Horrie the War Dog

by Roland Perry

  ‘It’s a term the Australians used for Arabs in general. Can be a term of endearment, at times.’

  ‘I don’t care what it is. Produce the animal!’

  ‘Sir,’ Bartholemew began again, ‘there is a distinct difference between the alleged cat and the alleged dog.’

  ‘I know,’ Kelly said, breaking into a twisted grin, ‘one can climb trees and the other barks, right?’

  Bartholomew laughed politely.

  ‘Not exactly, Captain. The cat, I am told, was just an adored part of one company; a pet. Whereas I am led to believe that the alleged dog was an important part of an entire machine gun battalion.’ He began describing the reports of Horrie’s activities in saving lives but Kelly cut him short. He was furious.

  ‘When you do produce this goddamned dog,’ he said, ‘I am not going to throw it overboard. I am going to throw it in the ship’s furnace!’

  The cabin fell silent. From his manner, no one disbelieved him.

  ‘May I say something, Captain,’ Moody said, stepping forward and introducing himself, ‘I know there was much feeling towards this alleged—’

  ‘So you admit there is a dog, Private?’

  ‘No, sir, I am just reporting to you something very important about the mood of the boys of my battalion. They are close-knit and very tough men, sir. Very experienced fighters. If this dog exists and has done all the things claimed, including saving the lives of every one of them, then they will not take kindly to any threat to er . . . do what you just said, sir.’

  Kelly took a step towards Moody. ‘Is that some kind of threat, son?’ he asked, his manner fearsome.

  ‘No,’ Hewitt interjected, ‘Private Moody is trying to help you run a peaceful ship, Captain. There may be trouble if any alleged dog is harmed. And none of us want disharmony on your excellent vessel.’

  Kelly’s face boiled. Even his ears went red. But before he could explode, Bartholemew intervened: ‘And harmony is my job, as you know, Captain . . .’

  Kelly ignored Bartholemew and stepped closer to Moody. The captain looked as if he might strike him.

  ‘I want to hear from you, Private,’ he said, pointing at Moody with force, ‘what you are saying will happen if I throw the dog in the furnace!’

  ‘If there is a dog, Captain,’ Moody said, staring back at Kelly, ‘and if you throw it in the furnace . . .’

  ‘Come on, son, out with it!’

  ‘With respect, Captain, the men of my battalion are wild enough, when pushed to the limits, to dish out similar treatment. I am only letting you know, not as a threat, but as one who has been with these hard men fighting against the Nazis in Greece and Crete. I am only trying to be helpful. No one wants trouble. Not this close to home.’

  Kelly gaped. His face drained.

  ‘Did you say “similar treatment”? Are you suggesting that they would throw me in the furnace?!’ the captain asked in a mixed tone of haughtiness and anger.

  ‘I don’t think Private Moody meant that,’ Bartholomew said in a placatory tone.

  ‘No, no,’ Hewitt said, ‘he didn’t mean that, Captain.’

  ‘But I did mean that,’ Moody said, ‘not as a threat, but as an explanation of the consequence of any such action.’ Hewitt dismissed Moody and led him and Brooker out of the office, leaving Bartholemew to deal with the seething captain.

  *

  Kelly could not be calmed down. He slowed the ship until it was dead in the water and in sight of the mainland. The passengers soon learnt why they were not continuing into Fremantle. The ship sat in the water for four hours. After further threats and intimidations, Bill McMillan felt the pressure of the 8000 diggers enticingly in sight of Australia and their families and friends. He finally submitted Ooboo, in a cage, to the adjutant, Major Harrison.

  ‘I think you’d better not see this,’ the adjutant said. McMillan was visibly distressed. He hurried below deck. Harrison summoned the master-at-arms, Radcliffe, and handed the cage containing the unsuspecting Ooboo to him. Radcliffe then took the caged pet to the top deck and threw the cage over the side of the ship. He watched it sink below the waves, before reporting his duty done to the adjutant, who then told Kelly.

  ‘Good,’ Kelly remarked, ‘then to engines, Mr Adjutant, and full steam ahead for Fremantle.’ A day later, Bartholomew got word to Moody to visit his cabin in secret, and he told him: ‘I just wanted to let you know that Captain Kelly is not going to make any special search for that, er . . . alleged dog. Amidst all the bluff and bluster, he took your word of caution seriously, although he would never admit it. His little face-saving comment was that he wanted the ship to remain a harmonious one so close to our boys making it home.’

  ‘You don’t know how pleased I am to hear that, Captain, thank you.’

  ‘Of course, he could boast that he got his way with poor Ooboo.’

  ‘It’s a pity we could not have saved the cat. He was a special, brave little fella. Didn’t see much of him because he and Horrie weren’t close. But on all accounts from C Company, he was terrific.’

  ‘What an ego that Kelly has! Stops his ship off the coast to put pressure on 8000 diggers, who’ve given their all for their country and the Allied cause in combat! All over a sweet little moggie!’

  ‘I just wondered how you managed to persuade him not to keep his threat to find and burn Horrie?’

  ‘I really just extended or modified your words. I emphasised again Horrie’s importance to the battalion. I reminded him of how fit he thought the gunners were when he saw them exercising on the deck; how some, although not all, had their weapons with them. I sowed the seed of what even the mildest munity on his ship would do to his reputation and how it would look from far-off US Military HQ in Washington; how the publicity would paint him as, using the American colloquialism, “the bad guy” for throwing innocent little pets overboard. He knew it was my job to deal with this sort of thing and keep the peace. After the steam stopped coming out of his ears, he saw my point of view.’ Bartholemew paused and chuckled. ‘But it was your wonderful, gutsy bluff that really put the wind up his kilt.’ He scrutinised Moody’s face. ‘It was a bluff, wasn’t it?’

  ‘No,’ Moody said, ‘it wasn’t. I canvassed many members of the battalion, not just my platoon. They have no particular allegiance to Captain Kelly. But they do to Horrie. If he was killed the way described, I don’t just believe they would take similar action against the captain; I know it.’

  Bartholemew blinked. He was stunned. After a few seconds he raised his eyebrows and nodded. ‘Just a word in advance so if anything happens it does not come as a shock to you,’ he said, ‘Captain Kelly will be making out a report on the events that occurred in his cabin. Your remarks will figure in that report. There may be repercussions if your words about throwing him in the furnace are taken seriously by the Australian authorities.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’

  ‘Yes, but these things always look worse on paper. Some petty little Canberra bureaucrat might wish to demonstrate his power.’

  ‘I really don’t care. I just want to put two feet on Aussie soil.’

  ‘You mean six feet,’ Bartholemew said, with a grin.

  *

  The USS West Point stopped at Fremantle on 26 March 1942 to let the Western Australian diggers and gunners off and there was no shore leave for the rest. The Americans were making their presence felt. Catalina flying boats could be seen wobbling into their new base at Crawley Bay on Perth’s Swan River. American soldiers were putting up anti-aircraft guns on Fremantle Wharf. The USS Pengrove could be seen sailing away from the dock to make way for the huge USS West Point after depositing an advance contingent of the US 197th Coastal Artillery, which had both machine gunners and artillery men. All this activity drove it home to the new arrivals of the 6th Division that they were most likely to be back in action soon.

  It was an important time for American–Australian relations. Across the other side of the country on the same day, General Bl
amey, Australia’s top military commander, arrived from the Middle East to meet American General Douglas MacArthur, who would be the Allied commander in the Pacific leading the counterattack to the Japanese dominance in the region.

  The next morning West Point anchored at Port Adelaide and there was to be no kit inspection before leaving the ship. It seemed that Captain Kelly was not concerned any more with what the diggers carried once they left his charge.

  The Rebels, as they had done in several countries, closed ranks around Moody and his pack as they walked down the gangway, just in case there was a last-minute hitch. But there was none. The battalion was marched to the picturesque Adelaide Cricket Oval where they would have temporary billets. Once there, Moody released a grateful Horrie. Much to the delight of clapping and cheering Rebels and gunners, his first act on Australian soil was to race straight for the nearest gum tree.

  23

  THE CONTINUING

  COVER-UP

  The Rebels voted that Horrie should become the sole responsibility of Moody, although they all made a pledge to do what they could to protect the dog, should there be trouble over their schemes to secrete him into Australia. As soon as Moody was granted leave in mid-April 1942 he took Horrie by train to Melbourne to stay with his father Henry in East St Kilda. Henry had taught his son much about dogs and he had an immediate rapport with Horrie, despite his civvies. A companion of Henry’s, Dianne Winslow, wasn’t so fortunate. Horrie still had a blind spot about females, or as Moody pointed out, ‘anyone in a dress.’

  ‘Remember, he only ever knew “family” from men in Australian uniform and slouch hats,’ Moody tried to explain to Dianne, who disliked being cornered by a growling, snarling Horrie. ‘His vision of the enemy was anyone in Arab garb—you know, long flowing robes—and by extension, people in dresses.’

  ‘I’m not switching to long pants for him or you or anyone,’ Dianne said with some indignation.

  ‘He’s a real war dog; a true warrior,’ Moody told Henry and Dianne. ‘He has been bombed, strafed, and probably beaten in his first few months. He is on a state of war footing just like me, except that I can’t take him with me any more. We’ll be fighting up in the islands pretty soon, or at least that’s the drum.’

  ‘Well I wish you’d take him with you,’ Dianne said. ‘Those eyes when he is angry! They are aflame, like the devil’s!’

  It took much cajoling by father and son for Dianne to come around to accepting Horrie’s hostility. The dog was not coming halfway and refused to go near her. It was fortunate that Dianne did not live with Henry and only he could feed or take him for a walk down to nearby Green Meadow Gardens. Dianne made sure she was never alone when she visited the Moody home. She was not the only one experiencing Horrie’s wrath. The local milkman, in his white uniform, and his horse and cart received a working over. The postman on his bike had to run the gauntlet every day in the otherwise aptly named Meadow Street. Horrie would streak out of number 28 and make a dive for the postman’s ankle. The postman complained and, when Horrie was kept in the house one day, he asked Moody about the dog’s breed.

  ‘He’s a er . . . terrier-cross,’ Moody replied, being careful not to add the word ‘Egyptian.’

  ‘I’d call him a very cross terrier,’ the postman remarked, his eyes flicking to the Moodys’ front yard, as if he expected the low-flying white missile to appear any moment.

  ‘He’s only been around since you’ve been home,’ the postman added suspiciously. ‘You didn’t pick him up in Africa or the Middle East, did you?’

  ‘No. It’s a family pet left with us now.’

  ‘Pet? Mate, I’ve been nipped by plenty of dogs, but yours has the sharpest teeth. He left me with lacerations last time. If it happens again, I’ll have to tell the police and they’ll put him down.’

  Henry and Moody responded by making sure that Horrie was kept inside or chained up when the postman made his daily run.

  The serious threat from Japanese invasion, first on Australian-controlled territory in New Guinea and Papua, and also on the mainland, continued through April and Moody received orders to make his way to Ingleburn south of Sydney for a reassembling of the battalion. His parting from Horrie was a difficult moment. Man and dog had been more or less inseparable during nearly all of the dog’s 15 months of life. Moody was consoled by knowing that Horrie had a good home and would be looked after royally. But the little dog remained agitated when he noticed Moody preparing his kit. He tried to climb into the pack, and was annoyed not to be allowed to do so. Horrie refused to eat his food and had a mournful expression on his sensitive face the evening before Moody was due to leave. The next morning, when an army truck arrived, Henry had Horrie on a leash. The dog barked and howled in protest as Moody boarded the truck and waved goodbye.

  *

  On 4 May 1942, the Rebels were together again, except for Murchison, whose fate or whereabouts were still unknown, although the group had heard rumours that he had been in action in Java against the Japanese as a member of the 7th Division. But still, half a year after he swapped divisions to see action, there was no definitive word on his fate or whereabouts. Rumours in war were so frequent that they were often discounted.

  Just after some heavy rain on the Ingleburn camp, Moody, Gill and Bruce McKellary went for a long walk on a beach road. It was a cool May evening. Bush smells of eucalypts, acacias and other flora mingled. A kangaroo bounded from the beach to the bush 30 metres ahead. A kookaburra made its distinctive cry and another answered.

  ‘Isn’t it great to be laughed at by birds again?’ Moody remarked.

  ‘Not for long,’ McKellary responded. ‘You blokes will be pushed up to Moresby. But I don’t know what will happen with us. The Japanese prefer bikes to tanks. Our regiment may even be disbanded.’

  ‘Don’t think so,’ Gill said. ‘They won’t use tanks in New Guinea. But if the Japs hit the mainland you will be needed all right.’

  ‘You got Horrie in okay, we hear,’ McKellary said with a sly grin. ‘Heard a rumour that you threatened to throw the ship’s captain in the furnace after he threatened to do that to Horrie.’

  ‘Not quite the way it happened,’ Moody mumbled.

  ‘That’s the long and short of it,’ Gill said.

  ‘Jesus! I didn’t have the guts to do that!’ McKellary said.

  ‘Did you get Imshi in?’ Moody asked.

  McKellary looked around as if someone might hear him. But there was nobody in sight. ‘Quarantine officials are bastards,’ he said. ‘We got her off the ship, then took a train to Melbourne and had to make a cops-and-robbers dash with her to a safe house in Collingwood. We just squeezed her out a back-gate when two blokes in suits arrived with two cops to “arrest” her.’

  ‘Is she safe now?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Smuggled her to a mate in the country.’

  Moody smiled and clapped McKellary on the back.

  ‘That’s terrific!’

  ‘But I can’t be with her. Not while I’m in service.’

  ‘Same for me. Horrie’s with my father in Melbourne. I miss the little blighter already.’

  ‘Cops would love to have arrested me, but they had no evidence I’d ever had her. I stuck to the story that she had disappeared on the ship. Told them I suspected someone had thrown her overboard. They asked a lot of questions about how I picked her up; where she had been with the regiment. They took a lot of notes. I kept it vague.’

  ‘Vague is good,’ Gill observed.

  ‘Yes, and sticking to a good story and a good plan,’ Moody added.

  ‘You know, Moods,’ McKellary said, with a smile of admiration, ‘you’d make a good general, especially telling a bastard Yank ship commander you’d throw him in a furnace! You’re a legend!’

  ‘Pity I’m just a lowly private.’

  ‘Who loves dogs.’

  *

  A second front loomed closer for the 6th Division as a mighty sea fight—the Battle of the Coral Sea—took place on 7-8 May
1942 just off Australia’s north-west coast. The Japanese had been on their way to take New Guinea’s important south coast port at Moresby, but an American-Australian armada intercepted them. While losses were about even, the Allies won an important strategic victory by preventing the enemy from reaching Moresby. It was more than a blood-nose for the Japanese admiralty and the first setback in its six months rule of the Pacific Ocean. Yet it didn’t stop Japan’s relentless military drive and on 31 May, three midget submarines attacked Sydney Harbour with the aim of sinking the battle cruiser USS Chicago. Launched from a mother submarine, the midgets penetrated the harbour’s slack defences. They missed their target but caused much chaos, including the torpedoing of an Australian service ship, Kuttabul, killing 21 on board.

  The 2/1 Machine Gun Battalion at Ingleburn was fully operational but was only alerted the next morning after the wild night on Sydney Harbour in which the midget subs attacked and onshore and ship defences retaliated.

  When Brooker, Fitzsimmons, Moody and Gill were in Ingleburn buying newspapers in the morning, a breathless newsagent told them the rumours about the subs in the Harbour hours earlier.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Fitzsimmons said, looking at the headlines that had nothing about the attack, ‘can’t have been too bad; hasn’t made the front page.’

  ‘But it’s really serious, isn’t it?’ the newsagent asked.

  He and a few other customers in the shop looked surprised, even shocked, by the careless attitude of these men in uniform. Seeing this, Brooker remarked for all to hear: ‘It’s not like waves of Luftwaffe attacking with bombs and machine guns. I mean every day. That’s what we call serious.’

  24

  TO THE FRONT AND BACK

  In June 1942, a month after the Battle of the Coral Sea, the Americans and the Japanese fought a mighty sea battle at Midway in the Pacific, which looked to be a defining conflict in the Pacific War. The USA inflicted a major defeat on the Japanese navy, which had to retreat, lick its wounds and rebuild. This pushed the pendulum of power in the Japanese military hierarchy back to the Japanese army. It wrested back its prime position in its battles with the Allies, and the Japanese navy was forced to play a less significant role for the first time in the Pacific War.