Back in the day (and I do mean way back), Aldershot was a schizophrenic town. By day, a quiet, disciplined, dutiful, garrison-town; by night, particularly Fridays and Saturdays, think: Wild West minus the six-shooters and Wyatt Earp! Back then it was a 'Para town' and pity any poor soul posted there from another regiment. Anyway, the Airborne denizens of this unfortunate borough were for the most part, from 19.00 hours through to, oh, I dunno, say, 04.00 hours, totally legless! However, I have been surprised by an article in Spiegel describing not legless Paras - but four-legged Paras!
Brian was a tough paratrooper. He trained hard for his deployment with the British Army during . During his training, he learned how to identify minefields. Then, on the battlefield, he protected his comrades-in-arms -- though not all of them made it back. On D-Day, he parachuted under heavy anti-aircraft fire onto the Continent. He was there when the Allies liberated Normandy. A few months before the war's end, he parachuted into western Germany, from where he marched to the Baltic Sea.
Less than two years after the war, Brian was given an award to recognize his "conspicuous gallantry." But the bronze medal was not the only thing that distinguished this special soldier from the majority of his comrades: Brian, the tough paratrooper, was a dog, a young Alsatian-Collie mix.
Here is a model of Brian (service name: Bing) at the Airborne Forces Museum at Duxford:
Brian (Bing) served with the 13th (Lancashire) Parachute Battalion. The article describes the training:
The dogs' slim bodies proved to be advantageous because, during their test jumps, they could use the parachutes that had actually been designed to carry bicycles. In order to make it easier to get the dogs to jump out of the aircraft, they weren't given anything to drink or eat beforehand. On April 2, 1944, Bailey wrote in his notebook about the first jump with the female Alsatian Ranee. He notes that he carried with him a 2-pound piece of meat, and that the dog sat at his heels eagerly watching as the men at the front of the line jumped out of the plane.
Then it was their time to jump, which Bailey describes in this way:
"After my chute developed, I turned to face the line of flight; the dog was 30 yards away and slightly above. The chute had opened and was oscillating slightly. (Ranee) looked somewhat bewildered but showed no sign of fear. I called out and she immediately turned in my direction and wagged her tail vigorously. The dog touched down 80 feet before I landed. She was completely relaxed, making no attempt to anticipate or resist the landing, rolled over once, scrambled to her feet and stood looking round. I landed 40 feet from her and immediately ran to her, released her and gave her the feed."
Perhaps if I had 'wagged my tail' as I came down to earth in my usual fashion, like the proverbial 'sack of you-know-what' it might have stopped those instructors bellowing all those deeply personal and hurtful remarks at me! Anyway, read the article for an isiosyncratic view of war - and do check the photos because para-dogs were universal.
