Judy, Prisoner of War
Page 6
They stopped looking one day when they discovered a tiger on their trail, but I still didn’t think it was safe to return. Mostly I worried about Frank. Did he think I was dead? Was he giving up?
I’m alive, my friend, I wanted to tell him. Just hang on. I’m okay, don’t worry about me.
I was hovering on the edge of the jungle late that third night when I heard quiet, sneaky noises. The guards were packing up and leaving! They slithered away like snakes in the dark. I waited until dawn to make sure they were really and truly gone, and then I ran into the center of camp.
Wake up! Wake up! I barked. The kickers are gone!
I was so happy I jumped around in circles, barking.
The prisoners slowly limped out of their huts, wondering what new horrors the Japanese were trying to inflict upon them and me. Instead, they found a camp empty of guards.
Frank ran over and I leaped upon him. We rolled around like we had when we were reunited at the camp in Singapore.
We’re alive, and we’re together! I barked.
A few minutes later, we heard the sound of an engine. I could tell that it was different from the Japanese trucks. I led the men into a clearing just beyond the camp, where we found two British soldiers sitting in a jeep.
“The war’s over, mates,” they told us. “The Japanese surrendered.”
It was August 15, 1945. Men dropped to their knees, laughing and crying. They hugged each other and the British soldiers who had found us. I stayed by Frank’s side, wagging my tail at these new friends.
“We’re free!” someone shouted, and then all of the men picked up the cheer. “We’re free! We’re free!”
The war in the Pacific had lasted for 1,364 days. I had been a prisoner for most of it. And now I was finally free.
All that day and night, planes flew overhead, dropping parachutes with crates of food—real, wonderful food like meat, cheese, and eggs. There was chocolate and bread and butter and jam. And coffee. The men loved the coffee. (The yucky brown liquid had no appeal for me.)
At first the food made them sick, but slowly their bodies got used to being nourished again. Even I got a little queasy, but it was worth it for a full belly.
“Hey, you know something?” Frank said to me. “Now that this war is over, you can have your own rice ration. You don’t need to share with me.”
I thumped my tail in response. And I don’t have to catch any more rats.
Clothing also came to us from the sky, which was a good thing because the men were all naked after the lice incident. Bedding, medical equipment, and even portable kitchens and bathrooms were parachuted from the sky.
The men were grateful, but what they really wanted was to go home.
“When?” they asked.
“Soon” was the reply.
Thankfully, that was the truth. After about a week, we sailed to Singapore and went straight to the hospital. Frank was recovering from malaria, and we both needed to gain some weight.
Then there was talk of sending him home. Dogs weren’t allowed on airplanes, so Frank refused to take one.
“I’ll wait for a ship,” he said. “I’m not leaving Judy.”
Finally, after about a month in Singapore, we were playing catch one afternoon when a medical orderly handed Frank his embarkation papers.
“Here we go, girl,” Frank said, reading the orders. “To leave for England aboard the troopship Antenor.” Then his face crumpled. There was a footnote: “No dogs, birds, or pets of any kind to be taken aboard.”
“I’m not leaving you behind, Judy,” Frank whispered to me. “It’s time for another smuggling operation.”
I licked his hand to let him know that I understood.
I’m ready. Just tell me what to do.
On the day we were set to leave for England, Frank asked four of his friends to help. We strolled to the docks. I trailed behind, pretending to be a stray dog out for a walk. When we got close, I avoided the military police and slipped behind some duffel bags near the gangway.
I watched Frank board and show his papers to the two guards at the top of the gangway. I kept my eyes on him and waited.
Frank’s friends walked up the gangway together a few minutes later and started a conversation with the guards. They kept pointing back at the city and pulled the guards away from the gangway to show them something. That’s when Frank gave me the signal. It was a low whistle. The guards were too busy talking to hear it, but my super dog ears wouldn’t miss that sound.
I scrambled up the gangway and into the duffel bag at Frank’s feet. We’d done it again.
We’re going to England!
Frank took me belowdecks, where I hid out with his gear.
Over the next six weeks, we relaxed and ate, and ate and relaxed. We let the ship’s cook know early on that I was a stowaway, and he saved the best bones for me. By the time we neared Liverpool in England, Frank and I were both healthy again. I had forgotten how shiny and beautiful my coat could be.
Frank realized he was going to have to reveal his secret if I was going to make it ashore. Three days before we docked, he went to the captain and confessed. The captain was angry at first, but Frank told him all about me and how we’d kept each other alive. I went to visit him and gave him my prettiest smile. He radioed someone on shore and got permission for me to make landfall.
There was just one problem.
England said I had to stay in quarantine for six months to make sure I was healthy and wouldn’t pass any nasty diseases to English animals.
Look at how beautiful I am, I wanted to tell them. I’m healthy!
I knew it. Frank knew it. But England couldn’t be sure, and the officials wouldn’t budge.
The ship anchored in Liverpool on October 29, 1945, and Frank had no choice but to hand me over to the Ministry of Agriculture. My new prison was a lot nicer than the prisons in Sumatra, and I didn’t have to hunt for rats to survive. But my real home was with Frank, and I missed him.
He visited a lot, but it wasn’t the same.
“You’ll be home with me soon, girl,” he’d promise every time he came.
Not soon enough for me, I thought.
Lots of other friends from Sumatra came to visit, too. It was good to see them all looking so fat and healthy.
Soon more and more people heard my story and wanted to visit. By the time I was released on April 29, 1946, all the dog lovers in England had heard Frank’s and my story. I was made an official member of the Royal Air Force and even had my own uniform to match Frank’s!
There was a big ceremony the day I got out, with lots of people taking pictures. Newspapers wrote stories about me, and I barked on the radio.
I’m famous! I thought. And so is Frank!
Crowds came to see me wherever I went, and I even spent some time with movie stars. But my favorite thing to do was visit children in hospitals. Small humans—with the exception of Frank, of course—are the best humans there are.
On July 22, 1946, Frank and I were both demobilized by the military. That meant we could go home to Portsmouth, where Frank lived before the war, and that’s exactly what we did.
After everything we had been through, we were finally home. Together.
Frank and I were a man and dog of the world, and we soon became restless at home in England. Then, in 1948, Frank had a chance to travel to Africa for work. The first thing he did was check to make sure I could go along. When he got a yes, we made our plans. We got on an airplane—my very first plane ride—and flew to Tanganyika. Today, it’s known as Tanzania, a country in Africa.
We spent our days in Frank’s jeep, traveling from plantation to plantation and village to village for Frank’s work. He was working with local farmers to cultivate crops like peanuts in the areas of Africa that were still part of Great Britain. My favorite thing to do was explore the bush. Africa had a lot of snakes and elephants like the ones I had seen in Sumatra, but there were new animals here I had never seen or smelled before, like lion
s and giraffes. The baboons reminded me too much of Mickey the monkey, so I did my best to avoid them.
We had been in Africa for a couple of years when something surprising happened. I was fourteen years old by then, and moving a little more slowly than I used to. One day I was out roving in the bush when I got lost. I didn’t understand why. It had never happened before, but when dark came, I couldn’t find my way home.
Before I knew it, there was a lion on my trail and I had to race away from it, and then I was even more turned around. There was no trace of Frank’s scent, no trace of home. It took me a long time to find any humans at all.
I limped into a village a few days after I got lost. I knew Frank was looking for me, but I didn’t know how to let him know where I was. My age made me too tired to search for him.
Luckily, Frank found me a couple of days after that and carried me home.
I felt okay after a bath, a big meal, and a good sleep. But a couple of nights later, on February 16, I woke up with a terrible pain. Frank tried to comfort me, but I could hardly walk. So Frank carried me in his arms once again, this time to the doctor.
I had surgery to remove a tumor that was causing the pain, but then an infection set in.
Frank came to sit with me with tears streaming down his cheeks. I knew what that meant. I had said goodbye to too many friends over the years. This would be the hardest one of all.
I licked his hand. Goodbye, my friend.
Then I fell asleep in the arms of my most special human. I was buried in my RAF jacket—the one that matched Frank’s. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Judy was a real dog who became the only animal to become an official prisoner of war during World War II. Although it’s impossible to know what she was really thinking and feeling, all of the events in this novel really happened to the English pointer born in Shanghai in 1936.
Everyone who knew Judy said she had a remarkable ability to sense when danger was near. Somehow she knew the difference between who was an enemy and who was a friend even before she spent any time with them. And she was able to tell the difference between Japanese planes and ships, and those of friendly countries.
Many men who suffered as prisoners of war alongside Judy credit the dog with helping them stay alive. Not only did she distract guards from beatings and supply whatever food she could, Judy reminded the men of home. She lifted their spirits and gave them a reason to hang on.
Of course, not all of the men made it. An estimated 677 of the 6,000 POWs sent to work on the Death Railway died in Sumatra. The war took the lives of many, many more men, women, and children from all over the world.
Almost every country on earth took part in World War II. The United States, Great Britain, the Soviet Union, China, and other countries were on one side. They were called the Allies. Germany, Japan, and the countries that supported them were on the other. They were called the Axis powers.
The war between the Allied countries and the Axis powers lasted from September 1939 until August 1945. Many other animals took part in the war, helping their militaries just as Judy helped her men.
If you look on a map for some of the places Judy mentions during the course of her story, you won’t find them. That’s because many places are known by different names today. Below is a list of what they’re called in this book, next to their current names.
Want to read more about Judy, World War II, or other military animals? Check out these great books.
Bomb: The Race to Build—and Steal—the World’s Most Dangerous Weapon by Steve Sheinkin, Flash Point. This is the story of the plotting, risk-taking, deceit, and genius that created the atomic bomb—the weapon that brought World War II to an end.
Dive! World War II Stories of Sailors & Submarines in the Pacific by Deborah Hopkinson, Scholastic. Read all about the heroic sailors aboard the US submarines who fought to stop the Japanese invasion across the Pacific.
Lost in the Pacific, 1942 by Tod Olson, Scholastic. This true story follows a group of soldiers who fought for survival at sea when a plane crash left them stranded in the middle of Japanese waters during World War II.
DK Eyewitness Books: World War II by Simon Adams, DK Children. Photographs, illustrations, documents, and maps tell the stories of the people, places, and events of World War II.
Military Animals by Laurie Calkhoven, Scholastic. Read about the dogs, horses, elephants, and even carrier pigeons that have aided soldiers through the ages.
No Better Friend: Young Readers Edition: A Man, a Dog, and Their Incredible True Story of Friendship and Survival in World War II by Robert Weintraub, Little, Brown Books for Young Readers. Read the nonfiction account of Judy’s extraordinary life.
Look for G.I. Dogs: Sergeant Stubby!
LAURIE CALKHOVEN spent her summer vacations on a farm in Iowa ruled over by a St. Bernard dog named Ginger. At home in New Jersey, Friskie (a mutt adopted from the dog pound) refused to be trained not to run into the road. Then she ran right into a moving car. Friskie got around on three legs after that, and learned not to play in traffic. There’s no room for a dog in the New York City apartment where Laurie currently lives, but her nieces and nephews have four: Hudson, Meisje, Molly, and Lucy.
Laurie is the author of many books for young readers, including Military Animals and Women Who Changed the World.
Photos ©: cover bottom right and throughout: Ever/iStockphoto; 113 top: TopFoto/The Image Works; 113 bottom: Imperial War Museum; 114: TopFoto/The Image Works; 115 top: Bettmann/Getty Images; 115 bottom: FPG/Getty Images; 116: The National Archives/Getty Images; 117 top: Imperial War Museum; 117 bottom: Popperfoto/ Getty Images; 118 top: FLPA/age fotostock; 118 bottom: Rex Features/AP Images; 119 top: Topical Press Agency/Getty Images; 119 bottom: Imperial War Museum.
Copyright © 2018 by Laurie Calkhoven
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available
First edition, April 2018
Book design by Baily Crawford
Cover art by Mike Heath
Cover design by Baily Crawford
e-ISBN 978-1-338-18524-9
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