February 5, 1918 - Uncertainty about the war, and a dog story

     Don Martin noted with emphasis in his diary the sinking of the American transport ship, Tuscania.

Don Martin diary entry for Tuesday, February 5, 1918: 
American transport Tuscania torpedoed – This is first one.

Went to office about 12:30. Ordered a suit of clothes and an overcoat. Saw Colonel Buchan at 5. He says England will carry out a reprisal system against the Germans. It is about time. Went to see “Nothing but the Truth” at the opening – Savoy Theatre. Is an American farce. I saw Millie Collier in it at home. Went to the office later. Visited with Charlie Wheeler till 1 a.m. Am getting very few letters. 

Ordered a suit of clothes and an overcoat, both loud. [In ant] everyone [but] now they are English and everyone certainly will.

Weather warm but nasty.

     Don Martin wrote a letter to Dorothy that night, with commentary on the uncertainty about how the war would proceed.

Dorothy,

... the war is pretty serious business yet and that there is no chance of the Allies winning anything like a crushing military victory this year. Neither can the Germans defeat the Allies although they intend to make a great attempt to drive through the line to Calais which would give them an opening on the English Channel. They probably can’t do it. The thing or things which will probably end or very greatly hasten the end of the war will be economic troubles. England is facing a very serious labor situation and the food problem is getting serious too. No one in England now can order what he wants. He must take what he can get – what the government has decided he must have. Germany is worse off than England but the people there have no spirit of rebellion – yet – as the British have and there is just a possibility that the English may face a condition which will compel them to negotiate a peace. The submarine is the big factor. It is vastly more of a menace than the world knows, and it is not overcome or growing less. Without the submarine to combat the Allies could win the war without any doubt, but until the submarine is overcome there is doubt about the outcome. Everyone is pessimistic here.

The optimism of U.S. is not paralleled here. The original purpose to sweep out the Hohenzollerns has been abandoned. It probably can’t be done. The trouble is the Allies are fighting against a nation which knows no scruples. It is really and truly a struggle between chivalry (Christianity) and barbarism. 

    Don Martin wrote on February 5 another dispatch about a dog in the war, which was published in the New York Herald on Wednesday, February 20.

Dog Mourns as Career as Flyer Comes to an End

[Special to the Herald]

Herald Bureau, No. 130 Fleet Street, London, Feb. 5

     When Maurice Hewlett, of Great Britain, son of the noted novelist, was a commander in active service for the Royal Flying Corps his inseparable companion was a Scotch terrier. Perhaps it might be said that the dog was his first assistant. Mr. Hewlett, now a staff officer, has a brilliant record. He says his dog deserves as much credit as himself. 

      I saw the dog—Jim—to-day curled up in a corner of the Inner Temple. The modern benchers of that historic neighborhood say he is heart broken because his career as a “mechanician” is ended. He has been a changed dog ever since he ceased to be an habitué of the hangars and airplanes and became a quiet resident of the city.

     If half the stories told of the dog are true he deserves a prominent niche in the Dogs’ Hall of Fame, as he no doubt will get some day. Mr. Hewlett scarcely ever made an ascent without Jim beside him. And his aeroplane never left the ground until Jim had conducted an inspection tour.

    Just where he learned all about machinery, batteries, propellers and the other intricate parts of the winged craft no one pretends to know, and while Jim can almost talk, he has never enlightened his master with regard to his uncanny knowledge of things about which dogs are supposed to be entirely ignorant. 

     To start with, a suggestion of uncleanliness about the Hewlett airplanes disgusted Jim. He would not rest till everything was made immaculate. If there was anything wrong with the mechanism Jim would bark and jump about till the defect or imperfection was remedied. When he was satisfied that everything was in shipshape he would hop into the machine, snuggle down and sleep till the flight was over unless something went wrong in the air. In that event he would rouse himself and make known in unmistakable ways that things were not as they should be. Usually the flier had made the discovery first, but that doesn’t in any way distract from the importance or value of Jim’s intuition.

     He flew across the Channel a hundred times. When he was quiet his master knew that everything was all right.

     He was the idol of all the flyers. If the machine went away without him it was a tragedy in his young life, but this seldom happened. When he found himself alone at the squadron base he sat down and waited, whether it was an hour or a day. He would never enter a machine unless his master was at the rudder, and he never volunteered his remarkable services to any of his master’s colleagues.

   Now he is a retired dog.

    To see him slouching around the Inner Temple, making friends with just ordinary members of his own branch of the family, you would hardly suspect that he is a genius with a history.

   “Genius is found where genius is least looked for, least expected,” says the London constable in the Temple. And at that, Jim seems to wag his tail in approval.