The Dog Who Could Fly (9 page)

From Montpellier the party made for the port city of Marseilles. The scene all around them was chaos, with French servicemen discarding their uniforms and declaring that any further resistance against the Boche was futile. But the seven stoic Czechs ignored the febrile atmosphere that swirled around the city and made directly for the docks. There they were able to catch one of the last ships bound for the nearest free British territory—Gibraltar.

“Gib” lay nearly nine hundred miles along the Spanish coast. Spain was in theory a neutral party in the war, so at least the voyage
wouldn’t be menaced from the Spanish coastline. To the Czechs, the last leg of their epic journey to freedom—one that would enable them to continue to take the fight to the loathed enemy—seemed the least daunting. But for Ant, one of the greatest dangers of their perilous flight was still to come.

•  •  •

They reached Gibraltar on June 30, 1940, after a largely uneventful voyage. As luck would have it, a convoy was preparing to set sail for Britain. Gibraltar was the airmen’s first-ever taste of British territory, and they learned that they would be transferred to the British collier ship, the
Northmoor
. She lay at anchor one hundred yards offshore, and final preparations were being made for her departure for England.

A ferryboat was shuttling back and forth to the busy vessel, and as the seven men shuffled up the gangplank they felt overcome by the sheer thrill and exhilaration of having pulled off a seemingly impossible escape. But Robert’s joy was to be short-lived. As the servicemen operating the ferry checked over their papers, one spotted Ant waiting patiently at Robert’s heel.

He gave a curt shake of the head. “Sorry, no dogs allowed. Captain’s orders.”

Robert tried to reason with the man but he was adamant. “Sorry, my friend, but we’ve had to stop a full colonel for the same reason today. You haven’t got a hope.” Seeing Robert’s face fall, he tried to console him. “He’s a good-looking animal; plenty of people ashore will be glad to have him. Gibraltar is British territory, and the people here are dog lovers. Rest assured he won’t starve.”

Robert understood that the man had his orders, but no way on earth was he about to leave Ant behind. After all they had endured—and after the many ways in which Ant seemed to have safeguarded their journey so far—Robert was not about to be parted from his dog. He handed his gear to Joska and headed back down the gangplank to shore.

Robert and Ant sat side by side on the quayside, the airman resting on a heap of timber, Ant lying in his customary position at his master’s feet. Robert stared out at the
Northmoor. So near and yet so far.
He could see their six friends waving to him across the short stretch of water as they neared the vessel. Robert was not only the master of this adolescent pup: he felt as if he had become its father figure, and as if the fates of man and dog were inextricably intertwined.

He felt his dog’s eyes upon him. Ant was scanning his face with a searching look.
I thought we were on our way out of here, Dad. So, what’s happening?

Robert reached down and ruffled his dog’s ears. “I’m not sure, boy. Give me a few minutes to think up a plan. But one thing’s for sure: there’s not a hope in hell I’m leaving you behind.”

Ant’s tail made a few reassuring thumps as he wagged it back and forth, banging it against the woodpile. Then he got to his feet, galumphed over to the water, seemed to gaze from it toward the waiting boat for several seconds, before turning back to the woodpile. Robert watched, fascinated, as the dog chose a piece of wood, pulled it free from the pile, turned back to the harbor, and launched it into the water in the direction of the ship. The current carried the length of wood out toward the vessel, until finally it was lost from view.

Ant turned his head, fixed his master with an intense look, and barked, once, excitedly.
See, Dad, it’s not so far. If that dumb lump of wood can make it, so can I!

“By Christ, you’re right,” Robert muttered, shaking his head in amazement. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”

The one hundred yards would be an easy swim for Ant. Robert could board the ship, telling the ferry crew that he’d left his dog to be adopted by a local family. Once safely aboard, he could whistle for Ant, who’d be sure to swim out to the ship following his master’s call. There was just one problem: fierce arc lights lit up the entire
harbor. His dog was bound to be visible in their glare as he waited patiently by the dockside, then dived into the harbor.

For the first time in his life Robert found himself longing for an air raid—for then the arc lights would be extinguished, enabling him to smuggle Ant across the darkened water unseen. Robert reflected upon the incredible closeness that had formed between him and his dog, one that made him actively wish for enemy warplanes to attack. He chided himself for doing so. Good men might die under the German bombs. Their transport to Britain might even be sunk. But such was their bond that he would have welcomed a flight of Dorniers right now.

Robert squatted down and took Ant’s head in his hands, staring into the depths of his eyes in the hope of finding some added inspiration there. Ant it was who had first thought up the idea of swimming across the harbor and sneaking aboard the ship, so why not a plan to avoid the arc lights too? But the dog returned a gaze that was as empty and desperate as Robert’s. It was as if he was saying:
Search me, Dad. On that one I haven’t got a clue.

Robert let his eyes rove around the dockside. They came to rest on an old and blackened cinder bucket. Now here was a possibility. It was a good two feet high and had a coiled rope attached to it. A plan began to form in his mind, and the more he mulled it over the more plausible it seemed. By the time he got to his feet he was very much a man with a mission. He couldn’t be sure it would work. It would be the ultimate test of Ant’s obedience, loyalty, and training.

But right now it was the only hope he had of keeping his dog at his side.

Six

Sailing aboard the
Northmoor
, Robert and his stowaway dog were menaced by German U-boats and warplanes, not to mention discovery by the ship’s crew.

M
aking sure he couldn’t be seen from the ferryboat, Robert coaxed Ant into the bucket and carried him across to the quay’s edge.

“When I whistle, you come,” he whispered to his dog. “But only when I whistle, mind. Then it’s time to swim hell-for-leather across the water to that ship. Got it?”

Robert could have sworn he saw his dog nod agreement, and he felt certain Ant had understood. Using the rope, he lifted the bucket, then lowered it from the jetty until it was floating in the water. He could hear the faint slap of seawater against the iron sides as it bobbed about on the calm surface. Tying the rope to a bollard on the quayside, he whispered a soft but firm “stay” to the pair of gleaming eyes gazing up at him. With a whispered farewell, Robert made his way to the waiting ferryboat.

“Sorry I had to refuse your dog, mate,” the soldier remarked. “But you know how it is. Orders is orders. Hope you fixed him up all right?”

Robert made no reply, and thinking that he must have been silenced by the sadness of losing his pet, the soldier waved him aboard. As the ferry set out for the ship, Robert cast his mind across the water to his dog. He hoped to God that he wouldn’t start howling or crying, as he had done when Robert had once truly tried to abandon him, back at their first meeting in no-man’s-land.

Curled up in his floating bucket, Ant would find his world reduced to a small circle of dark sky high above him. Robert heard the sharp cry of a gull echo around the docks, and he prayed that Ant didn’t mistake it for the whistle that he was awaiting—the one that would signal him to start his swim to the ship. If Ant set off prematurely there would be no one there to greet him or help him aboard, and the puppy might well drown.

As soon as he had clambered aboard the
Northmoor
Robert hurried to the stern. There a ladder descended into the darkness, where a wooden platform set just above the sea enabled sailors to take a dip after a hot day’s work. Robert went down to join them. He waited until the coast was clear, then gave a soft, low whistle across the water—the signal that he hoped and prayed Ant was straining to hear.

Minutes passed and still Robert could detect not the slightest sign of a dog anywhere out in the dark stillness. He was about to give a
louder whistle, when the faint but unmistakable sound of a puppy’s frantic dog-paddling reached him on the warm night air. First sight of his beloved Ant was a streamlined muzzle sucking in greedy lungfuls of air as it plowed a V-shaped furrow toward the ship’s stern.

Robert let out a second soft whistle, to guide the swimmer directly toward him. Seconds later he was able to reach down, grab the dog’s collar, and help the dripping animal from the water, whereupon Ant shook himself from head to tail, a shower of water like a breaking wave drenching Robert’s uniform. He didn’t mind. He was overjoyed to be reunited with his beloved dog of war.

Tucking Ant beneath one arm, Robert carried the dripping hound up the ladder. The deck was packed with refugees from just about every country in Europe, but man and dog soon found their Czech comrades. They were celebrating an unexpected reunion with a dozen fellow members of the Czechoslovakian Air Force. The entire party greeted Robert and his stowaway dog warmly.

“Will you look at that!” Karel exclaimed. “What did you do, bribe the ferryman?”

Robert laughed. “Not a bit of it. You’ll get the full story later. For now the question is, where can we hide him?”

It was Karel’s turn to smile. “We’ve thought of that. We’ve got the perfect place.”

Wrapping Ant in a greatcoat to conceal him, Karel led Robert forward to the bow and pointed into the dark and gaping cavern of the ship’s hold. “Welcome to Ant’s new home,” he announced. “With hundreds of people and all their luggage aboard, we won’t be carrying much cargo, so there’s little fear of him being discovered.”

While the others milled around the entrance providing cover, Karel slid Ant out of the bulky greatcoat and handed the sodden dog to Robert, who was waiting at the top of the iron ladder. With the trusting animal slung over one shoulder, Robert disappeared from view. In the darkest corner of the smelly hold the friends had already
made Ant a bed. Certain that Robert wouldn’t leave him alone down there, they had fixed one for him as well. Ant took one look at the two beds and promptly curled up soggily on the larger of the two, which was Robert’s!

The half-grown puppy glanced up from the nest of old sacking and gave a wide yawn. All of that swimming seemed to have tired him out, and he was soon fast asleep.

As the convoy readied itself to sail, Robert kept Ant constant company in the hold. Each of the Czech airmen set aside a portion of his food so it could be lowered to them by bucket, and Ant was never hungry. But coal dust from earlier cargoes lay everywhere, and even the air was thick with it. Man and dog were used to rough quarters, yet Robert received frequent ribbings from his friends whenever he went on deck. The thick coal dust had formed dark rings around his eyes, making him look as if he’d been in an endless round of brawls.

On the third morning Robert was awakened by the sound of the engines throbbing powerfully through the ship’s hull. He hurried up the ladder to find the crew making final preparations for departure. The
Northmoor
moved into its allotted position in the convoy and at 10 a.m. sharp, twenty-eight merchant ships and four destroyers steamed out of Gibraltar harbor. On board were hundreds of ship’s crew, thousands of refugees escaping the Nazis, plus one stowaway—the dog that was hidden in the
Northmoor
’s hold.

The steady throbbing of the
Northmoor
’s engines and the thump of the propellers reverberated through the echoing hull. For a man and dog hidden belowdecks it was like being incarcerated inside a giant drum. The noise took some getting used to during their first hour at sea, so much so that when Robert finally pulled his fingers out of his ears he expected to find blood.

The coal dust was getting deep into his lungs and it made him retch. He knew it would be weeks before he shook off the hacking cough that he was developing. Yet while Ant’s glossy brown coat had
become matted and rough with dirt, he seemed happy enough. He amused himself by rummaging through heaps of debris in the hold and retrieving pieces of wood that he could proudly present to his master.

Ant’s golden eyes gazed up at Robert playfully as he darted stiff-legged from side to side urging the game to commence.
Throw it, then! Come on! Cheer up! This is fun!

•  •  •

On the second day out from Gibraltar the ship’s alarm pierced the steady beat of the engines. Warning Ant to stay put and keep quiet, Robert clambered onto the deck. The ship’s crew had donned life jackets and were already at their battle stations, scanning the choppy gray waters for the enemy. Uncle Vlasta warned Robert that they were facing a suspected U-boat attack. He could see the destroyers steaming around the fringes of the convoy like sheepdogs shepherding their flock, trying to safeguard the ships from an unseen threat.