“If Mrs. Toft can, it would be a great help. Captain Lyons will stay on watch; if anything is needed, she will know where it is.”
For five minutes the two doctors conferred on the condition of the little Eskimo girl. Dr. Lindegaard made a personal examination of her and then read the chart in detail. “There is no question whatever,” he said. “Your treatment was the only procedure to be followed. If she lives, it will be because of you.”
Markley shook his head, then he pointed to the Bennett. “Without that…” he began and then stopped.
“I wish to ask one question,” Dr. Lindegaard said. “We were discovered on the ice cap by a plane of your Air Force — by the flare light I read it. But, doctor, I cannot understand; I would swear that it was a B-17! I do not know much about airplanes, but that one is so famous.”
“So they flew it, did they? I hadn’t heard.”
Nurse Vibeke Toft, fresh in a starched uniform, came down the hall ready for duty. “Are you all right?” Markley asked.
The nurse answered in excellent English. “I am fine, doctor. It is agreed that I will watch for two hours, then Miss Morgensen will take over. That will give her and Helle time to eat and rest a little. Helle, Mrs. Nielsen, will take over four hours later, after a little sleep.”
As Debra Lyons began to brief her Danish colleague, Markley leaned against the wall, giving way for a moment to the fatigue that the strain he had been under had intensified. “Doctor,” he said, “when you feel up to it…”
Lindegaard put a hand on his shoulder. “Go, please, doctor, and get some rest. I will guard your patient. If an emergency comes, I will call you.”
Quite suddenly Markley felt that most of his remaining energy had drained out of his body. “I think that I will,” he said. “Thank you for coming. And thank God for the Bennett. Now that she’s on it, I feel a little better.”
Lindegaard nodded. “I think that you should. She is young and these Greenlander children are very sturdy and strong, even when little. She now has the best chance that it is possible to give her with what we know.”
Utterly weary, but hopeful, Dr. Herbert Markley walked up the corridor toward the place where he could lie down and rest.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
In the center of the huge floor of Hangar 8, The Passionate Penguin stood in the position of honor. She had been wiped down, and the slight amount of soil that she had picked up on her underside had been washed away. Her fuel tanks had been topped, her oil had been checked and replenished, and she awaited the signal for further action. Only one noticeable change had taken place — a rescue “find” symbol had been proudly painted on her nose. It was her first earned decoration.
Outside, Thule Approach Control cleared a C-141 from McGuire to the tower frequency. The big jet airlifter came down the glide path, flared, greased on, and began a dignified taxi toward the place where a waiting signalman stood positioned on the ramp. When it had been spotted, the pilot cut the engines and a small reception committee of Thule personnel came forward. Colonel Kleckner was in the lead. He did not need to look at the two-starred plate displayed in the window to know that a major general was on board. Two staff cars rolled out and took positions just off the port wingtip.
The side door opened, there were a few seconds of delay, and then General William H. Miller deplaned briskly. He returned Colonel Kleckner’s salute and then shook hands cordially. “Good to see you, Jim,” the general said.
“Welcome to Thule, sir. It’s good to have you back.”
The general paused and looked around him. “You know, you can call me crazy if you want to, but I like this place. Colonel Lancaster, who served a tour up here, told me that it was the most exotic spot on earth, and I’m inclined to agree with him.”
The general greeted the other officers who had come to meet him, and shook hands with the First Sergeant. Then, with his aide behind him, he walked to the forward staff car. As the aide got into the front seat next to the driver, Colonel Kleckner and the general sat together in back. “Not too cold today,” the general remarked.
“No, sir, by Thule standards we’re having a heat wave. It’s barely below zero.”
Presently the staff car pulled up before Building 708. “Your quarters are here, sir,” Colonel Kleckner said. “We have a small dinner laid on for you and your staff at 1900 hours at the club. That will give you an opportunity to get some rest.”
The general got out of the car. “Let me change out of flight gear,” he said, “then, if you don’t mind, I’d very much like to visit the hospital.”
“Certainly, sir, no problem at all.”
In his room the general became more informal. “Jim, how are things going up here?”
“Smoothly and well. J Site has no problems that I’m aware of and our own operations are in good shape. The staff up here right now is all I could ask for. Off the record, Bill, we’re in better shape now than we have been for some time.”
The general sat on the edge of a chair while he stripped off his flight suit. “Jim, while we have a few minutes together, I want to tell you that I had to throw my weight around a little and smooth down some feathers at Norton. But I want to add something to that: if I had been here, and in command at the time, I would have done precisely what you did, and I told them that flat out. There was a minor rhubarb, but I got them calmed down. I very clearly pointed out that all available aircraft had been ordered to fly and what the hell…” He dropped a heavy shoe onto the floor. “What have you done with that B-17 since then?”
“I ordered it back into the hangar, to remain there until the question of its airworthiness is finally cleared up. Between you and me, it’s in as good shape as anything in the inventory. You won’t believe it when you see it.”
“I intend to see it.” The general disposed of the other shoe and went to the washbasin. Conversation stopped while he refreshed himself there and used the bathroom. As he came out his aide tapped on the bedroom door and handed in a freshly pressed dress uniform. The general accepted it and began to put it on. He touched on two or three classified matters, knowing that the quarters were secure, and finally was ready to leave. He picked up the parka that had been provided for him and selected from the array of arctic-type gloves. “All right, let’s go,” he said.
At the hospital, the entire staff, minus one nurse, was on hand to provide a formal welcome. Once more the general shook hands all around; then he addressed himself to Dr. Markley. “Captain, is it permissible for me to see your patient?”
“Certainly, sir. I would also like to have you meet the Danish catastrophic team that responded to our urgent need. They are top people — I can say that without reservation.”
He led the way down the corridor and paused before showing the general into the sickroom. “You understand that she is still immobilized,” he said.
“Yes, I do. I consider it remarkable that she is still alive. According to the medical officer who briefed me, at my request, her chances were almost nil.”
“Almost, sir, but not absolutely. Come in, please.”
As the general stood and looked down at the small body lying on the hospital bed, an almost visible shadow seemed to pass across his face.
“Sir,” Colonel Kleckner said, “I’d like to have you meet the others. Major Dashner is the nurse who went with the flight up to Kanak under Phase Two conditions to bring the patient back. Miss Morgensen is a member of the Danish team. Dr. Lindegaard is at Kanak now to see Dr. Pedersen, but he will be back in time for the dinner party.”