A Dog With a Destiny (3 page)

The more Smoky established herself in the camp, the higher her profile became and there were always jealous eyes on her. She was small and cute. She was friendly and talented. And, although there were other canine mascots adopted by the soldiers, Smoky stood out from the crowd. It seemed that keeping her close to him was the only way Bill could be sure she would remain safe. The risk of losing her was too great to take.

Smoky’s tricks became part of the daily entertainment in the camp, especially in the print room where Bill worked. Their impromptu shows were a welcome distraction from the pressure of the job and the fear that resulted from the random snippets of news they received about the status of the Japanese invasion and the war beyond their far-away section of the Pacific. Of course, news of Smoky’s talents spread beyond the confines of the 26th Camp and it didn’t take long for
Yank Down Under
magazine to track man and dog down. The magazine had launched a mascot competition and was keen for Bill to enter Smoky even though the squadron had already entered its existing mascot, a monkey called Colonel Turbo. At first, Bill was reluctant to take up the challenge. He could think of all the reasons why Smoky should not be entered into the competition but he was underestimating the 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 overnight but Smoky was cold all the time. Bill had to find her a coat. A hobby shop did not seem the obvious choice for someone looking for a dog’s coat but, as it happened, a green wool and felt cover for a card table provided the ideal solution. It had a beaded edge and was large enough to be fashioned into a warm coat that could also be used to display Smoky’s growing collection of campaign badges. One of the Red Cross volunteers offered her services as Smoky’s seam-stress and in no time at all she had made the coat and added the decorations that Bill provided: the 5th Air Force patch, the dog’s corporal’s stripes, the US insignia, a small brass propeller button (sewn onto all enlisted men’s blousons), the 26th Recon emblem, two ‘six month overseas’ bars, the Asian Pacific Ribbon and perhaps most precious of all, the Good Conduct Ribbon. The coat was complete and Smoky couldn’t wait to snuggle into its deep warmth. Bill was delighted with the result and the love and dedication that had gone into making it so special for his little dog. All this and eggs and steak for breakfast. What more could a little dog ask?

For this little dog, there was one thing she loved more than her new coat and that was an audience to entertain. Wherever Smoky went, the Red Cross nurses were quick to find Bill and ask if his dog could go along to visit the patients. Bill was always happy to oblige as he knew the magic of having the dog around to fuss and talk to and there would always be a few tricks to share with everyone. The 109th Fleet Naval hospital was the venue for their first show. The audience was made up of sailors and Marines who had been transferred to Australia because the climate was more conducive to healing their wounds. In the Tropics this was a long and unpredictable process that many did not survive. Looking at the men sitting in front of him, Bill recognized the misery of hospitalization etched on their faces. Surly nothing could break the cycle of fear and frustration these men were facing every day? Nothing, that is, until Smoky made her grand entrance. Once again just the presence of the little dog lit up the room and the faces of the people waiting to see her. Without any hesitation, Bill signalled to Smoky to ‘play dead’ and the show began. Everyone in all eight wards of the hospital enjoyed the show and every one of Smoky’s tricks but it was the chance to stroke and fuss her at the end that really gave the men a boost.

She followed this performance with a visit to the US 42nd General Army Hospital in Brisbane where she put on a show in twelve of the wards. Some of the patients followed her from ward to ward so they could see the show and meet Smoky several times over. She was a smash hit in every hospital and always followed the show-biz rule of leaving her audience wanting more.

As Bill’s recovery leave drew to an end, preparations were made to return him to his squadron. The 26th Photo Recon Squadron was destined for service on Biak Island and for Bill the fear was not of battle but whether Smoky would be allowed to go with him. There were rumours that the dreaded Scrub Typhus was causing devastation on the island but other dogs were there and so it had to be worth taking the chance with Smoky even if she had to be smuggled there. Biak Island was a coral battleground located just four degrees south of the Equator. The white coral landscape stretched for twenty-five miles and offered a bare and hostile environment to the US troops stationed there. The invading Japanese Army had inhabited the many caves that could be found all over the island but rumour had it that 5,000 of their soldiers were still holding ground all over Biak.

When 26th Photo Recon arrived on Biak, the US infantry patrol based there for the clean-up operation put a call out for volunteers. A first sergeant stepped forward for the experience with the idea that he would see what was required of these volunteers before others put their names down. After three days, he returned with first-hand reports of face-to-face encounters with enemy soldiers. He confirmed to the commanding officer, Captain McCullough, that to volunteer for this clean-up mission meant being prepared for combat. The soldier had six notches on his M1 Garand service rifle to prove that he had encountered the enemy and despatched them accordingly in the intensity of jungle warfare. It was clear to the captain that anyone who followed from the 26th would, like any other infantryman, be facing the same horror and he decided there would be no more volunteers from his squadron as they were too vital to lose. Every air recon crew risked their lives on every flight but the images they captured of the enemy’s position saved many thousands of lives. There were no more volunteer requests and the photo lab was soon pressed to working twenty-four-hour shifts developing thousands of negatives and tens of thousands of prints for distribution to the Allied Forces on land, in the air and at sea. The dedication of Bill’s team was recognized with its first Presidential Unit Citation for outstanding coverage of the Philippine Islands from 18–20 September 1944. At that time there were sixty-five men in the lab turning out 650,000 prints which were delivered to the 6th Army, the Air Corps, the Navy and the Australian Forces. Through these images the war in the Pacific was co-ordinated and fought.