Renni the Rescuer (12 page)

“Why shouldn't your Renni be able to do the work? Nonsense! Just because he's young? My Hector was young too when he began. Of course, not quite as young as your dog. But that's just a way the old fussbudget has of showing his importance.” He jerked his shoulder scornfully in the captain's direction. The latter was busy detailing the stretcher-bearers and the dog-handlers, whom he assigned according to a prearranged list. Three bearers and a dog-handler to each battalion.

“Be sure to remember your assignments,” he warned. “They'll be the same in case of war unless—” he looked at George meaningly—“unless there's a change made first.”

“Very well, sir,” growled Nickel with a tinge of scorn in his voice.

One after another started off with the stretcher-bearers.

“You have the farthest to go,” a comrade cried to George as he hurried past.

“Double quick!” roared out the commander behind them. “That means you. This is no Sunday stroll.”

“Come, Renni,” George said softly and darted off. Renni kept step with him but did not pull at the leash, did not pant, held to a steady gait. They reached their battalion, took their position behind the ranks. The three bearers patted Renni, who accepted their caresses calmly.

“A beautiful animal,” said one.

Another had news. “Likely we'll see action before the day's over.”

“Where?” asked the third. “The enemy's a long way off.”

“Enemy?” thought George. “Renni and I shall have no enemies, even in war.”

“Battalion, forward march!” The mass of men began to move.

“Where's the band?” someone asked.

“Ass!” was the answer. “These manœuvres are on a war footing. There won't be any band.”

Another added, “Oh, well. When we start home there'll be plenty of that oompah-oompah-oomp.”

From the air overhead came the mighty hum of propellers from a squadron of planes. Renni lifted his head.

“There's your music,” laughed someone.

“Those are our planes,” another cried.

Renni was still looking up in astonishment. George was on the point of saying, “Quiet, old boy,” but it wasn't necessary. Renni was quiet. He had only given way to his curiosity for a few seconds.

“When we get to the woods,” came a voice from the rank and file, “once we get to the woods, we won't have to march in close rank any longer.”

Another voice corrected him. “Maybe we'll deploy sooner than that.”

Two hours passed. Three. March, march, march. The heat was getting oppressive. Suddenly there came a crash from in front, rather close. Anti-aircraft batteries. George looked anxiously at his dog. Renni pricked up his ears just once, but that was all the note he took of the artillery thunder. Again came the whirring of motors in the air—this time from the opposite direction, and this time Renni gave no sign whatever that he noticed them.

“Skirmish lines! Skirmish lines! Deploy!” came the order. “Rifles ready! Forward!”

In the twinkling of an eye the close-packed mass dissolved, scattered and, as it dipped into the forest, became invisible. Now the cannon began to roar, shaking the earth with explosions, but not shaking Renni's calm.

“Fine, old boy! Fine! Better than I ever expected.” George could not keep from hugging him.

“Artillery preparation,” said a soldier. “The order to charge will come soon.”

From far away came the deep booming of the howitzers. The machine guns clattered sharply.

“I'd never have thought the fun would start so soon.” Some man screamed the words at the top of his voice, but with all the uproar he could hardly be heard.

“Soon!” cried another. “You idiot! The fun's been going on for hours.”

“Charge!” cried a voice of command. And “Charge!” was repeated down the line.

The drums whirred the charge. The trumpets blew the charge. As though carried along by a storm wind the force whipped on, a column of tanks at their head, hurling lightning; another column of tanks came to meet them, spitting flame. Renni in the midst of all this madness seemed utterly unconcerned. The infernal nerve-shattering racket left him perfectly cool. All of a sudden he stopped, sniffed the air, pulled the other way. George unsnapped his leash and Renni raced off.

After a little while he led George to a soldier who had fainted and was lying unconscious on the ground. By the time the three stretcher-bearers had given him a
stimulant Renni was off in another direction. He hurried swiftly back, urging George at the double quick to a sick man who was writhing in agony. Renni was quartering the ground here, there, everywhere. A major taking part in the charge called out, “Whose dog's that? He's too smart.” A number of soldiers pointed to George.

“You, there. Don't you hear me? Why don't you call your dog back?”

“I can't do that. The dog has spotted something and he's doing his duty.”

“Duty? Any wounded man ought to hold out till there's a pause in the fighting,” croaked the major.

The two of them were roaring at each other like mad, to make themselves heard above the tumult of the mock battle.

“The Major must know that in a real fight there'd be badly wounded men who'd need help in a hurry.”

“My dear fellow,” the major growled, “neither you nor your dog would live long in a real fight.”

George shrugged his shoulders. Renni gave him no time to answer. He was off and George must follow.

“That dog won't let any fellow that's hurt go without attention,” cried a soldier in the major's ear. “I never saw such a dog.”

“He'd be a sure candidate for death if the thing were serious,” shrieked the major.

“It would be too bad if he got killed,” the soldier grumbled to himself.

The charge went on. It seemed marvellous to George as he watched Renni slip between the rushing, fighting lines and get in no one's way. How careful he was not to let George out of his sight, while at the same time he urged the stretcher-bearers on. Everyone who saw the racing dog gaped at him.

“That's not a dog at all. He's greased lightning,” they said, or, “He's a regular Brother of Mercy,” or, “He's got more courage than most men.”

Renni found five more exhausted men in all the mêlée.

Twilight rolled its deep veils of shadow over the earth. Finally the trumpet sounded, “Cease firing!” The thunder of artillery stopped instantly, the planes vanished from
the sky, and only here and there a rifle shot resounded. Everything grew quiet. A silence brought to life by the now audible talking of the men. Nobody knew which army had been judged winner of the day. Nobody cared. Tired and thirsty as they were, their thought was only of food and drink, and they hailed with loud hurrahs the kitchen wagons which were attached to each company.

Renni, however, did not seem to have his mind on food. He scarcely noted the words of his master, and acknowledged his praise only by a brief swing of his tail. He stiffened, sniffed attentively into the dark, vanished. After a while he came back and begged George to come along. He ran ahead with short steps so as not to lose his master in the dark. By his leading George came on a boyish young lieutenant who had collapsed from thirst. Revived with some water and a few lumps of sugar the young man, much ashamed of himself, recovered enough to stagger off to his troop with George's help.

“Fine dog,” he kept whispering. “Good dog.”

Even yet Renni was not ready to rest. He went on
running back and forth across country, stopping, sniffing. Then he staged a seal feat. Without going first to investigate he urged his master and the stretcher-bearers to come with him. After quite a way the four men heard the very, very low moaning that the dog had caught long before. At last they bent over an unconscious man who had fallen and seemed to have injured himself seriously. All four helped carry him. Renni, well pleased with himself, strolled along behind. The man was bleeding from a wound on the head. One of the bearers ran off for a surgeon.

The whole troop—that is to say, all who were awake—came out to meet Renni. They crowded around him, overwhelmed him with praise. They brought him food and water. Renni, whose tongue was hanging out, drank eagerly and long, ate a very little and lay down on the ground.

“Now I know what it means to be ‘dog-tired,' ” said a sergeant-major in heartfelt tones.

“Well, old boy,” George asked, “are we through for today?”

Renni wagged his tail. George stretched out beside him. Both were instantly asleep.

The man with a head wound had been sent off in an ambulance, but they did not hear it. Nor did they hear the major when he came by and inquired, “Where's that eighth wonder of the world?”

“Sh, sh!” they said. “He's sleeping.”

To be sure, Renni raised his head for a second, but nobody noticed it, and he went to sleep again instantly. He did not hear the major's whispered words, “Let him sleep. He's earned it and he certainly needs it.”

V
ERY EARLY, LONG BEFORE daybreak, the second day's manœuvres began. As silently as possible the troops lined up. They slipped in loose formation up under the mountain and, in the pale light of breaking day, tried to climb the steep slope before them without being observed. They were almost completely successful. The whole regiment had all but reached the heights when the first burst of fire came from the enemy cannon massed there. The thunder
of the guns grew louder and louder. Immediately their own artillery laid down a barrage like a protecting storm. The regiment charged with irresistible fury, and the umpire ordered the “enemy,” surprised and overwhelmed, to retire. Their cannon fired over their heads as the hostile infantry withdrew and, since their squadrons of aircraft had taken the air first, the retreat now had to break into a rout.

“We've more than offset the advantage they had over us,” one of them said. “Because they marched so far yesterday, the fighting began early instead of in the afternoon.”

“They cut us up pretty badly yesterday.”

“We had to keep on the go clear up to evening.”

“Well, what price their victory now?”

“Just look at them run. And all we've got to do today is play.”

“Play? Where do you get that play stuff? We'll run till our tongues hang out.”

“That's right. We haven't had a smell of it yet.”

“We haven't the foggiest idea how things really
stand. It looks good for us right here, but that's no sign our boys aren't having a rough time of it somewhere else.”

“Any way you take it the infantry's got to do all the work.”

“Don't worry. The sooner we start the sooner we'll get the signal to quit.”

“All right, if that's the way of it.”

And so the soldiers went on talking.

* * *

The new day still kept its coolness. The sun was just rising and the soldiers were rested and cheerful. George marched along in the skirmish line, Renni at his left, and the three stretcher-bearers beside him.

Renni had had a drink of water and a few mouthfuls of good food and he danced about with a springy step, looking up joyfully at his master, who talked to him in a kindly tone all the time. George recalled happily how the captain had been worried because Renni was such a pup. He laughed.

“Well, that hard-boiled officer ought to have sense
enough to know he doesn't know anything.” He thought of Vogg and how indifferent he could be to his line of talk now, after all that Renni had done. Let him just go on believing that George had whipped his dog.

The sun burned down hotter from the hazy sky. An oppressive sultriness lay over the land. Marching became a wearisome business. Hours passed. None of the enemy was in sight. They marched on. Somebody called out, “This is the play you were talking about.” They marched on. Black clouds rolled up threateningly. When the storm broke with its first flash of lightning and peal of thunder, Renni pressed fearfully against his master. The roaring of man-made machines, a much more fearful racket than the storm, had made no impression on him, but the raging elements filled the brave dog with fear. With tail between his legs and a pleading look on his face he pressed closer and closer.

“What's the matter with you, fellow?” Renni jumped up on George, buried his head against his breast and seemed to beg, “Protect me.” George pretended to be calm and cheerful and kept petting him, but he could
not revive the dog's courage. The instant the thunder and lightning, the roaring of the winds, came to an end and the quick rain began to fall, Renni grew easy, though now and then he still cast an anxious glance at the sky.

For a little while the rain cooled the men off. Then they suffered again from the close, damp air. They felt the heat worse then ever. Suddenly they were fired at from both sides. They had fallen into an ambush and were being riddled. They had to fight now and they had their dander up. The mad burst of cannon fire began again, the chattering of machine guns, the howling of propellers, the rattle of musketry which sounded like banners cracking in the breeze. The men threw themselves on the wet, rain-soaked earth. Again Renni did exactly what was expected of him. He crouched down like the soldiers and crept along the ground sniffing in deep breaths. George had good reason to know that he was doing it all of his own accord.