 Family Theatre presents Bing Crosby from Hollywood the Mutual Network in cooperation with Family Theatre presents the Losers and now here is your host Bing Crosby. Thank you Tony Lafrono. Family Theatre's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families and peace for the world. Family Theatre urges you to pray, pray together as a family. And now to our transcribed drama The Losers with Dan O'Hurley he as Captain Robert Scott. By December of the year 1911 two separate exploration parties each taking a different route were toiling across the frozen wastes of the Antarctic in a race to the South Pole. One group headed by Rold Amundsen the daring Norwegian explorer won that race and returned to civilization the following April but it was nearly seven months later before the world learned the full story of the second party the Losers and the unforgettable gallantry of its five members as recorded in the diary of their leader Captain Robert Scott of the British Royal Navy. At last we're ready to start upon the final leg of our journey. We are camped tonight within an hour's march of Beardmore Glacier. The pole itself is but one hundred and fifty miles beyond. I believe my judgment in selecting both Lieutenant Bars and Captain Oates to be part of the group making the last swift dash to the pole will ultimately be vindicated even though my good friend Dr. Wilson has his doubts. I realize perfectly well what you're doing Robert but the fact remains adding the fifth man was a distinct risk. I think you'll find his advantages more than outweigh the risk. Four men couldn't have pulled that sledge ten miles over today's terrain. I know and the five of us pulled it thirteen. It's only the rations that concern me. All right. Look at these calculations. Close that ten flap would you. Yes the wind's rising a bit. Are Evans and Bars still unpacking the sledge? Yes and Riloke standing by. I think he misses his ponies. All right. Look here. We've estimated our supplies to last four men five and one half weeks. Yes. But with the extra man we'll exhaust them in. Sure we'll take in the dimmer's view four weeks. Well even I don't take that dimmer view. I suppose you do. Now look at the mileage chart. Once we've topped Birdmore in a dare so and come on to the plateau we can expect much smoother going. Yeah I should think so. But even if we don't if we can't increase our present mileage per day by one step we'll still have reached the pole and returned to the first supply cache a full five days ahead of schedule. Robert I believe that from now on I'll stick to my sketching and let you command this expedition as you wish. Nonsense if you didn't mother us who would. Captain Scott sir. Yes Evans. All unpacked sir. Your turn on the cooker. Right. How's your hand feeling. Oh fine sir just a scratch. Better let Dr. Wilson have another look at it. Be back in a moment. All right sir but it's healing up fine. Captain's got quite enough on his mind without worrying about a little scratch. Even so let's have a look Edgar. Take off your mitts. All right sir. That boring stuff you put on it seems to be doing the trick doctor. It's not doing it nearly as well as it should be. Painful. A bit sir. More than yesterday. About the same. Well I think we'd better give it a fresh dressing. All right sir. And keep it as well covered as possible. This cold isn't helping it. I see the clinic is open for business. Round the clock. How are the knuckles Edgar. Much better thanks Lieutenant. That's the spirit. I'm tired of ashamed of cutting them sir. An old-handed carpenter like me. Well if it's any consolation we find it twice as easy pulling that sledge since you shortened it. He wasn't. Indeed. Lieutenant Burr sir. Yes. Do you think there's any chance we might be seeing the Norwegian party once we make the plateau. If we do I intend that all they'll see of us is our heels. Yes sir. Burr as I don't want to sound like the old maid aunt but. Yes. I feel the less said of Amundsen in the front of Scott is the better. Here. Seriously the captain's put his heart on claiming the pole for England. As have we all. Exactly and I believe that right now we're pushing to the limit of our endurance to win that prize. It can't do the slightest good to stir him up any further. I suppose you right. You've got to give it to those Norwegians. Oh sir that was a nervy thing they did pitching their own camp right on the edge of the ice barrier. And not just nervy either. It put them 60 miles closer to the pole. Well I don't feel an advantage of 60 miles means much in a 900 mile race especially when they're taking an untried route. Yes but we're doing our own hauling now that the ponies are dead. Amundsen's got dogs. Yes and dogs have to be fed. It's just that much more weight to pack. Now I suppose I won't do much good speculating. If we win we win if not. I say Bowers. Yes Oates. Could you Wilson give me a lift up the oil. My foot's acting up a bit. Yes. Right We'll both go. Stay in here and warm up Oates. Edgar will keep you company. Fire. Thank you. Is it frostbite on your foot Captain Oates. No no Edgar just just stiff. I notice we both got a touch of it on the face. I just wondered. So of the others it's nothing. Your hand feeling any better. Oh yes much. I'll be fine. What do you suggest we have for dinner tonight Edgar. Oh I think a mug of Pemigun might be nice Captain Scott. Pemigun for Edgar. What about yours. I rather feel like some Pemigun myself so perhaps with a dash of cocoa mixed in. Pemigun and cocoa I think that can be arranged. Here's your oil Captain. Thank you Mars. Doctor. A bit of a summer breeze blowing up out there. Don't say. Well let's round out the orders. Pemigun seems to be the rainy favorite so far. With a dash of chutney. We happen to be right out of chutney. Very well a raisin. And a biscuit. Raisin, biscuit, cocoa, Pemigun. Any other suggestions. Just one Captain Scott. Yes Mars. Do we have the maitre d'etique to fizz and back to the kitchen. I'm ill at the sight of it. A braver more cheerful group of men I never hoped to serve with. And as we draw nearer the pole slogging day after day through the intense Antarctic cold I come to learn even more that there are no limits to their courage and loyalty. I learned this most especially on the afternoon of January the 12th 1912 when we're a bear 27 miles from the pole itself. Captain Scott. Yes Mars. Look can you see it sir. See what. What are we stopping for. What is it. Oh that thing in the distance. You see it Wilson. No I wait a minute. Is it a mound of snow. That's what I see. And there seems to be something black flying from the top of it. I see it sir. It looks like a flag. One hour later the fact is confirmed. The black speck on the horizon is a flag tied to a piece of sledge. It had been the site of a camp pitched by Amundsen. He had beaten us. He had gone on southward. And won the pole. The following afternoon January the 19th 1912 we reached latitude 90 degrees and came upon attempt. Inside it we found the whole record of Amundsen's achievement and the date of his arrival. One month and two days ahead of us. They must have found an easier route. Undoubtedly. Did you see this sir. What's that bars. A letter addressed to the Norwegian King. And a note for you sir. From Amundsen. What's it say Robert. It's a request. I deliver this letter to the king in case Amundsen should be lost on his return journey. I'm terribly sorry sir. Thank you itch. Well at least we're here. We made it. Yes. And I think that calls for a celebration. Indeed it does. Edgar. Yes Dr. Wilson. Your turn on the cooker. Right Oza. And I've got a little extra delicacy to honor the occasion. Look Captain Scott. What is it bars. It's chocolate sir. Just some chocolate. We had lost. After all the years of planning and the months of struggle. We had lost. 32 days. And yet for all their disappointment and mine. The men kept up a show of spirit. Our main concern now was the return. 900 miles. Two months of steady slogging back along the snow swept plateau. Up and over the beard more glacier. And finally the longest leg of the journey across the frozen stretches of the Great Ice Barrier to Cape Evans. The first week of the return trip was uneventful. Bars and Dr. Wilson had attached a sail to the sledge to take advantage of the wind at our backs. And on a good day we covered as much as 30 miles. But the pace was beginning to tell. Especially on Seaman Evans and Captain Oates. Nor who's Edgar? Thanks. No Doctor. You haven't eaten yourself yet sir. I was waiting until Bars and Scott came in from taking their readings. That little lieutenant Bars is a blooming wonder eh Captain Oates? Yes. He's got more spirit and the Manchurian ponies are yours did. And that's saying something. You know we should be coming across those poor little beasts before long. Unless the snows covered them. Ah and won't a little pony steak go good when we do. Smell that hoose. Ready and waiting. Here Bars. Ah thank you. Captain Scott. What too? More tea oats? No thank you. Edgar. Funny thing sir. You know we never finished a day slogging through this blasted snow but I'm not reminded of the terrible time I had of it in the Royal Indian Marine. Terrible time. You know Susie employs the full title Royal Indian Marine. So we'll know who he is. And where he served. Look am I going to tell the story or not? Don't forget to include an alphabetical list your decorations sir. Take all night. Now as I was saying. To a small group of friends including Captain Lawrence Oates of the sixth in the Skilling Dragoons. Present. Come on now Doctor. Seaman Edgar Evans petty officer of the Royal Navy. Go below and start the engines. Now to continue. And last but not least. Captain Robert Scott. It's a pleasure Lieutenant you were saying. After all these interruptions I'm dashed if I know. It had something to do with India. And a terrible time you had. Oh yes. Yes the heat. That was it. The intolerable. Exactly that's why I came along in the South Pole business to get away from it. Evans did I ever tell you the time I saved the life of the Maharaja of Bangpoor. And where pray is Bangpoor. Captain notes I'm surprised at you. It's a rather poor suburb of Bangpoor. Bangpoor. Well it was a very hot afternoon in August. Yes Captain Scott would you step outside the tent for a moment. Of course Doctor. It's about Evans. The frostbite on his face is getting worse. I hadn't noticed that so much as his hands. He won't admit it but they're practically useless. I know. The man's spirit is remarkable but it's getting so he can't keep up on the marches. That's why I wanted to speak to you. Evans general condition is what's behind those cuts that won't heal and the frostbite. He's simply not getting enough to eat. Or any of us. No but Evans is a larger man than the rest of us by a lot. Basic aggression just isn't enough for him. Yes I realize that but see I've got to think of the whole party. Perhaps you and Bowers and I could afford to share a bit more with him but not Oates. He's not much better off than Evans. Oates claims that limp is just stiffness. He had a look at his foot. And he won't let me. Last night I just couldn't sleep. It's all piling up. Evans Oates we haven't even got to bed more yet. Robert you you've got to fight down your disappointment and losing out to Amundsen. The expedition's not a failure. We've collected invaluable scientific data. It's not that Wilson anymore believe me it's it's it's the awful responsibility I feel to each of you to your families in case. Stop that right now not one of us isn't honored to have been part of this expedition. Mentor to be an honor. It has been and it will be. In a day or so we'll be at the foot of Beardmore that'll mean less wind and milder temperature much easier going all around. Yes if we just can get Evans that far safely. We'll get him there. Don't you worry. The next few days were a nightmare. Dr. Wilson developed snow blinders which meant that the rest of us even poor Evans had to do more than our share of the sledging and camping work. The approach to Beardmore was a labyrinth of crevasses. Each of us lost his footing time and again but Evans even more than the others. Twice we missed the trail completely. By mid morning of February 17th Evans was too weak to continue in his place. Harness to the sledge. In addition his ice shoes had worked loose. I had him stop to fix them while the rest of us slogged down ahead. But an hour later he had still not caught up. He can't be far behind Captain Scott. Even so I think we'd better stop and wait. Between my eyes and this wretched mister I can't see anything. I suppose it's too early for lunch. I guess there's no pressing reason why we couldn't break and eat now while we're waiting for Evans. Here here I'll start the tea. That girl needs some when he comes in. We pitched the tent and waited straining our eyes back along the trail watching for our first glimpse of Evans. Finally we saw him far off moving slowly towards us. The light was too bad to make him out clearly but it was evident something serious was wrong. We put on skis and slogged back along the trail as quickly as we could. I was the first to reach him. He was on his hands and knees. Evans your gloves you've taken off your gloves. Yes our shoes keep coming loose. I heard a titan. How has he got? Look at his hands. Can he walk? I don't think so. Oates stay here with him. We'll go back to camp and get the sledge. By the time we returned Evans had fainted. We carried him with the tent. All the remainder of that day and evening we watched beside him powerless to help. Then about ten o'clock that night without having regained consciousness petty officer Edgar Evans died. We tried not to dwell on Evans passing but the shock of it wouldn't wear off. At one time he'd been the strongest man among us. Now he laid the foot of Beardmore Glacier. It was not until some days later when we reached Shambles camp at the southern edge of the ice barrier that our sagging spirits began at all to revive. But even there bitter disappointment awaited us. Robert? Yes? Those oil cans we buried on the way out. Look at the washer on this one. The leather's rotted clear through. It feels light as a feather. But it was full. We bedridden it up right in the snow. It couldn't have leaked. What's wrong Captain? This blasted fuel cans have empty. How could that happen? Spill you think? I can't see how. What? These cans were buried just below the snow weren't they? Well they're that way at all the depots so the fuel's near as the top. It's something other matter. Where's the fuel oats? Nearly half of it's evaporated. Evaporated? Yes. It was left too near the surface. It looks as if the extreme cold rotted the leather washers. Then during the warm spells the oil vaporized. Well at least it's not all done Captain. And with any luck we should make the next dipper in a few days. Luck? I guess that's what we need most now. Even more than fuel. That night the wind rolls alarmily bringing with it a wave of intense cold that never lifted. The Antarctic summer was nearly at an end. I had carefully measured the oil that was left in the canvass and not by any stretch of economy could we hope to make it last to the next depot 65 miles away. Next morning it took us an hour and a half to get our foot gear on. It was not until just before we broke camp that Dr. Wilson and I compared notes on what we had both seen earlier. Watching Captain Oates struggle into his frozen socks. It's not just the swelling in his foot Robert. It's turned blue. Yeah that always means the same thing. No but in this case I haven't any doubts. It's gangrene. He still seems able to walk. Yes I think he'll walk until he drops. Oates is that kind of man. I'd order him to lie on the sledge and let us pull him. I thought he'd obey me. He wouldn't. You know it's really incredible. Incredible. The human spirit how much suffering it can stand. Not really incredible Robert. Not when you consider who gave us that spirit. We slogged on making fewer and fewer miles every day. I watched Oates drag himself along trying to smile through the creases of agony that lined his face. At last one afternoon while we stopped for lunch he could stand the uncertainty no longer. We had just finished pitching the tent when he put the question directly to Wilson. Doctor have I have I any chance at all to reach the base? Chance why? Well of course you were chance man. If the weather changes we can expect easier going. And don't forget we should be meeting that dog team coming out from the base any day now. They might even be waiting for us as the next depot. You said that before we arrived at the last. We know the teams on its way Oates. I ordered them to leave the base the first of March. And today's the 17th. That's over two weeks they've been traveling. The 17th of March. I've forgotten. What's that Oates? I was born on the 17th of March. Today's my birthday. I'm 32. Many happy returns. Captain Scott tell me. Yes Oates. What should I do? The same as the rest of us. Slog on. I don't think I can go any further. Nonsense. Of course you can. Oates keep trying. You can make it. I know you can. But you've got to keep trying. All right. I'll try. I promise you. That's the spirit. It's my turn on the cooker I believe. Let me take over the lunch Oates. You can use the rest. Oh won't be much to it anyway. I've got the oil right here. Here's the biscuits. You're all doing my work. Now now. You are. It's not fair. Here at least let me go out and get the snow we need for the teapot. Just go in myself. No I want to do something. But your foot won't let you go out. I feel it. It's blowing pretty badly out there. I'll be all right. I promise you. I'll try to make it. Oates limped to the door and walked out into the blizzard. The temperature was 43 below zero. We never saw him again. How long he struggled northward before he lost the trail I can't say. But he did struggle northward toward the next depot on the base. And I think in so doing kept his promise. To the end Oates continued to try. On the blizzard lifted we went on. Wilson bars myself. For four days our eyes were fixed ahead in a despairing desire to see rescue coming towards us in some form. Our eyes our ears everlastingly strained. But we heard nothing except our own labored breathing and the creek of the sledge. We saw nothing. The endless lifeless ice barrier. Finally just 11 miles from one town camp the most substantial depot built along the whole route. We pitched out to end for the last time. Blizzard's still going. Should lead up before long. Blowing for two days. Has that salve made your foot feel any better Robert? Some. Stunning how it came on so quickly. That's frostbite for you. I've been thinking you're both in much better shape to travel than I am. When the blizzard lifts we'll put you on the sledge. No I think it'd be better if you went on ahead to the depot. We wouldn't consider it. I'm ordering you to do it. You'll make better time all round. There's food and fuel there. Plenty of it. Then when you get back if you want to carry me in the sledge that's a different matter. Robert we'd much prefer going the 11 miles without having to return. And if we load you on the sledge? No I'm still in command Wilson. When the storm lifts you go and when you come back I'll be waiting for you. All right Robert. We'll leave as soon as the storm lifts. Well the storm never lifted. Two days later we had only enough tea and food left to last us another 24 hours and no fuel whatsoever. By the following afternoon we had written farewell letters to our families. Wilson was kind enough to show me a portion of the note he was leaving for his wife. He wrote do not be unhappy all is for the best. We are playing a good part in a great scheme arranged by God himself and all is well. We have struggled to the end and have nothing to regret. We will all meet after death and death has no terrors. Eight months later on November 12th 1912 a rescue team sent out from Cape Evans came upon the last camp of the Scott polar party. Above the half buried tent they built a cairn of snow and placed the cross formed of two skis upon it. Inside an attached metal container the rescue party left a written record which reads in part. This is a slight token to perpetuate the successful and gallant attempt of Captain Robert Scott. Dr. E. A. Wilson and Lieutenant H. R. Bowers to reach the South Pole. Also to commemorate their two gallant comrades Captain L. E. G. Oates and Seaman Edgar Evans who died at the foot of the Beardmore Glacier. The Lord gave and the Lord take it away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. This is Bing Crosby again. Those of you who are familiar with family theater know that each week we say a few words to you after the show. This this little chat we we call our commercial but our commercial differs from the ordinary commercial in that we're not trying to sell you something. We want to give you something absolutely free. Our product doesn't come wrapped in a bright gleaming package nor is it heralded by bold worldwide advertising. We have no box tops or coupons to dispense. Our market is unlimited. We don't have to restrict our appeal solely to men or to women or to children for well it appeals to all mankind regardless of age race or color. Our product has no competition because it is the greatest and most sought after commodity that the world has to offer. It is not manufactured in a great mill nor conjured up in a laboratory nor even grown in a fertile field. And what is this product? Well one single word names and describes it but what a vast meaning that one word conveys. The word is happiness and to be more exact family happiness for that is the greatest happiness that man will ever experience in this life. There's only one tool necessary for the manufacture of this product and that tool is prayer family prayer because hand in hand with family happiness goes family unity. For you see the family that prays together really stays together. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of. From Hollywood family theater has brought you transcribed the losers with Dan O'Hurley he as Captain Scott Bing Crosby was your host others in our cast were Richard Peel Eric Snowden Keith McConnell and Alec Finlayson. The script was based upon the book Scott and His Men by Sarah Maynard published by the St. Anthony Gill Press and was written and directed for family theater by John T Kelly with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman. This series of family theater broadcast is made possible by the thousands of you feel the need for this type of program by the mutual network which has responded to this need and by the hundreds of stars of state screen and radio who give so unselfishly of their time and talent to appear on our family theater stage to them and to you our humble thanks. This is Tony Lafranco expressing the wish of family theater that the blessings of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to be with us next week when family theater will present Flight to Bermuda starring Dorothy McGuire Charles Boyer will be your host. Join us won't you? Family theater is broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network. This is the mutual broadcasting system.