A Dog With a Destiny (8 page)

On the way home, Bill’s main fear was concealing Smoky for the journey. This time, a gas mask bag came in handy and with some adaptation – zippered openings back and front – Smoky was able to practise going in and coming out of the bag to order. Bill wanted to take most of the show equipment back home too but the new barrack bags were not made with transporting circus equipment in mind. It was one bag per man and that was going to be difficult for some. Orders to depart came and went for Bill and Smoky but finally on 1 November 1946 it was their turn. Bill wrote home to say they were lining up for their last serving of army chow – it was quite a moment for the men and, if Smoky had realized the significance of the moment it would have been for her too, especially as all the meat she had known for the past two years was bully beef from a can. Getting to the US would mean a whole new life for Smoky and a new diet too. But first she had to get aboard the troop ship which was due to leave at 7 a.m. The excitement in the camp was almost tangible. Bill was understandably nervous – after all, army regulations stated, ‘No dog or mascot will go back to the US on a War Department ship.’ It was that clear. And it was the clarity that scared Bill the most. But he had a plan and Smoky had the routine in hand so he could not do any more. When the call to move out came at 3.30 a.m., Bill and Smoky were ready for their breakfast of pancakes and salty bacon before joining the horde of jolly GIs ready to board the collection of motor pool trucks waiting to take them to the Air Corps meeting point. From there they would change trucks for Inchon Harbour.

Bill spent the twenty-five-mile journey to the harbour worrying about Smoky. For weeks he had heard how some dogs had been ordered to stay behind and others thrown overboard when discovered on a troop ship. And she wasn’t the only mascot being smuggled out. The big dog, Duke, was with Shorty Randall, as Hembury did not have a home suitable for such a big pet. Another GI had a monkey in his ammo box. To help bolster Smoky’s case, Bill had a collection of photographs showing her visiting hospitals, with the men around the camp and entertaining the troops. Maybe all of this would allow this special dog to travel home in peace. Lining up to go aboard the landing barges, Bill handed his friend the bag with Smoky hiding inside. The man had hurt his back so could not carry his barrack bag but he could hold Smoky. She was wearing her specially adapted turtleneck jumper made from a sleeve so she would be warm for the journey. As the launches approached the troop ship
USS General W.M.H. Gordon
it dawned on them that they were really going home. Now was the moment of truth. He watched Randall stagger with Duke in his arms as they transferred from the launch. The officer in charge was shouting something but Bill could not hear what and feared the worst. Moments later, he saw the same officer gesture Randall to board the ship. Bill breathed a sigh of relief. All he needed now was for Smoky to stay still as his friend Piwarski took the bag through. Everything was going fine until Bill stumbled. He dropped one of the barrack bags but just about managed to trap it between his knees. Everyone was eager to get aboard and Bill was heckled to get a move on! The officer moved forward to help and in all the confusion Smoky came aboard without a hitch. The sleeping quarters were three decks down, so taking Smoky back from his friend, he went in search of the bunk furthest away from everyone and let Smoky out of her bag for a scamper on the bed. Few people knew Smoky was on board and Bill wanted to keep it that way until they were well out to sea. It took all night to load 5,000 men and their equipment.

Eventually they set off, the horn sounding their departure. Not far out to sea, the weather turned and the ship was tossed on the waves like a toy in a bath. Bill could not find his sea legs and for the next three days out of the twelve-day journey he was unable to eat or sleep. He heard that Randall had been summoned to the troop commander’s office and told to take his dog ashore. Fortunately, the ship’s captain was a dog lover and intervened before Randall was forced to carry out the orders. It turned out the crew had a few stowaway dogs stored safely below decks. Now Duke had joined the lucky ones. But it wasn’t all over for Bill and Smoky yet. The ship’s address system bellowed: ‘All men on board who have brought either dogs or monkeys, report to the ship’s office immediately.’ It seemed that their time was up and Bill felt too ill to put up a fight.

Five men stood before the troop commander. ‘No dogs and especially no monkeys go back on this ship,’ he said. These dogs had meant so much to their individual units that the men were not going to let this beat them. The troop commander had tried all he could to put the men off but it did not work. It just made the men more determined than ever.

By chance, Smoky was seen by a Navy lieutenant walking around below deck. He asked to see her master and then her papers. Surely this was the moment Bill and Smoky’s luck would finally run out. But no, with an agreement to pay the bond and to sign an oath stating that the
General Gordon
was cleared of any responsibility for the dog, they got away with it. It was a very lucky break as all the pet monkeys were put to sleep and only the dogs allowed to sail on.

The rest of the journey was more enjoyable than before and Bill felt well enough to put on the odd show or two to make the journey go much faster. Duke was allowed on deck every day and Smoky enjoyed scampering around with him as they had always been great friends. She would miss the big, old dog for sure. The
General Gordon
had been at sea for twelve days and, as they passed the islands of Puget Sound, they knew their journey was almost over. Local people brought out their tiny boats to meet the mighty ship that was bringing the troops home. The order came to disembark and Bill knew that he would be carrying Smoky off the ship this time and so reorganized his bags accordingly. His souvenir Japanese rifle and bayonet could go in the barrack bag and Smoky would once again be safe in the green bag with the straps and flaps. She knew her way around that one and its familiarity would be safe and comfortable. As the men queued up and through the ship, Bill reflected on the past two years and how a terrifying time had been made bearable only with the company of his little canine companion. As he strutted down the gangplank leaving behind the last piece of territory that linked him with the war, Bill was hit with the thought that he still did not know where Smoky had come from or how she had found herself in the New Guinea jungle and who had scripted the chain of incredible events that brought Bill into her life.

The
General Gordon
had brought them safely from Korea to Washington State to receive a heroes’ welcome. No one bothered them for paper or bag checks or anything other than to welcome them home. The GIs were loaded onto trucks and they sped through the streets of Tacoma and on to Fort Lewis. They were then sorted into sections suitable for their final destinations and assigned a bed in the US Army barracks. After two years on a cot in a tent, this felt like something approaching home comforts. There was fresh milk and steaks waiting for them and Smoky sampled a little of each before settling down on Bill’s bed for her first sleep in America.

The next morning there was a reunion with the rest of 26th Photo Recon who had travelled on an earlier but slower ship. The guys were pleased to see Smoky had made it through all the red tape and was destined for a home in peacetime. They were saddened to hear that Duke had not made it. Randall had lost the dog in Fort Lewis. No one knew the details but they did know that Randall was distraught, as one of the ‘men’ Duke had endured so much for so long. Bill looked to the sky and thanked whoever it was who was looking after Smoky. They knew they were the lucky ones.

The processing and the medical checks took four days to complete but at least the surroundings were pleasant and there was more fresh meat and milk for Smoky to enjoy. The troop trains had been waiting for them; Bill and Smoky were bound for Camp Atterbury, near Indianapolis, the closest separation centre to Ohio. Soldiers from all divisions of the Army came together on the trains: infantry, signal corps, the tank corps; they exchanged experiences and dreams for the future in a way that men feel they can only do in such extraordinary circumstances. For Bill, the future was clear. He was going home to Cleveland, to set a date to marry Margie. He had telephoned his mother with strict instructions not to tell Margie he was so close to home as he wanted to surprise her. Standing outside Margie’s front door, with Smoky under his arm, he knocked. Bill, tall, dark and handsome in his new olive drabs with Eisenhower jacket (his first new uniform in two years), opened the door and let Smoky into the living room. He heard Margie’s voice and could have cried. Smoky trotted up to Margie as if to say ‘hello’. They were home.

What followed for Smoky was a life of adoration, decoration and total showbiz. Once the press in Bill’s home town of Cleveland heard that he was back and with a hero war dog there was no stopping them printing all the stories they could about this little hero of the war in the Pacific. Just a week after arriving home, Smoky’s story was splashed across the front page:
Tiny Dog Home from the War!
It had stolen column inches from the news of General Yamashita’s death sentence. Many times over, Bill was to tell the story of how he had bought Smoky for the equivalent of six dollars, flown twelve combat missions in Catalinas between Biak, Borneo and the Philippines with Smoky beside him. How she had saved the airstrip on Luzon and how she had been a friend to all throughout their two years serving through to Okinawa and Korea. There were the awards too – Yank Magazine’s SWPA Mascot 1943 was just one of them.

Her special coat made from a green felt card table cover was bursting with medals. On the day they received their discharge papers, Bill not only received his civilian train money and mustering out pay, but he also received the due recognition of all who served as members of the 26th Photo Recon Squadron – the Asiatic Pacific campaign ribbon and eight battle stars, the Philippine Liberation Ribbon with Battle Star, the Victory Medal with Battle Star and the Good Conduct Medal. A Presidential Unit Citation Ribbon with Oak Leaf Cluster was accompanied by silver crewman wings. Smoky wore those too.

Arriving home to a place she had never known before, Smoky made good friends with the pets Bill had left at home: Lucky, a big, black and very intelligent cat and Toby his loyal dog. Bill was afraid that Toby would have forgotten him, but after a few puzzled looks and a quiet time just listening to Bill’s soft voice, it was as if he had never been away. They were old friends to Bill but new ones to Smoky and a new family for her too.

Smoky’s new career included more hospital visits and travelling around to give shows. Providing the same kind of therapy for the injured soldiers now back home was a great comfort and Bill’s pioneering work with Smoky as a therapy dog provided a good template for this as an activity in the US. Bill also returned to the orphanage at Palm-erdale to give a show and received loud applause. His visits showed the sincere and valuable connection between animals and their ability to heal.

Hollywood beckoned and as members of the Hollywood Animal Handlers’ Association Bill and Smoky made their big break on television in a programme called
Castles in the Air
which demonstrated Smoky’s fondness for dressing up. Bill got in on the act too with their dog and tramp act and the song,
Mr Pokie and his Dog called Smoky
.

Bill retired from show business in 1954 taking Smoky with him. They were tempted back for the
How to Train your Dog with Bill and Smoky
show, which ran for an extended thirty weeks in 1954.

Smoky died as all fireside heroes should, in the arms of his family. On 21 February 1957 Bill came home to find his ‘little pal lying on her side, asleep in death.’ It was agreed that she should be buried in a special place and there was none more special than a spot in Cleveland’s Metro Park under the tree on which Bill and Margie carved their initials in a heart one day in 1940. ‘Our tree’ was close to a clearing that Bill felt the perfect spot to lay Smoky to rest. Her tiny body, placed in a shoe box, was lowered carefully into the ground as the children wept over the loss of their little friend. Bill found it hard to hold back his own grief but knew he had to for his children. As he gathered stones to mark the grave, Bill thought of the times he had walked with Smoky in the New Guinea jungle and how they had entertained the troops bringing joy to a place that seemed incapable of witnessing laughter. This dog was a survivor. She was Smoky. The subject of six memorials in America all in praise of her huge bravery and unfathomable devotion.

Bill wrote, ‘After I lost my dog, Pal … I felt so heart-sick and vowed never again to get that close to anyone, animal or human, again. But Smoky, the little tyke who shared so much with me, who, unquestioning and courageously responded to my every command, had become my truest friend.’ (From
Yorkie Doodle Dandy
– by William A. Wynne)

Afterword

‘Nothing great is easy.’
Captain Matthew Webb was said to utter these words in 1875 after becoming the first person to swim the English Channel. If dogs could talk I’m sure those who have accompanied Servicemen and women into war would echo his sentiments. The focus and dedication any person or animal requires to survive adversity in any quantity can sometimes defy belief. Survival is often the prize for those prepared to go beyond the call of duty.

The partnership of Czech airman Václav Robert Bozděch and Antis, the Alsatian puppy he rescued from the ruins of a French farmhouse, extended beyond the conflict of WWII. Trapped by political intrigue in post-war Czechoslovakia, Bozděch was forced to flee his homeland to safeguard his family. He could take only one thing with him – the dog he had saved and who had flown at his feet in a Wellington bomber. Antis remained his only link with his old and new life and his friend and protector until death.

A dog can be one of the most entertaining distractions from the grim reality of war. And the chances of meeting such a loving and faithful companion when surrounded by fear and devastation must carry odds of millions to one. But luck was definitely on the side of a tiny Yorkshire terrier who somehow found herself in the centre of the war in the Pacific and then, miraculously, in the hands of US soldier, Bill Wynne. Smoky’s story could have been cut brutally short. But instead, thanks to her saviour, it was one of luck, survival, protection, heroism and lifelong devotion.

Not every dog is cut out for active service and most, like Tangye, fall into it because they like being close to soldiers. From the dog’s perspective, the relationship could be based on the quality of the rations and the fuss and attention handed out. From the soldiers’ side it’s because so many cannot bear to see a helpless creature become a victim of cruel circumstances or culture. And so it was that Tangye, a native Afghan pup, was rescued by British soldiers and taken to their hearts – and then taken home to the UK. His fearlessness in battle was rewarded with freedom. In another part of Afghanistan, Arms and Explosives search dog Treo was doing his part by locating deadly IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices) and saving hundreds of military and civilian lives.

War has always been fought between nations, and dogs have always been included in the ranks. As companion or protector, Service ‘equipment’ or mascot, the dog will always give more of itself that first meets the eye. A dog will always give you more than any person could promise in courage, loyalty and love. A dog will always give greatly and go beyond the call of duty.