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equipment, these dogs are life-savers on a daily basis. They protect the life of their handler and save the lives of military and civilian personnel with each successful ‘find’. Dogs may still be listed as ‘equipment’ but no machine and no man can match the skill of a trained search dog. Wartime strategies and hardware may come and go but the skill of a war dog remains constant and irreplaceable.
Within the ranks, the war dog is regarded as nothing less than a fellow ‘soldier’, a colleague and a companion. Over the years Service dogs and mascot dogs have been decorated for their life-saving bravery in conflict. Many have lost their lives in saving others and their fellow soldiers have deemed it vital to recognize their incredible service and sacrifice to mankind.
For these animals to give so much when they are innocent in the ways of the world and war deserves recognition. These are just five stories of many, and all are awe inspiring and heart warming in equal measure. Maybe even the dogs would ask for them to be told, and they deserve to be remembered – for all time.
‘No two-legged soldier did his duty any better and none died more heroically than Sergeant Gander.’
(George MacDonnell, Hong Kong Veterans Association of Canada)
‘You know Pal, you’re quite a handful these days. If you get much bigger we are going to have to move house!’ Rod Hayden laughed as he hugged the huge, black Newfoundland dog and looked into his dewy brown eyes.
Pal drooled with pleasure as he slumped down onto his master’s feet. He couldn’t help being such a big dog; after all, Newfoundlands are built that way, their thick, shaggy, black coats being the perfect protection against the freezing chills of the cruel Canadian winters. Clearly Rod Hayden loved Pal and so did his son, Jack. The dog and the boy were so close that it was sometimes like having two boisterous children around the house with only one of them having a huge fur coat. Pal was adored by his family and by every child in the town of Gander, Newfoundland.
When the snow fell on Gander it fell hard and heavy. A good snowfall would block the doorway to the house and cover the roads so perfectly that they simply ceased to exist. In the worst of it, snow banks would rise higher than the roof-tops and venturing outdoors meant piling on as much clothing as it was possible to wear under an insulated top coat. But, for the children, the most exciting thing about the snow was sledding. And who was always around to join in the fun? Pal.
Pal, who was only two years old and already almost the size of a small pony, had given Rod Hayden an idea. A while back he had seen a set of pony reins hanging on a hook in the attic and now seemed a good time to put them to good use. He had no idea where they had come from nor how old they were. He had lived in the house over ten years and had never owned a pony or a trap. The rocky tracks that meandered off the main roads in Newfoundland were unsuitable for the small hooves of a pony or the delicate wheels of a cart. But wherever they had come from and however long they had been in that dusty box in the attic didn’t matter now. Rod knew exactly what he had to do and he knew that Jack and his friends would be so excited.
It didn’t take long to persuade Pal to try on the customized harness Rod had adapted from the pony bridle. The padded band designed to go over the pony’s broad muzzle was a perfect fit and the long, covered straps slipped comfortably around the dog’s body. The reins were short to suit a child’s small hands and Jack couldn’t wait to try them out.
Ten-year-old Jack watched his father attach Pal’s new harness to the sled and he could see the dog was just as keen as he was to get out into the snow. Pal had never worn anything like reins before. He had never even worn a dog lead, but this big, friendly giant was happy to do whatever Rod Hayden wanted him to and so, after what probably seemed like forever to the young Jack, the sled and Pal were ready. ‘Come on Pal, let’s go!’ said Jack, raising the reins as Pal lurched forward with the sled lumbering behind him.
By the time he reached his friend Eileen’s house, Jack was handling the reins with confidence and he was looking forward to showing her his clever dog in harness. But in the small community of Gander it didn’t take long for every child in walking distance of the Haydens’ house to hear that Pal was giving sled rides. Soon Eileen was just one of several children queuing up to take her turn to ‘drive’. Waving and shrieking with laughter, Jack and his friends dashed along and Pal pranced around like a show pony, his long pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. No one had ever seen anything like it before.
When he wasn’t playing in the snow or taking up space in the house, Pal found a new pastime as Gander became a focus for wartime activity.
Newfoundland Airport, as it was known, had been constructed in 1936 and two years later it boasted four paved, fully operational runways. Not only was it one of the world’s largest airbases at the time but by 1940 its geographical location made it one of the most strategically important. It was North America’s most eastern-based airport and therefore perfectly placed to be a refuelling depot for transatlantic flights, and it would also give pilots the greatest range for surveillance flights over the Western Atlantic. All the Allies had to do was secure it and protect it from a possible German attack.
In 1941, the Dominion of Newfoundland offered the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) operational control of the airport. Suddenly the town of Gander was no longer just a random collection of 10 houses, a one-roomed school and an airstrip surrounded by several shed-like buildings. The Second World War was about to transform this isolated town into a strategic military airbase and place at its hub the operational activities of the RCAF. Ferry Command, the organization responsible for transporting new aircraft across the Atlantic to supply the Allied forces fighting the war in Europe, constructed a base there. The Royal Canadian Navy also selected Gander as an ideal base for a radio transmission centre and a ‘listening post’ to pick up German U-boat radio transmissions to and from Germany. Any information that could help pinpoint the position of enemy U-boats was crucial at the time as the U-boats were proving to be devastatingly successful in the war at sea.
Initially a detachment from Canada’s Black Watch regiment was posted to Gander to defend the base from enemy attack. Later the Americans also sent troops. Gander had become too important a base to risk losing or incurring any damage from enemy activity. From then on, operating as Gander Airfield, the base came to life with more hangers, more equipment, more personnel, longer runways and additions like a laundry, a bakery and a hospital.
Rod Hayden, his wife and young son Jack were one of very few families living in Gander. Jack attended the local school with 13 other children, while his father, depot manager for the Shell Oil Company, was responsible for refuelling the aircraft bound for England. This had become a 24-hour programme of activity and it would have been a lonely job if it hadn’t been for Pal, Rod’s canine shadow.
The Hayden family home was adjacent to the runway and for an excitable dog with energy to release, this was just another playground. Running to meet the planes as they landed was something Pal loved to do before he dashed to the cockpit to sit with the crew. The dog wasn’t always a welcome visitor. But that didn’t bother Pal. There were so many planes and crews going in and out of Gander that he had plenty of chances to play his tricks on unsuspecting pilots.
Often, as the ground staff worked frantically to clear the runway of snow, Pal would wait patiently for the lights to appear, illuminating the landing strip. For him it was the sign that an aircraft was on its way in and he prepared himself to greet the crew. Severe weather conditions were always a challenge to a pilot’s concentration and a row of coloured lights stretching forward to welcome the aircraft out of a snow-filled sky was a reassuring sight. No one could afford to take chances. Lives were at risk. Pal’s unscheduled ‘welcomes’ could be too much of a surprise for many pilots, and quite often the control tower personnel would receive a message that there was a ‘bear on the runway’! The operators knew what they meant and replied, ‘No. That’s not a bear. That’s Pal. He’s a dog!’
Pal was a good name for this huge, friendly dog. He was everyone’s friend