Man's Best Hero. Ace Collins
of the gas was ingested, a victim would die, but, even in small doses, the weapon had long-term effects on the body and mind. Once absorbed, the gas caused a wide variety of issues from lesions on the lungs to open body wounds. A nurse who worked in a field hospital described the way the victims suffered, “They cannot be bandaged or touched. We cover them with a tent of propped-up sheets. Gas burns must be agonizing because usually the other cases do not complain, even with the worst wounds, but gas cases are invariably beyond endurance and they cannot help crying out.” Those who survived the attacks often begged to die and those who died spent their last days in unbearable agony.
The gas that rolled into the trench where Stubby and the 102nd were fighting was a silent invader. The dog was the first to show the signs, as he began coughing and rolling in the dirt. Soon the men began itching and complaining their skin was on fire. Medics could do nothing and the victims were hurriedly shipped back to a hospital. Some of those exposed that day would die and many more would be unable to return to active duty. Even the men who managed to shake the effects would later have a myriad of health issues often including cancer.
Stubby was one of the lucky ones. Perhaps because he was low to the ground, he experienced only mild reactions to the gas. Within a couple of weeks he was back at Conroy’s side. Yet what happened on that day when the cloud of gas first found its way into the dog’s lungs would forever change the terrier and his role.
Even though Conroy and others ordered him to stay in the trenches, now Stubby refused to obey them. No longer did he bark to encourage his companions, instead, he perched on the top of trenches, remaining silent, his eyes forward and his ears cocked. And only when he heard the sound of gas being released or smelled the odor accompanying that sound did he move. Suddenly, with no warning, he became a barking bundle of energy racing from trench to trench, an energized ball of fur seemingly intent on reaching every soldier in the area.
At first the men thought Stubby had finally succumbed to what they called battle fatigue. They assumed his injuries and the gassing had resulted in his going crazy. Thus they figured his days on the front were over. But soon Conroy understood. The dog recognized the gas before the men did. Through his nose and sharp ears, he sensed it. Suddenly the men had a warning system. Because of the dog they would have the time to slip on their gas masks and cover their exposed skin.
No longer was Stubby ordered back in the bottom on the trenches; the dog was now their sentry and leader. The men followed the canine’s lead even more closely than they did their officer’s commands. And why not? The dog was saving countless lives every day. Thanks to their canine advanced warning system, the 102nd’s gas casualties were significantly reduced, and the company’s ability to wage war on the enemy was much more effective.
In the quiet moments, when the battle was not raging, men began to seek out the little dog. They held him in their arms and whispered thanks into his ears. Some had tears in their eyes. Stubby received treats along with praise and thanks. Some of the company’s officers even began to salute the dog. If all he had done was to serve as an advance gas warning system, Stubby would have had more value than a hundred men. Yet, as the army would soon discover, this dog’s battlefront education was about to open the door to his saving even more lives.
Perhaps because of his stays in field hospitals, Stubby also learned to listen for men in distress. Though no one ever understood how he distinguished between the enemy and members of his own military, the dog charged through fire and into no man’s land when one of his own went down. He stayed by the wounded man’s side until a medical team arrived. Sometimes that meant spending more than an hour in the midst of horrific fire from both sides. But his work as a medical spotter didn’t stop there.
In the noise of fearsome battles, he somehow picked up on men who had been injured and fallen into trenches. He would jump into the trench with an injured man, bark nonstop until help arrived, and then race to the next victim. He even developed the ability to sense when a man was dead or alive. If there was no hope, he moved on to a soldier who was in need of aid and had a chance to survive. The medical core grew so amazed by the dog’s instinct they tried to adopt him into their unit, but the 102nd would not give him up.
Stubby next developed the ability to hear the whine of artillery shells well before they could be picked up by human ears. More than that, he seemed to understand where the shells would land. Racing to that area, jumping up and down, and snarling, Stubby warned men to race from their positions and seek cover. As they did, the dog leaped into the bunkers with them. After the explosion he quickly emerged from the safety of the shelter and took up a post, sitting stone still, waiting until he heard the next shell coming.
Over the course of several months hundreds of men felt they owed their lives to the dog’s warnings. Soon Stubby’s companions held him in greater awe than they did General Pershing. As word filtered back to the States, families and even churches set aside time to pray for the little dog’s continued service in the field.
One of the next skills that Stubby gained was first noticed by Conroy during a lull in a battle. The dog was unceasingly barking even though there were no signs of enemy action. No one could get him to quiet down. Frustrated, Conroy told the company commander about the dog’s strange behavior. A few moments later sentries noted a group of Germans sneaking toward their lines for a night attack. Stubby’s warning positioned the 102nd to be ready to confront the enemy and drive them back with no loss of life. After that, Conroy was told to report when the terrier seemingly went crazy for no reason. Each time it happened, it proved to be a warning of an approaching enemy.
Americans were engaged in almost hand-to-hand combat in the Argonne when Stubby stepped forward in a new capacity. Conroy was catching a nap in a foxhole when the dog jumped on his chest and began barking. Leaping to his feet, the soldier followed the dog through a maze of trenches to discover a German sniper who had infiltrated the American lines. Before Conroy could react, the dog sunk its teeth into the enemy’s leg and clamped down. He didn’t let go until the German threw down his gun and surrendered.
Frenchmen came to marvel at the dog that, in their minds, defined courage, determination, and grit. As he proudly strolled through villages, men, women, and children clapped and cheered for the canine. Some even rushed forward with treats.
After retaking the town of Chateau-Thierry, the 102nd was given the chance to rest for a few days. During their stay in the city, a group of French women turned an army blanket into a small uniform. They presented this specially made jacket to the terrier. Conroy accepted the gift and put it on the dog. Stubby seemed genuinely proud to finally be wearing the colors of his company. Several of the men showed their great admiration by taking off their medals and pinning them on the new jacket.
In a year and a half of combat duty, Stubby participated in seventeen major battles including Chateau-Thierry, the Marne, and Saint-Mihiel. He also took part in four different offenses with his group, the 26th Yankee Division of the 102nd Infantry. As the days of the war wound down, officers ordered an official sergeant’s jacket made for the canine hero, complete with his name. Pinned to that jacket were a Purple Heart, the Republic of France Grande War Medal, the Medal of Verdun, and ribbons and medals for every battle in which he participated. The wire services, which had briefly written about the dog a year before, now gave him the full hero treatment. Stubby’s story of bravery found its way into almost every newspaper in the free world. By the time the armistice was signed, the once unwanted Boston terrier had become the most celebrated dog in American history.
Stubby had been smuggled to France and now, with the war over, an army rule stated that no dog, even if that canine was a decorated hero, could accompany the soldiers back home. Conroy went to several officers and all of them pointed to regulations and suggested the G.I. find a home for Stubby in France. Just like he had done when he left the United States for Europe, Conroy opted to smuggle the terrier back home. And this time the military police turned a blind eye allowing the dog and master to bend the rules.
Once back home, Stubby was greeted as a genuine war hero. The dog that had saved hundreds of American men was honored at scores of banquets and headed up many victory parades. The American Legion inducted him as a full, voting member. The YMCA offered him food for life. New York City’s finest hotels welcomed him with free food and lodging.
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