Paths of Glory
Page 101
“How many times have you warned us never to do that, in any circumstances?” said Norton as he removed the arm that was covering his eyes. “By the time I replaced them, my eyelids had almost frozen together and I couldn’t see a pace in front of me. I called out to alert Somervell, he yodelled to let me know where he was, and I slowly made my way back down to join him.”
“Some glee club,” said Somervell, attempting a smile. “With the aid of my torch we were able to make our way back down, if somewhat slowly.”
“Thank God for Somervell,” said Norton as Odell placed a handkerchief that he’d soaked in warm water over his eyes.
It was some time before either man spoke again. Norton drew a deep breath. “I don’t believe that there’s ever been a better example of the blind leading the blind.”
This time George did laugh. “So what height did you reach?”
“I’ve no idea, old man,” Norton said, and passed his altimeter to Mallory.
George studied the altimeter for a moment before he announced, “Twenty-eight thousand one hundred and twenty-five feet. Many congratulations, old chap.”
“For failing to climb the final 880 feet?” said Norton, sounding desperately disappointed.
“No. For making history,” said George, “because you’ve regained the altitude record. I can’t wait to see Finch’s face when I tell him.”
“It’s kind of you to say so,” said Norton, “but Finch would be the first to remind me that I should have listened to him and agreed to use oxygen.” He paused before adding, “If this weather holds, I expect to be nothing more than a footnote in history, because, if you’ll forgive the cliché, old fellow, you should walk it.”
George smiled, but made no comment.
Somervell added, “I agree with Norton. Frankly, the best thing you, Odell, and Irvine can do is make sure you get a good night’s sleep.”
George nodded, and although they had all been together for over three months, he shook hands with both his colleagues before returning to his own tent to try to capture that good night’s sleep.
He might even have succeeded if one of Norton’s remarks hadn’t remained constantly on his mind: If this weather holds…
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
JUNE 6TH, 1924
AND THEN THERE were three.
George rose long before dawn to witness a full moon glistening on the snow, making it look like a lawn of finely cut diamonds. Despite the temperature being minus thirty degrees, he felt a warm glow, and a confidence that they would succeed, even if he hadn’t made up his mind who they would be.
Did he really need to bother with oxygen after Norton and Somervell had come so close? And hadn’t Odell proved to be better acclimatized than either of them? Or would Odell once again fall by the wayside just when the prize was within his grasp? Would Irvine’s inexperience become a liability when they stepped into uncharted territory? Or perhaps his enthusiasm, supported by those blessed oxygen cylinders, would be the only thing that would guarantee success?
“Good morning, sir,” said a voice behind him.
George swung around, to be greeted by Irvine’s infectious grin. “Good morning, Sandy,” he replied. “Shall we go and have some breakfast?”
“But it’s only five o’clock,” said Irvine, checking his watch. “In any case, Odell is still asleep.”
“Then wake him up,” said George. “We must be on our way by six.”
“Six?” said Irvine. “But at your final briefing yesterday evening you told us to be up in time for breakfast at eight, ready to move off at nine, because you didn’t want to spend any longer than necessary perched on a ledge at 27,000 feet.”
“Six thirty, then,” conceded George. “If Odell isn’t up by then, we’ll leave without him. And while you’re at it, young man, why don’t you do something useful for a change?”
“Like what, sir?”
“Go and make my breakfast.”
The infectious grin returned. “I can offer you sardines on biscuit, lightly grilled, sardines off the bone with raisins, or the speciality of our tent, sardines—”
“Just get on with it,” said George.
Mallory, Odell, and Irvine, accompanied by five Sherpas carrying tents, equipment, and provisions, left the North Col just after 7:30 on the morning of June 6th. Odell had missed breakfast, but he didn’t complain. Guy Bullock was the last to shake hands with George before he left. “See you in a couple of days, old friend,” he said.