflict between India and Pakistan in Kashmir. Overnight, Indian military mountaineers did a similar rope installation, and then moved Indian soldiers up to the high ground, surprising Pakistani troop positions by attacking from a completely unexpected place. It was a bold maneuver, but it worked.
Dag gathered together the winter warfare experts in the unit. Nate, Maurizio, and Jacob came over while they discussed their game plan for the rope installation. They would be working all night to have it ready by morning. Looking up the mountain, they pulled out topographical maps and talked through their angle of attack, rejecting some ideas and going with others as they tried to plot the easiest route up the slopes.
Hearing the crunch of snow, they looked over to see Deckard stomping his way over with his rucksack. He had traded out his skis for his assault snowshoes.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, slightly out of breath.
“It is a mixed climb,” Jacob said. “No getting around it.”
“We are going to have to use methods from alpine climbing, ice climbing, and rock climbing to get over this,” Nate added.
“Do we have the gear you need to do that?”
Dag looked skyward.