Judy, Prisoner of War

by Laurie Calkhoven

  Believe me, I thought, I’m never going to do that again.

  My usual habit was to wander around the ship at night and choose a place to sleep, but that night I stuck close to the CPO. I needed a peaceful rest after all the excitement.

  The next few days were exactly that—peaceful. We steamed along upriver, waving to French and British ships going the other way. I curled my lip and growled when four Japanese warships passed by us. I recognized their uniforms. And their flag.

  Kickers, I thought.

  We pressed on until we passed Nanking, China’s capital, and reached a small settlement called Wuhu. That meant expeditions on shore. There was a Navy canteen that served ice cream, and let me tell you, it was delicious!

  Too soon we continued upriver, into a land of steep gorges. The walls towered above us on either side of the river. One night, far from any settlement, we were forced to lay anchor in one of those wild, unpopulated gorges. There was no sign of danger, but I slept on deck anyway—just in case. Something told me to be on the alert.

  Around three o’clock in the morning, I heard something that wasn’t right. I shrugged off my blanket and sat up.

  There it was again. A quiet, sneaky noise.

  Living on the streets of Shanghai had taught me about danger and how to sense when it was near. I knew something threatening was coming toward us.

  Pirates!

  Human ears are about as useful as their noses. I knew the officer on watch didn’t hear the danger, so I started to bark.

  He tried to shush me. “Quiet, girl, you’ll wake everyone up.”

  I’m not stopping until you pay attention, I barked.

  Thankfully, he did. He directed a signal light in the direction I was pointing and trained it on the river. Finally, he saw what was coming—two large pirate junks, or flat-bottomed boats, drifting silently toward us.

  Not so silently that my super-powerful ears didn’t hear you, I thought.

  Now that he saw the danger, I did what the watch officer asked and shushed.

  Won’t those pirates be surprised when they try to board the ship!

  The officer fired one shot into the sky. Within seconds the Gnat’s deck was full of pajama-wearing sailors ready to fight. It would have been a funny scene if real danger wasn’t heading right toward us.

  The pirates weren’t as smart as me. Either they didn’t know they had been spotted or they were too far into their criminal plan to turn back. The junks came along either side of the Gnat, snagging us in the long bamboo rope that stretched from one of the pirate vessels to the other.

  The minute that rope hit our prow, the Gnat’s machine guns opened fire. Even so, the shadowy figures rose up and tried to board our ship, only to be met with more gunfire.

  Now I felt perfectly free to bark and snarl at a pirate who jumped onto our deck.

  He froze and backed up.

  Be afraid, I warned him. Be very afraid.

  Some of the Gnat’s sailors chopped away at the rope that was meant to trap us between the two pirate ships. As they broke through, the junks slipped into the darkness, pulled by the fast-moving current. The pirate under my watch jumped into the river to try to catch his ship.

  I’ve been in that water, I thought. You’re not going to make it.

  When it was all over, we celebrated our victory. Tankey gave me a bone he had been saving for a special occasion and the watch officer made sure everyone knew that I had saved the day.

  “You might not be a hunter,” CPO Jeffery said, giving me a rubdown, “but you sure are expert at knowing when danger lurks in the water.”

  It turned out I was an expert at sensing danger from the sky, too. The Japanese had become more and more aggressive. They had already taken over Manchuria and Korea, and now they set their sights on China. They wanted to control China’s natural riches, like oil, and they were willing to fight anyone to get them—including us.

  One day we were docked alongside the HMS Bee, another British Navy ship, when a very important human came on board. I could tell by the way the seamen had scrubbed everything in sight that something big was going to happen, and then we all stood on deck as a man in a fancy uniform with lots of ribbons walked up the gangplank. We were being inspected.

  He stopped in front of a lot of my men and made comments that I could tell they didn’t like. He barely looked at me, even though I was sitting at attention and giving him my best smile.

  He was putting the sailors through drills when I sensed something bad was coming. A buzzing sound. A new one.

  Danger! I barked. Danger in the sky!

  The fancy admiral glared at me, and the skipper tried to get me to be quiet.

  I can’t be quiet. Danger is coming, I barked.

  And I didn’t stop. If anything, I got louder. Then I pointed in the direction of the sound.

  As I’ve said, humans’ ears are practically useless. They looked where I was pointing and finally saw the black speck in the distance. It was a Japanese warplane, and as it came near, the plane swooped much too low, right over the Gnat and the Bee, before rising again and disappearing into the distance. It was sending us a message, trying to scare us. But we didn’t scare that easy.

  The admiral watched it go and then finally showed me some respect. “Remarkable,” he said, looking at me. “The time is coming, I fear, when we all may need a dog like this stationed on the ship’s bridge.”

  It’s about time you noticed!

  Even though I had proved myself an expert at sensing danger on the river and in the skies, those silly seamen were still surprised when I proved I could protect them on land, too.

  We were docked in Hankow, where our orders were to fly the flag and protect the city. It was a fun assignment. There was lots of entertainment—not to mention ice cream—in the city. I joined a sailors’ club, the Strong Toppers’ Club, with my men. It was a place where we went to play games and relax. I howled along when they sang their club song:

  Strong Toppers are we

  On the dirty Yangtze

  Gunboats or cruisers

  We’re here for a spree.

  There was other fun to be had, too. There were games of rugby and soccer and field hockey with other ships. I was really good at scoring goals, even if I did sometimes score for the other team.

  But my favorite thing in Hankow was the long runs I took with my seamen, especially CPO Jeffery and Vic Oliver, who had saved me from drowning. It was on one of those runs that I proved I could take care of my guys no matter what.

  Jeffery and I were out for a walk on a Hankow road. We soon left the city behind. The dense jungle that stretched along the Yangtze was on our left, and I could smell the river a short distance away. And then I smelled something else.

  Danger!

  An animal was stalking us—stalking Jeffery. It wasn’t a deer. We had already spotted one of those and it was harmless. This was a new smell. It was musky and big and I smelled hunger behind it. Something hungry had its eyes on my man.

  I left Jeffery and darted into the jungle to scare it away, but stopped short when I found it.

  Uh-oh. This thing isn’t going to be afraid of me.

  This new thing was some kind of big cat and it was covered in spots. It opened its mouth wide and hissed in warning when it saw me, and I saw lots of sharp teeth. But I guess it didn’t want trouble. It turned its back on me and took two slow steps deeper into the forest. Then it looked at me over its shoulder through narrowed eyes.

  I yelped with fear and relief as it padded away.

  Jeffery called to me and I burst out of the jungle, trembling all over. He tried to get me to slow down and walk by his side, but I darted toward Hankow, forcing him to run to keep up. I knew he had to run or that big cat could come after us again.

  He got the message and hurried after me.

  After a while we turned and I saw it again, lurking on the side of the road, half-hidden by the jungle. Jeffery saw it, too, and we picked up our pace. It wasn’t
until we got back to town that I learned the cat’s name.

  “Judy saved me from a forest leopard today,” Jeffery told everyone. “She risked her life to save mine.”

  Of course I did, I thought. That’s my job.

  By July 1937, the Japanese stopped simply acting aggressive and started bombing Chinese cities. It began with a small battle, which they used as an excuse to drop their bombs and bring lots of troops into China.

  In August, the Imperial Japanese Army set its sights on Shanghai. One million Japanese soldiers, backed by Japan’s navy and air force, were on the outskirts of the city. Planes dropped bombs on the Chinese, and they were forced to abandon Shanghai.

  On the Yangtze we were untouched—at least for now—but it was hard to see our Chinese friends suffer. Our job hadn’t changed. It wasn’t England’s war to fight. So we continued patrolling the river to protect English merchant ships and English citizens in China.

  We teamed up with an American gunboat, the USS Panay, and stuck to the river’s main channel between Shanghai and Hankow. We avoided the places farther inland with their steep gorges and wild, unprotected lands, not to mention pirates.

  I liked the Americans and they liked me. One night we were all out in one of the small riverside villages when the Americans decided they liked me so much they wanted to keep me. At the end of the night, they brought me back to their ship. I could hear poor Tankey stumbling around the riverbank, calling my name. I barked to let him know where I was.

  I’m here, Tankey. With the Americans.

  Those silly human ears of his didn’t hear me.

  Tankey didn’t know where I was until the next day. A villager who did some work on the Panay saw me and let him know. Tankey demanded my return.

  “We don’t have your dog,” the Americans lied. “She must still be in the village.”

  I don’t think the Americans would have kept me forever, but their trick was going on too long. I had a good time at first, and they fed me some pretty good chow, but I was tired of being hidden away belowdecks. And I missed my men.

  That night, I heard quiet, sneaky noises. But they weren’t pirate noises. I suspected it was Tankey, so I didn’t bark. I smelled him first and then heard him slip aboard like a pirate.

  I’m here, friend. Come and find me.

  But instead of searching for me, Tankey stayed on deck.

  I hope you’re playing a trick to get me back, I thought.

  The next morning, the Americans got out of bed to discover that their ship’s bell was stolen in the night.

  Gotcha!

  After much conversation and worry that they would get into trouble with their skipper, the Americans sent a signal to the Gnat: “Boarded in the night by pirates. Ship’s bell stolen.”

  The Gnat replied, “We were also pirated—of Judy. Will swap one bell belonging to USS Panay for one lady named Judy, property of officers and ship’s company of HMS Gnat.”

  The exchange was made a few minutes later. The Americans walked me down the gangway and we met Tankey and the bell on the dock. I jumped on Tankey and gave him a good lick. You can’t blame the Americans for wanting me. But I was loyal to my men and they were loyal to me.

  I hoped the two ships would have many years of fun together, but the Japanese, with much of China now under their power, soon turned their aggression on us.

  In December 1937, the USS Panay left us to sail to Nanking to evacuate the Americans still in the war-torn capital city. The gunboat was carrying members of the American embassy and escorting American cargo ships down the Yangtze. Suddenly, bombs starting falling all around them. Three oil-carrying ships were hit and set on fire. And the Panay, the ship where I had had such a jolly time during my “dognapping,” sank to the bottom of the river. Most of the people on board made it to safety on the lifeboats, but the Panay would never sail again.

  On the same day, Japanese airplanes zoomed out of nowhere to drop their bombs on our sister ship, HMS Ladybird, and the British steamships she was protecting. Then they let loose with big guns hidden on the riverbank. The Bee raced to her rescue, but the Ladybird had been hit repeatedly. Some of my friends were killed. Many more were injured.

  Everyone was shocked and angry. The American and British governments protested, but the Japanese said the attacks on our ships were an accident. They claimed they had mistaken our ships—with their big American and British flags painted on their sides—for Chinese gunboats.

  That’s a big fat lie! I thought angrily.

  In the end, Japan accepted responsibility and repaid the governments for the ships, but life became a lot more difficult for the western ships and the western people in China.

  Still, it was worse for our Chinese friends. Nanking fell to Japan on December 13. We heard terrible reports about what was happening to the people left behind, but we were powerless to help.

  The next year, 1938, was full of small clashes with the Japanese. We made sure to fly our British flag, but we were always ready to open up our antiaircraft guns if we had to. It wasn’t unusual for Japanese officers to board the Gnat and other western ships, looking for Chinese who might be in hiding, or because they believed they had been insulted in some way. I had never forgotten that it was Japanese sailors who had gone after me when I was a puppy in Mr. Soo’s shop, and I could tell by the way they looked at me now that most of them would have done the same thing.

  Just try it, I snarled. I’m a lot bigger than I was then, and so are my teeth.

  It wasn’t long before Tankey and Jeffery started confining me belowdecks whenever the Japanese came on board.

  I thought the Japanese were my biggest problem, but then I learned I would have to say goodbye to my best friends. My favorite humans had to leave the Gnat for new ships, including Tankey, Jeffery, and Oliver, the man who had saved me from the river when I fell overboard.

  Each of them gave me a good pet before they left, and I licked their hands one last time. It was sad, and I knew I would miss them. But I was the ship’s dog, so I had to stay with the ship.

  I’ll take care of the Gnat, I told them. Those new humans are going to need me to show them the ropes.

  And they did.

  Two of the new men who came on board—Seaman Law and Seaman “Bonny” Boniface—showed some promise as best friends, so I spent most of my time with them. They were the ones who noticed when I fell in love.

  French and American gunboats, the Francis Garnier and the USS Tutuila, had docked opposite us in Hankow. Even though there was still tension with the Japanese, the sailors had a good time together. There were parties and rifle matches and a lot of teasing. There was also a very handsome English pointer on the Francis Garnier named Paul. Paul was so handsome, in fact, that he looked almost exactly like me, just bigger.

  Paul took one look at me and fell in love. Who can blame him? But I played hard to get. He spent a lot of time showing off to get my attention whenever I was on deck or on the riverbank, running from one end of his ship to another at top speed. He was running so fast one day that he flew right off the bow and into the harbor!

  Help! I barked. Dog overboard!

  I ran down the gangway with Bonny right behind me.

  The harbor wasn’t anywhere near as rough as the choppy waves I had fallen into, and Paul was a strong swimmer. He swam right toward me, and Bonny pulled him from the water.

  I felt sorry for Paul and licked his face to make sure he was okay. And that’s when I fell in love. Even the humans could see we were made for each other.

  That afternoon, Bonny and a few of the other sailors sat me down for a talk.

  “We’ve decided you can get engaged today, and if all goes well, you’ll be married tomorrow,” Bonny said. “But only on one condition—that you name your first pup Bonny.”

  I agreed, of course, and Bonny slipped a silver anklet over my left paw.

  “That is your engagement ring,” he said.

  The next day, Bonny and one of the French sailors marr
ied us. All of the humans cheered and clapped.

  “I am pleased to pronounce you …” Bonny stopped and looked around. “What should I call them?” he asked.

  A Frenchman yelled, “One! Call them one.”

  “I am pleased to pronounce you one,” Bonny said.

  And that’s how I became a married lady. Paul and I had a three-day honeymoon on the Gnat, and then Paul was led back to the Francis Garnier. He protested, but I understood. We were ships’ dogs and had to stay with our ships. He would have company soon enough—our puppies! I was happy to become a mother, but I was scared for my pups because they were born during a war.

  Japanese warplanes flew overhead to bomb Chinese cities nearly every day. The Japanese kept their promise to leave the western gunboats alone, but I snarled at the sky every time the warplanes went by.

  Planes thundered across the sky the very day my puppies were born. Ten beautiful English pointer puppies. Only this time, the Japanese dropped their bombs in the river all around us.

  Help! I barked, circling my body around my brand-new puppies. Help!

  It was as if the Chinese heard me. There was a different buzzing sound, and Chinese fighter planes chased the Japanese away. We were safe—for now. Once again the Japanese claimed it was an accident.

  Another lie, I thought.

  My puppies grew strong in spite of the Japanese. Everyone from the surrounding ships came to admire them. It wasn’t long before they were exploring every corner of the Gnat on their chubby little legs, just as I had explored Shanghai. Watching them made everyone happy, something we all needed more of with war waging all around us.

  Too soon, my puppies were big enough to leave me. One dog was a fine mascot for a gunship, but eleven were too many. I knew my puppies would have to join ships of their own, so when the Francis Garnier came back to Hankow from operations downriver, I was happy to see two of my pups go to live with their father. Others went to protect the British consulate in Hankow and to American ships. I was sad for a while, but I knew they were doing important work.