As they lived on the airbase itself the soldiers became Pal’s neighbours and they happily shared their food – and even their beer – with him. They taught him tricks like how to stand on his back legs and put his paws on their shoulders. They encouraged him to take showers; which, being a Newfoundland dog, he loved. However no one ever tried to wake Pal when he decided to take a nap in one of the bunks. He hated being woken up and it was the only time he displayed irritation or anything like a bad temper. The men learned very quickly to ‘leave this sleeping dog to lie’ as long as he liked.
Pal was a happy dog. He liked people and people liked him. But his size sometimes made him clumsy and one day while he was out with the children on the sled, Pal jumped up to greet Eileen Chafe’s sister Joan and accidently scratched her face deeply. Pal knew immediately that he had done something wrong and he licked her hand to tell her he was sorry. Although the little girl wasn’t seriously hurt, Rod Hayden took it as a sign that Pal had outgrown his time as a children’s playmate and that, combined with his often dangerous antics at the airfield, made him decide to give Pal away at the first opportunity.
So it was that Pal moved from being a family pet to becoming a military mascot. He would even have his own bunk in the barracks with the Royal Rifles. Even Jack Hayden understood that the mascot idea was a perfect solution and, the next day, Pal moved in with his new friends. He settled into his new life very quickly but he still enjoyed daily visits from the local children, and especially Jack, who missed his dog very much.
Outside of the world of Gander Airfield the war was well advanced and the soldiers sensed they might be posted overseas any day. But there was something they had to do before they left. Their mascot dog was so much a part of the place where they were stationed that the men decided to give Pal a new name that would always be a reminder of home. They decided to call their soldier dog – Gander.
Just days later the men received the news they had been expecting. They were to leave immediately: Destination – unknown.
By October 1941 the Second World War was moving into its third year and Adolf Hitler’s Germany was achieving far-flung military success and extending its power. The Führer’s indomitable general, Erwin Rommel, had the desert campaign in North Africa well under the German Army’s control. At sea, German U-boats continued to threaten British merchant shipping bringing vital supplies across the Atlantic and on land the German Army, motivated and encouraged by repeated military success, was marching across Europe, effortlessly overcoming all opposition. In that month almost all of Western Europe and much of Soviet Russia was under the military heel of Germany and its Nazi leaders.
Germany’s ever-tightening grip on Europe cast an ominous shadow over a free Britain. Only his obsession with completing the invasion of Russia could divert Hitler’s attention away from the final unconquered parts of the Continent as he prepared to march his army to the very gates of Moscow. He appeared to be ruling supreme, his armies were unstoppable and unconquerable, and the rest of the world seemed to have been reduced to a crowd of powerless and quivering spectators.
Japan, however, had its own ambitions. As Hitler’s divisions powered their way across Europe, Emperor Hirohito was not so secretly strengthening Japanese forces on land, at sea and in the air. The Japanese High Command had designs on British and Dutch territorial and mineral possessions in South East Asia, and bloody battle was clearly imminent. China was already into its fourth year of occupation and continuing battle with the Emperor’s invasion forces. If the British were not quick enough to substantially and meaningfully reinforce their Hong Kong territory with defensive forces, Japan would add Hong Kong to its list of conquests too.
Hong Kong was a thriving British colony, representing not only an economic jewel in the crown of British trading interests but also the pinnacle of British military power in the Far East. The Japanese War Cabinet had long been aware of Hong Kong’s strategic importance to their war of conquest. The Commonwealth troops already based there represented little more than a token security presence. These soldiers might have been enough to reassure the diplomatic staff and the loyal residents living and working in Hong Kong but it was nowhere near what was required to hold off the might of a battle-hardened and proven invasion force. Despite dire warnings from some of his military and political advisers, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill focused on the battles and reverses in the Mediterranean theatre and in the air and sea at home. He had been reluctant, until that point, to send a significant force to Hong Kong. But things were changing rapidly.
Within days of receiving the order to leave their barracks near Gander Airfield, the Royal Rifles were packed and ready to move out. They had been issued with their tropical kit but had not been given a briefing on what lay ahead. There was even speculation that they might be going to North Africa. For now there was one certainty: they were taking Gander with them. It was a tall order to hide a Newfoundland dog that was almost as tall as a Shetland pony and weighed as much as a fully grown man. ‘I think you’ve gone crazy,’ said one of the civilians on the camp. ‘How on earth are you going to hide that dog? You know what will happen if he’s caught, don’t you? They’ll throw him overboard if you’re at sea and if you’re on the train he’ll be put out at the next station. Then what’ll happen to him? I think you’re crazy and I think the dog needs to stay here in Gander.’
It was a brave speech but the well-meaning man was wasting his breath. He was challenging the Royal Rifles of Canada and he should have known better. Besides, who relished the idea of telling Fred Kelly, Gander’s partner, that the dog wasn’t going with them? That night the men called a meeting in the barracks. It was agreed that Fred would kick off with a request for a show of hands. They needed to know that they would have the support and co-operation of all the men if Gander was to leave with them. It took under five minutes for Fred to finish his speech and gain a unanimous vote of support. The dog was going with them. From that meeting a subcommittee of six people was formed. These were the people who would be Gander’s closest companions and the ones directly responsible for his health and welfare. If there were any major decisions to be made, these men would make them. If there was any blame to take, these men would take it. The Royal Rifles of Canada were well aware that pets and mascots were not allowed to be taken on military duty into operational areas. This was an accepted fact in the military. If they were caught there would be severe consequences. This too was accepted.
The priority was to prepare Gander for the journey. If the posting was, as they guessed, to the Far East, it would mean hiding their huge mascot dog during a train journey that would take them several thousand miles across Canada, and on a troopship that would spend many weeks at sea. There was also the problem of rations on the journey. There was only one thing to do that would protect the dog in any semi-official way: using official and unofficial influences in the military system, Gander would have to be listed as a soldier. One of the men. A sergeant. Gander of the Royal Rifles. Not only would he be on the ration strength he would also have a rank that would appear on all the transport-movement papers.
‘Sergeant’ Gander was issued with his own kitbag too. It contained all he needed for a comfortable journey and protection in battle: a special dog brush, a towel, soap, water and food bowls, a towel and everything a dog might need were gathered together. Gander was assigned a seat on the train and all the men had to do was make sure their dog was neither seen nor heard by the officers. If he was discovered it was almost inevitable that the men would be ordered to leave him behind or if they were at sea he could be thrown overboard. No one was going to let their friend down.
In charge of the rather hairy recruit was Rifleman Fred Kelly. Kelly had been a dog lover all his life and from the moment Fred set his eyes on Gander it was clear to everyone that it was a perfect partnership. A soldier at the age of just 19 Fred knew more about dogs than he did about fighting but he was proud of his country and ready to do what was expected of him. The men had very little training so for Fred and his fellow Royal Rifles there was a huge fear of the unknown. For all the men, Gander became a welcome distraction from the uncertainty that plagued them day and night. At least Fred had Gander to fill his thoughts and the dog’s care to structure parts of his day. Gander needed his food and needed to be groomed, otherwise his huge fur coat would get matted and the