Dog Diaries 07 - Stubby (3 page)

When the sun went down, the cold set in. There
was much less activity at the gates now. I found a spot and dug a shallow hole, where I curled up with my head in my tail, such as it was. I dreamt of chasing army trucks down endless roads. Where was my soldier boy? Was I ever going to find him? Had I come all this way for nothing?

In the morning, the new guard left and another came along—eating a fried-egg sandwich. My gut rumbled. I hadn’t had anything to eat since the chop suey. I made Sad Eyes at the sandwich and licked my chops. It worked like a charm. The guard ripped off a piece and tossed it to me. I licked my chops again and waited for more.

“You shouldn’t be here, dog,” he said. All the same, we shared the rest of the sandwich.

Later that afternoon, I picked up a couple of familiar scents. They belonged to Conroy’s buddies, who were out for a walk.

I barked loud enough to make myself heard.

“Hey, look,” the first one said, “it’s Conroy’s Dog!”

“I don’t believe it,” said the second.

They ran over to me.

“Well, I’ll be! What’s Conroy’s Dog doing out here?”

“Looking for Conroy, what do you think he’s doing?”

The guard said, “If you know who belongs to this mutt, tell him to please come get him.”

“Sure thing,” said the guys as they ran back to the camp.

And what do you know? A little while later, who should come walking toward the gate but my dear soldier boy—Conroy! He was a sight for my sore bug eyes. I got up on my hind legs and did a happy little bandy-legged bull terrier jig.

Conroy came through the gate and sank to his knees, laughing. “How did you find your way out here, boy?” he asked.

I fell all over him, licking his chin and buttery fingers.

He laughed and wiped his face on his sleeve. “You followed me, didn’t you? You really are one smart pooch.”

Then he said to the guard, “I’m pretty sure this dog ran away from his home in town. I’m going to bring him with me into camp. I’ll call his owners
and have them come get him, okay?”

“Okay, but make it snappy.”

Conroy picked me up and squeezed me under his coat. “I’m sticking my neck out for you, boy,” he said. “So keep still, and don’t make a sound.”

This was fine by me. It was very nice under his coat.

Suddenly, Conroy stopped walking. I peered out. We had come to a row of long wooden buildings.

“These are the barracks. This is where I live,” he said. He took me behind one of the buildings. “You stay here and be good. I’ll bring you some food. Then I’m going to have to figure out what to do with you.”

I stayed put. I was, like I said, a good dog. And sure enough, he came back with food and water. He served it to me in two tin bowls.

“Stay here, boy. I’ll be back in the morning,” said Conroy.

As darkness fell, I dug a shallow hole beneath a bush and got ready to curl up for the night. I was just drifting off, when I heard a horn blow. I jumped up and looked around. As the horn kept blowing, it struck me as the sweetest, saddest sound I had ever heard. I lifted my head and howled along with it. Inside the barracks, I heard the soldiers chuckling.

“That’s Conroy’s Dog,” someone said.

“He’s singing ‘Taps,’ ” another one said.

After that, all was quiet except for the peeping of the crickets.

The next morning, another horn roused me from a sound sleep. This one was much perkier than last night’s. I leapt to my feet and shook myself out.

Horns to go to sleep to. Horns to wake up to. These soldier boys were some horn-happy people!

I peered around the side of the barracks and saw a line of soldiers with towels around their necks, heading into a shack. They came out a few minutes later with their faces rubbed raw and their hair damp.

After a while, Conroy returned and brought me food.

“I’m off to combat drills,” he said. “You’re going to have to stay put here.”

Whatever combat drills were, I could do them. I sat up and looked lively.

“No. You can’t come,” he said. “Drills are noisy. You’d hurt your ears something fierce.”

Conroy showed up in the afternoon with more food. Then he left again.

Man, oh, man, I was bored! I had definitely not
signed up for this. Was this what being a pet was all about? Sitting around, waiting for your master to return? Maybe my street friends were right. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for sucker duty.

That afternoon, while Conroy was off drilling, I cased the joint, making sure no one saw me. Except for a few soldiers sitting around peeling potatoes, the camp was quiet and empty. Were all the others with Conroy? In the distance, I heard explosions, like a whole fleet of trucks backfiring at once. Was this the noise Conroy talked about that would hurt my ears? It didn’t sound all
that
loud to me.

When Conroy came with dinner that night, I had to work hard to show some enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry, boy,” he said before he left. “Hang in there. I’ve got a plan.”

Conroy came back after nightfall carrying a
blanket. He bundled me up in it. “You’re coming with me. I don’t feel right leaving you out here.”

He stood up with me cradled in his arms.

Awww, say, this is swell!

Inside the barracks were long lines of bunk beds and more soldier boys than I had ever seen. Some sat polishing their boots. Other guys lay on
the bunks. As we moved down the aisle, the young men all looked up at me.

“Whoa!” one of them said. “That’s the ugliest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s no baby,” said another man. “That’s Conroy’s Dog!”

“Conroy’s Dog! Conroy’s Dog!” they started to chant.

Awww, gee.
They were happy to see me!

But Conroy didn’t like it. “Pipe down, or Sarge will know something’s up,” he said. “He’ll blow a gasket if he sees I’ve got a dog in here.”

Conroy set me down, blanket and all, on the floor beneath his bunk. “This is where you’re going to sleep,” he said, “until I can figure out something better.”

Little old me? In my own dog bed? Conroy, you shouldn’t have!

“Try to be quiet. Remember, you’re not supposed to be here,” he said.

I squirmed with delight and gave his face a good-night lick. Then I burrowed deep into the blanket.

Just as it did the night before, the sad horn blew.

With an effort, I kept myself from opening my yap and howling.

And it was a good thing I did, because all around me, everyone got real quiet. They stopped what they were doing and climbed into their bunks. The next thing I knew, the lights went out. I was just settling in for forty winks, when the lights flashed back on.

I peered out from beneath the bunk. The biggest, scariest man I had ever seen had just burst through the door.

I’
M IN THE
A
RMY
N
OW
!

The Big Man looked around the barracks slowly, fists on hips. His eyes stopped when they got to Conroy. Then he came striding down the aisle and stopped in front of our bunk. My heart nearly thumped out of my chest. That was one BIG pair of spit-polished boots. I stuck my neck out just far enough to see the rest of him. My bug eyes bugged out, big-time. Everything about him was big: big legs, big arms, big hands, and a big, big red face.
He opened that big mouth of his and bellowed, “Atten-
TION!
”

Conroy leapt from his bunk and stood upright. He bent one arm and hit the side of his head with his hand.

Don’t hit yourself, Conroy,
I thought.
We’ll get through this somehow.

The Big Man put his face right up to Conroy’s. He spoke through bared teeth, like a mad dog. “What’s this I hear about a DOG in the barracks?” he growled.

“S-S-Sergeant, sir,” Conroy stuttered. “It’s true. There’s a dog underneath my bunk. I found him in town. He followed me here. He’s a stray.”

“Is that so?” the man said. He bent down low, and pretty soon I was eyeball to eyeball with the Big Man.

I wanted to scoot out of there with my tail between
my legs. But I was so scared I couldn’t move.

He screwed up his face. “What kind of a dog is this, Conroy?” he asked.

“Sir, I’m not sure, sir,” Conroy said, still standing tall. “Bull terrier? He’s not much to look at, sir, but he’s no trouble and he’s as smart as a whip.”

The Big Man straightened back up. “At ease, Private.”

Conroy sagged. The Big Man stared down at me, boot tapping, eyebrow raised.

“So,” he said to me, “you want to join the army, do you?”

I crawled out from underneath the bunk.

A feeble growl was all I could manage to squeeze past my lips.

“What’s your dog’s name, Conroy?” the Big Man asked, not taking his eyes off me.

Conroy muttered, “Er, um…”

“Speak up, Private! Dog’s got to have a name.” He narrowed his eyes, like he really
hated
it when a dog didn’t have a name.

“The fellows call him Conroy’s Dog,” said Conroy with a shy smile.

“THAT’S NO GOOD!” bellowed the Big Man. “A dog needs his
own
name.”

I looked up at Conroy eagerly. I knew I had to help him out of the fix he was in. I wagged my stub of a tail and hoped he’d catch on.

He stared at me, looking lost. Then suddenly, his eyes lit up. He raised a finger. “Stubby, sir!
See that little stub of a tail on him? I’m thinking his name is Stubby.”

“That’s more like it,” the Big Man said. He looked down at me. “Stubby, little fella, welcome to the army. Call me Sarge.”

—

I was dreaming about carrying a juicy T-bone steak down Main Street while all my pals looked on, licking their chops.
Eat your hearts out, gals,
I said as I settled down for a good, long gnaw.

Next thing I knew, that perky horn was blaring and my T-bone had disappeared into dreamland. Around me, I heard bed springs creaking and young men groaning. I crawled out from under Conroy’s bunk and shook myself hard.

Sarge appeared at the door, fists on hips, red face burning. “Up and at ’em!” he bellowed.

Some of the soldiers were already on their feet.
I scampered at Conroy’s heels as he padded out the door.