it would prove to be a black day for the German Army who were now beginning to realize the counterattacks by the Allies were becoming more decisive. By 18 September and the start of the Battle of St Mihiel, south-west of Verdun, the combined forces of the Americans, French and Canadians were ready to help turn the tide of the war. For the first time, the infantry were supported by an air strike of 1,000 aircraft and together they destroyed the German presence. It was the final time in the Great War that territory was deliberately recaptured from the Germans.
By 11 November 1918, the Germans had surrendered and the Armistice was signed in a railway carriage specially sited in the woods of Compiegne, near Beauvais. There was no further need to slice away territory and fight to take it back. It was all over. Or so it seemed.
While the bulk of the Allied Forces were going through the motions of the Armistice, American Forces were still entrenched at the confluence of Meuse and Argonne. It was the last stand of the war and in the desperate throes of the action to retain and regain territory and dignity, the frantic gunfire and grenade attacks were still taking lives. It was ironic that all through their eighteen months together in a foreign country and engaged in hostile activities, it was only in the last days of these horrific hostilities that Private Conroy sustained a serious head injury. A stray bullet embedded itself in Conroy’s skull and almost before he hit the ground Stubby was at his master’s side. He was used to tending to casualties by sitting with them and licking their wounds but this time the dog was agitated and only pacified when the stretcher bearers arrived to take Conroy to the field hospital.
Throughout his primary treatment, Stubby was alongside his master and no more than a whisker’s width away from him at all times. The aftercare was very protracted but that was not a problem as long as man and dog remained together. Lying with Conroy gave Stubby an opportunity to comfort other soldiers being brought in for treatment. Stubby would see them arrive on stretchers and then move in alongside them so he could lick their face, arms, hands, his big, rough tongue giving sign of affection and care. Stubby’s lick was often a reviving sensation and the one fond thing patients remembered when they woke.
Of course, Conroy received five-star treatment from Stubby during the time they were stretchered off the field and the weeks they were in the medical centre. But when it was decided the private should be moved to the American Hospital in Paris there was a doubt whether Stubby would be allowed to go too. It was one thing for field hospitals to accept mascot dogs but quite a different one for those hospitals located away from the front. Fortunately, the doctor in charge of Conroy’s case recognized the value of keeping this man and this dog together and pleaded the case with everyone he needed to. And Stubby, while licking his master’s hand, knew exactly what he had to do to cajole the medics into allowing him to travel with his master: just be his normal adoring self. And it worked. The soldier and his faithful Bull Terrier were bound for Paris in an ambulance that rocked and shook but still managed to get dog and patient where they needed to be and in a bed for the night.
Stubby had acquired a kind of celebrity status since the moment he joined the Army and went to war. The way Conroy and his fellow soldiers treated the dog with care and respect made onlookers aware that this dog was highly thought of – anyone thinking otherwise would be given short shrift by the soldiers. This dog was special and everyone seemed to see that. Certainly the people of Chateau Thierry were very grateful to the men of the 102nd Infantry, 26th ‘Yankee’ Division for liberating their beautiful town from the occupying Germans. And as a thank you to the division, the very talented women of the town worked on a special chamois