The Small Dog With a Big Personality Read Free

hearing being so much more acute than a human’s, the advance warning saved lives in an ambush situation. Soon Rats’s reputation as a lucky mascot spread and he was in demand by almost all brick commanders. Some saw a dog as a liability rather than an asset to a patrol, but one good experience with the dog was enough to convince them of Rats’s loyalty.
    Regiments came and went in Crossmaglen. Faces changed with the arrival and departure of the ever-present helicopters that flew from dawn to dusk between six locations. Company commanders came over from the mainland four or five days ahead of their men. They had probably spent three or four months familiarizing themselves with the terrain and the problems they would face on arrival. Section commanders would be in position a week before the start of theirtour and finally the men of the three platoons that would form each company on duty arrived on site. The airlifting and dropping of the men was well rehearsed for security and accuracy: the helicopter dropped eight men in and lifted eight men out and repeated this until the operation was complete. As the men of 42 Commando Royal Marines departed in October 1978 they handed over to 2 Company, 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards, and brick commander Sergeant Kevin Kinton was one of two non-commissioned officers (NCOs) in the advance party. He was heading in for his first tour of Northern Ireland.
    Like most soldiers arriving for the first time, the view of Crossmaglen from the relative safety of the helicopter made him wonder how it could be the same place his colleagues had described as a ‘hell on earth’. It looked so peaceful, not a soul on the streets and no sign of the dangers he had been preparing for. As his helicopter descended towards the helipad Kinton saw two Marines waiting to take their places on the ride out and two dogs waiting patiently in the shadow of the rotor blades. One was a large black Labrador, who was laterintroduced as Fleabus, and the other a small, scruffy brown mongrel with perky ears and what looked like a grin on his face. Neither dog moved as Kinton landed and ran from the helicopter.
    Following his orders he dumped his kit on his bunk, collected boots, flak jacket and battle kit from stores and made ready for duty. He left the base through the huge metal gates and took his first ground-level look at Crossmaglen. It looked less like the cosy village he had seen from the air. But that first night seemed quiet on the streets as the soldiers set up vehicle checkpoints – always a necessary security measure while the Army was carrying out a transfer of kit and building supplies, known as an Op Tonnage, from Belfast. The town was closed down. It was the only way to ensure the safety of the Army vehicles on the road. That night, Kinton caught sight of the little brown dog he had seen earlier at the helipad. This time he was at the heels of a Marine. The sight of the man, never mind that he was in battle dress, with a dog at his side, seemed so normal. Kinton recalled: ‘I thought, how could death and danger be equated with such a familiar sight?’
    After two hours on duty Kinton could sleep for two before going back to his duties on the vehicle checkpoint. In the morning his company commander, Major Charles Woodrow QGM, requested Kinton report to the Marine brick commander he was to replace. The Marine knew there was only one way to explain the complexities and the dangers of patrolling the streets of Crossmaglen and that was to go out there. Two Marines and Grenadiers Sergeant Kinton and Sergeant Keith Regan, the medic, made up the brick that morning. And there was one addition: the brown dog who jogged jauntily at the commander’s feet.
    The Saracen armoured car, or Scarrycan, that Kinton had seen in position by a derelict house the night before had only just moved away as his patrol approached. It crossed his mind that the Opposition (Army speak for the IRA) had no time to enter the house after