Story from Charles W Lobb's trip to Site II, 220 miles east of Thule air base in 1955

This title, used many times during slide shows, usually provokes the question, ", yeah? How high? How long" Would you believe 220 miles long and 2 miles high? Unbelievable? Just keep reading.

Let's first set the scene. It was the height of the cold war. Both the Soviets and the US were building fleets of long-range bombers. Interceptor bases sprang up across the US and Canada. Nike missile sites encircled cities and military posts. World tensions were never higher.

Thule Air Base in Greenland at 77 degrees north housed Strategic Air Command bombers poised for quick over-the-pole strikes against the Soviets. As a defensive measure, the Army was asked to investigate establishing bases on the Greenland Ice Cap. Could it be done? Could troops be housed, equipped, supplied for long periods of time hundreds of miles out on the ice?

Site II, an experimental cluster of fabric Quonset huts and a steelmat runway was constructed some 220 miles from Thule on the ice cap. A trail was established up the edge of the ice cap through 90 miles of snow-covered crevasses and thence to Site II. Along this trail supply trains pulled by D-8 caterpillar tractors ground along around the clock at a steady 3-4 mph hauling 10-ton sledges of fuel and supplies.

Problems were many. Crevasses as old as the last ice age lurked beneath bridges of snow. Shaped like the letter A, they could easily swallow an entire cat train should one wander off the trail and break through the snow bridge. Whiteouts were common, a sort of frozen fog that was like being inside a bottle of milk. You literally could not see your hand at the end of your arm. And finally was the perpetual darkness of winter.

Whiteouts, crevasses and blackness. Could something be done to improve safety for these cat trains? Could we devise a reliable allweather navigation system, especially through the most treacherous 90 miles of crevasses? Any sort of RF radiation, however, was not allowed lest a potential enemy follow the trail right to Thule.

During the summer of 55 a few ideas were tried. Battery-powered flashing lights on sawhorses were set along the trail, but batteries quickly froze. Radioactive pellets were dropped on the snow, but quickly began sinking. It was finally decided to try ordinary house wire laid on each side of the 75-ft-wide trail. With 60-Hz current pumped down the wires, a magnetic field would be established that could be useful for guidance.

Three weasels stopped at mile 60 to take impedance measurements on the wires. Note the steel barrel and flag that marks a safe crevasse crossing point.

This latter idea showed great promise, although the wires sank, became frozen in the ice and eventually pulled apart as the ice Moved. A short trail of 13 miles was construckted and proved useful in spite of these drawbacks

The following summer the wire trail was extended the entire 220-mile length, breaks were repaired that had occurred in the first 13-mile segment and D-8 cats were equipped with trail-following loops and driver display equipment. We also designed an audio communication system that would allow the base station to call a vehicle over the wires. After receiving a call, the vehicle would pull over to a call box (spaced every mile or so), plug in and talk back to the base station. This system worked reasonably well for the first 60-90 miles, but the capacitance between the wires tended to distort and attenuate audio at greater distances.

During this second summer, it occurred to me what a fantastic ham antenna this 220-mile wire would make. Lying on snow over 10,000 feet thick was virtually like being in 2 miles of free space. Overcome by temptation, a couple of radios were requisitioned from the army including a BC-348 receiver and a low power vacuum tube transmitter.

Surreptitiously, when no vehicles were on the trail, one of the wires was connected to the transmitter and a tentative CQ on 75 meters resulted in a swarm of Scandinavian stations, all well over S9 wondering who I was and what was going on. Since I hadn't bothered to obtain an OX license or operating permission, QSO's were kept short, but it was great fun and I'll always cherish the experience.

A: A hand-held high-gain audio amplifier was used to listen to the 60-Hz buzz from the electric field of the voltage on the wire. With a bit of practice, breaks could be located to within a few inches. The wire was then exposed by digging down to it and a new section spliced in. Working from the terminal end out, each break was thus located until all were repaired.

A: The sinking seemed to be about 10 feet per year. Useful life was judged to be about 3 years or 30 feet. At that depth the magnetic field would be too weak and digging down to repair breaks too difficult. New wires would have to be installed.

A: The second summer extended from mid-June to the end of August when severe storms prevented any further work. We lived in a wooden boxcar-like structure called a wannigan, ate C rations and melted snow for water, only enough for drinking and brushing teeth. No baths, haircuts or shaving for the entire period.

A: Surprisingly comfortable, at least through July. Temperature in the 40's with the sun up 24-hours, circling clockwise slightly above the horizon (north at midnight, south at noon, east at 6:00am, west at 6:00pm. You could tell compass points from a good watch, or tell time from a good compass). By early August, storms were raging every few days and by late August we were only getting out about once a week. It was time to head home.

A: After a couple of days, you were tired enough and it didn't matter. I recall WWII newsreels of exhausted GI's sleeping on rubble. I know the feeling - it can be done. However, as we returned home, we flew south into night and every one of us had his nose pressed to the aircraft windows, absolutely enraptured as we watched the sun go down and the stars come out. The feeling was indescribable. I never thought I'd miss night so much.