Somewhere on the outskirts of Pretoria, in the years before World War I tore Europe apart, a young chacma baboon wandered onto the Marr family farm in Villeria. He had been separated from his troop – orphaned, most likely – and was found by Albert Marr, a young South African who decided to take the animal in and raise him as part of the household. Albert named him Jackie, and the two became inseparable.

Chacma baboons are the largest species of monkey, formidable animals with powerful jaws and sharp canine teeth. In the wild, males are aggressive enough to face down leopards. They are emphatically not pet material. Yet Jackie proved to be an exception. Intelligent and remarkably trainable, he adapted to domestic life with ease, and over the course of several years, Albert moulded him into something resembling a well-mannered companion. Nobody at the time could have guessed where that bond would lead.

"Can I Bring My Baboon?"

In August 1915, Albert Marr volunteered to fight for South Africa in World War I. He was mobilised at Potchefstroom, allocated the rank of private, and assigned to the 3rd (Transvaal) Regiment of the 1st South African Infantry Brigade – a unit raised mainly from what was then the Transvaal and Rhodesia, earmarked for service in North Africa and France.

Albert had one condition: he would not be separated from Jackie.

It was an audacious request, but to everyone's surprise, his commanding officers agreed. Jackie was so well-behaved and so obviously intelligent that the men of the regiment quickly took to him. Within months, the baboon had been adopted as the unit's official mascot – and then something stranger happened. Jackie was formally enlisted. He received a military identity number, a pay book, a ration card, and a specially fitted uniform, complete with cap and buttons. He was, on paper at least, a private in the South African Army.

At the training camp in Potchefstroom, Jackie drilled alongside the men. He carried a small wooden rifle. He learned to salute officers with crisp precision. He ate his meals from regulation army plates using proper cutlery. He could stand at ease in textbook military fashion. He even learned to light the soldiers' cigarettes – a trick that made him enormously popular in the trenches.

Into the Desert and the Trenches

Jackie and Albert first saw combat during the Senussi Campaign in the Western Desert of Egypt. On 26 February 1916, at the Battle of Agagia, Albert was shot in the shoulder. Jackie, frantic with distress, stayed by his side, licking the wound and doing everything he could to comfort his injured companion until medics arrived. It was this moment, more than any other, that transformed Jackie in the eyes of the regiment. He was no longer just a mascot or a curiosity. He was a comrade.

As the war ground on, Albert and Jackie were deployed to the Western Front – to the mud, the gas, the artillery barrages, and the endless horror of trench warfare. Jackie proved to have genuine military utility. His keen eyesight and acute hearing made him invaluable on night sentry duty. He could detect enemy movements long before any human could, alerting Albert with sharp barks or by tugging at his tunic. In an environment where a few seconds of warning could mean the difference between life and death, Jackie's natural instincts were a genuine asset.

The pair endured some of the most savage fighting of the war. According to popular accounts, they survived the nightmare of Delville Wood – the notorious engagement during the Battle of the Somme where the 1st South African Infantry Brigade held its position despite suffering roughly 80% casualties. The South Africans who went in called it "Devil's Wood", and those who came out were never quite the same. Whether or not Jackie was present at Delville Wood itself – some historians have raised questions based on Albert's medical records which suggest the pair may have been recovering elsewhere at the time – there is no doubt that both man and baboon saw heavy fighting on the Western Front over the course of the war.

Wounded in Action

In April 1918, during the chaos of the German Spring Offensive, Jackie's luck ran out. While sheltering in the trenches during a heavy bombardment – reportedly trying to build a small protective wall of stones around himself – he was struck by shrapnel. The fragments tore into his right leg and arm, ending his active service in an instant.

Jackie was evacuated, and treated by the regiment's surgeons, who faced an unusual challenge: they had no idea how chloroform would affect a baboon. The surgery was risky, and his right leg was so badly damaged it had to be amputated. Against the odds, Jackie survived. He recovered slowly but completely – minus one leg – and was eventually promoted to the rank of corporal for his service and bravery.

Coming Home

From September 1918 until February 1919, Jackie and Albert were seconded to the Red Cross to help raise funds for sick and wounded soldiers. At public events, members of the public could shake Jackie's hand for a small donation, or – for the truly adventurous – pay five shillings to kiss the baboon. The pair raised a considerable sum for the Widows and Orphans Fund.

Jackie returned to South Africa and was officially discharged at Maitland Dispersal Camp in Cape Town on 26 April 1919. He left the army with his discharge papers, a military pension, and a civil employment form – the same paperwork issued to every demobilised soldier. Shortly afterwards, he led the 1st South African Brigade in a peace parade through the streets of Pretoria, where he was awarded the Pretoria Citizens' Service Medal.

On his sleeve, Jackie wore gold wound stripes – the same as any soldier who had shed blood for his country. He had earned every one of them.

A Quiet End

Jackie returned with Albert to the family farm in Villeria, trading his years of service for a quiet life as a retired veteran. He lived peacefully for two more years until 1921, when he died – reportedly after a thunderstorm triggered a fatal heart attack.

He remains, to this day, the only baboon known to have been formally enlisted, wounded in action, and promoted through the ranks in a modern army. His story is at once absurd and deeply moving – a testament to the unbreakable bond between a man and his unlikely companion, forged in the most terrible of circumstances.

In the long and strange history of animals in warfare, Corporal Jackie stands alone.