This is the second entry of a four-part series, Dog Days of August, highlighting dog-related items from the American Folklife Center’s archival collections. The first entry can be found here.
Last week, we looked at AFC collection materials related to “Dogs at Work.” While the dogs featured there represented a number of different “jobs” that a dog might be called on to do, there was one significant occupation that was not included: service in the military.
One of the gems I stumbled across in my search for information on dogs who have served in wartime roles came in the form of an audio interview archived with the Veterans History Project (VHP).
On July 19, 2022, Stanford Historical Society oral historian Ingrid Lief interviewed Donald Watson, himself a U.S. Navy veteran, about his dog Lucky’s time in the service. Unfortunately, the collection does not include a photograph of Lucky. Presumably, it was lost at the same time as a letter that is mentioned in the interview. Lucky’s story, however, speaks to the courage, intelligence and dedication of the many other war dogs whose photographs do appear in other VHP collections. I have opted to showcase these other war dog photographs alongside excerpts of Lucky’s story. [EDIT: If you are interested in reading more about the training that Lucky and other war dogs received when entering military service, check out this blog post by Matt McCrady, VHP Digital Conversion Specialist]
Lucky, a German Shepherd, was given to the Watson family by a close friend. For the first year and a half of his life, Lucky lived the life of an ordinary family dog, exploring the woods and creeks of Tamaqua, Pennsylvania. In 1945, however, Donald Watson was on the verge of entering the U.S. Navy and his wife and infant son were due to move in with her family in Washington, D.C. There was no space for the dog in the city, and the Watsons had a tough decision ahead of them. “There was no way in which I could take him with me into the service,” Donald said, “so we had to do something about taking care of the dog while our family was broken up. And the Marines were desperate for dogs. They were asking and pleading with people to enlist their dogs. And as soon as I called the Marine Corps, they came right back to me and said, ‘Yes, we want your dog’.”
Shortly after, Lucky was sent via train to Camp Lejeune, for basic training. Watson explained: “He was in a crate marked ‘USMC Devil Dog.’ All of the dogs at that time were known as Devil Dogs. And that was because, originally, many of the Marines were known as Devil Dogs, themselves. Later on during the war, the official designation was changed to War Dog. And I think that’s because the Army also had dogs in the service.”
When asked if the family was kept informed about Lucky’s life in the Marine Corps, Donald replied:
“Oh, yes. The Marines were wonderful. At the time he completed his basic training, they wrote and told us that he had passed his basic training, and had been promoted to Private First Class, and was being sent out to the Pacific Theater as a replacement for a casualty. Well, we were pleased that he had passed his rigorous training, but we didn’t exactly like the idea of replacing a casualty. So we know that his first action in the Pacific was really a final training. It was searching out hidden Japanese soldier who had taken refuge in caves on Guam. And because the dogs were so sensitive to the presence of people, the dogs were used to find those hidden soldiers who were armed and dangerous.”
The family was told they could write to Lucky, via his handler. Donald was hesitant to keep up a lengthy correspondence, but they did receive a few letters from Lucky’s handler, which provided insight into the important work that their dog was doing overseas:
“One of the important things was that Lucky was never surprised by enemy people. He always sensed their presence. One of the favorite tactics of the Japanese was a night banzai attack to try to overrun a position of the Marines — throw them into confusion and do a lot of damage to them. When the handler went to sleep, he slept with the palm of his hand under the throat of Lucky. Lucky had been taught never to bark or growl. But if he sensed anything out of the ordinary at night, his throat would vibrate in a silent growl, which would awaken the handler. And the handler, then, roused the other Marines. And they were never, ever surprised by a banzai attack by the Japanese. And the presence of the dog was such an important matter to the other Marines that the handler threw away his own shovel. All the Marines dug holes when they always took cover. But the handler never dug a hole, and neither did Lucky. The other Marines dug two extra holes. They wanted Lucky right with them.”
In addition to searching caves on Guam, Lucky was part of the amphibious invasions of other islands throughout the Pacific Theater. “From the time he went to the Pacific,” Watson shared, “he was there through all of the island-to-island invasions. And when Japan finally surrendered, no one knew if that was for real or not, because the Japanese had been so tricky in the beginning of the war. So when the Marines made their first landing on the mainland – on the main islands of Japan, they were all ready for battle. It was an amphibious landing, backed up by the Navy and all their guns. The only difference was that there was no artillery preparation. And the battle-hardened Marines landed ready for anything then.” Lucky was right alongside his handler when they landed in Japan.
In November 1945, two months after Japan’s formal surrender, Lucky boarded the SS Merrick – alongside 231 other war dogs serving in the Pacific. “We didn’t get him back right away,” Watson explained. “Lucky was used in Japan as part of the occupation forces. And they needed him and the handler to patrol and help in the transition from a war-time condition to a civilian government. And he came back with the very last of the dogs that came back to the country.”
Around this time, the Watson family received another letter from Lucky’s handler, asking if the dog could stay with him:
Ingrid: Did you ever hear what happened to Lucky’s handler?
Donald: We know that he came home safely. He – he – in his letter, he pleaded with us, because he wanted the dog. He was number two in line after the original owner. And he wrote us the most beautiful letter, telling us about his experiences with the dog. And he called him “a sweet dog you could do anything with.” And then I had to respond to that. That was, perhaps, the toughest letter I’ve ever written.
Ingrid: Really.
Donald: And I put it on the basis that the war was over, and he was returning home to his family. And so Lucky was coming back to his family, too.
First, however, Lucky had to travel back to Camp Lejeune for “detraining,” to acclimate to being back in civilian surroundings.
Ingrid: When you say “detrained,” what exactly would that mean?
Donald: [laughing] The Marines were very good about that, and Mr. Putney was in charge of the detraining. As a matter of fact, our dog was detrained while Mr. Putney was in charge of Camp Lejeune. And I have a letter from him in which he says that he didn’t remember our dog, specifically, as an individual, but there was no question that our dog was detrained while he was in command of that group. The dog had to be re-oriented to civilian life. And they did that by letting the dog socialize, not only with other animals, but with, also, a lot of people. He had been held in control by one handler throughout his military service. And it was absolutely essential to have him become aware of other people and relate in a normal manner with other people. And this they did in a series of ways; one of which was they romped with the dog. And, indeed, when we finally did get the dog back, the instructions we had were from the Marines that every day we had to romp for 30 minutes with the dog. Believe me, that exercise would wear out anybody.
Along with daily “romping,” the family was given other detailed instructions about how to reintegrate their dog into civilian life. For instance, in the service Lucky had been fed three pounds of food per day, including two pounds of meat. The Watsons were instructed to feed him the same way he had been fed in the Marine Corps. This, unfortunately, did not take into account that the family was still on wartime rations, and they only got two pounds of meat a week for the whole family. “So it was necessary to make a civilian out of him, as far as diet was concerned,” Donald laughed.
The family was given another important instruction:
“We were told by the Marines two commands never to use. And, of course, we didn’t use them. One was obviously the command to attack. And the other one I interpret as the command to guard a prisoner. And, I think, there could be nothing more effective than a dog that guarded a prisoner. In any case, we were very, very careful never to use either of those two commands. But he was extremely well disciplined.”
Once he was detrained, Lucky was put aboard another train – this time to Richmond, Virginia. Donald met Lucky at the train station:
Ingrid Lief: Would you tell us what happened when Lucky came back to you.
Donald R. Walton: That was a thrill. We knew what train to meet. We had moved. We were in a new house in a new city, an area that the dog knew nothing about and had never been. And it was after midnight when the train came into the station in Richmond, Virginia. And I was there. And when the crate was unloaded onto the platform, I spoke his name. And I know he recognized my voice. He gave a very low — almost a quiet whimper, just like a little whine. Mind you, this dog had been taught never to make a sound — not to bark, not to growl, no sound of any kind. But as soon as he heard my voice, he couldn’t resist that little whimper. And I opened the crate. He ran off to the bushes to take care of the necessary. And then he came roaring back, put both hands on my shoulders and wagging his tail violently. He recognized me.
After the train station reunion, Donald and his dog drove to the family’s new house, and Lucky was reintroduced to the rest of the family, as well as his new home. “It was a house he had never seen,” Donald said, “and the only contents that he knew were the furniture and the people – my wife, my son, and myself. And I let him in the front door and turned the lights on.” Lucky proceeded to walk through the house, cautiously, “looking to see if there were any threats.” When he completed his search, Lucky returned to the family and laid down at Donald’s feet – a task that Donald was certain he had been trained to do in the Marine Corps.
It wasn’t the only time that Donald witnessed behavior that seemed to carry echoes of Lucky’s time in war:
“There are some things that he did after he came home that I think were directly related to his service in the Marine Corps. The Marines, especially those who went through the amphibious landings and terrible battles, certainly experienced the hazards of gunfire and water. And when Lucky came home, he was quite protective of our children. As small boys do, they loved to play with cap pistols. And when the boys were out in the yard playing with cap pistols, Lucky would come to me and put his head in my lap, pleading with me to tell them not to shoot at each other.
And when we went on vacation, we went down to Virginia Beach — lovely, gently sloping beach with all white sand and very little in the way of wave action on Chesapeake Bay. And the boys and I, when they were very small, used to go in the water and play in the shallows. Lucky didn’t like the idea of these boys being in the water. And he would go off to the side and swim out and then swim over and then swim in from the deeper water toward to the boys and try to push them in towards shore. Now he didn’t get any training from me to do that. He just knew that water was dangerous, and he didn’t want these boys exposed to deep water.”
The primary change that Donald noticed in Lucky was in his presence. He had always been a well-behaved, even-tempered, and intelligent dog and, upon his return, Lucky seemed to have earned a sense of gravitas and authority as well. All the neighborhood dogs – including an ill-tempered mutt who tended to roam the community looking for food – seemed to respond to Lucky’s “general air of assurance,” as Donald called it. “Not that he was rough or — or a bully or in any way used his skills against people or dogs,” he clarified. “It was just that he seemed to know what he was about. And, no matter what, he never got lost. He was given free rein. We never put him on leash. We never locked a door or a window. We knew as long as he was there, everything was perfectly secure.”
In fact, the Watsons respected Lucky’s work ethic and air of assurance so much that they knew they could trust him to look after their two young children. “He felt it was his job to look after our son, and when the second baby came along, he made it his personal job to keep close tabs on that baby,” Donald told Ingrid. “That dog was with that boy, no matter where he went, and was always willing to keep an eye on him.” When asked whether he thought this was because of Lucky’s training or his general love of children, Donald replied “It has to be a combination. He had been disciplined, and he knew he had some duties to perform when he was in the Marines. And I think he took it on himself that there were certain duties that he had to perform when he was a civilian, again. Not that we forced him to do any of these things. He just had a basic intelligence that he had a responsibility. This was his family.”
“I have to think that there was a mutual dependence between him and his handler and the other Marines,” Donald continued. “And I think that he learned, really, to look after his handler while he was in the Marines. And it may be that that carried over into his civilian life.” Donald paused before continuing. “He certainly had a very close relationship with his handler. And whenever he saw anyone in uniform, he wanted to go up and see who it was. He was hoping that someday he would meet his handler again.” Watson doesn’t say in his interview, but I imagine Lucky and his handler never did reunite.
Lucky lived to be 14 years old – “quite old for a dog of that breed and especially for one who had such a rugged life,” Donald explained. To the end of his life, Lucky remained “a delight” to his family and all who knew him. When asked about the dog’s name, Donald Watson had this to say:
“The dog was lucky to join our family, and we were lucky to have him. And so we named him Lucky.”
May we all be so lucky to meet a dog like Lucky in our lifetime.
Further Reading
View Lucky’s war dog digital collection at the Veterans History Project
Read more about Lucky and other war dogs in this guest post, “…Faithful and True Even to Death,” by Matt McCrady, Digital Conversion Specialist with the Veterans History Project.
Visit the Library of Congress in person and read Always Faithful: a memoir of the Marine dogs of WWII, a memoir written by William W. Putney, whose letter to Donald Watson can be found in Lucky’s collection (NOTE: items stored offsite – request materials in advance of visit)
Learn more about the history of dogs in U.S. military service:
- Read about Canine Mascots of the Civil War, courtesy of a bulletin created by the National Park Service
- Learn about the history of dogs in U.S. military service from the U.S. War Dog Association
- Visit the U.S. Department of Defense’s digital presentation on war dogs, “Four-Legged Fighters”
- Read a digital copy of War Dogs of the World War, by John I. Anderson, hosted on the Library of Congress website
Read resolutions that have been proposed in the Senate and the House of Representatives regarding war dogs:
- H.R.5145 – to authorize the National War Dogs Monument, Inc to establish a national monument in honor of military working dog teams
- H.Res.1054 – Supporting the creation of an annual process to nominate animals for the Medal of Bravery and the Distinguished Service Medal
- S.Res.160 – A resolution honoring the service to United States Armed Forces provided by military working dogs and contract working dogs, also known as “war dogs.”
Comments (2)
My father-in-law, Frank Burns, brought the first shipment of MP K-9 dogs to Vietnam in 1965 during his first Army tour there. He’d be so pleased to see this!
Thank you for this cool story, just right to counteract the humid heat we associate with the Dog Days of August!