Hell Is Above Us: The Epic Race to the Top of Fumu, the World's Tallest Mountain (20 page)

Wizzy gathered up her nerve and gave Hoyt an ultimatum: Stay with her, visit the boys at college regularly and stop climbing, or continue to climb and live without her. Hoyt did not see this as a choice. As much as he loved her – whatever “love” was to the William Hoyt of 1941 – he had to see this competition through to its conclusion, and the conclusion was so close. It was no longer about the love of climbing. In fact, he felt he was at a place in life where perhaps he could walk away from the Thrill of the Ascent. His body was certainly telling him to reign in; that the grid of New York City was not such a bad place to spend his time. No, it had nothing to do with climbing any more. To use his words from his Fumu journal, Hoyt said it had everything to do with “Vanity and Wrath.” “I sense there is a little Gluttony in there as well, but I would be hard-pressed to explain why without sounding like some effeminate, French poet. Yes, let us leave it at Vanity and Wrath.”

On the morning of May 22
^nd
, he planned to have a moving company take him and his unwieldy climbing equipment to the airport. He would then catch an airplane for the West Coast. Once there, he was to meet up with his team and his transportation to Burma at a beach in southern California. But before this series of events could transpire, Hoyt took the time to call his mother. He dialed from an empty house. His mother answered the phone. If there was anyone who Hoyt could tell about the secret of Fumu, about its unrivaled height, he could tell his mother. She may keep the secret, but even if she did not, no one would believe her. So Hoyt told her he was off to the Himalaya one more time for the purpose of conquering the tallest mountain in the world. According to Hoyt, Maddy replied in a manner so lucid he was momentarily convinced he was speaking to the wrong person. She was, in fact, painfully lucid. “I am so sorry I was not around to soften the blow of Father. I should have been around for you when you were a little boy.” Hoyt was not moved to tears by anything. Music. Death. No matter how emotional a situation, he remained as dry as fired clay. But at this sentence from his mother, he confessed to a pain in his throat. How would he have been different had she been available to him? Would he be less rigid? Would he be capable of joy? The possibilities were endless. Although he may not have felt this way, he quietly told his old mother it was quite alright and it was not her fault. Then she added a sentiment that simply embarrassed and confused William. “I should have nursed you. Then you would not be off doing these things.” She then mumbled something about the “damn Gypsies” controlling the weather and hung up. That would be the last time William and his mother would ever speak to each other.

Like Junk’s team, Hoyt and his men had to wait on the shore to be picked up by life boats. But in the case of Hoyt, the boats were manned by sailors from a ship captained by none other than Randolph Hoyt, William’s brother.

Randolph had served valiantly during World War One. He had been captain of the
U.S.S. Impaction
, a dreadnought-style battleship supporting the Royal Navy in the North Sea. In that capacity, he had received medals from both the United States and England for tirelessly assisting in keeping the German Navy at bay. Randolph retired from the Navy in 1931, but continued his life at sea as captain of a steam schooner called the
S.S. Auxesis
, mostly shipping lumber along the West Coast. It was April 1941 when Randolph was contacted by the U.S. Navy. They met with him behind closed doors at a naval base in San Diego. According to documents released by the military after the war had ended, the meeting had included Randolph and about six high-ranking officials. The officials sat on one side of the desk and Randolph on the other. They asked him if he was willing to carry out top secret activities for his country in the South Pacific that would keep the world safe for Democracy. With Europe and Asia at war and the United States on the brink, Randolph could think of nothing he would rather do than captain a merchant vessel. He had heard whispers and rumblings about the “Flying Tigers,” a team of American mercenaries stationed in Rangoon who were secretly aiding the Chinese in their aerial engagements against Japan. Supporting them was a thrilling possibility and Randolph was almost certain that would be his assignment. Even though the Curtiss P-40’s the Tigers flew were not manufactured in the States, he still envisioned that perhaps he would be shipping other supplies to them, like ammunition or food.

Alas, that did not turn out to be his assignment. “Captain Hoyt, have you ever heard of Operation Barrymore?” the commanders asked him. Randolph had not heard of it. The commanders went on to explain the details of the operation, one of the most unique but failed operations in American and Chinese military history. The plan, devised by General William Felcher and approved by President Roosevelt, was to put on a radio play for the enemy so convincing in its execution that the enemy would think it real and respond accordingly. Going under the assumption the enemy was listening in, all Chinese soldiers in charge of radio communications were to be given “parts” to play. These parts required them to intersperse their normal communications with occasional lines from a script written by a team of top American playwrights. The soldiers were also to be given acting lessons from Chinese
Xiangsheng
actors
,
American stage actors, and given direction from American directors (Although his involvement would make perfect sense after the infamy of “War of the Worlds,” it has never been confirmed whether Orson Welles took some supporting part in the operation. Welles has repeatedly and adamantly denied any involvement. Given that Operation Barrymore occurred during production of Citizen Kane, one has no reason to question Welles on the matter)
.
“One of our nation’s most successful exports is entertainment” explained the commanders. “We might as well use it to our military advantage.”

The “play” the Chinese soldiers were going to act out involved a natural disaster. During their coded communications about troop, ship, and airplane positions, the soldiers would pretend an earthquake had occurred somewhere off the coast of China. Then, moments later, they would act as if a tsunami of awesome magnitude was ravaging villages along the Chinese shoreline. Soldiers involved in the play who were along the coast in places like Shanghai would pretend to be drowned: screaming, gurgling, and then radio silence. If all went as planned, then the Japanese would be quick to evacuate their southern shores. This would leave them open to attack by air. The Chinese assisted by the Flying Tigers would then swoop in with a massive aerial assault on multiple targets, including naval ports, factories, and airfields in Nagasaki, the Ryukyu Islands, and Pusan in Japanese-occupied Korea.

“
We need a top-notch captain to get all of this American talent overseas. Can we count on you?” Discouraged by the nature of his cargo but ever the patriot, Randolph shook their hands and swore to keep the operation his secret. There was no dotted line to sign on because the military wanted no paper trail.

About one month later, Randolph was contacted by his brother. William explained he required a ship to India for himself and his team of five other men. Randolph could not believe the perfection of the request’s timing. Little else about the request was perfect. Picking up stowaways during a military mission was a major security breach. Randolph could get court marshaled if anyone found out. But such was the nature of their relationship; William had lorded over his brother since childhood, fathering him when Spalding Hoyt had not been around. Fighting back was not an option. William was larger and his temper was enough to keep anyone at bay. The two siblings were no different as adults. William Hoyt made a demand and Randolph followed it without question.

Randolph left from the naval base in Los Angeles on May 23
^rd
with ten writers, twenty-five actors, three directors and his crew of ten men on board. Before setting the course for Burma, he reluctantly ordered his crew to drop anchor off of Cameo Cove in Corona Del Mar so they could pick up some more individuals. The passengers and crew were likely confused by this deviation. According to Randolph’s ship log, he quelled their concerns by explaining the detour as “top secret.”

His explanation seemed to be enough to gain the crew’s acceptance. After all, it must have been very intriguing to be making a top secret rendezvous on an already top secret mission. They picked up William, his team, and their equipment at approximately seven o’clock at night. Randolph turned the bow of the
Auxesis
into the sunset and started the journey to Rangoon.

On the journey with William Hoyt were five men. Hoyt apparently had superior luck to Junk, finding mostly master climbers who happened to be in situations allowing them to walk away from their lives for one half of a year at a moment’s notice. First there was Sebastian Drake, a man who had climbed in the Himalaya more than any other person on either the Hoyt or Junk expeditions. On his list of adventures he could count Ama Dablam, Annapurna, Nanga Parbat, K2, and Everest. He had not reached the summit of any of them so his hunger for success was immense. He had no problem joining Hoyt for the expedition because his wife had passed on one year earlier and he had retired from General Motors the previous year. Being the company’s top scientist, he had retired a millionaire. Drake was a short, stocky man, standing only five feet two inches, but practically as wide. He wore spectacles no matter what the situation. He was a natural-born tinkerer and since retiring had already devised several new pieces of climbing equipment he felt would improve a man’s odds of vanquishing a mountain. The Fumu expedition provided him with a perfect opportunity to test his creations out in the field.

Also along for the journey was William Chatham, a Texas billionaire oil baron who hardly worked at all any more. He spent most of his time adventuring; one year in the Amazon rain forest, the next in the South Pole. Joining Hoyt was simply another item to add to his list of cocktail party topics. The old boy did enjoy his alcohol and palaver. Tall and handsome for a man of advanced age, with a tan complexion and a full head of bright white hair, Chatham would hold forth at any social gathering, recounting tales of mystery and daring do at the far corners of the Earth. Without exception he was the hero of the story. In one such tale, a fellow explorer is attacked by a conger eel along the Nile. It has swallowed the man’s arm up to the elbow. Chatham swoops in and administers a judo chop to the eel’s head. It dies instantly. The eel is now in his study acting as a pen holder.

The only issue with Chatham’s yarns was no one was ever around who could corroborate them. And more than once, he had fellow explorers sign off on documentation stating they would not tell their side of the story for ten years, making Chatham’s the sole account. He was able to get several book deals from this and also became a favourite subject for articles in National Geographic and Life. For the Fumu expedition, William Hoyt was confident Chatham would live up to his legend. Even if he did not and he was only one tenth the man he claimed to be, Hoyt would have a solid climber on his side. However, he would have to ignore Chatham’s personality as it was quite the opposite of his own and quite similar to Aaron Junk’s.

Hoyt rounded out his list of older, seasoned climbers with Oscar Wilde. Wilde had no relation to the infamous writer and was very quick to make that clear. In fact, he could not stand the writer, who he felt to be nothing more than a depraved, half-crazed libertine. Like Hoyt, Wilde was a reserved, fastidious man who felt speech is not like a case of cigarettes to be taken out and enjoyed whenever the mood strikes. Speech is more like a hammer, used only in very specific cases to perform specific tasks. These characteristics made Wilde a personal favorite of Hoyt’s. The man was gigantic; six foot five and thick. His neck had the girth of a broken carousel that did not make it all of the way around. His fingers looked like Italian meats hanging in a shop window on the Lower East Side of New York City. However, Wilde kept this large frame very still unless climbing, arms crossed while standing, or hands placed neatly on his thighs while sitting, as if posing for a family portrait. Wilde was a masterful climber, having climbed peaks on all seven continents. He was born into wealth which gave him as much time as he wanted to go off on his adventures.

Less experienced but by no means less able were Ramsey Thornton and Frederick Ferguson. These two last-minute additions to the team were brought in because, although young, they were both known as good climbers and they brought certain required expertise to the team. Referred to Hoyt by academic connections in New York City, Thornton was an assistant professor of linguistics at Columbia University, fluent in both Nepali and Tibetan. Luckily for Hoyt, Thornton happened to be on sabbatical that fall and had no problem joining the expedition to Fumu. He had no climbing experience whatsoever but he exhibited such a level of athleticism many found him off-putting, like being in the presence of a species whose actions mimicked humans but were subtly alien. He had almost gone to the Olympics for track and field in 1936 but chose not to go due to the death of both of his parents in an automobile accident. Hoyt felt such discipline of body, mind, and spirit were sufficient for the task at hand.