by Megan Rix
‘Molly went home with her owner this morning,’ Kate said. ‘Both of them looked over the moon to be reunited. Molly will need to take it easy for the next few days, but I’m sure she’ll be getting lots of cuddles and love and will be better in no time.’ She looked down at Grey. ‘He looks like you gave him a bath.’
‘I did. Do you think maybe someone would take him on now? Only I would, I really would, but I’m off to basic training tomorrow.’
Kate shook her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But no one’s taking on any stray dogs, not in wartime.’
Nathan understood but he still felt bad. It wasn’t the dog’s fault that they were at war.
He remembered the woman in the park mentioning the War Dog Training School.
‘Have you heard about the War Dog Training School?’ he asked. ‘Could he go there? I bet he’d make a great war dog.’
Kate nodded. ‘There’s a poster about it on the wall over there. A big, healthy young dog like him might be lucky and get selected.’
‘Whereabouts in Hertfordshire is it?’ Nathan asked her, as Grey watched with interest as other dogs and cats were brought in and taken out of the clinic doors in a seemingly never-ending stream.
‘Place called Potters Bar,’ she told him. ‘But they’d expect him to be able to walk to heel and have some basic obedience skills.’
‘I can teach him those,’ Nathan said.
‘I bet you could,’ Kate replied. ‘He certainly does seem to like you. Wait here a minute.’
She hurried off as Nathan read the ‘War Dogs Wanted’ poster and Grey sniffed at passing dogs.
A few moments later, Kate returned with a proper collar and lead for Grey.
‘These’ll be better than a belt and washing-line string,’ she said kindly.
‘Thanks,’ said Nathan as he put them on Grey. The dog didn’t seem to mind, and seemed to have got used to the idea of wearing a collar already.
‘Good luck,’ she said.
Nathan was the best chance the dog had of not being put down.
For the rest of the morning Grey practised walking to heel and Nathan was very pleased with how quickly the dog learnt what he was supposed to do.
‘You are one clever dog,’ he told Grey, and Grey wagged his tail.
Nathan was shocked when a few minutes later, as they were walking down the street, two children saw Grey and started screaming: ‘It’s a wolf, it’s a wolf!’
‘He’s not a wolf,’ Nathan called after them as they ran away in panic, but they didn’t stop to discover the truth. Nathan was still upset by this encounter when suddenly something even worse happened. A scruffy-looking older boy threw a chunk of brick from a bomb site at Grey and it only just missed him. If it had been a couple of inches to the right, he would have been seriously hurt.
‘Hey!’ Nathan yelled at the boy. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Nazi dog deserved it,’ the boy sneered.
‘He isn’t a Nazi …’ Nathan started to say, but the boy ran off around the nearest corner and quickly disappeared from view.
Nathan looked down at Grey, and Grey looked up at him with his gentle blue eyes.
‘They won’t even give you a chance to show what a great dog you are,’ he said. It just seemed so unfair. But at least perhaps they’d give Grey a chance at the War Dog Training School and, as luck would have it, Potters Bar was one of the stations his train would be stopping at on the way to his basic training camp at Cardington, so he could drop Grey off on the way.
Chapter 5
Grey’s tail hung low as they went into Dover Priory train station. It smelt strange, and the hustle and bustle of the travellers and station staff worried him. For most of his life he’d stayed as far away from people as he could possibly get, but here they were everywhere.
Nathan, holding tightly to his brown cardboard suitcase, looked down at Grey, sensing his distress.
‘It’s OK,’ he said in an attempt soothe him, trying to be calm for the benefit of the dog, but inside he was starting to worry that taking Grey on a train might not be such a good idea. Grey was a stray, after all. What if he bit someone, or ran on to the tracks in terror?
Grey looked up at Nathan, his eyes wide with fear, and Nathan remembered hearing how a dog could sense its owner’s emotions down its lead. Nathan had been gripping the lead Kate had given him very tightly, so tightly that his knuckles were white. Now he realized he was probably making everything worse for Grey, and for himself. He took a long deep breath and let it out as slowly as he could. Then he shrugged a few times to loosen his shoulders and bent his head from left to right to release his own tension. Only then did he crouch down so that he was at Grey’s eye level and stroke him.
Grey licked his hand and pushed his head into Nathan and gave a half wag of his tail, only to jerk away suddenly at the roar of the train as it approached.
Nothing Nathan did could stop Grey from shaking in absolute terror as the train steamed into the station. All the dog wanted to do was get away from it, and get Nathan away from it too.
He pulled on the lead but Nathan didn’t come. He twisted and turned as he struggled wildly, and Nathan almost lost his grip on the lead, but he just managed to cling on.
‘You’ve got to get on the train,’ he said, desperately. ‘You’ve got to get on, Grey, please. It’s my only chance to save you.’
He remembered his grandfather telling him how nervous horses were moved in a circle and now he tried this with Grey, almost running, but also worrying that the train would leave without them.
‘In here,’ shouted a voice from the back of the train, and Nathan ran as fast as he could, followed by a surprised Grey, then jumped into the guard’s van, and before he knew it Grey was in the guard’s van too, the door was slammed shut, there was a piercing blast from the whistle and the train set off.
‘Thanks,’ Nathan said, to the junior guard who’d let them in.
‘’S OK, where are you two off to, then?’
‘The War Dog Training School,’ Nathan told him.
‘Going to be an army pooch, is he? Well, he’ll have to get used to a lot worse than a huffing puffing steam train.’
Nathan nodded his agreement.
Grey stood there panting with his tongue hanging out, until the wobbles and jolts from the train as it picked up speed caused him to swiftly sit down. But he carried on panting anxiously to show he wasn’t happy and he didn’t want to be here, not one little bit.
The guard’s van didn’t have a seat as it was designed to carry bicycles and wheelchairs. Nathan sat down on the floor next to Grey, who rested his head on his legs as Nathan stroked him.
They had to change trains at King’s Cross, but this time when they got to the platform the steam train was already there waiting, the air was thick with clouds of steam and ringing with the clank of engines moving in and out of the platforms.
This time Nathan waited with Grey at the very back of the platform, as far away from the rails and the incoming and outgoing trains on other platforms as he could get, until it was time for them to board.
‘It’s all right,’ he said as he stroked the big dog’s head, but Grey didn’t agree. His tail stayed firmly down and he pressed himself close into Nathan.
‘Fine-looking dog,’ said an elderly man who was holding a briefcase and wearing a colonel’s uniform, nodding at Grey.
‘Thanks,’ Nathan said, ‘I’m taking him to the War Dog Training School to see if he can be a war dog.’
‘Are you indeed?’ the colonel said, and he gave a half smile. ‘I wish you the very best of luck.’
‘This way,’ Nathan said to Grey when the train doors were finally opened.
Nathan headed briskly towards an open carriage door with Grey trotting beside him, but as they reached the steps to climb on, Grey showed Nathan he’d much rather not get on board by pulling back on his lead and whining.
Nathan thought quickly. He walked Grey round in a wide circle away from the train and back again at a quick pace, talking to him all the time, and then he pulled the ball he’d found at the park from his pocket, knowing how much Grey liked it, and as Grey reached his head out for it Nathan hurried up the steps.
Grey was so surprised and distracted by the sight of the ball that before he knew it he was in the carriage and lying on the ground at Nathan’s feet with his ball in front of him.
The elderly colonel had been watching them from the window. ‘Nicely handled,’ he commented as Nathan sat down in the seat opposite.
Grey shook again as the train engine roared into life and they set off. He heaved a sigh, then whined quietly, but Nathan gave him some of the corned beef sandwich he’d brought with him for their lunch and Grey gulped it down. Nathan smiled.
‘Not too frightening to put you off your food, then?’ he said as Grey looked up at him, hoping for more food. ‘There you go.’ Nathan gave him the last crust of the bread. ‘That’s the lot.’
‘Have you had him since he was a pup?’ the colonel asked Nathan, as he pulled his own sandwiches from his briefcase.
Grey looked at the colonel’s sandwiches with keen eyes.
‘No, I haven’t,’ Nathan said, and he told the colonel the story of how he and Grey had met.
‘Well, he’s really taken a liking to you,’ the older man said. ‘Quite remarkable in such a brief period of time.’
‘And me to him, sir,’ Nathan said. ‘I’m going to miss him terribly once I’ve dropped him off today.’
‘And he’ll miss you,’ the colonel said thoughtfully, as he broke off some of his sandwich and gave it to Grey. ‘Probably even more so.’
Grey gulped down the food and looked up at the colonel to see if there was any more.
‘That’s your lot, I’m afraid,’ the colonel said as he took out his penknife and sliced off a piece of apple. Grey looked at the apple and drooled.
The colonel frowned and then offered the slice to Grey who immediately ate it.
‘I didn’t know dogs ate apples,’ Nathan grinned.
‘Doesn’t do them any harm – unless they eat too many and get a stomach ache, of course. I think your dog is so used to fending for himself that he’ll try most things,’ the colonel said. ‘He’d be a useful dog to have on a reconnaissance trip – he’d find food if anyone could.’
The colonel looked thoughtful. ‘You’re off to do your basic training at the Cardington camp, you say?’
‘Yes, sir.’
By the time they arrived at Potters Bar, where the colonel also got off, nearly two hours later, Grey was much more at home travelling by train and had even had a brief a nap on board.
The station staff gave Nathan directions to the old greyhound racing stables that had been taken over by the War Dog Training School.
As they walked there, Grey sniffed at the Hertfordshire air, which smelt much less salty than the air of Dover and much less steamy than the steam train.
Nathan stopped at the school’s entrance gate.
‘Name?’ asked the young soldier standing on guard beside it.
‘Er, Nathan Green, and this is Grey,’ Nathan said. ‘But we’re not expected.’
‘Right,’ the soldier said, looking down at Grey who was now sitting with his head tilted to one side as he looked up at him, one ear standing up and the other flopping over.
The War Dog Training School hadn’t been running for very long but it had seen a lot of dogs, of all sorts, come and go. When the public had been asked to lend their dogs to the war effort, tens of thousands had been offered, but less than half of them had been found to be even vaguely suitable.
A lot of the dogs with potential had been German Shepherds like Grey, so even though the dog handlers complained about being overwhelmed with offers of unsuitable dogs, the soldier knew they’d want to see this one.
‘Hang on a minute and I’ll get someone,’ he said.
Grey lay down to wait.
Donated dogs were supposed to have been examined and registered by one of the animal welfare charities before being shipped to the War Dog Training School, but Nathan and Grey had arrived unexpectedly and with no papers. It was sometimes difficult to tell which dogs would make good military dogs and which wouldn’t. But some tell-tale signs remained the same whatever duty the dogs were asked to do.
Very timid dogs usually had to be rejected during the initial stages. Those that were overly aggressive towards other dogs or people weren’t good candidates either. Nor were dogs that were very protective of their food and growled at anyone who came close to their bowl. Or those that were the same when it came to a toy or a ball.
What the school was looking for in a military service dog was an animal with a friendly, biddable nature, but not one that was too soft and rolled over on its back to show its belly as soon as anyone approached, and not one that continually wandered off to greet strangers. So far they’d found most German Shepherds, or Alsatians as they were now known, to be intelligent and loyal with a good temperament. They were also easily trained and had a high level of endurance.
‘I think you’ll want to see this one,’ the soldier on duty at the gate told his sergeant. ‘There’s something special about him.’
Michael Ward, the newest member of the dog handling team, was sent over to Nathan and Grey with the paperwork that needed to be filled out.
‘Who’s this, then?’ Michael asked, as he crouched down and patted Grey. Grey wagged his tail and nuzzled his head into him. Michael smelt of all the dogs he’d stroked that day, which was a lot.
‘I call him Grey,’ Nathan said.
‘So Grey, you want to be an army dog, do you?’ Grey sniffed at Michael’s pocket and Michael laughed. ‘Well, we can’t expect you to work for nothing can we?’ He pulled a biscuit from his pocket and Grey wolfed it down gratefully.
Over a strong cup of tea Nathan told Michael the story of how he and Grey had met.
‘Doesn’t look much like a stray, does he?’ Michael observed, looking at the shiny-coated dog. ‘Bit thin, of course, but nice coat and teeth and good clear eyes.’
‘I gave him a bath before we left this morning,’ Nathan grinned.
‘You gave a stray adult dog a bath – and he let you?’ Michael said, looking astonished. ‘You’re a braver man than I am. Ever thought about becoming a dog handler for the army? You seem to have a knack.’
Grey gazed up at Nathan as Michael looked down at Grey.
‘And I can see that Grey thinks the world of you. Usually the first few weeks are spent building a bond between dog and handler, but you two have already got that,’ Michael said.
Nathan pulled his call-up papers from his pocket.
‘Unfortunately I can’t, although I would if I could. If you could just give him a chance,’ Nathan said.
‘Don’t worry yourself,’ Michael told him. ‘I can see he’s a special dog and your affection for him just confirms that. I’ll make sure he gets a fair trial.’
‘Will you be his handler
?’ Nathan asked hopefully.
Michael shrugged. ‘I don’t know – probably not. There are so many dogs here, but I’ll keep a special eye on him whether I’m his handler or not.’ He put down his teacup. ‘Do you want to see where he’s going to sleep?’
‘Sure.’ Nathan got to his feet and Grey immediately responded by standing up too.
He was very interested in the different smells coming from the camp and the dogs in the kennels. So long as Nathan was with him it was all interesting and he trotted along beside him, his tail up confidently.
Nathan stared at the rows of wooden dog kennels. It looked like an army barracks for canines. There was a lot of noise coming from them as dogs barked and whined, some of them standing up on their hind legs to watch the newcomers as they passed their doors. Grey looked interested, sniffed at some of the dogs and wagged his tail, but jumped back from a snarling Yorkshire terrier.
‘Some of these dogs are here to be assessed but others are being trained as guard dogs, tracker dogs and infantry dogs and also messenger dogs,’ Michael told Nathan. ‘That little Yorkie looks like it should be a guard dog. It’d see anyone off.’
‘What are tracker and infantry dogs?’ Nathan asked.
‘Tracker dogs are given the scent of someone or something and trained to find it. Infantry dogs are trained to silently alert troops to an enemy danger by looking in the direction of the sound and not barking,’ Michael told him. ‘Then there are the messenger dogs. Some dogs can take messages between handlers up to eight miles apart, but one mile is usually the maximum distance the army expects from them.’
‘Sounds like we need a lot of dogs,’ Nathan said, and Michael grinned.
‘There’s even talk of some of them being trained as parachute dogs,’ he said.
Nathan gave him a look of utter disbelief.
‘It’s true,’ Michael insisted.
Nathan shook his head. ‘No one can possibly expect a dog to jump out of a plane hundreds of feet up in the air. That’s just crazy.’