He laughed. “OK, we’ll sail anytime now. The galley will be serving at seventeen hundred hours.”
Over the next several days they got accustomed to the daily routine on board. The weather got steadily colder and colder.
ONE MORNING ANUPA WAS laid asleep in her rack.
“Crutch, come on. On the foredeck. We can see it.” Anupa yawned.
“OK, let me get my coat on. Where are you?”
“For’d the main gun.”
“You’ve gone all nautical Tosser.” Anupa made her way onto the deck. It was cold and the breeze blew with a harsh cutting chill. A typical morning in the Southern Ocean.
“There Crutch.” Tosser pointed off the starboard bow. On the horizon was a white line. It was unmistakably land and was intermittently visible against the grey swell as the ship pitched up and down. She couldn’t judge the distance, but it was obviously several miles away.
“So, that’s it,” grinned Tosser, “Antarctica. Wow.”
“It’s bloody cold,” said Anupa.
“What did you expect?”
“This, I suppose. I’m used to Riyadh and blazing sun. I’m going below. Get me some scran in the galley.”
“Crutch?” She turned to Tosser who stared bright eyed at the distant land, a few blond locks of hair protruded from her hood.
“When we go ashore, do you think we’ll see Penguins?”
“I suppose so.” Tosser grinned at this. She stopped a passing sailor.
“Can you take our photograph?”
“Ok,” He used her cell phone.
Anupa pulled her towards a hatchway. “Come on down below, you’ll freeze your tits off over there soon enough.”
LATER THAT DAY THE Captain called a meeting in the Wardroom. Sat around the table were Captain Jacques, Lieutenant Commander Leon, Anupa and Tosser.
“We’re nearly there, fifteen hundred miles southeast of Durban,” said the Captain. “We’re just sixty miles west of the insertion point, we need to plan your excursion Crutch. Who came up with these bloody names?”
“Captain, it’s MI6 culture,” said Crutch; Anupa.
“OK, well let us know where you wish to go ashore.” Crutch pulled up a chart of the area.
She pointed to a headland. “This is Cape Ann, it’s dominated by Mount Codrington, to the west is Edward VIII Bay. That’s Edward the eight to the uneducated. The whole area is known as Enderby Land and is technically claimed by Australia. In truth, it’s a snowy and Icey waste where few have ventured.”
“Bloody brassic then,” said Leon.
“Yes,” said Crutch, “it’s freezing city over there. But nestling under the cliffs on the western side of Edward VIII Bay is something we’d like to take a good look at.
Captain Jacques sat back and smirked.
“So, MI6 wants to have a good look at something tucked away in a remote Antarctic Bay.” He leaned forward.
“And in their infinite wisdom, the MOD picks us. Montrose is despatched to carry two young women, who should be down at the local pub; to take a look. What is it, and how the bloody hell did you find out about it?” Crutch stared at him.
“It’s above your clearance level.”
“And I’m to put my crew in jeopardy to put you ashore. I suppose we’ll have to rescue you if you get into trouble. What is it, and how did you find out about it?”
“Captain. How do I put this delicately?” said Crutch.
“The truth is, you don’t fucking need to know. Just put us ashore and get us out. That’s it, end of.” The Captain threw his hands up. Crotch stood, placed her knuckles on the desk and stared at the Captain.
“We’re both here at Her Majesty the Queen’s pleasure. Captain, you know what she said to me. I want to know what’s going on in my Australian Antarctic territory, so get your sweet Asian ass down there. Use one of my fucking warships if you need to.” Captain Jacques sighed.
“Right then. I suppose we’ll do it.”
“I knew you’d agree Captain,” said Crutch. “We’ll need to be inserted by your Lynx Helicopter around here.” She pointed to a position on the foothills of Mt Codrington.
“We’ll ski inland and make our way to the target. We’ll try to get back to the same extraction point, but that may not be possible.”
Leon passed over two handheld radios.
“We can keep in contact via these, I’ll get a communications PO to show you how they work.”
“How long will you be ashore?”
“What will we find there, Lieutenant Commander?” asked Crutch.
“I don’t know. How would I?”
“Then you’ve answered the question yourself. We’ll take a tent and bivvy bags. Some food. But it’s a guess, let’s say two, three days.”
THE NEXT DAY WAS UNUSUAL in Antarctica at this time of year, it started out bright and sunny.
Crutch and Tosser made their way to the hanger deck and climbed into the rear of the Lynx, a crewman handed up their backpacks and skis. The Helicopter’s Rolls Royce Gem 42-200 engines spooled up and the rotors spun in a rushing blur, flooding the hanger deck with a biting cold downdraught. The Officer of the deck waved his batons, two crew members pulled the restraints from the undercarriage. The revs increased, and the Lynx pulled up and into the air. It turned and headed off towards the white mountainous land several miles away. Anupa looked out at the peak of Mt Codrington, the summit was clear. Further down cloud covered the slopes. The landscape was a white snow covered uneven blanket with dark areas of rock in places. They banked and flew to the left of the peak. She looked across at Tosser. She gave Anupa a half smile, she didn’t seem comfortable with the relatively low flying. The headset she wore sparked into life.
“Montrose Air from Blue Gull we are starting our descent onto WP1”
“Copy Blue Gull.” The revs decreased, and the aircraft started to lose altitude. It soon entered cloud base. Outside of the windows, it was now a grey white fog. There was nothing to see or do, just trust the aircrew upfront.
“Montrose Air from Blue Gull, altitude four hundred meters. We’re into the smoky water.” After a few minutes the revs increased, and the aircraft took up a nose high position. Anupa felt it landing. Outside it was a swirling white storm. The Observer Officer got out, opened the side door and helped with the backpacks and skis. The two women climbed out. The Observer leaned towards Anupa.
“Enjoy your stay. Give us a call and we’ll be back. Rather you than me.”
Crutch and Tosser did as they’d been told to and dragged their packs and skis several yards away and then hunkered down in the blowing maelstrom of white powder. The revs increased, and the helicopter pulled away.
The world became quiet, the wind blew grey powder drift around. At times she could see the blue sky, below was snow, blown over the ground in sheets and tendrils.
They both kicked in and clipped on the skis. She took out the compass and lined up.
“This way.” The two kicked off and headed toward the inland edge of the bay. It was lean left, push, lean right push. Left and right the two of them moved on. The visibility was intermittent sometimes she could see the mountain and then the bay to her left. But for long minutes it was a blowing swirling whiteout. The landscape was falling away to the left, Anupa stayed to the right, she didn’t want to wander over a cliff edge. Easy to do in this semi whiteout. After more than an hour, the cloud cleared and there to the left just down the sloped where the ice floe covered waters of the bay. She turned left and descended, the wind decreased here and they soon stood on what would be the shoreline. It would be, without ice floes. She turned to Tosser who wore a tinted yellow snow mask and goggles.
“Nice view isn’t it?”