One of the most picturesque phases of the great war is the work of dogs, trained for Red Cross work and to act as sentinels. The French especially have developed this branch of the service. In each corps area camps have been established for the dogs, and they are conducted with the same methodical precision or military routine as is found in the camp of any other corps of a division. Captain A. J. Dawson of the British army, in his hook “For France” (Hodder & Stoughton), describes the camp life and duties of these dogs. He says:
The dog camps consist of huts, as in the case of the men’s camps; but there is no front wall to these huts, and alongside the inside of the hut are neat kennels, all numbered, and looking like miniature stalls in stables, except that each is separately roofed. The dogs have their drill, parade and maneuvering grounds, just as soldiers have; their administrative center or orderly room: their cookhouse, dressing station and hospital, supply and equipment store and all the usual accessories, with the possible execution of the canteen.
The very first lesson that a French war dog has to learn is that of obedience to the simple order, “Still!” or “Stay there!” Next is sentry-go, not merely to remain in one spot, but while there to keep a sharp look out in a given direction and in that direction only.
A tour of duty at the sentry post may last, no more than five or ten minutes, to begin with; but, before even it sees the trenches, the war dog has learned to watch out to its front with the eyes of a lynx, and without a turn of the head, for several hours on end: and the dog does it not only with efficiency and thoroughness, but with great and very evident pride.
No sound, may have been made that any human ear could possibly have caught from the sentry post, but the dog’s ears are a deal more sensitive and have been trained, and it is taught to use its teeth upon occasion. An important part of the war dog’s training is in listen duties.
Attached to the liaison dog’s collar is a tiny cartouche, into which a dispatch rolled into a spill may be introduced. Carrying this, the liaison dog is liberated from a sentry post by one master, and bidden to travel to the front, belly to earth, to find its other master. Off the dog flies, like an arrow from the bow and, if it has had training, travels as warily as any old campaigner, though at top speed: taking advantage of every fold in the ground to cover from fire, and avoid making swift detours to avoid the proximity of any stranger it should encounter.
Half a mile across the rough, undulating ground, the dog races up to its other master. The dispatch is read, the precise time noted on it, the paper returned to its cartouche, and off goes the war dog on the return journey to the sentry post, streaking along in the hollow like a fox, and studiously avoiding any figure that appears between itself and its destination.
The dog which has been trained in Red Cross work will scour the country in quest of recumbent men, and will race back to headquarters with a message, or with a cap or some loose thing it has snatched up, ready to guide a stretcher party to the spot at which it found it.
These war dogs are cheery and enduring in their work, and their attachment to the officers and men who train them proves the kindness with which it is done.
Arizona Republican, Phoenix, AZ, May 30, 1917