A Dog Named Cambro

Back in early 1955, not long after I arrived in Northern Italy with the USAF, accompanied by a colleague, I was driving my car around the city of Udine, near our base at Campoformido. We drove around a block in central Udine, and I noticed a small dog that appeared to be chasing my car. To make sure, I drove around the block a couple more times. Sure enough, the small dog continued to follow our car for some reason. Neither I nor my colleague had seen the dog before. The third time around the block, an elderly, courtly-looking Italian gentleman with a great coat, a walking cane and golfer-style cap was out on the street walking a German shepherd on a leash. He flagged us down and rebuked us for “treating our dog that way” and demanded that we put the dog in our car. Since we had only recently arrived in Italy, neither of us spoke enough Italian to explain to the gentleman that we had never seen the dog before, I opened my car door and the dog hopped in the back seat.

At first, I thought we’d drive to a different part of town, out of sight of the old dog lover, and let the dog out. However, we found the dog so “simpatico” that we decided to take him back to our base. The dog was a small brown dog, probably of the Italian “volpino” breed. In Italian, the word “volpino” means “little fox.” The dog stayed around our camp and soon he was given the name, “Cambro.” I have no idea how that name evolved.

It would not be correct to say that the entire base “adopted” Cambro; it would be more correct to say that Cambro adopted the entire base as his owner. Cambro was much like one of us. He was always the first in the “chow line” at the mess hall at meal time, and the cooks always had a dish prepared for him.

Burglaries had been a problem at some of our outlying radar and communication sites, and some Army personnel liked to keep Cambro at their site. Cambro had strong security instincts and always barked when any stranger approached that site, or any site where he happened to be. He quickly got to know all five hundred men at our base, and barked vigorously at anyone who did not belong there. I later learned that the volpino breed of dog has strong security instincts, and thus Cambro proved not only a good companion, good for the morale of all the troops, but a good security dog.

Cambro stayed at our camp for a couple of years, and perhaps in response to his security instincts, or perhaps looking for a former owner, started going out to the nearby, busy highway to chase cars. Soon, our hearts were saddened, for Cambro was run over and killed. I’m sure that all the troops of Campoformido who had known Cambro will remember him. The small volpino reinforced my theory that animals sometimes make the choice in which humans they adopt as their friends. We were fortunate that Cambro chose us.