http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/cold-days-in-hell-20111024-1mfc5.htmlI was excited to hear for the very first time about Mawson, who became a national hero in Australia for his own Antarctic Expedition. Then I ran across this article, which has excerpts from the new book
Mawson. Seriously, did you have to sugarcoat
everything? The book includes the scene from the Terra Nova expedition when Atkinson's party found Scott's last camp.
"Yes ... yes ... indeed, it probably is. For, poking about six inches or so out of the snow in front of the mound, he can see the tips of what appear to be two crossed skis. Suddenly feeling that he is in a sacred place, Wright furiously starts to signal for the others to come hither. He does not wish to shout out to them to come quickly, as it would be "a sort of sacrilege to make a noise".
...
"And yes, this looks like ... Silas scratches back the snow covering, revealing light, unbleached drill canvas ... a tent. There is a collective intake of breath at the discovery. Slowly now, as the rest of the party watch, mesmerised, Silas gently, cautiously, pulls the flap of the tent aside as they all peer inside. And there they are, perfectly preserved, just as if they closed their eyes for the last time only a minute earlier. Bill Wilson and Birdie Bowers are in their separate sleeping bags, their faces upturned. Their skin is yellow and glassy from the cold, with many blotches of frostbite.
It is obvious by the way that Wilson's and Bowers's bodies are wrapped up that they died first and that Scott carefully and even lovingly laid them out. Uncle Bill, at least, looks peaceful enough, with his hands crossed on his chest, though he is in a half-sitting position, the prayer book his wife gave him before departure lying open by his side. Oddly, he has an expression on his face that almost seems the faint smile of one who knows that he is about to meet his maker and looks forward to it."
...
Atkinson reads out Scott's "Message to the Public", which includes an account of the noble death of Oates. So moving are the words, so emotional the occasion, Atch must pause every now and then to gather himself:
"We took risks, we knew we took them; things have come out against us, and therefore we have no cause for complaint, but bow to the will of Providence, determined still to do our best to the last ... Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman."
Here they go by the book in glorifying Scott, a glorification he utterly does not deserve. Any mention that Bowers might have been the last to die? Nope, just pump up the Scott myth by making sure that you say that Scott died last. And don't mention that yellow coloration of the skin is a symptom of scurvy in its late stages, not frostbite in its late stages.
Then they get to Mawson, and talk about how a novice goes down a crevice with the dog team he was working. The result is:
There is no question they must turn back - immediately! Without adequate food, clothing and camping equipment, they will be lucky to survive the march home. There is just enough food on this surviving sledge to keep them alive for maybe 11 or 12 days, and judging from the duration of the journey to this point it will take at least 35 days to get back to Winter Quarters.
Mismanagement of the dogs leads to their deterioration:
Although all the dogs started out well enough, all of them bar Ginger have weakened terribly.
A single shot rings out in the polar morning, its crack rolling across the stark bleakness with nary a single obstacle to raise an echo, and the weakest of the dogs, George, is dispatched. Shortly thereafter, large pieces of George are being fed to the other dogs, while small pieces are being lightly sizzled on the lid of the aluminium cooker being held over the Primus stove, the makeshift tent filling with the sound of the hissing stove and the fragrant aroma of cooking meat.
And we cannot place blame on the dogs. 21 of them had been donated by Roald Amundsen after his successful expedition, so they must have been decent.
As they are forced to man haul, tragedy comes once more:
Mawson awakens at 2am and notes that Mertz is notably still. He reaches out and tentatively touches his face. It is not just cold, but frozen. Mertz has breathed his last. [It is thought that Mertz, a vegetarian, died of ingesting too much vitamin A, which exists at a dangerously high level in husky liver.] For hours after the death, Mawson lies in his bag, turning everything that has happened over and over in his mind - strangely, the body of Mertz lying beside him offers a curious kind of companionship - as he tries to work out just what his own chances of survival are.
...
Mawson managed to trudge the final 100 miles back to the safety of Cape Denison alone, surviving a fall down a crevasse on the way. There, he discovered the Aurora had left just hours earlier; it would be unable to return because of encroaching sea ice. He and the six men who'd been left behind to look for him had to endure another winter on the ice. He finally left Antarctica on Christmas Eve, 1914, and was hailed a national hero on his return to Australia.
Thus lack of experience killed one man, lack of knowledge killed another, mismanagement of the dogs contributed most of all, and Mawson and half a dozen others were stuck in Antarctica for the winter. The British are trying hard to resurrect Scott, and resorting to attacks on Amundsen or flat out lies. Trying to make Mawson as a "hero" in Scott's mold is unoriginal and sad. There's a reason that Norway is prosecuting the skipper of the yacht
Berserk right now: it's because the Norwegians expect you to know what you are doing. At the end of the day, there's something to be said for that. Scott, Mawson, and the more recent example of the
Berserk show what happens when amateurs take on Antarctica: Antarctica usually wins.
Australia, I expected better from you.