Haines’ and Harrison’s job was full of minor difficulties, which sprung from the excessive cold. When the temperature reached 60° below, the supposedly non-freezing ink which was used in the pens of the self-recording instruments froze so hard they would not work. A bit of alcohol and a few drops of glycerine were added to the ink, and thereafter the instruments recorded beautifully during the coldest weather. Once a week the record sheets in the thermograph and the hydrograph had to be changed, which required bare hands and ruffled more than one disposition. Approaching 70° below zero the clocks of the recording instruments failed, even though nearly all traces of oil had been removed from the mechanisms; however, after a few adjustments, they worked perfectly. Rime and snow often collected in a hard, gritty layer on the anemometer cups, producing a slight error in the reading of wind velocities; it was necessary to clean them frequently. The powdery drift of the blizzard sifted through minute cracks in the instruments and not only impeded the movement of the pens, but often accumulated around the drums in quantities large enough to stop the clocks. During the worst blizzards of the winter, the meteorological department was in its stations most of the time, fussing with clocks and instruments, treating them with meticulous solicitude but deploring the urge that let them be led to the Antarctic.
Another source of worry was the formation of frost on the lenses of the theodolite. Harrison, following the tiny flame of the candle as the balloon mounted higher and higher in the night, had to scrape off the frost with a small stick every few minutes, lest he lose sight of the balloon. During the coldest weather, frost occasionally formed on the inside of the lens, and there was no remedy except to bring the instrument into the house, take it apart and bake it thoroughly.
In spite of these handicaps, the instruments functioned as well as could be expected under the severe conditions: in spite of its wilful perversion of surplus man-power, the meteorology department functioned with consistent excellence; and the records are extremely important and trustworthy.
The magnetic work was another branch of the scientific investigation which was prosecuted throughout the winter. This work was done under the direction of Physicist Davies and his assistant, Arnold Clark. The instruments were provided by the Department of Terrestrial Magnetism of the Carnegie Institution, of Washington, D. C.
The subject of terrestrial magnetism, which concerns the lines of force that make the earth one huge magnet, is a vastly important problem of research. About the earth there lies a field of magnetic forces the origin of which is still unsolved, and science stands doubtful at its boundaries. The problems of magnetism are closely tied to every-day affairs. Magnetic storms influence wire and radio communication and the exact relationship between magnetic storms and the electrical condition of the atmosphere is unknown and troublesome. Lack of data concerning magnetic variation and its progressive changes has impeded navigation; on approaching the Antarctic, we had seen for ourselves how unreliable the ship’s compasses had become; in flight they were almost useless. Auroral displays still defy explanation, and scientists wonder what causes the regular appearance of certain types of aurora and their movements, why they occur more frequently at some places than at others, and what relation they bear to magnetic disturbances.
How complex and wide this field of research is may be judged from the fact that despite inquiries that have been made all over the earth, the data accumulated has not been sufficient to provide a complete explanation of magnetic phenomena. The most fruitful field for investigation is the polar regions, especially the Antarctic. Here magnetic storms are more intense than anywhere else, the transient magnetic and electric variations and storms are more pronounced because of the nearness to the magnetic Pole and the changes in the magnetic force of the earth are considerable over comparatively small distances. Moreover, because of the strides made in allied sciences, particularly relating to correlations between magnetism, polar lights, atmospheric electricity, radio reception, earth-currents and solar activity, the need of more data from the polar regions was pertinent and important.
This branch of the expedition was fortunate for several reasons. Little America was situated far enough from the South Magnetic Pole to allow accurate measurements of magnetic elements to be continuously recorded. It was well situated in the belt of the greatest auroral activity in the southern hemisphere. And the year 1929 was a particularly promising one for magnetic-electrical observations for the reason that it coincided more or less with a period of maximum sunspot activity. The previous magnetic and electrical observations which were made in the Antarctic, first by the German expedition, 1901-1903 and the British expeditions, 19011904 and 1910-1913, were done in a period of minimum sunspot activity.
The observations were made in two huts, one of which was for a continuous photographic record of the magnetic elements, the other for absolute observations made at intervals to fix the values on the photographic records. The first of these, which was called the non-magnetic hut, was built in the snow about 70 yards south of the main tunnel between the houses. Because iron could not be used in the structure, “Chips” Gould used only brass and copper nails when he made the frame. Then Ronne made a brown tent to fit it. The house was entirely buried in the snow for the sake of heat insulation, as all experiments with artificial heat proved to be more of a nuisance than a help. Nevertheless, the temperature in the hut on occasions fell as low as 35° below zero.
In this hut three elements were measured—the declination, horizontal intensity and vertical intensity of the earth’s magnetic field. Because the instruments recorded photographically, it was necessary to keep the hut in darkness.
The second observatory, which was used for making measurements of absolute values, was nothing more than a house of snow blocks, with a canvas roof. As part of the observations were astronomical, the hut was above the surface. It was one of the coldest places in Little America. Each series of observations took from four to five hours, and between the cold and the wild puppies which repeatedly invaded the place, Davies had a dreadful time. Dr. Gould lessened the burden, however, by volunteering to assist him, and they took turns thereafter making observations while the other held the puppies at bay. The incautious visitor who did not announce his arrival by a shout was likely to be greeted with a shower of ice missiles.
The observatory functioned from May, 1929, to February, 1930, and more than 240 daily records were obtained. It is too early to generalize the results obtained. Magnetic conditions were, in general, highly disturbed. The declination or direction of the compass frequently varied as much as three degrees during a single day, and on one day oscillated through an arc of 4½°· Quiet conditions were the exception, and these occurred mostly during the winter and spring. The angle of dip at Little America in 1929 was 82⅓° (at the magnetic Pole it would be 90°), the declination averaged 107° east of north, i.e., the direction of the south magnetic Pole was 17° north of west.
In addition to the magnetic work, and auroral observations, Davies continued the experiments on the determination of condensation-nuclei which he had begun on the voyage across the Pacific. Nucleation determinations are of great importance in the study of the electrical condition of the atmosphere, and the studies carried out by Davies were the first ever made on the Pacific ocean or in the polar regions. With Dr. Coman, he measured the cooling power of the air under varying conditions of temperature and wind velocity; and as assistant to Dr. Gould he made a study of glaciological conditions at Little America, particularly with respect to the measurements of temperature gradients, density determinations and the effects of different temperature periods on the growth of crystals.
Our Welsh magnetician therefore was one of the busiest men in Little America. With a carefree impunity we had to admire, he scrambled in and out of some of the worst crevasses about the camp, during the winter, risking life and limb for the sake of getting a few temperature readings at varying depths, a cluster of ice crystals or a specimen of ice.
The
Radio Department, which was under the direction of Mr. Malcolm Hanson, was one of the most effective and important activities of the expedition. Few men worked harder than Hanson, Petersen and Mason; and none did more to smooth its way. Much of the equipment necessary for communication had not been developed to a point where it was commercially available when the expedition left the United States, and a considerable part of it had to be especially designed and constructed for conditions in the Antarctic. The radio receivers carried in the three planes, for example, were literally built from the bottom up by Mr. Hanson and his staff, after preliminary flights in the United States. How important and intricate was the communications problem of the expedition may be judged from the fact that 24 transmitters and 31 receivers were used. There was sufficient equipment to supply the two ships, the main base, three airplanes, three dog team parties and two sub-bases. Of this a large part was redesigned and rebuilt during the winter.
As with the other phases of our multiple activities, radio was studied exhaustively. Constant and effective communication was essential to Little America, to the flight activities and to the trail parties. There were frequent conferences during the winter at which the details of all equipment were worked out. The measure of the thoroughness with which Hanson, Petersen and Mason worked lies in the fact that not once did their equipment fail us.
The emergency equipment developed for the planes was superb. The three planes were capable of operating on both high and intermediate frequencies, and therefore were virtually immune to all but excessive radio disturbances. In addition each plane was equipped with an emergency set, for use in case of a forced landing. There were also provided a radio compass and a directive radio transmitting beacon, both of which were effective, within certain limits, as a means of navigating the planes in the event of sudden fog or blizzard shutting down visibility while in flight. By means of the first, which would cooperate with intermediate frequency signals from the plane, a bearing could be transmitted to the plane from the base to indicate the proper steering direction. The second sent out a distinct type of signal exactly to the north, south, east or west; and by following this path the radio man or the pilot on the flight could guide the plane back to the base. This type of beacon, which is called the crossed-coil, equi-signal beacon, has since been developed to a high state of perfection by the Army and the Department of Commerce and is now used extensively on commercial airways. But when we went south it was still largely experimental.
The same care and thoroughness went into the development of the radio equipment of the southern sledge parties. The problem here was a peculiar one, and yet not radically different from others that faced us. The equipment had to be sturdy enough to withstand the pounding of sledging, and yet light in weight. It had to be simple to operate, because most of the men who were to use it were comparatively inexperienced. The sets were built and redesigned during the winter, and use was to prove how shrewdly. At the same time, the men developed de Ganahl and Crockett into fairly good operators for the Geological and the Supporting Parties. Both Smith and June took an active part, when time allowed, in radio activities.
Apart from its practical assistance, which was immeasurable, the radio department conducted an unbroken series of research investigations of radio conditions in the Antarctic. With Davies, Hanson made a study of the relations between radio and magnetic conditions. He also made a study of the Kennelly-Heaviside Layer, a mysterious phenomenon which is described as a radio roof which surrounds the earth and is essential for all long-distance, short-wave communication. It is presumed to consist of electric charges or ions liberated by the sun’s radiations in the upper levels of the atmosphere, where the air pressure is negligible. The position of the lower limit of the layer apparently varies according to the height of the sun, and hence upon the time of the day, the time of the year and geographical position. As an electrical conductor it has the property of reflecting, by progressive refraction, the radio waves which reach it from the earth, thus sending them back to a useful path, rather than permitting them to escape and become lost in space. For years this phenomenon had been studied by engineers, and a number of conflicting theories prevailed as to its nature and extent in the Antarctic, particularly with regards to the effects of the prolonged absence of the sun during the winter months and the proximity of the magnetic Pole.
Hanson developed a method of measuring the height and condition of the Heaviside Layer at various seasons, and he took to great pains to test it. During the coldest weather in July, when the temperature was close to 70° below zero, he, Vaughan and de Ganahl made several sledge trips ten miles out on the Barrier, to send groups of electrically timed, brief radio impulses to Petersen. The first time they were ready to start, the dogs froze their noses and paws, and the trip had to be postponed. Later Hanson went out with de Ganahl, Crockett and Bursey, and the four of them man-hauled a sledge for five miles, in a temperature of 68° below zero. They planted flags every 100 yards to guide them through the darkness. When they pitched camp, it was so cold taking measurements that Hanson, who was sitting on a box, put a primus stove behind his legs, covered it with his parka and became his own furnace. But in the end he got the measurements he wanted.
The most fascinating place of all, however, was the main station in the Mess Hall, WFA. Here Petersen and Mason eavesdropped on the world. They chatted with the Graf Zeppelin on its flight around the world. They talked with the Russian Polar Expedition at Franz Joseph Land. They communicated with the University of Michigan’s station at Greenland. An enormous amount of traffic flowed between them and the experts under Fred Meinholtz, who is the chief of the radio department of the New York Times. The handling of this traffic—in all, 2,000,000 words were transmitted from WFA—was possible only through the exercise of patience and resourcefulness. Time and time again, when important messages were awaiting delivery, the ether resisted the impulses, and Mason and Petersen spent hours in painstaking experiment, shifting from one frequency to another, until they found a “break” that would let them through. I think these men took particular pride in overcoming difficulties when they were at their worst. There were very few days when they were not able to maintain their regular two-way schedules with New York and the ships at New Zealand.
No picture of the expedition’s operation during the winter would be complete without mention of the ships’ party at Dunedin. Their job was a hard job, for waiting is always hard on energetic men. Nevertheless the crews under Captain Brown and Captain Melville never lost their sturdy independence and patience. For the expedition’s treasury was running low, Commissary Officer Reichart was obliged to prune expenses to the bone, and the men lived under fairly straitened circumstances. Yet most of them asked for no more money than was absolutely necessary to support them and their families. Taylor, for example, took his dogs to Mt. Cook and used them as transport, causing them to earn part of their expenses.
Nor would it be complete without mention also of our New Zealand representative, Mr. Tapley, and his general manager, Mr. Duncan. No members of the expedition worked harder than they; and I confess frankly that without their efficient and delightful cooperation we might have found our task impossibly hard. The Dominion of New Zealand, from the Prime Minister down, was always kind and helpful; but the Tapleys and Mr. Duncan were generous to a fault.
Footnotes
1 “Scott’s Last Journey,” vol. i, p. 374
1 Amundsen, “The South Pole,” i, 370.
1 I confess that this dialogue has been edited. No stenographic form could hope to catch Balchen’s charming accents and his experiments in syntax, and none would dare repeat the emphatic expletives which sooner or later become accepted words in the polar idiom.
2 The “Hump” is the name we conferred upon that part of the Queen Maud Range which we hoped to hurdle. In our calculations for the flight, we decided to climb the Axel Heiberg Glacier, more or less following Amundsen’s path, because it appeared to present, according to Amundsen�
��s surveys, the lowest stairway to the plateau. The height of the pass was estimated to be 10,500 feet. Surrounding it were the great peaks of Ole Engelstad, Don Pedro Cristopherson and Nansen, rising from 15,000 to 19,000 feet, according to Amundsen.
1 By service ceiling is meant the altitude at which an airplane has still the capacity of a rate of climb of 100 feet per minute. Absolute ceiling is that altitude at which it can climb no farther. These quantities change, naturally, with a given plane according to load and horsepower. Owing to the great elevations with which we had to contend, we were reluctant to diminish the service ceiling below this point lest we meet strong winds in the pass or over the plateau, in which case we would require a generous reserve of horsepower to climb or maneuver out of danger.
1 The reason for this is probably already clear. A lessened load meant less strain on the skis at the take-off, better performance in flight and an increased ceiling.
1 Amundsen, quoting from his diary of January 18, on the return from the Pole, described sighting again at Lat. 8l° 20’ the pressure ridges he had seen on the way out, and behind them a great mass of ridges and peaks, running northeast and southwest, as far as the eye could see. “Great was our surprise when, a short time later, we made out high bare land in the same direction, and not long after that two lofty white summits to the southeast, probably in about (Lat.) S”. Amundsen, “The South Pole”, ii, p. 170.
1 These figures represent geological miles.
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