Judy: The Unforgettable Story of the Dog Who Went to War and Became a True Hero by Damien Lewis Page B

It was the quartermaster, calling out the sonorous chant: “Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!”
    Above the ship the yellow “Q” flag had been raised—denoting quarantine—but neither man nor dog had it in them to find much to laugh at in their present predicament.
    After Judy’s second bath laced with disinfectant in as many months, most of the terrible smell seemed to be gone. Even so, itwas several days before she was considered done with her quarantine and fit to be allowed back into the bosom of the ship’s family. As for Tankey, he’d spent hours scrubbing himself lobster pink in a desperate effort to be rid of the last vestiges of the unspeakable ordure. During the process he’d made a momentous decision: there would be no more forcing Judy to be a gundog, that was for sure.
    As the Gnat ’s early-warning system, Judy had proved herself to have no equal. But as far as classic pointing duties went, Tankey Cooper had concluded that she was very much a round peg in a square hole. She might have helped the Gnat avoid the cess ship on the Yangtze, but here in Hankow she’d led Tankey Cooper into the heart of a cesspit without rival!
    The Gnat ’s crew saw out that Christmas and the New Year in Hankow, after which the Bee sailed into port to relieve her of her duties. So it was that in the icy months of early 1937 the Gnat turned her prow eastward to start the return voyage downriver to Shanghai.
    Unknown to her crew, the Gnat was sailing into bloody trouble—as was the entire British gunboat fleet on the Yangtze. The conflict that was almost upon them would eclipse the spot of bother that the Gnat ’s crew had experienced at the hands of the Yangtze River pirates or indeed anything that had ever gone before.
    Shortly, Judy of Sussex would be called upon to save their lives many times over.

Chapter Five
    Late in the spring of 1937 the Japanese Imperial Armed Forces made their move. In the northeast of the country, around Peking (now Beijing), the Japanese military began maneuvers involving large numbers of ground troops. Tensions mounted inexorably as the Chinese military commanders watched what was unfolding and shadowed the Japanese soldiers’ every move.
    Finally, during a night exercise by Japanese forces around the strategically important Marco Polo Bridge—an ancient granite span lined with fantastic carved dragons that crosses the Yongding River, providing a crucial access point into Peking—shots were exchanged. What began as confused, sporadic exchanges of fire rapidly escalated into full-scale fighting, with soldiers hit and wounded on both sides.
    This was the excuse that Imperial Japan had been waiting for. Japan demanded that all Chinese troops withdraw from the area—in effect, ordering the Chinese military to vacate its own sovereign territory. When the ultimatum wasn’t met, the Japanese military launched an all-out offensive, bombarding Peking’s port city of Tientsin (now Tianjin). Under fierce air and land attack both Tientsin and then Peking itself fell to Japanese forces in late June 1937.
    So began what was to become known as the Second Sino-Japanese War. Age-old belligerents, the two nations had first resorted to all-out conflict in 1894. During a year of intense fighting the Japanese had scored a string of victories, and China’s Qing dynasty had beenforced to sue for peace. Now, barely four decades later, conflict had again engulfed these two ancient adversaries.
    China’s nationalist leader, Chiang Kai-shek, was quick to retaliate against the Japanese aggression. He directed the army and air force to counterattack against those Japanese forces based at the mouth of the Yangtze River in Shanghai. It was August 13, 1937, when war erupted in the port city—and the Paris of the East was engulfed in fire. Months of intense conflict lay ahead during which 200,000 Japanese troops, backed by air and sea power, would do fierce battle with the ill-equipped but spirited Chinese defenders.
    If