[ominous music] In the late 1800s, the top of the world was one of the last unexplored places left on earth.

And one of the most dangerous.

Hundreds of arctic explorers headed into the jumbled ice and one never heard from again.

In 1881, Civil War hero, Adolphus W. Greely Led a scientific expedition to this fearsome place.

He and his 24 men were set down on an isolated spit of land just 450 miles from the North Pole and left to fend for themselves.

They endured months of pitch black darkness and temperatures so cold, the mercury in their thermometers froze.

28.4-- And when no relief ship returned, Greely led his men south in small open boats.

Their diaries tell the story of men struggling to retain their humanity during their perilous journey through a frozen hell.

Most of us are out of our minds.

I fear for the future.

Adolphus Greely.

It became the worst arctic disaster in American history.

Most of his men never returned alive.

121 years later, Greely's great, great grandson returns to this haunted place to retrace his ancestor's horrific journey, and determine for himself whether Adolphus Greely should be remembered as a hero or a villain.

Little did he realize that one of his companions would barely survive the expedition.

[ominous music] My name is James Shedd, Adolphus Greely's great, great grandson.

Ever since I was a young boy, I've heard stories of his terrifying three years at the top of the world.

And I've always wondered why he's not as well known as Shackleton, Franklin, and the other polar explorers.

We found ourselves on a barren game forsaken post.

There, we lived for eight months, during which the temperature never rose above the freezing, and conditions of extreme misery and distress.

We had neither clothing, shelter, nor food.

Do you think he knew anything what he was getting into?

I think so.

This is my great uncle John and his wife, Jane.

He's Greely's grandson.

Jane showed me their few precious Greely artifacts she keeps hidden away in this little box.

This is the claw of the polar bear.

You remember the story-- Greely and his men were on the verge of starvation when they managed to kill this polar bear.

It kept a few of them alive just long enough to be rescued.

Without this animal, Greely would never have made it home and I would never have been born.

Quite a long-- 400 pounds.

Yeah, that's quite a bit of polar bear to eat.

Yeah.

I like thinking about that-- really being hitched onto the polar bear.

Yeah.

The only other person I know whoever met my great, great grandfather was our neighbor, Thad Thorne.

As a child, he was often invited to the Greely home for Sunday dinner.

James?

Oh.

You're David's son.

Yes.

Oh, very nice to meet you.

You too.

You met Dr. Hale's father-in-law, right, Adolphus?

Oh yeah.

Yeah?

But I was a very young man at the time.

How old were you?

I can't remember exactly.

Probably I was maybe eight.

And we'd been told stories about his experiences up in the arctic.

And I sat there and I looked up at the end of the table, and the general was up there and looking at me.

And I kept remembering these stories about how they found these people up there that had died and part of them had been eaten.

And so I kept thinking, oh my god.

He'd be carving the chicken, and I'd say, uh-oh, I wonder if my turn's next.

And he scared me.

And we children had a nickname for it.

And it wasn't uncomplimentary-- I hope you don't think so.

But I always called him Eat Em Alive Greely.

Eat Em Alive Greely?

Yeah, that was his name as far as I was concerned.

Yeah.

Never to his face.

OK. Never to his face.

My family regards Greely as a great American hero.

But these rumors of cannibalism would shadow him for the rest of his life.

My dad was also fascinated by the Greely story sometimes to commemorate the anniversary of my ancestors rescue my father fast for days while reading Greely's diary.

A year or so ago, he was asked if he'd like to join an expedition to retrace Greely's historic journey, but he wasn't able to go.

So he asked me if I'd like to take his place.

Of course I said yes.

How could I not?

[chainsaw] I'm very grateful for that opportunity for him in A sense, that as much as I might like to go, him being able to live longer than I, that memory will continue for a longer time.

I'm not too sure how to work out.

My only real outdoor experience is camping with my family in New Hampshire.

And I'm not really in the best of shape for this sort of thing.

I have no idea what it'll be like.

But I've got to Greely blood in me, and that will see me through-- I hope.

It's June 16, and today, my adventure begins.

Our team is gathered here in Yellowknife, capital of the Canadian Northwest territories.

We're just on the cusp of the Arctic Circle.

There will be nine of us altogether.

Three will staff the base camp while I and five others will follow Greely's dangerous routes south in two man kayaks.

Julia Szucs will be the only woman.

From Yellowknife, we fly 1,000 miles north to the tiny Inuit settlement of Resolute.

And then we had another 600 miles Northeast to the giant frozen island of Ellesmere, one of the closest points of land to the North Pole.

For hour upon hour, we see nothing but mountains, snow, and ice.

[adventurous music] So beautiful and pristine, but deadly, too.

It's hard to imagine the emotions Greely and his men must have felt coming up here.

Adolphus Greely joined the Union Army when he was just 17.

He fought in several major civil war battles, was wounded twice, and quickly rose to the rank of private major.

When the war ended, he became fascinated with the arctic.

No one knew much about it.

Some people believed it was a big hole at the top and that the Earth was hollow.

Others thought it was warm at the pole, and that an undiscovered race of people lived there in a tropical paradise.

But many scientists understood that conditions in the arctic determine the weather farther south.

And so in 1881, the US army sent Greely and 24 men north to collect scientific data for two years.

They were part of an international collaboration to establish arctic research stations all around the North Pole.

Greely Station was closer to the pole than any other.

His order stated he was to establish his station on the northern tip of Ellesmere Island, the 10th largest island in the world.

They were to measure wind, temperature, humidity, tides, and gather a wide variety of other data.

My great, great grandmother, Henrietta Greely, thought the expedition was far too dangerous.

I would rather be your wife as you are than your widow as the most revered man.

Oh, I love you so much.

How can you leave me?

There is no such danger as this painted.

Modern appliances, the use of steam ships, the experience of other expeditions all forbid it.

His greatest challenge was picking the right men.

They needed to be tough, dependable, and psychologically strong.

Adolphus Greely chose as his second in command, Lieutenant Frederick Kislingbury, who we had worked with in the past.

Kislingbury had always been fun loving and popular with the men, very different from Greely, but they had gotten along well.

What Greely didn't know was Kislingbury very had recently lost his young wife.

I think he was absolutely devastated at the death of his second wife.

And he had these four little boys, and he was at Fort Custer in the Dakota Territory.

And I think when he received the orders from Greely or, you know, the invitation to join the expedition to the North Pole, that he thought this would be a way for him to alleviate his grief, move on with his life, and make a name for himself so his boys could go to West Point.

Instead, the cold, isolation, and endless nights would make his depression worse.

As first sergeant, Greely chose David Brainard.

Sergeant Brainard was a man's man-- tough, loyal, and dependable.

The party would grow increasingly dependent on his leadership.

The rest of the men were a ragtag assortment of mostly civil war veterans pulled together at the last minute.

Greely hardly knew any of them.

One was a severe alcoholic.

Another, a convicted embezzling.

The 25 men headed north in mid-July of 1881.

They carried with them 200 scientific instruments, enough food and supplies to last three years, the materials to build a small fort, and even a bathtub.

Thursday, July 7, 1881.

Raised anchor at 12:10 PM and left St. John's Newfoundland on our voyage to the arctic regions in the sealing steamship, Proteus.

After leaving the harbor, took a course east of North steaming at a rate of eight knots per hour.

Sergeant David Brainard.

The party is steamed up and across the Labrador Sea toward Greenland.

After weeks of rough weather, they finally reached the tiny Inuit settlement of the Upernavik, well they picked up two native sled drivers, three dozen sled dogs, and the expedition surgeon named Octave Pavy.

He was an arrogant French-trained doctor from New Orleans who had been living with the natives up here for more than a year.

He knew more about the arctic than anyone else on the expedition, including Greely, and he made sure everyone knew it.

Then they said their final goodbyes to the last remnants of civilization many would ever see again and headed north.

The Proteus soon reached frozen territory where few white men had been before.

For 11 months a year, a thick wall of sea ice blocks the narrow passageway between Ellesmere Island and Greenland.

This season, the passage was clear of ice and they sailed easily into the treacherous channel.

They had no idea that in other years, the channel remained blocked.

After 58 days at sea, they arrived at their destination, Lady Franklin Bay.

Friday, August 12.

The Proteus at 3:00 PM dropped anchor in the bay in front of the site selected for the station, which is to be our home for the next two years.

Our force was divided into two working parties and put to work in four hour shifts.

As daylight is now continuous, no time is lost.

After weeks of idleness, our soft muscles are feeling the effects of the first day's labor.

Sergeant David Brainard.

Within a few weeks of arriving, Greely and his men had finished the building.

The main lodge was not large-- just 21 feet by 65 feet.

But it was warm and comfortable.

Greely christened it Fort Conger.

Greely quickly began to realize he had made some mistakes choosing his men, especially Lieutenant Kislingbury.

Kislingbury desperately missed his four young boys, whom he had left with relatives.

He spent most of his time aboard ship writing long letters home.

Then he began arriving late for breakfast and going back to bed until dinner.

I think he thought maybe I should just get out of this before things really blow up.

He asked to be relieved of his command.

And Greely said, OK.

He would return home with the ship, but by a stroke of uncommonly bad luck, as Lieutenant Kislingbury was walking across the ice toward the ship, the ship suddenly set sail for home.

Kislingbury dropped his bags and ran, but he couldn't get the captain's attention.

He was trapped at Fort Conger until a relief ship returned the next summer.

Greely had relieved Kislingbury of his command.

Kislingbury was too proud to ask for it back.

And Greely was too stubborn to reinstate him.

Kislingbury Mary was stuck in the arctic with nothing to do.

It would be a recipe for disaster.

Our journey to Ellesmere Island was considerably faster and more comfortable.

We're now circling above Fort Conger as our young bush pilot nervously searches for a smooth place to land.

There's the rectangular foundation of his building.

It That was torn down two decades later by the polar explorer, Robert Peary, who built those three small huts you see there.

They were easier to heat.

Oh man, that was incredible, eh?

You see the way the tail of the plane just rocked?

Just phew!

Steve Smith is the leader of our expedition.

He's traveled these shores each summer for the past 20 years.

Few people know this place as well as he.

I think it's great.

It's nice and warm.

It's beautiful.

And everyone is in a good mood.

Jeff Clark organized this trip.

He came here two decades ago and became obsessed with the Greely story.

He's the one who invited me along.

I'm a little bit nervous, but it was a great landing.

I wonder how my great, great grandfather and his men must have felt when they arrived in this remote spot.

We have all the latest gear and the warmest clothing.

All Greely had was wool and Buffalo skins Our plane would back to meet us in seven weeks.

By contrast, the ship wouldn't return for Greely for at least 11 months.

In the meantime, they faced the ferocity of the oncoming arctic winter and its endless nights.

They had no way to communicate with the outside world.

Radio wouldn't be invented for another 15 years.

It's now about midnight.

And we're going to explore Fort Conger.

Well, we're going to see what's left.

In the summer here, the sun never sets.

It just goes across the sky in a straight line.

All the sunlight gives me an unfamiliar energy.

I'm sure that in the winter, the endless darkness has just the opposite effect.

Greely's things are scattered all around.

This was his stove.

You can still see where it was made.

Over here are his bed frames still waiting as if another party will return to sleep in them once more.

It's just pretty amazing.

I had no idea what to expect.

Looking back, you know, everything I've read, it just gives it so much for me being here.

Hidden among the empty tin cans and glass shards, Jeff found a human job, perhaps from some more recent Inuit hunter.

As they settled in, Greely began writing a stream of letters to my great, great grandmother, even though they would have to wait until a ship returned the next summer.

I miss you so much, my darling, and want you so much.

And yet with all my yearning for you, I cannot bring myself to regret coming here.

I shall at least have made my mark in the world.

Love, Adolphus.

He had met Henrietta in California.

She was from a wealthy family and was bright, well-educated, and determined.

Just before he left, she had given birth to their second daughter.

She had come around to supporting him wholeheartedly and even made him a flag, though she missed him terribly.

I love you and I want your good night kiss.

I want you with me and not a shadowy form in some dim distant region, as I am yours body and heart and soul.

96, 97-- The men settled into their routine, taking 100 sometimes thousands of scientific measurements a day.

They collected animal and plant specimens.

They recorded the temperature and the wind and the tides.

They even brought along a 100 pound brass pendulum used to measure fluctuations in the Earth's gravity.

Greely believed these first continuous arctic measurements would help scientists understand the top of the world, perhaps even help it to determine whether there was an island at the North Pole.

On October 14 of 1881, the sun dropped below the horizon for the last time.

It would not reappear for almost five months.

December 9.

The effect on the men of continued darkness is very apparent.

Many of them are depressed, while others growl for slight of any reason.

Only a few keep up their good spirits.

Sergeant David Brainard.

Greely knew the importance of maintaining morale and avoiding the deep depression the darkness often brought on.

He brought with him a large collection of games and musical instruments and an extensive library of magazines on just about every book written on the arctic.

The men even published a little newspaper called The Arctic Moon.

For Christmas, they staged an elaborate celebration that included a five course banquet with a fancy menu, shooting contests, and even an opera.

The long nights were often punctuated with spectacular displays of the northern lights.

Greely described them as beautiful and brilliant arches formed of convoluted bands of light similar to twisted ribbons.

Finally, in late February, all his morale boosting paid off and they emerged into the light.

February 28, 1882.

At last, the sun shone its face.

It was rather dim and struggled to pierce the haze.

Though faint, the light was a glorious sight after an absence of 137 days.

Sergeant David Brainard.

While theirs was officially a scientific mission, Greely knew that if his expedition could break the world record for traveling farthest north, it would cement his name in history.

So he launched two dog teams-- one headed northwest along the top of Ellesmere, and the other northeast across Greenland.

The first team was turned back by open water.

The second team soldiered on.

The conditions were horrendous.

The sleds kept turning over and breaking through the ice.

Their sleeping bags were constantly frozen solid and they could only crawl partially inside.

The dogs would often sneak into their tent while they slept and steal their food.

Finally, on May 13 of 1882, after sledging for more than a month, the three men surpassed the British record by four miles.

They looked out across the snow and broken ice toward the North Pole.

They built a cairn to mark the spot.

Sergeant Brainard scribbled a bit of graffiti on a rock.

And then they headed home.

I am, of course, delighted beyond measure.

The men all come in with excellent health.

Three lives paid for the English discoveries.

We beat them and lose none.

Adolphus Greely.

Their scientific research continued.

But all they could think of was the relief ship with its supply of letters from home and fresh food.

A ship that would take the still miserable Kislingbury away.

What they didn't know was that 250 miles to the south, the entrance was blocked by ice this year and the supply shift could not get through.

In this case, military orders stated that the ship should leave its food and supplies at a spot called Cape Sabine in case they were needed later.

But there was some confusion in the orders and the ship returned home without leaving any emergency food or supplies.

Greely and his men must have wondered what could have happened, because at Fort Conger, the water was mostly free of ice.

Weeks went by, and in early August, the sun began to dip low on the horizon along with their morale.

August 25.

Artificial light will soon be needed.

I have quite given up hope of a ship as indeed, have most of the men.

Adolphus Greely.

The army had anticipated this might happen and had provided enough food and supplies to last another two years.

Tell the story.

Yeah.

Before I left for the arctic, I asked my great aunt if she would lend me something of his to bring along.

Look at the size of them.

I've been waiting for just the right moment to show them to Jeff.

Well, Jeff, here I have something that you might like to see.

These here are Adolphus' glasses-- Oh really?

--that the wife of his grandson lent to me for this trip.

I called her up and asked if there was something I could bring along.

Is that your aunt Jane?

Yeah, yeah.

She told me I could take these along.

She wants me to be very careful with them.

She's so fragile, I can imagine-- You can see right here there-- They've been mended.

Mended there.

Just the regular parts are so tiny.

He had a pretty strong prescription, too.

Why don't you try them on?

Let's see if there's any family resemblance.

Definitely a family resemblance.

That's great.

This makes me all the more determined to endure whatever this journey has in store.

They now faced a second arctic winter.

And this time, Greely's little entertainments were far less effective.

Morale was worst in the officers' quarters.

Dr. Pavy questioned Greely's every decision and resisted his military discipline.

There are no conversations.

We look upon our plates as the dogs in their platter.

What a situation in the arctic regions.

And the cause of it all?

Greely!

Dr.

Octave Pavy.

And Kislingbury consorted with the enlisted men, much to Greely's disdain.

They diligently continued their scientific work and exploration.

And finally, when the second summer arrived, Greely positioned lookouts on the cliffs long before a ship was scheduled to return.

He worried what would happen if the ship didn't make it this year.

His military orders stated that the fallback plan was to head south on the steam launch to Cape Sabine.

But his men were mostly soldiers with no nautical experience, except for the steam launch engineer, who had a severe drinking problem.

Regardless, these were Greely's orders, and as a well-trained officer, he was determined to follow them.

July 26.

Snow fell at intervals all day.

The temperature has fallen below the freezing point and ice has formed over the pools in the harbor.

And thus, once more, hope for a vessel or even a fair retreat is blasted.

Sergeant David Brainard.

Finally, in August of 1883, Greely decided to set the alternative plan into action.

No one questioned the orders.

They packed all their specimens plus hundreds of pounds of scientific instruments and records, including their heavy brass pendulum.

They only had room left for two months of food and three pounds of personal items per man.

Dishes, knives, forks, spoons, et cetera were left on the table unwashed.

I was the last to leave the station and nailed the door securely.

Greely would head south in the steam launch, towing most of his men and supplies behind in three small rowboats.

We plan to follow Greely's journey over ice and water in two man kayaks, which would be much easier to drag than his heavy wooden boats.

It's now June 19, 119 years later, and we're ready to go.

There are six kayakers plus our support team with Jeff Clark and two others, who will head south by plane in advance.

We'll see how he's doing by the end of the trip.

I know I'm in good hands.

They're all professional guides with years of experience up here.

Plus, we're doing this at the beginning of the summer, when the weather is warmest.

Greely started his journey at the end of the summer, as the days were rapidly growing shorter and colder.

It takes us all day to prepare, and so we don't leave until 5:00 PM.

But without the cycles of night and day, time doesn't really matter up here.

We can basically travel whenever we want for as long as the favorable conditions and our endurance lasts.

Who knows what we're going to find along there.

One thing for sure, we'll probably experience the same kinds of conditions and the same kinds of obstacles as Greely did on his trip.

Just as with Greely's expedition, personal relationships will be critical.

Chemistry on a trip like this is essential.

All you have to do is go to the mountaineering literature and spend a bit of time poring over articles about mountaineering expeditions and to realize that an awful lot of really hard horrendous times have been had just because of kind of the interpersonal dynamics.

Steve is right.

But just how right we'll find out in the days to come.

Packed ice is jammed together.

I was hoping for fast ice smooth across, but I'm quite surprised by the amount of jumbled ice in there.

It's really broken up and we spent a lot of work getting over it.

Bob Saunders has been coming to Ellesmere Island for years.

He has at least as much experience as our leader Steve.

The two have been friends for close to three decades.

Let's go!

On this first day, we're not planning to go very far.

We'll just drag our kayaks across the harbor ice and camp on a low spit of land called [inaudible] Island.

The next morning, I glimpse the dark side of our group's chemistry satellite images.

It's not what I expect.

One person can very easily sway the whole group to thinking in a certain way.

And I'm not trying to hit on you here, Bob, but I am trying to say-- careful.

Without telling Steve, Bob brought along a third tend to give us more room.

Steve wants to leave the tent behind because he says three tents will be harder to defend against polar bears.

You're doing the same thing about bears, so you be careful, too.

How am I?

Well, I mean, we don't know if there's going to be bears there-- how many bears.

We don't know if it's open waters.

So you're hitting on us in a certain way for the tent.

So you gotta watch yourself too there, Steve.

The entire team votes with Bob to keep the tent.

I've got a feeling there might be more arguments to come.

Polar bears are a big concern.

They're the largest carnivore on land and they have no fear of humans.

They're so common out here, Steve once had one come into his tent.

He carries a gun just in case.

Today, we have the cross Lady Franklin Bay.

At the midpoint, we'll be 3 and 1/2 miles from shore.

These long crossings are the most dangerous part of the trip.

Said the wind pick up and break the ice apart, Steve tells us, we could be dumped into a churning mass of water and ice.

It's 11:00 PM.

I've been in the harness for five hours.

I'm exhausted and we still have another three miles to go.

Two hours later, we arrive on the opposite shore.

It's windy, cloudy, and cold.

I'm miserable and I'm beginning to wonder whether I really have the Greely blood after all.

Greely was crossing the same area in the fall of 1883 all the while praying he would meet up with the rescue ship.

I cannot but feel that we are in a critical position, not knowing what to depend on.

If there is no party there, our situation is extremely dangerous.

Adolphus Greely.

With each day, the air grew colder and the ice thicker.

But they had one thing we don't have-- the steam launch.

And they make good time with it at first.

My favorite story of the journey is about how they came to a huge iceberg with a narrow crack through the middle.

With no way to go around, Greely ordered the launch to head straight through the crack.

The narrow cleft presented to our view afforded perhaps the most wonderful passage ever traversed by any voyagers.

Scarcely a dozen feet wide, it was over 100 yards long, and its perpendicular walls of opaque ice on each side reached a full 50 feet skyward above our passing boats.

Lucky for them, the crack remained open, and they squeezed through.

But in general, plan B was fraught with danger.

Leaving this late in the season meant they were in constant peril of fierce storms or being crushed by the moving ice.

As the man grew increasingly fearful, they turned their anxiety toward their leader, egged on by Lieutenant Kislingbury and Dr. Pavy.

Greely sensed he was losing his men's trust.

Some said it was a major mistake to have left Fort Conger this late in the season, although no one had objected at the time.

Even the dependable Sergeant Brainard was losing faith in his leader.

All that ignorance, stupidity, and an egotistical mind without judgment can do in the injury of our cause is being done.

Why were the United States government persist in sending a fool in command of arctic expeditions?

Sergeant David Brainard.

Dr. Pavy came up with a devious plan.

As the expedition surgeon, he would officially pronounce Greely insane and no longer fit for duty.

Then Kislingbury very would take command and they would all head back to Fort Conger.

But to work, the scheme needed Sergeant Brainard's cooperation.

Brainard refused.

Despite his private reservations, he stayed loyal to my great, great grandfather, and the mutiny collapsed.

After that, Greely adjusted his leadership style and began asking the advice of his men.

All right!

Nice!

Now that I've been out here for more than a week, I can see that it would have been extremely difficult for Greely and his men to turn back.

The wind and the ice and the currents would all be going against them.

We were in constant fear of falling through the ice.

Almost everyone has gone in at least once, including me.

And at times like these, it's easy to start criticizing your leader.

Bob and Steve, they've been friends for such a long time, and they've done so much together.

And now they're thrust into this situation.

So I think that's one of the challenges that we face as a group-- is that there's history there.

And I think that's also what was probably doubly difficult for Greely and Kislingbury-- probably made things a little bit more raw between them is that they had had such a history together and they'd worked together before.

And so there was an expectation that things would work out just fine.

So far, we've been dragging our kayaks across the ice.

But as the days grow warmer, we know that eventually, we'll hit open water.

So here we are at the proverbial edge of the ice, and now we have a feeling it's going to last for a while.

So we're just gearing up to get into the boats and paddle, which is actually quite a feat considering we haven't actually been in the boats with all of our gear.

We're just doing a little bit of repack.

The open water means we'll move much faster.

But it's also far more dangerous, as Greely found.

We just pulled ashore on this sharp fast ice here because of this.

We've got an ebbing tide, a really strong ebbing tide, because of the spring tides right now.

And we've got this ice that's getting piled up on the point.

The power of this ice, as you can see in the way it's breaking up, as soon as it impacts on anything that's stationary, it starts rafting over top of itself.

Look at this.

Incredibly powerful.

This place is deceptive.

While it looks peaceful, it can quickly turned deadly.

We're all a bit nervous about this trip.

It's been 16 days since we left Fort Conger.

Today is the 4th of July and we all feel great.

When we woke up, the sky was clear and the water free of ice.

We're all ready to put in a lot of miles.

Shortly after we begin paddling, we hear the sound of animals breathing and we look over to see several large narwhals swimming by.

These are arctic whales.

I've never seen them before.

They're amazing.

The males have a long spiral tusk and were once sold as unicorn horns.

The narwhals and the ice around us and the clouds-- everything combines to make it very mystical, very magical.

Little did we realize how quickly things would go terribly wrong.

Our trouble began in the afternoon when the tide pushed huge sheets of ice toward the frozen shoreline, squeezing us into a tiny sliver of open water.

As the ice closed in, Steve ordered us out of the kayaks.

The first two boats got out safely.

But the third kayak with Bob Saunders and our cameraman, Scott Simper, was trapped as the ice and shoreline scissored together.

Bob got out in time.

Scott didn't.

I looked around and a huge hunk of ice was pressing up against him.

His arm lifted-- then pressed it.

He seemed frightening.

We hopped out the boat, out of my boat, and pressed my back against the wall, and tried to push the block away.

But the force of the ice just kept coming and coming.

At least I'm alive.

I was just sitting there thinking this was going to pop.

My hand was just going to pop.

And everything went black.

And all I could see was black.

Took a while for my vision to come back.

But I was just thinking-- I thought that was it.

Scott needs medical attention fast.

He's been coughing up blood and fading in and out of consciousness.

But we're drifting on an ice floe somewhere out in the Kennedy channel.

I've picked up Scott's video camera and started shooting.

The clouds have been dropping lower and lower.

Steve is talking to the rescue people.

They tell him it's too dangerous for a helicopter to fly in through the dense fog.

We were expecting that we could be out there for days.

We had no idea.

We were in a really, really dangerous tight spot.

Really scary.

Our modern adventure has turned into a hellish nightmare.

Six hours later, helicopter pilot, Peter Jefford and Canadian military medic, Dwight Fudge, fly blind through the thick fog and land in our tiny ice floe.

Must have let out just a tremendous sigh of relief that he had somebody there now-- that he was about to be saved in a way.

Because again, when you're in that situation, and you've gone through your body being torn apart, flying blind, you honestly don't know if you're going to live or not all.

How are you doing?

I'm good.

Oh, you're good?

Are you comfortable?

We still don't know if he'll survive.

He may have life threatening injuries.

I think we've all underestimated the dangers of this trip.

I certainly have.

Is it really worth the life of our good friend?

I think we're all ready to pack our bags and head home.

In this same area in the fall of 1883, Adolphus Greely and his men also found themselves drifting on a flat piece of ice.

Many of them were sick.

Their steam launch had run out of coal.

And Greely hoped the current would carry their ice island south to Cape Sabine.

Instead, they spent a month drifting in circles.

Severe storms were tearing their ice raft apart.

September 26, 1883.

Our crippled floe has again broken, scarcely leave enough space on which to stand with our boats and stores.

We cannot stay here for long.

This piece of ice will not survive much rough handling.

But where can we step off?

Sergeant David Brainard.

On September 6 of 1883, a gale began to blow them south toward Cape Sabine.

At first, it must have seemed like a great stroke of luck until they realized to their horror that they are being blown past the cape and out into the rough open seas of the much larger Baffin Bay, where they would all most likely drown.

A wild and awful night was passed in the driving storm with the dark water foaming about us.

And we momentarily were expecting to be swallowed by the waves.

After two days, the wind finally slowed and changed direction.

And their ice floe gently slid up against the shore just 15 miles south of Cape Sabine.

they scrambled onto land, and a few of the exhausted men raised a feeble cheer.

After 51 days and 500 miles of travel, I landed near Cape Sabine, not only my party in health and with undiminished numbers, but its scientific and private records, its instruments, and its baggage, with arms and ammunitions, sufficient in a land fairly stocked with game, to ensure our lives and safety.

Lieutenant Adolphus Greely.

They searched everywhere for the food and supplies the army had promised, but found nothing.

They had survived the journey south, but for what?

Cape Sabine was nothing but a windswept island of rock and ice as barren as the moon and with no signs of life.

They faced another long winter alone with only 40 days of food and no prospect of rescue for at least eight months.

I am fully aware of the very dangerous situation we are now in and foresee a winter of starvation, suffering, and probably death for some.

It's now July 5, the day after Scott's accident, and we've been trying to decide whether to continue our journey.

Then we all get a chance to talk with Scott in his hospital bed 2,000 miles to the south.

Oh man.

You guys hear that?

No.

So apparently, my eardrums look like my eyeballs.

Oh, god.

Oh man.

So it's just all bloodshot.

Holy jeez.

Scott tells us he has seven broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a punctured lung, but that he'll survive.

Our spirits are much improved and we decide to continue on.

We're behind schedule.

We've got 20 days, 150 miles, and some of the toughest terrain still ahead.

We're all pretty nervous about heading out into that jumble of water and ice, but Steve is insistent that we have to get back out there.

The conditions have grown worse.

Strong winds from the south drive the loose ice north and piled into huge jumbled packs.

It's impossible to paddle through then we're forced to drag our kayaks once again.

Today, we only make about six miles.

The weather's cold, overcast, and windy.

We're all a bit freaked out.

It doesn't help having one less person to pull the kayaks.

And it's just not the same without Scott here.

There are no other people around for hundreds of miles.

And yet it feels claustrophobic.

The steep cliffs and narrow ice foot make it impossible for us to get out of sight from one another.

Then our luck changes.

A huge long crack opens up.

The clouds clear, the wind subsides, and the temperature rises to 50 degrees.

Today we found this lead.

It was just awesome.

And it took us all the way across Allman Bay.

So that was just great.

Instead of having to walk, we're just cruising along like a little highway.

We make up for lost time and it looks like we just might make it to Cape Sabine.

Lightly spicing the soup.

We reach the north side of the Bosch Peninsula just after midnight.

We set up camp and drink hot chocolate and tequila while we make dinner.

Then we sit around and tell stories.

So we came up to one of these little holes, and it was wasn't too big.

You know, maybe a foot in diameter, something like that.

And I had my foot in the air ready to step over.

And all of a sudden, I see if there's a walrus head just appears right there in the hole.

Doesn't come out of the water, but just swam up, looked up, and I think saw me, and was just as surprised as I was.

It made him look pretty big.

[laughter] It's amazing what a little warmth and sunlight will do for your spirits.

For Greely and his men, the days were rapidly growing shorter.

Greely found a protected site alongside a small freshwater lake and named it Camp Clay.

He ordered his men to dig stones from the frozen earth with their bare hands, and build a low rectangular wall.

They laid oars on top of the wall.

And on top of those, they placed a whale boat.

And then covered the boat with tarps.

And the 25 men crawled into the cold dark space.

22 degrees.

22 degrees.

We are so huddled and crowded together that the confinement is almost intolerable.

Adolphus Greely.

Still, Greely insisted they continue their scientific record keeping.

They had a little stove, but not much fuel, so they burned anything they could find.

And the hut was often filled with choking smoke and fumes.

Most of the time, they sat crushed together, two or three to a sleeping bag, in the dark.

The temperature outside dropped the 50 below.

Inside, it hovered around freezing.

A few men went out almost every day to hunt.

Once in a while, they came back with a small bird or a half starved fox.

Not much for 25 men.

Reluctantly, my great, great grandfather reduced the men's rations to just 15 ounces of food a day-- one fifth the normal arctic ration.

A bounteous repast was served this morning, with which everyone was well pleased.

It consisted of seal skin and fox intestines together with moldy dog biscuit.

Nothing approaching food is ever wasted with us.

And it is a notorious fact that the cooks are not over careful in cleansing the fox intestines.

Sergeant David Brainard.

Their diaries are filled with the constant talk of great meals they remembered and what they would eat if they ever made it home.

They wondered if anyone would ever come.

Then on October 29, some of the men stumbled onto a cache of food.

Unfortunately, it contained just 240 rations-- only enough to last 10 days.

Along with the food, they found a hastily scrawled note that for the first time explained why no one had come for them.

July 24, 1883.

My dear Lieutenant Greely, I regret to report-- The note described a series of blunders that had occurred during the relief missions.

It detailed how the first ship had been stopped by ice and turned back without leaving any food or supplies-- a clear violation of orders.

They went on to say that during the second summer, the army sent a rescue mission led by a trusted lieutenant, Ernest Garlington.

Again, the passage was blocked by ice.

This time, against the advice of the ship's captain, Lieutenant Garlington ordered the ship to head into the jumbled ice.

It was a disastrous decision.

When the tide turned, the ice came together, and the ship was quickly crushed.

As Garlington's frantically threw food and supplies onto the ice, the ship slipped below the surface just 20 miles from where Greely and his men were now huddled.

Lieutenant Garlington managed to ferry a small supply of food over to Cape Sabine, scribble this note, and then flee south in the ship's lifeboats to save himself and his men.

I vow that everything within the power of man will be done to relieve your party.

I'm your most obedient servant, First Lieutenant Garlington, US Army.

Lieutenant Garlington did nothing to fulfill his promise.

Greely reduced the rations still further.

Whether we can live on such a driblet of food remains to be seen.

We are now constantly hungry, and the constant thought and talk run on food we hope to eat on reaching civilization.

Lieutenant James Lockwood.

As their food supply dwindled, my great, great grandfather's men began catching and eating a tiny shrimp-like creature.

We thought we'd try our luck.

A couple of them there.

It's hard to see how a few tiny shrimp which are mostly shell, anyway, could possibly keep 25 starving men alive, even though they sometimes cost as much as 25 pounds a day.

A half mile away, Julia and Robson are collecting edible plants.

The most common one is a black lichen called rock tripe.

It was actually thought to be toxic.

But they took their chances with it, because they thought it might be something that would have some nutritive value.

So they are picking this really large flaky stuff and imagine trying to live off of that.

Yeah.

Well, it looks pretty good.

Sort of like something burnt.

Burnt toast.

It is a bit like burnt something, anyway.

And then they mixed this in with kelp into the stew, and made kind of a gelatinous kind of a stew with it.

We should go back and see if there were any shrimp that we can throw this in with.

That would be fantastic.

Good eating.

On January 19 of 1884, the first man died.

It was Sergeant William Cross, the steam launch engineer.

His death was probably speeded up by alcoholism.

Several times, he had been caught drinking the lamp oil.

They buried him on a nearby hill they named Cemetery Ridge.

About noon, the solemn procession moved slowly across the lake and up the gentle inclined to the grave.

One cannot conceive of anything more unearthly, more weird and solemn, than this ghostly procession of emaciated men moving slowly and silently away from their wretched eyes prison in the uncertain light of the arctic night.

Sergeant David Brainard.

Anticipating the death of the entire party, Greely instructed his men to take their scientific records and put them in a cairn on a nearby island where they would be easily found.

They stuck the 100 pound pendulum in its case out the top so the cache could be easily seen.

Sergeant George Rice, the expedition photographer, worried about what was ahead.

Ellis tells me of being intimidated by the others and talks of cannibalism.

The conversations and hints show a state of warped imagination.

I hope that if the worst comes, I may and retain my mental powers, even after my physical have failed.

From their diaries, it's clear that by now most of the men blamed Greely for their desperate plight.

It must have been a terribly lonely time for him.

Certain of the party cannot be trusted if we come to extremes.

I have my eye on a gun and will not hesitate to use it if the occasion requires.

July 23.

We're now within sight of that haunted place, Cape Sabine.

But we still have one more long and risky journey left across Buchanan Bay.

This is our longest crossing of the entire trip.

At its midpoint, we will be nine miles from land in our tiny kayaks.

The weather is sunny and calm.

We can only hope it will stay this way.

A sudden storm could mean disaster for us all.

But to our surprise, it is something entirely different that threatens us today.

It just turned into walrus country really quickly.

And it wasn't one walrus, it wasn't two walrus.

It was every time that we popped between ice floes, we'd get in the water, and another one would pop up.

We're far out in the Bay and surrounded by walrus.

These huge animals that are unpredictable and sometimes dangerous.

If provoked, they can easily capsize a kayak or even put a tusk through it.

[walrus noises] All of a sudden, you could see the shadow form under the water.

And he came under, and he was right on the side of me.

I'm like, I'm toast, man.

This guy is gonna get me.

He's just going to put his tusks right through me.

And I had heard a story of this in the past that had happened, where the walrus tusk has actually gone on either side of the shoulder of someone.

And I thought, oh god.

So I'm kind of leaning the other way.

And Steve comes through with the gun just to scare it off, to make a noise in the water.

And just very, very close, probably a few feet from the walrus' head, just shot into the water.

And he kind of turned and went away.

And then he showed up again, and it still hadn't scared him away.

And I was, like, wow, this is really wild.

This is not scaring him away.

And finally, you know, we fired another shot into the air where he heard it through the air.

And that was enough for him to realize, OK, it's time to go.

[adventurous music] Today is July 24.

We've made it in just in time.

Out in the bay, the wind is now gusting past 30 miles per hour.

As we round the point and set our eyes and Greely's final campsite for the first time, it's hard to believe that we're here.

It's been 36 days since we left Fort Conger 250 miles to the north.

I've dreamed of this place ever since my father told me stories about it as a kid.

Made it.

We made it.

Dudes!

Hey, Bobby!

Hey, mates!

[upbeat music] I'm surprised to find I have a completely different reaction to this place than I had at Fort Conger.

Instead, I feel an amazing sense of accomplishment coupled with an awe of these surroundings.

Evidence of the misery that once took place here is everywhere.

The inside of the hut that was once a scene of filth and death is now one of the few places where grass grows.

Steve has found some bronze nails in the fireplace from the whale boat roof they eventually burned.

I don't need it, but there's a ship builder's-- It was in this exact spot in the early spring of 1884 that Greely and his men despaired of ever being rescued.

Remarkably, due to Greely's strict rationing and the shrimp and seaweed they collected, all but one man had made it through the winter.

But how much longer could they last?

While those on whom we have depended for rescue are surrounded by comforts and luxuries, this shivering band of wretched creatures must fight starvation and the frost of an arctic winter.

For what?

We have food until March 10.

There's nothing to look forward to after that.

In fact, the world had not forgotten them.

Just the opposite.

The mystery of what happened to the Greely expedition had by now become an international sensation.

Newspapers from around the world published articles speculating on what had happened.

Some said that they had enough food to last three years and were probably all still at Fort Conger safe and warm.

Others believed they were all dead.

Debates raged in Congress.

Many senators argued it would be foolish to try and rescue a bunch of dead men.

Worst of all was the Army, which had left them in this mess.

General William Sherman of Civil War fame was now commander of the army.

He refused to spend the money to send a rescue party.

Greely and his men were saved by my great, great grandmother, Henrietta Greely.

She wrote impassioned letters to newspapers, rallied her powerful friends, and lobbied Congress to turn the rescue mission over to the Navy.

And the real hero in this whole story is Henrietta Greely.

Without Henrietta Greely, they all would have perished.

She stormed Congress, thank god for her.

She's the one that this story should be about, because she was brave.

And she said, you go up, and you save my husband and his men.

How dare you send them on a mission and not send a ship up?

After months of critical delay, she finally persuaded Secretary of War, Robert Todd Lincoln, to send Winfield Scott Schley, one of the Navy's best commanders.

He mounted a massive rescue that eventually cost 10 times more than the original expedition.

She also convinced Congress to offer a $25,000 reward to anyone who could beat the navy to Greely.

This craftily turned the rescue into a race between the navy and the arctic whaling fleet, which knew those waters better than anyone.

But there was little time remaining.

Back in Camp Clay, more men were dying.

To make matters worse, Sergeant Brainard discovered that someone was stealing what little food they had left.

There was great indignation in the camp.

To think that in our midst was a man with a nature so devoid of humanity as to steal food from his starving companions when they might be dying.

Sergeant David Brainard.

The culprit revealed himself when he Stole an eight a half pound of bacon, which made him sick.

It turned out to be a private named Charles Henry.

Charles Henry was an alias.

His real name was Henry Buck.

He was a convicted swindler who had bounced checks across the west and served time in prison.

Greely ordered Private Henry to stop stealing food.

But when food continued to disappear, Greely convened a court martial.

He asked every man what they had seen and then he asked for their verdict.

Vote ye guilty or not guilty.

Guilty.

Guilty.

Guilty.

Guilty.

Guilty.

So be it.

Greely instructed his three most trusted sergeants to execute Henry on the spot if he were caught stealing again.

But this didn't deter him.

In early June, Private Henry was caught stealing food from the last time.

Greely wrote out his orders for the execution and a note that survives in the archives today.

It says, Private Henry will be shot today.

All care being taken to prevent his injuring anyone, as his physical strength is greater than that of any two men.

The three sergeants told Henry to kneel and make his peace.

Instead, Henry leapt for an ax lying on the ground.

One of the sergeants put his foot on the axe as another shot him in the chest.

[gunshot] They left his body where it fell.

It's OK. Back at base camp, we're curious how the shrimp and seaweed could have sustained them for so long.

We decided to stage a culinary experiment.

We appoint Robson Moser cook.

That's a good way to clean out your eyebrows.

It doesn't look too bad so far.

During the spring of 1884, they had managed to collect a total of more than 1,000 pounds of shrimp.

This was amazing, since we were only able to catch about one ounce, and we have a pretty big net.

But I guess you can do some pretty amazing things when you're desperate.

I got some flavoring here.

Hey, what's up.

[laughter] Who wants to dig in?

Oh, sure.

There we go, right?

Oh thanks.

I'll have to give you another one.

OK, wait.

We got to divide it.

Come on.

Rationed.

I'll divide it up and you choose.

I think we should use Bob's measuring cup.

Right!

Oh no, we need scales.

We need scales, yeah.

Yeah, got everything-- This stuff looks awesome.

It's good!

It's totally amazing.

Oh man, delicacy.

That's shrimp.

Fine.

They boiled it with their old shoes, that's why it tastes so bad.

The food is better than we expected, but there's certainly not much of it to go around.

When spring finally arrived, Greely's men began to shoot a few more birds and small animals.

But the entire party still would have starved to death were it not for a great stroke of luck on April 12.

A bear, A bear!

Sergeant Brainard spotted a polar bear lurking near the camp.

The men must have been incredibly weak by now, but they managed to chase the bear for three miles and finally shot and killed it.

[gunshot] No words can express the rejoicing in our little party today for.

Days and weeks, we had been expecting death at any time.

And its approach had been robbed of all its terrors by our sufferings.

This fellow is our salvation.

Sergeant David Brainard.

But the few hundred pounds of bear meat didn't last long.

And by Easter, eight more men had died, including both Inuit hunters.

Out of 25 men, only 16 were now left.

Death in our midst has ceased to rouse our emotions.

How indifferently we look on anything of this kind now.

After Lin's death, Rice and Ralston slept soundly in the same bag with the corpse, which we hope to have strength enough to prepare for burial tomorrow.

Sergeant David Brainard.

On April 9, Greely's second in command, Lieutenant James Lockwood died.

And Greely's heart was weakening.

Anticipating his own death, Greely felt he had to appoint a successor.

So despite their many disagreements, he turned to Lieutenant, his former second in command.

Kislingbury-- But the reconciliation didn't last long.

Soon afterward, the pair had a violent argument, in which Greely accused Kislingbury of lying.

On the night of June 1, Lieutenant Kislingbury various fallen in and out of consciousness and acting strangely.

(SINGING) Nearer my god to thee, nearer-- My father was able to meet with Brainard and have lunch with him during World War II.

And he said that my father-- my great grandfather's sang, "Nearer My God To Thee" and said the names of his boys when he died.

Harry.

Douglas.

Walter.

Wheeler.

I look back on this affront to Lieutenant Kislingbury with a deep and abiding regret, as I should have so forgotten what was due to my men and myself as to allow a sense of wrong and irritation to overcome my cooler judgment.

Lieutenant Adolphus Greely.

A week later, on June 9, Dr. Pavy died of an overdose from the narcotics in his medicine kit.

The next day, Greely ordered Sergeant Brainard to divide the last of the food into equal parts and give it out to the men.

He had managed to make one month's rations last eight, but now, it was just about gone.

The issue consisted of 12 and 1/2 ounces of bacon and tallow to each man.

This is intended to last for two days, but if they choose, it can be consumed at once.

Heaven only knows what we will do now.

Present indications are that we can do nothing else but die.

Sergeant David Brainard.

The dozen men remaining cut up their seal skin clothing and tried to eat that.

Despite being given extra rations to keep him alive, Greely was now almost gone himself, barely conscious at all.

The men were dying on an almost daily basis.

Crumbs of bread at our winter quarters, which are occasionally exposed through the melting, now or picked from the heaps of the vilest filth and eaten with relish.

Henry ate ptarmigan droppings.

Bender ate caterpillars and worms.

12 days after Sergeant Brainard handed out the last of the food, Naval commander Woodfield Scott Schley.

Reached a point on Greenland directly across from where Greely and his men lay dying.

Schley almost bypassed Cape Sabine, but at the last minute, decided to cross the water and leave an emergency food cache for himself.

By sheer luck, a scouting party noticed the pendulum sticking out of Greely's care and found an old no reporting he was camped just around the point.

Schley gave three long blasts on the ship's steam whistle to summon his men-- [steam whistle sounding] --and headed as fast as he could for Greely.

In Greely's camp, the men thought they heard a strange noise above the howling wind.

The strongest of the group climbed up the ridge and signaled with their distress flag, which had blown over.

Greely and his men had finally been found.

The rescuers discovered a horrific sight.

The bodies of dead men lay scattered about.

Inside, the partially collapsed tent, they found seven starving men and the body of an eighth who had died the day before.

They had been too weak to drag him out.

Greely whispered, did what I came to do-- beat the best record.

He referred to surpassing the world record for traveling farthest north, what he considered his greatest accomplishment.

Only six of the 25 men survive, including Greely and his senior enlisted man, Sergeant David Brainard.

The six survivors returned to Portsmouth, New Hampshire to a hero's welcome.

The long lost arctic explorers had suddenly reappeared from the dead-- at least a few of them.

And Adolphus and Henrietta were reunited aboard ship and given a few private moments to themselves.

There were parades, receptions, and fireworks.

But the triumph did not last long.

Within days, rumors began to leak out from the sailors that some of the bodies had been carved up.

Was it possible that these six men survived on the flesh of their brethren?

Perhaps this is why the navy had sealed the bodies in cast iron caskets and ordered them to remain shut.

The grandfather of one of the men, Private William Whistler, refused to believe the government's adamant denials of cannibalism.

Two days after an elaborate funeral in which 2,500 people and a governor attended, the family quietly exhumed the body.

On a Monday, six men opened the grave and brought up the casket and took it under a nearby tree, placed it on some carpenter's saw horses, and the top was unbolted.

They found a, I guess one could consider, a gruesome sight.

It was immediately recognizable, because of the color of his hair.

They recognized right away, yes, this is Willie.

And they found the arms, the legs, and the back of the torso were essentially stripped of flesh.

All six men denied to their dying day that they knew anything about cannibalism.

Greely said, I know of no law of man or god that was violated.

The scandal plagued my ancestor.

And for the rest of his life, little boys called them Eat Em Alive Greely.

And other famous explorers refused to be seen with him.

But it didn't seem to hurt his career much.

He rose in rank to Major General and eventually won America's highest honor.

General Greely, on behalf of the president, It is my pleasure to present to you in the name of the Congress of the United States, the Medal of Honor in recognition of your long life of distinguished public service.

When awarding him the congressional medal, the government failed to mention his time in the arctic.

Perhaps they were still embarrassed all these years later.

Just before he flew home, Jeff Clark joined us on Cape Sabine and we all walked up to cemetery ridge.

I have here, I think, a little surprise, in that I've got Greely's prayer book.

This is the prayer book that Greely had and that he used not only to say psalms every Sunday, but to read the burial service for these five people and the others that died here at Camp Clay.

And I think it's appropriate to read one of the prayers from that order for the burial of the dead to honor those who suffered and died here.

Almighty God, with whom to live the spirits of those who depart, hence in the Lord, and with whom the souls of the faithful after they are delivered from the burden of the flesh-- As I stood before the barely visible indentations in the gravel that 120 years ago held the starved bodies of my ancestors men, it took me right back to that place and time.

And we beseech Thee that we, with all those who were departed from faith with Thy holy name, may have our perfect consummation and blessed both in body and soul, in Thine eternal and everlasting glory.

Amen.

There are none of them, perfect men, but I think they really faced up to a real as hard a challenge as any human being could possibly face up to.

And for that, I'm very proud of them as I'm proud of you.

Thank you.

Thank you for all you've done.

Thank you.

Thanks to you.

[pensive music] Toward the end, the party medic, Henry Biederbick, wrote in his diary, Lieutenant Greely has shown himself to be a man of more force of character and in every way greater than I had believed him to be.

I am very sorry not to have found out sooner his full worth.

[pensive music]