As it did the afternoon Bill was walking with Smoky at his heels in the streets of Sydney. Chatting to his friends, Bill looked down to check on his dog only to find that she had disappeared. Horrified, he looked around and saw a woman walking away with Smoky under her arm! ‘Excuse me, but you have my dog,’ said Bill. The woman insisted the dog was hers. ‘She’s been mine for a long time in New Guinea, Ma’am. You’d better give her back to me – right now!’ Reluctantly, she handed Smoky over. Smoky gave Bill a huge lick on his face as if to say, ‘Thanks Dad!’ It was the last time Bill let Smoky walk at heel in public again.
When Bill returned from leave, the squadron was awaiting orders. There was a general air of anxiety hanging over everything as news of General MacArthur’s landings on the southern beaches of the island of Mindoro filtered through the ranks. The landings had taken place in a key location in the planned Lingayen Gulf operations and were to support the major landings on Luzon. It was to Luzon that Bill and Smoky were headed. Loading Landing Ship Tank (LST) 927 with supplies and equipment was physically demanding. Everything had to be stacked deep on the tank deck of the ship and it had to be done quickly and accurately.
Everyone had been recalled to the squadron and all flights grounded except for the pilots of the F-5 recon planes which had to be flown to the next station. Bill and his colleagues knew very little about what was to happen to them but they were proudly aware that 26th Photo Recon Squadron was the only recon squadron going to Luzon. They had been chosen for the mission and would be going in the second invasion convoy behind the Navy assault ships and landing forces and would hit the beach after the combat troops had taken sufficient territory inland. As a precautionary measure, fifty personnel from each ship were swapped between the two convoys: fifty from Bill’s ship, LST 927, were transferred to 391st Night Fighter Squadron on LST 706 and vice versa. Bill and Smoky were among those swapped onto the first convoy and Bill knew that meant strict army rations of dehydrated food and having to find a bunk amongst all the hardware for Smoky. The area below deck had room for 260 men in bunks and hammocks but it was very cramped. Bill decided to put his cot on deck between the army vehicles. It seemed to be the lesser of the two evils. Besides, other members of the 26th were in the hold, directly below, and that area could be easily accessed if needs be. Just nine feet away from a 20 mm anti-aircraft gun and four feet from an air vent, it was not going to be a quiet spot but that was the least of their worries.
As soon as they were out at sea, Bill opened the musette bag and allowed Smoky to stroll on deck. No one minded and everyone seemed interested in how he found Smoky and how he had taught her all her marvellous tricks. Every day Bill would let her wander the deck to meet her adoring fans and, more than anything, enjoy some much-needed exercise. There was another canine mascot aboard ship, a Dalmatian who wore a life belt around his middle in case he fell overboard. Smoky and her spotted friend got along famously and many a soldier and sailor had their photographs taken on deck with the dogs as they all made the long journey to Luzon.
For Smoky, being aboard ship was a whole new experience. She accepted the new smells of engine oil, rust, salt, disinfectant and unwashed soldiers. She also had to get used to going without a bath. Exposure to the salt air and water made her coat coarse and brushing against the rusty chains striped her coat a dirty orange. Catching the tail end of a typhoon, the ships pitched and rolled in twenty-five-foot waves. Sometimes, the swell of the water would momentarily take the ships from view as they made their way up the west coast of the South Philippines through the Mindanao Sea, the Sulu Sea and the South China Sea. Sometimes, only able to move forward at ten knots, it was a slow journey.
Daily drills on deck and preparing for battle kept the men busy. The decks had been cleared of the canvas shelters that were an obvious fire hazard in an attack and the greatest fear was the ship being hit by a kamikaze plane – this had happened to one of the ships ahead of them. As the sun was going down off the coast of Mindoro, life aboard the ship was normal: some of the men were playing cards, others sleeping on their cots. Some broke the rules by drafting a letter home – although they knew it could not be sent, maybe it made them feel closer to their family. Suddenly the general quarters was sounded and everyone jumped to their duties. The gunners dashed to their stations and others tumbled helmets and jackets into place. Army personnel were ordered below decks as a sailor ran through closing the bulkhead hatches. From there, they had to stay closed. Everyone understood that if they were trapped in a damaged compartment, the hatch would not be opened. An eerie quiet spread through the ship. After ten minutes, the horns and bells of general quarters sounded again and this time the action was for real.
Bill grabbed Smoky and returned to his cot between the truck and the Jeep. He hit the deck and pulled Smoky in close to his body, cupping his right hand over her ears. The ship’s guns opened fire. The twin Bofors guns on the bow and the two 40 mm guns that flanked them thundered into action. The gunner and loader at the 20 mm anti-aircraft gun next to Bill were loading and firing repeatedly; their target was a group of eight planes coming out of the grey cloud. The ship rocked violently in the water as the guns pounded. Smoky’s fragile body juddered with each shot fired. Bill held her as close as he could and whispered words of reassurance: ‘It’s OK, girl. Don’t you worry now … everything will be fine …’ Over and over he said the words that he hoped would also provide some reassurance for him.
Though there was gunfire, smoke and shrapnel all around him, it was somehow natural to look to the sky to make sense of what was happening. Holding tightly to Smoky, Bill scanned the clouds and there, right above him, two kamikaze planes were diving towards him. They looked on target for the guns which were blasting back into the sky. As his boots scrunched on the pieces of shrapnel scattered on the deck, Bill watched as one of the planes disappeared off the ship’s bow and the other hit a Liberty ship to the left. A jet of water stretched into the sky as the first plane cut its nose into the waves and smoke billowed from the stricken Liberty ship. The noise was deafening and Smoky shivered in fear.
The all clear finally sounded and it was time to assess the damage. The first shell had hit the ventilator, passing over Bill’s head when he hit the deck by the Jeep. Those who were standing there were hit. If the shell had hit two inches lower, it would have killed Bill and Smoky outright. Was that the bullet he had been saved for? Despite the creeping darkness, the gunners remained on duty and it was a blessing they did as another kamikaze plane hit that night.
What took place in the battles of the Mindoro Sea was something Bill and his fellow GIs would never forget. Continuing in convoy, they eventually reached the meeting point in Lingayen Gulf where the huge fleet awaited their orders to go ashore. The days and nights were never free of the noise of rifle fire as the men shot at something or nothing in the water, in their nervousness over what lay ahead.
On 9 January 1945, General Krueger, Commander of the Sixth Army, landed his first units on the western coast of Luzon. Almost 200,000 men moved across the 20-mile beachhead over just a few days. With support from the air, the army units marched in land. Krueger expressed annoyance that the 26th Recon Squadron was not in operation. Within days, they received their order to ‘Hit the beach’. The order had come through in the middle of the night and by dawn Bill and the rest of the soldiers aboard LST 706 were wading through the waist-deep water to walk the forty feet to the beach. Once out of the bow doors and down, Bill struggled with barrack bag over his shoulder, carbine in hand, cot in the other and Smoky under his arm. As they headed for the beach, other crafts were arriving, opening their bow doors and dropping the ramps for the men to run out. They met little resistance as the Japanese had not expected them to land at that point. Ten US divisions and five independent regiments battled on Luzon. It was the largest campaign of the Pacific War involving more US troops than were sent to North Africa, Italy and the South of France. Bill took a chance to grab some rations from the stockpile o
n the beach. He put some tins of peaches and meat in his bag knowing they would come in handy because no one knew what was going to happen next. After the tide went out, Bill and the others returned to the LST to retrieve the vehicles. Driving the Jeeps and trucks down the ramp, the red alert sounded. Bill gathered Smoky under his arm and took cover. An ammunitions dump had been hit and sheets of fire leaped into the sky.
Smoky was happy to be back in a Jeep and on the road, even if the roads were really only bumpy tracks. All the supplies were loaded onto the beach and dispersed from there. Meanwhile the priority for 26th Recon was to construct the E2 building as the photo laboratory was needed right away. Driving through the local villages, the evidence of warfare was all around with stone debris lying everywhere. Some of the local people broke away from their clearing up work and waved to the US soldiers. Out in the countryside, the paddy fields and nipa houses lined the route to Lingayen, the provincial capital eighty miles northwest of Manila where 26th Photo Recon had taken over a full office block. To reach this block, they had to negotiate the bulldozers and trucks operated by the combat engineers working hard to repair and prepare the airstrip. They were laying steel matting over the runway and the taxiway which lay just a mile away from 26th Recon’s new HQ. The 391st Night Fighter Group were camped down nearby but Bill and his colleagues decided to save time on setting up tents by moving into the empty local houses. The bamboo structures had roofs and sides made of palm leaves which kept out the heavy rain. A ladder stood at the entrance to each house so the upper rooms could be reached: the area under the house was where the chickens and pigs were kept. The bamboo floor was a danger to Smoky as her little feet could easily slip through the slats so Bill Smoky-proofed the floor by sliding a flat board under his cot so she could move around without getting hurt.
The local people were very supportive of the soldiers as they set up their accommodation. There was always the hope that they would receive payment in food as there was very little left to eat after a visit from the Japanese soldiers as they had passed through. Bill had seen some of the villagers taking food scraps from bins to feed to their families. When it was decided the soldiers should leave the locals’ houses and return to their tents, the villagers offered to help in the move and carry out some of the practical tasks in return for food and American dollars. It was a plan that worked very well for everyone. The food and the work and payment changed the lives of the locals who had been left with nothing. But this was still a war zone and the nightly explosions and hails of gunfire were a stark reminder of reality amongst the palm trees and the sand. Every time the red alert sounded, Bill knew he had to cup his hands over Smoky’s ears to muffle the sound. She was very nervous now and Bill was afraid that if he let her go, she would run away in fear.
The aerial photography was becoming more and more vital to the strategy of the war in the Pacific than ever before. Each day, a specially assigned pilot flew sets of prints collated by 26th Recon to MacArthur’s command post and to his generals. Admiral Nimitz and his fleet commanders received sets of images too. There was a general feeling that they were part of something bigger. It was not the first time they had experienced being under attack but it was the first time they had worked directly with the front line. The twenty-four-hour shifts at the photo lab put everyone under immense pressure so having Smoky there as a happy distraction was very welcome. She worked the same shifts as Bill and, when possible, Bill would do extra shows for the guys on the opposite shift. Smoky cheered everyone’s day.
A visit from Sergeant Bob Gapp from the Communications Section revealed a serious problem at the airstrip. ‘We need to get our telephone lines through a drainage culvert – it is eight inches wide and runs sixty feet under the taxiway,’ said Gapp. ‘I saw a newsreel where a cat did that in Alaska … and it seems Smoky is a smart dog and, I thought, maybe we could coax her through the pipe?’ He went on to explain that if Smoky could do this it would save days of work removing the steel matting, digging up the culvert, putting in the wire and reversing the process. If Smoky could do this she would, potentially, be saving lives and equipment.
But would Smoky go down the narrow pipe? Bill wanted to know just two things from Gapp: Could you see light at the other end of the pipe? And if she got stuck would they dig her out? Gapp confirmed both and on that basis only, Bill agreed to give it a try. They leapt into the sergeant’s weapons carrier and headed for the front line. The idea was to slip a length of lightweight string through Smoky’s collar; something that would break if she became caught. She would have to go down one of three drain culverts which sat side by side. Bill checked them all out and discovered only the middle one was straight enough to see light through to the end. Leaving Gapp with Smoky, Bill moved to the other end of the pipe but just as they got into place one of the new US fighter planes, the P-51 Mustang, taxied over the steel matting. The sound was deafening and poor Smoky shook in Gapp’s hands. Several P-38 engines were being turned over at the same time and the noise was just too much for Smoky. Her little body quivered as the noise shuddered through her tiny frame. Bill could sense this but he had to give this a try. Men’s lives were at stake here.
Eventually the engine noises stopped and Smoky was given time to calm down. After about twenty minutes watching Smoky’s progress, Bill and Sergeant Gapp decided it was time to go. ‘Come, Smoky, come,’ Bill shouted. He could make out a shadow of the little dog’s body at the entrance to the pipe. Her instinct was to turn back but Bill called again, ‘Come, Smoky, come.’ Smoky turned immediately and made her way down the pipe towards Bill. Bill’s heart was in his throat. All the time he was wondering how he could put his friend through this task. She had to cover sixty feet from start to finish. But a quick check on her as he looked down the pipe reassured him that she was fine and heading in his direction. ‘Come Smoky, come! Come on, baby, come on!’ he called. The string was still being fed through the tunnel so the men knew she was still moving ahead. Then, suddenly, Bill saw the amber of Smoky’s eyes just a few feet away. ‘Atta girl! Atta girl,’ Bill shouted. ‘She’s here!’
Breaking into a run, Smoky threw herself into Bill’s outstretched arms. Sergeant Gapp hurried over and pulled more of the line through before cutting Smoky free. Smoky had been promised a steak if she made it through the pipe and within a minute of Smoky emerging from the pipe, Gapp was on his way to fetch it for her. If ever a dog deserved a steak, it was this dog. Smoky’s action that day was a supreme addition to the war effort and the moment she accomplished her task Bill was aware that his dog’s status in the Pacific had been catapulted from mascot to war dog.
As war dog and all-round celebrity, Smoky was able to draw in big crowds whenever Bill put on one of his shows. With the help of his buddies, Bill constructed a small stage from bamboo and palm leaves for the performances which ran before or sometimes after the main picture at the camp cinema. Walking the tightrope, rolling along on the oil drum, playing dead were all part of Smoky’s repertoire as the raids became less frequent.
But the war was not over. Bill and his colleagues in the photo lab were still working flat out to provide the combined forces spread all over Luzon with prints showing enemy positions. Being one step ahead of the enemy was always the plan for regaining the Philippines from the Japanese and consequently many battles were fought and many lives lost on both sides in the process. It was a war of great personal loss and great tragedy. The sanctuary of the environment during its peaceful moments was the salvation of many. The sunsets and the balmy evenings became treasured parts of the day.
Bill asked the local seamstress to make some additions to Smoky’s coat: ‘Smoky Champion Yank Mascot SWPA 1944’ was added with a blank patch beside it for any future campaigns. A local carpenter was tasked to make a platform, ladder and sliding board for Smoky’s performance. The mahogany pieces were a genuine work of art. And so was the artistry of the squadron painter who continued the circus theme to match the other pieces Bill had brought with him from Biak
, but this time adding the insignia of the 26th Photo Recon Squadron which featured Donald Duck in a red flying helmet and yellow scarf on a cloud perch shooting with an aerial camera. Walt Disney had personally donated this design for the squadron. Smoky now had a full range of circus-themed equipment – now all she needed was a costume. For that, Bill had to look no further than the seamstress who rustled up a clown costume and others from remnants of a parachute.
Smoky was a very clever dog and that was not always evident from her stage act. It was the little things she did which impressed Bill more. If she was thirsty she would go over to the bag of drinking water in the centre of the squadron area and then catch the first passerby. By running between the man and the water and barking at the water bag she always managed to get her drink. Bill was very happy for Smoky to be everyone’s friend but he dissuaded people from teaching her new tricks as he did not want her to be confused over who was her master. In Bill’s mind, discipline was his territory alone and on more than one occasion her training saved her life. One day, when she was following another dog over a road, he came within inches of losing her. Fortunately she reacted immediately to Bill’s very loud, ‘Stand! Stay!’ And the truck rumbled by without doing anyone any harm. But it was a close call – Smoky had cheated death by no more than six inches.
Always feeling there was room for improvement when it came to the tricks and to discipline, Bill gained permission to use a house next to his tent as a rehearsal hall. As before, he covered the slatted bamboo floor with a sheet of plywood to safeguard Smoky’s feet and set about adding to the repertoire of tricks and refining the old favourites. He tried out a new combination act which involved jumping through a hoop and also introduced Smoky to the idea of spelling out her name in large cardboard letters. This became Bill and Smoky’s early morning routine before the 37°C heat of the day set in. And it was worth it. Bill really felt the show was ready to go on.
A Dog With a Destiny Page 5
