The Most Decorated Dog In History Read Online Free

battlefield and instinctively knew that he had to comfort them. Many a dying soldier’s last words were uttered to this loyal dog; words that may never have been spoken or shared with a human companion. He licked their faces and rested his paws on their hands as if to offer a close comfort. And the men reached out for the dog’s warmth and attention. They told him of their loved ones and the things they missed from home. They told him all that flashed before them in their final moments. Dogs will never repeat a secret or admonish a harsh word. For Conroy to share his dog in this was very special and everyone appreciated his generosity of spirit. Conroy had to become accustomed to the fact that, if his dog was missing, he could be sitting in no-man’s-land with another soldier awaiting the arrival of the stretcher bearers. Stubby soon learnt to recognize the ambulance crews and the first aiders and would let out a low bark to alert them to a casualty.
    Ironically, the more Stubby became the shared companion of the 26th ‘Yankee’ Division and the heavier the battle became, the stronger the bond between Conroy and his faithful dog grew. Under the strain of battle, there was something that made them feel mutually responsible for each other. What had started as an accidental friendship was now a partnership strengthened by hardship and the pressure to protect was running high. ‘Stubby, stay close now. Don’t wander,’ Conroy was often heard saying. The soldier was afraid the dog would be too far away for him to protect if there was a gas attack and he needed his mask. And he was right to worry. No sooner had the words left his mouth than Conroy felt Stubby shuffling out of his grasp. Stubby could sense something his master could not.
    Wrestling free of Conroy’s grasp, Stubby stood square and pushed his head up and back as far as it would go. He sniffed the air. Suddenly he started to bark and run round until he had Conroy’s full attention. Then he started his routine of burying his body under clothing or in stores or whatever was lying about until only his hind-quarters were visible. By now, the men knew exactly what was going on. ‘Gas! Gas! Gas!’ the call went down the line as gasmasks were pulled on before the whiff of mustard gas had a chance to cause any harm to the men. Several minutes later, the morning mist took on a ghostly pallor and picked up pace moving into the dips and gulleys of the trenches. ‘Gas! Gas!’ a runner called, appearing out of the ghostly gloom with the warning that would have been too late for many.
    Stubby’s gift for giving advance warning of a gas attack was partly due to personal experience – he had been gassed himself. It was only on one occasion but the experience left its mark. As the unit was advancing over open ground, a gas shell landed and broke by Stubby’s paws. He had no chance of escaping the poisonous cloud. Conroy picked up his beloved dog in his arms and ran back to the trenches where the medic was called. Stub-by’s eyes were deeply affected: the gas had sealed his eyelids shut and they were oozing horribly. There was nothing Conroy or his team of dedicated helpers could do but continue to bathe his eyes and wait for signs of recovery. Stubby lay on his cot for days without moving. He did not respond to the gentle touch of the soldiers tending to him. He could not even manage a whimper. The sadness was overwhelming for Private Conroy. He feared the worst and wished that he could conjure up a picture of his dog running free and happy on the Yale Field. All he needed was a sign to give him a glimmer of hope and, after a week of stillness and silence, he got it. One evening, as the soldier sat by his dog talking to him about happier times and familiar things, an incredible thing happened: Stubby wagged the stump of his tail. It must have taken enormous effort on the dog’s part, he was so weak. Conroy could not help but shed a tear of relief.
    During the time he