Horrie the War Dog

by Roland Perry

  The others went on eating without speaking for some time as they reflected on Brooker’s burst of profundity.

  ‘I know what I want to be reincarnated as,’ Fitzsimmons said, breaking the silence.

  They all smiled in anticipation of a ‘Fitzism.’

  ‘What?’ Moody asked. ‘A war dog?’

  ‘Yes, Moods, you mind-reader! But not in a gunners’ battalion. I’d prefer the nurses’ contingent.’

  20

  ENTER JAPAN

  Horrie was well enough to accompany Moody and Gill on a hunting trip a few days later on 8 December in the Lebanese mountains, although the men were not quite sure about what their prey would be. There was talk from the locals about wild animals such as wolves, foxes and gazelles, but for most the expedition was more in hope than expectation. They were led by a local 17-year-old Syrian guide, whose family they would stay with. In the first hours of the trek the most exciting discovery was an old broken Vichy French tank. Horrie explored it with his usual fervour.

  The little hunting party moved on up a mountain until they encountered a big wolf. It stood about ten metres away, blocking their path. Horrie bent low and took a few paces forward, protecting the two Rebels. Gill trained his rifle on the wolf, while Moody hurried to free his camera from a backpack.

  ‘Stand fast!’ Moody commanded Horrie, whose ears flicked back in recognition only. Moody managed a couple of quick snaps with Horrie in the foreground and the wolf looking on with almost a detached air. It seemed more curious than ready to flee or attack, and Horrie was his main focus. Moody stepped forward to stop Horrie, but the dog anticipated his move and made his dash at the far bigger animal, with the three humans following up. The wolf turned and bolted down the mountainside, with Horrie snapping at his heels. They raced through bushes, sidestepping boulders and rocks. Moody and Gill were yelling at Horrie to stop, realising that if the wolf made a stand, Horrie would be killed. But the wolf’s flight pumped up Horrie’s courage and he took a dive at the wolf’s foot. He latched onto it. But that was enough for the wolf. He stopped and swung his jaws down to grip Horrie by the neck and shake him, just as the others tumbled into the two animals. The wolf’s hold was broken and he ran off. This time Moody was quicker. He grabbed Horrie. Gill fired a warning shot in the air and the wolf was soon out of sight. But Horrie was ready to make hot pursuit. He knew he would catch the scent and while his neck was studded with teeth marks, he was ready to fight to the death. Moody hung on for another half-hour as the fearless little terrier showed that somewhere in his genetic make-up he was a real hunter, perhaps in packs after bigger animals such as wolves or even lions in the Libyan desert.

  They stayed overnight at the mountain home of the young guide and then returned down the mountain and back to battalion base and news that would affect all of them. On 7 December 1941, the Japanese had attacked the American territory of Pearl Harbor, in Hawaii, which extended war into the Pacific and changed the entire dynamic of the global conflict. Even more alarming for the Australians were Japan’s concurrent concerted strikes on Thailand, Malaya and Singapore. The 2nd AIF’s 8th Division of 27,000 diggers stationed in Singapore was now under threat.

  Everyone at Zaboude agreed that it could spell the end of the 6th Division’s fighting in the Middle East. The Japanese attacks in the Pacific and closer to home in South-East Asia made this a near certainty. Yet no new directives arrived before Christmas. Snow fell and made life more difficult for all the men. Horrie was too low to the ground to walk through the snow and had to make the effort to bound and leap everywhere. If the Rebels were detailed to chip ice off the road or shovel snow away, Horrie would be at hand to guard their equipment and clothes and more than earned his way with hard running while carrying wireless messages in a leather tobacco-pouch from the Signals office to HQ. He was also a help in passing telephone lines through culverts under a road. The line would be attached to his collar. One Rebel would hold him at the culvert’s entrance. Moody would call him from the other end. No matter how claustrophobic or tiny the culvert, Horrie would run, slide or crawl through it and be pleased with his own efforts when rewarded with a pat, a compliment or even a biscuit. He was more effective than a mountain goat charging down mountains and hills with lines again attached. His popularity reached new heights when he couriered London Reuter’s news, translated from Morse code courtesy of Harlor’s modified wireless, to groups of gunners in different areas of the camp.

  Moody used all his dog-teaching experience to instruct Horrie, but it usually only took one lesson. He had always believed Rudyard, a red setter he had trained in Australia, was the smartest animal he had ever encountered. But now after a year with Horrie under tutelage, he was beginning to change his mind.

  ‘He is so quick on the uptake,’ Moody told the others one day on the road during a smoko break, ‘and when you combine it with his courage and risk-taking, it now puts him out in front of any creature I’ve ever experienced. He is prepared to do anything you ask, if he trusts you. And he trusts every single one of us.’

  ‘You mean every damned digger,’ Fitzsimmons observed, ‘as long as he has on at least army issue underwear.’

  *

  The mood in the camp changed further when Harlor’s ‘special’ radio picked up the shocking news that on 10 December 1941 the Japanese had sunk the two large British battleships, The Prince of Wales and Repulse, which had been sent by the British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, to bolster Singapore. It was a huge blow to the Allied cause and a fright for Australia, which was looking vulnerable and unprotected. Three of its four combat divisions were in the Middle East and a long way from home, while the fourth (8th Division) was in Singapore and about to face the Japanese onslaught in Malaya. Americans were slipping into Brisbane and Melbourne over the New Year, but they were not combat troops. Should the Japanese decide to attack Australia, they would find little resistance. This situation began to create frustration among the gunners in Syria. By late in January 1942, and with the knowledge that the battalion would be moving soon, each man became disgruntled over the conditions. The beauty of the snow settled on the mountains and their village like a white crocheted blanket was less and less compensation for these diggers for being so isolated and far away from any action. This was especially as their own country was now in danger from marauding Japanese forces who were every day slicing their way through Malaya en route to Singapore. Daily reports via Harlor’s radio told of countries falling like dominoes to the Japanese in South-East Asia and the Pacific. Doubts were mounting in BBC radio broadcasts about the alleged impregnability of the so-called island fortress of Singapore. The weather took its toll on Horrie again after two months. The icy surface affected his feet and he was not able any more to be the diligent news messenger. Moody applied Vaseline to ease his difficulty but this did not work. As ever, the Rebels ingenuity and indulgence came to the fore to assist. Shegog and Featherstone fashioned a wooden sledge with a rope attached, and each member took it in turns to ferry him to various locations so he would stay with the Rebels and remain on duty. But his courier days were over in this frozen region.

  *

  Just at the point where some of the men were talking about going AWL south to sunnier climes in Palestine, the order came to move out. There was no official word on immediate or ultimate destinations but speculation among the diggers mounted. Bets were laid on them ending up in Singapore aiding the British army, and particularly Australia’s beleaguered 8th Division, or Java, or Australia itself. The least popular possible destination was Libya again, and many diggers swore they would go permanently AWL if plonked there once more. Fitzsimmons reflected the general feeling when he remarked in a letter home to a relative: ‘The word “desert” has two meanings when it comes to Libya: too much boring barren sand, and quitting the army. They are somehow fused in this instance.’

  *

  In early February 1942, the battalion prepared to leave. Moody took Horrie over to the Anti-Tank Regiment
so he could have a final romp with Imshi.

  ‘Who knows if they will ever meet again?’ McKellary said as the two dogs ran around in a sheltered area under trees.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Moody replied, ‘what were the odds they would meet in the first place?’

  The battalion convoy rolled out of the camp with Horrie standing on his hind legs in a truck at a window watching Imshi as they passed the regiment’s camp. He kept silent until she was out of sight, then he emitted a whine of discontent. Moody patted and consoled him.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he reassured him, ‘you’ll see Imshi again.’

  But Horrie’s look of agitation perhaps registered that he was not so sure. The second parting of the two put him off his food for several days but the battalion’s next location was a consolation for the lovesick one-year-old. To his and every gunner’s delight, a green-tinged base near Tel Aviv on the Mediterranean coast was their new temporary base. The men took time out to swim at the beach or visit the city. The Rebels visited a cinema one night. Horrie became the centre of attention for hundreds of diggers in attendance, not for alerting them to incoming Stukas, but for his antics in watching a movie. He stood on Moody’s lap, put his feet on the back of the seat in front, and watched every second of the films on the program, which included a short on Life in Palestine, and the 1940 Charlie Chaplin feature The Great Dictator. Much to the amusement of all around him, he growled at every animal that appeared on the screen in the short, with dogs, cattle and horses receiving a special reception of barks. His intense viewing for two hours without intermission or a break became more entertaining to the diggers than the films themselves. He remained irritated by anyone in civvies yet he became angry at the sight of Chaplin playing Hitler, causing a huge roar of approval for his response. At least a hundred diggers crowded around Horrie at the movie’s end. Moody was forced to field questions, which centred on the dog’s future. What would the Rebels be doing with the battalion’s mighty symbol?

  ‘I just don’t know, Dig,’ became Moody’s stock response. Even if he had worked out a plan, he was not about to let anyone in on it apart from fellow Rebels. On the bus ride back to camp, they discussed what should be done.

  ‘I know one thing,’ Moody remarked, ‘loose lips sink ships. Once we do have a plan, we tell know no one outside our group. Better still, we make up another story to throw everyone off the scent, okay?’

  Everyone agreed. Gill suggested that Horrie would be given to the (British) Palestine police station or ‘blockhouse’ at Ascalon, a few kilometres from their camp. These three-storey square buildings were fully stocked with food and water to allow the occupants to survive for at least a year. The buildings were positioned in strategic spots through the desert. Each one had a tall observation tower that could communicate with the next one if telephone lines went down. They were there primarily to put down any possible local Arab uprisings, and had been converted into mini-fortresses during the war.

  ‘All the police are Pommies and good blokes,’ Gill said, ‘and Moods and I have already had chats with them. They are pretty keen to take him on as their mascot.’

  The others looked stunned.

  ‘And what?’ Featherstone asked. ‘Leave him there?!’

  ‘Yes,’ Moody replied, ‘for about a week.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘We want everyone to think we’ve given him away and that we wanted him to avoid being destroyed. The order will be given very soon that all pets be killed.’

  ‘That way,’ Gill added, ‘everyone will think we’ve done the right thing by the dog.’

  The others liked the plan.

  ‘But how will you get him back?’ Shegog asked with a frown. ‘The British cops are not that stupid, are they?’

  ‘No, not stupid at all,’ Moody said.

  ‘We’ll find a way of retrieving him,’ Gill said, glancing at Moody, ‘just haven’t come to that bit yet.’

  The next morning they left Horrie with the police as planned. He became distressed when he saw Moody walking off without more than a pat and a goodbye hug. He sat, stood, circled the anteroom of the station and then began barking. It was a mixed sound of disbelief and surprise. But it also had a ring of distress. Moody found it tough to stride off to a borrowed motorbike for the drive back to camp. From then on he had to field hundreds of questions about Horrie. Some agreed that the solution was sensible and that it had saved his life. Others were disappointed, even surprised that Moody, who had managed to smuggle him through Egypt, Palestine, Greece, Crete and Syria and back to Palestine, had not devised a scheme to make the ultimate move with him back to Australia. But Moody, his bland, poker expression in play, acted the sad figure who ended each conversation by saying what a good home Horrie would have ‘with the local police, who were very kind and loving to him.’

  Most accepted the practicable, humane explanation, while only few expressed bitter disappointment. Just a couple of gunners were a little hostile. Barry the Butcher was so distressed that Moody had to take him aside and assure him with a nudge and a wink that everything would be okay.

  ‘I am going down to the cop shop with some meat for him,’ Barry replied, most relieved that his littlest mate, and lifesaver, was not be abandoned.

  While the butcher was showing his concern and love for Horrie early that afternoon, it was announced that all pets, ‘including dogs, cats, mice, snakes, monkeys, birds and any other creatures, living or otherwise, must be forfeited for destruction. The penalty for not doing so will be six months in prison in Palestine.’

  It was a typical wartime order: authoritarian, cold and efficient, and with no room for compromise, debate or concession. Every gunner knew that half a year in the brig would mean missing the boat home, which would be a high price for not turning in a pet bird, or even a dog.

  *

  Singapore fell to the Japanese on 15 February 1942, and 23,000 members of Australia’s 8th Division were taken prisoner, along with 50,000 more British troops. They were incarcerated in Changi prison. It was another huge shock for the Allies, and it shook every Australian citizen, member of the armed forces and politician. It meant that the nation was down to just three trained combat divisions—about 100,000 crack troops—but they were still out of the country and a long way away in the northern hemisphere. Prime Minister John Curtin ordered them to return, much to the chagrin of Churchill, who wanted these troops to remain in his much bigger war in Europe. Then on 19 February 1942, four days after the collapse of Singapore, the Japanese hit Darwin with 188 bombers and fighter aircraft. They flattened that city and sank 46 American and Australian ships in Darwin Harbour. The need for the nation’s top combat soldiers became urgent, for many in Canberra and the 2nd AIF believed that this destruction of Darwin (and the taking of Timor a few days later) was the prelude to attacking and annexing Australia. Certainly this was the immediate aim of Japan’s most successful soldier, General Yamashita, who masterminded and won Singapore for the Imperial Army using just 34,000 troops against 80,000 British combat troops. He was well supported in his thinking about securing Australia by several key Japanese admirals, who had taken control of the Pacific. Yamashita’s idea was simple and logistically smart. He wanted to remove Australia as a massive ‘floating aircraft carrier’ for an expected backlash from the USA after the attack on its territory of Hawaii.

  The sudden turn of events imperilling Australia led to a war of cables between Churchill and Curtin. This had an impact on the 7th Division, which was already heading into the Indian Ocean en route to Fremantle.

  *

  While these momentous events were building, the 6th Division was getting ready for its trip that would follow only a fortnight after the 7th Division, and Moody stepped up his own plans for Horrie to be with them. He began digging a hole two metres long, two metres deep and less than a metre wide under his bed. It was a long job and had to be done at night when buckets of sand would be spirited from the tent. Every Rebel pitched in and the hideaway
was prepared in several nights of exertion and subterfuge. A dish of water was placed in one corner and some old clothes and a cushion in another for Horrie’s maximum comfort in his blacked-out dungeon. Three thick wooden planks were placed over the hole. A cane mat, Moody’s old mattress, was rolled over the planks and the bed was slid over the top of that. It was all completed with the keenness of inmates attempting to tunnel from a maximum security prison. And the stakes were higher than that for an average prison break. If Horrie was found in the hole, he would be shot.

  On that fifth night, when the dog’s underground room was prepared, Moody hopped on a motorbike alone and roared off to Ascalon. He parked the bike in an alley close to the blockhouse in the centre of the town and walked down a narrow lane behind it. Moody sweated in the sultry night, mindful that he was about to ‘steal’ something from a police station. He could hear nothing at the rear of the station behind a high stone wall where there were cells and a small yard. He whistled and stood back in the shadows. Nothing. He whistled again, and called ‘Horrie’ hoarsely, in a half-yell and half-whisper. Then, to Moody’s surprise, he saw a white flash scuttling into the lane and charging for him. Moody picked up the writhing, yelping Horrie and dashed for his bike, and was off. He half-expected the police to come running out with their hand guns raised and giving a command to ‘Stop or I’ll shoot.’ But there was no response at all. Part one of Plan A was complete. Part two was to deposit the dog in the hole. With all the Rebels in a circle around Moody’s bed, Horrie was taught to stay in the darkness, aided by some bribing with meat purloined from the butcher. At first Horrie wagged his tail, thinking it was a new ‘fun’ game, but Moody’s tone—reserved for serious instruction—soon told him that this was a ‘command and obey’ moment. He responded with all the concentration of a Buddhist monk. His eyes remained fixed on Moody, looking for any extra clues from his master’s facial expression or hand movement that would help explain this ‘exercise.’