Death in the Arctic–Part 3

I haven’t written for a couple of weeks.  I just turned 70 on the thirteenth of February (I was born on a Friday the Thirteenth!) and, aside from being quite busy, had a bit of writer’s block perhaps due to disbelief! (Also, the nightmares came back.)  This past week has been quite nice here in Ottawa, though we had quite a bit of snow on Friday.  On Tuesday, I was able to take some solar photos – here is a photo of sunspots – I processed the RAW images in Picasa.  The sun was quite active this week with large flares and numerous sun spots so I enjoyed two afternoons of observing.

Back on the Ice
 
Well, things proceeded rapidly in the investigation of the L-188 crash.  The underwater recovery expert arrived and the weather moderated somewhat so we were not so desperately cold.  However, it was cold enough that the ice thickened up and became safer, allowing more of us on the ice at once.  One thing that I would like to clarify and that is none of the victims were touched by polar bears.  There was always a “hunter” guarding the site when we were not present.  In fact this resulted in a somewhat humorous event though it could have resulted in serious injury or worse:  On the afternoon of the third day, the hunter thought that he heard something behind the Quonset and, thinking that it was a bear, he blew the back wall out with his shotgun.  Since this was the only shelter, the area behind the hut was the only place where a person could answer the call of nature.  At the evening meeting, I persuaded the oil company to construct an outhouse.  In order to save weight, the engineers built it out of Styrofoam and 1/4 inch plywood and named it the “Skjenna Building!”  This is the only time that I have had the honour (although perhaps dubious) of having a building named after me!

Another arrival from the sun drenched shores of California was Herman “Fish” Salmon, Lockheed’s famous and respected test pilot – a marvellous and hugely interesting character (check out his outstanding career on Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herman_Salmon .)  He was representing the Lockheed corporation on this accident – it is the usual practice to have a company representative as a member of the team.  In fact, I did represent Air Canada on the DC-9 accident in Cincinnati back in 1983 and was subsequently seconded to the NTSB.  Well, Fish came directly from sunny climes and did not have any winter garments.  We all pitched in and provided him with enough clothing so that he could venture out on the ice with us.  One day I was standing with Fish enjoying a chat.  He had his back to the crack in the ice that I mentioned before.  Suddenly a seal broached in the water directly behind Fish.  I didn’t know that a human could jump so high – I swear that I saw the soles of his boots when he reached apogee!  Needless to say, anyone who observed this event dissolved in laughter.  Sadly, Fish was killed in 1980 in the crash of a restored Super Constellation that he was delivering to Alaska .  In 1994 he was inducted into the Aviation Walk of Fame.

Among the equipment that arrived was a hyperbaric chamber and  a bottle of scotch.  Although alcohol was forbidden on the base, I felt that some of the investigators, especially the ident team, could benefit from a wee dram so I had requested a container of hydroxylated ethane, preferably the kind manufactured in Scotland, and the Regional Aviation Medical Officer in Edmonton thankfully broke the code.  Other equipment included underwater cameras, air pressurization pumps, physiological monitoring equipment and underwater communication equipment.

The oil company engineers went to work and built a diving shack on the ice and cut a hole for the divers.  As mentioned, the crew had done a pretty complete survey of the sea bottom so we could minimize the diver’s time in the water.  Since we couldn’t bring all of the wreckage to the surface we relied on video and still pictures in order to examine engine settings and other pertinent details.  This involved briefing the divers and then assisting them with the electronic communicators, the wires running along the oxygen hoses to microphones inside the helmets.  Of course, the highest priority was recovery of the victims and this was accomplished within a few days – or 24 hour periods if you like, as daytime light was non-existent.

We did have one more close encounter with a polar bear.  I was helping the Mounties recover a victim frozen in the ice.  We were using chisels to chip away at the ice when I looked behind me and spotted three dark spots, the nose and eyes of a bear, approaching us.  I told the sergeant and he glanced at the bear and continued chipping away.  I started to become extremely anxious, but the Sarge would just look up and then chip away some more.  At last, he picked up a shotgun and fired it into the air and, without even looking at the bear, continued to chip at the ice.  Much to my relief, the bear ran away!

The Sarge was a legend in the North.  He was a giant of a man with  a very quiet and calm disposition.  On one occasion, or so the legend goes, he was investigating the murder of an Eskimo by a fellow aboriginal.  He did not let on that he spoke the language and, instead, hired an interpreter to translate.  Unfortunately for the suspect he began to discuss the murder with the interpreter in native language whereupon the Sarge responded in the Eskimo language and slapped the handcuffs onto the hapless murderer!


The victims were flown to Edmonton.  I contacted Dr. Neville Crowson, a dear friend and mentor, who was Canada’s leading expert in aviation crash pathology and he arrived in Edmonton to supervise the pathology.  I was able to join him a few days later and assisted in the gathering of evidence. 

One of the most pertinent findings was that the captain’s liver was grossly enlarged, about twice the normal size.  Microscopic examination disclosed fatty infiltration with some inflammation.  It turned out that he had a hobby farm and had been using carbon tetrachloride to clean his implements and tools.  Carbon tet is very toxic to the liver and will interfere with liver function, for example the detoxification of amino acids.  Since the crew had consumed a steak about an hour before the accident, it is most likely that high levels of amino acids had resulted in incapacitation.  In fact the two surviving crew members indicated that the captain had descended to 300 feet about six miles from the beacon (the descent limit was 400 feet).  As they approached the ice floes, he stated that they were above cloud and had to get below.  He then pushed the nose of the aircraft down so violently that the crew experienced negative “G”.  Both the first officer and flight engineer shouted out altitudes to the captain but he continued diving towards the ice.  Finally, the first officer grabbed the control yoke and attempted to pull out, but it was too late.  The aircraft hit the ice in about a seven degree nose down attitude.  Much of the aircraft broke up and the cockpit slid about 900 feet and then sank.  The two crewmen jumped out but the captain just stayed in his seat appearing to stare straight ahead and went down with the cockpit.  These events indicated that he was impaired, not by alcohol, but by toxic levels of amino acids.

The only part of the aircraft brought up from the bottom was the cockpit as my very dramatic photo shows.  This was done in order to examine instruments and switch settings although this is notoriously misleading.  Unfortunately for the investigation, very little information was recovered from the flight data recorder and the cockpit voice recorder.  A public inquiry was called and I, along with the other investigators worked on that for around two years and I spent considerable time on the witness stand, experience that would help me greatly in the future.

Man will occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of the time he will pick himself up and continue on.

Winston Churchill