27th November 1915

It was the end for her. Nothing could stop the ship from its lifeless expedition. Nobody knew she was gone; we were helpless. The strain of the penetrating ice was too much for her. I commanded all hands to the floe. Heaving the significant supplies onto the floe. Faces were horrified, frightened. However, we must go on, we must finish the expedition.

                                                                   28th November 1915

The sensational site it was before the tragic, unstoppable ice encased on it. The frozen protrusion hooking her into the wasteland of pack ice. I hoped we wouldn’t join her? Was it better than World War 1 back at home with our friends fighting in the war?

The cold biting through the layers of the chunky clothes digging into my skin as quick as a bird. The harsh terrain made it impossible to do anything fast. A party was sent out to find a better place to camp, if there was one. 

A few hours later, the ice absorbed all her power and she was defeated. Splintered pieces everywhere and we had to move to an easier place to camp. 

                                                                   29th November 1915

I picked my five best men to go on the boat with me to go to Georgia with me 750 miles away. I was quite relieved to go on the boat because my 27 were getting annoyed and were looking for someone to blame, sadly that was me. However, if I went on the boat I had 27 lives on my shoulder and if I didn’t make it they would die.

“Will we save people's lives?” I questioned myself. That was the question that daunted me for the rest of the trip. As I looked at the distant place that we had left, it was a horribly destroying place.