This is the most tragic week of my life. We are dying from hunger. I do not know how much longer we can hang on but we will battle to the end. We have run out of food, drink and energy. The wind was brushing against my face, it felt like a shark sinking its vicious teeth into my flesh. The white icy snow was falling into my dry mouth. We are all exhausted and devastated and we can’t walk any longer. Only three of us have survived.
First Evans fell down a deadly crevasse but we managed to pull him back up. He was very badly brain damaged. He was extremely disorientated and frostbitten all over. It was a catastrophe! I did make sure make he was okay but he insisted on carrying on. I wasn’t sure if he could. That night he died peacefully in the tent. We were all heartbroken at this wretched time but we were forced to leave him.
Later on in the journey there was a severe blizzard. If we laid one foot on the cold ice we would freeze to death. Poor Oates was getting weaker and weaker and he knew it too. He kept begging that we leave him, but I didn’t have the heart to do it. The raging blizzard was still going on and on. One night he went outside into the roaring blizzard and said “I’m just going out and may be some time”. We all knew what he meant, and no-one stopped him. We have not seen him since.
I do not think I can write much more, as my hands are too badly frostbitten. I feel terrible and it’s even worse not having the glory of winning the race.
P.S: For God’s sake look after our people.