"Ice is Where You Find It".

By Captain Charles W. Thomas, U.S.C.G.

August 29, l951

by The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., Publishers,

Indianapolis ---- New York.

Dedication

To the World's three outstanding Ice-Admirals, I respectfully dedicate this book:

·         Richard E. Byrd, Rear Admiral, U.S.Navy. (Ret.)

·         Edward H. Smith, Rear Admiral, U.S.C.G. (Ret.)

·         Richard H. Cruzen, Rear Admiral, U.S. Navy.

Foreword by Richard E. Byrd, Rear Admiral, (Ret.)

·         Part One---Chapters 1-10    The Sabin Island Expedition 1943.  

·         Part Two --Chapters 11-17   The Jan Mayen Expedition. ,

·         Part Three-Chapters 18-28   The Northeast Greenland Operation 1944. 

·         Part Four   Chapters 29-32   The Southwest Greenland Operation l944.

Chapter 32----"One Man's Burden".

Dr. A.Laurent-Christensen.

·         Part Five --- Chapters 33-39 The Antarctic Expedition 1946-1947.

·         Rear Admiral Richard E.Byrd, U.S. Navy (Ret.)

·         Part Six --- Chapters Li-0-46 Bering Sea Patrol. 1948

Index.     Illustrations,   Maps.

This book is in the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

under Number

D 763 .5 .T 4

****************

Chapter 32, Part Four: ----

Had Mr. Brun's high office not demanded his exercising the utmost of tact, he might have added:

"We have good doctors, too, and one of -these doctors is outstanding among.- the men of his profession."

This outstanding doctor quietly led a crusade against both tuberculosis, and its root, ---- the Greenlanders' standard of living. 9 appreciate fully the handicap under which this Colony doctor has worked we must roll back the years.

It is 1919. The place is Copenhagen, Denmark. An old wooden ship slid slowly away from her dock.  Her big brass whistle boomed out a prolonged blast to warn the Copenhagen waterfront that she, the King's Steamer, "Hans Egede", was backing out of her slip.  For five seconds, which seemed like minutes, the brazen note baffled the exchange of farewells between the passengers who thronged the rail, and the multitude of friends on the dock.  The blast faded and the shouting and waving resumed.

Here and there a handkerchief fluttered in a dab at its owner's eyes This was not a pleasure cruise. Everyone on board was in the Service the Danish Crown, otherwise he would never have been permitted to land the shores of the vessel's destination --- Greenland.

A Dane not under government orders can not set foot on this Island whose rulers seek to preserve its natives against exploitation.  All Contracts were for one year, but it would be many more before some of the passengers returned to Denmark.

A tall young doctor stood apart from the people at the rail. The expression on his handsome face reflected neither joy, nor sadness over his departure from his homeland. No friends mingled with the crowd on the quay to bid him good-bye.

To Dr. Axel Laurent-Christensen this voyage was an economic necessity.  It was not easy, in 1919, for a newly licensed physician to break into practice. Perhaps after a year in Greenland, he would be able to return to Copenhagen, and at least be able to eat while waiting for patients. While he was at Julianehaab, the pay would not be lucrative, but he would have a roof over his head, and living expenses would be light.  There was a hospital in the settlement, and, as Colony doctor, he would be in charge.

In charge The thought conjured up a little smile of satisfaction for Dr. Christensen had just finished his internship. His mind pictured spotless tile floors, smart nurses, a well-equipped operating room, laboratory, X-Ray, dispensary, pharmacy, and all the other components of a modern hospital and clinic.

Three weeks later, the "Hans Egede" anchored in Julianehaab Fiord.  The doctor whom Laurent was to relieve was on hand to meet him, eager to get about the business of relief.  Together they jumped into an umiak that a couple of Greenlanders paddled across the ice-packed water to the bleak little village. They rushed along a narrow street, lined with native huts. and turned off to climb a steep hill on which was situated a ramshackle building that the old doctor referred to as the, hospital!

            Dr. Christensen's heart sank when he entered, and stared at its hodge podge of rooms and the pitiful crowd of humanity that filled them. Cots of all descriptions were every where, packed into the rooms and overflowing into the halls; every cot was occupied by a patient; out-patients were obliged to wait outside; there was no space inside where they could sit.  There was no electricity, no running water, not even an inside toilet, or bath. A single room served as laboratory, dispensary, and surgery.

            The hospital, the new doctor learned, was but one corner of his ministration.  His purview extended to the whole of Julianehaab1 Colony, which spread over the entire southern tip of Greenland.  A good deal of his time must be spent in traveling from settlement to settlement.  Only about one fourth of his patients were concentrated in Julianehaab village, the Colony capital. This meant his professional ratio would be one doctor to 4,000 inhabitants.

            An examination of hospital records showed the preponderance of cases were tuberculosis --- first, pulmonary; second, of the bone and joint. There was a high incidence of other respiratory diseases, malnutrition, accident cases, and finally venereal diseases. The building reeked with the mingled odors of cooking, and of medicines. One tired Danish nurse was in attendance, assisted by a few keefak native orderlies.

It is little wonder the new doctor was seized by an impulse to return to Denmark, and face the consequences of a Breach-of-Contract suit.

But Dr. Christensen was made of sterner stuff. He knew some one must be on hand to care for the health of the natives to the best of his ability, and such a responsibility was plainly his; at least for the ensuing year.  But he would lose no time getting away when his Contract expired.

Dr. Laurent stayed for more than a quarter-century. The young doctor settled down to his new duties, used the outmoded instruments of his profession, traveled over his district, and began an intensive study of the Esquimo tongue. He was impressed by the universally high incidence of tuberculosis, and in isolated settlements, by the terrific death toll of childbirth.

He determined to inaugurate a medical crusade, but first he must have the facts. His year had sped by before he was ready to begin. He must stay on another year to see it through.

A new hospital must be built, and provided with running water. steam heat, electricity, X-Ray, modern therapeutically instruments, and other appliances. A complete set of new surgical instruments had to be obtained. and the library stocked with the latest volumes on all branches of medicine.

Greenlandic girls were to be brought in from outlying settlements, and given a two-year nurses' training course. On graduation, they would qualify to return to their villages, render emergency treatments, and improve sanitation. and bring their female patients proper obstetrical care. War must be declared on the Colony's worst enemy -- tuberculosis.

This was a big order, far more than the Greenland Administration's medical budget could stand. But over the years improvement trickled into Julianehaab, and a spacious annex to the little hospital was completed. For a short time the original structure was used exclusively for clinical, surgical, and laboratory requirements, but eventually it was invaded by an overflow of he patients from the new sixty-bed addition. Within a few years the first class of native nurses was graduated and sent out into the Colony to carry on the war against infection and premature death.

In the meantime Dr. Christensen learned the native language, studied new methods tirelessly, and made an extensive research into tuberculosis. Later, he published a paper on the disease and won commendation of eminent authorities the world over. The Colony doctor was confronted with pathogenic conditions, embracing every branch of medicine, except the tropical diseases2.

A Greenlander will submit uncomplainingly to any medical treatment as prescribed for him provided he knows the practitioner to be a doctor. This was not always true, for as late as 1925, one isolated settlement clung to its faith in the village "Angatok", or medicine man,

            Dr. Christensen tried to make inroads into the inhabitants' traditional superstition, but one day, the angatok approached the young doctor furtively, and in strict privacy. The medicine man was ill; the time-honored charms had failed to produce favorable results.

            "Could the white doctor help him?"

            The diagnosis was simple. A few tablets brought prompt relief to the patient. But the word leaked out that the angatok had been successfully treated by the doctor. The medicine man lost face with the people and his job as well.

            Anyone less energetic than Dr. Christensen, would have been invalided home after a few years of the kind of grueling work demanded of the Julianehaab Colony doctor. Even on circuit life was punishing. Often it was necessary to camp on the trail, sometimes during a roaring blizzard. Dr. Christensen soon learned that the Esquimos are a most hospitable people. Living with them, sharing their simple fare, and common sleeping shelf, he found them to be a happy, carefree lot.

            The natives came to adore the new Colony doctor. It was not, however, Dr. Laurent's kindly understanding of the Esquimos, only, that earned him their love and devotion. His surgical skill played an important part in gaining their confidence. Whenever possible, he brought his patients to the hospital for surgery, but frequently, an emergency operation had to be performed under the dim light of a kerosene lantern. In such cases he was lucky when there was a native nurse in the village to assist him.

            One night, following a busy day at the Julianehaab hospital, the doctor was aroused from his sleep by an excited native. An axe-murder had just been committed in one of the Greenlandic huts. He dispatched the native to inform the Colony-Manager. After all, except for the death-certificate, the case was one for the Civil authorities rather than the doctor. However, Laurent-Christensen dressed leisurely, picked up his bag, and walked down the hill to the scene of the crime.

            A young Greenlander hunter was slumped on the floor, his head lying in a gory pool. Blotches of crimson were splattered over the wall, and from some of these, little rivulets of blood oozed slowly downward. The lethal weapon was quite in evidence, its blade tinged with bits of brain.

            The doctor perfunctorily knelt down and adjusted his stethoscope. Suddenly he tensed - The man was alive! He was no longer a corpse on the floor. He was a patient.

            "Get him to the hospital at once!" the doctor ordered. Dr. Christensen sprinted to the hospital, summoned the Danish nurse, flung on his gown, scrubbed, and was ready for the patient when he was carried in.

            "Still alive?"      "Yes!"

            Surgery would be a hopeless gesture, without a chance for success. But the doctor knew he had nothing to lose; he must proceed on the assumption that there was some hope for the victim.

            A large piece of the hunter's skull had been pressed into the brain. This had to be lifted out, the jagged edges dressed, and silver inlay inserted to replace the missing parts of bone. Much to everyone's surprise the young native made a complete recovery. His mind seemed to function better than before the accident.

            While convalescing, he organized a Greenlandic hunters' Guild, and established co-operative prices of the sale of skins. Later, he studied music, and within ten years became the Colony's foremost musician.

While brain surgery was not infrequent, one case amused Laurent. The patient had a brain-tumor, which must be removed without general anesthesia. Notwithstanding an Esquimo's impassiveness, the doctor realized it would be extremely difficult for a man to keep quiet while undergoing such a nerve-racking operation, but there was no alternative, so the doctor talked incessantly in an effort to keep the man's mind occupied. At length he was through the bone, and about to begin the most delicate phase of the task. The slightest motion might prove fatal.

            "What do you want me to give you after you leave the hospital?" Dr. Christensen asked.

            "I would like a pair of pants," replied the patient, taking a profound interest in the turn of the conversation.

            "You may have a pair," the doctor offered. "What else do you wish?

            "A new anorak," the native answered.

            By the time the tumor was out, the Greenlander had been promised a complete new outfit of clothing from shoes to cap. Two days later, he was ambulatory.

            "Dr. Christensen, amazed at his speedy recovery, asked him how he felt.

            "Fine," said the patient, sadly, "but I wish the operation had taken longer."

            "Why," the doctor asked "Was it not long enough?"

            "No," asserted the native emphatically, "You finished the operation before I had time to ask for a nice, fat, young wife."

            The assignment of an assistant doctor to Julianehaab Colony in recent years has eased Laurent's burden to some extent and made possible added time for study and research. While t.b. occupies first place on his agenda, for such pursuits, Dr. Christensen seeks the answer to two major enigmas. These involve an occasional case of poliomyelitis on the west coast, and the complete absence of cancer among the east-coast natives. He hopes his notes will help future research to stamp out both of these dread evils.

            To augment funds made available to the hospital, and to provide industrial therapy to patients, the doctor purchases their hospital-made products. These include Esquimo dolls, kayak models, beaded-goods, kamicks, bags, slippers and clothing. A ready market at the U.S. Post-Exchange in Narsarssuak, some sixty miles away is always eager for such products. The profits earned by the doctor, go to the hospital.

Shortly after World-War II, the profits paid for a complete outfit of the crimson blankets so adored by the natives.

            "Red blankets improve the patients' morale," Dr. Christensen explained. "After all morale is an important factor in the treatment of an ailment."

            "Do your patients ever grow impatient, or despondent?" I asked of Dr. Christensen.

            "No," the doctor answered. "They are fatalists. Most of our t.b. patients will recover. Some, whom we failed to catch in time die here."

            "Would to God, I could be as complacent as they! Sometimes I feel so insignificant, so helpless when I realize I am only scratching the surface. They need and deserve better care - much better."

            We moved on to the next ward -- the woman's pulmonary t.b. All were propped up in bed, making little trinkets for the Exchange. I walked over to one woman, and admired her handiwork.  She grinned in pleasure.

            "You will have to admire all of them now," Dr. Christensen laughed; otherwise the rest will lose caste."

            My Chief Staff-Officer, Commander C.F.Edge, U.S.C.G. was probably closer to Dr. Christensen than any of the Americans in Greenland at the time.

            In mid-1946, Laurent confided to him that he was a tired man; sick of fighting for adequate medical facilities, despondent over his inability to hospitalize any except the advanced cases of -tuberculosis".

            "I am going home this fall," the doctor told Edge, "never to return to Greenland again. My mind is made up.  I'm through."

            "Laurent," the Commander replied, "time has so fettered you to Greenland that you can not escape for long. The people you love are here. Your work is here. Denmark will be a foreign country to you, and you will be irresistibly drawn back to Greenland. I'll give you two years.  Then you will be back-- right here in Julianehaab "

            "No", the doctor said with emphasis; "I'll never come back"

            In April 1948, Dr. Laurent-Christensen returned to Julianehaab.