Smoky, the Dog That Saved My Life - Nancy Roe Pimm Biographies for Young Readers

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dogs needed to pass a physical examination along with a test to prove they were not gun-shy. Dogs for Defense accepted a wide range of breeds such as boxers, Dalmatians, and collies, along with German shepherds and Doberman pinschers. Dog owners sent letters and treats to the war zone to stay connected with their beloved pets.

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      OFF TO WAR

      Our bond with dogs is strengthened by contact, by greetings, and by the timing that lets us do things together. And that bond strengthens us as well.

      —Alexandra Horowitz, Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell, and Know1

      THE TROOPS boarded the Liberty ship, and the huge vessel passed under the Golden Gate Bridge and left San Francisco’s harbor. Called “ugly ducklings” by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Liberty ships were the workhorses of World War II, designed to carry large amounts of supplies and soldiers to the war zones. Due to high demand, entire ships were built in as little as four days.

      Once the ship was out in the open waters, it zigzagged back and forth in order to avoid torpedo fire from Japanese submarines. Bill’s stomach churned from rocking in the ocean swells. He stumbled into his bunk and slept most of the time, not even getting up to eat. He lay, thinking of Margie and writing her letters. Seventeen days later, the ship finally docked in Brisbane, Australia. Bill and the rest of the troops set up a temporary base camp, also called a casual camp.

      While the soldiers awaited their orders, the boredom suffocated them nearly as much as the humidity of the subtropical climate. On the second day ashore, a few of the soldiers invited Bill to join them at a nearby swimming hole. The men took turns swinging from a rope attached to a tree. They dropped into the cool water below, hooting and hollering.

      Liberty ships carried US troops and supplies to the war zones of WWII. Bill and his fellow troops traveled to Australia in 1943 on a ship similar to this one.

       US Government

      After a good swim, they headed back to the base. The sky darkened and rain fell. Seeking shelter from the storm, the soldiers ducked into a shower facility at the base camp. The men talked and joked as the wind howled. Then, in an instant, Bill found himself on the ground with his hands between his knees. When he looked up, his mouth dropped. A large tree, about two feet in diameter, had burst through the building, pinning the others beneath it. Bill ran his hand across his face to check for blood, but there was none. How am I the only one not hit by the tree? 2 The men moaned. Bill stood up and tried to free his buddies, but the heavy tree was immovable. Soon, more soldiers flocked to the scene to help the trapped men. All four men who had been pinned under the tree needed hospitalization. One had suffered a head injury; another was paralyzed from the waist down and would never walk again. Bill couldn’t believe the fate of his fellow soldiers. They hadn’t even made it to the war zone. Their war ended right there. Bill suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD): years later, just the sight of a tree caused him to shudder inside.

      Jungle landscape in New Guinea

       US Army Air Force 26th Photo Reconnaissance Squadron. Photo by John Aiken

      On December 21, 1943, Bill Wynne and hundreds of other soldiers set out in an ironclad wooden boat named the SS Contessa and motored along the Great Barrier Reef headed for New Guinea, a small island off the coast of Australia. The banana boat had been used to transport produce from one island to another; at the time it reeked of onions. They sailed past thousands of miles of coral reef, which served as a natural barrier for protection against submarine torpedoes.

      One week later, the soldiers reached the 5th Fighter Command of the 5th Air Force in Port Moresby. The commanding officers interviewed Bill to determine his skills. As a private first class, he would earn sixty-four dollars a month, with thirty-seven dollars of that amount to be sent back home. Eventually, he was sent to a base camp in Nadzab, New Guinea, where Bill met his tent mate, Ed Downey, a tall, confident athlete from Norristown, Pennsylvania. They shared a pyramid-shaped tent with a hill on one side and a jungle of tall trees and kunai grass on the other. The waist-high grass, full of barbs, scratched or snagged anyone who tried to pass. The soldiers had been warned that creatures of all sorts walked, crawled, hopped, or flew through the jungles. Pythons, some as long as thirty feet and large enough to swallow a full-grown pig, slithered along the ground. Kangaroos that climbed trees, carnivorous mice, and rats bigger than domestic cats roamed the jungle habitat. Even the smallest of creatures could kill. Soldiers had died after developing scrub typhus from a single tick bite.3

      The wildlife wasn’t the only danger they faced. Red alerts occurred several times a day, warning the soldiers of impending attacks. The soldiers dug holes, called foxholes, close to their tents to take cover during these alerts. In the evenings, searchlights swept the sky in search of enemy planes intent on bombing the nearby airstrips.

      One day, Bill entered a darkened tent and bumped into a small dog. Bill recalled their first meeting in his memoir, Yorkie Doodle Dandy. He wrote, “She was an unbelievable mite of a thing, spinning like a whirling dervish, jumping and bumping my legs.”4

      The base mechanic, Sergeant Dare, came into the tent and explained that the little dog tied to the tire had been found by Bill’s tentmate, Ed Downey. Downey’s vehicle had broken down alongside a primitive road. While he worked under the hood of his Jeep, he heard a strange yapping sound coming from the jungle. When his curiosity got the best of him, he tracked down the source of the noise: a pup frantically scratching the dirt in a foxhole about four feet deep. Downey scooped up the dog, tossed it in the back of his Jeep, and returned to the job of getting his vehicle to run. When he returned to base, he gave the dog to Dare.

      A Jeep passes under the base camp sign of the 26th Photo Reconnaissance Squadron in Nadzab, New Guinea.

       US Army Air Force 26th Photo Reconnaissance Squadron. Photo by John Aiken

      Smoky gets a haircut. The stray Yorkie was found in an abandoned foxhole in Nadzab, New Guinea, March 1944.

       © Smoky War Dog LLC. Photo by William A. Wynne

      Bill looked down at the stray dog; she tugged at his heartstrings. He offered to buy the dog from Dare for two pounds Australian money.

      “Make it three and she’s yours,” Dare answered.5

      Bill took a closer look at the malnourished little pooch. He wondered if she could survive such a harsh place as the war zone. Enemy fire from the air or land threatened at any time. What would she eat? How could he fight a war with this little dog in tow? Should he let his guard down and bond with an animal only to watch it die? With more questions than answers, Bill turned and walked away.

      That evening, Bill couldn’t sleep. He thought only of the dog. The sparkle in her eyes and the bounce in her steps kept running through his mind. But the odds of such a tiny thing surviving this brutal war seemed slim to none. He said a prayer for the dog and drifted off to sleep.

      The following day, Wynne developed picture after picture in the darkroom of the photo trailer. Bare-chested, clad only in shorts and sandals, he sweltered in the tropical heat.

      Dare knocked at the door, then let himself in. “Hey, Wynne, do you want to buy the dog for two pounds? I want to get back in a poker game tonight.”6

      Without a second thought, Bill

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