Was the simple notch on a WWII dog tag simply a design quirk, or was it an act of battlefield engineering in disguise? For decades, myths have circulated around this small indentation some stating it was for macabre mortuary use, others speculating about mechanical convenience. The reality, though, is found at the crossroads of necessity, ingenuity, and the developing science of military identification.
The American military dog tag has its roots in the Civil War, when soldiers, anxious to avoid anonymous burial, pinned scribbled notes or bought engraved badges at sutlers’ tents. As military historians recount, it wasn’t until 1906 that the U.S. Army officially mandated an identification tag a plain, round disk stamped with name, rank, and unit. This system developed during World War I, when two tags were given to the soldiers: one for the body and another to keep records. However, these initial tags did not have the now-familiar notch.
When World War II came along, the dog tag had evolved into a rectangular, oval-ended plate, brass, or stainless steel plate that held much information: name, service number, blood type, tetanus shot status, religious affiliation, and emergency contact information. With the increasing requirements of war in the modern age came an even greater need for rapid, accurate medical record-keeping in the field. The solution came in the form of a small, pistol-sized device: the Addressograph Model 70.
The Addressograph Model 70 was a masterpiece of mechanical engineering, given to medics for one function to copy the embossed information from a soldier’s dog tag onto medical forms with the help of a carbon ribbon. The device’s design depended upon a precisely machined locating pin within its stamping block. This pin inserted into the notch on the dog tag so that the tag would only fit in one way. As one technical manual explains, The imprinted dog tag will only fit into the Addressograph Model 70 one way and fully seat into the proper position. “Once seated in the proper position the Addressograph Model 70 will then operate and the information imprinted on a given tag can be transferred to the paperwork much like old credit card receipt machines transferred embossed credit card information onto paper receipts.” The unit simply would not work if the tag was placed incorrectly.
This apparently trivial aspect the notch was therefore an essential component of field medical engineering. It avoided expensive mistakes in the confusion of battle, where seconds might be the matter of life and death. The Model 70 might be set to print only the first two lines (serial number and name), the last three (emergency contact), or all five, on a selector knob. When the medic cranked the pistol grip, a platen forced the tag’s embossed letters against a ribbon saturated with carbon, stamping the information onto the medical record. The ribbon itself was a heavy, ink-soaked cotton strip almost 20 feet long, pushed by hand-turned reels an analog, if efficient, answer in a digital world.
The construction of the Addressograph was sturdy: a combination of olive drab sheet metal and cast aluminum joined together with rivets and screws to withstand field use. Not everything was perfect, however. The sheet metal cover shielding the ribbon was susceptible to denting, a rare vulnerability in what was otherwise a hardy device. Nevertheless, its effect on military medical administration was significant. As one period text explained, For simplification of administration and to help record clerks with their tasks and avoid errors in the field, a special mechanical device was introduced by the United States Army in 1942.
The Addressograph Model 70’s pistol-like shape, however, had unintended implications. As militaria collectors report, The German prisoners said it is because the medics were ‘armed.’ When questioned further the German prisoners said the medics were armed with pistols and as such they were being shot as soldiers instead of medics. This misunderstanding caused many of the medics to abandon the devices in the field, which has resulted in them as being relatively scarce today.
The technology and development of the dog tag did not cease at the close of the war. The notched tag gave way to the obsolescence of the Addressograph Model 70, which was replaced by newer processes and, in time, by digital and biometric identification systems. However, the legacy of this engineering solution remains. The notch was never concerned with mortuary protocol or macabre field improvisations it was the product of precision engineering, intended to make the conveyance of critical information quick, dependable, and infallible in the harshest environments.
To whoever possesses a notched WWII dog tag now, it is a relic. It is a reminder of the manner in which necessity, technology, and human ingenuity found their way together on the field of combat, making their leave a small but permanent imprint on the history of war science.
