Soldier Dogs #5

by Marcus Sutter

  “I don’t have time to wait for your father to work his magic with the Germans,” she snapped. She turned and marched off into the snow, doing her best to put distance between herself and Antoine.

  A howl rang out in the distant forest.

  Juliette froze and felt thin fingers of ice stretching out along her veins. Where had it come from? She remembered the stories she’d heard as a child, about how wolves attacked people on the roads and hunted them down in packs.

  She breathed hard out of her nose and stared straight ahead into the trees. She couldn’t be scared now, especially in front of Antoine after she’d called him a coward. She would push forward. She had to be brave, for Papa and Mama. For Masha, and everyone else who was sick of being bullied and wanted their freedom back.

  Chapter 13

  THE WOODS OUTSIDE FANSON, BELGIUM

  DECEMBER 29, 1944

  7:45 P.M. LOCAL TIME

  They’d been running hard for a while when Boss heard the first gunshot and smelled the first whiff of carbine. She didn’t stop but exchanged glances and barks with the rest of the pack, acknowledging they’d all noticed it.

  The enemy.

  They were close now.

  Gregor began calling out to them in a softer voice, obviously trying to stay as quiet as possible. He had the dogs run for a while longer, but finally, after they crossed a wide, bright clearing and entered a new patch of thick woods, he pressed on the brake of his sled and called out to them, saying, “Whoa, whoa . . .”

  Tank barked deep and loud, and they all came to a halt.

  Boss’s ears perked in excitement as Gregor walked down the line and untied them all, giving each one a Judy Junker’s Tasty Treat as he went. They must have done a good job. But the fact that he was rewarding them for the first run meant that the second phase of their mission was at hand. And that was going to be tough.

  Gregor went to the crates on the sled and began pulling out gray harnesses. They were similar to the ones the dogs wore now, only these were attached to packs full of supplies, tools, and anything else that might be needed to help the Allied troops. Boss and the pack had been trained in different smells. They’d learned which ones were friendly smells and which were enemy smells. The plan was to cross into enemy territory and bring these supplies to those with friendly smells. If they couldn’t find any friendly soldiers, they had to look for normal humans from the area. Boss had smelled their food and fabrics, to identify them . . . but she couldn’t be sure. They had to be careful around civilians. Humans were tricky that way.

  It meant going alone, separated from Tank and the pack. Running through the woods, where anyone or anything could get at them. Only the best soldier dogs were chosen for this mission; Gregor needed the rest to help him mush the lightened sled.

  “Boss,” said Gregor. He came beside her, knelt, and helped her into a harness. She did her best to keep her tail still as he pulled it on; she wanted to look professional, even if she loved being chosen by Gregor.

  The weight on Boss’s shoulders felt good as Gregor secured her pack, but the dog’s heart hurt. She knew this was the mission she was trained for, that it meant she was a good dog—but she also knew she might never see Gregor again. She’d never known a better human than him, one more like a dog in his soul.

  Without thinking, she stepped forward and licked his cheek. Part of her was worried Gregor would be upset, but instead he just smiled and petted her neck and said, “Good girl, Boss.”

  Gregor was finishing up Buzz’s harness when the first voice hit Boss’s ears. She gave a little huruff, and the other dogs in the pack all raised their heads and listened.

  Humans, speaking the enemy language. Enemy shoe polish and tobacco smells.

  They were near. She was sure of it.

  Tank woofed softly at Gregor, and Gregor’s head whipped around. All at once, Boss heard Gregor’s heart begin to pound, and she smelled the first layer of fear sweat on his forehead.

  The human’s eyes ran over the dogs, and he nodded.

  “Go,” he said.

  Boss wanted to give him one last nuzzle—but she didn’t dare. That was for lazy dogs.

  She turned to the woods and ran.

  Snow billowed up around Boss as she leapt, and the forest gave way to a whole new array of sounds and smells—but this time, there was a new layer over it. For every cracking twig, there was distant gunfire and the crunch of enemy boots in the snow. For every whiff of pine and fleeing squirrel, there was an added hint of burning chemicals and sweating humans. It was war, all around them, and Boss knew that war meant she had to be on alert at all times. This was no hike with the pack—this was the mission, and it was do or die.

  A gun fired. A yelp of pain rang through the air, followed by a bark of panic.

  Boss stopped in a cloud of snow and turned to where the sound had come from.

  She knew that voice.

  She followed the panicked barking, picking up on smells along the way. There was fur, ration food, a backpack like hers . . . and blood, hot and fresh. She ran even faster, trying to ignore her fear as she picked up speed, and finally leapt over a rise to look down the other side.

  Tank lay on his side in the snow, breathing fast, his leg wet with blood. Delta stood over him, whining with fear in her voice.

  Boss rushed down the hill. She sniffed Tank’s leg and got the basics—a cut, not very deep, definitely caused by a bullet. The enemy was nearby. Far away but getting closer. Rifles.

  Tank looked up at Boss, his face twisted in a whimper of pain and anger. He barked twice, sharply, telling both of them clear as day:

  Go. Leave me.

  Boss and Delta locked eyes. Neither of them could really believe it, but it was a direct order from their alpha: he wanted them to run while they had the chance.

  The two dogs eyed one another, and without a single bark, Boss knew that she and Delta had the same thought:

  Never.

  They got on either side of Tank’s harness, grabbed it with their jaws, and dragged him through the snow, Boss doing her best not to listen to Tank’s whimpers of pain. Delta wanted to get him somewhere safe, like they’d learned to do with humans in training. Boss glanced around, looking for a big tree or even a cave—

  Her nose picked up a sudden rush of smells—dirt, exposed roots, rotting leaves, mouse dens. A winning combination . . . if it wasn’t too steep a drop.

  They found the ditch a few feet away, and thankfully the slope was gentle, and they could manage. Carefully, Delta and Boss dragged Tank down the side and nestled him up against one of the dirt walls. He looked terrible, his leg still bloody, his breathing fast and shallow. Boss quickly licked his wound, hoping to clean it and let Tank know she was there for him. She shuddered at the sharp flavor of blood.

  Boss turned to Delta. She still hated the other dog, but suddenly it didn’t matter—it was as though their training instantly took over, guiding them through weeks and weeks of practice. Boss saw the same feeling grip Delta. They each had their job.

  Delta was clever—she would cover the blood in case the enemy came by. Boss was fast—she would find help.

  Boss ran out of the ditch and howled at the top of her lungs as she bounded off into the woods, hoping to draw the enemy to her and away from Tank.

  She came over a hill and stopped dead in her tracks.

  Two humans stood cold and surprised in the snow. They didn’t smell like the enemy . . . but they were definitely afraid of her.

  Boss crouched, ready for anything. Friend or foe—she’d find out.

  Chapter 14

  OUTSIDE PLAINEVAUX, BELGIUM

  DECEMBER 29, 1944

  8:52 P.M. LOCAL TIME

  Juliette started with a cry and fell backward into the snow. The wolf loomed over her, its fur black and face white, its mouth open to reveal two jaws full of sharp teeth. It lowered its head and growled, sniffing the air around her. But it was those eyes, so blue they seemed to glow, like the eyes of a mon
ster born from the snow, that made her gasp and shield her face.

  She was so fascinated by the creature’s eyes, she almost didn’t notice the gray pack it wore strapped around its body. There was a row of three stars printed on its side.

  Juliette barely had time to move. One moment, the wolf was walking over to her. The next, Antoine was running at the animal swinging a tree branch, yelling like a crazy person.

  “Antoine, no!” she cried.

  Once again, her speed saved them. Just as Antoine raised the branch overhead like a club, Juliette leapt between them and raised her arms, blocking the wolf from Antoine’s blow. Antoine stopped short, nearly smacking her in the head with the branch.

  “Get out of the way!” he cried, the wind taken out of his sails.

  “It’s not going to hurt us!” said Juliette with heavy breath. “It’s an Allied wolf!”

  Antoine stared at her like she had pigeons flying out of her ears. “It’s a what?”

  “Look,” she said, and turned back to the wolf . . . or was it a dog? This close, Juliette could see that this animal was bigger and fluffier than any wolf she’d seen in books. Its bright eyes and triangular ears stood dramatically out of its white face. She’d seen dogs like these, in one of Mama’s movie magazines, posing with the actress Carole Lombard. A husky, that was what they were called.

  When Juliette reached for the dog, it took a tentative step back . . . then walked over to her. Juliette was surprised that the dog wasn’t scared—after all, they could be Germans. She must be able to tell the difference somehow.

  Juliette pointed to the three stars on one side of its harness, next to which was printed a single word: BOSS.

  “That star,” she said. “It’s a military symbol. I think it means they’re American.”

  “What’s Boss mean?” said Antoine.

  “I think it’s her name,” said Juliette.

  “How do you know it’s a she?” asked Antoine.

  Juliette didn’t think she could bring herself to have that talk with Antoine right now, so she turned her attention to the dog. She crouched down and pet the dog’s neck. “Boss?” she asked. “Is that your name?”

  In response, the dog whined and trotted away from them. It turned back toward the woods, then to them, then to the woods again.

  Gunshots rang out in the distance. As they echoed through the forest, Boss woofed softly and trotted off between the trees. “Wait,” said Juliette, climbing to her feet and running after the animal.

  They crested the rise that Boss had stood on and looked down on a narrow ditch on the other side. A second husky, this one colored coppery red around the edges of its fur, danced around between the walls of exposed dirt, and a third lay at its feet, its one white leg stained with blood.

  The children half walked, half slid down the rise and carefully inched their way into the ditch. Juliette knelt beside the injured husky, a big male with a backpack that said TANK on it. The poor dog’s chest rose and fell quickly, and the blood on his leg stood out brightly against the snow and his white fur.

  “He’s been cut,” said Juliette, feeling sick and scared, “or maybe shot. We have to stop the bleeding.”

  “How do we do that?” whispered Antoine, his eyes never leaving the dog’s wound.

  Juliette rolled her eyes, pulled off her scarf, and wrapped it around the dog’s leg. The dog whined and twitched as she pulled it tight around the wound, but he never snapped or barked at her. The other two dogs laid by and watched her attentively.

  Another gunshot echoed throughout the woods, followed by voices yelling sharp orders in German. Juliette shared a glance with Antoine—the boy looked pale—and swallowed hard.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  Antoine stared blankly ahead for a second . . . and then his eyes widened.

  “I’ve got an idea,” he said, and ran up out of the ditch. There was a loud crack, and Juliette was about to whisper at him to stop making so much noise, when Antoine returned with two long pine branches in his arms. He ran back down into the ditch and gently laid the pine branches over the dogs before pulling Juliette under a dark overhang of earth and crouching down in the shadows.

  They stayed that way for an hour, the dogs quiet under the branches, Juliette and Antoine breathing down the necks of their coats to avoid creating steam with their breath. They listened as a squad of soldiers stomped through the trees above them, yelling at each other in German and occasionally firing off a gun. Juliette couldn’t believe how quiet and subdued the dogs were. They had to be well-trained soldiers to be so silent.

  Juliette wondered how many German soldiers had already reached Plainevaux. With this many in the woods, there was no question that they had finally started filtering into her hometown. Had her parents gotten out in time? She felt sick, thinking about how worried they must be, to go upstairs and find her gone. And what about everyone else in town? Was Alix all right? Were her family and friends being interrogated about a cabin in the woods where Jews were being hidden?

  Finally, almost twenty minutes after they’d heard the last boots in the snow, Juliette and Antoine crept out from their hiding spot and uncovered the dogs. The two females, Boss and Delta—by her backpack—whined nervously and looked from the two of them to Tank and back again. Juliette felt her heart grow heavy in her chest as helplessness filled her. First Masha was gone, then the cabin was burned down, and now she couldn’t help this beautiful wounded dog.

  “I wish we could take him with us,” she said, feeling a hot tear rush down her cheek. “If we leave him here, he’s done for.”

  “It’s . . . it’s just as well,” said Antoine. “These kinds of dogs are sled dogs. They need to pull heavy loads. With that injury, he might never pull a sled again.”

  “If only we had a way to carry him—hey!” cried Juliette. Boss had come up beside her and was nuzzling her hand and rubbing her harness roughly against Juliette’s legs. She was about to shove her away when she felt a rough, bulging shape through the canvas of the backpack.

  She realized what it was in an instant, and frantically began unbuttoning the flap on Boss’s harness.

  “What are you doing?” asked Antoine. “Careful, you don’t know what’s in there—”

  “Rope!” cried Juliette, pulling a figure-eight bundle of rope out of the bag. She held it out to Antoine triumphantly, the smile on her face so big it hurt her cheeks.

  “Okay, you found rope,” said Antoine, looking bewildered. “So what?”

  “So,” said Juliette, “I have a plan.”

  Chapter 15

  OUTSIDE RIVAGE, BELGIUM

  DECEMBER 29, 1944

  9:20 P.M. LOCAL TIME

  “Mush!” said Antoine, lightly smacking Boss and Delta on the backside with a long branch.

  “Cut that out,” said Juliette. The exhaustion was finally getting to her, and she felt irritated at Antoine. “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “I saw it in a newsreel with my father,” said Antoine. “It’s a sled dog term. They like it.”

  Juliette didn’t think the dogs even noticed Antoine’s weak whipping. The two female dogs seemed entirely focused on the job of dragging Tank on the makeshift sled Juliette had pieced together from long strips of bark. She and Antoine had tied rope around the arm loops of Delta and Boss’s harnesses so they could pull the sled. Tank looked better—his breathing had evened out, and his whining had stopped, but he still lay on his side with a hopeless look on his face. When they stopped to melt some snow and give the dogs the water from their cupped hands, Tank only lapped up a little before lowering his head.

  Juliette understood how the wounded dog felt. She hugged her arms around her waist and tried to rub some warmth back into her body, but it was no easy task. The sun had set in the distance, and the temperature around them was dropping. She knew that soon it might even get down to negative degrees.

  And they weren’t even halfway to Lierneux yet.

  “How mu
ch farther do you think it is?” she asked, trying not to let her teeth chatter. Knowing Antoine, he’d turn her exhaustion into an example of why girls were weaker than boys.

  “A long way.” Antoine sighed. “We’re not even at Chanxhe yet. We probably won’t even make the river by midnight in this snow.” He stopped, breathing heavily. “We might want to set up camp somewhere. It’s getting late.”

  Juliette put her head down. “I’m not tired. We’re going to keep moving forward until we get to Lierneux. That’s where my parents wanted me to go.”

  Antoine sighed again but said nothing further. Juliette’s spirits bucked up at his silence. He could sigh all he wanted; she was like Boss and Delta, brave and fearless, never giving up—

  The sled dogs stopped in their tracks.

  “Not you too,” grumbled Juliette, turning and trudging back over to them. “What is it, dogs? We can’t stop here, we have to keep moving.”

  Boss turned her snout up at the sky and sniffed. Then she looked down at Juliette with concerned eyes and whimpered.

  Juliette was about to ask what was wrong when she felt a pinprick of cold against the back of her neck. She looked up to see fat flakes of snow drifting down all around them and thick gray clouds on the horizon.

  “It’s going to come down pretty hard soon,” said Antoine.

  “Then we have to gain ground while we can,” said Juliette. “Come on.”

  She tried to get their party to move faster, but before they knew it, the snow flurries became a full-on storm. First, feathery flakes drifted slowly between the trees. Then they became swirling billows of white, and suddenly a diagonal pelting of wind-driven snow found its way into the neck of Juliette’s jacket and so deep into her hair that she felt it on her scalp. When she looked down at herself, she saw that her coat and leggings were almost entirely white with the snow. Her fingers and feet were numb.