.. the Rudd boys originated. As a film it exemplified the last embers of ember that were still being instilled in the bosom of New Zealand’s youth.
What I had not realised was that the 2.6-metre tall marble statue, which was badly damaged in the earthquake, had been sculpted by Scott’s wife Kathleen. It had stood there since 1917, seven years after Scott’s death. The film reinforced Scott’s heroism, stoicism and bravery and one could be forgiven in thinking that Scott was the true victor in the race for the Pole.
It was a very different world from ours not just in terms of technology – no GPS, no wireless, no aircraft, and primitive equipment - that even when you see the photographs of them you cannot understand the attitude of men for whom the Empire and its values was at its zenith. It is only when you read the diaries that you realise that the gulf that separates us from them is more than just years. These were courageous men of a kind that, I think, cannot exist now in the same way.
Scott is remembered for the manner of his death returning from the South Pole having arrived there on the 17th of January to find that Amundsen had beaten him by thirty-three days. The feeling of desolation that he and his team must have felt in that infinitely white space when they found Amundsen’s sledge with a black flag to it cannot be imagined.
Scott wrote: The Norwegians have forestalled us and are first at the pole. It is a terrible disappointment , and I am very sorry for my loyal companions. …. Great God! This is an awful place and terrible enough for us to have laboured to it without the reward of priority.
It had taken them eleven weeks to get there and, weakened, Scott, Wilson, Oates, Bowers and Evans now had the 1300 kms to get back.
Evans died in mid-February near the foot of the Beardmore Glacier after two bad falls. By March, Oates was suffering from severe frostbite and, knowing he was holding back his companions, walked out into the freezing conditions never to be seen again.
Scott wrote: Oates’ last thoughts were of his other, but immediately before he took pride in thinking that his regiment would be pleased at the bold way he met his death….. He was a brave soul. He slept through the night, hoping not to wake; but he woke in the morning, yesterday. It was blowing a blizzard. He said” I am just going outside, and may be some time.’
Despite frostbite they walked another 30kms and made their final camp on 19 March. The next day a fierce blizzard prevented their making any progress. During the next nine days, as their supplies ran out, and with storms still raging outside the tent, Scott and his companions wrote their farewell letters.
They died of starvation and exposure in their tent on 29 March 1912. They were in fact only 18 km from a pre-arranged supply depot. It was only because the returning party on the Terra Nova did not follow Scott’s instructions that cemented Scott’s fate - there had been no dog parties to meet him.
Eight months later, a search party found the tent, the bodies and Scott's diary. The bodies were buried under the tent, with a cairn of ice and snow to mark the spot.
“We have found them. To say it has been a ghastly day cannot express it. Bowers and Wilson were sleeping in their bags. Scott had thrown the flaps of his bag open at the end. His left hand was stretched over Wilson, his lifelong friend’. Everything was tidy and the records in perfect order.
Near the place where Oates disappeared they put up a cross with the inscription: ‘Hereabouts died a very gallant gentleman, Captain E. G. Oates of the Inniskilling Dragoons. In March 1912, returning from the Pole, he walked willingly to his death in a blizzard to try and save his comrades, beset by hardship.’
Whilst some have cavilled that he was not a good organiser or leader he was, in the end, the victim of bad luck. When you read the accounts of his party you can only be struck by the tremendous loyalty and respect that he engendered amongst his party – so I think leadership as a personal quality was not lacking. But, yes, there were failures in planning and attitude. The decision not to use dogs to pull sleds to the Pole, and also ultimately to use as food was a costly mistake of sentimentality. When Amundsen was feted, perhaps reluctantly, by the British for his deeds at the very end the Chairman of the Royal Geographic Society called for three cheers for the dogs.
Did he need to take a party of five? Why attempt the journey with untried mechanical sledges that proved a liability? Why try with ponies that also could not cope with the appalling conditions. Here, at least, English sentiment did not prevail and the ponies were eaten.
Scott’s final diary entries are brave and touching: ‘My dear Mrs Wilson. If this reaches you, Bill and I will have gone out together. We are very near it now and I should like you to know how splendid he was at the end – everlastingly cheerful and ready to sacrifice himself for others, never a word of blame to me for leading him into this mess. He suffered, luckily, only minor discomforts.’
‘His eyes have a comfortable blue look of hope and his mind is peaceful with the satisfaction of his faith, in regarding himself as part of the great scheme of the Almighty. I can do no more to comfort you that to tell you he died, as he lived, a brave, true man – the best of comrades and the staunchest of friends. My whole heart goes out to you in pity.’
Scott also wrote to Sir James Barrie.
‘We are pegging out in a very comfortless spot ….. I am not at all afraid of the end but sad to miss many a humble pleasure which I had planned for the future on our long marches ….. We have had four days of storm in our tent and nowhere’s food or fuel. We did intend to finish ourselves when things proved like this but we have decided to die naturally on the track.’
His last Diary entry was
“We shall stick it out to the end, but we are getting weaker of course and the end cannot be far. It seems a pity, but I do not think I can write more.
R. Scott.
For God's sake, look after our people.”
But for all of us he wrote:
‘We took risks, we knew we took them; things have come out against us, and therefore we have no cause for complaint, but bow to the will of Providence, determined still to do our best to the last ... Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman. These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale, but surely, surely, a great rich country like ours will see that those who are dependent on us are properly provided for.’