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The Rat and the Deserter

"What are you doing, Corporal?"

"Sir?"

"I’m your new Company Commander, Corporal, and I asked what are you doing?"

"I er, I don’t understand, Sir."

"You don’t understand. Well it’s quite a simple question, Corporal – I decide to arrive in the company line unannounced, want to see what I’ve inherited without any fanfares. And within a short distance, I find you in a sap, all alone except for a damn dog. Whilst, judging by those smells and the sound of laughter not too far away, your comrades are enjoying a meal. So, I’ll ask you for the last time, Corporal, what are you doing here, and why is that mongrel in the company lines?"

"Oh, Fuchsl’s not a mongrel, Sir. He’s a soldier, as good as any in the army, Sir."

"A soldier, Corporal? Are you trying to make fun of me?

"No, Sir, never, Sir."

"Alright, Corporal, I’ll try another tack. What’s your job in my new company?"

"I’m a despatch runner, Sir."

"Do you normally spend time apart from your comrades when in the line?"

"Mostly, Sir, I prefer my own company, and Fuchsl’s."

"Right, Corporal, we’ve established that you’re not a dog handler; not that the army would employ a white terrier, not tall enough to reach my knee. So who gave you permission to keep a pet, especially in the line?"

"He’s not really a pet either, Sir. He’s a deserter."

"Talk fast, Corporal, my patience is wearing thin."

"Yes, Sir. You see, Sir, when we were in action in another part of the line a couple of weeks ago, and I was running with an important despatch, I dodged into sap to avoid a shell and a rat came running full pelt over the top of the trench, from no-man’s land, quickly followed by a white blur. The white blur was Fuchsl, Sir, and he was on the rat in a flash, broke its back in his mouth, dropped it to the ground and then stood looking up at me as proud as anything. And he’s followed me everywhere, ever since, Sir."

"Well, Corporal, it seems your little friend has at least seen some action, but why call him a deserter?"

"The enemy lines were close by, and he was wearing an enemy tag on his collar, Sir. Of course, I threw that away, Sir, and named him Fuchsl, little fox."

"So you adopted each other, Corporal. But is he as good a soldier as you say he is, is he worth his ration?"

"He shares my rations, Sir, but just you watch this – when I throw this scrap of food to the bottom of the trench, just you watch him go, Sir!"

"Good grief, Corporal, he’s killed three rats in as many seconds. You’re right; he’s a marvel. He is a good soldier – those rats are as big an enemy as those bastards over there are."

"Yes, Sir! I call him my storm trooper – I like the way he waits until the rats appear, as if he knows the food will bring them out, but even then he doesn’t go for them until I say so, Sir. It’s a pity we can’t form an army of storm troopers just like Fuchsl, Sir?"

"I’ll make sure he’s put on the company strength, Corporal, so you can draw rations for him in his own right. Carry on, Corporal, I’m impressed."

"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir."

"Oh by the way, Corporal, I forgot to ask your name – who do I call for when I need a despatch running, I can hardly shout Dog-Man, can I now?

"No, Sir. My name’s Hitler, Sir – Adolf Hitler."