The following is a chronological collection of diary entries from Officer Aksel Olsen, pertaining to the investigation of the disappearance of the Sirius Sled Patrol Echo Team. Echo Team consisting of Senior Officer Jonas Ulrich and Officer Aksel Olsen who were sent on a rescue mission across the Greenland National Park with supplies for a year and twelve dogs to find Delta Patrol. Echo Patrol never returned, yet Delta Patrol would return to base at Daneborg a year later having never been in contact with their brothers on Echo Patrol. What follows is classified information, for your eyes only.

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Aksel Olsen’s Journal, 17th September 1953.

Dearest Anna,

His black eyes follow me wherever I go. Down the echoing corridors of our station here in Daneborg I hear the scraping of his paws on the boarded floors. Outside in the snow, he bounds behind me, like a white shadow that dances at my feet. He doesn’t listen to a word I say, of course, which is troubling at this moment. At the very least he’s got an interest in me, following me around, even if he does just think I have food hidden in every pocket of my parka. His ears twitch and perk up when I ruffle my hands in my pockets and he looks at me with a deep longing. A longing of a trained dog, not a chaotic puppy, something in him feels wiser than his four months seems to indicate, something smarter... His name is Bjorn, a husky, a beautiful dog with all-white fur, thick and rough to touch. His all-white fur is very odd. I will have to trust this dog with my life soon. I will ask him to pull a sled with the others deep into the winter night of Greenland. A vast tundra that I’ve only read about in books. It is my life’s dream to make it here, to be a soldier on the ice. To Protect and serve my country.

When I was attending school, I was obsessed with books, Anna. When I first saw the picture of The Franz Josef Fjord, I would day dream for hours, ignoring my schoolwork thinking about what it would be like to stand before it. To stand in awe of the majesty of nature and do nothing but look on. I would read about all the explorers who set foot in this place and here I am a step away. I won’t fool you by saying I am excited. The cold bites at you every time you step outside and it will only get worse in the months where the sun will not rise. However, in my darker moments I remind myself that Erik The Red walked here, all the explorers I read about in the Library, walked here. Now I walk in their footsteps. I think about that and I think about you. Those are the things that get me through the day when I am not training on the sled. There’s no time to think on the sled.

Well, thinking it over, I won’t be asking the dog to pull the sled, I will be commanding him. I need to say that in my head over and over. The dog will have to go to his limits, through the fog and the snow, testing himself until exhaustion. We will do the same. He’ll have a job, we will have a mission and we will and toil in our work, together. It is hard to imagine him in a pack; at the moment the other dogs seem to get the better of him in their fights. It is hard to know if the dogs are play fighting or actually fighting. The growls and barks seem to ring out around the base. The only real noise apart from the trudge of men in snowshoes through the fresh snow, or the howling winds that whistle in your ear. I believe he might be described as the runt of the litter, however, he seems tenacious and determined despite not being the same size as the others. I watch him now, playing in the snow, burying his head in the white foam and then shaking his head back and forth, his diagonal jaw wide open. His small teeth sticking out at the top and bottom of his mouth, pointing at each other, as if he is smiling and happy.

It is a marvel to watch animals play, isn’t it? They are like children, lost in a moment of simplicity, no cares here in this world. His fur is so white that if you stare he blends in with the background, and all that is left are two black eyes pulsing in the endless white of Greenland. When I return, perhaps our house will be full of children and dogs, running, laughing, and playing.

To be honest, I see no work in him, but there’s something curious about him. A quality I cannot quite fathom. A twinkle of mischief in his eye, with some unspoken bond between us. I recognize something in him, perhaps he is too carefree a spirit for this desolate place. The wind whips and howls outside, I am happy to be inside in the officer’s Barracks. As I write the letter he is playing outside the window, chasing after some of the men here in the camp. I just hope he’s strong enough, for both of us. My main job will be to toughen him up as he grows, get him ready for the sled and the other dogs, as I want him to have the honor of being a sled dog. I hope your mother and father are well, my dear. Bjorn has appeared by my side as I write, his head just about up to my knee. Someone has opened the door and the cold rushes into the room almost blowing my pages away. One day I will call him and he shall appear. We will be friends won’t we boy?

He looks like a cross between a teddy bear and a dog. One of those bears you get on Sugmunsson Street, he will grow so much in a year and I hope he’ll be ready. It’s my job to make him ready, or else… I don’t want to think about what will happen to him. I will tell you this Anna. I make him a promise, as I look into his eyes. There is something about him that seems so helpless. I tell him a secret, I feel that way too like we don’t really know what we are getting into. We are full of contradictions, aren’t we? The student is just as conflicted as the master. Out here on the ice, it is impossible not to feel such a way, but I must control it, mold it. He will have no true master in the end, but if he does what I say in front of my partner and the other dogs I will look out for him, maybe we will retire too … when all of this is over. I’ll take him home, I don’t know how, but I’ll get him home. His eyes look up at me, full of innocence and brightness as I tell him this. Curious, he sits perfectly still. Unusual for him. I scratch his chin, the fur feeling like a brush you polish your boots with. Something comes to me and I ask him for his paw, something I have done hundreds of times before with no response. Pausing for a moment, as if to think about my speech, he turns his body slightly and lifts his paw up to my open palm.

Goodnight from Bjorn and me,

Love,

Aksel.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three