The pilot’s voice was hardly audible over the speakers of the console. The Piper Navaho was on a mission of mercy up the Canada’s far north. A young man suffering a gun shot wound was very critical condition. The nursing station had requested the medical evacuation because the patient’s condition was beyond their professional capabilities.

John Simpson was the console operator on duty this cold February night. His shift started at nine p.m. and would end at midnight. Why should he think this shift be any different than other shifts? Nothing very exciting ever happened in this part of the Arctic. His thoughts were immediately flashed back to his days on duty in eastern section of the DEW Line. “Man, what difference,” John heard himself yelp out loud. His memories of the overseas high flyers calling “Cape Hooper Radio” so they can pass on their position reports or ask for weather information or request permission to climb to a higher altitude. At times John, along with other operators would have to ask the pilots to squawk ident on their transponders so the pack of overseas incomers can be sorted out and properly identified. Along with the overseas traffic there was all of the local air traffic. Smaller planes working for geologists and the natural resources people would be constantly on the airwaves. This evening started out as usual. Nothing but the radar lights to keep his attention. CBC was the only radio station audible on the console. “I think when the shift is over I’ll grab a beer,” John thought to himself as he signed on to the operations log. He checked the wind instruments on the console. This was a ritual preformed out of habit because at this time of the evening the information the instruments disclosed would not be required, or so he thought. Winds were very light from the north. Temperature was showing a minus 40 Celsius. The altimeter was showing that the pressure was close to what it should be at 2996.

As John watched the single golden transponder return of a small aircraft appear on his screen he was first thought was “now who the blazes is this.” His training and experience had taught him how to calculate course and speed of aircraft that had to be initiated. The course was approximately a south west. His speed calculations were approximately 200 knots. “Not a real concern,” John thought. “It is probably just a little puddle jumper servicing the small communities.” The aircraft’s initial contact was logged with its’ time of first paint, the position of where it was detected and the course. Now he had to get this mechanical bird identified. The information was sent via the teletype to the military data centre in Hall Beach. The duty data officer immediately got John on his party line to advise him that the aircraft was a Piper Navaho call sign VOM. There was an accident at one of the villages and VOM was called in to medic vac the patient to Yellowknife, the nearest place that had medical facilities capable to handle such emergencies.