I CROUCHED DOWN in a muddy trench, rain spattering my shoulders, and fumbled with a small green felt bag tied to the collar of an alert, patient Airedale terrier. Opening the bag, I stuffed a folded piece of paper into it.
‘Go, Earnie, go!’ I whispered to him.
As soon as I released his collar, Earnie, a typical curly-haired brown and black Airedale, took off at speed. He leapt out of the trench and tore across the field to another trench, where his owner, Karin Schnichels, was hiding. Spotting her immediately, Earnie leapt straight down into the trench to deliver the message.
We were filming for Countryfile as part of a special edition that went out on Remembrance Sunday; dedicated to the way life in the countryside was affected by the First World War. The programme covered the regeneration of the countryside where the battles were fought, the cemeteries of the war dead that are so beautifully maintained and the development of the first tanks in Lincolnshire, among other topics.
I found filming my segment was very moving: I looked at the way dogs, particularly Airedales, were used in the First World War to carry important information from the trenches back to headquarters; risking their lives to save human lives, acting with incredible bravery as shells whined around them, dodging the holes left by the heavy artillery bombardment, tearing their flanks on jagged barbed wire, racing on despite being hit by snipers’ bullets. I felt very humble in the safe surroundings of a farm field near Ipswich demonstrating how those amazing dogs worked, and I was well aware that I was many miles and lifetimes away from the harrowing, appalling conditions of the French battlefields where so many young soldiers perished.
It’s important, a hundred years on, as we remember the horrific conditions of that terrible war, not to overlook how crucial dogs were to the war effort and how courageously they worked – unquestioningly obedient and willing to give their lives for mankind. Hearing their stories, I was deeply moved by how much we owe to these remarkable creatures – the dogs we have taken into our lives and who reward us with loyalty beyond imagination. I know, from working every day with my own dogs, how valuable they are in my life, and in the lives of any shepherd or farmer, how loyal they are and how much they want to please. But my dogs have comfortable beds to sleep in at night, if they have an accident they are whisked to a vet, and they live long, fulfilled lives.
These trenches dogs, the ones who saved so many lives, were far from the comfort of their homes, their injuries were tended in rudimentary fashion, and as soon as they were fit they were back at the front line. Thousands died on active service, and thousands more were killed at the end of the war; put down when their help was no longer needed.
I didn’t know of the work of dogs in the war until I made the programme, but it is one episode of Countryfile that has made an indelible impression on me. I interviewed author Isabel George, who has written extensively about the use of animals in warfare, and it really struck home when she told me that it was men like me – farmers, gamekeepers and shepherds – who were mainly chosen by the army to handle the dogs in the trenches, for the obvious reason that we work with dogs all the time.
We chose to stage the recreation of how messages were carried by dogs with an Airedale because that was the breed used more than any other. When I heard this, my immediate question was: why? Today we don’t particularly think of Airedales as a popular working breed, but I was soon to learn what made them the right choice for the war effort 100 years ago.
At the start of the First World War, the British had not yet cottoned on to the idea that dogs were useful on the battlefield. There was only one working military dog, an Airedale with the 2nd Battalion of the Norfolk Regiment, and he was being used as a sentry. By contrast, the French army had 5,000 working dogs and the Germans 6,000. Ironically, many of the German army dogs had actually been bought in Britain in the years leading up to the conflict. As early as 1895, the German government was sending agents to Britain to buy large numbers of dogs, particularly collies, because of their intelligence and natural willingness to train and work.
The most important man in this story is Lieutenant Colonel Edwin Hautenville Richardson, who pioneered the use of dogs here (and whose training methods were taken up by the US army in turn, and who still influences dog training today). Edwin Richardson was the son of a gentleman farmer, so he grew up with a close knowledge of the land, and in particular, of dogs working on the land. He knew from an early age, as I did, that dogs are a vital extra worker, sometimes doing the work of more than one man around a farm. He also loved them, and I completely agree with the words he wrote in his book, published in 1920: ‘As a family we have a way with dogs and all animals. What this exactly means is extremely difficult to define, but there seems to be in people this sense, a certain sympathetic confidence, to which the animal responds with a like attitude. This comradeship is very delightful, and brings much sweetness and happiness in life. One feels really sorry for those people who do not possess it, as certainly they deny themselves an immense amount of pleasure and innocent fun.’
I can’t improve on what he said: he was clearly a man after my own heart. As a young man he was well educated, being sent abroad to become fluent in both German and French, and then on to Sandhurst to become a British army officer. After he married, Lt Col Richardson and his wife Blanche bought a farming estate in Scotland, where they raised their two sons in a household shared with lots of dogs.
It was while he was out shooting with friends before the war that Lt Col Richardson saw a shepherd selling one of his dogs to a German, and when he spoke to the foreigner he discovered he was going round the countryside buying up dogs for army service back in Germany. Intrigued, and already very keen on dog training, he and Blanche set about training their own dogs. Richardson made contact with dog-training schools in France, Belgium, Holland and Germany. He even went over to Germany to see collies being trained as Red Cross dogs for finding wounded soldiers. He bought one of the dogs and brought it back.
Convinced that dogs would be useful if Britain were to find itself at war, Lt Col Richardson started training his own dogs to carry messages, find wounded men on the battlefield, guard objects and act as sentries. There were army camps nearby, and he was able to train his dogs, unofficially, with the soldiers – all at his own expense.
The dogs were so good that various officers from the camps wrote to the War Office about their usefulness. Other countries recognised how good these dogs were: when Russia went to war with Japan their army bought several Airedales from Lt Col Richardson, which resulted in him being awarded a Red Cross medal and given a gold watch by the Czar. He went on to supply dogs to Morocco, Bulgaria, India and Italy and even sent sentry dogs to guard the harem of the Sultan of Turkey!
However, back in Britain, despite many recommendations, including from Queen Mary, by the time the Great War broke out, he had only one Airedale working officially in military service, with the Norfolk Regiment. The police were gratefully recruiting dogs from him, including bloodhounds, collies and Airedales. But when he offered the services of his dogs to the army he was rebuffed: the War Office was too busy organising the shipping out to Europe of vast numbers of men, equipment and supplies, and there was no time or money to spend on dogs. The Red Cross were willing to use them, however, and found them an immense help leading them to men who were wounded, among the many dead.
Lt Col Richardson did not give up his belief that dogs had more to give; continuing to train his dogs and travelling to France to see how the French were using their dogs on the front line. He was constantly fighting to convince military bosses that dogs would be formidable allies for men fighting on the front line. Eventually, halfway through the war, he was asked to set up a training school for war dogs at Shoeburyness, Essex, and within a month 30 dogs were in the trenches – most of them collies, but also Airedales and German shepherd dogs. (It was during the First World War that German Shepherds became known as Alsatians, because anything with ‘German’ in the name was associated with the enemy.) Soon, the Airedales were performing so well that they became the breed most in demand.
Which brings me back to my question: what is it about Airedales that made them so suitable for this work? They are not a breed I had encountered much before, and I had no idea of their history.
Airedales are the biggest of the terrier breeds, known to their fans as the ‘king of terriers’. They originate from the Aire Valley, in West Yorkshire, where, in the mid-nineteenth century, miners competed to breed a dog that was the best hunter and the best fighter. By selective breeding the Airedale evolved into a strong, brave, intelligent dog, loyal to his masters but quick to see off anyone he regarded as an enemy. It was a multi-purpose dog, very useful for retrieving during hunting (or poaching) expeditions, very happy to work in water, and with some herding skills, as well as its supremacy in dog fights. The downside is that they are not the easiest breed to train: you have to start early and persevere, so they are not recommended as family pets for anyone who is not prepared to put in the time and effort. But once they’ve been trained, they work superbly and willingly.
The main reason that Lt Col Richardson favoured them is because they are fearless. He assessed this by feeding all his dogs once a day, and a few minutes before their grub was served he threw several grenades into a nearby pit creating a loud noise. When the noise stopped the food was removed. For the first couple of days the dogs went hungry, until the bravest left their kennels and ran to the food. The ones who did well in this test, and were actually waiting for the noise that signalled food, were then trained to run through smoke, barbed-wire fences, across hurdles, through hedges and to work with the constant scream of shells from practice batteries, with heavy army vehicles passing to and fro. Local people volunteered to be the wounded, and as the dog approached they were told to fire blank cartridges.
Many other dogs showed as much courage as the Airedales, but no other breed was so consistently reliable. They are large enough to be able to leap wire, agile enough to dodge shell holes and their brown and black colouring was good camouflage in the mud of no man’s land. Richardson found retrievers and Labradors were too compliant, not independent enough, and other breeds were too playful and could be distracted. Whereas Airedales, once given a task, were single minded and determined.
Once the War Office approved, the first two Airedales went out to France: Wolf and Prince, who carried messages for a battalion of the Royal Artillery. They were so successful that Richardson was inundated with requests for more.
The dogs travelled out to the battlefield with their handlers – known as keepers – who were the only ones allowed to feed them. This gave the dogs a huge incentive to get back to their handlers, who were based at headquarters, from wherever they were taken to on the front line. They were released with messages, and would run through the worst of conditions to make it back. Field telephones existed in the First World War, but reception was poor and the booming of artillery and wailing of shells made it impossible to hear. Men who carried messages had a very short life expectancy as they were a natural target for snipers. So dogs, when they finally arrived with the British troops, were invaluable.
One of the most difficult problems was to stop the soldiers in the trenches petting and feeding them: the presence of a dog in a trench was a huge boost to morale, lifting the spirits of young, homesick soldiers, as the dogs pushed wet noses into tired faces. But it was vital that the dog was kept alert and ready for duty, and any soldier caught sharing his rations with a dog was in serious trouble. There was a rule that no dog would spend more than 12 hours in a trench, to prevent him becoming too hungry and too comfortable with the soldiers there.
There are many tales of canine heroism, but the most famous is the story of Jack, an Airedale who rescued an entire battalion of the Sherwood Foresters that was surrounded and cut off without supplies. The message for help and reinforcements was put into his leather pouch, and off he went, running full pelt through the carnage of the battlefield.
A piece of shrapnel smashed his jaw, a shell tore open his back, and finally his forepaw was shattered by a sniper’s bullet, but still he kept going, dragging himself the final three kilometres. When he reached headquarters he collapsed and died, but his message had got through, and reinforcements relieved the battalion. Many, many lives were saved by his incredible bravery and determination. I’m staggered when I think of it: how tempting it must have been to lie down and give up, but something inside him, some indomitable force, made him keep going. It’s very moving to think of his remarkable determination.
While Jack’s is perhaps the most spectacular story, there are many more of dogs who fulfilled their missions, time after time. One dog keeper recorded in his log: ‘Boxer, a staunch, reliable Airedale, went over the top with the Kents. He was released at 5am with an important message. He jumped at me at 5.25am. A tip top performance, about four miles. Great dog!’
Another keeper wrote that his dog, Tom, was gassed and hit by shrapnel, but only needed two weeks to fully recover and be back at his post.
Because of my own close affinity with sheepdogs, I particularly like the story of Tweed, a large rough-coated sheepdog. When he arrived at the military dog school, Lt Col Richardson was not impressed as Tweed was slow to pick up the training and the colonel dismissed him as dim-witted. It was Blanche, the colonel’s wife, who took over his training and in the end he served for six months, surviving Passchendaele. In May 1918, the Queen Victoria’s Rifles were caught off guard by a surprise German attack near Amiens and pinned down by heavy shelling. If they did not hold the line, the Germans would break through and take Amiens, but they were low on ammunition and badly needed reinforcements. They stuffed a message into Tweed’s leather pouch, and he sprinted off into the night. His keeper wrote later: ‘He came through a Boche barrage, three kilometres in ten minutes. The French were sent up and filled the gaps and straightened the line, otherwise Amiens would be in the hands of the Germans.’
Six days later, Tweed made three night runs carrying messages that alerted headquarters that the Germans were preparing a raid. Lt Col Richardson said he was ‘a dog not easily forgotten’.
After the War Office recognised the immense value of dogs on the battlefield, demand soon outstripped supply. Dogs were originally recruited from Battersea Dogs Home and other dog shelters, but eventually appeals were made to families to give up their pets. More than 7,000 family dogs were donated, a substantial contribution to the 20,000 dogs who served in the war. Sadly, because of the expense of keeping a dog, during the war when food was scarce many healthy dogs were put down, to Lt Col Richardson’s annoyance: he felt that more would have been given to him if their owners had been told about his training school. Quite a few that did come to him were not in good enough health to be used. In his final dispatch of the war Field Marshal Haig, the British commander on the Western front, acknowledged their vital importance to the victory.
To quote Lt Col Richardson again: ‘The trained dog regards himself highly honoured by his position as a servant of His Majesty, and renders no reluctant service. From my observation along this line I have, in fact, come to the conclusion that a dog trained to some definite work is happier than the average loafing dog, no matter how kindly the latter may be treated. I certainly found it to be the case with the army dog.’
Again, I can only agree: my sheepdogs are always ready and eager to work and seem to definitely prefer days when they have a job to do on the farm to simply being taken out for a walk. I’ve never owned a dog that does not have a purpose, whether it’s for retrieving or working with sheep.
With the help of Earnie the Airedale we were able to illustrate the work of the amazing messenger dogs who worked in such terrible conditions for Countryfile. While obviously we could not reproduce the real conditions those dogs worked in, Earnie was able to show how fast and how obedient a well-trained Airedale is.
Earnie and his owner Karin Schnichels live in Surrey, and Karin takes him and her other three Airedales to obedience classes, where they compete against other breeds. Karin confirms my prejudice in favour of collies by admitting that when collies are in the competition, it is rare for any other breed to win, but she loves Airedales for their feisty spirits.
When Karin was asked why she thought Lt Col Richardson preferred Airedales to other breeds, she said: ‘They are bloody-minded individuals, they like to do what they think is appropriate.’ She believes they act on instinct and with bravado, never thinking about their own safety. ‘They are tenacious, determined, brave, stubborn, agile, alert … everything you would want from a dog that was going to war.’
When I met Earnie, and another of Karin’s dogs, Denzell, who came along as an understudy for the filming, they immediately took to me, and I felt the same about them, with their tough, wiry coats and their intelligent faces. Denzell was so excited to meet me he bounced round me, wrapping his flexi lead around my legs, while seven-year-old Earnie was busy drinking a cup of tea which someone had unwisely left on the ground. I asked Karin about the background of Airedales, and she told me they were bred from Waterside terriers and Otterhounds: I can see the Otterhound in them.
Before we started filming, Karin made us all laugh when she pointed out that she is of German nationality, so that we were actually sending a message to a German trench. We were filming at Trench Farm, near Ipswich, in Suffolk, where there is a set of re-created trenches. Earnie stayed with me in one trench, which was built with similar wooden supports and duckboards as those that were used in the war, while Karin made her way to the other set of trenches lower down the field. Karin had made a green pouch, very similar to the ones used in the First World War, and I placed a note inside it, then told Earnie to go.
He shot out of the trench, covering the distance by the most direct route, avoiding the obstacles littered across the field to simulate the wartime conditions, and then leapt into the narrow trench where Karin was crouched. He virtually dropped like a stone, six feet down through the small opening. Unfortunately, the camera crew were expecting him to go to the sloping end of the trench, not leap in. We filmed again, and the second time he crashed into the crew in his determination to get to Karin as quickly as possible. Third time lucky, and we got the shots we needed.
Yes, I was only too aware of how staged and sanitised this was. But Earnie did his bit, and it was clear why Airedales had the characteristics that were needed for this vital work. There was one final, very poignant, moment, when I went across to Karin’s trench and took the note out of Earnie’s pouch, reading it with a lump in my throat.
‘I have given my husband and my sons, and now that he is required, I give my dog, too.’
This was a real letter, sent by a woman who donated her pet dog to the training school for military dogs. Her sacrifice is almost too great for comprehension.
Lt Col Richardson continued to train dogs after the First World War, and by the outbreak of the Second World War there was no need to convince the military authorities of their worth in a theatre of war and they were used for detecting explosives, patrolling and guarding ammunition. Some were even parachuted into France during the D-Day landings under heavy artillery fire. Three thousand three hundred dogs served with the British military, and more than 200 were killed in action. Another 1,500 were put down after their military service ended. But the bravery of the dogs was recognised when, in 1943, the PDSA introduced the Dickin Medal, the animal equivalent of a Victoria Cross, to be awarded to the most courageous.
On the home front, the government again appealed to owners to give up their pets for war service, and a large number responded. For many of them, feeding a dog while living on reduced rations themselves was very difficult, and also very controversial: neighbours who were struggling to feed families were often openly critical of pet owners, believing dogs were eating valuable resources, and a great many dogs were put down.
I know about this for the most poignant of reasons. My dad, who throughout my life was my mentor and my hero, came into farming from an unusual background – so unusual that I and my sisters did not know the full story until after he had retired from the farm. We’d heard bits of it, but somehow it had never been very clear: no wonder, because it was a tangled and very moving story. After a little prompting, Dad wrote a long, detailed letter, with copies for me and my three sisters.
Dad’s parents were an actress whose stage name was Billie Dell, and a very famous actor and comedian, Leslie Henson. My grandmother’s fiancé had been recently killed in a motorcycling accident. Leslie, who was married at the time, swept into her life when they appeared together in a West End production, and he filled the gap in her life. When Billie became pregnant with my dad, Leslie rented a home for her, later buying a house. But he wasn’t able to leave his wife, the actress Gladys Henson, even though he regularly spent time with Billie and their son.
Eventually, aware that Leslie (who was known to Dad as Lally) was never going to divorce his wife and marry her, Billie moved away, down to Bournemouth, and it was there that Dad acquired his first dog, a lovely big Great Dane called John. Dad adored John, and was completely devastated when, during the Second World War, his mother decided to hand him back to the kennels he came from because she couldn’t stand the constant criticism from neighbours and passers-by for keeping a big dog when food was rationed. It must have been a very sad day for Dad.
There was some compensation, though, because by this time Billie had met and married my father’s stepdad, Cyril, a fine man who Dad grew to love, and who after John was re-homed bought a little brindle bull terrier pup, Barney. This was another four-legged friend Dad became very close to. After the outbreak of war, Barney went with Cyril when he became a Bristol Blenheim bomber navigator, living with him at the RAF base but coming home on leave to Dad, who was eight or nine at this time, and Billie.
I’m going to quote from Dad’s letter: ‘One day, which I will never forget, the postman called with a telegram for Mum. Cyril was reported missing. Mum collapsed in tears and I held her in my arms, telling her that he was only missing. She seemed to know that she would never see him again.’
When Cyril’s possessions were collected from the base, among them was Barney. Dad and he became inseparable and spent hours roaming together. Barney was a scrapper and Dad had to hold him tight on his lead when another dog came towards them. After a fight with a German shepherd he was reported to the police and an officer called at the house. Barney, who had been devoted to Cyril, loved any man in uniform, and made such a fuss of the constable that he was let off with nothing more than a warning to Dad to keep him under control.
On one occasion he probably saved Dad’s life when they wandered on to the beach together. Barney went ahead, turning and barking at Dad leading him through the sand dunes. When they reached the road Dad saw the sign ‘KEEP OUT. HEAVILY MINED.’ Barney had guided Dad through, avoiding the mines.
Sadly, one day when Dad’s father Lally was visiting, Barney attacked another dog so ferociously that Lally had to hit him with a stick to get him to let go, and Lally then insisted that Billie get rid of him. But it worked out OK for Barney: he was given to a seaplane pilot in the Fleet Air Arm, another man in uniform, and Dad and Billie later heard that he used to swim out to sea after the seaplane until it took off.
Leslie Henson finally divorced and married Billie in 1944, and Dad’s birth certificate was changed to acknowledge Dad as Leslie’s son. He and Billie had another son, the actor Nicky Henson, Dad’s brother.
It’s comforting to know that in Dad’s tumultuous childhood, so very different from the secure idyll he and Mum gave to me and my sisters, he had the companionship of dogs. However, the stories of John and Barney underlined to me just how difficult it was to keep dogs as pets during the war. As I have learned to say goodbye to dogs when their lives come to a natural end, he had to say goodbye in very different circumstances. But I’m sure those early experiences with dogs as his companions – and the rabbits, chickens and geese he and his mother kept during the war – were the building blocks of his love of the outdoors and farming, and took him on a route in life that would never have been predicted by his show business family.
The Countryfile programme I made brought the story of how dogs are used in the armed forces right up to date. I visited the Defence Animal Centre at Melton Mowbray, where they carry out some of the most sophisticated military dog training in the world. The centre opened in 1946, initially to train dogs for the army, but now it also trains them for the RAF and the navy. So Lt Col Richardson’s lesson was well learnt: dogs are an essential tool of modern warfare, and also for peacetime duties with all sections of the armed forces. Not just the military, either: the centre trains dogs for the UK Immigration Service, HM Prison Service, HM Revenue and Customs and other UK government agencies.
More than 250 dogs are trained there every year, with 150 there at any one time. After being cleared through security (and, yes, my car was given a thorough once-over by a sniffer dog), I met the officer in charge, Major Tom Roffe-Silvester, and, as I looked round the state-of-the-art facilities I commented that it was a far cry from the school that Lt Col Richardson set up, but that he would be proud to see his legacy.
I asked Major Roffe-Silvester whether dogs were still relevant today and he assured me they were needed more than ever. No amount of technology can completely supersede their skills. Just as quad bikes were once tipped to take over from sheepdogs, but are now recognised as a great addition to have on a farm, but certainly not a replacement for a dog that can work away from the shepherd and use its own initiative, so it is with military dogs. As Major Roffe-Silvester told me: ‘We use dogs alongside the latest technology, and together that builds up a great toolbox in operations. Nothing can replace a dog’s ability to follow a scent, and they are also more mobile.’
Nowadays, we have sophisticated ways of transmitting information, so dogs are no longer required to carry messages, but they are used to search vehicles for arms and explosives, to guard military bases, and to give soldiers warnings of IEDs (improvised explosive devices), ambushes and possible suicide bombers. As Dad realised after Barney led him safely through a minefield, dogs are brilliant at threading their way through danger, and one of their most valuable roles in conflict is to tell soldiers where bombs have been planted. Their sense of smell is off the scale compared with ours, and they can be trained to alert to almost anything.
The dogs most commonly trained for defence work are the Malinois, a type of Belgian shepherd, which look very similar to German shepherds but finer, and an alert, intelligent and strong breed. German shepherds are also trained for the same work. Springer spaniels, Labradors and a few cocker spaniels are used to search for explosives, drugs or other contraband. Training takes between nine weeks and 18 months, which impressed me: I know how many hours I put into training my sheepdogs.
I watched a demonstration as one of the Malinois was given the ‘Attack’ command, and immediately went after a man who was running away. The target was wearing a heavily padded ‘bite arm’, designed for these demonstrations, so that when the dog grabbed him it didn’t do any damage. But I could easily see that without the protection the dog would have practically taken his arm off.
I asked his handler, who had him under complete control: ‘How come the dog went for him, and not for me?’
‘Because I pointed him at the target,’ was the reassuring reply.
To get the dog to release the arm, the handler squeaked a little toy, and the dog immediately returned to his side. Another dog, also a Malinois, demonstrated sniffing out IEDs, the deadly improvised explosive devices which have caused so much loss of life and injury to our troops in recent years. He was on a long rope lead and he walked in a dead-straight line down a 40-metre sandy track, where a tiny piece of electrical wire had been hidden two inches down in the sand. The dog stopped, sat down and stared at the spot until his handler called him off with another squeaky toy. I was very impressed.
I was told how dogs have been used in every theatre of war since the Second World War, including the recent conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. I was thrilled to meet JJ, a boisterous, friendly yellow Labrador who was injured in Afghanistan. JJ was deployed to Afghanistan in 2011 with his handler, Corporal Phil Corlett, who trained alongside him at the Defence Animal Centre. JJ’s job was to sniff out roadside IEDs. While he was working he fell down a deep well, breaking his back.
Unlike the dogs who served in the two World Wars, who would have been immediately put down, JJ was treated, flown back to Britain and given extensive physio at the veterinary and rehabilitation facility, which is on the same site as the training centre.
To the delight of both JJ and Phil, they were reunited as soon as he got back – a ‘hugely emotional’ moment, Phil says.
Now, happily, JJ has been adopted by Phil and his girlfriend Gina and is a very contented family pet, who likes nothing more than splashing through streams (well, he is a Labrador …) on his daily walks. I was amazed to see how well he has recovered from such a severe injury, and relieved that we are now treating our hero dogs so well.
I ended my part of the Remembrance Day programme with the words:
‘One hundred years later, the legacy of Lieutenant Colonel Edwin Richardson lives on.’
Dogs are still saving lives, day after day. We owe them so much. In the next chapter I will tell you about the remarkable work of two civilian dogs I have met who every day make their own contribution to keeping their owners safe and well.