Chapter 40

Hürtgen Forest, Germany
Mid-Spring 1944

The field hospital in which “Doc” Wilder was assigned was on the move.

After the sustained and deadly battle of Hurtgen Forest, at the German front, the medical unit had to be relocated. Casualties were severe. By the end of this four-month engagement, over 33,000 American troops died. It was considered one of the bloodiest events in the European theater during WWII. To say the medical team was put to their paces and pushed past human endurance was an understatement. However, the personnel served tirelessly to treat and save the never-ending barrage of wounded and dying.

Doc Wilder, who carried the rank of Captain, was the head of the medical team. His undergraduate education at the Citadel had prepared him for positions of command. It was his responsibility to oversee the medical operations of the 75 personnel assigned to it. One would think that the endless parade of death and carnage would harden one, but Doc Wilder remained empathic and caring. Each patient was treated as if they were the only one in the unit. When he had to deliver hard news to a soldier, he was always forthright and honest. Yet, there was always a tone of compassion in his voice. He knew that everyone of these patients had full lives of promise before entering the conflict. He was the one that had to let them know that those promises may not be fulfilled.

The relocation of the hospital and patients was a logistical nightmare. However, the dedicated team made it happen. On the move to the new location to the south, the convoy stopped for a rest break and to eat. It was a dangerous move, but the personnel had to be feed and the patients tended to. Doc Wilder got out of his jeep and went to a nearby stream and decided to eat by creek’s bank. He realized that for the first time since he left home, a sense of quietness. The gently babbling stream reminded him of his grandparents' home in the country on the outskirts of Savannah, where in their childhoods, he, his father and uncles would play with paper boats and the never-ending supply of wriggling tadpoles. It also reminded him of bag lunches his grandmother would pack. Tranquility swept over him and for the first time, he allowed his defenses to relax. Also, the memory of his grandmother’s roast beef sandwiches made him hungry.

While he was pulling out a tin of sausages from his rucksack, he heard a soft cry.

Really, it was more of a whimper.

It was not human. He looked around and saw a furry tan and white pup lying on its side. It was not moving and was barely breathing. Doc went to assess the severity of the pup’s condition. A quick scan showed the dog had a badly mangled back leg and appeared to be blind. Its breathing was shallow. It had all the signs of a rapidly approaching and painful death. Doc had his rifle strapped to his shoulder. Given the fact he was an ace marksman, with one quick shot he could end the poor dog’s misery. As he raised his gun. The pup turned his head to the sound of the impending shot.

Doc froze. His eyes misted.

Instead, he put the gun down and then wrapped the dog in his field jacket. The creature nestled his head to the heartbeat in Doc’s chest. He took the pup to his jeep, pulled out his first aid kit and started attending to him. He did not believe the dog would make it all the way to the hospital’s new location. However, he was determined to make the pup as comfortable as he could so its life would not be spent in agony and even worse, alone.

By miracle, the dog survived the trip. Doc had given the pup a sedative to help alleviate the pain from its leg. There were no veterinarian corps available, but Doc knew the leg would have to be removed to save the dog’s life.

Doc performed the surgery himself and waited the critical hours afterwards to monitor whether the dog would rally or not. He inserted an IV drip to give him fluids. He gave up his night’s sleep and held the little dog. To him, the pup became a symbol of hope and determination.

The next morning saw a remarkable improvement. Doc had decided to name him Sam.

Over time, the pup developed physical strength and a friendly, loving disposition. Sam knew he had been saved and made every effort to everyone he met that they should know it.

Dogs in medical units were not common. However, just about every boy who was now the age of these soldiers had or did have a dog that loved them. Doc knew this and would take Sam with him on his rounds. The three legged and blind pup became an inspiration to the wounded. He was a reminder of the unconditional love they once had from their canine companions. Those who had lost limbs or their sight took a page from the courage of the little fellow.

Often at night, Sam would leave the security of his master’s bed and limp into the ward. He could sense if a soldier needed additional comfort.

With all his might, he would make his way onto the soldier’s cot. He put his head near the patient’s heart. For some, it was purely a comfort, for some, it was the last moment of a loving act they would know.