Caesar the War Dog 2

by Stephen Dando-Collins

  ‘What will the light conditions be at the time of the drop?’ Renzo asked.

  ‘It will be early morning, Afghanistan time, sir. With no moon.’

  ‘No moon?’ said Ellerman, sounding a little worried. ‘Pitch-black?’

  ‘Yes, sir. You won’t be able to see the sub once you are in the water, unless you come down right on top of it, and that’s about as likely as me scoring a Super Bowl touchdown. So, we’ve fixed a transmitter to the sub’s conning tower, and you’ll both have GPS homing devices on your belts. Just follow the beeps and you’ll find the sub.’ Staff Sergeant Kramer glanced at the luminous dial on her wristwatch. ‘If you have any more questions, sirs, can I ask you to hold them until we’re in the air? We need to take off. We’ll only just make it to the lake while it’s still dark.’

  Renzo nodded. ‘We can’t risk a daylight drop. The bad guys will see us coming.’

  The three of them moved further into the bowels of the aircraft and strapped themselves to the webbed seating running along the fuselage wall. As they did, the end of the C-17’s rear ramp began to rise and the aircraft’s four Pratt and Whitney jet engines began to whine into life. The initial air phase of Operation Blue Dragon was officially underway. Ellerman gave Renzo a smile and the thumbs up. Renzo nodded and smiled weakly, and reassured himself that, despite Chief Brogan’s doubts about the Pencil’s readiness and his own lack of parachuting experience, this op was going to be as easy as a walk in the park.

  Walking home from school, Josh and his best friend, Baxter Chung, were talking about the new computer game Baxter’s parents had given him that was about soldiers and high-tech warfare. The pair was so wrapped up in their conversation, neither boy noticed that they were being followed.

  ‘Hey, Dog Boy!’ came a familiar voice.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Josh groaned. ‘Not again.’ Only the night before, Josh had received another bullying email from Kelvin Corbett. ‘Speed up, Baxter!’ he urged.

  Baxter looked back over his shoulder as they walked. ‘What do you want, Kelvin?’ said Baxter.

  ‘I wasn’t talking to you, Baxter,’ Kelvin retorted. ‘I’m talking to your friend there, the one with the famous blunder dog. Not a wonder dog, a blunder dog. Get it?’ He laughed hysterically at his own joke.

  ‘Not funny, Kelvin,’ said Josh, half to himself.

  ‘Go away, Kelvin,’ said Baxter, hurrying to keep up with Josh. ‘I wish I hadn’t given you Josh’s email address.’

  Josh looked around at him in surprise. ‘You gave him my email address?’

  Baxter winced. ‘Sorry, Josh. He gave me Fight Master in exchange for it, and I’ve been wanting to play that game for ages. It’s really good.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have given away my email address without my permission,’ Josh said angrily. Ahead, a police car had pulled up at the red light at the next intersection. The sight inspired Josh’s next thought, which he aired out loud. ‘That should be a crime, giving away someone’s private information. The police should be able to arrest people for that.’

  ‘I said I was sorry, Josh,’ Baxter said guiltily, lowering his head.

  When they reached the intersection, Josh dropped his heavy backpack to the kerb to take some weight off, and both boys looked around to check where their tormentor was. To their joint relief, Kelvin was walking away in the opposite direction.

  Baxter smiled. ‘The police car probably scared him off.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Josh nodded glumly. He lifted his backpack and walked on in silence, unable to shake the feeling of betrayal.

  The pair parted without a word at the next inter­section, each headed for his own home. Josh had just rounded another corner when Kelvin stepped out from behind a hedge, right in front of him. Kelvin was breathing hard as if he’d been running. Folding his arms and planting his feet, he blocked Josh’s way.

  Josh came to an abrupt halt, his heart pounding in his chest. ‘Where’d you come from?’

  ‘Around the back way,’ Kelvin replied smugly.

  ‘Will you just stop picking on me, Kelvin!’ said Josh. Built-up frustration made him want to scream it. He just didn’t know what to do to stop Kelvin bugging him.

  ‘What’ll you give me to leave you alone?’ Kelvin sneered.

  ‘I don’t know! Just leave me alone!’

  ‘Let’s see what’ve you got in there.’ Kelvin reached out and snatched the backpack from Josh’s shoulder.

  ‘Let go!’ Josh cried, trying to retrieve his backpack.

  But Kelvin, being taller, held it out of Josh’s reach. ‘I think I’ll keep this, Dog Boy.’

  ‘That’s mine,’ Josh protested. ‘Give it back!’

  Kelvin leered at him. ‘Make me!’

  ‘You’re a thief,’ Josh said, close to tears.

  ‘If you say anything,’ said Kelvin, walking away with Josh’s backpack, ‘I’ll say you gave it to me. It’ll be your word against mine, Dog Boy. Ha!’

  In the cool of the dawn, Ben stood outside his shipping container quarters at FOB Nero with Caesar lying at his feet. He took out his mobile phone and dialled his Holsworthy home number. Getting the engaged signal, he rang Nan Fulton’s mobile number instead.

  ‘Hello, I can’t take your call right now,’ came Nan’s recorded voice. Ben held the phone down to Caesar’s ear as Nan went on. ‘If you leave a message after the beep, I’ll get back to you when I can. Bye, and thanks for calling.’

  Hearing this, and recognising Nan’s voice, Caesar let out a little whimper and put his feet up on Ben’s chest, trying to get closer to the phone as Ben stood up again.

  Grinning, Ben ruffled Caesar’s neck, and left a message. ‘Hi Josh. Hi Maddie. Hi Mum. It’s Caesar and me. We both miss you heaps. We’re about to go on an op, so we’ll be out of contact for a while. Don’t worry if you don’t hear from us for a few days. We love you. See you soon.’

  Ben slipped his phone into his pocket. Putting his rifle over his right shoulder and hoisting his heavy military backpack onto the left, Ben led Caesar to join Charlie and the other Sky Team members who were assembled beside the heelo pad. They all looked to the southeast where the black shape of a Chinook helicopter could be seen growing larger with each passing second, silhouetted by the rising sun. Sky Team’s ride back to Tarin Kowt was about to land.

  Putting his backpack on the ground and dropping to one knee, Ben pulled out Caesar’s doggles and puppy Peltors. Caesar’s tail began wagging vigorously with anticipation. The questioning look on his face seemed to say, Time for work, boss?

  ‘Yes, we’re off on a mission, mate,’ Ben said with a smile, giving his partner a pat. ‘There’s lots of work for us ahead.’

  As the noise of the Chinook’s engines met his ears, Ben leapt to his feet and hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders.

  Josh burst through the front door and headed straight for his bedroom. Maddie looked up from where she sat on the sofa watching TV. That was unlike him, she thought. Josh usually went into the kitchen to say hello to Nan when he arrived home from school. Frowning to herself, Maddie got up and followed after him. ‘Joshie,’ she called. She found Josh’s bedroom door closed. ‘Joshie, are you okay?’

  ‘Go away!’ he responded.

  Maddie opened the door to find Josh sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. ‘Where’s your backpack, Joshie? Is it outside?’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ Josh murmured into his hands.

  ‘But where is it?’

  ‘I lost it, okay!’ Josh yelled. ‘Go away!’

  Not used to Josh shouting at her, Maddie’s bottom lip trembled. Turning and running from the room, Maddie bellowed, ‘Nan! Josh has lost his backpack!’

  ‘No, don’t tell Nan, Maddie!’ Josh yelled after her.

  But it was too late. Maddie had already reached the kitchen, where Nan was on the phone.

  ‘What’s that, Maddie?’ said Nan. ‘Josh has what?’

  ‘Lost his backpack!’ Maddie replied, wide-eyed. ‘With all his t
hings in it!’

  Nan ended her call and, in a flash, was on her feet and headed for Josh’s room. She found him where Maddie had left him, sitting disconsolately on his bed.

  Nan softened at the sight of him so upset. ‘Josh,’ she said gently, ‘what’s this about your backpack?’

  ‘I lost it,’ he glumly answered.

  Nan sat down beside him and placed a reassuring hand on his back. ‘How?’

  Josh looked up at her and shrugged. ‘I just did.’

  ‘Where did you lose it?’ Nan prompted.

  Josh paused. ‘Um, on the way home from school.’

  ‘And how did you lose it?’ Nan asked.

  ‘It just sort of vanished.’ Josh smiled weakly.

  Nan gave him a pointed look. ‘Josh, I wasn’t born yesterday.’

  ‘I never said you were, Nan,’ Josh replied sheepishly.

  ‘You don’t just lose things.’

  ‘I do sometimes,’ Maddie said quietly from the doorway.

  Nan smiled at Maddie’s attempt to support her brother, then turned back to Josh. ‘Did someone take your backpack from you? Other boys from school, maybe?’

  Josh pulled a pained expression. He didn’t want to admit that he, the son of a soldier, had allowed Kelvin to take his bag. And he didn’t want Nan to cause a fuss at school either.

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Josh Fulton,’ Nan said sternly. ‘No matter what, I’d like to hear the truth.’

  Inside Deep Cave, Commander Baradar and his men had made a comfortable camp for themselves a hundred metres from the landward entrance. They had mattresses spread on the hard ground and a cooking fire from which smoke curled up into the rocky ceiling. At the mouth of the cave, around a bend from their encampment, the insurgents had heaped boulders to create a wall two metres high, where they could offer a defence if attacked.

  Twenty-two fighters from the Taliban’s Uruzgan brigade spent their days here. In rotating shifts, two men were constantly stationed on a hilltop several hundred metres away. They were responsible for keeping watch on the cave entrance and warning of any approaches – especially by government troops, Afghan police or ISAF soldiers. Commander Baradar would check in with this sentry outpost several times a day via walkie-talkie.

  Baradar had just just received confirmation from the sentries that all was clear when something strange occurred. Sitting on his mattress, reading a copy of the Holy Koran by the light of a gas lantern, Abdul Razah removed his round cap to scratch his greasy head. As he did this, a small cylindrical object half the size of a cigarette tumbled from his hat and fell to the floor.

  The small movement caught Baradar’s eye. ‘What is that?’ he demanded. Moving closer, he picked up the piece of metal. Being an experienced insurgent and guerrilla fighter, Baradar knew at once what it was. ‘A homing device!’ he exclaimed with sudden anxiety. ‘You had a homing device in your headwear, Abdul Razah!’

  Abdul, open-mouthed, looked with disbelief at the device in his superior’s hand. ‘How did that get there?’

  ‘That’s what I’m asking you, you imbecile!’ Baradar raged. ‘What is the meaning of this?!’

  Abdul had told no one of his arrest by ISAF troops on the road back from Bamiyan. Nor had he told them that he had been held at FOB Nero for a number of hours before he made his escape. He had lied to Baradar, blaming his extended absence on a delay in Bamiyan. With the discovery of the homing device, he had no choice but to admit what had taken place.

  When Commander Baradar heard that Abdul had been in the hands of ISAF, he was furious. And concerned. ‘You have led the infidels to us!’ he stormed.

  ‘They cannot know that we have the secretary-general here, Commander,’ said Abdul Razah, trying to placate him. ‘How do they know that it is not just myself here in these caves?’

  Baradar dropped the tracking device to the rocky floor and ground the device flat with the heel of his boot, destroying it. ‘I curse the infidels!’ he raged.

  Abdul cowered, afraid of what Commander Baradar might do.

  After a moment Commander Baradar grew thoughtful. ‘But do they know who we are guarding, or do they not?’ he said slowly. ‘This is the question.’

  Perspiring heavily, Ben Fulton stood in the Special Forces hangar beside the Tarin Kowt runway. Though the night was cooling fast, it had been a fiercely hot day in Uruzgan Province. Ben was wearing a black balaclava over his head and polypropylene thermal underwear beneath black combat fatigues. That underwear, made from the same plastic material as Australia’s world-first polymer banknotes, was designed to keep its wearer warm.

  Ben would need the thermal underwear once Operation Blue Dragon was underway, first at high altitude, and later in the chilly waters of Dragon Lake. But at the moment it was downright uncomfortable. Caesar was beside him, busy eating a tasty steak dinner from a tin bowl. A camp cook had brought the food and bowl out to the hangar for him especially. Caesar didn’t need thermal underwear. His thick, greasy fur would keep him warm no matter what the altitude, in and out of water.

  Ben wore black from head to foot. A black flying helmet, the kind worn by combat pilots, complete with an oxygen mask. Black combat trousers. Black tunic. Bulging black equipment pouches on a black webbing belt. Black bulletproof vest. A black life preserver that could be inflated in water with the pull of a tab. And a small oxygen bottle in a black rectangular pack strapped to the front of his vest. A compact Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun was slung over his right shoulder.

  Black was the colour that Special Forces troops universally wore on night missions in order to blend into the darkness. On his cheeks, Ben had smeared black Special Ops make-up, which looked like greasy charcoal, so they wouldn’t be visible in the dark. Caesar also wore his own black combat gear. A made-to-fit Kevlar vest covered his back and chest while his black doggles sat on the top of his head.

  Sergeant Bruce, the Scottish commando who was now a member of Sky Team, came over to chat with Ben. He, too, was dressed all in black. ‘He’s a fine looking laddie, your Caesar,’ said Bruce. ‘And he looks a hoot in those doggles! He reminds me of Brodie, the dog I had at home in Dundee when I was a wee boy.’ He dropped to one knee beside Caesar.

  ‘Don’t try patting him while he’s eating,’ Ben cau­- tioned. ‘Never come between a dog and his tucker.’

  Sergeant Bruce nodded. ‘Aye, you’re right – my terrier, Brodie, would nip at me, too, if there was food involved.’ He stood up again. ‘Your Caesar is a very smart dog, so they tell me, Ben.’

  Looking down at Caesar as he ate, Ben smiled. ‘Smarter than a lot of humans.’

  ‘And yet labradors aren’t rated the most intelligent of dogs, are they? Border collies from Scotland are the most intelligent of all the breeds, are they not?’ The Scotsman smiled cheekily.

  Ben nodded good-naturedly. ‘Labs rate seventh most intelligent, but their loyalty, courage and tenacity under fire make them top military dogs.’ Ben took a black laptop from his backpack and turned it on for testing.

  ‘Why is it, I wonder,’ said Bruce as he checked the equipment on his belt, ‘that some dogs have those qualities while others, even of the same breed, will run for their lives at the first explosion?’

  ‘You know,’ said Ben, as he waited for his computer to boot, ‘there was an experiment at the University of Sydney to test a theory of Professor Sally McShane’s that some dogs, like some humans, have courage, loyalty and tenacity in their genes. Caesar took part in that experiment with a bunch of other dogs.’

  ‘How did they test them?’ asked Sergeant Bruce, slapping a full magazine into his rifle.

  ‘It was all about the way they eat.’

  Angus frowned. ‘The way they eat?’

  Ben nodded to the labrador. ‘Look at Caesar now. Look at the way he’s holding his bowl in place with his right paw.’

  Sergeant Bruce looked down. Sure enough, Caesar was using his right paw to prevent the bowl from sliding over the concrete floor. ‘Aye,’ said Angus, ‘w
hat of it?’

  Holding the laptop in one hand, Ben opened his operational program. ‘Professor McShane worked out that dogs that use their right paw to hold the food container are left-brain oriented. And the left brain is all about courage and tenacity. She said that dogs that mostly use their left paws like that are right-brained and are more emotional and flighty.’

  ‘Left-brained and right-brained dogs?’ Sergeant Bruce pulled a face. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘I think there are stupid dogs and clever dogs, just as there are stupid people and clever people.’

  ‘The professor would disagree with you, mate,’ Ben said, before turning his full attention to the laptop. When he was satisfied that it was good to go, he shut it down.

  ‘You blokes set?’ Charlie asked, walking across the hangar from where the other members of Sky Team had assembled. Charlie was accompanied by Major Jinko, who’d come to see the team off.

  ‘Just about,’ said Ben, returning the laptop to his backpack. ‘Just waiting for Caesar to finish his dinner.’

  Major Jinko was carrying a green canvas carry bag, which he held open in front of Ben and Sergeant Bruce. ‘Mobile phones please, gentlemen.’

  Without a word, Ben and Sergeant Bruce took their phones from their pockets and dropped them into the bag, which already contained the phones of other team members. For security reasons, they weren’t permitted to take private phones on ops. They would collect them on their return from the mission.

  ‘As soon as Caesar’s fed, Ben,’ said Charlie, ‘we’ll have our final briefing.’

  Ben nodded. ‘We’re off soon, then?’

  ‘The C-17 carrying the Pencil has picked up a tailwind and is making good time,’ said Major Jinko. ‘It’ll be over the target on schedule or even a little early. And the met people say the weather over Dragon Lake is perfect for insertion – clear skies and low wind. Operation Blue Dragon is “go”.’

  Ben smiled. ‘The sooner the better, sir. Caesar loves parachute jumps.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s a HALO junkie,’ Charlie agreed.

  ‘Can Caesar swim?’ asked Sergeant Bruce, half-jokingly. ‘We’re dropping into a lake, remember.’