FACING LONELY DEATH.

Press, Volume LXXI, Issue 21578, 14 September 1935, Page 17

FACING LONELY DEATH.

Byrd's Adventure In Antarctic DIARY PUBLISHED (TOUTED PBB3S ASSOCTA.TIOH—COPTWO**.) (Received September 13, 7.5 p.m.) NEW YORK, September 12. Several times during his long vigil last winter at his advance post on the Antarctic Continent RearAdmiral R. E. Byrd believed that death was inevitable. Publication of his diary in the current issue of the "American Magazine" reveals that on June 30 he was overcome by carbon monoxide from his stove, and was forced to crawl on hands and knees to reach his food and fuel. . . .

A few days later he wrote in his diary: "I am afraid that it is the end. I have been in a comatose condition part of the time in the last 48 hours. I have left written instructions for the expedition and letters for my family in the green box." . _. .

Several days later he wrote: "This is a ghastly way to go out, alone,, in utter darkness, with nothing friendly at hand. I've been in some tough spots before, but here it is just waiting in darkness, living despairingly from hour to hour."

Something of what it means to isolate oneself more than 100 miles from any other human being for months at a time is disclosed in the sections of Admiral Byrd's Antarctic diary, said the "New York Times" recently, when the first instalment of the diary was published. The admiral, on his second expedition to the Antarctic, set as one of his objectives the gathering of meteorological data not obtainable on the shores of the Bay of Whales where his base was located. He had planned to establish an observation base 123 miles from the Bay of Whales, to be manned by three scientists. When the expedition arrived at Little America it was found impossible to assign three men to the work. The admiral, determined to carry out the project, announced that he would take the post himself. And so, for seven months, he lived alone in a tiny hut, linked with the base by radio.

During those months he kept a diary and on March 29, 1934, the second day of his isolation, he wrote: "Four possibilities hang over my existence like a sword of Damocles: (1) The danger of fire destroying the shack and stores: (2) the chance of being buried alive as a consequence of drift deepening over the roof; (3) the risk of being suffocated by fumes from the stove; (4) the final hazard of being rendered helpless by illness or accident. If any one of these things came to pass, it might be just too bad. I've carefully considered these things and am taking steps to reduce the danger.

"My greatest problem, I imagine, will be to keep peace with myself."

The admiral then set down the meteorological data he had set out to obtain. Ttie temperature, he wrote, "continues in the minus fifties."

In less than a week, the Admiral wrote, he found himself "caught up in an inexorable routine." "I had rather imagined that life out here would be casual and flexible," he continued, "but I find myself committed to responsibilities as pressing as any I ever found in civilisation. The difference is that here the small things art the important things and none can be ignored. You wouldn't believe how much time they take. "I have a xlaily round of meteor and auroral observations to make, commencing at 8 in the morning and not ending till midnight; eight instruments to read and keep adjusted, and records to keep. "I give several hours a day to this work, in between I try to squeeze in time for the innumerable small tasks claiming attention—digging snow and melting it for water, getting fuel for the stove, shovelling drift from the hatch { washing pots and dishes, straightening out the stores in the shack and the tunnels, thawing frozen food and clothing stiff with grime —I could fill a pa#e with such details. It's 2.30 in the morning before I put my light ouc and turn in." On May 20, after nearly two months of isolation, the temperature had dropped to 72 degrees below zero. As {Tie days wore on, Admiral Byrd began to feel ill. Although his radio messages to the base camp said his health was good, his diary shows that he was far from well. After his return to Little America, he said, he was convinced that he had been slowly imbibing poison from his stove and lamps. Admiral Byrd was still far from well when the expedition reached New Zealand on its way home, and since he has been ordered some months' complete rest. The doctors said this was necessary because of the effect on his system of the fumes he absorbed while in the hut.