Alive and Alone (11 page)

His compass, which he had stuck in his right coat pocket, fell from his coat as he bent down to tie his boot laces a few minutes later.  They young boy didn’t notice the loss for over an hour when he stopped to take another reading.  He frantically searched for the compass, but it was not there.  David considered going back for it, but when he turned to look at his back trail the wind and blowing snow had covered most of his tracks, so he knew the compass was long buried in snow.

Most the day David kept his heading as well as he could.  With the low clouds, the only way he could keep his bearing was to keep the mountain he had been on in view and at the same location.  By keeping the mountain over his left shoulder, he knew he was still heading the right way.  My mid-afternoon the snow started falling heavily once more and it became too difficult for him to continue walking, but since he was still in the open, he stopped to consider a shelter.  
I guess I’ll have to make a snow shelter of some kind,
he thought as he looked around and quickly noticed there were no trees, hills, or any natural shelters he could see.  He had made a snow trench once with his father in the back yard.

Using the aluminum sled he’d had his moose meat on, he scooped some snow out and made a long trench about three feet deep.  He widened it, so it was almost two feet wide and six feet long, but he didn’t have a top to keep the snow out.   He paused when the task was completed and wondered,
how do I cover the top of this thing?  There isn’t a tree for miles and I only have my casualty blanket.  I can’t use the blanket, because I’ll freeze without it.  I know!  I use blocks of snow!

David tried using his sheath knife to cut the snow, but the blade was too short, so as he looked around for a better tool, it dawned on him to use the aluminum he used for a sled.  He straightened the metal and it worked fine, though his first blocks were too thin and fell apart when he attempted to pick them up.  After attempting a few different thicknesses of snow, he finally discovered that a block about ten inches thick worked fine.  He quickly covered his shelter and crawled inside with all of his equipment.  The entrance to his shelter he covered with the aluminum from the sled.

The young boy had only been in his shelter for a little less than an hour when he suddenly developed a bad headache.  He opened his fanny-pack, pulled out the minimum first aid kit, and took two of the pills for headaches.  Dave was well aware of the dangers of taking any medicine because his father had often warned him of the risks of even over the counter medications.  His dad had said adult painkillers were especially dangerous for children.  David felt he had little choice because his head was pounding.

No sooner had he taken the medication, than Dave remembered a conversation that had taken place a few years earlier, when he’d attempted to make an igloo in the back yard.  He had been able to construct most of the igloo, but he was unable to get the final block in place.  Each time he'd attempted to place the last block for the igloo into position it collapsed and he could not figure out why.  

Finally, his father had walked up, smiled, and said, “Igloos are not easy to make Dave.  And, as you’ve learned the final block is the hardest to put into place.”

“Dad,” David has replied as he glanced up at his father as he started cutting another block of snow, “how do the Eskimos do it then?”

His father laughed and said, “They don’t make igloos much anymore.  Oh, I suspect some of them still know how it’s done, but most of the old ways are gone or quickly disappearing.  Most folks just dig a trench shelter and throw a tarp over it and cover it with snow.”

“Why would the old ways disappear?”

“Dave, with contact with the white man, some of the natives of Alaska have changed in ways we can’t even begin to imagine.  Now they have snow machines, wooden homes, skis, aluminum boats, and the list goes on.  So, all of that has changed the needs of the people as well.  Most of the time now a native will throw up a tent or use a tarp for a shelter, or as I said, makes a snow trench to keep warm in.”

“I guess the change is good for them, huh?”

His father thought for a few seconds and then replied, “Who is to say if it’s good for them or not.  I guess it has made their lives a little easier, but it’s sad to see the old ways die.”

“Is a snow trench hard to make?”

“Huh-uh, a trench shelter is not hard at all Dave.  You just dig a long trench, cover it with a tarp, pine boughs, or whatever you have on hand and you’re done.  But, always remember to keep a hole in your shelter, so you have ventilation.”

Suddenly, the thought of ventilation struck Dave and he suspected what had caused his headache, the lack of fresh air.  Taking his knife, Dave cut a hole about three inches in diameter and made a ventilation hole.  Within a few minutes, his headache disappeared.  Feeling much better, the young man pulled an energy bar from his fanny-pack and slowly nibbled at it.  He was hungry, but he suspected a lot of his hunger was because he knew he didn’t have any food left, not to really speak of except a little meat.  He had one more piece of dried moose meat and one energy bar and that was it.

What David really wanted and needed was a hot drink, but he couldn't think of a way to make a fire.  While he had a way to light a fire, he had nothing that would burn long enough to allow him to boil water.  He considered the survival book, but since it was paper he knew it wouldn’t last long enough to make his water boil, nor would anything else he had with him.  Instead of a hot drink, the young man stuck a piece of hard candy in his mouth and waited for it to melt.  He knew the sugar in the sweet would give him some energy and help raise his body temperature, but he knew he was in for a long and cold night.

All night long, Dave heard the wind howling just outside of his shelter and at one time, he became scared of being buried alive,
what if so much snow falls I can’t get out in the morning?
He thought as he rolled over to get more comfortable, except he suddenly remembered he had his sheath knife, so he could always dig his way out.  At times off and on, he’d take the blade of his knife and poke it through the hole he had for ventilation.  He wanted to make sure he continued to breathe clean and fresh air.

It was many long hours later before Dave noticed the light from his ventilation hole had grown from black to a light gray.  He was shivering from the cold and knew he had to get up and continue moving toward the smoke he had seen.  At least as he moved he had been warm and though he had survived a bad blizzard, the young man felt anything but lucky.  When he pushed the metal away from the entrance to his shelter, he noticed it was difficult to move, but after a few minutes of struggling, it fell to the side.  

As soon as he stuck his head from the shelter, he saw the overcast sky with low gray clouds and the threat of more snow.  As soon as he had crawled from his shelter, he stood, stretched, and felt his whole body ache. He was sure some of his body pain was still from the airplane crash, though he suspected most of it came from sleeping poorly in the cramped spaces of his shelter.

David snapped the fanny-pack around his waist and remembering the sunglasses in his coat pocket he pulled them out and put them on.  While the sun showed no hint of making an appearance at all this day, he felt the glasses might cut down on the wind in his eyes.  The day before the blowing wind had caused some irritation to his eyes and he wanted to prevent that from happening again, if he could.  Taking one quick glance around the open nothingness that surrounded him, he moved off once more, keeping the mountain over his shoulder.

The snow was mid-calf deep and every few minutes the young man had to stop and rest to avoid overheating.  By the end of the day, both legs ached and he was very hungry.  It had taken all of the will power he had not to eat the last energy bar he had in his pack.  The only positive aspect of the whole day he could see, as it began to grow dark, was he now had a campsite in a thin grove of trees.  As well as he could tell when he decided to stop for the night, the trees grew thicker a little further along, but he was simply too exhausted to go on.  He quickly gathered some firewood, started a small fire, and made a crude shelter using the limbs from some of the smaller trees.  With his shelter and fire taken care of David sat on a small log to relax.  It had been a very tiring day for him.

As his canteen cup of pine needle tea boiled on the hot coals of the fire, he felt a pain in his right foot, near the toes.  He removed his boot and was surprised to find the flesh white and shriveled up as if he’d been in the bathtub too long. The cause of his pain was cracked skin under his middle toe.  Unsure what to do, he took his boot from the other foot and placed them both to dry near the fire, resting both feet on his boots.  He wished he had some clean and dry socks to put on, but they had burned in his shelter fire.  Instead, he laid his damp socks on his pack near enough to the fire to heat but not burn.

The snow had started again, but it was once more a lazy snow and it didn’t concern him nearly as much as the blizzard the day before.  While he was still very much alone, there was comfort in having a fire and being in the trees.  As he placed another log on his small fire he thought,
I wonder what my mom and sister are doing right now?  I’ll bet they are having a great meal and worried about us.
 Dave never felt the wet tears run down his cold cheeks as he unconsciously stared into the dancing flames of his fire.  His only answer was the snapping of the damp wood as it dried in the flames.

CHAPTER 9

“C
OLONEL
WILCOX
,
this is Sergeant Barnes with the weather shop.  I was asked to inform you that the weather break we have will last close to five hours.”  A voice on the phone said to Frank Wilcox as he sat at his desk.

“Thank God, and thank you as well Barnes.”  Wilcox spoke, hung up and dialed the number to the alert shack.

“Captain Zlotkowski.”  

“Zee, Frank Wilcox here, it’s an immediate go.  But, Zee, you only have about a five hour window to reach the site and return.”

“With our flight time that will leave us enough time to do a good search Colonel.”

Wilcox was quiet for a moment and then said, “Zee, if the weather starts to turn bad you're to abort the mission.  Do you understand me?”

Zlotkowski immediately replied, “Roger that, Colonel Wilcox.  I think we’ll be okay with a five hour window, and I’ll not risk the safety of my crew sir.”

As Colonel Frank Wilcox hung up the phone, he wondered if his order to abort with bad weather just signed death certificates for Jim and David Wade, but he knew he had to think of the safety of his aircrews first.  He stood, looked out his window for a moment and thought,
Please, God, let my men find something
.

An hour later the colonel was in the command post listening to Save One, Zlotkowski’s helicopter, as they neared the location were the commercial pilot had picked up the emergency beeper.

“Rescue Center, this is Save One and we are at the beeper location.  I have nothing visual to report at this time.  We have started our search pattern and I will keep you informed.”

“Roger, Save One, understand you have started your search pattern.”

Many long and tense minutes pasted as Frank Wilcox sipped his cold coffee and waited to hear the radio come alive once more.  

Finally Zee’s voice said, “Center, Save One, we are picking up a very weak beacon on guard.  We will move around a little and see if it will come in stronger.”

“Roger, Save One, copy.”

“Center,” The radio broke the silence of the room a few minutes later, “we are where the signal is the strongest, but have nothing visual at, ah . . . wait one.”

“I think they just saw something.”  The staff sergeant seated at the radio said as he turned to look at the colonel.

“Thank God, let’s hope so son.”  Wilcox spoke as he moved closer to the radio.

“Center, this is Save One, we have found the crash site.  I repeat, we have found the crash site, but no sign of survivors.  I'm sending a P.J. down to check the scene.”

“Copy, you have the crash site visual.  Keep us informed.”

In the air, Captain Zlotkowski grew apprehensive as he realized there were no survivors on the ground near the crash.  He’d been in the business long enough to know any survivors would be jumping and screaming like crazy people at the hovering aircraft.  Looking back over his shoulder he asked, “John, you ready to go down?”

Sergeant John Banks was a United States Air Force Pararescue man, or P.J. as they were commonly called, and had long months of training behind him, as well as two years of active flying.  While this was not his first rescue, it would be the first one with fatalities and it looked as if there were no survivors.  He gave Zlotkowski a big grin and said, “Yes sir.  I’ll check the wreckage first and then contact you to let you know what I find.”

The crew chief moved the forest penetrator over to where Banks could sit on the device as a wench lowered it.  Once on the ground he would disconnect from the penetrator and then search for survivors.  The P.J. positioned the device between his legs, disconnected his communications cable to the aircraft, and moved toward the open door.  Stopping, he double-checked the strap from the device that ran under his arms and around his back.  He then stepped out into space and the crew chief lowered him by wench to the snow.