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The Dog that Saved My Life: Incredible true stories of canine loyalty beyond all bounds
Isabel George
Five incredible true stories of canine bravery in wartime.For as long as dogs have lived alongside man, they have saved their lives in wartime with their bravery, loyalty and companionship. From the WWII dog that was adopted by the Royal Navy as a mascot, torpedoed, shot at and registered as a prisoner of war, to the more recent heroics of explosives dog, Sadie, in the Afghanistan conflict where she saved hundreds of military and civilian lives, this is a collection of the most incredible and heartwarming accounts from around the world.Capturing the fear, uncertainly, determination and undying devotion of these amazing dogs and the young soldiers, sailors and airmen they befriended, these are truly inspirational tales of loyalty and companionship beyond all boundaries.



ISABEL GEORGE
The Dog that
Saved My Life
Sacrifice. Loyalty. Love beyond all bounds.









Contents
Cover (#ud7d9f9d5-8bd4-508b-b45e-e53cc0c4f530)
Title Page (#ubaaac5c8-b2ad-5596-97d0-446bfabfb330)
Dedication (#u62976ad5-805e-5cf5-af87-589c7f5ae22b)
Introduction (#u44903529-17d3-53d7-9e51-b39e942f298f)
Gander – Our Best Pal (#u3045fc16-1a51-57d8-8a2f-e12c038e5ef9)
Judy – Prisoner of War 81A Gloergoer, Medan (#u7618892b-e2bc-5b59-b198-7a041af1dd76)
Caesar – A Digger and a Dog (#litres_trial_promo)
Rats – Delta 777 (#litres_trial_promo)
Bonnie – DOG is GOD Spelt Backwards (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
To my children Luke, Lydia and Jamie…for their
encouragement and for never tiring of these
wonderful stories.

Introduction (#u7e558158-263f-519e-9c4a-a51ad90e3c5c)
It’s one of life’s little secrets, the bravery of animals in conflict.
Animals have accompanied man into battle since war was first waged. Over two thousand years ago Hannibal took war elephants, soldiers and supplies over the Alps. The giant animals negotiated narrow snow-covered mountain passes, risking life and limb to face the mighty Roman army. Centuries before that, the Ancient Egyptians recorded in their intricate paintings how they proceeded into battle with hundreds of horses pulling chariots, men holding hungry lions straining at the leash and falconers with trained hawks poised to do harm. The animals were there to play their part in the many military confrontations fought to secure supremacy.
Since those times, many stories have been told of the bears, camels, cats, dolphins, monkeys, mules, pigeons, rats and other creatures that have served with the Armed Forces during both world wars and beyond. Some were trained to perform specific tasks, like the dolphins deployed to detect underwater explosives, the pigeons released to deliver vital messages, mules laden with valuable supplies and rats sent running in tunnels to lay communication cables on the front line. Many others were present as mascots; the bears, cats and canaries were not trained to perform any role in particular but provided heartfelt companionship, warmth and humour, and helped create an incredible morale. Many animals have fulfilled this role, but perhaps none more universally and consistently than the dog.
The five stories featured in this book represent the devotion and unquestioning loyalty of the canine companion in the darkest days of war. From the life-saving actions of a Second World War Army mascot under fire to the undoubted trust shared between the Tracker dog and his handler during the war in Vietnam. Man’s best friend is a constant in an uncertain environment and a welcome friend. They are a testament to companionship and to partnership when lives depend on them.
Dogs continue to prove themselves to be fearlessly loyal in all theatres of war, from the hidden depths of jungle warfare in Vietnam and Malaya to the guard and patrol duties of a desert dog in Iraq or Afghanistan. Unlike the horses of the First World War dragged down in the mud of Flanders’ fields, the dog’s speed and agility has always made him an asset on any battlefield. Intelligent and obedient, the dog could be the perfect messenger, able to skip over the trenches or through a minefield faster than any man. Not only are they more successful at such tasks than a human but they, although it hurts to say it, are also far more dispensable. That has always been and will continue to be a fact of wartime life. If a dog detects a landmine he is unlikely to be harmed and his actions will protect all around him. A man is unlikely to be so lucky.
Whether dropped by parachute into enemy country, helicoptered in and out of war zones, or transported in armoured vehicles, dogs have shown their versatility in war. Dogs do what’s required of them and their keen sense of loyalty keeps them faithful to their duties and their military masters. Considering that the majority of the dogs recruited for service in both world wars were pet dogs donated for war service, their sacrifice was immeasurable. They were loaned to the War Office, trained for duty and distributed to the Armed Forces after 12 weeks’ training. The dogs then served their country, and if they survived they were returned to their owner. These dogs took this all in their stride and the lucky ones returned to life as a fireside pet in peacetime. But for every treasured family pet to be returned home safely, there were countless others who died alongside their comrades. And for all these canine heroes, there were young soldiers, sailors and airmen who had faced horror and death and who had seen those around them lost forever, who had taken immense comfort and support from these brave, devoted companions.
The war dog is not just a feature of conflicts past. Dogs are still used in contemporary warfare and have seen service in Bosnia, Kosovo, Iraq and Afghanistan. Guard and patrol dogs remain an essential element of life on any military base at home and overseas but the role of the Arms and Explosives Search dog is one that has recently come to the fore. Trained to detect and locate weapons, explosives and bomb-making equipment, these dogs are life-savers on a daily basis. They protect the life of their handler and save the lives of military and civilian personnel with each successful ‘find’. Dogs may still be listed as ‘equipment’ but no machine and no man can match the skill of a trained search dog. Wartime strategies and hardware may come and go but the skill of a war dog remains constant and irreplaceable.
Within the ranks, the war dog is regarded as nothing less than a fellow ‘soldier’, a colleague and a companion. Over the years Service dogs and mascot dogs have been decorated for their life-saving bravery in conflict. Many have lost their lives in saving others and their fellow soldiers have deemed it vital to recognize their incredible service and sacrifice to mankind.
For these animals to give so much when they are innocent in the ways of the world and war deserves recognition. These are just five stories of many, and all are awe inspiring and heart warming in equal measure. Maybe even the dogs would ask for them to be told, and they deserve to be remembered – for all time.

Gander – Our Best Pal (#u7e558158-263f-519e-9c4a-a51ad90e3c5c)
‘No two-legged soldier did his duty any better and none died more heroically than Sergeant Gander.’
(George MacDonnell, Hong Kong Veterans Association of Canada)

‘You know Pal, you’re quite a handful these days. If you get much bigger we are going to have to move house!’ Rod Hayden laughed as he hugged the huge, black Newfoundland dog and looked into his dewy brown eyes.
Pal drooled with pleasure as he slumped down onto his master’s feet. He couldn’t help being such a big dog; after all, Newfoundlands are built that way, their thick, shaggy, black coats being the perfect protection against the freezing chills of the cruel Canadian winters. Clearly Rod Hayden loved Pal and so did his son, Jack. The dog and the boy were so close that it was sometimes like having two boisterous children around the house with only one of them having a huge fur coat. Pal was adored by his family and by every child in the town of Gander, Newfoundland.
When the snow fell on Gander it fell hard and heavy. A good snowfall would block the doorway to the house and cover the roads so perfectly that they simply ceased to exist. In the worst of it, snow banks would rise higher than the roof-tops and venturing outdoors meant piling on as much clothing as it was possible to wear under an insulated top coat. But, for the children, the most exciting thing about the snow was sledding. And who was always around to join in the fun? Pal.
Pal, who was only two years old and already almost the size of a small pony, had given Rod Hayden an idea. A while back he had seen a set of pony reins hanging on a hook in the attic and now seemed a good time to put them to good use. He had no idea where they had come from nor how old they were. He had lived in the house over ten years and had never owned a pony or a trap. The rocky tracks that meandered off the main roads in Newfoundland were unsuitable for the small hooves of a pony or the delicate wheels of a cart. But wherever they had come from and however long they had been in that dusty box in the attic didn’t matter now. Rod knew exactly what he had to do and he knew that Jack and his friends would be so excited.
It didn’t take long to persuade Pal to try on the customized harness Rod had adapted from the pony bridle. The padded band designed to go over the pony’s broad muzzle was a perfect fit and the long, covered straps slipped comfortably around the dog’s body. The reins were short to suit a child’s small hands and Jack couldn’t wait to try them out.
Ten-year-old Jack watched his father attach Pal’s new harness to the sled and he could see the dog was just as keen as he was to get out into the snow. Pal had never worn anything like reins before. He had never even worn a dog lead, but this big, friendly giant was happy to do whatever Rod Hayden wanted him to and so, after what probably seemed like forever to the young Jack, the sled and Pal were ready. ‘Come on Pal, let’s go!’ said Jack, raising the reins as Pal lurched forward with the sled lumbering behind him.
By the time he reached his friend Eileen’s house, Jack was handling the reins with confidence and he was looking forward to showing her his clever dog in harness. But in the small community of Gander it didn’t take long for every child in walking distance of the Haydens’ house to hear that Pal was giving sled rides. Soon Eileen was just one of several children queuing up to take her turn to ‘drive’. Waving and shrieking with laughter, Jack and his friends dashed along and Pal pranced around like a show pony, his long pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. No one had ever seen anything like it before.
When he wasn’t playing in the snow or taking up space in the house, Pal found a new pastime as Gander became a focus for wartime activity.
Newfoundland Airport, as it was known, had been constructed in 1936 and two years later it boasted four paved, fully operational runways. Not only was it one of the world’s largest airbases at the time but by 1940 its geographical location made it one of the most strategically important. It was North America’s most eastern-based airport and therefore perfectly placed to be a refuelling depot for transatlantic flights, and it would also give pilots the greatest range for surveillance flights over the Western Atlantic. All the Allies had to do was secure it and protect it from a possible German attack.
In 1941, the Dominion of Newfoundland offered the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) operational control of the airport. Suddenly the town of Gander was no longer just a random collection of 10 houses, a one-roomed school and an airstrip surrounded by several shed-like buildings. The Second World War was about to transform this isolated town into a strategic military airbase and place at its hub the operational activities of the RCAF. Ferry Command, the organization responsible for transporting new aircraft across the Atlantic to supply the Allied forces fighting the war in Europe, constructed a base there. The Royal Canadian Navy also selected Gander as an ideal base for a radio transmission centre and a ‘listening post’ to pick up German U-boat radio transmissions to and from Germany. Any information that could help pinpoint the position of enemy U-boats was crucial at the time as the U-boats were proving to be devastatingly successful in the war at sea.
Initially a detachment from Canada’s Black Watch regiment was posted to Gander to defend the base from enemy attack. Later the Americans also sent troops. Gander had become too important a base to risk losing or incurring any damage from enemy activity. From then on, operating as Gander Airfield, the base came to life with more hangers, more equipment, more personnel, longer runways and additions like a laundry, a bakery and a hospital.
Rod Hayden, his wife and young son Jack were one of very few families living in Gander. Jack attended the local school with 13 other children, while his father, depot manager for the Shell Oil Company, was responsible for refuelling the aircraft bound for England. This had become a 24-hour programme of activity and it would have been a lonely job if it hadn’t been for Pal, Rod’s canine shadow.
The Hayden family home was adjacent to the runway and for an excitable dog with energy to release, this was just another playground. Running to meet the planes as they landed was something Pal loved to do before he dashed to the cockpit to sit with the crew. The dog wasn’t always a welcome visitor. But that didn’t bother Pal. There were so many planes and crews going in and out of Gander that he had plenty of chances to play his tricks on unsuspecting pilots.
Often, as the ground staff worked frantically to clear the runway of snow, Pal would wait patiently for the lights to appear, illuminating the landing strip. For him it was the sign that an aircraft was on its way in and he prepared himself to greet the crew. Severe weather conditions were always a challenge to a pilot’s concentration and a row of coloured lights stretching forward to welcome the aircraft out of a snow-filled sky was a reassuring sight. No one could afford to take chances. Lives were at risk. Pal’s unscheduled ‘welcomes’ could be too much of a surprise for many pilots, and quite often the control tower personnel would receive a message that there was a ‘bear on the runway’! The operators knew what they meant and replied, ‘No. That’s not a bear. That’s Pal. He’s a dog!’
Pal was a good name for this huge, friendly dog. He was everyone’s friend and in the spring of 1941 his list of friends grew overnight when a battalion of the Royal Rifles of Canada was posted to Gander Airfield for airfield protection and security duty.
As they lived on the airbase itself the soldiers became Pal’s neighbours and they happily shared their food – and even their beer – with him. They taught him tricks like how to stand on his back legs and put his paws on their shoulders. They encouraged him to take showers; which, being a Newfoundland dog, he loved. However no one ever tried to wake Pal when he decided to take a nap in one of the bunks. He hated being woken up and it was the only time he displayed irritation or anything like a bad temper. The men learned very quickly to ‘leave this sleeping dog to lie’ as long as he liked.
Pal was a happy dog. He liked people and people liked him. But his size sometimes made him clumsy and one day while he was out with the children on the sled, Pal jumped up to greet Eileen Chafe’s sister Joan and accidently scratched her face deeply. Pal knew immediately that he had done something wrong and he licked her hand to tell her he was sorry. Although the little girl wasn’t seriously hurt, Rod Hayden took it as a sign that Pal had outgrown his time as a children’s playmate and that, combined with his often dangerous antics at the airfield, made him decide to give Pal away at the first opportunity.
So it was that Pal moved from being a family pet to becoming a military mascot. He would even have his own bunk in the barracks with the Royal Rifles. Even Jack Hayden understood that the mascot idea was a perfect solution and, the next day, Pal moved in with his new friends. He settled into his new life very quickly but he still enjoyed daily visits from the local children, and especially Jack, who missed his dog very much.
Outside of the world of Gander Airfield the war was well advanced and the soldiers sensed they might be posted overseas any day. But there was something they had to do before they left. Their mascot dog was so much a part of the place where they were stationed that the men decided to give Pal a new name that would always be a reminder of home. They decided to call their soldier dog – Gander.
Just days later the men received the news they had been expecting. They were to leave immediately: Destination – unknown.
By October 1941 the Second World War was moving into its third year and Adolf Hitler’s Germany was achieving far-flung military success and extending its power. The Führer’s indomitable general, Erwin Rommel, had the desert campaign in North Africa well under the German Army’s control. At sea, German U-boats continued to threaten British merchant shipping bringing vital supplies across the Atlantic and on land the German Army, motivated and encouraged by repeated military success, was marching across Europe, effortlessly overcoming all opposition. In that month almost all of Western Europe and much of Soviet Russia was under the military heel of Germany and its Nazi leaders.
Germany’s ever-tightening grip on Europe cast an ominous shadow over a free Britain. Only his obsession with completing the invasion of Russia could divert Hitler’s attention away from the final unconquered parts of the Continent as he prepared to march his army to the very gates of Moscow. He appeared to be ruling supreme, his armies were unstoppable and unconquerable, and the rest of the world seemed to have been reduced to a crowd of powerless and quivering spectators.
Japan, however, had its own ambitions. As Hitler’s divisions powered their way across Europe, Emperor Hirohito was not so secretly strengthening Japanese forces on land, at sea and in the air. The Japanese High Command had designs on British and Dutch territorial and mineral possessions in South East Asia, and bloody battle was clearly imminent. China was already into its fourth year of occupation and continuing battle with the Emperor’s invasion forces. If the British were not quick enough to substantially and meaningfully reinforce their Hong Kong territory with defensive forces, Japan would add Hong Kong to its list of conquests too.
Hong Kong was a thriving British colony, representing not only an economic jewel in the crown of British trading interests but also the pinnacle of British military power in the Far East. The Japanese War Cabinet had long been aware of Hong Kong’s strategic importance to their war of conquest. The Commonwealth troops already based there represented little more than a token security presence. These soldiers might have been enough to reassure the diplomatic staff and the loyal residents living and working in Hong Kong but it was nowhere near what was required to hold off the might of a battle-hardened and proven invasion force. Despite dire warnings from some of his military and political advisers, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill focused on the battles and reverses in the Mediterranean theatre and in the air and sea at home. He had been reluctant, until that point, to send a significant force to Hong Kong. But things were changing rapidly.
Within days of receiving the order to leave their barracks near Gander Airfield, the Royal Rifles were packed and ready to move out. They had been issued with their tropical kit but had not been given a briefing on what lay ahead. There was even speculation that they might be going to North Africa. For now there was one certainty: they were taking Gander with them. It was a tall order to hide a Newfoundland dog that was almost as tall as a Shetland pony and weighed as much as a fully grown man. ‘I think you’ve gone crazy,’ said one of the civilians on the camp. ‘How on earth are you going to hide that dog? You know what will happen if he’s caught, don’t you? They’ll throw him overboard if you’re at sea and if you’re on the train he’ll be put out at the next station. Then what’ll happen to him? I think you’re crazy and I think the dog needs to stay here in Gander.’
It was a brave speech but the well-meaning man was wasting his breath. He was challenging the Royal Rifles of Canada and he should have known better. Besides, who relished the idea of telling Fred Kelly, Gander’s partner, that the dog wasn’t going with them? That night the men called a meeting in the barracks. It was agreed that Fred would kick off with a request for a show of hands. They needed to know that they would have the support and co-operation of all the men if Gander was to leave with them. It took under five minutes for Fred to finish his speech and gain a unanimous vote of support. The dog was going with them. From that meeting a subcommittee of six people was formed. These were the people who would be Gander’s closest companions and the ones directly responsible for his health and welfare. If there were any major decisions to be made, these men would make them. If there was any blame to take, these men would take it. The Royal Rifles of Canada were well aware that pets and mascots were not allowed to be taken on military duty into operational areas. This was an accepted fact in the military. If they were caught there would be severe consequences. This too was accepted.
The priority was to prepare Gander for the journey. If the posting was, as they guessed, to the Far East, it would mean hiding their huge mascot dog during a train journey that would take them several thousand miles across Canada, and on a troopship that would spend many weeks at sea. There was also the problem of rations on the journey. There was only one thing to do that would protect the dog in any semi-official way: using official and unofficial influences in the military system, Gander would have to be listed as a soldier. One of the men. A sergeant. Gander of the Royal Rifles. Not only would he be on the ration strength he would also have a rank that would appear on all the transport-movement papers.
‘Sergeant’ Gander was issued with his own kitbag too. It contained all he needed for a comfortable journey and protection in battle: a special dog brush, a towel, soap, water and food bowls, a towel and everything a dog might need were gathered together. Gander was assigned a seat on the train and all the men had to do was make sure their dog was neither seen nor heard by the officers. If he was discovered it was almost inevitable that the men would be ordered to leave him behind or if they were at sea he could be thrown overboard. No one was going to let their friend down.
In charge of the rather hairy recruit was Rifleman Fred Kelly. Kelly had been a dog lover all his life and from the moment Fred set his eyes on Gander it was clear to everyone that it was a perfect partnership. A soldier at the age of just 19 Fred knew more about dogs than he did about fighting but he was proud of his country and ready to do what was expected of him. The men had very little training so for Fred and his fellow Royal Rifles there was a huge fear of the unknown. For all the men, Gander became a welcome distraction from the uncertainty that plagued them day and night. At least Fred had Gander to fill his thoughts and the dog’s care to structure parts of his day. Gander needed his food and needed to be groomed, otherwise his huge fur coat would get matted and the discomfort might cause problems. An unhappy dog was not going to make for a silent travelling partner.
In some respects the partnership of Fred Kelly and Gander was something of a physical mismatch. Fred was not a tall man, but Gander was a very large dog so when they stood or sat together it was sometimes difficult to see where the great woolly dog ended and the small-framed man in uniform began. For the journey that lay ahead of them, this was to prove a useful element of camouflage. The men knew that if Gander was found they would never see him again.
Quebec, the home of the Royal Rifles of Canada, was proud of its sons in uniform. Mobilized in July 1940, the regiment drew most of its recruits from Eastern Quebec and Western New Brunswick, which made it an English-speaking unit, with a quarter of the recruits being bi-lingual French. Quebec City welcomed the men ‘home’ and arranged a parade in their honour. It was an occasion to salute the 962 men and one dog who were about to fight for their country overseas. Each man marched straight and tall behind the distinctive figures of Gander and Corporal Kelly, who led the parade. The band played and people waved their handkerchiefs and their hats to cheer the men and their faithful mascot on their way. Smoke billowed from the train awaiting the soldiers’ arrival at Valcartier station as it made ready to take the troops closer to their war. But it was only right that after the marching, Gander should take a shower. Somehow Fred managed to locate one and the hot dog was able to enjoy his last shower for a good while.
Smoke from the train swirled around as the guards and officers mingled with civilians and soldiers on the busy platform. Fred Kelly and his friends viewed the situation and tried not to look as nervous as they felt. The officers were on the look out for deserters or anyone trying to smuggle an animal mascot aboard. If only Gander had been a monkey or a kitten or something smaller than a full-grown Newfoundland dog, hiding him would have been easier. But the men were just about to discover that their dog was the most obedient creature on earth, and the cunning plan they had hatched in the relative security of Gander Airfield was about to be put to the test.
Within seconds of marching into the station the men were lining up to board the train. Fred Kelly tightened his grip on Gander’s leash as the rest of the detachment mingled to shield the dog from view. Gander wasn’t used to crowds like this and Fred could sense the big dog’s unease. All the time they were hoping no one would look down and see four hairy black paws on the ground.
Roll call sent shivers down Fred Kelly’s spine. But he need not have worried. It was to go just as they had practised. Whenever Sergeant Gander’s name was called, Fred piped up ‘Sir!’ and two of his friends started a scuffle to distract the officers while the dog was bundled onto the train. The plan worked perfectly! Now all they had to do was find their seats before any official took a backwards glance to double-check the large fur-coated recruit with the lumbering walk.
Although Sergeant Gander had a seat on the train, Fred decided to err on the side of caution and kept Gander lying on the floor for the time being. The dog was used to the floor; if he couldn’t get a bunk he would lie quietly at his master’s feet. The noise and bustle of the officers and men of the Royal Rifles of Canada and the 911 Winnipeg Grenadiers who boarded the train were enough to disguise the sound of the mascot dog’s heavy panting. But from this point on, the men had one thought – making sure their mascot stayed with them all the way. Fred Kelly’s caring approach and the tone of his voice saying, ‘That’s it, Gander old chum…quiet now…good boy…’ reassured the big dog that he was in safe hands.
The train was scheduled to stop in Ottawa, its third stop on the journey to Vancouver on the west coast. Brigadier Lawson, a veteran of the First World War, stationed in Canada’s capital and a career soldier, was to board the train as commander of ‘C’ Force – the newly created fighting force comprising the Winnipeg Grenadiers, the Royal Rifles of Canada, attached military support personnel and one mascot dog called Gander.
It was a three-day train journey and Gander was the perfect travelling companion. There was not an awful lot for a dog to do on a train and the men were afraid Gander would get bored and noisy and blow his cover but, as always, the fears can be greater than the reality. While the men played cards or disappeared into their own worlds to write letters to loved ones, Gander stayed with them. Sometimes he chose a lap to lie on or, if someone left their seat for too long, he would stretch out and fall asleep for a while or at least until the rightful owner gave Gander a gentle nudge to leave. No one minded Gander plonking his big slobbering jaws on their lap. If he decided you were going to be the play partner for the day it was best to give into it because he would never let a soldier have any peace until they had played at least one game of tug of war with a sock. The most difficult part about having Gander along for the ride was the impossibility of taking him for walks. Gander was very patient but he was a big dog and it wasn’t good to keep him cooped up in the train, but the men had no choice. They had come this far, so they made sure that Gander had long play sessions with improvised toys and a huge amount of tickles and play fights. Unable to enjoy his favourite thing of all, a shower, Fred ensured that he was washed down and that he had long grooming sessions too. Toileting was difficult for Gander because at almost three years old he was used to looking after himself. This was like puppy training all over again. The good thing was, Fred Kelly was used to dogs and had the inbuilt patience to coach Gander through the necessary paces. He also had to have everyone else’s support to make it work and in case of ‘accidents’. Fred created a toilet area for Gander in one of the washrooms. After a few days it was clear what he needed to perform and when, so Fred accompanied the dog and dealt with it all. It was rare that anyone else had anything to do as Gander was very ‘regular’ and Fred was never far away. If there was the odd accident the men knew what to do.
But another challenge lay ahead. Arriving in Vancouver on 28 October the men found the troopships, the HMNZS Awatea and HMCS Prince Robert, docked and waiting for them to embark. Before the war the massive and majestic Awatea, a converted luxury liner, had run between her home in New Zealand and Canada. Now her state rooms accommodated the officers while the men, the majority of them Winnipeg Grenadiers, slung their hammocks in every available space, even above the mess tables. The remainder of ‘C’ Force, the Royal Rifles of Canada, boarded the HMCS Prince Robert, the escort vessel, and Gander was amongst them.
The dockhands were busy loading the crates of supplies and ammunition, and the area was heaving with the hustle and bustle of dockyard activity. It was just the kind of chaos the men needed. Who was going to notice one dog in a muddled crowd like that? They just needed to get Sergeant Gander through one more roll call and they would soon be on the open sea.
As the men boarded the HMCS Prince Robert, they gathered to hide Gander as best they could. Just as before, they walked very closely together, Gander between them, and marched up to the gangplank. The stevedores noticed the dog, however, and refused to allow ‘the bear’ onto the boat. The regimental officers agreed but the men howled in protest when it was discovered that one of the officers had been allowed to take his small pet dog. The men pointed out that Gander was simply a large dog, so the authorities relented and Gander boarded the ship. They were home and dry! Gander was as exhausted as the men, who still had to hang their hammocks before they could rest. Gander couldn’t wait for such a luxury. After nudging his head against some of his friends, by way of maybe saying ‘thank you’, he slumped down onto the cabin floor and fell fast asleep. No one was going to move that huge slumbering dog, even though he was right in the middle of the accommodation area. So, they covered him with a blanket and left him in peace.
Several hours later Gander bolted out of his sleep to find that he was surrounded by his soldier friends. It was another new environment and he seemed somewhat unsteady on his feet as the ship rolled and swayed a little in the water. Fred was quick to move to give the dog a hug and say, ‘It’s all right Gander. You’re on a troopship and, like the rest of us buddy, you’re on your way to war.’ The men had guessed before the official announcement was made that they were bound for the Far East. Departing from Vancouver had been the biggest clue and now they were about four weeks from entering a war zone.
The entire regiment and now the crew of the Prince Robert knew the dog was onboard, so it was decided to allow Gander to enjoy the freedom of the ship at last. But how best to do that? Fred suggested that Gander make his entrance the next morning away from land; the thought of another long, uneventful day ahead would be brightened when the soldiers saw Gander. And so as the men finished their breakfast next morn ing Fred chose his moment to release Gander, when the men were chatting and finishing the dregs of their coffee. The big dog trotted into the mess area and immediately picked on a few of the men to brush up to and plant his great web-footed paws on! It was a great moment for all the men to see their mascot looking so fit and healthy and full of fun. He was the morale boost they needed at this stage of their journey. He ‘rough and tumbled’ with them and slobbered on them, commandeered their hammocks for a sleep and begged anything they cared to give him from their meagre rations. Gander was on the way to war amongst the men he loved and they, in return, loved him for it!
It was hot and uncomfortable in the cramped quarters of the HMCS Prince Robert. Gander probably felt it most of all and there was little that Fred Kelly could do to cool the big dog down, especially as there was a shortage of water on board and they needed every drop for drinking. The dog was now the most popular soldier aboard and his fellow soldiers did what they could to help him settle. But when his panting got bad all he could do was find a breezy companionway to lie in. The men knew if they saw Gander lying down it was a cool spot and they would often join him.
It was going to take four weeks for the troopships to reach the island of Hong Kong. It was a long journey but Gander was good company and a happy distraction for the men. Many were very young, some just 16 years old and away from home for the first time. All of them were proud to be fighting for their country and for freedom, but at the same time terrified of what lay ahead. For now they were on a voyage where the hours were filled with playing card games and any kind of activity to distract everyone from the smothering heat and the rolling of the ship. Conditions were the same on both troopships but it was fortunate that Gander was on the smaller vessel as there were fewer bodies around and it was possible to find a space away from every other hot person on board. Now that he was able to walk the ship freely, it was a great relief to the men who had sheltered him for so long and a bigger relief for Gander. It meant that Gander could perform another duty on the ship, that of ship’s comforter. Being in the presence of such a young crew, Gander was with men who were afraid they might never see home again. Many of them had never travelled outside their home towns in Canada; now they were heading for part of a country that they knew nothing about, and which did not share their culture or their way of thinking. They might fight an enemy on this foreign battlefield and perhaps that is where they would fight and die. So it was that Gander became a great comfort to the men of the Royal Rifles just by being around them. He reminded many soldiers of their dogs back home and provided that vital psychological link to the memory of home comforts, of a dog stretched out on the family hearth.
At sea, with no sighting of another ship for days, news of the world beyond the troopships gave the soldiers a glimpse of what was going to face them in Hong Kong. Tensions ran high in the confines of the ship as news of world conflict and worrying developments at their destination reached them. Soon they had their first glimpse of land since hitting the open sea. The view was dim and hazy but behind the cloudbank lay the craggy coastline of the Philippines. During the journey one of the men had become ill and died in the early hours. In the mists of morning the men gathered on the deck for a service that ended with a burial at sea. Later that same day, they reached Manila harbour. American fighter planes patrolled the skies, protecting US warships docked in readiness for an order to defend US interests in the event of an outbreak of hostilities and to engage any Japanese invaders. It was a sobering sight seeing so much hardware ready and waiting to be used in the event of war. The troopships Awatea and Prince Robert looked small and insignificant alongside the grey giants of the US Navy. Rising up out of the water like menacing sea monsters, they boosted the confidence of the Canadian soldiers looking on. Just seeing them ready and waiting was a strange comfort to the young men. Taking on oil and water, the troopships sailed out, giving the men one last view of the mountain peaks shrouded in cloud. Forty-eight hours later the men had been issued with their rifles and steel helmets and were preparing to disembark at what was to be their last port of call for a long time.
As dawn broke on 16 November 1941, the Awatea and the Prince Rupert rolled in the swell of the South China Sea as the men of ‘C’ Force, accompanied by two nursing sisters and several personnel from Brigade Headquarters, caught sight of the Hong Kong shoreline. As they stood on deck watching the activity ashore, everyone remembered and understood why, for several days, they had been drilling, exercising and familiarizing themselves with the equipment. There had been no time for card games of late. The Bren guns had been unpacked and training had begun. Dismantling, assembling, loading, firing, cleaning and caring for their guns and rifles were drilled into the young soldiers. Drilled in because their lives, very definitely, were going to depend on it.
Just the sight of dry land was a relief to everyone aboard, and Fred thought Gander must have felt it too. Sitting at Fred’s feet he looked excited and kept looking back to Fred, perhaps asking, ‘Are we there now? Is this where I can smell the grass again and have a shower and a beer?’ Even with the sting of saltwater still on his face and its taste on his tongue, he seemed happy to see other ships and other signs of life beyond the confines of the Prince Rupert. Feeling the dog straining at the leash, Fred would probably have said, ‘Calm down now Gander, it won’t be long until you can get off this ship and sleep in a proper bed. You must not get too excited now. We still have things to do to keep you safe.’
As Fred accompanied Gander down the gangplank and onto the dockside he could feel the leash pull even harder. Gander had sensed freedom and it felt to Fred as if he was going to make a dash for it. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t afford to happen now, it was for Gander to break loose on the dockside. The mayhem it would cause would draw unnecessary attention to the dog and, after all they had been through, they were not going to let that happen. Also, if Gander dashed off now he would not have a clue where he was and there would be no time to locate him. Fred gripped the dog’s leash lower and stronger. He had already read the dog’s mind. He could tell that, to Gander, the expanse of water between the ship and the dockside must have looked like a giant bath. And Gander, who had really missed his showers and baths over the past months, just might take a dive. ‘Hey, don’t go thinking that water is a bath for you Gander,’ said Fred, who grabbed the dog tightly and pulled him back from the edge of the dock. He couldn’t help chuckling at the cheekiness of the big dog, who often acted like a mischievous child! ‘Buddy, if you could read the signs in the harbour telling of the cholera in there you would think twice about jumping in the water! Don’t worry, we’ll soon have you washed down and spruced up when we get to the barracks.’
The entire population of Kowloon turned out to greet the soldiers. And as he watched the sea of Union Jacks fluttering and heard the crowd cheering, Gander lifted his head and trotted proudly, in Fred’s capable hands, to take his place at the head of the Royal Rifles. It was a real carnival atmosphere as the residents of Hong Kong turned out to welcome the soldiers to the city. A pipe band from the Royal Scots Guards garrison was there to meet the troopships and lead the parade with Gander and the rest of ‘C’ Force proudly marching on dry land for the first time in four weeks. It was a proud moment for the men and their mascot dog. Gander was receiving lots of attention, especially from the children in the crowd. Fred heard later that a lot of the women and children through Gander was a bear so they held back at first, not knowing if he might eat them rather than lick them. Once they realized the big, hairy mascot was a mild-mannered dog they flocked to stroke and make friends with him. It had been some time since Gander had enjoyed the playful attention of children and he hadn’t forgotten how to be gentle with them or how to have fun.
The parade would take the men to Sham Shui Po Barracks, which were to be the new home and training ground for ‘C’ Force. The dazzling white of the barrack buildings and the lushness of the oriental gardens were a welcome sight to the men who, for several weeks, had only seen the gloomy interior of the troopship. It didn’t take long for Gander to sniff out the showers and remind Fred of his promise of a cooling wash. It was a promise Fred was happy to keep for his friend, who had already taken to lying on the cold shower-room floor to escape the sticky heat. Through the weeks of travelling the men had dreamed of swapping their hammocks for beds and here the relative comfort of a barrack cot caused great excitement. True to form, the men held back while Gander chose the bed he wanted and then everyone else made their choice from what was left. It was a good way to start but everyone knew that Gander would, in the end, make every bed his own and he was just too big to argue with!
Life within Sham Shui Po Barracks was more than comfortable and the local Chinese population were happy to shine shoes, make beds and run errands for a chance to earn a few Canadian dollars. (A boy who earned two dollars a week would be considered a ‘millionaire’.) The arrival of the Canadians was good for the local economy and for morale. No one really believed the Japanese would have the audacity to invade this Crown Colony but they felt safer, all the same, to have the increased military presence. What the locals probably didn’t realize was that in terms of numbers and equipment the island was still poorly defended. On paper there were now over 14,500 military personnel on the ground but this figure included several senior nursing staff, St John Ambulance representatives and the Hong Kong Mule Corps. When Kowloon welcomed the Royal Rifles and the Winnipeg Grenadiers the sight of the men in uniform reinforced the notion that Hong Kong was immune to invasion.
To a large extent, the life of the native people carried on as normal. It was the cool season and the mud flats close to the garrison were a hive of industry, with locals digging for clams. In the town their daily working lives continued, and the lively nightlife of theatres and bars hummed with the sound of laughter.
There was time for the men and Gander to familiarize themselves with the area and the equipment being delivered for the defence of the island. The Bren guns that would be used on the border with Japanese-occupied China were made ready, along with the rifles, shells and grenades. Constructing the dugouts, shelters and pillboxes that were to be the primary line of defence was a priority and, even in the stifling heat, three sessions of guard duty and two hours of morning parade became part of the daily routine. Gander accompanied the men on patrol and whenever Fred Kelly was on guard duty Gander was sure to follow. The big black dog enjoyed being on duty, as long as he could take a nap in the shade when the mood took him. And at night Gander would join the men in the pillboxes. They felt safer having Gander beside them.
Given the beautiful surroundings the men could not be blamed for sometimes thinking they might be spared the hostility of conflict. Gander adapted well to the life of a soldier dog on a pass. It was not unusual for him to accept a bottle of beer from one of his many friends and an invitation to shower in their washroom several times a day. He lounged on their cots, shared their rations, enjoyed being groomed and played with and generally treated as a VIP. Fred was never far from Gander’s side if he could help it. When the men were on parade or on a training session and Gander was not allowed to join them, it was Fred who made the dog comfortable while they were away. For Fred it was a little like having a child to care for, only this ‘child’ liked to hog the shower and drink beer out of a sink. He also liked to help out where he could and if there was a job that needed a dog to pull an ammunition cart, Gander got the job. Looking after Gander could have been a full-time job but Fred had it down to a fine art a little while after they were partnered in Canada. He could almost think ahead of the big dog and that came in useful, particularly after showers. Fred learnt that if you didn’t get out of the way fast enough Gander would shake and cover you in water, but you also had to be double-quick and catch him and dry him off before he headed out to roll in the dirt. As soon as Fred caught up with Gander the dog would stop Fred in his tracks by standing on his hind legs and planting his paws firmly on Fred’s shoulders.
His relationship with the local Chinese population was not so friendly. It started after the parade on the day Gander and his friends arrived. Fred and several Royal Rifles were walking with Gander near to the barracks when they were approached by two men who were paying particular interest to Gander. They seemed friendly and Fred thought he had no reason to be suspicious. But then one of the men started to run and Gander decided to follow him. The other man then ran after Gander. By the time Fred and his friends arrived on the scene it was obvious the men had tried to pull and push Gander through a hole in a fence and had only succeeded in scaring the dog. Immediately, Fred dashed in to take Gander back to the camp while the others made it clear to the two gentlemen that Gander was off limits. They never had trouble again. But the encounter was enough for Gander to decide on a dislike for the look and sound of the local people. He must have thought they would all try to drag him away. The word on the street was that the dog was destined for the dinner table, so it was good that his friends were soon on the scene to rescue him. From that day on, Gander treated all Chinese people with suspicion. He was automatically wary and if they approached him he would growl and bare his teeth.
For a while life in the barracks was calm and slightly unreal but by mid November (19 November according to a veteran’s account) news reached the Hong Kong garrison that the Japanese Army was only 23 miles away. In October the Japanese had moved over 20,000 troops in Southern China and a rumour that the Imperial Army was about to move several thousand more troops was sounding more like fact than mere scaremongering.
On Sunday 7 December 1941, the Japanese finally showed the world their military might with a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, the Hawaiian port that was the headquarters of the US Pacific Fleet. In one morning 353 Japanese navy aircraft from six aircraft carriers sank or damaged many US warships, destroyed 188 aircraft on the ground and killed over 2,000 US service personnel and civilians. The attack brought the Americans into the Second World War, and the war in the East was on with a vengeance.
At first light the following day, the Japanese Army set its sights on Hong Kong. Gander’s war had begun.
General Maltby, Commander of the British Garrison in Hong Kong, who was now fully convinced of the Japanese intent to invade Hong Kong, gave the order to activate the garrison. Maltby had always feared that the Japanese would launch a seaborne attack, which explained the concentration of defences on the south of the island. The north side, facing the mainland, was less well fortified; this area included the Lye Mun Gap, which at its narrowest point was only 450 yards across. In an attempt to cover as much ground as possible the general decided to split his defences. West Brigade, comprising the Winnipeg Grenadiers, was commanded by Brigadier Lawson. Gander and the rest of ‘C’ Force formed part of East Brigade, under Brigadier Wallis. They were to be stationed in the Lye Mun region, with three company platoons and four reinforcement platoons. Scattered amongst them were small detachments of the Scots Guards, the Middlesex Regiment, the Hong Kong Defence Corps, and the Rajputs and Punjabis of the Indian Army.
After news broke of the attack on Pearl Harbor the men had been confined to barracks. As a result of a breakdown in communications, Gander and the men had no idea that the battle for Hong Kong had begun just hours after the Japanese attack. The first the British heard of it was when an Intelligence Officer assigned to monitoring the Japanese broadcasts picked up the following message at 4.45 a.m on 8 December 1941:
The Army and Navy division of Imperial Headquarters jointly announced at six o’clock this morning (Tokyo time), December 8, that the Imperial Army and Navy forces have begun hostilities against the American and British Forces in the Pacific at dawn today.
Within hours of receiving Maltby’s orders to leave the mainland, every kitbag was packed and ammunition was being loaded onto the ferry that would take them from Kowloon to Hong Kong Island. It was the first clue the men received to there being a declaration of war. The second clue was the appearance of Japanese bombers overhead and the howl of the air-raid siren over Kowloon. Then the bombing began.
The wind and rain lashed down as the soldiers landed on the island, laden with kitbags, ammunition, supplies and a very wet Newfoundland dog. ‘Come on buddy, not far to go now and we’ll be home and dry,’ said Fred Kelly, as he gently persuaded Gander to keep up with the rest of the Royal Rifles who were hurrying to take up their positions across 15 miles of the eastern part of the island.
Safely ashore, Gander stayed close to Fred. His dense coat hung heavy with rainwater and it slowed his pace as he clambered to keep up with his fellow soldiers. Fred was concerned that the dog might catch a chill and so he promised Gander a drying down when they reached their camp. Makeshift camps were being set up, and men and ammunition moved into position. There were not enough tents for every man there but the men were tired enough to sleep anywhere as the rumble of artillery continued throughout the night.
The assortment of coastal guns, manned pillboxes, minefields and barbed-wire fences that encircled the island came immediately under attack. The Royal Navy presence consisted of one destroyer, and the Royal Air Force retained a maximum of three torpedo bombers at Kai Tek Airport. On the morning of 8 December Japanese fighter aircraft destroyed the airport in one single attack. On their second run, the Japanese planes dropped leaflets demanding the surrender of Hong Kong. The British refused.
As the sirens wailed relentlessly and the sky filled with the darting shadows of fighter planes, the soldiers hurried to stock the wooden pillboxes that were strategically placed in a line of defence that was to protect against any landing from the sea. It was a race against time to get men and guns into place before the invaders made it ashore. It was a difficult time for Gander, who wanted to be at Fred Kelly’s side every second but had to content himself with spending his time confined to the makeshift barracks. But like any other good soldier, he took his turn on watch at night.
Shells exploded all around and the sky flashed burnt orange. Huge sheets of flame carved into the inky sky as the men worked frantically to move the boxes of ammunition that still lay where the ferry had landed. With nowhere to store these vital supplies out of the driving rain, cover had to be found urgently. The pillboxes were already packed with crates of equipment but still more had to be crammed into the tiny space available. Fred decided that a pillbox was the best place for Gander while all the work was going on. Although he wasn’t upset by the steady shelling that became a constant background noise, Gander liked to be so close to Fred that he was in danger of getting in the way. He didn’t whine or whimper or cause his friends a problem, he just liked to be close to them. The thud of the shelling continued into the night. Exhausted and desperate for rest, the men found a space to sleep not knowing if sleep was possible.
Gander was happy to have the men around him. Fred was convinced that the dog sensed the stress of the situation and was always very good at choosing the man who looked the most tired and anxious to get his full attention. Laying his head on the man’s lap, Gander heaped his full weight on too. No one wanted to move him. Wherever the dog lay, he brought a special peace and to the ‘chosen’ person he brought a tranquillity that was unknown in that place at that time. The dog was the perfect partner. Man’s best friend. The one individual who could bring a kind of peace where peace seemed impossible.
Over the next five days the Japanese superiority in the air gave their infantry an advantage on the ground. Marching into the New Territories without opposition, a wave of khaki started to wash over the mainland. The Punjabis attempted to stem the advance by demolishing bridges and destroying road and rail links but it did not slow the enemy taking ground. By 10 December the Japanese had swarmed into and over the populated mainland city and were ready to make an approach on the island.
By the morning of 13 December, all British, Canadian and other forces that had remained on the mainland had been evacuated to Hong Kong Island as the Japanese invasion proceeded at pace. The total defence force of over 14,500 men was now on the island. Seeing this action as a retreat, the Japanese were quick to make another demand for surrender. The British governor, Sir Mark Young, refused. Determined to smash the desperate Allied defence, the Imperial Army intensified the shelling from the mainland, taking out ammunition dumps and supply depots, and wreaking havoc on the communication lines.
Wave after wave of shelling and artillery battered the island’s coastal defences. The roadside pillboxes, so easy to pinpoint from the air, were systematically shelled all along the north shore, which made the line of defence strain under the attack. The Japanese advance seemed unstoppable. The area around the Lye Mun Gap, where Gander and the rest of ‘C’ Force were positioned, was now coming under threat. Between 10 December and the 17th, the units sustained heavy casualties, but still the British refused to surrender to the Japanese invaders. A message was sent to them:
The Governor and Commander-in-Chief of Hong Kong declines most absolutely to enter into negotiations for the surrender of Hong Kong, and takes this opportunity of notifying Lieutenant-General Takaishi Sakai and Vice-Admiral Masaichi Nimi that he is not prepared to receive any further communications from them on the subject.
Undeterred by British defiance, Lieutenant-General Sakai issued his own declaration in response:
On Thursday night, December 18, Japanese Imperial Forces will land upon the Island of Hong Kong at suitable situations between North Point and Lye Mun.
By late evening on 18 December 1941, the Japanese launched their attack on Hong Kong, coming thick and fast into the Lye Mun Gap. Boatload after boatload of soldiers in khaki landed, and they came screaming up the beach towards the Canadians, opening fire as they ran. There was no time for Fred Kelly to secure Gander in a pillbox. The onslaught was fast and furious, and every man reached for his rifle to fire at the running targets. The Royal Rifles held their section, sweeping the beach with heavy gunfire. Gander stayed close to Fred, who had no choice but to give the dog freedom. There was no time to do anything else. It was now Sergeant Gander’s time to prove his reputation as a ‘soldier dog’. He didn’t have a gun or a bayonet but his sheer size was enough to strike fear into the heart of the advancing army. As the Japanese streamed from their boats and onto the shore, the Canadian forces stood their ground. Rifles raised, they met the challenge of the Imperial Army. Then right in front of Fred and his comrades, Gander rose onto his hind legs. Like a bear, he ran at the Japanese soldiers, baring his teeth. Not even Fred Kelly could stop Gander now. The dog had seen his friends cut down by bombs and now by bullets and bayonets, and his loathing for the Japanese was instantaneous. He stood six foot tall on his hind legs, staring into the stunned faces of the Japanese soldiers as they ran screaming from the dog that they later called the ‘Black Devil’.
Fred thought Gander’s aggression must have stemmed from the memory of the day they arrived in Kowloon when two Chinese men had tried to abduct him. Until then he had trusted everyone. But that day he learnt there were people to be wary of and the picture he had in his mind matched the look of the soldiers facing his friends right now. For a while Gander waged his own personal war against the Japanese soldiers. If he was afraid, he did not show it. He was fearless and determined to repel the enemy and the Royal Rifles were proud to have him on their side. Time after time he ran in growling at the soldiers, who seemed too shocked to raise their rifles in the attack. Gander was a mascot but at that moment he was a brave soldier too. Gander remained determined to see off the enemy. That he remained alive seemed a miracle, even to the Riflemen serving at his side.
The Royal Rifles gave everything they had to try and stem the flow of the attack. From their slightly elevated position they had a clear view of the enemy and their Bren gun barrels were dangerously hot to the touch from the intense volume of fire. But the invaders kept coming and coming, screeching at the Canadians, with their long bayonets flashing. The Canadians were forced back and ‘C’ Force was soon in danger of being encircled by the Japanese. Withdrawing southwards to avoid entrapment, the men had another problem – the safe evacuation of the wounded. For those still standing, this was a priority. But by this time the men were also fighting a huge battle against exhaustion. For over a week they had been on continuous front-line duty and the effects of no sleep, no hot food and being constantly under attack were taking their toll on everyone. If they slept at all it would be in a weapon pit or where they collapsed, exhausted, on the roadside. All around, the injured lay amongst the dead, waiting to be taken to safety, but sometimes this could take hours and sitting in an almost constant hail of bullets left them vulnerable.
The remainder of ‘C’ Force had been forced back down the Lye Mun Road and into the Tai Tam Gap towards the Stanley area. All the time the men were using the sides of the road for shelter from the hail of grenades. The constant Japanese attacks made it difficult for the Royal Rifles to attend to the wounded, who now lay all over the road and in the ditches where they sought shelter. Fred Kelly, like his comrades, was exhausted from the fighting and Gander realized his friend needed his attention now. They lay together in a ditch, but not to rest. From there, Fred noticed another group – this time of wounded Canadians – stranded in the middle of the road. They were about 200 yards away and it looked as if they had been caught in a ferocious exchange of crossfire and were now unable to move in either direction. Then Fred saw Gander standing on the roadside beside them. He had felt the dog move away from him but had not realized where he was going.
‘Gander! Get down Gander. Down I said!’ Fred Kelly yelled at the dog, afraid that the Japanese would see him first and shoot him. But Gander had already seen his wounded friends and bounded towards them with his usual enthusiasm, only to see several Japanese soldiers moving in fast, their rifles raised in the direction of the wounded. Without hesitating, Gander ran towards them. Growling and baring his teeth, Gander sent them, running and shrieking, in the opposite direction, a look of terror in their eyes. Gander’s intervention gave his own men time to recover the wounded without losing ground. It was another brave show by the fearless Canadian dog.
Afraid that Gander would not be so lucky in the next onslaught, Fred took him just a few yards away to one of the pillboxes and secured it as best he could. The pillboxes were still being used as ammunition stores and shelter but most of the action was now being seen on the roadside. ‘Now you stay there buddy, until this mess is over…OK? I will come back for you,’ Fred said, as he patted Gander’s huge head for what he knew could be the last time. Fred was uneasy about leaving Gander this way but he was sure that the dog could not be that lucky again. Why the Japanese didn’t shoot him was a real puzzle. As they saw him as the ‘Black Devil’, maybe they were afraid to do so. No one knows, but it was clear that Gander was lucky to be alive.
Injured soldiers lay everywhere and as the fighting continued through the night, Gander remained on watch. In the early hours of 19 December, the Royal Rifles had begun to make their way into the hills on the south side of Hong Kong Island. Unable to get a clear shot on their target, the Japanese began tossing hand grenades up the hillside towards the men on the off chance they would wound anyone in the vicinity of the blast. But as fast as they were thrown up the hill the Canadians threw them back down before they exploded. And so the lethal game of ‘catch’ went on.
While the defending Royal Rifles engaged in the dangerous game with the grenades, Captain Garvey and six of his men were making their way into the hills to gain a better view of their target. At this moment a shell hit close by and all seven men were wounded in the blast. Unable to move forward, they immediately became the new target for the Japanese grenades. Blown in several directions by the blast, the men dragged themselves to a point at the side of the road where the captain lay. It was as if the Japanese were watching them, giving them time to move closer together before hitting them with a shower of grenades. One grenade fell just short of the group. One of the men reached for it and tossed it back. Another two grenades landed in the group and were tossed away by the Canadians. Then, as if in slow motion, the men watched a grenade drop into the middle of their group where no one could reach it. The clink of the metal hitting the road seemed to echo for just a moment. Rolling and smoking on the uneven road, the grenade came to a sudden stop. The men quickly located it and every hand moved towards the grenade but all were short. It was just out of reach. Transfixed in their moment of panic and disbelief, they didn’t see Gander approaching from behind. No one saw the dog move in. He came from nowhere and, as if he knew what would happen next, he streaked in. Feeling the breeze from the dog’s massive body on the move, the men watched in awe as Gander rushed in and picked up the hissing grenade in his mouth. He ran for several yards away from the wounded defending Canadians until the grenade detonated in his mouth, killing him instantly.
The wounded Canadians watched horrified as the grenade exploded. Gander was thrown into the air by the blast. His body lay motionless on the road. Captain Garvey and his men survived and each of them knew they owed their lives to their big black mascot dog.
Gander’s body lay on the road all night as the fighting continued. The Canadians fought on to defend their grip on the island and were being pushed back all the time as the grenades continued to be thrown in. No one could reach Gander’s body and they had to leave him where he lay. Those who witnessed his bravery had no idea that Fred Kelly was unaware of the dog’s death. As far as Fred knew, Gander was in the pillbox where he had left him, away from the fighting. As the news of Gander’s bravery made its way through the line, Fred learnt of Gander’s heroic deed. The dog had died saving the lives of his friends. Fred had assumed that at the height of the shelling the dog was in the pillbox where he usually slept at night. ‘When they started shelling. I think he must have got scared and ran out of the pillbox,’ said Fred later. ‘It was pitch dark. I didn’t see him run and if I had I would have tried to stop him. But I didn’t see him go or save Garvey and his men. That damn dog was a friend to all of us.’
As the sun rose the next morning, the men could see Gander’s body still lying on the roadside. It was trapped in the open ground between the two fighting forces where no one could reach him. All the time the men were being forced back by the enemy soldiers, making it impossible to rescue their friend’s body. Fred Kelly was Gander’s closest friend and the sight of the dog lying dead was more than he could bear. He had served with that dog alongside him since the regiment was stationed at Gander Airfield. They had travelled together the thousands of miles by train and boat to fight on the front line in Hong Kong. They had shared so much together and to have the friendship end this way without a goodbye or being able to bury Gander’s body was too painful. ‘I think my pals were afraid to tell me that the dog was dead. But I could see that he was dead and I hated that I couldn’t go near. To think he was gone hurt me so much and I’m not ashamed to say that I cried. I missed my old pal so much.’
On Christmas Day 1941, Hong Kong was forced to surrender to the Japanese Army. Fred Kelly and his fellow survivors were ordered to come forward and were immediately transported to prisoner of war camps. Those who survived the horror of the camps returned home to Canada but they never forgot their mascot dog, Gander. The men were taken prisoner before they had the chance to collect Gander’s body from the roadside where he died. The image of the dog lying there haunted the men for all the time they were prisoners of the Japanese and afterwards in peacetime. They never forgot Gander’s bravery and the way he made the ultimate sacrifice for his friends. Those who were saved that cold night in December knew they owed their lives to the dog and they still harboured the hurt they felt when they had to leave him behind.
The exact time of Gander’s death is unknown but it’s almost certain that his war ended in the early hours of 19 December, within a few hours of the death of another war hero, Sergeant-Major John Osborn. Osborn, an English-born veteran of the First World War, was the first Canadian to receive the Victoria Cross in the Second World War, and it was the only VC awarded for action during the battle for Hong Kong. On the night that Gander saved the lives of seven of his friends in the Royal Rifles of Canada, Sergeant-Major Osborn of the Winnipeg Grenadiers was leading an attack on Mount Butler just a few miles away. Having taken the hill and held it for three hours with only bayonets for weapons, his company was finally forced out by enemy gunfire. Separated from the main battalion, Osborn ignored the rattle of enemy machine guns to gather his men together and lead them to a safer position. When the Japanese began throwing grenades, Osborn began throwing them back. For a while he kept pace with the constant stream of missiles but suddenly one landed too far from his reach. Instinctively, Osborn shouted to warn his men away as he selflessly dived onto the grenade. He was killed instantly but his bravery saved the lives of many others.
Fifty-four years after the fall of Hong Kong a group of veterans were relating the story of Sergeant-Major Osborn to Jeremy Swanson, commemorations officer of the Canadian War Museum. Their memories were to be included in a special exhibition to honour the heroes of the battle in which over 300 Canadians lost their lives and 500 were wounded. The veterans, many of them injured during the fighting for Hong Kong and then held for three years as Japanese prisoners of war, were describing Osborn’s selfless act of bravery when one of the men said, ‘Yes…just like that goddam dog!’ It was the start of the conversation that the men had been waiting to have for over half a century. They wanted to relate, not how they had suffered but how a huge, brave Newfoundland dog had saved their lives. They told of the dog’s courage and companionship and how they had always wanted a medal for Gander. They wanted the world to know about their gallant mascot.
In Ottawa, Canada, on 27 October 2000, Gander’s handler, Fred Kelly, accepted the PDSA Dickin Medal -the medal recognized internationally as the animals’ Victoria Cross – on behalf of Gander. The medal is the highest honour any animal can receive for bravery in conflict and it was the day the veteran soldiers and their families had longed for. For Fred Kelly it was, he said, ‘the best day of my life!’ Gander’s Dickin Medal went on to form a proud part of the Canadians’ Defence of Hong Kong exhibition at the Canadian War Museum in Ottawa. To the veterans who meet each year to remember friends fallen and heroes lost, Gander is a hero still.
The Hong Kong Veterans Association of Canada (HKVAOC) is still a very active group of veterans and their families, who continue to fight for the recognition of that period of sacrifice. In August 2009 they succeeded in seeing the unveiling of a memorial wall depicting the battle and the names of the people lost in the conflict. The unveiling was a proud and long-awaited moment for the surviving veterans of the Battle of Lye Mun. It was also the foundation stone for the memorial that will go on to feature a bronze of Canada’s canine hero – Gander.
During the battle for Hong Kong Gander proved that he was a ‘soldier dog’. He was no longer a child’s pet, he was a war dog who slept, ate and drank only when he was not facing the enemy. Gander was not trained to be a messenger or a guard dog, like so many other pet dogs were during the Second World War. He just found himself on active service and did what he had done from the start – he gave his friends comfort, companionship and a cosy reminder of home so very far away. But in the throes of battle, Gander was the soldier dog that the hostilities made him.
Gander is now recognized as a Canadian hero of the Second World War. But to his soldier friends he will always be their best pal.

Judy – Prisoner of War 81A Gloergoer, Medan (#u7e558158-263f-519e-9c4a-a51ad90e3c5c)
‘She was in her short lifetime an inspiration of courage, hope and a will to live, to many who would have given up in their time of trial…
(Frank Williams, Leading Aircraftsman, RAF)

‘Where’s Judy? Has anyone seen her?’
British warship HMS Grasshopper had been torpedoed. Out of the dark, cold and oily water a sailor shouted to his shipmates in the hope that someone had seen Judy, the ship’s mascot. Just moments before the ship was hit, Judy was in her usual place enjoying extra rations in the ship’s galley. She belonged to the entire crew and they all looked after her. She was a lucky mascot who, on her previous ship, HMS Gnat, had been shelled and almost drowned in the Yangtze River. It seemed Judy was in the wrong place at the wrong time once again.
When Singapore fell to the Japanese in February 1942, Grasshopper, a 585-ton river gunboat, left Keppel Harbour in Singapore, bound for Java, her sister ship HMS Dragonfly alongside her. Spotted by a Japanese seaplane both ships were dive bombed. Grasshopper, already battle-scarred from the Malaya-Singapore campaign, took a hit under her bow. Commander Hoffman decided to lay-up his ship in a group of islands to the north of Sinkep, but two miles short of safety the ships came under fire again. Two formations of 81 Japanese bombers passed overhead. Nine of the planes at five-minute intervals dropped their bombs and a mile from land the Grasshopper was hit astern and set on fire. Many of the 75 crew and 50 passengers (Japanese POWs, Royal Marines, Army officers and civilians) jumped overboard and swam for their lives as the commander beached his ship, which took two more hits before it had to be abandoned.
The survivors, marooned on one of the tiny uninhabited islands in the region, gradually gathered together on the sand. They were in desperate straits. There was very little food to salvage from what was left of the Grasshopper and there was no fresh water. Judy had suddenly appeared in the group, much to the relief of the remaining crew. They had lost sight of her in the mayhem of the bombing and assumed she had run for cover in the depths of the ship. Wherever she had been hiding she had, at some stage, made the wise move to head for the water. Weary and covered in oil, the bedraggled dog wandered between the few survivors. The Grasshopper

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