Bonzo's War (38 page)

They were led by two rescue dogs walking beside their trainers. At the word of command the animals barked as they passed the royal dais. One, an Alsatian bitch, is
credited with having located 21 living people buried in air raid incidents, and wears a medal, the other, a brown and white collie dog, saved five persons in the same way.

Clever dogs! Peter, when presented to King George VI and Queen Elizabeth, became especially excited at Her Majesty's fox-fur stole.

In Colchester, Essex, a Mrs Winifred Airlie, a pet shop owner, was prosecuted for breaking the Waste of Food Order, seemingly the last case of its kind. She had been reported for feeding bread to non-humans – a number of tame mice, the keeping of which the prosecuting counsel found ‘impossible to understand'. Feeding mice was ‘morally offensive' Mr Proudfoot sternly pronounced. Mrs Airlie claimed ‘well-wishers posted bread through her letterbox so that she might feed her menagerie.' She was found guilty.

The end of war in the Far East and mass demobilization meant many happy reunions for returning servicemen with pets they had left behind. But Whitehall officialdom quailed at the prospect of a global zoo of adopted overseas pets also heading for British shores.

From far-off Burma came the report: ‘Never has there been such a diversity of livestock as is to be found to-day in the Fourteenth Army.' Along with bears, sheep, snakes parakeets, monkeys and Siamese cats, ‘Indian Army officers have brought Dachshunds, Bull Terriers, and Spaniels with them. Lieutenant-General Sun Li-jen, commanding the Chinese First Army, has an Alsatian called Mogaung and no fewer than six puppies.

‘Small monkeys are to be seen riding with the drivers of trucks. Nearly every unit has a little poultry farm of its own.' One such ‘farm', full of ducks and turkeys, had been
created in the back of a 15 cwt truck, whose driver was ‘anxious to take them back with him to Derbyshire when his term of service is up'.

But there was a way for servicemen to get pets home. A ‘Special Services Scheme' for the quarantine of pets began to be discussed between the War Office, Admiralty and Air Ministry, in autumn 1944, by which ‘a limited number of dogs' might be imported under special licence from the Army veterinary authorities. Quarantine facilities were to be created at a former airfield at Chilbolton Down, near Andover, with subsidized fees depending on rank (£20 for senior officers, £5 for other ranks) – ‘Commanding officers must be satisfied that the dog in question is a genuine pet.' Royal Army Veterinary Corps clearing stations for service pets were established at Antwerp and Milan. According to the history of the Corps: ‘The disposal of surplus horses and mules involved much work,
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but nothing gave more trouble than the repatriation of dogs, both the pets of returning soldiers and the hundreds of dogs loaned by the public for war service.' Not everyone was happy: dog columnist Huldine Violet Beamish expressed her ‘horror' in
Country Life
that servicemen should be allowed to bring ‘the various canine oddments collected in Europe and the Near East back to this country', to add to the already over-large mongrel population.

The Government scheme was terribly benign really, considering. But it was dogs only. Cats (‘and all other feline animals'), returning pet lovers would have to pay
for themselves. Swine, ungulates and anything more exotic were to stay out altogether.

The Royal Navy was presumably going to have to ship them all home. A sympathetic admiral noted, ‘I consider we should not forbid the use of HM ships, assuming that the dogs it is desired to land in this country may have been pets on board for some months.' They would however be limited to four per ship, confined to kennels on the upper deck, and, ‘be the responsibility of the ship's butcher'. An excellent arrangement!

In April, the RSPCA, not to be upstaged by the PDSA with their Dickin Medal, asked Brigadier George Kelly, the Army's chief vet, to supply details of the war careers of pets loaned by the public for the duration especially deserving of commendation so that they could be returned to their owners with ‘a collar and medallion'. The War Office said it had no such information but would endeavour to find out. It would be a little while in coming.

And so the commendations came in. Brian from Loughborough and Bing from Rochester, the two Alsatians that had parachuted into Ranville, Normandy on D-Day, were recommended ‘For Valour'. ‘Ricky', a Welsh Collie, had been wounded in the head while mine hunting by the Nederweert Canal in Holland but had carried on working.

‘Scamp' of Rock Ferry, Cheshire found twenty-five Schu mines in the same operation. ‘Raf', an Alsatian from Erdington, Birmingham, had been ‘blown up during the Ardennes push'. He was now recovered and working with a Corps of Military Police (CMP) Company. Brave dogs all!

Other dogs had been engaged guarding HM Government stores. There was ‘Blackie', an Alsatian from Maryhill, Glasgow, who had in July 1944 beaten off eight thieves attempting to burgle a clothing store. Blackie had
rendered invaluable assistance to his handler in pinioning the chief malefactor and ‘taking random bites at the other Italian civilians'.

‘Piggy', a Boxer employed by the military police in Cairo, had attacked four ‘native thieves' and lost an eye in the fray but had carried on devotedly. She had now recovered and returned to duty.

‘Snook', a Doberman Pinscher, had been blown up by a land mine in the Egyptian desert in pursuit of more native thieves but was now back on duty.

But how would these combat veterans take to civilian life? Would they remember their families, would their families remember them? The War Dog Training School had transported itself from Potters Bar, north London, to the Continent in late 1944 and was now set up in a former German Army tank range at Sennelager with a full complement of ATS kennel maids. Numbers of ex-Wehrmacht Schäferhunde swelled the ranks, along with sundry Belgian Bouviers de Flandres and Malinois liberated along the way. There were several marriages celebrated at the garrison church, with war dogs providing the guard of honour. It was noted: ‘Now that hostilities have ceased the War Office has no authority to hold these dogs. They have no further training but are handled and exercised to make them more amenable as pets on return to their owners.'

But would they be? ‘Brutus', a demobilised Alsatian from Syston, Leicestershire, met his master at the railway station after three years of war service, but ‘failed to recognise him', according to
The Dogs Bulletin
. But when he reached home ‘he recognised the voice of his mistress at once and was in transports of joy. With the two children aged five and two, he at once became a firm friend and playmate.'

Michael, the Burnell family's Golden Retriever, had been out of their lives for three years as a mine dog. Other than his handler, troops had been under strict orders not to make him a pet. A letter arrived asking if they would like him back. One day he appeared at the door with his handler. As Elizabeth Burnell told the story:

Michael, on hearing my mother's voice, broke free from his lead, shot through the gate and flew into the house and up the stairs to where my mother was standing. He jumped up, put his paws on her shoulders and licked her face as she started to cry with joy. He then came and sniffed all round us.

Of the twelve mine dogs who had gone to France, only eight came back. Michael was one of them.

The tales of heroic animals tumbled out, pounced on by an eager press. Jet, Beauty (the PDSA dog) and Irma all received the Dickin Medal on 12 January 1945, while Thorn was presented with his at the Civil Defence football match at Wembley on 2 March.

The civilian animal memorial that Maria Dickin had proposed was quietly forgotten. Who wanted to remember all that upsetting stuff? The PDSA's north London organiser, former concert singer Dorothea St Hill Bourne, published a book about hero war animals in 1947 and it was a huge hit. The same year, Jet and Judy, Dickin medalists, made fundraising appearances with the film actresses Jane Walsh and Norah Swinburne, ‘at various London West End stores and restaurants'. Edward Bridges Webb's populist agenda triumphed in the glow of victory. And why not? At least animals got a mention.

Little Rip, the Poplar star of 1940, got a medal, along with Rex and Peter, the MAP Alsatians of the V2 episode.
War dog ‘Rob', another parachuting dog, was awarded for bravery under fire and ‘Sheila', a Border Collie who rescued four US bomber crewmen from a crash in a snowstorm in December 1944 got the Dickin Medal.

Brian the parachuting dog had gone into action again in March 1945 during the Rhine crossing. Described by an RAVC major as an ‘obedient dog who responded to the words of command at once', he remained on military duty until April 1946. Brian returned to Britain, where he spent his time at the Chilbolton quarantine kennels – where it was noted he had a broken tooth and scarred leg. He went home in October 1946 and seemed to have adjusted readily enough to a less eventful life. On 26 April 1947, he was awarded the Dickin Medal in a special ceremony held in London.

Rifleman Khan, the hero of Walcheren, was also nominated by the battalion commander for the Dickin Medal, presented on 27 March 1945 at a full battalion parade. The citation read: ‘For rescuing Corporal Muldoon from drowning under heavy shellfire during the assault at Walcheren, November 1944, while serving with the 6th Cameronians.'

Corporal Muldoon wrote to the War Office asking to be allowed to keep Khan after the war ended. The Railton family also asked for their dog to be returned. The Alsatian was now that rare thing: a tug-of-love war pet.

Corporal Muldoon returned to civilian life in Scotland. Khan was in quarantine not far from his original home. Barry Railton, now twelve, visited Khan three times a week. At the end of six months, veteran Khan was returned to leafy Tolworth.

In August 1947, the plucky Alsatian was invited to participate in a War Dog Parade at Wembley Stadium. Harry Railton wrote to Muldoon via the War Office, asking
him to lead Khan in the parade. The Scot was overwhelmed at the thought of seeing Khan again – ‘Two hundred of the most intelligent, skilful dogs in Britain, including sixteen Dickin medallists, were to appear.' In a moving account of the big day:

Khan was one of a huge crowd of dogs milling around. Suddenly he stopped, lifted his head, his ears at the alert. He sniffed the air. His legs tensed. He jerked the leash from Mr. Railton's hand and bolted, a streak of fur, across the parade ground, barking loudly.

Ten thousand people in the viewing stand saw the joyful reunion of man and dog. Applause thundered as Muldoon and Khan took their places in the parade line. Afterwards Harry Railton searched out Muldoon in the crowd. He watched as Muldoon, tears bathing his cheeks, buried his head in the dog's fur. Sobbing, he held out the leash. Mr. Railton shook his head. ‘Barry and I talked it over during the parade,' he said. ‘Tell him, Barry.' ‘We think Khan belongs with you,' said Barry. ‘He is yours. Take him home.'

Faith, the church cat who tended her kittens in the 1940 Blitz, ‘could not be given a Dickin medal because she was a “civilian” and not with the armed forces or civil defence'. But, as it was said shortly afterwards, ‘Mrs. Dickin had been so impressed with Faith's bravery that she said she was going to have a special silver medal made and present it herself.' The Archbishop of Canterbury (not the one who three years previously had vetoed the wartime prayer for animals) was at the 12 October 1945 ceremony. It was recorded:

While the Archbishop held the cat, Mrs. Dickin read the citation from a parchment scroll, and presented the
medal, hanging it around Faith's neck. The Archbishop gave a brief address, and then everyone retired to the adjoining hall for a buffet lunch. The parishioners had saved their rations and all contributed to a splendid spread. Faith had a special plate of fish.

Faith's fish in fact broke the Waste of Food Order, which was still in force. The question of what to feed them would still test the ingenuity of pet owners. Offal and sausages, restricted since 1943, had come off ration but meat would remain state-restricted for almost a decade to come. Bread and potato rationing were yet to begin; dog biscuits were thin on the ground. Pets were getting impatient.

Fox hunting went through another austerity winter. In fact a MAFF official would admit in June 1945 that, when three years before rations for hounds and horses had been reduced, the ‘reason was largely political'. It made no difference to the real animal feedstuff resources. ‘The supply position is still very difficult', he noted; however, ‘anything which might create an impression otherwise is to be avoided.'

Horse & Hound
complained of seeing a ‘fine, fat fox waddling' out of a storm drain and there being nothing the hunt could do about it. The fox's fatness seemed a special irritant. The December 1944 article looked forward to a comeback of fox coverts that had been ploughed up or ‘absorbed into aerodromes'.

The first post-war edition of
Baily's Hunting Directory
mourned the casualties of war: ‘The Earl of Harrington, the Afonwy and Aberdeenshire harriers have been left without a hound. The entire pack of the Buckinghamshire Otterhounds has been dissolved. The Barrington, Brissenden and Wideford Beagles have ceased to exist.'

It noted gratefully how farmers had shown themselves ‘determined that hunting should continue with the gift of carcasses unfit for human consumption' to feed packs of hounds.

The post-war fox meanwhile showed his cunning in making ‘the most skilful use of dumps of rusting barbed wire and enclosed aerodromes'. The setbacks of the war were nothing compared with the much more serious threat – ‘the increasing momentum of anti blood-sport propaganda which is now a private member's Bill'. It would be defeated.

The animal charities took the coming of peace as the chance to return to their glum civil war. The RSPCA and the Canine Defence League refused to attend a grand conference in October 1945 called to address animal welfare politics.