 This is Ed Murrow, and this is the canopy of ice that covers the Arctic Ocean. The frozen barrier that throughout history has barred shipping from a body of water five times the size of the Mediterranean Sea. Only once, shortly after the turn of the century, has man reached the North Pole by a surface route. No ship has ever reached the pole. Even the most powerful icebreakers are helpless against this frozen barrier. On April 25th, 1958, the Nautilus departed her home port of New London, Connecticut. Destination, the Pacific, by way of the Panama Canal. The announced purpose of this crew was to indoctrinate Pacific fleet units in the capabilities of nuclear submarines. Even as Nautilus plied the Atlantic waters southward for Panama, the thoughts of the crew occasionally turned to the three probes Nautilus had made under the ice pack of the Arctic in 1957. For preparations were being made for further under ice exploration to be conducted the following summer. Technicians were at work on a myriad of electronic equipment. A special modified version of an inertial navigation system, originally designed for use in missiles, had been installed. And the special high-latitude gyro compasses were checked and rechecked. Preparations were made for installing a pressure-proof TV camera for viewing the underside of the Arctic ice. But as the Nautilus transited the Panama Canal, her crew also thought of the West Coast ports they were scheduled to visit. San Diego, San Francisco, Seattle. And they thought of the long, tedious days of operations they were to conduct, initiating the personnel of the Pacific fleet in the ways of the nuclear navy. Finally, the West Coast tour was over. On the 9th of June, shortly after midnight, the Nautilus slipped quietly from her birth in Seattle, presumably starting her homeward voyage south. But the course set by the Nautilus actually took her farther and farther north. Unseen beneath the sea, the Nautilus journeyed north to the edge of the Arctic ice pack. Then, under. The voyage to the North Pole was underway, but this under-ice venture was short-lived. Unexpected ice conditions nearly turned this probe into the Bering and the Tukchi seas into disaster. The Nautilus was forced to turn back. Changes in the navy are commonplace, and the men of the navy are accustomed to changes. Therefore, it came as little surprise to hear that the Nautilus Pacific tour was to be prolonged, to include a visit to Hawaii. On June 28, the Nautilus sailed into Pearl Harbor, site of the navy's great Pacific submarine base. Rear Admiral Grenfell, the commander of the submarine force, U.S. Pacific Fleet, officially welcomed Nautilus and her crew to Hawaii. And the people of the islands opened their arms and their hearts to this great ship. Nothing was lacking. On the 23rd of July, Nautilus bid aloha to the islands of Hawaii. The Hawaiian interlude was over. Except at high-level conferences, no word of the recently attempted voyage to the pole had passed the lips of a single crew member. Presumably, the return trip to New London via the Panama Canal had commenced. The crew of the Nautilus, a few high-ranking navy officials and civilian scientists, and the President of the United States, knew that the men of the Nautilus had still another port to visit before they were to see their loved ones again. The port of call, Portland, England. And the shortest sea route from Hawaii to England is not by way of the Panama Canal. All hands on the Nautilus knew their destination, and the perilous route, they were to follow in reaching it. And they remembered their nearly disastrous trip less than two months earlier. This time, however, ice conditions had been thoroughly scouted from the air by the ship's navigator. Lieutenant Jenks had traveled to Alaska, in Cognito, and flown over the Arctic expanse many times, gathering vital information. Success was by no means assured, but the probability of success had been greatly increased. Each man had been given the opportunity to leave the ship before she embarked on this journey into the unknown. Not one had availed himself of this opportunity. The 2,900-mile journey to the narrow Bering Straits, which separate Alaska from Soviet Siberia, was used to good advantage in pouring over the plans for their mission under the ice. Operation Sunshine. Special charts provided by the Hydrographic Office were minutely studied. All electronic equipment was carefully tuned, and the revolutionary inertial navigation system and high-latitude compasses received the doting care of a favorite child. Periscope bearings were taken of landmarks on the coast of Alaska. The ship's position was carefully checked. The Nautilus took a last look at the vast expanse of Arctic ice which lay ahead. This is the foreboding site which greeted the Nautilus as she began the most important leg of her historic voyage. Then, nothing of the Nautilus remained to be seen above the surface of the sea. Silently and cautiously, the Nautilus knows down into the Barrow Sea Valley. Above, a continent of ice covering the Arctic sea, a frozen mantle of white that had always proved invincible to man's onslaught from the sea. Below, the little chart at bottom, and ahead, 1,800 miles of cold, watery darkness. Outside, water cold enough to kill a man in a matter of minutes. But within the cylindrical steel shell that is the hull of the Nautilus, the crew relaxes in a controlled atmosphere. Temperature? A constant 72 degrees. Relative humidity? 46%. Life was normal. For the Nautilus, everything was routine. Life aboard the Nautilus was very comfortable. The nuclear power plant which had driven her over 120,000 miles, mostly submerged, also provided heat and electricity. It provided the power which operates the jukebox, and the coke machine. It provided the light by which a man can shine his shoes, or read 20,000 leagues under the sea. And it provided the light by which a man could write a letter. By the time you get this, we will have completed our trip under the North Pole. A lot of people will probably make a big fuss over it, but this has really been a pretty easy cruise. It was a little hair-raising when we were trying to find our way under the ice, but the tensions eased up a bit now, and everybody's a little more relaxed. Some of the boys are holding rope yarn Sunday, cooks hustling up some chow, or take us playing the guitar. Yes, everybody was a little more relaxed, or almost everybody. But when you're making 20 knots, 400 feet under the Arctic ice pack, the navigator can't relax. Always ploughing, always checking his instruments. There were no stars to navigate by, no landmarks to be guided by. Even the depth of the water ahead was unknown. Few soundings existed of the Arctic Ocean, and most of these inaccurate. On the second day under the ice, the Nautilus routine was abruptly broken. Soundings indicated the ocean bottom was coming up rapidly to meet the ship. Speed was reduced, and further reduced. The depth of the water continued to decrease. Anxiously the ship crept forward. Was this to be the end of the journey? Was the Nautilus to be again frustrated in her attempt to gain the pole? Again, fortunes smiled on Nautilus. The sounding showed the bottom was leveling off, and finally deep water again. Nautilus had crossed an uncharted underwater mountain range and added another significant piece of information to the world's scant knowledge of the Arctic Ocean. Nautilus had the latest and best navigation equipment. But the best equipment in the world is only as good as the men who operated. And the men of the Nautilus are good. The objective of the Nautilus and every man aboard was now to attain the north pole and get through to the Atlantic. Even before reaching the pole, the Nautilus had again proven the value of nuclear power in submarine. As the sure hands of her crew guided her northward, the feeling of confidence in this ship was evident. There was no need to surface to revitalize the air. Carbon dioxide scrubbers and carbon monoxide burners purged the ship's air of unwanted gases. And fresh oxygen was periodically added to the atmosphere. There was no need to snorkel to recharge batteries. Nuclear power had made Nautilus virtually independent of the Earth's atmosphere. But confidence did not give way to complacency. The plotting continued, the listening continued, the looking continued. And as the Nautilus got nearer and nearer to the top of the world, quiet excitement began to mount. Until that report, distance to the pole, 1,000 yards. Commander William R. Anderson stepped to the microphone in the control. This is the captain speaking. In a few moments, Nautilus will realize a goal long sought by those who are maintaining the North Pole. I would like to suggest at this time, as we approach the pole, that we observe a brief period of silence, dedicated first, to he who has guided us so truly. Second, to all those men who have preceded us. Art of failure. And third, in our furnished hopes for a world peace. 2, 1, march. For the USA and the US Navy, the North Pole. There was quiet jubilation. But more significant, there was the sense of fulfillment. The feeling of satisfaction that every pioneer must feel in reaching his goal. The Greenland Sea. 36 hours after the historic polar crossing, the Nautilus surface. The voyage from Pacific to Atlantic, by way of the North Pole, was now a matter of record. Nautilus had made history. The men of the Nautilus had blazed a trail under the Arctic pack, which reduced the distance from the Orient to Europe by almost half. A feat which seems destined to have enormous impact on future sea commerce. On her return to New York from England, Nautilus received a hero's welcome from a grateful American people. Commander Anderson was awarded the Legion of Merit. And the entire crew was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation. The first such award ever made in peacetime. Rear Admiral Hammond G. Rickover, renowned as father of the nuclear submarine, was on hand to welcome the Nautilus as the personal representative of the President of the United States. The citizens of New York raised their voices in congratulations. And their voices echoed throughout the free world.