Judy: The Unforgettable Story of the Dog Who Went to War and Became a True Hero

by Damien Lewis

As to the railway itself, its impotence and futility were demonstrated most starkly in the months immediately after the end of the war. It was never put to use. After the departure of the vanquished Japanese no locomotives ever ran on that ill-fated railway. Not a year after the Japanese surrender many of the bridges along its route had been washed away in the monsoons, and the iron rails were already being ripped up and sold for scrap.

  In 1951 Indonesia’s national railway authority did carry out an inspection of the Pakan Baroe to Moera railway, or at least what remained of it. The recommendation of that study was that only a small section from Pakan Baroe to Logan—the first 100 kilometers—was worth saving, a length that would give access to the Sapoe and Karoe coal mines that the Japanese had been so eager to exploit for their war effort.

  That recommendation was never acted upon, and today most Indonesians have no recollection of the railway ever having existed. They have no idea how the rusting hulks of locomotives lying in the jungle or in village clearings—those which their children use as makeshift climbing frames—ever came to be there. Nearly all traces of the railway that was hacked and hewn from jungle, cliff face, rock, and mud with the loss of so many lives have vanished.

  The railway has been reclaimed by the jungle, along with so many of the bones of those who perished while trying to build it. One fact often ignored by those relating its history is the appalling death rate suffered by the romushas, the local slave laborers who were forced to work on the railroad alongside the Allied POWs. It is over 80 percent, bringing it very close to that in the German concentration camps.

  Absolutely accurate numbers will never be known, but the Pakan Baroe to Moera railroad claimed the lives of some 700 British, Dutch, American, Australian, and other Allied POWs and over 80,000 Indonesians. That doesn’t include some eighteen hundred Allied POWs who drowned when their transport ships the SS Van Waerwijck and the Junyo Maru were torpedoed and sank off the Sumatran coast. All of that untold suffering by so many prisoner-slaves had been for naught.

  Petty Officer White—the seaman who had rescued Judy from the trap of the Grasshopper’s flooded mess deck after the ship had been run aground—did complete his epic escape. It took him and his fellows several weeks by small boat to India, but by a process of dead reckoning and navigating by the stars they did make it to friendly landfall and just a few dozen kilometers from the coastal city of Madras. By then of course the main body of survivors from the Grasshopper had been taken captive by the Japanese, Judy included.

  After the war Judy and Frank spent two happy years in his native Portsmouth. He’d often take her to his local, the Stamshaw Hotel, and regale fellow drinkers with tales of her adventures. But he remained reluctant ever to speak about his own experiences as a POW. The one thing he did discuss was how Judy contributed to saving his own and so many other lives in the camps.

  “The greatest way . . . was giving me a reason to live. All I had to do was look at her and into those weary, bloodshot eyes and I would ask myself: What would happen to her if I died? I had to keep going. Even if it meant waiting for a miracle.”

  By 1948 Frank Williams had grown restless living in Britain and sought wider horizons. He accepted the offer of a job with the Overseas Food Corporation in Tanzania, East Africa, running a large groundnut (or peanuts as we more commonly call them) plantation. Judy, of course, was going with him—and so the man and dog who had survived so much in foreign climes were once again headed overseas.

  Unsurprisingly for a dog so well traveled, Judy thrilled to their new adventure. She had her third and final litter of pups in Tanzania, and she grew adept at chasing after the exotic East African wildlife, all except for the baboons. They’d form a troop and dance and cavort around her, daring the distinguished-looking liver-and-white English pointer to single out one of them to chase. More often than not she found it so beguiling that she’d try to dash after them all, and the entire troop would spring away, chattering and laughing.

  But there were bigger and wilder things out there in the bush than playful baboons. One evening Abdul, Frank’s houseboy, left a tin bath full of water outside their house on the plantation, intending to empty it the next morning. In the depths of the night Frank and Judy were woken by the sound of loud slurping coming from outside their window. Judy rushed to investigate, only to find an enormous muddy-brown animal sucking up the last of the bath water. The elephant took precious little notice of Judy’s spirited barking and continued to drain the last of the suds.

  Only when Frank joined his dog shooing the massive beast away did the elephant finally decide to leave, its thirst well and truly slaked. But Judy remained incensed. She grabbed the tin bath—now noticeably lighter—and started to drag it into the house. Frank tried to object that there was nothing much left in the bath to save, but Judy was having none of it. Once the tin trough was safely inside, she returned to bark at the receding bulk of the elephant, which was fading into the silvery shadows of the moonlit African plain. Elephant gone, she curled up in the doorway and settled down to sleep, keeping one eye on her master’s precious bathtub.

  Frank’s plantation work took him by air all across Tanzania and wider East Africa. He always tried to take Judy, his faithful companion, with him. On one such flight he was surprised to see her happily squeeze herself into the onboard kennel, a process more normally met by fierce barking and resistance. Frank wondered why she had gone in so easily this time. He was mystified.

  Upon touchdown he got his answer. The top of Judy’s cage had an opening large enough for her to poke her head through. Above her had been packed a cargo of freshly killed game. Judy had had a veritable in-flight feast, and much of the meat had been wolfed down.

  It seemed that the ultimate survivor dog had never forgotten the lesson she had learned in the Japanese POW camps: if there was food to be had, she was best to grab it, and hang the consequences.

  In February 1950—with Judy fourteen years old—Frank took her on a work trip in their jeep. There had been heavy rains, and he didn’t want to stray too far from their place of abode on the plantation, near the town of Nachingwea. After the short drive Frank and his workers proceeded to make a camp in the bush, as Judy did what she always did when they were out in the field—she darted off to scout for any danger.

  At first Frank wasn’t particularly worried. But when three hours had passed and still Judy was nowhere to be seen, he got together a search party. His workers joined Frank in whistling and calling out her name, but still Judy wouldn’t come. With dusk approaching, Frank was getting seriously worried. Then one of his local foremen, Abdullah, discovered some tracks in the bush that were clearly those of the missing dog.

  Abdullah used his native tracking skills to follow her, with Frank at his shoulder. Frank became all the more alarmed when they noticed a leopard’s tracks apparently shadowing those of his dog. They tracked her for miles along a narrow path that led to an isolated village, but when they got there no one had seen any sign of the dog. Her tracks appeared to peter out. Judy, it seemed, had disappeared.

  Frank posted a reward for 500 shillings—a considerable amount of money in what was then preindependence Tanzania—for his dog’s safe return and sent messages out to all the surrounding villages. Three days passed, and there was still no news. Frank was getting desperate when, on the afternoon of the fourth day, a local ran into the camp and announced to Abdullah that Judy had been found. On hearing the news, Frank and Abdullah jumped aboard their jeep, with the local acting as guide to take them to the missing dog.

  A village elder received them and took them to a hut. He opened the door, and there was Judy. But so exhausted was she from her ordeal that she could barely stand. Seeing Frank, she struggled to her feet, wagged her tail weakly, and promptly collapsed again. Wrapped in blankets, Judy was driven back to their homestead. There they treated her by removing the hundreds of cattle ticks that had attached themselves to her during her long sojourn in the bush, bathing her wounds and dousing them
with disinfectant.

  Judy ate the food Frank gave her, seemed much comforted, and fell into a deep sleep. Over the ensuing days she gained strength, and Frank hoped the worst was past. But on the night of February 16—some days after her disappearance—Judy began to cry and whine. Frank sat with her during the hours of darkness, but whenever she was awake Judy cried and was clearly in pain. Come sunrise. she was unable to stand and in obvious discomfort.

  Frank carried her through the streets of Nachingwea to the hospital, his dog still crying as she lay in his arms. Doctor Jenkins, the English surgeon at the hospital, found she had a mammary tumor and operated immediately. At first the operation seemed to be a success, but a few hours later the dog who had survived so much succumbed to a raging tetanus infection. She was still trying to fight but she was in obvious pain, and it was clear to the surgeon that she was fading fast.

  “Let me end it, Frank,” he suggested.

  Wordlessly Frank nodded his acquiescence, and on February 17, 1950, at 5 p.m. Tanzanian time Judy was put to sleep.

  Judy’s body was wrapped in the Royal Air Force jacket that she’d been given when she was made an official mascot of the RAF and laid in a simple wooden coffin. She was buried in a grave not far from the home she had shared with Frank in Nachingwea. Using pieces of white stone collected in the bush, Frank and his workers fashioned a polished sarcophagus over the grave, topped off with a plaque that reads:

  In memory of Judy DM Canine VC

  Breed English Pointer

  Born Shanghai February 1936, died February 1950.

  Wounded February 14, 1942.

  Bombed and sunk HMS Grasshopper

  Lingga Archipelago February 14, 1942.

  Torpedoed SS Van Waerwijck

  Malacca Straits June 26, 1943.

  Japanese Prisoner of War March 1942–August 1945.

  China Ceylon Java England Egypt Burma

  Singapore Malaya Sumatra E Africa.

  They Also Served.

  A Short Bibliography

  Ambushed Under the Southern Cross—The Making of an American Merchant Marine Officer and His Ensuing Saga of Courage and Survival, Capt. George W. Duffy. An American merchant navy captain’s memoir of his ship being sunk by a German raider and the Japanese POW camps spread over Java, Singapore, and Sumatra that he survived.

  The Animal Victoria Cross—The Dickin Medal, Peter Hawthorne. Compilation of short stories covering the Dickin Medal winners throughout its history.

  The Animals’ VC—For Gallantry or Devotion, David Long. Compilation of short stories covering the Dickin Medal winners throughout its history.

  Beyond the Bamboo Screen—Scottish Prisoners of War under the Japanese, Tom McGowran, OBE. A compilation of articles and stories from the Scottish Far East Prisoner of War Association.

  The Conjurer on the Kwai: Captivity, Slavery and Survival as a Far East POW, Peter Fyans. Superb firsthand account of a British POW who used his skills as a magician and conjurer to stay alive in the Japanese labor camps and save countless other Allied lives.

  The Defining Years of the Dutch East Indies, 1942–1949, edited by Jan A. Krancher. Contains survivors’ accounts of the Japanese invasion of what was then the Dutch East Indies and the incarceration of the European, American, and local POWs and their forced labor on the death railway.

  Escape to Captivity, Peter Hartley. The story of a young sergeant in the British Army who refuses to surrender at Singapore and ends up being captured by the Japanese and imprisoned on Sumatra.

  The Judy Story, E. Varley. A short but engaging book written with the assistance of some of the Yangtze gunboat crews, telling of Judy’s life and adventures.

  The Jungle Journal—Prisoner of the Japanese in Java 1942–45, Frank and Ronald Williams. The story of a young Royal Artillery officer who was held as a Japanese prisoner of war in the Dutch East Indies, as told through his diaries.

  Marines Don’t Hold Their Horses, Ian Skidmore. The story of Colonel Alan Warren, CBE, DSC, who, having helped many escape the Japanese via Sumatra, ended up as a prisoner of war himself.

  Prisoners in Java—Accounts by Allied Prisoners of War in the Far East (1942–1945) Captured in Java. As the title suggests, the book contains collected articles written by former POWs, compiled by the Java Far East Prisoners of War Club.

  Prisoner in Nippon, Ray S. Stubbs. Tells the story of the author’s retreat from Singapore and capture by the Japanese and the years he spent as a prisoner of war.

  Prisoners of War—Australians Under Nippon, Hank Nelson. Stories of the Australian servicemen and women held in Japanese prisoner of war camps.

  Spice Island Slaves, Leslie J. Audus. Presents a history of the Japanese prisoner of war camps in Eastern Indonesia during the war years.

  The Sumatra Railroad: Final Destination Pakan Baroe, 1943–45, Henk Hovinga. One of the very few books telling the story of the other death railway—the one pushed through the Sumatra jungles by POWs. Encyclopedic. Definitive.

  Survivors of the Sword—Prisoners of the Japanese 1942–45, Brian MacArthur. Compelling stories from survivors from across the Japanese prisoner of war and slave-labor camps. An excellent read.

  Unsung Heroes of the Royal Air Force, Les and Pam Stubbs. A useful and informative record of the RAF airmen held as Japanese prisoners of war.

  Yangtze River Gunboats 1900–49, Angust Konstam. Short but excellent book about the Yangtze gunboats, including fine photos and illustrations.

  Appendix: Original Documentation

  I have decided to include in this book a sample of official documents obtained from the National Archives, the Admiralty, the Imperial War Museum, and other sources capturing the flavor and essence of some of the key moments in the extraordinary story of Judy and her fellows. What is especially striking is the underplayed, deadpan way in which those present at such events—which were extreme, even for a conflict as all-consuming as the Second World War—relate them. They give a real sense of the nature of Judy’s comrades during the war, and from reading these and more it seems clear why she was so devoted to her fellow sailors, airmen, and soldiers, especially when they became fellow prisoners of war. Each document is accompanied by a note outlining the genesis and purpose of the report.

  Document One

  Author’s note—this is a report on the sinking of the Grasshopper, the vessel on which Judy was shipwrecked as they attempted to evacuate Singapore.

  Narrative 7.

  Note—There are probably officers, survivors, P.O.W. in Sumatra & Siam.

  Prisoner of War Camp,

  Mile School,

  PALEMBANG.

  P.N. Sherd, 9/9/45

  4th April, 1942.

  STATEMENT BY Mr. H. BARDEN, Eastern Bank, SINGAPORE—Ship “GRASSHOPPER” (800 tons approx.)

  We left Singapore 1730 hours on 13th February, 1942, but with Dragonfly: returned about midnight when we sailed again about 1000 hours on 14th February, one aircraft dropped one bomb that missed us. About 1230 hours two waves each about 25 aircraft bombed us. We were hit and the engine room began to flood. The ship was then beached near a small island in the Rhio Archipelago. Stores were offloaded and magazines destroyed. All personnel including 60–80 civilians were taken ashore. The skipper (Hoffman) arranged for us to go to Daboe where we arrived on the 18th or 19th February. Owing to the effect of blast on my back from bombing I went into hospital where Captain Kirkwood, I.M.S., had just arrived. On 23rd of February the Dutch from Djambi took about 40 of us to the hospital there. Another launch containing fit survivors from Daboe followed us, but went through to Padang. They were mostly serving personnel.

  On 1st March we tried to go to Padang but the ferry launch had been destroyed by the Dutch as we retuned.

  The Japanese arrived in Djambi on 6th March. We stayed in Hospital until 27th March, and after 2 days in the military barracks Djambi we were taken to Palrumbang where I arrived 31st March as prisoner.

  In the party which went to Padang were Comman
der Alexander R.N., and Lieutenant Commander Reid.

  Mr. H.M. James (Planter) died in Hospital at Djambi.

  We left in Djambi Hospital a Mrs. Parr with a badly injured arm, Dalrymple (R.A.F.) wounded by shrapnel in the leg, Marine Faint (wounded), Miss Hartley, an elderly lady with slight shrapnel wounds in the leg, two Chinese nurses from the General Hospital, Singapore, and two Eurasian nurses. I regret I do not know what happened to the many people who were left in Daboe.

  Document Two

  Author’s note—this is a report on the sinking of the Dragonfly, sister ship to the Grasshopper, which was shipwrecked as they attempted to evacuate Singapore.

  Statement by Capt. R.L. Lyle (now Major) on loss of H.M.S. “Dragonfly” including statement on possibility of survivors landing in other places and a list of names of those known to have embarked, seen killed etc.

  I have divided this report into three:

  (1) Circumstances under which H.M.S. Gunboat “Dragonfly” was lost

  (2) General itinerary of survivors from the place of loss to Colombo

  (3) List of names of those seen killed etc.

  e. Loss of M.M.S. Gunboat “Dragonfly”

  At about 0200 hrs on the Feb 14, 1942, H.M.S. “Dragonfly” in company with H.M.S. Gunboat “Grasshopper” removed detailed evacuation parties of the various Brigades and Divisions which then remained on Singapore Island. At this period both ships were very badly shelled but appeared to sustain little damage and no casualties.

  After steaming at probably maximum speed the remainder of the night, at 0930 the same morning (i.e. Feb) 14 a Japanese Flying Boat was sighted which was very obviously on reconnaissance. At this time H.M.S. “Dragonfly” was leading and H.M.S. Grasshopper was following about a mile astern.

  The Flying Boat flew over the “Dragonfly” and dropped two bombs of small caliber. Both however were near misses and no damage was done. The ships guns went into action. The Flying Boat paid no attention to H.M.S. “Grasshopper.” As this plane was so obviously a reconnaissance aircraft, the Commander of our Gunboat decided to get under the lee of one of the small islands in the vicinity, in an endeavor to evade any aircraft which might be sent after us. To put this into effect our course was changed slightly. The Commander of H.M.S. “Dragonfly” was to the best of my knowledge by name of Commander Sprott. The Commander of the “Grasshopper” being Commander Hoffman. However, before reaching cover of the islands, large numbers of Japanese Bombers were seen to be approaching from a northerly direction and I was informed by the first Officer Lieutenant P.P. Shellard R.N.V.R. that he had counted some 123. On sighting of aircraft the alarm was sounded and all non-naval personnel were ordered below. I myself was put into the corridor between the officers’ quarters forrard along with a number of other Army officers, and spare gun crews of the ship’s forward guns.