The Dogs of War             

 May 17, 1947 was a good day for Irene Owczarzak, it was her 20th birthday and the day she married Edmund (Ed) Adamski.  In 1943, however, she wasn’t sure this day would ever come.  She and Ed were dating then when he joined the U.S. Marine Corps, and no one knew if she would ever see him again.
            “You had to go into the service and I thought the Marine Corps was the best fighting outfit in the country; so, I joined them, figuring that if you fight with the best you have a better chance of living through it,” Ed Adamski said explaining why he chose the Marines.
           After basic training, the Marine Corps asked for volunteers to join a new War Dog Program and Ed liked dogs, so he joined.  All the dogs were donated to the Marine Corps for the war effort and owners were told that after the war the dogs would be returned.  Ed was assigned to Big Boy, a Doberman pinscher that was donated from Chicago.  They first trained in South Carolina and later in California.  No one was exactly sure what to do with the dogs, so they made up their job as they went along.  All the dogs in his platoon were trained as scout dogs.
           On July 21, 1944 he and Big Boy were in the second wave of Marines invading the island of Guam.  His landing boat hit a coral reef several hundred yards short of the beach and opened its door.  The Marines wadded ashore in water up to Ed’s shoulders, Big Boy swam alongside.  As Ed was walking to the beach he stepped into a deep hole, the water rushed over his head and with the weight of the equipment he carried, he couldn’t move to get out.
            “A Marine must have seen me go down and grabbed my helmet, hauling me out of that hole,” Ed related, “I never knew who it was that saved my life; never.”
             On the beach, Ed jumped into a shell hole.  The beach was lined with Marines, most of them were dead.  Big Boy stayed alongside him the whole time.  “If Big Boy was afraid, he didn’t show it.  He had been trained around explosions and took the landing like he had been trained,” Ed said.
           Ed, on the other hand, knew enough to be afraid.  The first night he was stationed on a coral reef that jutted out into the ocean.  It was a good listening post to watch for the enemy trying to get around the Marines lines.  The Japanese Army knew how important this position was and began shelling it.
             All night long the shells crept up the length of the reef, closer to where he was dug in.  Inch by inch Adamski watched the mortar rounds obliterate everything they came near, as they marched closer to him.  The fear built up all night long.  Big Boy simply lay at his feet.  Finally the shells landed a mere five yards from him.  The next rounds would land on his head.
            “I heard two voices that night, one from above and one from below,” Ed said, “I had to choose good or evil that night.  I chose good and spent the rest of my life trying to live up to that promise.  I waited the rest of the night for that next shell to kill me; but they stopped shooting, just five yards short of me.”
           The second day Ed and Big Boy were assigned as point man and dog.  The point man was the first to come under enemy fire.  Because of the dogs training, their job was to find snipers in trees before the sniper could shoot them.  It was a cat and mouse game they would endure the entire campaign; it was what they were trained to do.  That night he and Big Boy were assigned to protect a machine gun.
            “Because of the dog’s keener senses, they would hear or smell the Japanese before they could sneak up on us,” Ed stated.  “So every night we would be at some outpost, every day in the point: we never had a chance to sleep.”  The second night he made his first rookie infantryman’s mistake.  “The enemy was cocking the bolts to their rifles trying to make us shoot, so they would know where we were dug in.  It worked on me and I shot at them.  It caused everyone on the line to open fire.  The Captain was sure mad.  It wasn’t until a few years ago, at a reunion, that I admitted to him that I was the one who shot that night.  He was still mad.”
           The fourth night, July 25th, again assigned to a machine gun position, Big Boy alerted.  The dog knew that the enemy was close.  A few minutes later the Japanese attacked in force, shouting “Banzi, Banzi.”   The Marines were able to stop the attack after hand-to-hand fighting.  The next night, July 26th, the Japanese attacked again, and fought their way through, to an American field hospital where they attacked and killed doctors and nurses before the Marines were able to repel the attack.
              Ed was injured and knocked unconscious when a hand grenade exploded near him.  He awoke in the field hospital that had been overrun.  There was little care provided to anyone that night; a Navy medic told him to help himself to some sleeping pills to alleviate the pain.  He stayed three days in the hospital but was told to go back to the front line, even though he still suffered from dysentery and malaria.  An officer pointed to a road and said to go help the Marines over there.  Ed didn’t know what happened to Big Boy.
           It wasn’t until August 10th that he was reunited with his dog platoon and Big Boy.  Another man in the platoon said they found Big Boy lying on the ground like he was waiting for his master, but no one knew what had happened to Ed.  Most of his platoon would take part in the upcoming invasion of Iwo Jima, but Ed and Big Boy remained on Guam searching for hold outs (estimated to be over 1000) for the rest of the war.  The actions by the dogs of war had proven invaluable, saving many Marines lives.  (Editors note: the last Japanese solider to surrender on Guam was on Jan. 24, 1972)
          After the war was over, Ed went to Big Boy’s owner, the Doberman having been returned to him, and asked if he could buy the dog.  The owner agreed, but Big Boy had developed heart worms and had to be put down.
Ed married his sweetheart, Irene; they raised five sons, 10 grandchildren and have two great-grandchildren.  Ed retired after working for the EJ&E Railroad for 42 years and has his memories.           
          “Like they say,” Ed stated, “I wouldn’t do it again for a million dollars, but wouldn’t trade it for anything.”                

JUST GO ALONG” and YOU COULD BE 102……

             “There is no secret to long life,” stated 102 year old Pauline (Reeves) Canada, “I just go along”.  That, in itself, may be her secret; by not trying to change the things she has no control over; this philosophy has contributed to her long life.
           Pauline was born April 2, 1908 in Anderson, Indiana, the daughter of a politician, Evert Reeves, who was the Madison County Republican Chairman. Her mother, Esse Reeves, warned her “not to lollygag on boys laps,” yet she vividly remembers her first kiss.
           Pauline’s eyes get brighter, a girlish smile crosses her lips, while she explains that at 13 she kissed Marshall Revis on the front porch.  Not the type to kiss and tell, and maybe because her daughter Phyllis Jones, and her 26 year old great-granddaughter, Emily Hoffman, were sitting on the couch with her, did she say if that first kiss led to any more.
           She did go into detail, however, about meeting the love of her life, Prentiss Augustus Canada, known as Gus. He was visiting a friend of hers when they met.  After a short conversation, Gus told Pauline that he did not like the man she was dating.  Gus then asked her to meet with him elsewhere to discuss the matter.  That conversation led to romance, love and their marriage in 1927, when she was 19 and he was 21.
           Gus owned a Nash auto dealership in Muncie, IN at the time and Pauline made the first of many moves come.  The great depression struck a few years later, and they, as well as many others, lost their business and home.  The family moved eleven times over the next several years, as Gus went from one car sales position to the next.
            Pauline cared for their two children, Phyllis and Jack, ensuring through those tumultuous times that wherever they lived it became a home. The family was able to settle down in Michigan City, IN, when Gus once again owned a dealership, this time selling Buicks.
           The Buick dealership failed after the onset of World War II, because new cars where not being manufactured due to the factories being used for the war effort.  With the dealership closed, the family moved to a farm in LaPorte County.  “He always wanted to be a farmer,” daughter Phyllis Jones said, “but after becoming one he learned that he didn’t want to be one.”  After the war Gus and Pauline sold the farm and bought an Oldsmobile dealership in Valparaiso, IN.  When he sold that business, they bought what would be their last home, in LaPorte, IN.
           Pauline and Gus went into semi-retirement, with her running the household, while he raised race horses to trout at county fairs. They went into full retirement a few years prior to Gus passing away in the mid-1970s.
           As matriarch of the family, Pauline lived in her La Porte home until she was 100 years of age. During her centennial year she slipped in the bathtub and was in a hospital for a week. It was agreed that assisted living would be best for her and she moved into the Oakwood Manor of LaPorte, where she still resides.
           This remarkable lady enjoys her days with the company of those around her and continues to guide and nurture her two children, six grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren and one great-great grandchild.
              But now that you know her secret of living, “you just go along,” maybe you could reach the beautiful age of 102 and keep on going.  

Look for more about the life and family of Pauline (Reeves) Canada in the upcoming Generations Special Edition; Generation to Generation coming this fall.