Beyond the Call of Duty: Heart-warming stories of canine devotion and bravery. Isabel George

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СКАЧАТЬ enthusiasm of the dog’s fan base. Bill had to concede due to public demand and once he had done that he wanted the image they sent to the magazine to be perfect. Ideas fluttered into his head until his mind was buzzing with winning shots of Smoky as a military mascot. First he grabbed his helmet and put it on the ground. He knew Smoky would jump right in as she would be expecting a bath, and she loved baths. Bill took the shots himself and was very pleased with the results – Smoky looked so happy to be there and she adored being the centre of attention. But for the next idea, Bill was going to need some help.

      The idea was to photograph Smoky descending by parachute. A creative idea, but with one problem: they needed a parachute, or at least a part of one to make the shot believable. Everyone was keen for Smoky to win the competition and besides, it made a pleasant diversion from the other off-duty pastimes. Within no time at all a ‘find Smoky a parachute’ project team had formed with Bill at its helm. The first item called in was the pilot’s parachute which was quickly adapted to Smoky’s size and then a collection of belts were added to create a harness. Bill then took a little time out with Smoky to practise the swinging to-and-fro movements so she wouldn’t be spooked later on. In the meantime, it was agreed that the drop needed to be about thirty feet from a tree with Bill and a buddy ready to catch the dog in a GI blanket at the bottom. Branches were sawn off a nearby tree to accommodate the parachuting dog and in no time at all, Smoky was in Bill’s safe hands in the tree. The plan worked perfectly and the men knew they had the shots they wanted. Smoky seemed so happy as a parachute dog that they couldn’t resist doing it a few more times, just for fun. What the men hadn’t noticed was the slight breeze that had been so helpful up until now was growing stronger and with Smoky set for her final drop, the wind caught the chute, which collapsed and then swept the tiny ‘para’ off course. Free falling at speed, Smoky yelped in panic. She tried several times to correct herself and managed to land on her feet but then bounced twice leaving her on her back. Bill dashed to where Smoky was lying. He saw her little body lying limp and helpless on the ground and thought the worst. Why did I do that? Why did I carry on with the jumps when I had the shot I needed? Bill chastised himself for getting carried away with the whole parachuting dog idea. He knew he would never forgive himself if anything had happened to Smoky because of his sheer stupidity. Maybe it was a slight concussion? Maybe she just wanted to teach him a lesson in taking better care of her? Whatever it was, the moments (that seemed like hours to Bill) passed and finally the fear-ridden GI could feel Smoky’s body stir in his hands. She looked up at him, as much to say: ‘Hey you. What did you think you were playing at, buddy? No more games like that one, please.’ Bill heard every word and guilt swept over him. He vowed, there and then, not to abuse her trust in him again. She did everything he asked of her, even jumped out of a tree. But that was to be the last time.

      Of course, Smoky was perfectly capable of getting herself into scrapes singlehanded. Watching a game of softball has to be one of the safest activities no matter where you are, but maybe not if you are mistaken for the ball! Everything was fine while Smoky sat on Bill’s lap watching the game but suddenly she decided to join in the action on the field. Reaching third base, she caught the attention of the player who mistook her for the ball and scooped her up. He was all ready to throw to second base when he realized what was in his hand. Smoky had made a fantastic run but it was all about to end horribly. Bill’s frantic shouting and the realization of the players saved Smoky from a dash to the ground. It was a lesson to her to sit quietly next time.

      Sitting in the middle of a war zone, it’s easy to imagine how you might be hurt or injured but the jungle brings its own hidden dangers and mosquitoes are always a major problem in the Tropics. The drug Atrabine was part of the soldier’s protection against malaria and it was easy to spot anyone who was on a regular dosage due to the yellow tinge to their skin. When Bill fell ill with dengue fever, his only chance of recovery was a transfer to the 3rd Field Hospital in Nadzab. All front-line combat troops were treated here and Bill found himself surrounded by battle-weary servicemen. Bill’s war, so far, had only been touched by one aspect of the conflict and the invaluable part his reconnaissance squadron were playing; here in the hospital all victims of this particular theatre of war were assembled under one roof. Bill was in no state to judge where he was or what was going on but he knew that Smoky would be safe with his friend, Frank Petnilak, and that was all that mattered.

      After three days in hospital, Bill was allowed one visitor and it was someone he hadn’t expected to see at his bedside for some time: Smoky. She was not only allowed on the ward, but she was also allowed to sleep on Bill’s bed and it was agreed she could stay as long as necessary to help with his recovery. But Smoky was not the only delivery that day. With her came a copy of the latest issue of Yank Down Under announcing Smoky as Champion Mascot of the SWPA (South West Pacific Area). Everyone was hugely excited and Bill was so proud of his little dog. Bill’s image of her in his GI helmet had won her the competition. She was the heroine of the hospital.

      The Red Cross nurses were so taken with Smoky that they asked Bill if he would allow them to take her to visit other patients. Bill was delighted. He still remembers the look on the faces of the wounded when Smoky appeared on the ward: ‘It was as if the men had seen a vision. Perhaps because it was something so unexpected that they could not believe it: a look of half surprise and sheer delight. I never forgot the effect Smoky had on those men fresh from conflict. The picture stayed with me way beyond the war years. It was a little miracle.’ Even the most battle-worn combat soldier found a smile for the little dog with the big personality.

      During her stay, the nurses would often borrow Smoky and take her to see some of the wounded being brought in from Biak and Wakde Islands. Some had been wounded in mortar bomb attacks and were desperately ill but the sight of the little dog and her cheerful face lifted their spirits in a way medication never could.

      As Bill waited for the doctors to agree his discharge from hospital, he heard that his squadron was preparing to leave for action in Hollandia. There was also some news on Smoky’s identity: not how she came to be in the jungle in the first place but a definitive report on her breed. Bill took the copy of National Geographic that a colleague handed to him and read with interest a feature called: Dogs in Toyland. One of the pictures showed a dog that was the image of Smoky and it was captioned: ‘Yorkshire Terrier’. There it was in black and white. Bill avidly read the article and it was clear that his dog was an excellent example of the breed. He always knew she had breeding and class but this just proved it to everyone. Smoky was a Yorkie. But how a dog of such incredible breeding made it to New Guinea still remained a mystery.

      Bill had survived dengue fever, many others had not and as far as he was concerned, that was another miracle bestowed on him. He felt well enough to return to active service but the medics were not convinced and decided his recovery should be completed away from the war zone. So his reunion with Smoky coincided with being given a fifteen-day leave pass to Brisbane, Australia. Always fearful that Smoky would be confiscated by the authorities if she was discovered, Bill was careful to hide her and the hiding place this time was a musette bag, a small canvas kit bag with straps to fasten it. Bill taught her to stay still and quiet and she knew to do this as soon as he put her inside it. It was now August 1944 and hiding in the bag was a routine she was to perfect. Hitching a ride in a C-47 (a Gooney Bird) to Port Moresby was easy except the plane (capable of carrying 5,000 pounds cargo weight) was so over the limit that Bill and Smoky had to sit in with the pilot to redistribute some weight! The flight on to Townsville, near Brisbane, was uneventful but the temperature in the cockpit gave them an idea of how cold it was going to be on the ground. When they landed and were taken to their billet, Bill took one look at Smoky’s shivering body and asked for six blankets. He could tell they were going to need them. They were no longer in the Tropics and, although the heat was often stifling there, it was what they were used to. When they arrived, Smoky was shivering violently. Although they were missing the heat, there were a few things they could enjoy for the first time in eight months: fresh meat, for one and fresh milk for another.

      The cold was something Smoky was really not used to at all. She had been living in the heat of the jungle for most of her life … maybe all of her life. The blankets were fine for her naps and СКАЧАТЬ