direction of those lines, they saw a small, dark speck moving across
the fields, stopping only here and there behind a rock to take shelter
from the bursting shells. Now and then it dashed wildly over the open
fields. But ever straight on toward the fort it came. Swiftly the
entrance of the fort was flung open, and in dashed one of the faithful
dogs, unhurt. In the wallet, fastened to his collar, was found a
message telling that relief was coming. Strapped to his back was a tiny
pannier, inside of which were two frightened carrier pigeons. On a slip
of paper the commander quickly wrote his message: "Stop the German
battery on our left." Then adding any necessary facts as to pointing
the guns, he fastened the message to the trembling bird and let it
loose. Straight to its home, above shot and shell, flew the pigeon. In
a few moments the German battery was silenced, and Douaumont and the
brave defenders were saved.
All along the lines, the dogs were busy bearing important messages back
and forth from one commander to another, and from one fort to another.
Zip, an English bulldog, ran two miles in heavy shell fire and
afterward had to go about with his jaw in splints; but he delivered his
message and seemed anxious to get well enough to carry another. One of
the other messenger dogs, it is said, carried orders almost
continuously for seventy-two hours, hardly stopping to eat or drink;
for no war dog would eat or drink anything given him by strangers. The
faithful animals were in danger of being taken prisoners, as well as of
being struck. Indeed, in one instance a heavy cannon rolled over upon a
big mastiff, pinning him there until help came.
When the battle ceased, the dogs sprang from the trenches and searched
the fields and woods for wounded men. They could find them much more
quickly and with less danger of being seen than any Red Cross man.
In former wars among civilized peoples, the firing has always been upon
armed forces, and the guns were silent after each battle to allow both
sides to find and care for the wounded soldiers in the field. The
Germans, however, have used the Red Cross doctors and stretcher-bearers
for targets, so that to send them out only means to add them to the
number wounded. But the dogs, creeping among the men, can seldom be
seen by the enemy, and besides are able to find the wounded quicker and
more easily. As soon as a dog finds an injured soldier, he seizes his
cap, a button, or a bit of his clothing, and runs back with it to the
doctor or a Red Cross nurse, for he will give it to no one else. The
stretcher-bearers then follow the dog and bring back the wounded man.
Often the man may lie in a dense thicket where no one would think to
look for him, but the dog, by his keen sense of smell or by hearing the
deep breaths or some slight sound made by the injured man, creeps in
and finds him.
Sometimes, to attract the attention of an ambulance driver, the dogs
give several short, quick barks; but usually they do their work
silently, for if they bark, the enemy will fire.
Many times a dog finds a man unable to get back to the lines, but not
so seriously wounded but that he can help himself somewhat. In such a
case, before running for help, the dog stands quiet, close to the
soldier, and allows him to take the flasks and first-aid bandages from
the wallet which is hung about the dog's neck or pinned to the blanket
on his back.
Thus, by the help of these faithful friends, the lives of many hundreds
of men have been saved. Over one hundred were rescued in one night
after a battle. A big Newfoundland, named Napoleon, had the credit of
saving as many as twenty. One of the men, in speaking of him, said,
"Part of his tail has been blown away, and once he was left for dead in
No Man's Land, but he is still on the job, working for civilization."
When not fighting or on watch, the men in the trenches enjoy the
company of the dogs and teach them to perform all sorts of tricks, the
fox terriers proving especially intelligent. They also do good work in
keeping the trenches free from rats.
At night, a French sentinel sometimes crawls through the entanglements
on his way to a "listening post" out in No Man's Land. With him goes a
sentinel dog. The sentinel's purpose is to discover if the enemy are
getting ready for a surprise attack. Lying flat on the earth, or
crouching in a shell hole, he listens with bated breath for any
telltale noises. The dog, listening too, creeps along beside him, or
slinks silently out into the darkness. He can tell, when his master
cannot, if an enemy is abroad. Making no sound, giving no betraying
bark, as soon as he discovers the enemy the dog draws near to his
master, stands at attention, his ears pricked up, his hair bristling,
his tail wagging as he silently paws the ground or growls so low that
only his master can hear him. If the German soldier attempts to fight,
the dog springs at him and throws him to the ground.
A group of soldiers were on watch one night in one of the front
trenches, when all of the dogs suddenly became uneasy, growling low,
and growing more and more excited. The soldiers knew their dogs and
trusted their warnings, so they telephoned back to the main trenches
for help. In less than half an hour, an attack was made from the
German trenches opposite. Meanwhile, however, reënforcements had
arrived for the Allies, which sent the enemy back to his own lines
again. How the dogs knew so long before that the attack was coming,
whether they could have heard the first faint signs of preparation in
the enemy trenches, the soldiers could not tell.
When a front line trench of the enemy is captured, it is the faithful
dogs who draw up the many cartloads of ammunition and supplies, and
some of the smaller guns. For this, the Belgian dogs are especially
well fitted.
Happy as long as they can help in the fighting, restless and uneasy
whenever sent back to the hospitals for treatment or rest, these dogs
have shown the worth of all the training they have received, as well as
a great amount of natural intelligence.
While Zip, Napoleon, Spot, Stop, Mignon, and Bouée have been doing
their bit on the firing line, still others have been taking their
training in readiness to go to the front. And very hard training it is.
Sheep dogs, fox terriers, bulldogs, collies, St. Bernards,
Newfoundlands, Alaskan wolf dogs, mongrels,--all must be carefully
trained by expert dog trainers.
First they must learn to distinguish between the uniform of their
country and that of the enemy. They must not bark, because then the
enemy will be sure to shoot. In carrying letters from post to post,
they must learn to recognize the posts by name.
[Illustration: A FRENCH OFFICER AND HIS DOG BOTH WEARING
ANTI-GAS MASKS WHILE CROSSING A DANGEROUS ZONE IN FRANCE
_Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N.Y._]
About three months of training are necessary to teach the dogs to
travel as far as three kilometres in this work. Two of the dogs are put
into the care of two trainers, and taught to recognize both as their
masters, and to carry dispatches from one to the other.
The dogs must be trained to obey implicitly. If the master stops
abruptly in his walk, the dog must do the same; if the trainer runs,
the dog must keep in perfect step, ready at a given signal to lie down,
or follow a scent, or find a wounded soldier. For many hours he must be
trained in jumping, because of the great heights over which he must
spring, carrying heavy weights in his mouth or upon his back or around
his neck. He must learn to make no sound except when ordered to do so,
to find objects which have been most skillfully hidden, to distinguish
between a dead man and one wounded and breathing, to deliver the token
of a wounded man only to the doctor or Red Cross nurse, to allow
nothing to hinder him from carrying out any task, to refuse food and
water from strangers, and to aid soldiers on the watch. These watch
dogs must learn to give a signal when they scent poison gas or hear the
enemy creeping up. And they must guard prisoners very carefully.
Some dogs cannot learn all of these duties, and so specialists examine
every dog that is enlisted. There are tests for health, intelligence,
speed, quick tempers, and even tempers. When a dog has been in training
for several weeks, he is sometimes found in the end to be unfit for
service, and the trainer has to admit a new recruit in his place and
start all over again. Often a dog can do certain tasks much better than
others, and so each one is assigned to the kind of service which he can
do best.
It is marvelous what great services these dogs have rendered in the
World War. The governments have recognized their worth, and societies
have been formed to train and protect them. The French people, in 1912,
organized the "Blue Cross." It is a Blue Cross officer who examines the
dogs and a Blue Cross doctor who gives first aid and orders an injured
dog to the hospital for further treatment. The Blue Cross also has been
at work in Italy.
The American Red Cross Society has taken over the task of securing and
protecting dogs on the American front, but instead of the red cross,
the animals wear a red star, so that the field is blest with three red
symbols of mercy--the red cross, the red triangle, and the red star.
The number of dogs added to the war service during the first four years
of the war was about ten thousand on all fronts.
Not only have dogs been provided by various societies, but many have
been given by private families. One elderly French father wrote to the
French War Department, "I already have three sons and a son-in-law with
the Colors; now I give up my dog, and 'Vive la France!'"
The French government officials, as well as the various societies, have
shown their gratitude by awarding honors to the canine heroes. Many
have been mentioned in the orders for bravery and heroic conduct.
Several have been presented with gold collars. The French government
has even published a "Golden Book of Dogs," in which are recorded some
of the heroic deeds of these brave and faithful friends of man. One of
the dogs wearing a French medal of honor is a plucky fox terrier, who
is said to have saved one hundred fifty lives after the Battle of the
Marne. Bouée, a fuzzy-haired, dirty, yellow-and-black, tailless little
fellow, is another hero, who has been cited three times for his
bravery. During a heavy action, when all the telephone wires had been
destroyed, Bouée carried communications between a commandant and his
force, fulfilling his duty perfectly without allowing anything to
distract him.
Shall we not change the old proverb from "As brave as a lion," to "As
brave as a dog"?
THE _BELGIAN PRINCE_
The _Belgian Prince_ was a British cargo steamer. On a voyage from
Liverpool to Philadelphia, with Captain Hassan in command, she was, on
July 31, 1917, attacked and sunk by a German U-boat. For brutal
savagery and barbarism, the drowning of the crew of the _Belgian
Prince_ is one of the most astounding in the history of human warfare.
Captain Hassan was taken aboard the U-boat, and no further knowledge of
his fate has been received. The _Belgian Prince_ was a merchant ship,
not a warship in any sense of the word.
The Germans evidently intended to sink her without a trace left behind
to tell the story, as their Minister to Argentina advised his
government to do with Argentine ships; but three members of her crew,
the chief engineer and two seamen, escaped as by a miracle. Their
stories are now among the records of the British Admiralty; they have
also been published in many books which have a place in thousands of
libraries, public and private, all over the world. How will the Hun,
when peace comes again, face his fellow-men?
The story of the chief engineer, Thomas Bowman, is as follows:
At 7:50 P.M. on the night of July 31, the _Belgian Prince_ was
traveling along at ten knots, when she was struck. The weather
was fine and the sea smooth. It was a clear day and just
beginning to darken. I was on the after deck of the ship, off
watch, taking a stroll and having a smoke. The donkeyman shouted
out, "Here's a torpedo coming." I turned and saw the wake on the
port about a hundred yards away. I yelled a warning, but the
words were no more than out of my mouth when we were hit.
I was thrown on deck by a piece of spar, and when I recovered I
found the ship had a very heavy list to port and almost all the
crew had taken to the boats. I got into the starboard lifeboat,
which was my station. Until then I had seen no submarine, but
now heard it firing a machine gun at the other side of the ship.
With a larger gun it shot away the radio wires aloft so that we
could send out no S.O.S. messages. As soon as we had pulled away
from the ship I saw the U-boat, which promptly made toward our
own boats and hailed us in English, commanding us to come
alongside her. We were covered by their machine gun and
revolvers. We were in two lifeboats and the captain's dinghy.
The submarine commander then asked for our captain and told him
to come on board, which he did. He was taken down inside the
submarine and we saw him no more. The rest of us, forty-three in
number, were then ordered to board the submarine and to line up
on deck. A German officer and several sailors were very foul and
abusive in their language. They ordered us, in English, to strip
off our life belts and overcoats and throw them down on the
deck.
When this was done they proceeded to search us, making us hold
up our hands and threatening us with revolvers. These sailors,
while they passed along the deck and were searching us,
deliberately kicked most of the life belts overboard from where
we had dropped them. Beyond making us take off our life belts
and coats there was no interference with our clothing. They
robbed me of my seaman's discharge book and certificate, which
they threw overboard, but kept four one-pound notes.
After searching us, the German sailors climbed into our
lifeboats and threw out the oars, gratings, thole-pins, and
baling tins. The provisions and compass they lugged aboard the
submarine. They then smashed our boats with axes so as to make
them useless, and cast them adrift. I saw all this done myself.
Several of the German sailors then got into our dinghy and rowed
to the _Belgian Prince_. These men must have been taken off
later, after they had ransacked the ship.
The submarine then moved ahead for a distance of several miles.
I could not reckon it accurately because it was hard to judge
her speed. She then stopped, and after a moment or two I heard a
rushing sound like water pouring into the ballast tanks of the
submarine.
"Look out for yourselves, boys," I shouted. "She is going down."
The submarine then submerged, leaving all our crew in the water,
barring the captain, who had been taken below. We had no means
of escape but for those who had managed to retain their life
belts. I tried to jump clear, but was carried down with the
submarine, and when I came to the surface I could see only about
a dozen of our men left afloat, including a young lad named
Barnes, who was shouting for help.
I swam toward him and found that he had a life belt on, but was
about paralyzed with cold and fear. I held him up during the
night. He became unconscious and died while I was holding him.
All this time I could hear no other men in the water. When dawn
broke I could see the _Belgian Prince_ about a mile and a half
away and still floating. I began to swim in her direction, but
had not gone far when I saw her blow up.
I then drifted about in the life belt for an hour or two longer
and saw smoke on the horizon. This steamer was laying a course
straight for me, having seen the explosion of the _Belgian
Prince_. She proved to be a British naval vessel, which also
found the two other survivors in the water. We were taken to
port and got back our strength after a while. None of us had
given the submarine commander and crew any reason for their
behavior toward us. And I make this solemn declaration
conscientiously, believing it to be true.
The two common sailors who survived were William Snell, a negro, of
Norfolk, Virginia, and George Silenski, a Russian. William Snell's
story is as follows:
Two men of the submarine's crew stayed on top of the conning
tower with rifles in their hands which they kept trained on us.
Seven other Germans stood abreast of our line on the starboard
side of the boat, armed with automatic pistols. The captain of
the submarine, a blond man with blue eyes, was also on deck and
stood near the forward gun, giving orders to his crew in German,
and telling them what to do. Pretty soon he walked along in
front of the men of the _Belgian Prince_, asking them if they
had arms on them. He ordered us to take off our life belts and
throw them on deck, which we did. As they dropped at our feet,
he helped his sailors pick them up and sling them overboard.
When I threw my belt down, I shoved it along on the deck with my
foot, and finally stood on it. As the commander walked along the
line, he huddled us together in a crowd and then went and pulled
the plugs out of our lifeboats, which were lying on the
starboard side of the submarine. When he went back to the
conning tower, I quickly picked up my belt and hid it under a
big, loose oilskin which I was wearing when I left the _Belgian
Prince_. The Germans did not make me take it off when they
searched me. I hugged the life belt close to my breast with one
arm.
When the commander returned to the conning tower, four German
sailors came on deck from below and got into our captain's small
boat, which was on the port side. The submarine then backed a
little, steamed ahead, and rammed and smashed one of our
lifeboats, which had been cast adrift.
The four men who had jumped into our captain's boat now pulled
alongside the _Belgian Prince_. The submarine then got under way
and moved ahead at about nine knots, as near as I could guess,
leaving her four men aboard the _Belgian Prince_, and all of us,
except our skipper, huddled together on the forward deck, which
was almost awash.
She steamed like this for some time, and then I noticed that the
water was rising slowly on the deck until it came up to my
ankles. I had also noticed, a little while before this, that the
conning tower was closed. The water kept on rising around my
legs, and when it got almost up to my knees I pulled out my life
belt, threw it over my shoulders, and jumped overboard. The
other men didn't seem to know what was going to happen. Some of
them were saying, "I wonder if they mean to drown us."
About ten seconds after I had jumped, I heard a suction as of a
vessel sinking and the submarine had submerged entirely, leaving
the crew of the _Belgian Prince_ to struggle in the water.
I began to swim toward our own ship which I could see faintly in
the distance, it being not very dark in that latitude until late
in the evening. The water was not cold, like the winter time,
and I was not badly chilled, but swam and floated all night, on
my back and in other positions. One of our crew, who had no
life belt, kept about five yards from me for half an hour after
the submarine submerged. Then he became exhausted and sank. I
could hear many other cries for help, but I could not see the
men.
When day came, there were lots of bodies of old shipmates
floating around me. Then about five o'clock, as near as I can
judge, I made out the _Belgian Prince_ and four men coming over
the side. They had been lowering some stuff into a boat. I cried
out, "Help, help!" but they paid no attention to me.
Then the submarine came to the surface and the four sailors
hoisted their stuff out of the rowboat and were taken aboard.
Ten minutes later the submarine submerged. Then there was a
great explosion as the _Belgian Prince_ broke in two and sank.
Soon I saw a vessel approaching and she passed me, but turned
and came back just in time. I was all in. It was a British
patrol steamer, and as soon as I came to, I made a full report
to the captain of the loss of the _Belgian Prince_ and the
drowning of her crew.
The Russian, in his story, tells of the taking away of the life belts
and the smashing of the lifeboats; of the crew of the _Belgian Prince_
being left to sink or swim after the U-boat submerged--in all of these
details agreeing with the stories of the other two. And he adds:
Then I swam toward the ship all night, although I had no life
belt or anything to support me. About five o'clock in the
morning I reached the _Belgian Prince_ and climbed on board. I
stayed there about an hour and got some dry clothes and put them
on.
I saw the submarine come near the ship and three or four of her
men climbed on board. I hid and they did not notice me. They
had come to put bombs in the ship, so I jumped overboard from
the poop with a life belt on. The submarine fired two shells
into the ship to make her hurry up and sink. Then the Germans
steamed away. I climbed into our little boat which had been left
adrift and stayed there until a British patrol ship came along
and picked me up.
Do you wonder that the members of the British Seamen's Union have taken
a pledge, "No peace until the sea is free from Hun outrages"; and that
they have declared a boycott on all German ships, cargoes, and sailors
for seven years after the war? Sailors of other nations are joining
with the British in this boycott.
* * * * *
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The thronèd monarch better than his crown:
* * * * *
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice.
SHAKESPEARE.
DARING THE UNDARABLE
We are thirty in the hands of Fate
And thirty-one with Death, our mate.
So sang the men who, with D'Annunzio, the Italian poet and hero, set
out "to dare the undarable."
Little has yet been told of the deeds of the Italians in the World War,
but as they become known, the people of other nations realize that
Italy has really worked wonders in her almost superhuman attempts to
conquer, not only men, but nature as well. When the complete story is
written of her struggles with avalanches, snow, frost, and enemy
soldiers in the mountain passes, it will be one continuous record of
heroic deeds.
D'Annunzio, although well over fifty years of age, and in most
countries judged too old for actual warfare, has been one of Italy's
most daring fighters. He was known throughout his native land by his
writings, and his fiery, passionate pleas published in all Italian
cities before Italy entered the war, helped his countrymen see the
right and decide to fight for it.
As soon as Italy decided to join the Allies, D'Annunzio sought and was
granted a post of great danger. He became an aviator, in the same corps
with his son.
Austria, whenever possible, sent aviators over Venice and other Italian
cities to drop bombs, although this warfare upon non-combatant women
and children was contrary to international law. The Austrians, like the
Germans, seemed to believe that it was wise for them to use any means
to win.
In August, 1918, D'Annunzio commanded a flight of eight bombing
airplanes over Vienna. It was a long-distance record for a squadron of
planes. Leaving the Italian lines at half past five in the morning,
they flew to Vienna and back, over six hundred miles, reaching home in
about sixteen hours. It was necessary for them to fly very high, at
about fifteen thousand feet, to cross the Alps and to escape the
Austrian barrage. All the machines returned but one, which was obliged
to land on account of engine trouble.
More than a million printed declarations, or statements, were dropped
on Vienna to inform the Austrians of the real state of affairs. In
Germany and Austria, the people were allowed to know only what their
rulers thought would be good for them to know. D'Annunzio wanted to
show them that Italians could drop bombs on Vienna if they desired to
do so, or thought it right to do so.
The manifestoes, as they are called, were in German, and read as
follows:
We Italians do not war upon women, children, and old men--but
only upon your blind, obstinate, and cruel rulers, who cannot
give you either peace or food, but try to keep you quiet with
hatred and falsehood.
You are said to be intelligent. Why do you wear the uniform of
Prussia? It is suicide for you to continue the war. The victory
that would end the war promised to you by the Prussians is like
the wheat they promised you from Ukraine. You will all die while
waiting for it. People of Vienna, think for yourselves! Awake!
In February, 1918, D'Annunzio with twenty-nine companions set out on
three small torpedo boats to destroy some Austrian warships discovered
by an Italian aviator to be lying hidden in the Bay of Buccari. To get
at them, it was necessary to steam past the Austrian fortifications.
Discovery meant death.