“He wants to be a marine,” the boy’s mother said.
“Semper Fi,” I told him. He smiled, and his mother led him away.
“That sort of thing did not happen when I was enlisted.” Jeff stepped up next to me, watching the mother and her boy grab their bags.
“Lucky you,” I said without thinking.
Jeff gave me a puzzled look. I felt bad. I didn’t mean to confuse him. But I really hoped the dog would show up before anyone else came over to thank me for anything.
“Well now, if y’all want to step right inside here,” a perky woman who worked for the airline said, opening the etched glass door to an office for us.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Jeff told her.
We stepped inside and she handed Jeff some paperwork. My eyes went right to the big plastic dog crate resting on a rolling luggage cart by the side of the desk. The crate had a wire-mesh door and wire mesh running along the sides. The wires were covered in soft plastic that looked worn in places, like it had been clawed and chewed on by some powerful, persistent jaws. The sides were scraped and scratched a bit. The crate had definitely seen some rough terrain. It had a cheerful red tag from the airline tied around the back handle, and stenciled across the top in faded ink was a warning:
CAUTION: MILITARY WORKING O.G.
The D of dog had rubbed off, but the message was clear: This wasn’t your pet puppy. This was a well-trained, weapons-grade K-9 warrior who meant business. Just below the stencil, someone had taped down a torn-out piece of lined yellow paper and scrawled on it in pen.
Sgt. Loki, USMC
Semper Fido
My heart quickened. Someone in his unit had written that on there, maybe his first handler, Eliopulos, or maybe one of the marines over there right now, sleeping on the dirt in some isolated outpost, anxiously listening for the sound of a surprise attack coming in, the whistle of a mortar shell, or the crackle of a machine gun opening up, and wishing his unit hadn’t had to send their dog back to the states to train some noob.
Every second Loki was back here with me, marines’ lives were in danger and the bad guys were able to gain ground. So I was determined to get myself ready to deploy with Loki ASAP. That’s as soon as possible. No time to waste.
I squatted down to look inside the crate.
Loki was a furry shadow inside, his head resting on his paws and his haunches curled around. His lips puffed in and out with deep, snoozing breaths.
“They sedated him for the flight when he left Germany,” the perky woman explained. “Dogs don’t like to fly. Even military dogs.”
I watched Loki sleeping for a minute. His eyes flickered underneath his eyelids, and his mouth made tiny warbling noises. His paws twitched, like he was chasing squirrels. Or, maybe, chasing insurgents. When military dogs sleep, do they dream about war?
Loki and I were going to do some good work together, I was sure of it. I couldn’t wait to get started.
I smiled at him and rested my fingers on the wire at the front of the cage.
Fast as a shadow, Loki was up, his teeth flashing against his black fur, snarling and charging at my fingers. I yanked them away just before his teeth clamped shut around the wire mesh. He tugged at the front of the cage, slashing his head back and forth, trying to get out.
He let go of the wire only to bark at me, his gums pink, his eyes bulging. The fur on his back stood straight up.
The perky woman yelped and jumped behind her desk.
“Out!” Jeff commanded, and Loki stopped barking, but his lips still curled up to show his teeth. He growled, his eyes fixed on me. Out was the command when you wanted the dog to stop doing whatever it was it was doing. The canine version of “knock it off.”
“Lokiiii …” Jeff squatted down.
Loki sniffed at the air. He must have remembered Jeff’s smell. He let out a long whimper, slumped his face back onto the floor of the crate, and fell right back into the sleep from which I’d woken him.
“Don’t take it personally,” Jeff said. “Flying can be hard on them, especially after what he’s been through. Let’s get him in the truck and get back to base so you two can get a proper introduction.”
I nodded, my face flushed. This was not a good impression to make, either with Loki or with Jeff, who was, after all, still the instructor who had to certify me. If I couldn’t get Loki to like me, I’d never graduate the IDD program. I’d be letting down Master Sergeant Gipson, who’d recommended me, the other marines in my class, Gunny, Jeff, and the marines waiting overseas for Loki’s return. And I couldn’t go back to Mom and Zach like this. I had to fight some dragons first. I had to come home a hero.
I sighed and rolled the luggage cart with Loki’s crate out toward the parking lot.
I had no idea how much worse my proper introduction could go.
Loki was the name of one of the Norse gods. Vikings and peasants alike once told tales of his deeds. He was a troublesome god, a god of fire and of air, a trickster. Wherever he went and whatever he did, chaos followed.
I looked it up online.
It seemed like a fitting name for my new dog, especially with what happened when we got back to base. Jeff handed me a leash and told me to take Loki over to the kennel, where he had an assigned spot.
I opened the back of the SUV. Jeff was watching me carefully. I held the leash in one hand and unlatched the front of the crate with the other.
“Come here, good boy,” I said in my friendliest voice. My hands were open, with the leash resting on my palm. I tried to look as unthreatening as possible. Loki growled a little. “It’s okay,” I said. “Everything’s okay.”
He stopped growling and cocked his head to the side, studying me, listening to my voice. His black coat shined and his eyes glimmered with intelligence. I noticed a sprinkling of white hairs at the tip of his snout, twitching as his nose worked the air.
From the kennel building, the rest of the class stepped outside into the fenced training area, all of them curious to see me with my new partner. They all wanted to know what a veteran combat dog would be like. They gripped the chain-link fence and eyed me closely. None of them made a sound. I’m sure they wanted to hoot or something like that, but they respected the dogs enough to keep quiet. Or they were quiet because Gunny was also standing just outside the kennel, watching me unload my dog.
“Come on, Loki,” I said.
Loki lowered his head, presenting the collar on his neck. I exhaled with relief. It wouldn’t have looked good if my dog attacked me the moment we got back on base.
I reached forward to clip on his leash, and that was the moment he sprang right past me, using my bent knee for leverage and jumping out of the back of the truck. He hit the ground running, all four legs pounding the dirt as he sprinted away.
“Loki!” I shouted. “Heel!”
If he heard me, he didn’t show it. He flew away in the opposite direction, his tongue flapping out the side of his mouth like a banner.
The guys couldn’t hold back anymore. A chorus of laughter erupted.
“Looks like Dempsey’s dog is going AWOL!” somebody yelled.
“That’s how his first date ended too!”
AWOL, elf talk for absent without leave. Basically, it means Loki was ditching me.
“Dempsey!” Gunny shouted at me. “Go get your dog and get him squared away. You’re running late.”
I was running even more late forty-five minutes later, after I had chased Loki around miles and miles of grass and trees and fences. I finally had a chance to catch up when he stopped to rest under the shade of a parked jeep by the entrance. He was panting and staring at me as I approached.
“Come on, Loki, buddy. Come on …”
The moment I stepped within reach of him, he pounced down on his front paws with his behind in the air, tail wagging and looking up at me.
“Okay, pal, we’ll play,” I whispered. “Just let me get the leash on you and we’ll play.”
He liked most of my suggesti
on, I guess, just not the leash part. When I moved closer with it, he jumped in the opposite direction and charged off again, leaving me, sweating and tired, to chase after him.
As I ran, Gunny pulled up beside me in his jeep.
“Dempsey, you are as stubborn as you are stupid, you know that?”
“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant,” I sighed.
“You ever think of asking for help?”
“I like to solve my own problems, Gunny,” I panted.
“You’ve got a base full of marines and experienced civilian instructors and you’ve been chasing that dog around alone for almost an hour.” Gunny shook his head. “And it didn’t once occur to you to ask for assistance?”
“Don’t want to be a burden on the unit,” I said. “Suffer in silence. It’s the Marine Corps way.”
“You listen up.” Gunny stopped the jeep and stepped out. He jabbed his finger into my chest, stopping my run. “You suffer in silence all you want, but you do not fail in silence. You understand me?” His face was beet red, truly angry. “You get in over your head here, we all have a good laugh and you run some extra miles. You’ll be in good shape when you deploy. But you lose control of your dog downrange, it could get him killed and you killed and put the marines who are counting on you in danger. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant.”
“Is that it? You gonna ask for help now?”
“I guess I have to, Gunnery Sergeant.”
He shook his head at me and turned me around, pointing back toward the kennels where Jeff had Loki on a leash and was leading him to me.
“You will always get help when you need it,” Gunny said. “It’s time you start to believe that, Marine.”
“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant,” I said, fighting the urge to look at my feet. I knew I was blushing with shame. I thanked Jeff when he reached us and took the leash from him. Loki stared up at me, panting. It looked like he was laughing.
“Sit,” I said in my tight command voice, but he just kept staring up at me, panting and not sitting. “Sit,” I said again.
Still nothing.
“Loki, sit.”
Nada.
“Sit.”
More panting.
“Sit.”
Nothing.
“Sit.”
Loki lay down at my feet.
“It’s gonna take some time,” said Jeff. “He seems to have picked up some bad habits. But we’ll get both of you trained up and certified in time.” Jeff smiled warmly. I wanted to believe him. He took the leash from me, and Loki snapped to attention and followed him back toward the kennels.
Gunny climbed back into his jeep. “We’ll give you two some time to get to know each other,” he said. “In the kennel, so neither of you can run away.”
I swear I saw a hint of a smile creep across Gunnery Sergeant Woodward’s face.
Once we were inside the kennel, I shut the chain-link gate and let Loki off the leash. He immediately rushed to the far corner of the room and sniffed around the walls, sweeping the area for bombs, I guess.
Once he was satisfied that the room was safe, he stood against the far wall, watching me to see what I’d do. I kept myself as relaxed as possible and stepped forward to let him sniff me.
“Good boy,” I said, hoping the sound of my voice would calm him. “Good boy …”
In a flash, all his training kicked in and he leaped for me, barking and snarling, and his jaws clamped down around my forearm. The force of his jump knocked me backward against the gate and pulled me to the ground. It was just like Ccujo, except this time I wasn’t wearing a bite suit.
“Out! Out!” I yelled, but Loki wasn’t trained to take orders from me yet. His teeth were digging into my arm, and it hurt.
“You okay in there?” Hulk came running in, hearing the commotion. Once he saw what was going on, he moved to open the gate and help me.
“No!” I said. I needed to earn Loki’s respect right now or I’d never get it. I needed to earn the unit’s respect too, for that matter, and I couldn’t have another failure on my record. Hulk watched helplessly as my dog tried to tear me apart.
With my free arm, I reached across Loki’s back and, using all my strength, turned my body to roll him over. I’d seen videos of this move, called the alpha roll, but never imagined myself needing to do it. In the wild, wolves try to pin each other on their backs to show who is the pack leader, and the alpha roll was a copy of that. It was a very controversial technique. Some dog trainers thought it was dangerous for the dog. Some thought it was dangerous for the handler. Many trainers said it could make bad behavior worse. But I was desperate. I needed to show Loki who was in charge.
Loki, however, still thought he was in charge.
He wiggled and writhed, trying to keep me from rolling him, but high school wrestling came in handy and I got him flipped over. The moment he was on his back, he let go of my arm, but he was still squirming. I spread his front paws with my hands and used my legs to lay out his back legs. He looked up at me from the floor and stopped growling. His neck relaxed. His breathing slowed and he calmed down.
“Okay, Loki,” I said, calmly. “Okay, boy … okay.”
“Nicely done, Corporal,” someone behind me said. It was Jeff, with the rest of my class behind him. “That is a textbook alpha roll, gentlemen. Firm but gentle. If you absolutely have to do it, that is how it is done.” He smiled at me. “I think you can let Loki up now.”
I stood up carefully, giving Loki a quick scratch behind the ears to show him there were no hard feelings. He rolled over onto his belly and looked up at me, his ears slightly back, his breathing relaxed. Submissive. Waiting. I knew everyone was watching us and I had to do something.
“Loki, sit,” I commanded, and he immediately rose up onto his back legs to sit, still looking directly at me. “Heel.”
Loki got up and walked around to my side, sitting again at my heel.
“Good boy!” I squealed at him, just like I had learned on the ammo can. His tail wagged.
“Way to control your dog.” Jeff smiled and tossed a bright red rubber toy over the fence. I caught it, and Loki’s tail wagged like crazy.
“That’s a Kong,” said Jeff. “It’s the handler’s most important tool. When deployed, you will have your weapon and your Kong toy on you at all times. Understood?”
“Aye-aye,” I said.
“Now go play some fetch with your dogs,” Jeff told us.
“When do we start working?” I asked, eager to use the momentum I’d just gained with Loki to start learning how to find explosives.
“You already have,” Jeff said. “You remember when you were a kid, and play was serious business? Well, that’s how it is with your dogs. It’s all play to them. Playing fetch and finding toys are the same to them as finding guns and bombs. They love it. And you will too. A successful dog team is all about the bond you build with each other. There is no line between work and play. So start playing.”
“Oo-rah!” our class responded, and we got down to work. I mean, play.
And for the first time since I had joined the Corps, training didn’t suck.
The weeks raced by. The bruise on my wrist healed. I spent hours and hours with Loki, grooming him and feeding him and playing fetch with his favorite red Kong toy. Sometimes I’d hide it and he’d have to search a supply hangar or parking lot for it, guided by his nose and the sounds of my voice. Sometimes I’d throw it as far and as hard as I could, and he’d race from my side, trying to snag it before it even hit the ground. Sometimes we’d just wrestle, and it seemed like he never forgot that first alpha roll. He was always trying to roll me onto my back, to show that he was really the boss.
“Not gonna happen,” I told him the first time he tried it, his paws slapping at my chest. He tried to roll me with his nose, shoving it into my armpit. It tickled like crazy, and I laughed. Hulk and Diaz were watching us, smirking, and I stopped laughing. I got Loki by the collar and stood.
He gave me
one of those looks. Why’d you stop playing?
I had to remember that this wasn’t Baxter or TJ that I was wrestling with. Loki was a highly developed piece of military equipment. As much as we played, he was my partner, not my pet, and I was a marine, not some goofball kid.
“Sit,” I commanded.
He sat and looked up at me with an expression that I could only think of as disappointed. Hulk and Diaz went back to work with their own dogs.
I took the Kong out of my pocket and gave Loki the command to seek one of the training objects I’d hidden. As he ran off to earn his playtime, I glanced back at Diaz, who was rolling on the ground with his dog, Joker, laughing.
Loki liked to work, I told myself. It was all play to him.
Some of the guys brought their dogs back to the barracks to sleep in the cots with them, and even though it was against regulations, Gunny looked the other way.
“How come you make Loki sleep out in the kennels?” Hulk asked me one night.
“It’s the rules,” I told him.
“Yeah, but even Gunny don’t care about that rule.”
“I care about it.”
“You cold, man, you real cold.”
“Gus is the iceman,” Diaz said. “Not even Loki, god of fire, can melt his heart.”
“How you know about the god of fire?” Hulk wondered.
Diaz shrugged. “Thor’s Hammer 3 for Xbox. I know all the Norse gods.”
Hulk just shook his head.
“I’m not cold,” I told Hulk. “My dogs at home sleep at the foot of my bed. It’s just that we aren’t supposed to treat these dogs like pets. They’re working dogs. Loki has a job to do, and I don’t want to give him bad habits.”
Diaz rolled his eyes, just like I did when my mom scolded me for feeding Baxter and TJ at the dinner table. I ignored him.
“Anyway, Loki outranks me,” I said. “It’d be like sharing a bed with a superior officer.” I looked around the room. “You really want to wake up next to Gunny?”
Some of the guys listening chuckled. Hulk cracked a smile.
“Well look at that,” he said. “Corporal Dempsey got jokes.” He gave me a fist bump and left me alone.
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