Copyright in the U.S A. by Elizabeth Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2014 https://archive.org/details/dikdogofbelgiumOObank DIK : A Dog of Belgium. By ELIZABETH BANKS Author o( " The Luck of the Black Cat." " The Autobiography of a Newspaper Girl," etc. They called him " Bomb-proof Dik," because the noise of battle never moved him. Even when he was in training for his career as a Red Cross dog in Antwerp he did not start or run, as was the way with other young dogs, when the trainer made" strange, unearthly sounds issue from various corners, in order to accustom his pupils to the roar of cannon and the explosion of bombs. Full of the curiosity, wonderment and venturesomeness of youth, Dik" would always go off immediately to investigate what made the noise, so that instead of teaching him not to be afraid, it was found necessary to instruct him in the ways of caution. When Dik took his lessons, Fidele accompanied him. Fidele was his mother, and in the days of DiVs puppyhood most beautifully she carried out toward him all the duties which her name implied, for in English we should call her bv the name ot Faithful. Fidele, too, belonged to the Red Cross Service, and when she accompanied Dik to his lessons she made herself useful not only in mothering him, but in showing off, for his benefit, some ot her superior knowledge. This filled Dik's heart with a soaring ambition. Perhaps it was because he noted that his mother could not control a little start at the sound of an exploding bomb or the sudden firing of a gun that Dik determined never to be affected by such things; and so it was that when he somehow mysteriously got separated from Fidele and went away from Antwerp with a Red Cross unit, Dik quickly became known as one of the most valorous dogs in the service of the Belgian Army, and among all the soldiers as well as by the Red Cross surgeons and helpers he was greatly beloved. Not a man in the ranks, not an officer commanding, but would share his rations with Dik. giving him the choicest titbits from the big stew- pans of the field-kitchen. It was when the firing had ceased, after battle, that Dik's duties began. Then he went forth with the Red Cross men to search for the wounded. Wearing his uniform of white blanket with a red cross stitched on either side, Dik would first stand stiffly at " Atten- tion ! " before his commanding officer and then, at the short, sharp word " Cherchez ! " he would bound away, filling the desolate wood and field with a penetrating, yet gentle, " Woof-Woof ! " in order that the wounded might know, from afar, that a comforter approached. For comforter, indeed, was Dik. His blanket- pockets were laden with all the requisites of first-aid — a bottle of brandy and water, a bottle of hygienic liquid for the cleansing and easing of wounds ; food tabloids in a little pocket by themselves, and, in still another, bandages and medicated cotton wool. Close to the prostrate men in the blue uniform with red stripes Dik would go, " standing by " while those who could help themselves would put their hands in his pockets and take the bottles and the tabloids, rubbing the lotion upon their wounds and binding their limbs with the bandages. Then a word of thanks and a pat for Dik, as he went on his way. But there were soldiers who did not stretch out their hands to Dik's pockets. Some, to Dik's amaze- ment, had no hands at all, and some were so badly wounded that they were helpless. Dik understood all this in a moment, and so he did not " stand by," but with just a reassuring bark he would turn and bring back with the utmost dispatch the men who carried the stretchers. He had learned to know, too, when no help could be rendered to the stiff, stark figures which lay on the ground, and so he went on, understanding that the wounded must first be helped, and that afterwards would the dead be buried. There were times when, his other duties over. Dik stood a lonely mourner while one of his human comrade; was hastily lowered to a quickly-dug grave. Once, with his head stretched upon such a grave, a surgeon had found Dik, with his eyes full of sorrow. That was after they had buried " the little major/ who always shared his chocolate with Dik. It was on a day when Dik leapt haltingly on his rounds among the wounded that he again met Fidele, his mother, and it was on the evening of that day, too. that the Man in Khaki found him. Dik went now on three legs. His fourth had been tenderly bandaged by his friend, the Red Cross doctor, after it was hit by a bit of shell. He was getting on nicely when he met Fidele, after the mysterious reparation, but still he did not trust his injured foot to the ground. Beside one of the trenches in a sitting posture Dik noticed a man, the mere sight of whom made him grind his teeth together in a ferocious growl, for the man wore a uniform which Dik, from his earliest training, had been taught to hate. Back in the days of the training school had not men dressed in grey been unkind to him, speaking to him always in surly tones, denying him food and water, snatching it awav, even when it was seemingly placed near for him to take ? And had not always the men who wore blue with red stripes been gentle and tender toward him ? He could not know that all this was a part of the lessons, and that the men dressed in grey were " dummy " assistants to the instructor, and that all were bent upon teaching him to follow the Belgians and shun the Germans. This man wore a helmet, too, and Dik had been taught to avoid helmets. Had he not been shown how they seemed suddenly to pop off the head and gave innocent dogs vicious digs in the ribs ? And it was by the side of this helmeted, grey-clad enemy that Fidele stood, while the man rummaged the pockets of her blanket, washing his wounded knee with something Fidele had brought in a bottle, then bandaging it carefully with long strips of cloth from Fidele's pocket. Fidele was not afraid of this man Indeed, when the grey-coated one had bandaged his knee, he patted Fidele on the head and said some gentle words to her in a language which Dik had supposed never could be kind. Had not his training included even a fear of the guttural tones of those who wore the grey ? How had Fidele and lie come to be enemies, serving in opposing armies ? Did Fidele know him for her son, her rlever " Bomb-proof Dik " ? She made no sign, but, having rendered her first-aid, she scampered away to search for other wounded men in grey. Swiftly on his rounds went Dik, over the waste and barrenness of wood and field. Night came, and the moon shone coldly down upon the scattered dead. Dik stood before what seemed to be a great black barricade thrown across his path. He was about to leap over it, when he found it was a horse. It was dead, but its body was warm, and Dik had been taught that a warm body meant life. He had also been taught to love horses and never to fear them, and so, by the side of this quiet comrade, who gave no welcoming neigh, Dik rested and pondered, holding up his bandaged paw. Then lie saw the Man in Khaki standing near, holding a smoking revolver in bis hand, and looking tenderly at the dead charger. And Dik understood, for, being a Dog of Battle, lie knew that in love, as well as in hate, men must sometimes kill. The Man in Khaki bared his head, as though to go through a solemn rite. Dik went close to him, and together they sent up to Heaven their prayer : And for those also, Lord, the humble beasts who, with us, bray the burden and the heat of the day, and ojjer up their guileless lives for the well-being of their countries, we supplicate Thy great tenderness of heart. For Thou hast promised to save both man and beast, and great is Thy loving kindness. Lord, have mercy / *''" '"!'"' Russian Liturgy. In the prayers of the Churches ot otucr nations our fellow •.ititurc haye been forgotten, uur ,e "ow THIS STORY IS SOLD BY TIk® A«A®ire" Belgians* Fnnm4. To help Destitute Belgian Children. Proceeds distributed try the 'itt'e Prircess Marie Jose of Belgium Patrons ; Her Grace the Duchess of Newcastle. The Right Hon. the Earl of Meath, P.C., K.P. The Right Hon. the Earl of Lytton. The Hon. Harry Lawson, M.P. M. Alfred Lemonnier (Edito> " Independance Beige "). Offices (kindly lent for the purpose)— Canada's Grand Trunk Railway System 19. Pockspur Str^t, London S W. Elizabeth Banks, Organiser and Hon. Secretary. Printed by GEOfiRArin \ Ltd , 55 Fleet Street, Lomion. E.C.