Ready for anything

      ‘What do you think about this fella? He enlisted with the name Brian, but he looks more like a Bing to me.’ Lance Corporal Ken Bailey was a dog lover, and his time with the Royal Army Veterinary Corps had convinced him that military working dogs were more than just fireside companions; they were capable of unstinting devotion to duty and exceptional courage. ‘Well, if you lot agree, we have a new recruit and we’re going to call him Bing.’ Ken looked directly into Bing’s big brown eyes as he said the name. ‘Bing! That’s a name to be proud of, lad, as you start your new life today.’

      The War Dog Training School in Potters Bar was a legacy of the First World War, thanks to the persistence of a certain Colonel Ernest Richardson. After a long battle with the War Office this dog lover and career soldier eventually persuaded them to consider the vital role that military-trained dogs could play in the conflict, both on the home front and on the Western front. Richardson’s stubborn refusal to take no for an answer finally paid off and in 1916 he was given the go-ahead to set up the training school. Consequently, the British Army followed the example of the French, Belgians and Germans in adopting canine power to assist the military – dogs could be seen guarding ammunition depots, patrolling with the troops and running messages in the trenches.

      Despite the success of the dog army in the Great War, it was again down to Colonel Richardson in 1939 to remind the Government that dogs could be serious weapons in the Second World War too. He was given permission to reopen the War Dog Training School and the public were asked to donate their pets for service. By April 1944 the school was just one of many military bases in the South of England preparing for D-Day. Plans for the invasion had been confirmed two months earlier, and the dogs were now very much part of a massive military deployment.

      Bing was one of several Alsatians chosen for training, but of all of them he was the most striking. As the dogs emerged from the block of grim wooden kennels it was obvious that he stood head and shoulders above the rest. After a good brushing, his long, thick coat shone and its treacle and honey-coloured layers beamed through the darker fur. That first night away from home had been tough for some of the dogs. Ken was used to hearing the pining and barking that echoed through the night and into the morning. He didn’t know if Bing had been one of the homesick recruits – it would take a little time to recognise the pitch of his cry – but he did know that his dog was the most handsome of the bunch. Even Bing’s one slightly flopped-over ear didn’t spoil his good looks. ‘You really are a special dog, aren’t you, mate? I bet your owner is missing you. They’re probably wondering what you’re up to, but it’s OK, I’ll look after you. Now, let’s get you that breakfast you were promised.’

      The dogs’ first day started the way every day in the Army would start from now on: an early-morning brush and an eye bath would be followed by a hearty breakfast, which included fresh meat, and because that disappeared in just a couple of gulps there was always a treat too – for Bing, at least. Ken had a good friend in the cookhouse who supplied the bones and offcuts that supplemented Bing’s daily rations, and as an experienced military dog trainer, Ken knew that bones could be a comforter while the dogs were in the kennels, especially in the early days when they must have been particularly missing their homes.

      After food and fuss, the next essential was a long walk and Bing was not disappointed. Ken wanted to get the full measure of this dog, because he only had two weeks to get him ready for active service. If Bing didn’t have the character and the drive necessary to become a military working dog then he would be going back home to Leicester. Bing’s good looks were not going to make him a war dog. He needed to show Ken that he had something exceptional to offer.

      It didn’t take Bing long to get used to his new name. From their first walk together Ken tested his new dog’s recall, and each time Bing ‘answered’ to his name he was rewarded with a bit of broken biscuit (most likely courtesy of Ken’s mate in the cookhouse). Food was a great incentive for Bing – this was a dog that had never refused a treat in his life – and over the two weeks of intensive training, he certainly earned his biscuits. He learned to walk through walls of noise: repeated hails of rapid fire, shells exploding at his feet and shrapnel slicing the air around him. The smell of war was new to him too. The stench of rotten eggs rose out of the smoke on the ground and engulfed Bing as he raised his muzzle to avoid it. ‘Good boy, Bing,’ Ken repeated as his dog continued to find his way through the obstacles to claim his biscuit treat.

      Bing passed his initial training with flying colours. Alongside his fellow graduates Monty, Flash and Rob, Bing became a fully qualified patrol dog. But this small team of dogs had made quite an impression on Ken and his fellow handlers, and the men had an idea they wanted to discuss with the paratroopers. Ken recognised something very special in Bing: while Bing thought he was playing a game, Ken saw a dog with a strong streak of determination and a keen need to please. Playing a game of hide and seek was always a favourite at home, so Bing had no trouble with Ken’s ‘military’ version, which included finding guns, ammunition and wooden mines. The smell of explosives became associated with a tasty reward. As long as there was a biscuit at the end of the ‘find’, Bing was a happy dog. The next level of training, however, would be something new to all of them. They were now dogs in search of their ‘wings’.

      *

       ‘What manner of men are those who wear the red beret? … They have jumped from the air and by doing so have conquered fear. They are, in fact, men apart. Every man an Emperor.’

      Field Marshal ‘Monty’ Montgomery

      There was a new game that Ken was keen for the dogs to play. This time the training ground was set away from the area the dogs had become familiar with over the past two weeks. Dominating a runway was the fuselage of an aircraft. The dogs were encouraged to climb inside and sniff around it as they got used to moving through its body. ‘Now, Bing, lad, this is a new game, but it’s a really good game. I think you’ll like it. Just follow me and we will be fine. And don’t worry, I have plenty of biscuits in my pocket!’

      Encouraging a dog to jump out of an aeroplane at several thousand feet was a job that Ken Bailey and his colleagues had to be good at. Ken had developed his own routine from his first jump with the only female ‘para dog’ recruit currently in the team, Ranee. Using a lump of meat weighing two pounds, Ken managed to keep Ranee’s attention the entire time. She sat at his heels as Ken took his place at the head of the queue of men waiting to parachute down. Wearing her own parachute pack, and without hesitating for a second, Ranee followed Ken out of the plane and even wagged her tail as she descended!

      Ken later reported that he saw Ranee’s face as she was in the air and although she looked bewildered, she wasn’t showing any signs of panic and looked towards him when she heard her name. Ranee landed ahead of her handler, rolled and then stood up, making no attempt to run away. Ken landed forty feet away but ran immediately to his dog, released her and rewarded her with the chunk of meat. Jump. Land. Eat. That was Ken’s routine, and with every jump the dogs made they appeared