Duke
Page 13
He whistled for Duke and they headed out. Duke loped alongside the bike, grinning. Marv said Duchess grinned like that, too. Especially when she chased squirrels. Like father, like daughter, Marv had written in his last letter, postmarked from Botkins, Ohio, his hometown.
Hobie turned the last corner toward Lee’s. Across the street he saw the little girl with her dog, Suzy.
“Hey!” Hobie called out, waving.
“Hey!” The girl called back. “Look at this!” She stopped right on the sidewalk and told Suzy to sit, down, stay.
Suzy performed like a champ.
“Hot dog!” Hobie cheered.
“Thank you!” The girl waved as Hobie rode off.
When he got to Lee’s, Hobie parked his bike out front like always, but now Duke followed him up the steps. Mrs. Lee had changed her rules. “War veterans welcome,” she’d proclaimed. “Especially the four-legged kind.”
The bell over the door tinkled as they stepped inside. Mrs. Lee put her feather duster down and pulled a Milk-Bone from her apron pocket. Duke crunched it happily.
“I’ve got a joke for you today,” she told Hobie, scratching behind Duke’s ears. “What do dogs have that no other animals have?”
That was an old one, but Hobie pretended he’d never heard it. “I give,” he said.
“Puppies!” Mrs. Lee tapped the countertop. “Get it?”
Hobie got it.
Mrs. Lee gathered up the sugar and other items on Mom’s list while Hobie counted out the ration stamps, handing them over with the money.
“Are you coming to Dad’s welcome home party?” he asked. He never got tired of saying those delicious words together: “Dad” and “home.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m bringing my famous sauerkraut cake,” she said. “It’s always a hit.”
“That’d be … swell.” Sauerkraut cake didn’t sound like a hit. But Hobie didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Lee’s feelings. “See you in the funny papers!”
He adjusted the canvas bag on his back, threw his leg over his bike, and started off. As they passed the playfield, Duke drew a bead on a squirrel. Hobie eased to a stop and watched the chase. The squirrels always won, but that would never discourage Duke.
The smell of cigarette smoke tweaked Hobie’s nose. He glanced around. There, by the playfield backstop, stood Mitch Mitchell with a bunch of guys. Older guys. Hobie watched them for a second. They were passing around a pack of cigarettes. Probably kiped from someone’s dad. Mitch was busy showing off, blowing smoke rings.
Hobie began riding again, knowing Duke would soon find his way home. A block away, Hobie ran into one of the ladies in Mom’s Red Cross group.
“Hobie,” she called.
He slowed his bike.
“Such good news about your father,” she said. “We can’t wait until our Mike gets home. Whenever that will be.” She sighed. “You give my best to your mother, will you?”
Hobie nodded. Then remembered his manners. “Thank you, Mrs. Mitchell.”
“Time to be on my way,” she said. “I’m headed to Lee’s to pick up some pudding mix. Mitch does love his tapioca!”
Hobie told Mrs. Mitchell good-bye and placed his feet on the bike pedals. “And say hello to Mitch for me,” he added.
“I’ll do that, next time I see him,” she said.
According to Hobie’s calculations, that would be in about one minute.
Hobie whistled. Duke came running. Running to Hobie.
“Want to race, boy?” Hobie cranked on the pedals, ready to ride, ready to fly.
“This time,” he said, “I just might beat you.”
Not too long ago, I visited a school where a boy asked me if all my stories were about war. The answer is that none of my stories are about war. I like to write about people who are dealing with tough times. Like wars.
When I started this book, my plan was to write about a boy whose father was an American prisoner of war in Germany. The goal was to honor my husband’s uncle, Palmer Bruland, who flew B-24s in World War II. Palmer had wanted to get home to his wife and family, so he signed on for an extra mission, the Kassel Mission, in a plane he’d never flown (The Texas Rose) with a crew he’d never met. The Kassel Mission was a disaster for the Allies; barely half the men survived. Palmer’s plane was shot down; he was captured and sent to Stalag Luft 1 in Barth, Germany. By the time that camp was liberated on May 1, 1945, it housed 8,939 officers from America, Britain, Canada, and New Zealand, who were all many, many pounds thinner after a long winter without sufficient food.
I read dozens and dozens of POW memoirs, and was powerfully moved by those stories, but I kept reading, intent on discovering what wartime life was like for kids. In one of the books I read, “Daddy’s Gone to War”: The Second World War in the Lives of America’s Children, by William M. Tuttle, Jr., I came across an absolutely astonishing description of how kids helped with the war effort: “In addition to scrap collecting, school age children sent books, magazines, and crossword puzzles to patients in veterans’ hospitals. Children also … volunteered their pet dogs for service” (p. 124; emphasis added).
I had to read those sentences several times. I couldn’t believe it. Children volunteered their pets? In all of my reading about World War II, I had never before encountered this fact.
But, indeed, it was true. Through an organization called Dogs for Defense, thousands of family pets were “enlisted” in Uncle Sam’s Army. A good number stayed stateside and worked as guard dogs, patrolling plants that made airplanes and other important matériel for the war. But many dogs saw action, serving as messengers, sentries, on patrols, and as bomb and mine sniffers.
You should know that I am owned by an adorable dog named Winston (a.k.a. Winston the Wonder Dog). I cannot imagine sending him off to war. It would break my heart! But that’s because I’m living now. Had I lived back during WWII, I might have felt quite differently. Then, people at home were bombarded with constant pleas to pitch in and do their bit. Newspaper and magazine ads and articles, radio shows, comic books, and movies — even cartoon characters! — urged Americans to do all they could for the war effort. I began to understand how a boy like Hobie would feel pressured to send away his beloved dog, especially if he believed it might help the war end sooner.
Some of you will wonder if this story is true. Let me answer this way: There was a program called Dogs for Defense (Seattle twins Spike and Mike Jankelson did give up their Collie, Laddie) as well as a place called Stalag Luft 1, and a radio show about Hop Harrigan (Hobie would have listened to it every afternoon, on station KJR).
Lee’s Grocery, a small store in a home, was up the street from where my grandparents lived, on Corliss Avenue in Seattle. In case you think Max is too young for a paper route, during the war, my dad, at age ten, carried the Seattle Daily Times on three routes, every single day after school, arriving home long after dark. And, as it has for some eighty years, the Seattle fishing fleet receives a blessing each March, a tradition begun by the Reverend O. L. Haavik in 1929.
Most important, Duke, Missy, Pepper, Skipper, Big Boy, and Bunkie were real war dogs. A memorial in their honor stands on the island of Guam, thanks to the efforts of Captain William W. Putney, DVM, USMC. He wrote about his service as the vet for the 3rd War Dog Platoon in the moving book Always Faithful. That’s where I read about Pfc. Marvin Corff, whose name I borrowed for this book. I wish I could have met Captain Putney and Pfc. Corff. Semper Fi, gentlemen!
I work hard to make sure that what I write is factual. But sometimes a story requires veering from the actual timing of events. One example of this is that Duke would have been at Camp Lejeune in 1943, not 1944, for his training.
The other thing to remember is that the people in this story are made up; they exist only on these pages.
And, of course, in this writer’s heart.
My name gets to appear on the front cover of this book, but I owe a huge debt of gratitude to so many people, including Ann Whitford Paul, who shared
recipes from her copy of Grandma’s Wartime Kitchen; Steve Remington, of the American Society of Aviation Artists, who helped with spotter model questions; and John at Old Time Radio Catalog (otrcat.com), as well as Jim Ramsburg, both Hop Harrigan experts. Thank you, Dad, for answering my nine million questions about being a kid during WWII. Finally, I am grateful to Myrtle Bruland for sharing information about Palmer Bruland’s POW experiences in Stalag Luft 1, and to the many POWs who shared their stories in memoirs such as A Fighter Pilot in Buchenwald (Joseph F. Moser as told by Gerald R. Baron); Hell Above and Hell Below (Richard H. Lewis as told to William R. Larson); and Zemke’s Stalag (Hubert Zemke as told to Roger A. Freeman). Hobie’s dad’s words in Chapter Sixteen were taken from a real Stalag Luft 1 POW’s first postcard home.
I found treasure in Dear Poppa: The World War II Berman Family Letters, compiled by Ruth Berman, edited by Judy Barrett Litoff, as well as in A War-Time Handbook for Young Americans, by Munro Leaf.
The memorable stories of this country’s brave four-legged soldiers were lovingly documented in Always Faithful, by Captain William W. Putney; Dogs At War, by Clayton G. Going; and History of Dogs for Defense, by Fairfax Downey. Special thanks to Roland “Mike” Jankelson for sharing his memories of donating his dog, Laddie, to Dogs for Defense.
None of my books would get off the ground without the assistance of the amazing librarians at Seattle Public Library, King County Library, and all of their colleagues around the country.
I can’t write a word without Mary Nethery, who manages to make sure my novels actually have plots. I’d be pulling espresso shots if not for the guidance of Jill Grinberg, agent extraordinaire. And I would never, ever have found the heart of Hobie’s story without Lisa Sandell, who is a real sweetheart but drives a tough bargain when it comes to making a really good book. And, thank you, Whitney Lyle, for this book’s stunning design. These acknowledgments would not be complete without a nod to the adorable Lily Bess and her beach buddy Esme, as well as to Neil, who never wanted a dog but is now as crazy about Winston as I am.
Kirby Larson is the acclaimed author of the 2007 Newbery Honor book Hattie Big Sky; its sequel, Hattie Ever After; The Friendship Doll; and Dear America: The Fences Between Us. She has also cowritten two award-winning picture books about dogs: Two Bobbies: A True Story of Hurricane Katrina, Friendship, and Survival, and Nubs: The True Story of a Mutt, a Marine & a Miracle. She lives in Washington State with her husband and Winston the Wonder Dog.
ALSO BY KIRBY LARSON
Novels
Dear America: The Fences Between Us
The Friendship Doll
Hattie Big Sky
Hattie Ever After
Picture Books
with Mary Nethery
Nubs: The True Story of a Mutt, a Marine & a Miracle
Two Bobbies: A True Story of Hurricane Katrina, Friendship, and Survival
Copyright © 2013 by Kirby Larson
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Larson, Kirby.
Duke / Kirby Larson. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: In 1944 Hobie Hanson’s father is flying B-24s in Europe, so Hobie decides to donate his beloved German shepherd, Duke, to Dogs for Defense in the hope that it will help end the war sooner — but when he learns that Duke is being trained for combat he is shocked, frightened, and determined to get his dog back. ISBN 978-0-545-41637-5 (jacketed hardcover) 1. German shepherd dog — Juvenile fiction. 2. World War, 1939–1945 — United States — Juvenile fiction. 3. Dogs — War use — Juvenile fiction. 4. Human-animal relationships — Juvenile fiction. 5. United States — History — 1933–1945 — Juvenile fiction. [1. German shepherd dog — Fiction. 2. Dogs — Fiction. 3. Dogs — War use — Fiction. 4. World War, 1939–1945 — United States — Fiction. 5. Human-animal relationships — Fiction. 6. United States — History — 1933–1945 — Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.L32394Duk 2013
813.54 — dc23
2012046636
First edition, September 2013
Jacket art © 2013 by Blake Morrow
Jacket design by Whitney Lyle
e-ISBN 978-0-545-57644-4
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.