Free Ice Brothers by Sloan Wilson

figure what we should do if we run into a Kraut like that,” Hansen said. “With the popguns they’re giving us, we wouldn’t have a chance at shooting it out. I figure I’d radio for planes and try to keep the hell away from him. The trouble is those big North Sea trawlers can do twelve knots to our eight.”
    â€œWhat’s your answer to that one?”
    â€œIf we can keep our eye on the big picture, I suppose, our job will be done once we call the planes down on him. If they sink us before they get theirs, it won’t matter much to anyone but us. I would sure try to lead them one merry chase among the icebergs, though.”
    Hansen laughed, apparently with genuine merriment. “Are you from the Coast Guard Academy?” he asked.
    â€œNo, I’m just a reserve officer. To tell you the truth, I haven’t had a damn day of training and I’m so green I scare myself.”
    â€œAt least you know you’re green and that’s a good way to start. My exec is an Academy j.g. He’s never seen more ice than you’d find in a highball glass. I’m supposed to make him an ice pilot, but for some reason he thinks he already knows ten times what I do.”
    â€œDo you mind if I ask how you got to be an ice pilot?”
    â€œI’m a Dane and I was brought up in Greenland—my father was in charge of the cryolite mines there. We owned fishing boats and I brought a small trawler with me when I came over here. I’ve been more or less reared in the ice pack.”
    â€œThey ought to get you to give a course at the Academy.”
    â€œThere’s not much anyone can teach about ice—you just have to work in it. You’ll catch on fast enough.”
    Paul was suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of knowledge he was supposed to catch on to so fast. Ice was only the beginning of his ignorance. He actually knew almost exactly nothing except how to pass written examinations. He was essentially a fraud and should be arrested for impersonating an officer. Suddenly he felt dizzy and finished his Aquavit in a gulp, hoping it would steady him.
    â€œWant another?”
    â€œI’d like one, but I have an awful lot to do.”
    Hurrying back to the Arluk , he stood near a huge mechanical winch which he knew nothing about and tried to think how he should begin the vast learning process which was required of him. How does one begin to conquer almost total ignorance? With determination he began examining the winch simply because he was leaning against it. The anchor winch on the Valkyrie had been about the size of his head and had been on the bow. This machine was a mass of cogwheels the size of a small automobile and it was located in the waist of the ship, far away from the anchors. The chain aboard the old yawl had been about the size of his thumb; this chain was as big around as his arm. It led over a racheted drum which was connected to several big cogwheels. There were three long, heavy levers and a panel with buttons and dials like the instrument board of a motorcycle. No matter how closely he studied it, Paul had no more idea how to run it than if it were a locomotive.
    â€œThat’s a trawl winch,” Farmer said with his nasal twang, walking up behind him. “Practically nobody in the Coast Gad or navy ever seen one like it. This here winch will practically lift up a sunken battleship. Want me to show you how she works?”
    â€œPlease.”
    An hour later Paul knew how to operate a trawl winch. It was the only part of the ship he did understand, but it was a start.
    After teaching him the mechanism of the winch, Farmer said, “Do you want to make up some kind of list about who spends what nights aboard here and who goes ashore? I got the crew divided into three watches, but this is the first time we’ve had three officers.”
    â€œI guess we can just take turns.”
    â€œThat’s okay with me. I don’t mean to put