Ernie was anything but alone.  In sick bay pajamas, perched on the fresh linens of an adjustable bed, talking with an admiring audience of corpsmen and patients.  "Oh, I'm sorry," I said as he saw me enter;  "--didn't know you had company.  I'll come back later,"  and stepped back as though to leave.

"Come back here, dammit!" was his reaction.  With nods of greeting to myself, his audience quietly moved away.

"How's the man doing?" he wanted to know, referring, of course, to Abbott.

"It looks real good," I told him, and gave such details as were known from the latest reports.  Fully conscious, some areas of numbness, but chances look good for full recovery.  There had been no heartbeat or breathing when he arrived at Collett's sick bay, and his body temperature was down to 92.  But Collett's Chief Pharmacist's Mate had everything ready, knew what to do because of Arctic experience, and brought him back.  "It was close -- awfully close.  Just a few more minutes -- maybe only seconds....."

"--and we'd have lost him."  Crawford finished what I'd been saying.  "Goddam --!"  He shook his head slightly, with a sad look perhaps at the thought that our efforts might so easily have been in vain.  Then brightening, "but we got him!  Oh God, that feels food!"  Another pause, then:  "We did it!  We actually did it!"

"We sure did," I said, "and we got him in time."  The first part of Ernie's remarks were expression of his feelings for having saved a man's life.  The last had to do with the fact that the equipment and the techniques we had practiced and talked about so much had actually worked.

"How about yourself?" I asked.  "How're you doing?"

"Aw heck," he said, "I didn't really need to come down here.  I wasn't cold.  A little chilly, but no more than a fellow gets on deck in the cold.  Just a hot shower was all I needed.  That's what they had me do after they checked my temperature -- take a hot shower."

"What was your temperature?  Did they say?"

"They said it was only down a half-degree, and nothing to worry about.  The only thing -- the only problem was my hands.  They weren't cold -- that is they didn't feel cold -- just numb, no feeling at all because they were so cold they lost all feeling.  They hurt like hell for a while when the feeling was coming back."

The tight wristbands on the frogman suit probably contributed to that numbness.  Gloves (which frogmen wore in cold water) might have helped.  Could he have worked the equipment with gloves on?

"I think so," he said.  "Sure I could.  The sling and harness -- hooking on -- they're real easy to work.  Felt like I was wearing gloves anyway; boxing gloves like you said it would feel.  That's why I lost the knife."

"I should have had a lanyard on that."

"You can't think of everything."

"True.  But I should have thought of that."  Then changing the subject, "How are they treating you here?  Looks like you've really got it made."

"They're treating me like royalty,"  he said, "...like I was hero, or something.  Gave me a shot of brandy medicinal, they call it  -- first thing.  Then just a while ago one of 'em came in and said I looked so bad he'd brought me another one.  Guess they could get away with it 'cause the doc's not here.  If they give me another shot of that I'll probably be askin' you to take me back out there."

"Don't tell the rest of the gang about that," I cautioned, "or they might all want to go."

"Dammit, I don't need to be here," Ernie complained.  "But they're saying they gotta keep me here 'til the doc gets back, so he can check me.  How long do you think that'll be?"

"Hard to tell.  I expect he'll stay on the Collett until Abbott's in good enough shape to be brought aboard here."

"Well, I guess that's where he's needed most right now."  There was a tone of resignation, as if he expected he might have to remain in sick bay for several days.

"Not really," I said.  "But he might learn something."

"What do you mean?" came a puzzled response.