Isolation Camp Log

Day 402. Somewhere above the 45th parallel.

Winter has set in for good now. The brief spell of warmth a few weeks ago had the men out in shirtsleeves kicking an inflated penguin hide around on the ice. But today it is minus 14 and only the mechanics are out occasionally, running the diesel so it doesn’t freeze up. Peterson burned his hand badly when he attempted to thaw the oil sump using a Primus stove. He didn’t even feel the pain until one of his fingers was charred black. Doc Fuchs wanted to apply a poultice of oatmeal and a moldy piece of bread, but our food rations are precious so I told him to simply cut off the damaged finger. It went into the stew, though I didn’t tell the men. Nothing is wasted here.