The Mercy Run

The military accredits the dogs for saving at least ten thousand lives. For perspective, picture the Vietnam Memorial Wall, with its some fifty eight thousand names etched in nearly five feet of marble, standing ten feet high at its peak. Now imagine an additional ten thousand names. Dogs did what technolog g could not. In addition to sniffing out danger and weapon stashes, they doubled as trackers and sentry guards,

and aided soldiers in taking down armed men. Dogs even smelled enemy soldiers breath through reeds as they lay in wait beneath river waters. The canines endured the heat and enemy fire, but not for fame or money. They worked for the love and praise of their handlers. Most of the dogs bonded so tightly with the soldiers that they often stayed by their fallen bodies, to their own detriment.

Military canines were so good at their jobs that they became targets Enemy forces earned rewards for a handler's service patch or a dog's tattooed ear. About three hundred and fifty canines and two hundred and sixty handlers were killed in action. A countless more were injured. In the morning of December four of nineteen sixty six, twenty two year old airmen Bob Thronberg smiled at Nemo, his German shepherd.

You're a good boy, Throneberg told him. At home, families prepared for the holidays, unaware that the base Throneberg and others were stationed at had been under assault from a barrage of mortar fire. Throneberg and Nemo set out on patrol among the chaos of medics and soldiers, searching for the injured in piles of rubble. The thick heat was nearly unbearable for man and beast. Nemo trotted off ahead for several yards when he detected an armed man ahead

of him, a Throneberg shot the enemy soldier. At three am, Nemo detected another Vietnamese guerrilla, and Throneberg sent Nemo after him. A gunfire erupted, hitting both Nemo and Throneberg. Though hurt, Nemo continued to fight while Throneberg called for backup. Thronberg managed to shoot the second guerrilla before collapsing, and Nemo returned to him. He whined as he lay across him, protecting him until backup arrived. Good boy, Thronberg said. When

help arrived, Nemo cried as medics took Thronberg away. Both received medical treatment. Later, the two were reunited at the base hospital. It was a brief reunion. The Throneberg was airlifted to Japan for further treatment. He never saw Nemo again. Throneberg recovered. He received the Purple Heart and the Bronze Star, though he credited Nemo as the hero. That day, he and Nemo had taken out two enemies soldiers. All told,

Canine forces took out a dozen guerrillas that night. Nemo also recovered from his wounds, though he lost an eye. He was five years old when the military retired him. He received no medals, no awards. However, Nemo did receive something much rarer for canine soldiers. He was returned to the Department of Defense Dog Center, where he lived to be eleven. Others were not as fortunate. When the US left Vietnam, handlers wanted to bring their dogs home, most

were denied. The military euthanized some dogs and abandoned others. Only two hundred of over four thousand canines returned home. In the year two thousand, President Clinton signed Robbie's Law, named after a brave canine that, like other dogs, fought in wars that were not theirs. But with this law, the military could no longer consider dogs as equipment and euthanized them after their life of service. It also allowed

their handlers to adopt them. Nemo and Robbie were very good dogs who saved lives, but they weren't the only ones. I'm Lauren Vogelbaum. Welcome to American Shadows. Their lineage dates back thousands of years. Part of the Spitz family of dogs, the Siberian husky became an integral part of the chip Shee people's survival in the harsh Siberian landscape during the day the dogs pulled sleds. At night, they slept with

their families and kept them warm. Innuit people has also kept the dogs and took them when they migrated to the North americ An Arctic. Able to withstand temperatures most animals and other dogs cannot, the Siberian husky made survival possible. Still, the breed remained unknown for those in the American West until the Alaskan Gold Rush of eight sled dogs became essential, especially in remote Gnome, Alaska, just a hundred and sixty miles south of the Arctic Circle. Nome winters are cold,

dark and isolated. In October of that year, the last supplies arrived by boat. In November, ice prevented ships from approaching the port, leaving residents on their own. Neither horse nor mule could make the journey along the Ideental Rod Trail during the long winter months, Nome residents needed sled dogs to make the trip to larger towns for supplies. The dogs also helped pass the time. In the early nineteen hundreds, sled dog racing became a popular sport for

Alaskan colonists. Of The driver, also known as a musher, wrote a sled pulled by several dogs. The first All Alaska Sweepstakes race took place in nineteen o seven. By nineteen o nine, Norwegian born Leonard Seppola had made a name for himself in racing and breeding the best sled dogs. In nineteen ten, the winners at a course record was some of Seppola's smaller scrappy dogs, bred mostly of stock

from Siberia. Typically, a trip from Nana, Alaska, to Nome took thirty days, the fastest records set first sled team took nine and though airplanes replaced many sled dog teams in other Alaskan towns during the nineteen twenties, in Gnome, dogs were still a way of life for Indigenous and European people's alike, delivering mail supplies and traveling to shops

and businesses. When the snow came and I settled, the people of Nome were on their own until the spring thaw in nineteen twenty four was particularly cold and harsh, and gnomes only doctor Curtis Welsh was uneasy. It started when a boy came in with labored breathing and the sore. Though Welsh did everything possible, the boy died. The next day. Within days, other children arrived with the same symptoms. Soon, both young and old were coming down with the illness

Welsh dreaded diphtheria. The Welsh had stockpiled what he thought the town might need, but he couldn't plan for everything. The disease can be fatal if not treated. In time, bacteria settles in the lungs, where it produces toxins. Those toxins caused the death of respiratory tissue. As the dead tissue accumulates, the airway becomes clogged, making breathing difficult. Other complications involving the kidney and heart may also occur. Essentially,

diphtheria kills by poisoning and asphyxiation. Children were bounced at risk, generally killing one in ten affected. Today, we have a vaccine that has all but eliminated the illness. However, back in the nineteen twenties, the disease reached epidemic proportions. There was a cure, though, and anti talks and seram to create it. Horses were given increased levels of diphtheria toxins, to which they built up anti toxins. Then laboratories made

seram from the horse's blood. However, Nome didn't have laboratories or access to many horses, and though doctor Welch had some anti toxin on hand, it had expired with no immunity to the disease. Diphtherorius spread through the town like wildfire. Without fresh anti toxin, Doctor Welsh estimated a one fatality rate based on the cases so far. He called an

emergency meeting with Mayor George Maynard. The two quickly set up a quarantine as a temporary measure to slow down the spread of the disease while they put out a call for anti toxin. Fortunately, Anchorage had enough serum. Unfortunately, Anchorage was a thousand miles away. Time was running out for the people in Nome. The disease was highly contagious and death often occurred just days after infection. Welsh and Maynard needed to find a way to get the serum

and quickly. Glasgow's governor made it possible to transport the serum from Anchorage to Nanana by rail. The ice made delivering the serum the rest of the way by boat impossible. Planes had open cockpits and water cooled engines at the time, making the trip by air a suicide mission. The town survival came down to the sled dogs, but this time they wouldn't have thirty days or even nine to make

the trip. The call went out asking for help from every sled team along the idea rod trail from Nanana to Rome that have to set up relay teams between the two points to beat the clock. It wouldn't be easy. The teams would mostly be running in the dark. Daylight

during Arctic winters is scarce. In addition, the serum had to be kept from freezing, a near impossible feat considering it was January, and even if they managed to keep the serum stable, it had a shelf life of just six days, requiring the dogs to make the trip three days faster than the record run. They needed the best drivers and the fastest dogs. A ragtag group of natives and settlers signed up like their dogs. The men were healthy and fit, and all of them were young, except one,

forty two year old Leonard Seppola. Though he had the experience, his age put him past the prime for such a grueling undertaking. His lead dog, Togo, was also aging at twelve. The journey would likely kill him, but both man and dog had a vested steak in the matter. Seppola had a young daughter and a solid commitment to the town. Togo had an equally strong commitment to Seppola, a devotion had had since he was a puppy. Seppola had taken a little longer to commit to such a bond. Togo

had been born the only pup in the litter. His dark brown coat and piercing blue eyes might have stolen anyone else's heart, but Togo was small and initially unhealthy, and as far as Seppla was concerned, looks didn't get the job done, and he had little interest in the pup, so he gave Togo away, but Togo refused to belong to anyone else. He jumped through a window and, remarkably for such a young puppy, found his way home. Resigned to keeping Togo, Seppola put him in a pen when

he took the other dogs out to train. Togo had other ideas. He dug under or climbed over every pen, then raced off to find Seppola and the team, often causing havoc when he did. Too young to harness. Sepola did his best to keep Togo from escaping, but nothing worked. Finally, when Togo was eight months old and had managed to escape and find the team again, Sepola harnessed him up with the rest of the team. Got first day, Togo ran seventy five miles on break. Sepola continued moving Togo

closer to the front. By the end of the day, he had become the lead dog. In a short time, Seppola had the best lead dog had ever owned. Togo stamina, intelligence, and devotion to Seppola became legendary and known so With so many lives in the balance, Seppola had to choose twenty of his best dogs for the journey. He had a younger dog named Bolto, but felt the dog didn't have what it takes to make the treacherous journey had been assigned a Seppla lent Bolto to another musher to

make the best time. Each team was assigned at thirty miles stretch, all except Seppola and Togo. The two would have to make an incredible ninety one mile run over the trail's most hazardous terrain. They made their way to a cabin near the rendezvous point and waited as the train pulled into Nanana. The weather worsened, A blinding snowstorm formed,

and temperatures dropped to sixty degrees below zero fahrenheit. While every driver knew they needed to be fast, they also knew that if they ran their dogs too fast, their lungs would frost and the dogs would dive exposure. Winds howled, and the snow came down hard. Bill Shannon and his team pulled away from the train station. The Great Mercy Run had begun. Shannon ended up taking on fifty two miles of the run in the worst of the weather.

He arrived at the transfer point and suffering from hypothermia, his face black with frost bite. Four of his dogs died. The temperature warmed slightly, though the next driver and team still encountered gale force winds and blinding snow, and drivers and dogs persisted handing off the seram to the next team. The driver who passed the seram to Seppola told him cases of diphtheria had risen and warned him that a

storm was headed his way. Seppola got his team ready and set out in temperatures of negative thirty degrees fahrenheit with a wind chill of negative eighty five. By the time they stopped for rest at a roadhouse, Togo had led the team eighty four miles. The dogs were exhausted, and they settled in for some rest. The winds kicked up outside, reminding Seppola they couldn't rest for long. M With just six hours of sleep, they set out again, the storm raging around them. Seppela had a choice to make.

If he took a short cut, he'd save forty two miles, but that short cut would take him and the team across the sound. In the past, other teams had risked the ice and poor weather, only to find themselves stranded on the ice floating out to sea, and on a previous journey, the unthinkable had happened to them. When Seppola and the team had found themselves stranded on the ice, he had unharnessed Togo and tossed him onto a larger block,

Hoping Togo understood what he needed him to do. Pulled Togo, pull, and Togo had the ice Seppola and the team were stranded on drew close enough to drive the team across. Now, Seppola had a decision and take the long way and save himself and the team, but risked the Sarah expiring or risk their lives. Seppola looked at the team and met with Togo's ice blue eyes. They've done it before, they'd do it again. Togo and the team took off

across the ice, sliding and skittering. They were now in a race for their lives, though they didn't know it, the storm had started to break up the ice on the Norton Sound. By the time Seppla heard the ice cracking around them, they couldn't turn around. He urged Togo to keep running, to keep moving the team forward so they wouldn't panic, and Togo instinctively steered them away from

the danger and led the team to shore. Once they were safely away from ice and firmly back on land, they found an inuit iglu, where Seppla fed the team and slept. The shortcut had saved them an entire day. They rested a few hours and set out again. Houses and rest stops dotted the snow drifts along the way. A telegram had been sent to tell the drivers to stop at them frequently to rest and get warm, but

Seppola never received the messages. He and Togo pushed on toward a ridge line across the north summit of what's now called Anali Mountain. Seppola and Togo had experience on such trails, which was why they had been selected to cross the mountain, but they'd never done it in weather like this. There were no trees to block the wind, the way up and down was steep, and the ridge was narrow. If they lost their footing, they'd perish. There were touch and go moments on their descent when the

team slid down the mountain. Seppola relied on Togo to keep the team from danger or going too fast. By the time they made it to the rendezvous point, the team was exhausted and twelve year old Togo had given it everything he had left. Seppola handed off the serum to the next driver, Charlie Olson. On February one, after his run, Olsen handed off the serum to gunner Casson, who had put Bolto on his team. Casson and Balto

faced near whiteout conditions. Balto helped keep the team on course until an eighty mile an hour wind toppled the sled, throwing Cassin, the dogs and the serum into the snow. Casson removed his gloves and frantically searched for the fur wrapped package with his bare hands. He found him right at the sled and pushed on to the next meeting point, where the last team would take the serum into town. Except they weren't there. There's controversy at this point in

the history. Some say Casson wanted to be the one to bring the serum into Gnome. Others say that with the clock ticking and the storm raging, he couldn't afford to wait. Either way, Casson pushed on, making it to Gnome on February second. A hero's welcome greeted him and the team. Casson, exhausted and relieved, handed the serum to doctor Welch. He staggered to the front of the team, hugged Bolto, and collapsed. Welsh administered the serum to the sick.

No more cases were reported, and the town was saved. Welsh had enough to treat everyone who needed help, with just two doses to spare. The drivers and their teams returned home again to rest and recover. The Great Mercy Run was over. They had beaten the odds. A hundred and fifty sled dogs made the run. They traveled six hundred and seventy four miles in five and a half days, shattering the old record of nine A few of the dogs died giving their lives to save human life, and

Togo was not one of them. After a much deserved rest, he and Seppla returned home. The Great Mercy Run had captivated the country during those five and a half days. People everywhere anxiously awaited reports on the dog's journey, and newspapers splashed updates on the front page. Radio stations gave

them by the hour. Americans were on the edge of their seats when the New York Times reported that a major blizzard struck as the dogs approached Nome, and celebrations erupted when the seram made it and the town was saved. President Calvin Coolidge presented every musher with the letter of recognition, and even the Senate took notice, and stopping their work long enough to honor the men and their dogs who had braved horrender its conditions to save the lives of

thousands of people. People couldn't get enough of the story, and though twenty men and a hundred and fifty dogs had participated, one stood out above all others. Balto, Gunnar Casson and Balto had been the ones to arrive in Nome with the serum. A. Seppeler knew the team that made the trip into town would be the most celebrated. He didn't care so much for himself, but he did for Togo. A Balto was a great dog. All the dogs were, but it had been twelve year old Togo

who had taken on the roughest, most dangerous terrain. A six year old Bolto ran an incredible fifty three miles at twice his age. Togo had traveled two hundred and sixty one miles, over a third of the six hundred and seventy four our mile run. It had been Togo that traveled the ridgeline and across the ice, and Seppola's decision to go across the sound saved an entire day.

Had he chosen the initial path, that Sarah would have expired. Books, movies, magazines, and papers wanted to hear Balto's story, though Balto symbolized the race he and Casson towards the States. Balto was president at the unveiling of his statue in New York Central Park, but after a while Casson grew homesick, Balto and the other dogs weren't with him when he finally

returned to Alaska. It's unclear why the poor Balto and the team were shipped across the country as part of the vaudeville circuit, until George Kimball, who was organizing a children's campaign, came across the heroic canine at a side show. Balto and the other dogs had been chained living in deplorable conditions, and Kimball rescued the dogs and found them

a permanent home at the Cleveland Zoo. Balto lived the rest of his life there until he died in nineteen thirty three, and Togo and Seppola toured for a while as well. They even went back to sled racing in Maine and easily bested the local dogs, but Togo was growing older and Seppola retired him, Agreeing to a breeding program in Maine. Togo sired many litters, Seppola reached his dream of the perfect sled dog separate from Siberian huskies.

Togo's line became a separate breed, the Seppola Siberian. Seppela returned to Alaska, but continued to visit his beloved dog. Togo passed away a few years later, at the age of sixteen. He died having lived his retirement and comfort well cared for and deeply loved. Leonard Seppela died in nineteen sixty seven at the age of eighty nine. Zeppola said he had never had a dog with more intelligence, courage, stamina, or loyalty than Togo, but his story and heroism faded

from history. Decades later, historians uncovered the story and helped shine a light on Togo as the true hero. In twenty nineteen, a Sepalss Siberian named Diesel portrayed Togo in Disney's adaptation of The Seram Run. As it turns out, Diesel was an easy choice for the studio. He not only resembled Togo, but he was also his great grandson fourteen generations back. There's more to this story. Stick around after this brief sponsor break to hear all about it.

Working dogs are a relatively common sight, either trained as police dogs or to aid people with disabilities or illnesses. Dogs truly have become human kind's best friend, and in September of two thousand one, America became familiar with two other types of working dogs, search and rescue and SIR and recovery. After the attack on the Twin Towers on September eleven, three hundred dogs and their handlers converged on

Ground zero. Search and rescue dogs have been used for decades, from locating people lost in snowstorms and the wilderness, to national disasters like Hurricane Katrina and incidents like the Oklahoma City bombing. Still few Americans knew the scope of what it meant to be a dog or handler for search and rescue. But at Ground Zero, people glued to their

televisions had never seen anything like it. After the horror of watching the building's collapse, people falling from buildings and runnings so covered through the streets, others ran toward the buildings, and in the aftermath, rescue workers continued to shift through the rubble in the hopes of finding human life. Dogs climbed over concrete, glass and unstable debris to detect life below. Twenty seven hours after the buildings had collapsed, a rescue

dog found the last survivor days lay there. The search and rescue teams made way for dogs trained in search and recovery The search proved difficult for the cadaver dogs, as it turns out, finding body after body is psychologically taxing for them too. To combat the dog's depression, handlers created mock fines so the dogs found some living people. Denise Corliss was one of those handlers. Corliss, volunteer firefighter with the Sci Faire Fire Department in Texas, arrived with

two year old Brittany, a Golden Retriever. Corliss had been training with Brittany since the pup was just eight months old. The pair had completed female Certification. Nine eleven was Brittany's first assignment. While Brittany took her job seriously sniffing through and climbing over rubble for twelve hours a day for nearly two solid weeks, she had a softer side too. Of finding so many bodies took its toll on the rescue workers, and Brittany also discouraged sought out firefighters who

just needed a hug and a wet nose. Soon, rescue workers sought out Brittany for one of her famous golden smiles and a quick hug. The firefighters began to share stories with Corless in the debris were missing. Friends and co workers of Brittany not only served as a recovery dog, but she had also become a therapy dog. After not eleven, Corless and Brittany went on to other assignments. Hurricanes Rita, Ivan and Katrina of Brittany did precisely what she had

been trained to do, despite the dangers. Once Brittany found herself standing precariously on a dangling staircase, injury and death are real possibilities for the dogs. A Corless admitted to a reporter that she held her breadth on many occasions while Brittany worked. Life as a search and rescue or search and recovery dog is hard and demanded. Brittany retired at age nine, though she remained active. She visited the scy Fair Firehouse regularly, where she continued to bring her

golden smile and warm to the firefighters. She made television appearances, and she enjoyed going to elementary schools, where she listened patiently and without judgment as children practiced their reading skills with her. But, as anyone with the dog knows all too well, their lives are too short. And when Brittany's kidneys failed and nothing more could be done. Corlis honored her beloved dog with dignity, choosing to be with her

when the veterinarian euthanized her. Oh. When word got out about nine eleven's last surviving search and recovery dog, firefighters and first responders lined up outside the clinic, They stood at attention and saluted Brittany as Corlis led her inside. Tired and in pain, Brittany managed to wag her tail. Then they waited. When Corliss reappeared with Brittany's body draped with an American flag, they saluted her one final time.

Heroic dogs are indeed special, but dog love is also know that nineteenth century humorist Josh Billings had it right when he said, a dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself. American Shadows is hosted by Lauren Vogelbaum. This episode was written by Michelle Muto, researched by Ali Steed, and produced by Miranda Hawkins and Trevor Young, with executive producers Aaron Mankey, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. To learn more about the show,

visit Grim and Mild dot com. From more podcasts from iHeart Radio. Visit the iHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.