Arctic Notebook, Feb. 19: Washington Times Defense and National Security Correspondent John T. Seward is on assignment in frigid northern Alaska, covering the U.S. Army’s “premier Arctic training exercise.” As tensions rise in the frozen north, Mr. Seward’s reporter’s notebook dispatches go inside his experience observing the American military’s preparation for combat in the sub-zero temperatures.
FORT GREELY — Today kicked off my time embedded with the 10th Special Forces Group (SFG). We needed to dress for extremely cold temperatures with little relief. Throughout the day, there would be no tents or buildings nearby to step inside and get warm. I was expecting we would insert by snowmobile to where troops had set up on the training “battlefield.”
There was still risk of frostbite and hypothermia, even wearing my rented expedition parka and quarter-inch felt-lined boots, as temperatures dropped to 0° before windchill. Layering in the morning involved effectively three complete sets of clothing.
After a two-hour drive away from Fairbanks, Alaska, we came to Fort Greely. The missile defense post, the “300 guarding 300 million” as it was described last night, co-owns a massive, unforgiving piece of land — Donnelly Training Area — just west of the post.
10th SFG had put their units deep into the simulated battlefield there to act as long-range reconnaissance. To join them required using a snowmobile, known here in Alaska as snowmachines, on not just roads, but cross country and through narrow trails just wide enough for a single sled.
I was delighted to get offered a 900cc, 150-horsepower, turbocharged beast of a snowmobile to use for the day. All but two riders of the five in our group rolled their snowmobiles at some point along the complex and slightly treacherous trail system. Thankfully, I did not roll mine.
When we arrived at Operational Detachment Alpha-0314’s camp, we quickly found the commander and sat down for an interview. He and his troops had been moving and conducting reconnaissance for eight days now, but spirits were high.
The team had gotten a chance to conduct an experimental high-altitude, low-opening freefall parachute jump just last week. They’d solved some problems with jumping out of a helicopter at 13,000 feet and into a near sub-zero environment. His team had come up with some solutions.
They had also started to experience some of the negative impacts of being out in such cold temperatures. Three of the soldiers needed to be evacuated due to risk of hypothermia. The tents the team had all been sleeping in — after eight days of heavy exertion — had started to freeze inside and out from the condensation in their breath as they slept.
When I asked what he had found surprising about operations in this environment, the commander said it was “how quickly your body starts fighting against you to stay alive.”
“This environment is an environment where you’re not only battling an enemy that’s trying to find you, but the environmentals and the weather that’s also trying to kill you,” he said.
We stopped after an hour for the team to continue training and to take a coffee break.
On the way back to link up with the ODA, I had deja vu. While I wasn’t driving, I saw snow banks on the sides of the road to the remote training area that looked similar to yesterday. Low contrast, and it was hard to see where they started and stopped.
With an abundance of blind corners and lone vehicles, my hosts had tried to avoid driving in the middle of the road. Then, without much fanfare, our windshield was covered in powdery snow. We were stuck.
Luckily, this time there was a recovery truck not far down the road that pulled us out. A couple tugs from a kinetic recovery rope and some recovery driving from your intrepid reporter.
The day effectively wrapped up with us riding out as ODA-0314 met with their sister unit, ODA-0313. The latter’s team had ridden over 12 miles and crossed the main river, the Tanana, to get to their compatriots. After they’d connected, they went to plan for a reconnaissance mission they expected in the morning.
As I close out for the evening, it’s -2° outside.
This is the second installment of a four-part Threat Status series, “Arctic Notebook.” Click here for the first installment.
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• John T. Seward can be reached at jseward@washingtontimes.com.
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