eBook
Related collections and offers
Overview
Dogs have become more than mere pets, in the eyes of many these companions are friends and family. But when it comes to dogs that serve in the military, they become equal members of the team. Each day, these canines’ actions and reactions to often difficult situations impact the personal safety and care of men and women as they serve their communities and country.
In The Line of Fire: More Stories of Man’s Best Hero shares moving and exciting stories of a dozen amazing canines whose lives have been constantly on the line. Dogs that set forth on life-saving missions, and even became goodwill ambassadors, empowering those with whom they work.
Their incredible missions showcase the most positive aspects of the units with whom they’ve worked, while serving as narratives that teach mankind about courage, faith, and loyalty. After hearing these often edge-of-the-seat tales you might be encouraged to emulate the very animals that serve us.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781501841873 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Abingdon Press |
| Publication date: | 05/15/2018 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 581 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Unexpected Heroism
Heroism is endurance for one moment more.
— George F. Kennan
While dogs in our modern world fill many roles, a majority are still just pets and therefore their duties and responsibilities pale in comparison to what was expected by dog owners 170 years ago. In the middle of the nineteenth century, for those living outside cities, canines were indispensable. In reality, the dog was perhaps the most important family tool. It was not as much a pet as it was a sentry, hunter, herder, and defender. During an era when almost every rural family saw a dog as essential, it is interesting that canines served no official purpose in the military. It would take more than seven decades before dog training became a part of the military. Yet that didn't keep a feisty terrier out of one of the bloodiest battles in the American Civil War or prevent her from being recognized and saluted by the nation's most revered leader. To fully grasp the unlikely dynamics that brought this story to life, one first has to understand history as it unfolded.
By 1860, in the then not-so-United States, trouble had been brewing for more than a decade. But the event that set the stage for the breaking of a union was the election of Abraham Lincoln as president. In November the tall man from Illinois won the popular and electoral vote over a trio of competitors: John C. Breckinridge, John Bell, and Stephen Douglas. With Lincoln readying to take over the nation's highest office, those pushing for an end to slavery finally felt as if they had a strong and willing leader in power. Yet it was the fear that Lincoln would act quickly to emancipate the slaves that also created an environment where many in the South vowed to walk away from a nation that refused to recognize individual states' rights to determine whether one man could legally own another. While the newly elected president pushed for an understanding between the two factions, many in the media and in government deemed the nation already irrevocably broken. So in early 1861, even though few could fathom the deadly consequences that soon would drench American soil in blood, a clock was ticking, driven by moral choices that seemed to be anchored in stone. Soon that clock would hit the zero hour and when it did the country would blow up.
On February 8, 1861, a full month before Lincoln was sworn in, the slaveholding states officially left the union and announced the formation of the Confederate States of America. Not unexpectedly the government of the United States did not recognize this new governing body. Yet war didn't break out immediately. Over the next few months, as the nation teetered on the brink of armed conflict, somehow, amid the fiery rhetoric, cooler heads prevailed. Thus many in the new president's administration actually believed the seceding states could be wooed back into the union without a single shot being fired. But those hopes were finally and forever dashed on April 12, 1861, when Confederate forces attacked Fort Sumter in South Carolina. For the next four years it would be brother against brother and father against son as more men died in combat than during any other American conflict.
A few weeks after the shots were fired at Fort Sumter, an unlikely hero was born. No one could have predicted that, more than a century and a half later, a brindle bull terrier would rank as one of the most remembered and cherished symbols of heroism and loyalty during the darkest period in American history. How this untrained canine came to symbolize the sacrifice and horror of war is one of the most unusual and dramatic stories of the Civil War. Yet even more amazing is the way this dog became a role model and inspiration for one of the country's most honored and revered regiments.
With the nation at war, the call went out for volunteers to engage the southern rebels. In communities across the Ohio Valley and up the Eastern Seaboard, tens of thousands signed up to wear union blue. With city bands playing patriotic songs, countless children waving flags, and city leaders making political speeches harkening back to the founding fathers' faith in a complete union of states and solidarity of the American people, the lure to join the military quickly built into fever pitch. These new soldiers had never experienced war. Most had not even been born when the War of 1812 ended. What they knew of battle was a product of books, plays, and family stories dipped in large doses of patriotism and glory and void of death and suffering. Thus, on the surface, war sounded like the greatest adventure known to man. In a very real sense, officers and newly enlisted men alike both saw the war as little more than a parade action.
In this climate, Colonel Thomas Gallagher, Lieutenant Colonel James Porter, and Major Samuel Jackson were directed to create the 11th Pennsylvania Regiment and within days more than a thousand men from throughout the commonwealth jumped at the chance to teach the Rebs a lesson. These passionate volunteers signed to serve just three months. Why? Because that was how long most predicted it would take until the South was tamed and peace was restored to the nation. With an easy victory seemingly ensured, on April 26, 1861, when the men of the 11th left West Chester and headed for Camp Curtin, Harrisburg, for training and organization, the mood was upbeat. Mothers weren't worried about losing sons and few of the men were concerned about dying in battle. In order to fully frame this upbeat and casual mood, a local citizen marched forward soon after the unit's creation with a five-week-old pit bull terrier puppy and presented it to Captain William Terry. This small helpless terrier seemed more a burden than a gift, but the captain readily accepted it figuring the dog would offer his men a diversion during training. The new recruits barked out possible names for their tiny mascot. Finally, after much discussion, the terrier was christened in honor of a beautiful local woman and the unit's colonel, Phaon Jarrett. Thus the tiger-striped pup, barely large enough to fit into a man's hand, became Sallie Ann Jarrett. At that moment of celebration no one could have predicted the horrific price of the war or that the dog's name would still be remembered and honored almost two centuries later.
By modern military standards, the training experienced by the men of the 11th might seem lax. On some days there was as much kidding around as there was teaching and drilling. Thus, there was plenty of time to spoil the growing pup. Using treats and kindness, many of the young soldiers attempted to win the favor of Miss Sallie. In fact, there seemed to be a competition to gain the undying loyalty of the unit's mascot. In those moments war seemed a million miles away and the men were more boys at summer camp than soldiers preparing to engage in a life-and-death struggle. Even when the regiment was assigned to the Army of the Shenandoah and shipped to Maryland, few sensed the horror that lay just over the horizon.
The 11th initially drew guard duty at Annapolis. A few weeks later they were moved to protect railroad lines in Manassas Junction. Both of these assignments gave the soldiers plenty of time to play with Sallie, and the growing pup was quickly trained to march in step when the men were on parade. With her ears pricked and eyes alert, she also was the first one up and in line for inspection when the bugler sounded reveille. Thanks in part to the mascot's antics and their relatively placid duty assignment, most of the men of the 11th still felt at ease. Yet, when the regiment was informed their enlistments had been extended from three months to three years, some began to fully grasp this was not a walk in the park; there was a growing chance they might actually face enemy fire.
As the sounds of war drew closer, as the men of the 11th observed the bodies of others coming back from battle, Sallie began to take on a role much greater than that of mascot and playmate. On long nights when gunfire and cannon blasts could be heard in the distance, the growing puppy became a living security blanket. As they slept on the ground, as tears of uncertainty filled their eyes, soldiers took turns holding this warm, breathing reminder of home and family. When they saw the terrier they were reminded of all they were missing. Thus, Sallie came to represent not only their own dogs waiting in Pennsylvania but also their families. In many of the letters the men of the 11th wrote, it was the terrier's exploits that drove the narratives. In the midst of war Sallie was delivering the love and devotion that mothers and wives could no longer give and the companionship and security once reserved for fathers.
By July, the letters home went beyond just highlighting Sallie's tricks; they began to describe her personality. Those communications spelled out that the dog was affectionate and laid back. She also had no favorites, treating each member of the regiment with the same unbridled enthusiasm and now growled whenever anyone said "Rebel." She had also developed a nightly routine. She would visit each tent before heading to the officer's headquarters to bed down for the night.
One of the dog's most amazing qualities was witnessed during mess. She would not beg for food nor would she steal it, but she also made sure only those from the 11th got into the chow line. She would chase away any visitors who dared ask for grub. When the cooks or servers walked away from the mess tent, she allowed no one to get near the food stores. Somehow with no training she had become a sentry.
The fact that Sallie would not steal anything, even meat when she was hungry, became a teaching tool for officers. The dog was constantly singled out as an example of the honesty needed in order for the regiment to become a cohesive unit where each man could trust the other in and out of combat. Perhaps in part because of Sallie's example, the 11th became known for its character. Men could leave valuables in their tents and they would still be there when they returned. No one even cheated in poker. Officers from other units actually visited the regiment to uncover what kind of discipline was being employed to create this type of environment. They were mystified when the 11th's commander simply pointed to the bull terrier.
As the country prepared for its eighty-fifth birthday, the 11th was finally ordered to pack up and march to a combat zone. On July 2, 1861, after crossing the Potomac, the Army of the Potomac began to close in on General Thomas Jackson's Confederate Volunteers outside of Martinsburg, Virginia. As the lines were drawn and men checked and rechecked their weapons, the rural Virginia woods were calm. Birds sang, squirrels played in the trees, and a light breeze eased some of the summer heat, but for the first time Sallie was anything but subdued. She sensed something was about to happen and was nervous, wary, and anxious. While time slowed to a crawl and soldiers said silent prayers, Sallie raced from man to man, offering each a gentle nudge before moving to the next. When the order to advance was finally given, the terrier joined the flag corps and resolutely marched toward the Confederate forces. A few minutes later the placid calm was suddenly broken. As cannons fired and men yelled, peace gave way to terror. With no warning the troops were knocked to the ground by balls of lead and battle cries were all but drowned out by screams. Smoke soon brought haze as thick as a spring fog and in the man-made cloud the Grim Reaper was diligently seeking new victims.
As the battle continued and as the dog and the men tasted real war for the first time, Sallie stayed at her post beside the Stars and Stripes, watching anxiously as the soldiers she'd come to know and love were locked in a combat she couldn't have understood. The supposedly colorblind dog did somehow grasp something that would become even more evident throughout the remainder of her time with the 11th: those in gray were the enemy and whenever one of the Confederate soldiers drew close, the normally quiet terrier barked and growled. Sallie didn't stop until the invader was either pushed back or taken down.
After a few hours, the 11th's first battle was over as Jackson's forces were driven into a retreat. The now blood-drenched soil around Hoke's Run was claimed by the Union. On that summer afternoon ten of the men from Pennsylvania were wounded. As the doctors treated the injuries, Sallie went from soldier to soldier providing comfort and assurance. There was also one from the unit who died that day and the terrier spent extra time at his side. She urged him to get up and she likely couldn't fathom why he no longer responded to her voice. Yet as they took the dead man away for burial, the dog, along with those around her, seemed, for the first time, to understand the full price of war.
As many of the unseasoned men of the 11th would later reveal in letters home, it was Sallie's sense of duty and the fact that the eardrum-bursting noise of the battle had not driven her from her post that gave them the courage to keep fighting. Never once did the puppy flinch or take a step backward. Even with bullets sailing all around her, she remained steady. When the men around her moved forward, so did she. There were even times when she would dig a lead ball out of the dirt beside her, pick it up, and defiantly spit it out. Those who experienced their first taste of battle that July day would proclaim in letters home that it was Sallie that was the example of what each member of the regiment should strive to become.
That first battle, though not large in scope or staggering in losses, dramatically changed the 11th. The men had now witnessed death and had a part in taking lives. Watching a friend die and seeing others maimed had not just tested their character, it had altered their sense of reality. Though many were in their teens, they were now fully aware that death could come at any moment and that tomorrow was no longer guaranteed. Suddenly the glamor of war had been replaced with a grim sense of horror. On that July night, as they tried to find sleep, fear hung over their tents like a storm they couldn't escape.
Sallie made the rounds as usual. She went from tent to tent and silently offered her head for patting. She allowed troubled men to pick her up and hold her tightly in their arms. The terrier also solemnly studied the bed of the man who would not be coming back. Like the soldiers, on that night she slept fitfully. The next morning she was up before the signal for roll call and waited patiently for those soldiers who were healthy to join her. For the rest of her days in service Sallie would continue this routine of being the last to go to sleep at night and the first up each morning.
A bit more than a month later the 11th was sent back to the front lines. At the Battle of Cedar Mountain in Virginia, in the heat of August, the soldiers from Pennsylvania joined the Army of the Potomac to once more take on the Rebs. As man after man dropped, as cannonballs dug up huge mounds of dirt, and as rifles filled the air with lead, the terrier remained with the color guard. Then after the fighting ended, she made her way to the horrible and blood-soaked battlefield to inspect the bodies of the more than three hundred Union soldiers whose lives ended on that summer day. Well into the night she helped the death detail locate bodies hidden under brush and dirt. When those sober duties were completed, the dog made her way to the hospital staging area where she visited some of the fifteen hundred who had been wounded.
As the true horror of war sunk in, men wrote to their families about what they had witnessed. In many cases the most touching lines in those letters described the dog that seemed to understand and mourn for each man who had died at Cedar Mountain. The anxious and solemn soldiers also shared that when the dead had been buried and the wounded tended to, Sallie walked over to a hill, faced the direction of the Confederate lines, and mournfully cried. With that simple act she mirrored the thoughts and emotions of an entire nation that had come to realize that war was much more hell than glory.
The dog's unique reaction to war and adherence to duty continued at Thoroughfare Gap, Bull Run, Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville. Sallie courageously stood her ground during these battles and then served as a grief counselor when the hostilities ended. While the terrier's courage never wavered, her personality changed. The days of play had been replaced by a deep sense of loyalty and resolve. She seemed determined to greet each of the 11th's men every morning and stay as close as possible to them at night. She somehow understood they needed this bond.
With time, Sallie taught herself how to recognize the sounds of the enemy approaching and alert the men around her. She also began to somehow sense where cannonballs would be landing and with her frantic barks urged soldiers to roll away from that spot. These unique abilities seemingly gave Sallie a sense of invincibility. Thousands of bullets had struck within inches of her during the battles and she had not even been grazed. Thus, just before the start of hostilities, many in the 11th began to rub the terrier's head in an effort to "steal" some of her ability to dodge lethal fire.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "In The Line Of Fire"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Ace Collins.
Excerpted by permission of Abingdon Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Introduction,
1. Unexpected Heroism,
2. No Limits,
3. Loyalty,
4. Adoption,
5. Second Chance,
6. Resistance,
7. Flight,
8. Bond,
9. Value,
10. Honor and Courage,
11. Friendship,
12. Duty,
13. Sacrifice,