![]() When the Regiment shipped out of Connecticut, Conroy smuggled Stubby onto the troop train that brought them down to Newport News, Virginia. But getting the canine to France would take some doing as Army rules forbid the possession of personal pets. Īlthough the pair had not known each other long when it was time for the 102nd to ship out to Europe, Conroy decided he couldn’t leave Stubby behind. The brindle Boston bull terrier shortly became as much a part of the 102nd as Conroy, himself. Soon enough, the two were inseparable, with Conroy spending his free time teaching the newly named dog, Stubby, a variety of tricks, including how to salute. A stray dog with a short tail, made Conroy’s acquaintance (most likely due to the food Conroy gave the pup). Conroy was sent from his home in New Britain, Connecticut, to the campus of Yale University where he and his fellow members of the 102nd Infantry Regiment of the 26th Division were preparing for war. After being drafted into the Army National Guard at the United States’ entrance into the Great War, Robert J. Stubby’s illustrious story begins across the pond in New Haven, Connecticut, with one special man. But Stubby was no specially trained dog – he was not even supposed to be in the war at all. This was neither the first nor the last time Stubby had saved an American Service member. The only reason his body was not lifeless at his duty station was because of the heroics of Stubby. Once the man and pooch reached relative safety- only experiencing minor injuries from exposure to the thick yellow fog- the weight of what Curtin just went through hit him like a ton of bricks: he was nearly killed by the German gas. Curtin secured his gas mask upon his face, grabbed the mutt, and traversed the maze of trenches in the hopes of evading the noxious chemicals. Stubby, the 102nd’s dog, was warning him of an impending mustard gas attack by the Germans, located just a few hundred yards across “no man’s land.” With great haste, Sgt. As he quickly came to, he realized all too fast what was going on. Curtin was abruptly awoken by the frantic howling and barking of a dog. ![]() Seemingly just as soon as he began dreaming of his home in Connecticut, Sgt. Curtin fell into the sort of sleep one experiences while under extreme stress and deprivation. With his chin tilted forward resting against his sternum and his helmet falling down to just block out the light, Sgt. Closing his eyes for a few minutes would not hurt anyone, he decided. The khaki uniform that denoted him as belonging to the 102nd Regiment of the American Expeditionary Force (AEF) was stained with dirt, sweat, and perhaps even a little blood from the seemingly endless death and destruction which surrounded him.ĭespite being scared beyond his wit’s end that he would not be able to react in time to save himself from a deadly German artillery shell, exhaustion hung over him like a weighted blanket. The duckboard on which he sat just barely kept him protected from the stagnant water that was omnipresent in the dugouts, which scarred the French countryside in 19. His rifle and bayonet were haphazardly strewn across his lap as his back pressed against the cool damp wall of the trench. Curtin fell into a deep and bone-tired sleep. Feeling as safe as one could in the break between enemy fire, Sgt. Curtin found himself dozing while in the trenches during the Battle of Chemin des Dames. A portrait of Stubby, who made a name for himself on the WWI battlefields of France and then became a regular in D.C.'s social scene.
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