Caesar the War Dog 2

by Stephen Dando-Collins

  The instructor’s smile disappeared. ‘Move it, clever clogs! Run!’

  Gathering all his strength, Charlie ran on, into the bush, following a rough path made muddy by recent rain. On and on he loped with his awkward gait. Behind him, other exhausted soldiers were pulling themselves from the stream and, dripping wet, followed him at a staggering run.

  Charlie could see that several trees had fallen across the path ahead. As he came to them, he noticed that the ground fell away sharply beyond their trunks. While Charlie’s prosthetics had given him the ability to walk and run again, they could not offer the agility he’d once possessed with his powerful legs of skin, bone and muscle. Rather than try to vault the fallen trees, Charlie was forced to clamber over them.

  As he was awkwardly making his way across the horizontal trunks, another SAS candidate overtook him. Taking a flying leap to clear the trees, the soldier roughly shouldered Charlie aside. In the SAS, every man helped his mates, but on this course to gain entry into the elite unit it was every man for himself.

  Charlie was knocked off balance and sent toppling over the tree trunk. Feeling a strange sensation in his left leg, he tumbled over and over, down the muddy slope beyond the fallen trees. When he came to a stop at the bottom, he found that he’d landed on top of the man who had bowled him over. Without an apology, the soldier pushed Charlie away, got to his feet and continued on. But when Charlie went to get up, he couldn’t. Looking down, he saw that his left leg was missing. He looked around and saw that the prosthetic had become caught between two fallen trees at the top of the rise. It jutted skyward up there, as if it had taken root.

  With a loud curse, Charlie hauled himself back up the rise to retrieve it. Just as he reached the top, the chief instructor arrived. Smiling, Sergeant Major Howard took a seat on one of the fallen trunks and reached for Charlie’s prosthetic. ‘Lost something, Grover?’ he said, holding it up.

  Without a word, Charlie grabbed the prosthetic from Howard, seated himself on another tree trunk and set about refitting the leg. All the while, other men on the course went huffing and puffing past. One of the prosthetic’s attachments had broken, but Charlie didn’t let that stop him. Once the left leg was in place, Charlie stood up.

  ‘Face it, Grover,’ said the sergeant major. ‘You’re not going to finish this selection course. Quit now. No one will blame you.’

  Charlie didn’t reply. Climbing over the trees, he slid down the muddy slope. But when he went to run, he found that the mechanism of his left knee had seized up and jammed. The entire leg now hung stiff and useless. Charlie kept going, dragging his left prosthetic along like deadwood.

  ‘Give up, Grover! Give up!’ Howard bellowed.

  But Charlie pushed on. Over the next half hour, all the men who’d been behind him on the course caught up and passed him. Undaunted, Charlie laboured on at the back of the pack, which, before long, disappeared out of sight.

  It was after dark when Charlie, the last to arrive, reached a clearing where lamps hung from trees. A stop for the night had been scheduled, the first break for the men in days. Candidates were sitting and lying on the ground, done in and hardly able to move. Charlie noticed several green Army Land Rovers and a Unimog truck parked nearby, and could smell food cooking. The food was for the instructors, who would deliberately eat in full view of the hungry candidates. No candidate was permitted food until he either gave up or completed the course, which was all part of the process of breaking down the mental strength of the course participants. For the mentally tough Charlie, food was the least of his concerns.

  With folded arms, chief instructor Sergeant Major Howard stood waiting for Charlie. Like the other instructors, Howard had caught a ride to the camp site in a Land Rover. The sergeant major called Charlie over, then looked very deliberately at his watch. ‘You know there was a time limit on this section of the course?’ he asked, a faint smile crossing his lips.

  Determined to remain on his feet, Charlie stood before the sergeant major, physically shattered but mentally indomitable. He jammed his hands in his pockets. ‘Yes, Sergeant Major,’ he replied.

  ‘Anyone who didn’t arrive by the cut-off time is ejected from the selection course.’

  Charlie nodded slowly. ‘Yes, Sergeant Major.’

  ‘The cut-off time was twenty-seven minutes ago. You weren’t even close, Grover. You and your fake legs are not up to SAS standard. Take the Land Rover back to base. You’re off the course.’

  Charlie lay his head back and closed his eyes. It was the first time in his life that he’d been beaten. And today he’d been beaten by his own legs.

  ‘Look at that view!’ Nan Fulton exclaimed as she stood with her family on the rolling green lawn of Admiralty House, gazing out over Sydney Harbour on a gloriously sunny winter’s day.

  It just so happened that the very same weekend that Ben and Caesar were in Sydney on EDD duty at the Opera House, Ben’s family was also in the harbour city. Nan had brought Josh and Maddie to attend a Childen’s Spectacular at the Entertainment Centre that night. So, when Ben received a last-minute invitation from none other than the secretary-general of the United Nations, he was pleased to bring his family along. And here they all were, with Ben in dress uniform and Caesar beside him wearing his emerald-green SOER dog jacket.

  ‘There are so many people!’ said Maddie, pressing shyly against her father and taking his hand.

  In front of them, hundreds of guests were enjoying a Sunday afternoon garden party hosted by the governor-general of Australia.

  ‘But not many kids,’ observed Josh, sounding dis­appointed. Nan had told him this outing was a great honour, but he’d rather have gone to the movies.

  ‘What a location!’ Nan went on, taking in the mansion and its grounds. ‘I could live here in a flash!’

  Historic Admiralty House was one of the most scenic locations in the world. As the Fulton family looked out, to their right the latticework of iron girders that form the Sydney Harbour Bridge rose majestically into the sky, and directly across the harbour stood the Sydney Opera House.

  Guests were seated around tables under umbrellas on the immaculately tended lawn, chattering, drinking tea and munching on sandwiches as they waited to meet the party’s guest of honour, Dr Park Chun Ho, the Korean-born secretary-general of the United Nations. The secretary-general and his family were staying at Admiralty House during the World Peace Conference, which Dr Park had opened the night before.

  Politicians and civic leaders from all over the country were in attendance, as well as selected journalists and foreign diplomats. At the specific request of the secretary-general himself, several last-minute names had been added to the guest list. After learning of the discovery of the package beneath the Man O’War Jetty, Dr Park had wanted to meet Caesar and his handler. Uniformed attendants guided the Fulton family to one of the outdoor tables, where they all took a seat. Caesar settled contentedly beside Ben in the shade, with his tongue hanging out.

  ‘Daddy, what’s a secretary-general do?’ Maddie asked. ‘Is he like a general in the army?’

  ‘The secretary-general runs the entire United Nations, sweetheart,’ Ben replied, giving Caesar a pat as he spoke.

  ‘Oh.’ Maddie thought for a moment, then asked, ‘What does the United Notions do?’

  ‘Everyone knows what the United Nations does,’ said Josh. ‘It runs the world.’

  ‘Not quite, son,’ Ben said with a smile. ‘It’s the world’s peacekeeper, and the largest humanitarian agency on the planet.’

  ‘That’s what I meant,’ said Josh.

  Maddie wanted to ask what ‘humanitarian’ meant but didn’t want Josh to make fun of her.

  Nan must have read her mind. Leaning close, she said to Maddie, ‘“Humanitarian” means looking after people, Maddie darling.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’ Maddie stored the piece of information away for later use.

  As Ben looked at his family, his thoughts drifted to his late wife, Marie, and how she would
have enjoyed a day like today. She’d died from breast cancer when the children were younger. Raising his eyes to the sky, Ben felt sure Marie was here with them all.

  While the crowd mingled, the Governor-General’s secretary conducted Dr Park and his family around the garden, introducing them to the guests at every table. When they finally approached the Fultons, everyone came to their feet. Except for Maddie, who had settled on the grass beside Caesar, her arms draped around his neck.

  Dr Park was an elegant man, tall and slim with short dark hair. He had lively eyes and a smile that lit up his face. ‘Hello, it is a great pleasure to meet you,’ he said, shaking each of them by the hand. He even bent down and shook Maddie’s hand. ‘And this must be the famous Caesar,’ he said, looking at the labrador with a smile. He turned to Ben. ‘May I pat him?’

  ‘Of course you can, sir,’ Ben replied. ‘Don’t worry, he might be a war dog, but he doesn’t bite.’

  Clearly fond of dogs, Dr Park reached out to the chocolate-brown labrador. ‘Hello, Caesar.’ To his surprise Caesar sat up like a soldier coming to attention, and held out a raised paw – a trick Charlie had taught him. Laughing, Dr Park shook Caesar’s extended paw. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you,’ he said. ‘Thank you for your good work yesterday.’

  ‘He likes you!’ Maddie exclaimed with delight.

  ‘And I like him,’ said Dr Park, straightening. ‘I imagine he is a brave and intelligent friend to you all.’

  ‘He sure is,’ Josh agreed. ‘Caesar’s the best!’

  As seats were brought over for them, Dr Park introduced his wife and daughter. Mrs Park was a pretty, petite woman with thick, shiny black hair, while Hanna Park was a dark-haired girl of about the same age and height as Josh. Hanna spoke confidently, sounding very grown-up. Her English was excellent, though she had a faint American accent that puzzled Josh, because neither Dr Park nor Mrs Park had American accents.

  The adults talked for a time about the World Peace Conference, before Dr Park looked around the table and said, ‘Would you all forgive me if I had a private word with Sergeant Fulton?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Nan, speaking for them all.

  Rising and taking Ben’s arm, Dr Park guided him away from the table.

  Caesar’s head came up as he saw Ben being led away. His eyes followed his handler, and there was a questioning expression on his face that seemed to say, Do you need me, boss?

  Ben, anticipating Caesar’s reaction to his departure, turned back to him and called firmly, ‘Caesar, stay! Stay with Maddie.’

  Caesar looked at him intently, tilting his head.

  Ben smiled. ‘It’s okay, mate, I’m not going far.’

  That seemed to satisfy Caesar, who dropped his head back onto Maddie’s lap.

  Ben and Dr Park were joined by a member of the secretary-general’s staff, a fit-looking woman in her twenties with very short hair.

  ‘Sergeant,’ said Dr Park, ‘I would like you to meet Miss Liberty Lee, my personal security adviser.’

  Ben shook hands with Liberty Lee. ‘Personal security adviser?’ he said. ‘Am I right in thinking that would make you the secretary-general’s personal bodyguard?’

  ‘Yes, that is so,’ she replied blankly. She looked at Ben intently, as if ready to spring into action at any moment.

  ‘I find “personal security adviser” sounds a little less intimidating than “bodyguard”, ’ Dr Park said with a chuckle. ‘Miss Lee was seconded to my service from the army of the Republic of Korea, my native country. She accompanies me wherever I go, to protect me.’ Then he added, with a playful twinkle in his eye, ‘And she owes you an apology, Sergeant.’

  ‘Me?’ Ben responded, surprised. ‘Why’s that?’

  Dr Park looked a little embarrassed. ‘Miss Lee is very zealous in the performance of her duties. She also has an independent and unorthodox streak. Unbeknown to me yesterday morning, Miss Lee planted a fake bomb beneath the jetty leading to the Sydney Opera House. This was the bomb so cleverly located by your dog, Caesar.’

  ‘What!’ Ben, astonished, looked from Dr Park to Liberty Lee. ‘You planted that IED? I don’t understand. Why would you?’

  ‘Miss Lee, perhaps you will explain to Sergeant Fulton,’ said the secretary-general.

  ‘Of course, Dr Park.’ Liberty turned to Ben. ‘I swam from here to the Opera House and secured the package beneath the jetty. I did this to test the Australian security measures for Dr Park’s visit,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Congratulations. You and your EDD passed the test.’ She flashed him a warm smile and, if Ben wasn’t mistaken, winked at him.

  Ben was stunned by the revelation. ‘Did my super­iors know you were doing this?’

  ‘It seems that no one knew, Sergeant,’ said Dr Park, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. ‘Not even myself. It was Miss Lee’s lone initiative. I have reprimanded her for it, and she has since explained to the police what she did and why.’

  ‘I did clear it first with Australia’s chief of security,’ Liberty explained. ‘He said I could go ahead. He was confident my pretend bomb would be found, boasting that Australia has the best explosive detection experts in the world.’ She smiled faintly at Ben. ‘You and Caesar proved him right, Sergeant.’

  ‘So what was in the package?’ Ben queried.

  ‘Only chemicals,’ said Liberty Lee. ‘The kind used in IEDs. That was what your Caesar sniffed out.’

  ‘Okay, but …’ Ben lifted his Army slouch hat and scratched his head. ‘You say you swam from here to the Opera House?’ He looked at the choppy water. ‘This is one of the busiest harbours in the world! How come you weren’t seen out there?’

  ‘I swam underwater most of the way,’ Liberty replied, like it was no big deal, ‘surfacing only occasionally.’

  ‘Underwater?’

  ‘I am a martial arts master. I can hold my breath for six minutes.’

  ‘Six minutes?’ Ben let out a low whistle. ‘That’s impressive.’

  Liberty shook her head. ‘Not really. ‘I’m told the world record for holding one’s breath is more than twenty minutes.’

  Ben raised his eyebrows. ‘Wow. Anyway, I’m just glad we passed your test.’

  She nodded. ‘You and Caesar are very good at what you do.’

  ‘As my son said, Caesar’s the best,’ Ben returned modestly.

  ‘And I am the very best at what I do … when the secretary-general will permit me to do my job to the best of my ability.’ She directed a pointed look Dr Park’s way.

  ‘There are limits to all things, Miss Lee,’ Dr Park said in a fatherly tone, ‘including the lengths to which I will permit you to go in the name of my protection.’ He took Ben’s arm once more. ‘Now that we have shared our little secret, come, let us rejoin the others.’

  While Ben had been conferring with the secretary-general, Mrs Park had been deep in conversation with Nan Fulton. And to Josh’s surprise, Hanna began talking to him. They discovered they were the same age.

  ‘How come your name is Hanna? That doesn’t sound very Korean to me.’ Josh groaned inwardly as he heard the words come out of his mouth. Why did he say that?

  ‘You obviously don’t know much about Korea,’ she replied with a teasing look. ‘Hanna is a very popular name in my country. It means flower.’

  ‘Oh.’ Josh felt like an idiot. ‘Josh is short for Joshua,’ he babbled, hurrying to cover his ignorance. ‘My mum chose that name for me.’

  ‘Where is your mum today?’ Hanna asked.

  ‘She died a few years ago.’

  ‘Oh.’ A genuine look of sympathy came over Hanna’s face. ‘I’m sorry.’ They sat there in silence, looking out at the busy harbour. ‘Sydney is such a cool place, Josh. It’s not like Korea. More like Hong Kong.’

  ‘Really? I’ve never been there.’ Josh was impressed by how well-travelled she was. ‘Why do you have an American accent?’

  ‘Because I go to school in America,’ Hanna replied. ‘We live in New York City now because
my father works at the United Nations headquarters.’

  ‘Cool.’ Josh made a note to Google it when he got home.

  ‘Do you have Facebook?’ Hanna asked.

  Josh looked a little sheepish. ‘I’m not allowed on Face­book. Dad and Nan say I’m too young.’

  ‘Oh.’ Hanna sounded disappointed. She thought for a moment, then looked at Josh triumphantly. ‘We could email each other – you’re allowed to do that, right?’

  ‘Sure I am,’ he replied, a little defensively.

  ‘Good.’ Hanna reached into her bag and took out a pen. ‘Here, give me your arm.’

  Josh shot her a quizzical look but offered her his left arm.

  Hanna wrote on the underside of Josh’s forearm. ‘That’s my email address,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘What’s yours? I’ll remember it. I go to the Stuyvesant School and I’m a member of Mensa.’

  ‘Cool.’ Josh had no idea what Mensa was other than it was another thing for him to Google. He reeled off his email address just as Ben, Dr Park and Liberty Lee returned to their table.

  ‘What were you talking about, Daddy?’ Maddie asked from where she sat on the ground with Caesar, whose tail began to wag at Ben’s return.

  Ben, uncertain of what to say, glanced at the secretary-general.

  ‘We were talking about perceptions and deceptions, my dear,’ said Dr Park, as he and Ben took seats with the group. Liberty hung back, keeping watch nearby.

  ‘Oh,’ said Maddie, none the wiser. ‘Caesar wanted to know, that’s all.’

  ‘You know, I think that Caesar is a very good name for a military dog,’ Dr Park said. ‘The same name as a famous and very clever general of ancient Rome.’

  Even Caesar was paying attention to the secretary-general as he spoke, sensing that there was something special about this man.

  Ben nodded. ‘I have told Josh and Maddie the same thing, sir, about Julius Caesar.’

  Dr Park grinned. ‘Very good. Then, Josh, Maddie, permit me to tell you a story about a Korean general from long, long ago who was as clever as Julius Caesar.’