Read the small print
Details have been changed to protect anonymity.
This story is mainly about one man’s experience that led to his love affair with German Shepherd Dogs. It is set in 1944-1945.
It was told to me 35 years ago by the man himself. It also explains why the same individual is imprisoned in his own home for one day every year and by whom!
There was no mistaking that Mr Clegg was a former military man, despite his advancing years he was upright, smartly dressed, wearing a tie and sporting a neatly trimmed moustache He had a jovial manner, a rather clipped way of speaking, not unusual in men who have served in the armed forces and he obviously had a great relationship with his German Shepherd Dog Sidney.
Mr Clegg’s arrival in my office was not so much about his lack of knowledge about how to train his dog but his frustration that age had reduced his mobility somewhat and as he put it.
“Bloody bones are creaking these days.”
I couldn’t possibly appreciate then what he was talking about but now that I am in my seventies I get it!
We spent several sessions sorting out walking on the lead, recall and jumping up and I was about to make his final appointment. It was to be one day early in September. Mr Clegg shook his head.
“Sorry, I’m not allowed out that day. ”
“Ok, how about later in the week.”
We agreed a mutually convenient day and time and being curious I just had to ask.
“May I ask what you mean when you said that you are not allowed out that day.”
He smiled and said. “Well I can but it will take a few minutes”
As it happened his was the last appointment of the morning so it was lunchtime and the following hour was mine. This was a man who didn’t strike me as someone who would be stopped from doing anything without good cause. In my younger years, when given the opportunity I was always ready to listen to the stories from the older generation. They had lived through times that I could only read about, had experiences that hopefully I would never go through and could sometimes part with the odd pearl of wisdom. I suggested a cup of tea which Mr Clegg accepted, I made a brew, I settled myself in my chair and the following is what he told me.
“The war was on and I saw an advert for glider pilots. It sounded great fun! Land a glider with troops and make your way back home. I was so very young and very naive.
I signed up for training to be a glider pilot. To cut a very long story short eventually in September 1944 I was informed that I was going to be taking troops somewhere but the destination was top secret. I said goodbye to my wife and didn’t want to worry her so I told her that I may be gone for 2 or 3 weeks.
My destination was finally revealed.
The bridge at Arnhem. Also known as “The Bridge too Far.”
It was to be the start of Operation Market Garden, the attempt to capture bridges over the river Rhine.
A Bridge Too Far
“I successfully landed on the designated drop zone which was miles away from the bridge, whoever dreamt that one up must have been barmy.”
He looked me straight in the eye and continued.
“Here young man is a lesson learned the hard way. Always read the small print. No, I wasn’t allowed to just find my way home and what’s more, having landed that damn glider I was just another soldier.
Instead of making my way home I was seconded by a very large and rather aggressive officer, given a rifle and instructed to join them. For nine days I fought for that bloody bridge.”
Mr Clegg paused, swallowed hard, this was obviously bringing back memories that were unpleasant. I can only imagine what this man went through and any of us who have read the book A Bridge Too Far by Cornelius Ryan or seen the film that was based on his book will know that some of those who were there suffered terrible hardships. I was about to ask if he would rather not continue but Mr Clegg resumed his narrative.
“Well eventually we were forced to surrender and we were taken to a prisoner of war camp. It was in the camp that we came across these wonderful German Shepherd Dogs that we admired so much. Being British we tried to befriend them much to the annoyance of the guards. They were meant to frighten us but we had some very experienced chaps in the camp who before the war had been gamekeepers, shepherds and military dog handlers. I was enthralled and promised myself that when I got home and things were normal I would find a way to have one. Then of course the end of the war came and eventually I got home after about a year. Of course, when they became available in England they were called Alsatians for obvious reasons. A few years later I got my first one and never had anything else.”
Mr Clegg stopped talking again, he closed his eyes, he was obviously lost again in his private thoughts.
I didn’t interrupt and respectfully waited until he opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t understand why you couldn’t come on the day we selected and why can’t you leave the house on that particular day.”
The elderly gentleman smiled and said.
“Well I guess it started as a ritual, one of those things that couples do and when I was working, on that day I’d take a days annual holiday every year, I still can’t even go out for a newspaper. Confined to barracks as they say.”
He paused again and with a big grin said.
“It’s all down to the wife. She reminds me on that day every year that in 1944 I told her I was going to be away for two to three weeks and I was gone for nearly a year!”
Historical fact. The Glider Pilot Regiment had the highest casualty rate of Operation Market Garden. 90% of its pilots were either killed, wounded or taken prisoner.
“Before you get a dog, you can’t imagine what living with one might be like, afterward you can’t imagine living any other way.”
Caroline Knapp