would race back to Berlin, found that war really was hell. They watched men die ghastly deaths. They observed soldiers snap under the pressure and race out of the trenches into machine gunfire. But there was no turning back; no matter how many died or were wounded, each day both sides kept firing their weapons and prolonging a war that now seemed endless.
In the midst of this hell on earth, Stubby offered the men in the trenches unbridled love. Their mascot transformed himself into a morale officer. As such, Stubby was often more important than letters from home. The dog that barked encouragement during the battles sat in the soldiers’ laps during breaks. He shared their meals and listened to their fears. He never complained. The terrier’s gentle licks also soothed mental wounds that often ran deeper than physical injuries.
In April, the 102nd was given the task of taking the French town of Schieprey. As always, Stubby was at Conroy’s side. Early in the day, the Americans’ push rooted the Germans out of their position. As the enemy retreated they lobbed hand grenades back toward the rushing allied soldiers. A piece of shrapnel caught Stubby in the right foreleg and chest, knocking the terrier to the ground. Rolling over, the dog regained his footing and limped forward on three legs beside the advancing 102nd. Barking as he moved, he continued to stubbornly push forward until the battle ended. It was then Conroy got Stubby to the medics. They patched the dog up the best they could and shipped him back to a field hospital. There the pooch received the same care and attention as his human companions.
During his six weeks spent convalescing, Stubby entertained the men in the field hospital. He performed the series of tricks Conroy had taught him, always saluted visiting officers and became a favorite with the nurses. He posed for pictures, was the spotlighted subject of several of the letters to home and even crawled up and slept beside men who were deathly ill. In a few cases, Stubby’s small head was the last thing these men touched before they died. Doctors called him a hero for lifting spirits, but patients knew him more as an angel. His wet nose and gentle touch reminded them of their own dogs and home. In a sense, his daily rounds through the wards gave desperate men something to look forward to and live for.
Newspapers picked up on the exploits of the 102nd’s mascot and the little guy’s story found its ways across France and into publications in England and the United States. Thanks to the press coverage, by the time Stubby was declared well enough to return to his unit he had become a minor celebrity. But the dog’s war role was about to dramatically change. Just like men such as Alvin York, Stubby was about to see needs and grow to fill them.
During the summer, while staying in the trenches with the men, Stubby and the Americans were exposed to a killer that silently snuck behind the lines to strangle its victims. Sulfur mustards, more commonly known as mustard gas, were delivered in a wide variety of methods. Often men were completely unaware they had been exposed to the substance. If enough of the gas was ingested, a victim would die, but, even in small doses, the weapon had long-term effects on the body and mind. Once absorbed, the gas caused a wide variety of issues from lesions on the lungs to open body wounds. A nurse who worked in a field hospital described the way the victims suffered, “They cannot be bandaged or touched. We cover them with a tent of propped-up sheets. Gas burns must be agonizing because usually the other cases do not complain, even with the worst wounds, but gas cases are invariably beyond endurance and they cannot help crying out.” Those who survived the attacks often begged to die and those who died spent their last days in unbearable agony.
The gas that rolled into the trench where Stubby and the 102nd were fighting was a silent invader. The dog was the first to show the signs, as he began coughing and rolling in the dirt. Soon the men began itching and complaining their skin was on fire. Medics could do nothing and the victims were hurriedly shipped back to a hospital. Some of those exposed that day would die and many more would be unable to return to active duty. Even the men who managed to shake the effects would later have a myriad of health issues often including cancer.
Stubby was one of the lucky ones. Perhaps because he was low to the ground, he experienced only mild reactions to the gas. Within a couple of weeks he was back at Conroy’s side. Yet what happened on that day when the cloud of gas first found its way into the dog’s lungs would forever change the terrier and his role.
Even though Conroy and others ordered him to stay in the trenches, now Stubby refused to obey them. No longer did he bark to encourage his companions, instead, he perched on the top of trenches, remaining silent, his eyes forward and his ears cocked. And only when he heard the sound of gas being released or smelled the odor accompanying that sound did he move. Suddenly, with no warning, he became a barking bundle of energy racing from trench to trench, an energized ball of fur seemingly intent on reaching every soldier in the area.
At first the men thought Stubby had finally succumbed to what they called battle fatigue. They assumed his injuries and the gassing had resulted in his going crazy. Thus they figured his days on the front were over. But soon Conroy understood. The dog recognized the gas before the men did. Through his nose and sharp ears, he sensed it. Suddenly the men had a warning system. Because of the dog they would have the time to slip on their gas masks and cover their exposed skin.
No longer was Stubby ordered back in the bottom on the trenches; the dog was now their sentry and leader. The men followed the canine’s lead even more closely than they did their officer’s commands. And why not? The dog was saving countless lives every day. Thanks to their canine advanced warning system, the 102nd’s gas casualties were significantly reduced, and the company’s ability to wage war on the enemy was much more effective.
In the quiet moments, when the battle was not raging, men began to seek out the little dog. They held him in their arms and whispered thanks into his ears. Some had tears in their eyes. Stubby received treats along with praise and thanks. Some of the company’s officers even began to salute the dog. If all he had done was to serve as an advance gas warning system, Stubby would have had more value than a hundred men. Yet, as the army would soon discover, this dog’s battlefront education was about to open the door to his saving even more lives.
Perhaps because of his stays in field hospitals, Stubby also learned to listen for men in distress. Though no one ever understood how he distinguished between the enemy and members of his own military, the dog charged through fire and into no man’s land when one of his own went down. He stayed by the wounded man’s side until a medical team arrived. Sometimes that meant spending more than an hour in the midst of horrific fire from both sides. But his work as a medical spotter didn’t stop there.
In the noise of fearsome battles, he somehow picked up on men who had been injured and fallen into trenches. He would jump into the trench with an injured man, bark nonstop until help arrived, and then race to the next victim. He even developed the ability to sense when a man was dead or alive. If there was no hope, he moved on to a soldier who was in need of aid and had a chance to survive. The medical core grew so amazed by the dog’s instinct they tried to adopt him into their unit, but the 102nd would not give him up.
Stubby next developed the ability to hear the whine of artillery shells well before they could be picked up by human ears. More than that, he seemed to understand where the shells would land. Racing to that area, jumping up and down, and snarling, Stubby warned men to race from their positions and seek cover. As they did, the dog leaped into the bunkers with them. After the explosion he quickly emerged from the safety of the shelter and took up a post, sitting stone still, waiting until he heard the next shell coming.
Over the course of several months hundreds of men felt they owed their lives to the dog’s warnings. Soon Stubby’s companions held him in greater awe than they did General Pershing. As word filtered back to the States, families and even churches set aside time to pray for the little dog’s continued service in the field.
One of the next skills that Stubby gained was first noticed by Conroy during a lull in a battle. The dog was unceasingly barking even though there were no signs of enemy action. No
