Judy: The Unforgettable Story of the Dog Who Went to War and Became a True Hero (9 page)

Just twenty-four hours after the sinking of the USS
Panay
, Nanking itself fell, and what became known as the Rape of Nanking ensued. As many as 300,000 Chinese were killed in the most horrific ways. This was still an undeclared war: Japan had yet to formally declare hostilities with China. But with news of the Nanking Massacre reaching foreign ears, strong diplomatic protests were
lodged—first and foremost by the governments that still had gunboats on the Yangtze and that were receiving eyewitness accounts of the terrible happenings.

In light of the nightmare unfolding ashore, the British and American gunboats continued with their river patrols as best they could, but always in the face of mounting Japanese aggression, particularly against the locals. By March 1938 the
Gnat
found herself in Kiukiang [now Jiujiang], 400 kilometers upriver from Shanghai. She was there to find out which British residents were willing to evacuate in light of the relentless march of Japanese forces inland.

Typically, a somewhat exasperated Captain Waldegrave reported in his March letter to Rear Admiral Holt that the British residents in Kiukiang were intending to remain where they were “throughout all hostilities.” Mr. and Mrs. Porteous, Miss Rugg, and Miss Luton, all Christian missionaries of the China Inland Mission, were intent on maintaining a very British stiff upper lip in the face of the Japanese invaders.

Of course, the captain of the
Gnat
was unable to force any British citizens to evacuate. All he could do was have a word with the local British Safety Committee—a Home Guard–like setup formed by the handful of British citizens resident in the area—in an effort to put some procedures in place should the Japanese turn against British nationals when they overran Kiukiang, as they surely would in the next few days.

The sympathies of the British gunboat crews in this unfolding conflict—plus their animal mascots—lay fully with the Chinese. They had Chinese crewmen serving on their ships, they had befriended many locals along the river during the long years spent on duty there, and there were any number of British sailors who had fallen in love with a local girl and stayed behind to raise a family with her.

In fact, the crew of the
Gnat
—Judy included—had officiated over one such marriage recently, during a stopover in Shanghai. Chief Petty Officer Charles Goodyear served on the
Bee
, but he was a close friend of both Vic Oliver, the man who had rescued Judy
from the Yangtze, and of the dog herself. It was only right that both were invited to his wedding—proof of how love could flourish in the midst of war.

CPO Goodyear's chosen bride was a Russian barmaid—and widow—then serving in the Pig and Whistle bar in Shanghai. After the wedding the crew of both the
Bee
and the
Gnat
had retired to the Pig and Whistle to celebrate the nuptials. An aged Chinese soothsayer with the ability to read a person's future was persuaded to examine the palms of a number of the sailors. Of course, the groom had to be among them. But when the soothsayer had scrutinized Goodyear's palm, he'd blanched visibly and refused to say a word.

Most of those present had teased Goodyear remorselessly, but not Vic Oliver. He'd felt a strange conviction that the soothsayer
was
able to tell the future and that Goodyear and his bride would have little time together in a world about to be torn apart by war. Certainly, if their Yangtze campaign was anything to go by, the forces of Japanese aggression were going to prove nearly unstoppable.

The gunboat men were powerless to act as the Japanese drove the Chinese resistance relentlessly backward. Japanese soldiers took Kiukiang, from which the British residents had doggedly refused to evacuate. With barely a pause they pushed onward toward Hankow—the Yangtze gunboats' “home city,” the headquarters of the Strong Toppers Club, and the place where only months earlier Judy had dragged the unfortunate Tankey Cooper into the cesspit.

In the face of the bloody conflict, all aboard the
Gnat
had to strive to remain neutral—including a ship's dog who had as a young puppy herself fallen victim to the cruelty of the Japanese military. Judy seemed to have been blessed with an unfailing instinct for detecting which of her two-legged fellows were dog lovers and which were inclined to view her either as a potential tasty meal or as the enemy. And it was to be in Hankow that she would next come face to face with her tormentors. But first there were old acquaintances to renew, plus some sad and heartfelt farewells to be dealt with.

It was early April 1938 when the
Gnat
found herself again based at Hankow. Hankow being her home port away from home, there was the inevitable local fixer and master of all trades there, one who had made it his business to tend to the crew's every need. In Portsmouth, the
Gnat
's British home port, there had been “Tubby” Greenburgh, a rotund and jolly naval tailor from whom the men could always borrow ten shillings on “blank” days—those immediately prior to payday—interest-free and sealed with nothing more than a handshake.

Here in Hankow, Tubby Greenburgh's equivalent was Sung. For reasons lost in the mists of time Sung was better known to all who sailed the Yangtze as Joe Binks. A huge bear of a man, Joe Binks would beam with undisguised good humor as the men poured forth from the
Gnat
intent on some quality shore time, but he reserved an especially warm welcome for the
Gnat
's ship's dog.

Joe Binks was the
Gnat
's official Hankow comprador—the man charged with supplying the ship with all the food and other stores she might require. He often brought his wife and four young children with him when doing business aboard the British gunboat, and the children in particular delighted in Judy's company. In spite of being bred for the hunt, English pointers generally display an instinctive love of children, and Judy adored being in the presence of the Sung youngsters.

Dashing about the ship, hiding in her favorite cubbyholes, and challenging the kids to find her—these were some of Judy's happiest moments amid all the tension and chaos of the war-torn lower Yangtze. Cries of delight from the children indicated that they'd discovered her, but Judy would rapidly turn the tables by dancing excitedly from paw to paw, then going rigid and seeming to point at the children's bulging pockets—for the Sung youngsters always came bearing tasty gifts for
Shudi
, the peaceful one.

Judy's next-best friend among the locals was known to all simply as Sew-sew. The reason for the nickname was self-evident: she was tasked with carrying out any sewing or other repairs required for clothing or furnishings aboard the
Gnat
. Sew-sew would spend her
time perched on a stool on the open deck, needle and thread flashing in the sunlight as she attached a new white tape to the collar of a formal mess jacket, all the while talking in her soft singsong voice to her chief companion, an enraptured Judy.

But perhaps Judy's foremost family of friends among the locals was the Amah brood. Amah herself was a woman of fierce repute along the Hankow Bund. Her entire family lived in a small rattan-covered sampan that was tied up on the dockside. Contracted to the British Admiralty, Amah had fought for and won the right for her boat to be used as the British gunboats' “general use” vessel. She and her children spent their day ferrying men and matériel from ship to shore and back again, or if there was no demand for her ferry services, she'd busy herself touching up the paintwork on a gunboat's hull.

Judy had grown to adore Amah and more specifically her children. Whenever she got the chance she'd leap from the
Gnat
into the sampan, and standing proud on the bow she'd oversee operations as Amah ferried a group of sailors to shore. But by far her favorite moment was when she was able to dart beneath the boat's rattan covering, whereupon delighted squeals and shrieks would reveal that she was having a fine rough-and-tumble with Amah's children.

Such were Judy's special friends at Hankow, and via her local family she was doubtless able to get in touch with her feminine side. But on the troubled lower Yangtze in 1938 it was perhaps inevitable that few such extended families would remain intact for very long, not even those aboard the gunboats.

Inevitably, there was a churn among the British crews, as those who had completed their two and a half years of “foreign service” were rotated back to the UK. Many were reluctant returnees. Especially in the middle of a conflict like that currently unfolding, the life of a gunboat man was exciting and fraught with danger, which made it strangely compelling. By contrast, England in 1938 remained a land of stability and peace, offering none of the young sailors the buzz they could expect when patrolling the Yangtze.

But as with all good things, every crewman's gunboat posting had to come to an end. Sadly for Judy, it was now the turn of her foremost shipmates to be rotated back to England. Vic Oliver, who'd plucked her out of the Yangtze; Tankey Cooper, who'd plucked her out of the Hankow cesspit; and Chief Petty Officer Jefferey, who'd plucked her out of the Shanghai Dog Kennels and chosen her as ship's dog—all were going home. In light of the loss of so many of her close family, perhaps it was serendipitous that Judy was about to start a family of her own . . .

After heartfelt good-byes between those who were departing and the dog they were leaving behind, replacement crewmen came aboard the
Gnat
. Among them Judy seemed to take an instant liking to two very distinctive individuals. One was an easygoing giant of a man, Leading Seaman Law. The other, Able Seaman Boniface, better known to all as Bonny, was a real joker and was to become the character of the ship. It was to be Bonny and Law who'd perform the pivotal role in Judy's forthcoming motherhood.

A French gunboat, the
Francis Garnier
, had docked opposite the
Gnat
, with an American vessel, the USS
Tutuila
, pulling in alongside. At first the arrival of the two Allied gunboats was seen as being a good excuse for some fine-spirited hospitality. The crew of the USS
Tutuila
was invited aboard the British ship for
limited
use of the ship's canteen—in other words, her stock of beer. The beer was expected to last only until April 26, before rationing would again be required.

After a fine evening's Anglo-American carousing, the crew of the
Gnat
challenged their Yankee fellows to a rifle match. It was a close-run thing: the British sailors won by one point. But from the
Francis Garnier
, the
Gnat
's crew was about to receive an altogether more unexpected challenge—and very much more than they had ever bargained for.

It was Bonny who first noticed Judy's odd behavior. He was seated in the crew's mess, in the bows of the ship, trying to concentrate on the letter he was writing to his sweetheart back in Portsmouth. But whenever he seemed to get the words he was composing in his head
just about right, Judy would get to her feet, whine insistently, wander about unhappily, then flop back down again.

Finally, she padded across to the ladder leading to the main deck and fresh air and stared upward with a fixed expression on her features. Then she turned imploringly to Bonny with the most heart-melting look in her eyes that he had ever seen.

Bonny put down his pen and stared right back at her. “How d'you expect me to persuade the barmaid in the Air Balloon that it's all right for me to take her on holiday without her mom if you keep moaning and fidgeting?”

Judy flicked her gaze back to the ladder, then pinned Bonny once more with that pleading look.

Bonny got to his feet. “What's up with you? You want to go for a little walk, is that it? Go on, then—up we go!”

Judy had become a fine hand at navigating the ladder, which was set at a thirty-degree angle with wide steel rungs like steps. Bonny followed, and together man and dog hung out on deck for a good few minutes. It was then that Judy took the initiative and led them down the gangway to the
Gnat
's mooring, which was next to an old hulk of a merchant ship with all her masts and riggings removed.

Expecting Judy to want to run around and play, Bonny was more than a little surprised when all she seemed interested in doing was parading up and down the bare deck of the hulk. Head held at a proud slant, tail up and flying like a signal flag, she sauntered back and forth in a most uncharacteristic fashion. It was odd. Very odd. Bonny was at a loss to understand what she was doing.

Then he happened to glance across to the far side of the hulk, where the
Francis Garnier
was tied up. Suddenly the penny dropped. On the French ship's bridge was a very distinctive looking four-legged crew member whose eyes were glued to Judy of Sussex's every regal move. But what struck Bonny most was this: though slightly taller and broader of chest than Judy, the
Francis Garnier
's ship's dog could have been her brother.

He was an uncannily similar liver-and-white English pointer.

Chapter Six

Bonny stared at the
Francis Garnier
's dog in surprise. As for Judy, she seemed to think that her work here was done. With a jaunty shake of her rear quarters she proceeded to turn tail on the French gunboat and her smitten admirer and saunter back up the gangway of the
Gnat
.

Bonny shook his head in amazement. “So that's what it's all about, then. But how like a typical female! She must have known he was there, yet she didn't so much as look at him. Just showed herself off, then disappeared!”

In no time the courtship became the stuff of legend. In contrast to Judy, Paul, the
Francis Garnier
's dog, made no attempt to disguise the fact that he had fallen head over heels in love. Now that he knew the object of his desire lay so tantalizingly close, he was forever breaking free and careering down the French vessel's gangway, ending up spread-eagled on the hulk in his haste to get close to her.

Unperturbed, he'd bound back and forth across the open deck like a medieval knight in a heavy suit of armor, unaware that Judy would be watching in disdain with bared teeth and curled lip. Finally, in a desperate effort to gain her attention and curry her favor, Paul hammered along the entire length of the hulk at top speed, legs thrashing in a super canine show of male prowess. Unfortunately, he'd miscalculated his stopping power on the smooth deck.

With a despairing wail the French ship's dog sailed off the bow and ended up in the harbor with a loud splash. Ironically,
it was now that Judy finally showed her true feelings. She sprang to the
Gnat
's rail, barking in alarm as her beau beat a path through the water toward her. Sensing that he couldn't scale the sheer side of the British gunboat, Judy raced down the gangway with Bonny close behind. With Judy peering over the edge and continuing to bark urgently, Bonny reached down, grabbed Paul's thick collar, and hauled him out of the water.

The French dog was soaked from head to toe. But his ducking and his near humiliation would prove more than worth it in the end—for in making himself a laughingstock Paul had managed to break Judy's icy English reserve. Without any further dissembling on her part she proceeded to lick his face dry, nuzzle against his wet body, and paw him all over.

Bonny stared at the two of them in amazement. From being a total no-hoper, via his exuberant misfortune Paul had gone in an instant to being the first love of Judy's life. All of a sudden this had the promise of a match made in heaven. In which case, Bonny decided, the men of the
Gnat
needed to give their ship's dog a good talking to.

By now Judy was approaching two years old, the equivalent of her early twenties in human years. Bonny figured she was as ready as she'd ever be to have a litter, and with the
Francis Garnier
's dog being on hand they had a golden opportunity both to strengthen the entente cordiale and to breed a fine line of Franco–English pointers. But that didn't mean that any nuptials could be entered into without Judy being fully acquainted with the facts of life, not to mention her responsibilities.

On the afternoon of Paul's tumble into the harbor, five chosen men of the
Gnat
sat around the mess table, on which was perched a carefully groomed Judy of Sussex dressed in her smartest collar.

Bonny eyed her with a serious expression. “We feel that the time has come when we need a proper talk. We are so to speak your legal guardians, and we naturally want to do the best for your happiness. But you'll understand that everything must be done properly and in accordance with the rules.”

He paused to let his words sink in. Judy cocked her head to one side quizzically. It was as if she was saying:
come on—get on with it!
At the same time she flicked out her tongue to lick Bonny's hand as if to reassure him that she was glued to his every utterance.

Bonny nodded, happy she was paying proper attention. “Now, Paul is doubtless a very nice dog, with a pedigree too. Plus they are a very nice bunch on the
Francis Garnier
. So we've decided you can get engaged today and if all goes well you'll be married tomorrow. But only on one condition—that you name your first pup Bonny.”

Judy appeared to nod her agreement, and so one of the ship's engineers proceeded to lift her left paw and slip over it an anklet designed for this very occasion.

“That,” he announced, as he closed it more tightly around her ankle, “is your engagement ring.”

Judy stared at the loop of silver for a long moment. She knew from the tone and demeanor of the men gathered around her that something of great import was afoot, but she perhaps didn't quite understand yet what all this signified.

The very next day Judy and Paul were to be married. They were led forth onto the center of the hulk so that both crews could watch the ceremony. Bonny officiated, together with his opposite number from the French ship. As the men of both vessels cheered and clapped enthusiastically—and a group of perplexed locals gathered to scratch and shake their heads—Bonny proceeded to pat both dogs on the head and rounded off the ceremony as appropriately as he could.

“And so, with no further ado I am pleased to pronounce you . . .” He struggled for a moment to find the right words. “Dog and bitch?” He glanced around the crowd, hoping for some inspiration. “Paul and Judy?”

Then a heavily accented voice called out from the bridge of the
Francis Garnier
. It was their first lieutenant. “One!” he cried. “Pronounce zem one!”

“Perfect—I pronounce you one!” Bonny confirmed.

And so Judy of Sussex and Paul of Paris—Paris because it sounded classy and thoroughly romantic—were duly married.

Paul was permitted onto the
Gnat
, where a special love nest had been constructed for the two dogs. After three days in doggie heaven he was returned to the
Francis Garnier
complaining loudly, but all were deaf to his protestations.

As was perhaps fitting, Judy would bring new life into the world just as death and destruction threatened to engulf all around her. During the weeks since her romantic liaison with Paul she had grown plumper and plumper, her eyes shining with anticipation of her soon to be realized responsibilities. But at the same time Japanese warplanes had started hitting the heart of the Chinese resistance hard, targeting the city of Hankow first and foremost.

As the war along the Yangtze intensified, the Japanese Imperial Air Force deployed its modern twin-engine Mitsubishi G3M medium bomber, operating from land bases in Japan. Specialist units were formed to fly missions across the East China Sea, carrying out mass bombing raids over China's key cities. The Mitsubishi G3M carried 800 kilograms of bombs—many times the payload of the carrier-based biplanes that had previously attacked the Yangtze gunboats—and boasted a 4,400-kilometer flight range.

None of these warplanes had yet targeted the gunboats tied up at the Hankow Bund. But each time they roared over the city, Judy would curl herself around her distended stomach, as if in an effort to safeguard her unborn litter, and snarl defensively at the skies. She was learning to hate these giant angry birds that pounced from the heavens, unleashing death and destruction and threatening to snuff out the lives she was carrying before they could even be realized.

But the morning duly came when—as yet another wave of Japanese bombers thundered through the skies above Hankow—there was the miracle of birth aboard the
Gnat
. A tired and unshaven Bonny (the
Gnat's
self-appointed midwife) tumbled down the steps to the mess deck.

“They're here!” he yelled triumphantly. “All thirteen of them!”

There was a rush for the ladder as the crew jostled one another to be first to see the new arrivals, not to mention their proud mother.
Sure enough, squeezed into a ship's basket that seemed barely able to contain them were thirteen tiny replicas of Judy—each liver-colored from the neck up just like their mother but with several also exhibiting their father's distinguishing white streak running from forehead to nose.

Of the thirteen pups three of the weakest quickly perished, leaving ten to grow fat on their mother's milk. Lying protectively with her brood, Judy appeared to be the perfect mom, and not even the constant stream of well-wishers who poured aboard the
Gnat
appeared able to disturb or discomfit her.

She seemed happy to show off her babies to all and sundry—Sew-sew, the Sung family, and Amah the boat lady's children included. But the one individual prevented from seeing them was the pups' father, Paul. Now that he'd done his business Judy seemed to have forgotten her French beau almost as if he'd never existed.

In no time at all, everywhere there were unsteady puppies tumbling about the
Gnat
, chubby little legs flailing as they tried to escape from the ship's crew, who were equally intent on ushering them back to their nest. They got into every conceivable corner, chewed anything even remotely chewable, and everywhere they left spreading puddles of puppy mess.

Only when they were old enough so that each could be taken on a leash for a walk did Paul finally get to see his offspring. He sniffed at them curiously, as if trying to work out if they were really his doing, before they were ushered back aboard the
Gnat
. No one wanted to be out in the open for very long. With Japanese warplanes menacing the skies, any outing around Hankow spelled danger.

One afternoon shortly after the puppies' first foray off ship, a squadron of Japanese bombers flew in to attack Hankow, using the river valley to mask their approach until the final moment. But Judy heard them coming. By now the attacks were so commonplace that she rarely had time or opportunity to issue her customary warning. Yet today she seemed to sense that this was different and that the enemy in the air was coming for her family—both her four-legged and two-legged ones.

Whining frantically, she called her pups to her, and as the bombers roared in to attack she attempted to wrap herself protectively around them, yelping out a desperate last-minute warning to the ship's crew. Seconds later the lead aircraft swooped over the
Gnat
, releasing its bombs. Like evil black demons they plummeted toward the vessel, but at the last instant their trajectory proved slightly off and they overshot the ship.

They hit the river ahead of the
Gnat
and detonated, throwing up huge plumes of tortured white water. The reverberations of the explosions punched through the ship's hull as a protective mother curled closer around her cowering brood and blasted river water rained down all around. Taken by surprise—so far, the Japanese had kept their promise, made after the sinking of the USS
Panay
, not to attack any neutral ships—the crew of the
Gnat
raced for their battle stations.

Behind the lead bomber the rest of the squadron thundered in. But as the
Gnat
's gunners swung the Maxim machine guns onto their target, a new sound rent the skies above the Hankow Bund—the howl of Pratt & Whitney Wasp radial engines. Judy couldn't know it and her fear for her brood was doubtless redoubled under the aerial onslaught, but a flight of ace fighters had flown to the rescue, and by the looks of things just in the nick of time.

A ragged volley of cheers went up from the deck of the ship as the distinctive snub-nosed forms of eight Boeing P-26 Peashooters dived to attack. The P-26 was the first American all-metal fighter aircraft ever built, and the Chinese Air Force operated several flights of the redoubtable warplane. The Japanese had already felt the wrath of the Peashooter's Browning machine guns, with a score of Mitsubishi G3M bombers having been shot down over Nanking.

In an instant the bombers targeting the Hankow Bund broke formation and jettisoned their bombs in an effort to lighten their load and escape. But some proved too slow. The Boeing P-26s were flown by Chinese pilots aided by a handful of ace British, American, and other volunteer airmen. They had swooped from where they'd been
flying a holding pattern at altitude, and they tore into the Japanese warplanes.

Two bombers were raked from nose to tail by the Peashooters' 7.62-mm machine guns. The Mitsubishi G3Ms shuddered under the onslaught before smoke and fire bloomed along their fuselages, and first one and then the other fell from the sky into the waiting Yangtze. The
Gnat
—and Judy and her brood with her—had been saved from what had seemed like almost certain annihilation, but the narrow escape only served to reinforce the urgent need to get the puppies out of danger.

Homes would need to be found for the ten pups, and quickly.

Unknown to any aboard the gunboat's crew, the timely appearance of those Boeing P-26 fighters wasn't quite as miraculous as it might have seemed. There was in place a secret early-warning system that signaled to the Chinese Air Force the impending arrival of enemy warplanes, and it was happening right under the very noses of the Japanese. Unwittingly, the British gunboat the
Gnat
had played a pivotal role in getting that early-warning system up and running.

Some months earlier Stanley Cotterrall, the
Gnat
's telegraphist—her Morse code operator—had been landed at Wuhu to undergo an urgent medical operation at the American Mission Hospital. During his recuperation the hospital had needed to send a signal to the Wuhu docks to secure the help of a doctor who was serving aboard a ship moored there. Cotterrall had offered to send one using Morse code, which he duly did using a mirror from the hospital roof, employing flashes of sunlight to alert the ship.

In due course the hospital staff asked Cotterrall to teach some of them Morse so that they could do the same for themselves in the future. One or two of the Chinese staff proved to be particularly enthusiastic pupils. They very quietly went on to learn radio operation as well, and under a cloak of absolute secrecy they proceeded to install a radio on the hospital roof.