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Saturday January 15, 2011

Pilot hand-picked for risky evacuation of British scientists from Antarctic

Peter St. Louis braved fierce weather and lack of spare parts, earning a rare postwar decoration for Operation Corkscrew

Special to The Globe and Mail

Pilot Peter St. Louis helped make aviation history in 1950 when he flew a Canadian-built Norseman aircraft across some of the most dangerous and inhospitable terrain in the world to evacuate British scientists working in the Antarctic.

The scientists, who were based on Stonington Island, just off Graham Land, part of Britain's Antarctic territory, had been searching for minerals and studying the weather for the Falkland Islands Dependencies Survey.

The polar ship John Biscoe tried to get to them in 1949 but had been forced back by impassible pack ice. Five of the men had been there since 1947, while the other six had arrived the next year.

Although the scientists had plenty of supplies, the British authorities were anxious to get them out, and St. Louis, a flight lieutenant in the Royal Canadian Air Force who had experience flying as a bush pilot in Canada's North, was hand-picked for the job by the governor of the Falkland Islands, Sir Miles Clifford.

Contending with the Antarctic's unpredictable weather and fierce storms, an acute lack of spare parts, no radio navigation aids and inaccurate charts, St. Louis accomplished his mission well enough to earn a rare postwar decoration.

He died in Ottawa on Dec. 9, 2010, from complications following emergency cardiac surgery. He was 87.

For his service on Operation Corkscrew, he was made a member of the Order of the British Empire (MBE) in King George VI's birthday honours list. It was one of only two MBEs awarded to RCAF members from 1948-68.

The citation stated: "Flying Officer St. Louis successfully evacuated five members of survey party from Stonington Island in two lifts. Flights carried out in conditions of considerable hazard and difficulty are a testament of his skill and determination reflecting great credit on this officer and the force to which he belongs."

He also received a letter of appreciation from prime minister Louis St. Laurent, who wrote him on June 10, 1950: "The courageous and self-sacrificing spirit which prompted such a deed of bravery has won for you the deep admiration of your fellow Canadians. I should like to extend to you my warmest congratulations."

An assignment of a lifetime

Corkscrew was a plum assignment for St. Louis, who had been flying for almost 10 years, both as an instructor during the Second World War and during peacetime as a bush pilot. It was high profile and covered by British reporter Douglas Liversidge for Reuters News Service. He also published a book on it in 1951 entitled White Horizon.

The mission seemed simple: Fly in and evacuate the scientists, but anything could go wrong in the Antarctic and often did. The weather could turn vicious in an instant while the ice was unpredictable at the best of times, St. Louis wrote in a family memoir.

"It comes and goes on the whim of the wind, tides and current, so that at times when movement seems impossible a lead may appear quite suddenly or the ice might solidify and grip the ship even more viciously."

A few other things made St. Louis uneasy, wrote retired colonel Morris Gates in his 2006 two-part story on Corkscrew. "First, the provision of spares for the Norseman was inadequate for such an operation so far from any support facility. There was no way to provide support if the aircraft became unserviceable beyond the Auster's range from base." The Auster was Corkscrews' second aircraft.

Even a punctured float would be beyond repair, wrote Gates. "Spare parts were not available. There was not even a spare propeller."

After assembling his Norseman Mark V aircraft on the beach of Deception Island, a thousand miles south of Port Stanley, the capital of the Falkland Islands, at the beginning of December, 1949, St. Louis and his crewmen waited patiently for the weather to improve. They ate penguin eggs and seal liver - neither was popular - and coped with the boredom.

After several trial flights, he took off to get the scientists on Jan. 30, 1950 - "a beautiful warm, sunny day" - from his base on the Argentine Islands halfway up Graham Land.

Flying south, he eventually spotted a clear lead in the ice covering Marguerite Bay. "I went down to take a closer look and sure enough the lead was ice free, no bergy bits or anything. We landed on the water and taxied back until we came against the more of less solid pack ice."

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