Free A Dog With a Destiny by Isabel George Page B

for Bill and Smoky to check one of them out. They had to be the perfect shelter in a storm, after all. Bill knew that some of the caves were used as family tombs so wasn’t surprised to find a selection of ceremonial pots laid out inside. He felt slightly awkward moving them but he needed to make room for himself and Smoky to lie down. What seemed like a good idea at the time turned into the most disturbed night’s sleep Bill had known for some time. Smoky sensed something in the cave and had fits of barking all night and Bill could hear voices. They were happy to get back to the mess hall for some peace and quiet. There was a general sense that it was time to go and so Bill and the others decided to hitch a lift to Korea on any plane going. Most of the C-46 cargo planes were damaged in the typhoons but there was one with wings intact that was flying out that day. Bill and Hembury, Smoky and Duke made sure they were on it and bound for Seoul.
    Bill and Smoky landed at Kimpo Airfield to discover their squadron had been billeted in barracks vacated by Japanese troops. It was October and the new accommodation felt luxurious in comparison with their digs in the Tropics. An escort Jeep had transferred them to their new temporary home, deep in the countryside. The cold was as difficult to live with as the intense heat of the jungle had been. The copious blankets and the two pot-bellied stoves in the dorms were a godsend. Smoky hated the cold and spent most of her time in Bill’s arms or in his cot. Korea was now a holding station for US servicemen waiting to receive the long-awaited order to go home. There was time to fill and as always Bill used some of it to teach Smoky new tricks. In tidying his bag to make room for a few Japanese souvenirs (swords, bayonets, rifles and pistols were on offer) he rediscovered the large cardboard letters that he had made to teach Smoky how to spell her name. He took it as a sign to try it all over again. But this time Smoky had a surprise in store for her master. He might have tried to fool her by mixing up the letters for her to find but this time she was on the ball. S-M-O-K-Y … there it was, every letter selected perfectly. Bill was so proud and there was a round of applause from the small but appreciative audience. Bill hugged Smoky so tight that he left her in no doubt that he was delighted with her performance which she repeated again and again each time to a standing ovation.
    On the way home, Bill’s main fear was concealing Smoky for the journey. This time, a gas mask bag came in handy and with some adaptation – zippered openings back and front – Smoky was able to practise going in and coming out of the bag to order. Bill wanted to take most of the show equipment back home too but the new barrack bags were not made with transporting circus equipment in mind. It was one bag per man and that was going to be difficult for some. Orders to depart came and went for Bill and Smoky but finally on 1 November 1946 it was their turn. Bill wrote home to say they were lining up for their last serving of army chow – it was quite a moment for the men and, if Smoky had realized the significance of the moment it would have been for her too, especially as all the meat she had known for the past two years was bully beef from a can. Getting to the US would mean a whole new life for Smoky and a new diet too. But first she had to get aboard the troop ship which was due to leave at 7 a.m. The excitement in the camp was almost tangible. Bill was understandably nervous – after all, army regulations stated, ‘No dog or mascot will go back to the US on a War Department ship.’ It was that clear. And it was the clarity that scared Bill the most. But he had a plan and Smoky had the routine in hand so he could not do any more. When the call to move out came at 3.30 a.m., Bill and Smoky were ready for their breakfast of pancakes and salty bacon before joining the horde of jolly GIs ready to board the