TATLOCK EARLY HISTORY

by John Tatlock

submitted through Laval Desbiens

 

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 CHAPTER 3

Assignment in the Arctic ... 1953 - 1954

 

In 1953, early in my employment at Northern Electric, the opportunity was presented to me to lead a group of Canadian engineers participating in a joint US and Canadian defense project in the western part of the Arctic. 

 

Regrettably, it meant leaving my family for a year, a decision that was influenced by the need to save enough money to help pay for our recently purchased home.  After serious reflection, I took that less traveled road which turned out to be the most adventurous year in my life.     

 

This project was a top secret installation designed by the Bell Telephone Laboratories and Western Electric to establish an experimental distant early warning line along part of the Arctic coast stretching from Alaska to the Yukon.  The technical personnel were chosen from the American Bell System and their Canadian counterpart.  Our section of the project was to be located predominately in the Yukon along the border of Alaska. 

 

We would install and then operate for the first year, state of the art defense equipment designed by the Bell Telephone Laboratories (and others) in preparation for an expansion of the warning line across the whole Arctic Ocean rim facing the Soviet Republic. 

 

At that time the Northern Electric was still part of the American Bell System family and we were expected to participate in this unique type of family enterprise.  The Canadian contingent also included several members from Bell Canada and Maritime Telephone and Telegraph.

 

In September of 1953, after two months technical training in Streator, Illinois on the specialized equipment, and passing physical and psychological examinations, our technical team traveled to the USAF Elmendorf Airbase in Fairbanks, Alaska.

 

We then boarded a military airplane to cross the Brook’s Range to a US Military base located on the Arctic coast of Alaska at Barter Island.  There we joined the Western Electric contingent for our tactical assignment. 

 

 On the first night in our temporary military lodging we were greeted and challenged as newcomers to the Arctic by the previously settled American contingent with a “roasting” snowball fight (easily thwarted by the Canadians).   Next day we were taught how to build an igloo out of blocks of snow, harness up a team of dogs and how to live like Eskimos in unheated canvas tents in below zero weather - again perhaps not so unusual to Canadians.

 

We met our first Eskimos and were awarded the membership in the Northern Lights Club of Adventurers for those who have ventured to live north of the Arctic Circle.   

 

There was a small Eskimo population living near the military camp and during recreation they joined in with the technical personnel playing volleyball and outdoor activities like going with them while seal hunting.

 

We learned about the permafrost which covers the surface of the ice and earth to a depth of a several feet. Our permanent buildings were all raised a couple of feet above this permafrost layer because otherwise the heated floor of the building would melt the surface, and would eventually sink into it. 

 

We learned to install a telephone pole when all that was required was a steam jet aimed vertically into the permafrost surface to drill a hole in the ice. Standing the pole upward in the hole overnight resulted in a frozen permanent installation.  

 

In winter, the same steam jet would be used to cut an access hole in the ice covered lake to draw water for drinking.  A mobile Herman Nelson gasoline powered heater warmed up the engines on aircraft prior to take-off. 

 

Because the Arctic winds are fierce and almost continuous in the middle of winter and blow either due east or due west at this latitude, the buildings were built long and narrow and laid out to be parallel to the wind direction.  The entrances to buildings were designed to be on the north or south sides to avoid being covered in by the drifting snow.   The Eskimos use the lines in the wind blown snow as a compass to indicate the east - west direction.  Today we could harness this wind to generate electricity for the Eskimos.

 

At this latitude the months of December and January were for the most part in complete darkness.  In late January it was a special event to see the first rays of sunlight come up over the horizon.   In the spring the ocean ice suddenly bursts open with an explosive sound and churning of the pressure released icy water.  In summer the plants sprint up from their permafrost bed, come to full size and blossom in a few weeks – as if in a hurry to propagate while the sun shines.

 

The Canadian contingent stayed for the first month at the project’s main military base at Barter Island, Alaska assisting in the installation of the array of antennas and associated equipment.  During this time the nearby US Military Base even had a visit from a charming military USO show which arrived as a diversion for the military troops stationed there, and we were invited.  This was a big event in this part of the world where Eskimo ladies were the only females.  

 

Soon after, as planned the Canadian contingent was flown to the only site located in Canada which was situated along the ocean shore line in the Yukon about 50 miles east of the Alaska border with Canada. 

 

Already built when we arrived was a half-mile long modern air strip with lights, raised several feet above the tundra along the shore line to accommodate large aircraft, as well as some equipment buildings on a nearby raised main camp site. 

 

As soon as we were settled in bunks in our military style tents, like enthusiastic Canadians we offered to assist the building contractors in an effort to get our permanent buildings ready while there was still daylight.  Like other good intentions, this did not go unpunished.  On the second day there I receiving a complaint raised by the contractor’s union representative who said that my people were taking away their overtime hours.   Finally when the buildings were completed it was our turn to install, test and operate the specially designed equipment.  

 

For recreation we had been provided with state-of-the-art powerful Amateur radio equipment and the best rhombic antenna. A few of us were already licensed amateur radio operators so this immediately served the whole team as a means of making phone-patch calls to the folks back home.

 

Needless to say, this was the first equipment to be installed.  My call sign at home in Quebec was VE2GY so while there we were assigned the Yukon call letters VE8GY.

 

 The project planners had also thought of supplying us with some way of occupying the lonely hours and sent up the most impressive model train set that money could buy.  It took months of spare time to build and then kept many of us amused and occupied during the non-working hours of those dreary winter months.

 

Living on the shores of the Arctic Ocean for a year was a great adventure and a life experience which will never be forgotten.  A description of a few of these adventures follows.

 

 

 

We named our radar site Komakuk, after the Eskimo family living there.  It is about 50 miles east of Yukon/Alaska border and about 20 miles west of the local RCMP post at Hershel Island. 

 

About 100 miles to the east of here was the Eskimo town of Tuktoyaktuk which at that time was the principal town on the northern coast of the Canadian Northwest Territories and now in 2005 has grown from a hundred to one thousand inhabitants. 

 

This town’s current problem is global warming causing the melting of the permafrost and erosion of the coast line along the Beaufort Sea.

 

The base location included the construction of an excellent airport runway nearly half a mile long, bordering the ocean shoreline.  Since this was our lifeline connection to the civilized world our project team kept it in perfect condition for landing the military supply planes.  The military and private pilots always praised our technicians for maintaining its perfect surface. 

 

 

 

One day several of us were working on the repair of the runway landing lights when we heard the frantic barking of the Eskimo dogs.  Looking up we saw that they were embroiled in attacking a large white polar bear who was heading in our direction.  

 

The dogs were not afraid of the bear and their fast maneuvering and snarling had stopped the bear in his advance toward us.  Our Arctic training course included a warning that polar bears were the most dangerous threat to people in the area, even to the Eskimos.  Looking up we quickly noted the danger and raced across the permafrost towards the garage which was the nearest building. 

 

One technician had climbed up into the rafters. A mechanic ran to the glass enclosed rifle rack in the mess hall and returned to the scene where the dogs were still battling the bear, now clawing at the garage door.  Two skillful rifle shots settled the problem and we had a hero with a polar bear skin to send home to his family. 

 

A sequel to this event came a month later when we had a visitor from the RCMP post at Hershel Island (about 20 miles North-East of our site) who came with his dog team to check on a report from the Eskimos of this exciting event.  They all spoke the language and Eskimos were their regular source of neighborhood information. 

 

He was not concerned about our potential danger but rather to serve us with a complaint that we had broken the law permitting the export from the Yukon of a polar bear skin without a Government of Canada permit.   Since this police post is located over twenty miles away on an island North-East of our station we never expected this fabled Canadian arm of the law to extend to such an isolated location. 

 

After staying a few days as our guest of honor (our kitchen and cook were the best in the region) he allowed us to purchase the permit, pre-dating the shipping date.  We were amused that he said nothing about the fact that we (and our American colleagues) had all entered Canada from Alaska without passing through the office of Canadian Immigration or Customs - because there was none at that remote border point. 

 

A very sad event occurred one day when one of our members signed out a rifle from the rack and went out hunting by himself.  Hunting expeditions were permitted but normally in a group and usually accompanied by an Eskimo from the nearby tiny encampment.   When he did not return several hours later a search party went to look for him.  

 

Eskimos reported that he had been seen near the bank of the river.   The river was ice covered with a fast flowing current underneath and not safe to cross at this time of year. 

 

His hat was found floating on the broken ice at the side of the shore.  Unfortunately we never found his body, probably carried away under the ice.   This fateful situation was difficult to explain to his family in the United States who were convinced that the Russians had captured him.

 

The December and January months were the most difficult ones to live through.  The weather was at its worst with very high winds producing horizontal snow storms so strong that it was difficult to walk outside between buildings.  One had to harness oneself to a tethered rope or hold on to guy wires when navigating outside to keep from being blown away.

 

The periods of dimmed daylight made it difficult to perform the normal tasks involved in maintaining the camp.  The blowing snow enveloped most of the buildings with a covering of hard packed snow, the kind used by Eskimos to make blocks for their igloos.   Only the doors at the narrow ends of the buildings were blown clear enough to open without serious digging.   The vehicles and other outdoor equipment were covered deep in the deep snow, out of sight.

 

Our water source, the nearby lake, had frozen over to a ten foot depth so that drilling a hole with the steam jet to fill the 500 gallon mobile tank with water was an all day chore for three men.  For most of the two worst months the support planes did not bring in supplies because the tempestuous winds would not permit them to land on the wind-swept airstrip.

 

The project engineer from the Bell Telephone Laboratories who had come for a week to discuss the progress of the operation was forced to stay there for two months. 

 

A few days before Christmas however one adventurous Air Force pilot and his crew managed to swoop down and jettison a couple of Christmas trees on the runway.   We retrieved them with their branches a bit mangled and restored them to decorate a place in our dining hall. This act boosted our spirits - just knowing that our colleagues had been thinking about us in our isolated situation. 

 

The amateur radio facilities were very helpful to allow the staff to communicate with their families by “phone patch” on a regular basis.

 

 

The year spent in the Arctic was an adventurous one but we were all glad to see the sun come up over the horizon again and as winter turned to spring, to hear the first thunderous crash one morning as the Arctic ice cover suddenly broke with one grand display of force. 

 

We ran the several hundred meters to the shore to see the great chunks of ice churned up by the strong winds in a display of spontaneous frenzy. 

 

A couple of Canadian members of our crew actually ran into the freezing water just to be able to say that they had bathed in the Arctic Ocean.  This qualified them as members of the Polar Bear Club.

 

 One day an Eskimo neighbor rushed in to notify us that there were strangers with a dog team approaching.   The Eskimo eyes are so keen that they could pick up movement across the blank snow covered permafrost long before we could detect it. 

 

Being at a secret military post we were always concerned when unknowns were approaching our base. In this case, the group was made up of two strangers with an Eskimo led dog team, which were unknown to the local Eskimos. 

 

We went out to meet them and it was evident from the condition of both them and their dogs that they had traveled a long distance.  We were even more surprised to discover that one was a white woman.  They appeared friendly and harmless and after a greeting we invited them inside where it was comfortable and out of the chilling sub-zero north wind.   After a few moments, they told us who they were and the reason for being so far from civilization. 

 

His name was Scotty MacNeish from the Ottawa National Museum.   He was on a sabbatical from his office with his wife June to explore the celebrated mysteries of this part of the Canadian Arctic.   He believed that this particular region was where he could find remains of Ice Age inhabitants and hopefully document their primitive livelihood.   He planned to stay in the region a couple of months and search for remnants of this ancient society, bringing the fundamental digging tools and living facilities to carry out his mission.   Their Eskimo guide was Alex Stefansson from Aklavik, the Eskimo son of the famous Stefansson explorer.

 

Scotty turned out to be a very interesting and knowledgeable person.   He was eager to stay in the comfort of our camp for several weeks and explore the nearby area, and our team spent many evenings listening to his tales.  For our part it was pleasant to share our restricted living facilities with visitors like Scotty and June as a diversion from the routine of Arctic life style.  Just having a woman in the group seemed to brighten up the moments, although a bit awkward for dormitory accommodation. 

 

One day as the weather was turning warmer Scotty harnessed up his dogs and they went off into the wilderness to continue their study.  We learned later that he had returned to Ottawa and published a report that he had discovered archaeological evidence of what may be the oldest known civilization in the Canadian Arctic.  Scotty reported that his search turned up one of the largest recent finds of prehistoric artifacts, when he kicked at a mound of earth on the shore of the Firth River in northern Alaska.

 

Our newly installed enemy aircraft defense warning system had been installed, tested and operational for several months.  Watching the console of instruments and the sensitive radar screens had become routine to the operators.  The only thing that was unusual was the occasional false alarm caused by a flock of birds tripping the electronic Doppler Effect McGill Fence designed to detect low flying enemy aircraft.  

 

During these incidents, nothing suspicious was ever detected on our radar sweeps, however each event was duly reported to defense command headquarters in New York. 

 

Occasionally a commercial aircraft would call in to ask our position (since our secret location and its radio beacon were still not shown on their flight maps).   This usually left them confused and probably annoyed.  One concerned KLM flight navigator radioed in to confirm their location, thinking they were lost, and then with their typical politeness, thanked us for our assistance. 

 

Then early one morning our always alert night shift console operators noticed something different - three small dots started to appear on the radar screen.  A second and third scan of the rotating beam and the targets were becoming larger.   The operators responded with an immediately alert to central US Defense Command in New York, simultaneously alerting our other project stations in Alaska to our West.  

 

It appeared that three enemy aircraft were approaching from over the North Pole without providing us with any identification.   From then on all stations were reporting with tracking information on the approaching aircraft.  This continued until the intruding aircraft passed high overhead and southward.   

 

Not until eight o’clock that morning did we receive information from the US Defense Command, congratulating our staff for its excellent reporting.  The three planes were US Air force bombers on a mission planned to test our alertness and the efficiency of the Distant Early Warning System. Proudly, we had passed the test (and more important, had demonstrated our attentive reaction on the very early morning duty watch).  

 

Eventually our tour of duty in the Arctic was completed and we turned over our responsibilities to another team of engineers. 

 

New assignments were waiting in the Northern Electric factory and exciting new challenges for me were in the offering.

 

 

After being away for a year at a remote and isolated location, it was strange returning home to a wife and family left behind, and to continue with my engineering career.  

 

The tour had been adventurous, and for me both realistically and financially beneficial, which in itself helped my life return to normal - forever interesting it seemed - but I would never be the same. 

 

This long period in a remote environment away from civilization and my family was more unsettling than I could ever have predicted.

 

Living in an isolated location with a small group of associates having limited area separation for a long period, even though adventurous and rewarding, may result in unpredictable personal change which is difficult to explain.

 

To be continued in Chapter 4

 

Chapter 1         Chapter 2         Chapter 3         Chapter 4         John Tatlock's Alumni page