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
