Sergeant Bill: WWI War Goat and Hero
In remembrance of the ending of WWI, November 11, 1918
Reading Time: 5 minutes
If you visit the Broadview Museum in Broadview, Saskatchewan, you’ll likely see a unique piece of Canadian military history: a stuffed goat. But this isn’t just any old goat. This is Sergeant Bill, a World War I hero whose legacy was so beloved that he now resides in a museum.
Sergeant Bill had an extraordinarily distinguished tour of duty. By the end of his military career, Bill was awarded the 1914 Star, the General Service Medal, and the Victory Medal. This is no small feat for a human soldier; but for a caprine, it’s unheard of. Bill’s career started in 1914 as the pet of a young woman named Daisey, who’d trained him to pull a cart. World War I was raging in Europe; and across the Atlantic, thousands of Canadian troops prepared to enter the fight.
The men of the Fifth Canadian Battalion were waiting for a train to take them to basic training camp when Daisey walked by with her goat. “So these soldiers, they’re bored. They’re killing time,” noted history Gary Dennis in the TV series Mysteries at the Museum. “And along comes this girl with a goat. That’s not something you see every day. So they started asking questions about the goat.” Daisey tells the men her goat’s name is Bill. One of the soldiers joked that Bill would make a perfect good-luck charm for the Fighting Fifth Battalion. To their surprise, Daisey — who came from a patriotic farming family and wanted to help any way she could — agreed to give the men her animal. “The soldiers promised that they would return Bill, but she doubted that she would ever see her goat again,” said Dennis.
And so began one of the most extraordinary collaborations between man and goat ever recorded. Needless to say, bringing along a good-sized goat — by now christened Private Bill — to training camp was not the norm, even by the standards of World War I. But Bill trained with the rest of the soldiers. While having a goat in training camp was one thing, it was another when it came time for the soldiers to ship out to England. No goats allowed! However, Private Bill was smuggled on board and on his way to fight in Europe.
The Fifth Battalion was sent to the front lines in France, and again, Private Bill was forbidden from going. Mascots are fine under training conditions, but in war zones? No.
The wily soldiers, however, were determined to keep Bill with them. So they purchased a huge wooden crate of oranges, sold or ate the fruit, and put Bill inside. Yep, Bill was on his way to war. Rather surprisingly (to his military superiors), the caprine did well. He endured bad food, noise, mud, vermin, and constant danger with the élan of an overconfident buck. Crucially, he provided a bit of humanity, a boost in morale, psychological comfort, and a reminder of home to soldiers during a bitterly inhumane time.
The Battalion’s colonel wasn’t overly fond of Bill, however. When the goat was caught munching on a stash of documents, the irate colonel declared Bill guilty of treason and had him arrested and jailed for being a spy. Oddly, it wasn’t until the colonel noticed how fast the morale of his soldiers plummeted in the absence of Bill — more quarrels, more boredom — that he understood the beneficial psychological role Bill played. The goat was released.
His second disciplinary action occurred when one sergeant did something Bill didn’t like and then made the mistake of turning his back on the buck. Any caprine owner knows what happened next. For that, Bill was court-martialed — again.
Bill’s military career accelerated when he proved devoted to his men. At the Battle of Ypres, he literally captured three German soldiers who were unwilling to navigate past Bill’s formidable horns.
He didn’t escape entirely unscathed through the war. He suffered from “trench foot” (or hoof rot, a condition caused by prolonged exposure to moisture), sustained shrapnel injuries, was gassed, and experienced shell shock.
But his bravery didn’t abate. His greatest feat came during the heart of the conflict in France. German artillery was notoriously fierce, with massive explosions everywhere. Yet Bill stuck by his men and ended up becoming a hero.
His moment came in May, when three soldiers of his battalion were standing on an exposed bit of ground. All of a sudden, with no provocation, Bill charged at them and head-butted them into a trench. Seconds later, a shell exploded right where the men had been standing. The goat had unquestioningly saved the lives of those three men.
But how did he know the men were in danger? As it turns out, the animal’s superior hearing detected the sound of the incoming shell and spurred him into action. Bill sustained minor cuts but was otherwise unharmed, and the men were alive to tell the tale. For this display of conspicuous bravery and heroism, the men promoted Bill to the rank of sergeant.
After the fighting was over, Bill was part of a large parade in Germany, proudly wearing a fancy blue coat with his sergeant stripes. Additionally, he was bestowed with the Mons Star for his service to the British Empire. “This is the kind of medal given to a soldier for extreme acts of valor and bravery,” noted Gary Dennis. “But it was given to a goat.”
It wasn’t easy getting Bill back home after the war, but as before, the Fighting 5th refused to leave him behind. After years of serving with his men — not all of whom survived — Bill finally went home to Broadview in April of 1919. After all, the soldiers had a promise to keep: To return Bill to his owner. He was slightly scarred and had “5th” (for Fifth Battalion) inscribed on one of his horns, but he was a decorated war hero and could live out the rest of his days peacefully grazing.
When he passed away, the soldiers of the Fifth Battalion had Bill stuffed and dressed in his wartime regalia. Today, he’s permanently displayed in the Broadview Historical Museum in Saskatchewan. The legacy of Sergeant Bill lives on as a provider of morale and spirit during the very dark days of a global conflict. As an animal, he provided a bit of humanity during an inhumane time. He’s also said to have taken life — and war — by the horns.
A special thank you to Elaine Wyatt of the Broadview Historical Museum for taking the time to send pictures and information.
PATRICE LEWIS is a wife, mother, homesteader, homeschooler, author, blogger, columnist, and speaker. An advocate of simple living and selfsufficiency, she has practiced and written about self-reliance and preparedness for almost 30 years. She is experienced in homestead animal husbandry and small-scale dairy production, food preservation and canning, country relocation, home-based businesses, homeschooling, personal money management, and food selfsufficiency. Follow her website www.PatriceLewis. com/ or blog www.Rural-Revolution.com/.
Originally published in the 2024 Fall issue of Goat Journal and regularly vetted for accuracy.
