THE MESSENGER

By Jane Scoggins

     When, in November 1916, Mrs Wilson suggested that Jack be a messenger for the Army, some of her friends and neighbours thought it a bit strange.

     ''Why', they asked, would a woman who had lost both her husband and her son to the war, want to give up her closest companion and comfort to a war that may not see his return? But Mrs Wilson had thought long and hard about this, and was sure it was the right thing to do. Not just for King and Country, but in memory of her husband, John, and son, Billy. Jack had no say in the matter, no say at all, but he would have done anything for Mrs Wilson; laid down his life for her if need be, which is probably what he would have to do if sent to the Western Front and enemy lines.

   The war was now in its second year and losses of life just across the English Channel were more horrendous than anyone could have ever imagined. The women at home in Britain were terrified on a daily basis that news would arrive at their doors about the death or maiming of one of their menfolk fighting in France. A few old men, sick younger men and boys of fifteen or under were all that was left in the towns and villages.

    The womenfolk held things together in tightly knit communities. Their sons, husbands, brothers and uncles, acquainted or related to one another, and closely linked through work, church, hobbies, streets and towns. The custom of drawing the curtains when news that a soldier had been killed at war had become the traditional sign to the surrounding neighbours that mourning for a dead family member was taking place. Sometimes several houses in a single street had curtains drawn at any one time, and the silence was very noticeable. Children temporarily stayed out of sight, despite cramped conditions indoors, and dogs sat dolefully beside their front steps, aware that something was very wrong, and that this was no time for play or barking.

   Jack, being of a sensitive nature, had been very aware of the sadness surrounding the Wilson household when first, the big, solid Mr Wilson, and then the cheerful son, Billy had not returned home. Mrs Wilson had wept and remained intermittently morose for some time. Mrs Wilson was, however, very comforted by Jack’s close proximity. She appreciated his gentle attentiveness and his empathy in the sharing of her sorrow.

    When Sergeant Clegg came to visit Mrs Wilson, he wiped his big army boots on her front doormat and respectfully removed his green serge army cap before stepping over the threshold of her terraced house. He waited to be offered a seat when she showed him into her tiny front parlour. When Mrs Wilson called his name, Jack came straight away from where he had been waiting in the kitchen. After introductions, Jack sat attentively beside Mrs Wilson.

    Sergeant Clegg explained the work of dogs as messengers in the Army, and their specific role on the Front Line. Sergeant Clegg was himself a dog handler and trainer. Mrs Wilson had told him about Jack’s abilities and temperament, and from his own observations of the dog’s intelligence and breed he was prompt in telling her that he thought it very possible that Jack would be accepted to join his regiment. A period of training would ensue before a commitment would be given. If Jack did not show aptitude he would be returned to her

    Sergeant Clegg, a kindly man, was keen to tell Mrs Wilson that messenger dogs were highly trained, highly respected, well cared for, and well-fed. Although sad at the thought of being without Jack, she felt comforted by Sergeant Clegg’s assurances.

    Jack had been Billy's dog, and she knew in her heart that her son would be proud to know that his mother was putting him forward for important military service, work that could save the lives of many men serving in the Army,

     When Sergeant Clegg had left the house, Mrs Wilson told Jack that he was a good boy and would do very well in the Army. She did not say more as she found herself reaching in her cardigan pocket for her handkerchief, and shedding a few tears.

    A week later Sergeant Clegg came back to collect Jack, and for Mrs Wilson to sign the paperwork. People from the street came out to wish Jack farewell, and to stand with Edna Wilson as she watched Sergeant Clegg’s van disappear around the corner, carrying the canine conscript. Aileen Thompson invited Edna back to her house for a cup of tea. It was a gesture in recognition of her sadness and courage and intended to soften the blow of separation. Another neighbour, Rosa Croft, commented that she thought Edna a heroine for giving up her beloved dog for such a good cause and that Jack would no doubt prove to be a real hero.

    Sergeant Clegg was as good as his word. He sent Mrs Wilson regular updates, in his own strong, clear handwriting on army stationery, telling of Jack’s progress in training for the Front. He reported that he had proved to be a quick learner, a fast runner and a determined achiever in the tasks set at training school. Sergeant Clegg also remarked on Jack’s intelligence and affection. Mrs Wilson had a slight pang of jealousy at the thought of Jack transferring his affections from herself to Sergeant Clegg but understood that this was absolutely necessary to enable Jack to take instruction willingly. It also indicated to her that by being willing, Jack was being well treated. She remembered how Jack had pined when Billy had gone off to war. For many weeks he looked out for him coming down the street and cocked his head if he heard a boy whistling like Billy. But as time passed he transferred his affection to Mrs Wilson and she had been grateful for this. It somehow made her feel closer to Billy. Sometimes she raised her eyes to the scullery ceiling when she was washing up in the chipped enamel bowl, and spoke out loud to her deceased son. It comforted her to speak out loud to him. It was a one-sided conversation of course, but she felt in her heart that he understood why she had taken the decision to offer Jack to the military. Although she communicated less so with her dead husband, John, in this way, she somehow felt that he would not have minded. He had been a good husband but not exactly the kind of man she could talk over her feelings with. Billy, on the other hand, had been a mother’s boy, a sensitive lad, whom she had nursed through measles and scarlet fever as a little boy of six. Through her fear of losing him during the epidemic, when so many children died, she had done her best to keep him well and safe as he grew up. By his teens he was a strong, wiry lad, He had wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and join the army when the call-up had come. Although only just sixteen his parents had agreed they could not hold him back. The fact was, of course, that there was not much choice in the matter. The Government, under Prime Minister Herbert Asquith, had more or less ordered that all able-bodied men over the age of sixteen sign up.

   There had been a fever of bravado that had fuelled the call to arms, instigated by the well-known poster of an admired soldier, Kitchener, whose imposing moustached face and pointing finger reached out with the words Your Country Needs You. Young men rose to the challenge that spoke to their manliness and self-esteem. At last, they could escape their dreary lives and take the path to certain adventure and heroism.

    News of Jack spread about the local streets and provided a welcome distraction. Mrs Wilson was happy to share the updates from Sergeant Clegg. She was sometimes stopped by complete strangers asking after Jack.

    Reports about Jack, once he had been dispatched to the Front, were less frequent and quite terrifying at times to Mrs Wilson. She had had less news from her son and husband, who wrote little about the terrors of the war, the agonies of the men and the hellish conditions.

    From the letters about Jack, Edna learned more than she had ever done from the carefully worded letters from her spouse and child. The horror of war became real to Mrs Wilson through the scenes described of mud and chaos, and the horrors of the men’s injuries. She loved her husband and son even more for their bravery when she realised the terrible conditions and fear that they had lived with day by day, night after night, without respite. The only way out was by death, the only way home was by serious injury.

    In November 1917 an injured soldier from Sergeant Clegg's East Anglia Division came to visit Mrs Wilson. She welcomed him into her house and did not flinch at the sight of his badly disfigured face. He had returned home from Passchendale, after being shot, and losing the sight in his right eye. He had volunteered to visit Mrs Wilson and give her news of Jack. Jack, he said was still very much part of the regiment and all the men regarded him as a hero. He had saved many lives, including his own, and had often sat stoically beside injured infantrymen, giving them comfort as they lay dying in no-mans land. Corporal Green explained how Jack had lain across his bleeding and unconscious body until a fellow soldier had spotted him and hauled him back into the trenches as soon as it was safe enough to reach him. He was able to give Edna the sort of information that she had been longing to hear, but which was too secret to write about in letters from so close to enemy lines. She was told that Jack, and two other dogs, were used to carry messages in canisters around their necks to and from officers along the lengths of the trenches, across stretches of deeply rutted, wet, muddy terrain that a man would have struggled to cross quickly and safely enough due to his weight, and would have been an easy upright target. The dogs were light, fast, focused and ran close to the ground, often unseen and mainly out of target. When lines of communication were down the success of the dogs carrying messages to and from, was crucial to maintaining essential contact. The dogs had sometimes been caught in the crossfire and injured, but somehow always managed to get back to base, even if it took a whole day. Mrs Wilson cooked tea for Corporal Green before she sent him on his way. At the door, she was tempted to reach up and kiss his young ravaged cheek. But instead, she shook his hand, and as an afterthought lifted it to her face and lightly kissed the back of his hand.

    Edna Wilson felt humbled and yet sustained by that single afternoon visit from the injured corporal, and often thought about him and about Jack. Occasional short letters were received over the next few months, but they held little information, except to say that Jack had survived another gunshot wound, and damage to a paw from barbed wire.

     When, at last, the war with Germany ended in November 1918, the surviving troops began to straggle home, Mrs Wilson was at first swept up with the relief and elation and joined in celebrating with the whole country. Whilst the feeling of relief that the war over remained, Mrs Wilson felt sad with the renewed realisation that neither her husband nor her son would be returning home to her. It was a bitter pill. What sweetened it to some extent, was the news that Jack had survived and was coming home. It was Corporal Green who brought Jack home. Thinner and now limping from his wounds, Jack was none the less delighted to be home. Recognising Mrs Wilson he went to her with his tail wagging and as fast as his limp would allow. The whole street came out to make a fuss of him and admire the home-made serge jacket he was wearing, with badges of commendations for bravery pinned on.

     After a month convalescing at home, Jack was much improved. Life settled down for Jack and Mrs Wilson. Thanks to Jack , Mrs Wilson began to socialise more and it wasn’t long before she met Bert, a widower who made her laugh again. He had a little Yorkshire Terrier who got on well with Jack and they would all go for walks together.

     When a letter came from the Prime Minister's office, commending Jack for his work during the war, Mrs Wilson was touched and proud and had it framed. A few weeks later she received another letter from an organisation who trained guide dogs for the blind. It explained that as a result of their war injuries many servicemen had lost their sight and were struggling with rehabilitation and work prospects. The organisation was recruiting suitable dogs to act as guides and companions to these men and women. Jacks name had been put forward to them and they wondered if Mrs Wilson would consider allowing him to join the training programme.

    Edna and Bert talked it over and agreed that Jack would be ideal although they would miss him very much.

    The following year saw Edna and Bert married. Although they had a new puppy they never forgot Jack. For the rest of his working life, they visited him regularly. When Jack was ready for retirement he came home, to be loved and cherished for the hero that he was.

 

Copyright Jane Skoggins