Caesar the War Dog

by Stephen Dando-Collins

  There were still months of training ahead, during which it might prove that Caesar was not cut out for war dog work, just as the manager of Huntingdon Kennels had said. Ben was determined to prove the manager wrong and to prove that Caesar had what it took to be a war dog. Ben knew that every dog, like every human, is different, and Caesar’s future with the army would be all up to Caesar. Still, right now, that future was looking good.

  War dog training school began the next week. Caesar and Ben were among six dogs and six handlers assigned to the army sniffer dog school’s training course for EDDs, or explosive detection dogs. The first part of the course would last two weeks, and would focus on dog and handler partnering skills. By the time the course began, Caesar’s puffed-up nose had returned to normal, and he looked a much more handsome labrador than when Ben first saw him. The other dogs were a variety of breeds. But all were large, energetic animals that enjoyed working with humans, and were about the same age as Caesar.

  Dogs mature very quickly, then age more slowly as they grow older. So, a two-year-old dog like Caesar was at his physical best, was alert and confident, and was learning all the time. The first week of his army basic training involved obedience. Even though Caesar had been well trained at the Huntingdon Kennels, the school’s instructors wanted to see how well a dog bonded with its new master, and how well it obeyed that master’s instructions.

  That very first week, one of the dogs was expelled from the training course for disobedience. It occurred during an exercise where all six dogs were made to sit in a row, two metres apart from one another. To begin with, the handlers stood beside their dogs. Then, instructing their dog to ‘sit’, and then ‘stay’, Ben and the other handlers walked away without looking back and disappeared over the lip of a small rise. For thirty minutes, the dogs were left there, sitting in a row. But after twenty minutes, one dog, a blue heeler, became bored, and, getting up, went trotting away to sniff in the long grass, looking for something interesting to chase.

  Ignoring the blue heeler, Caesar and the other remaining dogs stayed obediently where they were. Ten minutes later, their handlers reappeared and walked toward them. But even then, the dogs were expected to remain perfectly still. Ben and the other handlers returned to their positions beside their dogs and waited another minute until the chief instructor, Sergeant Angelo, loudly called, ‘Fall out!’

  Full of pride for Caesar and his good behaviour, Ben knelt beside him, gave him a vigorous pat and a cuddle, and praised him. ‘Good boy, Caesar! Good boy!’

  Caesar loved to please Ben, and loved praise. It didn’t really matter what words Ben used to praise him. All dogs can sense from the tone of the human voice whether we’re pleased with them or not. If Ben had said ‘Good boy, Caesar’, but in an angry tone, Caesar would have sensed that he was being scolded, and would have reacted accordingly. While Caesar knew straightaway whether Ben was pleased with him from his tone, he also came to associate the term ‘good dog’ with praise, and recognise that Ben thought he’d performed well. Praise is the best reward for any good dog, but during training Ben also gave Caesar a dog biscuit as a special reward for passing difficult tests like this one. As for the blue heeler, he was sent back to the kennels he came from. A good home would be found for him – but not with the army.

  In the second week of training, Caesar and the four remaining dogs on the course were sent through obstacle courses: running along narrow tree trunks, through pipes and over walls on their handlers’ command. All five dogs passed this test with flying colours.

  Next, each handler stood a distance from their dog and fired a starting pistol into the air, with the dog expected to sit and not move when the gun went off. Caesar and the other dogs all passed this first stage of the important noise tests – a series of tests that would become more and more intense as the dogs were prepared for battlefield conditions. Dogs have much more sensitive hearing than humans and don’t like loud noises. In fact, dogs can be panicked by a sudden, sharp noise, and many will instinctively run from it. But a well-disciplined dog will tolerate noise if it is with a master it trusts, a master who himself clearly isn’t put off by the noise.

  After the initial noise tests, the dogs walked with their handlers toward soldiers firing assault rifles into the air, to get them accustomed to the noise of automatic weapons going off. Then, on a firing range, the handlers themselves fired rifles and machineguns with their dogs tethered to their belts, sitting or lying beside them. Caesar took all these weapon noise tests in his stride. When Ben fired his gun, Caesar simply lay down beside him with his jaw on the ground, looking up at Ben as if wondering what on earth he was doing.

  As their training moved to the next phase, the dogs were taken to a helicopter landing pad and made to sit with their handlers as helicopters landed and took off nearby. In combat situations, war dogs are generally fitted with special earmuffs to dampen the noise of weapons and machines, but first Caesar and the other dogs in his class had to pass the test without earmuffs. And they all did.

  Caesar and the four other dogs came through all the noise tests, but a Belgian shepherd didn’t reach the end of the course. As a sheepdog, its natural tendency was to round up things, herding them by circling them and nipping at their heels, forcing them to go in a particular direction. This Belgian shepherd – a large, fit dog – had once or twice nipped at the other dogs on the course during the two weeks, but on the last day, when it nipped the heels of an instructor, its fate was sealed. As a sniffer dog has to live and work with other dogs and with soldiers, Sergeant Angelo decided that this Belgian shepherd would be better at guard work, and sent him off to the air force dog school, which trains dogs to guard air bases.

  Four dogs passed this two-week basic training part of the course at Holsworthy, and Caesar was one of them. In fact, the instructors told Ben that Caesar was one of the best dogs on the course, if not the best. With seventeen weeks of specialist sniffer training now ahead of them, Ben brought Caesar home for the weekend. Once again, Josh showed no interest in Caesar, and played computer games in his bedroom while Maddie played with the brown labrador in the garden.

  The Fultons had a special visitor that weekend. His name was Charles Grover, but everyone called him Charlie, and he was Ben’s best friend. Charlie and Ben had gone to school together and, years later, had joined the army together. While Ben had set his sights on becoming a dog handler, Charlie had always wanted to join the Special Air Service Regiment, or SAS, the elite special forces unit, whose motto is ‘Who Dares Wins’. Both men had ultimately achieved their ambitions, with Charlie now a sergeant with the SAS. Charlie didn’t have much family of his own, and he’d spent so much time with Ben and his family over the years that Josh and Maddie had come to think of him as an uncle.

  Very tall, straight as a lamppost, and not as broad as Ben, Charlie had a slow, deliberate way of talking and of acting. Nothing flustered Charlie. To him, problems were always opportunities in disguise. A private man, Charlie didn’t make friends as easily as Ben, which only made his firm friendship with Ben and the Fulton family all the more special to him. By contrast, Charlie and the friendly Caesar had become mates within minutes of Charlie’s arrival, and Caesar soon had Charlie throwing tennis balls and an old sandshoe for him to fetch.

  ‘Lunch is ready!’ Nan called a little later, and Charlie joined the Fulton family inside for lunch, leaving Caesar in the backyard to amuse himself.

  ‘Are you going away again soon, Charlie?’ Josh asked as they ate. Josh knew that Charlie went away on special missions, just like his dad.

  ‘Roger to that, Josh,’ Charlie replied. As Josh knew, ‘Roger to that’ was army talk for ‘yes’.

  ‘Where are you going this time?’

  ‘Can’t tell you where, except that it’s really hot there in summer and freezing cold in winter.’

  ‘That narrows it down to about half the world,’ said Josh, with a smile. ‘I bet it’s Afghanistan,’ he added. ‘A lot of the dads of army kids
at my school are in Afghanistan, or have been there.’

  Charlie shrugged apologetically. ‘Can’t tell you, mate, sorry. SAS movements are top secret.’

  ‘Are you and my daddy sometimes soldiers in the same place, Charlie?’ Maddie now asked.

  ‘Sometimes we are, Maddie,’ he returned.

  ‘Good,’ said Maddie, with a firm nod, and waving her knife airily about. ‘That means you can look after Daddy while he’s away.’

  Charlie grinned. ‘I’ll do my best, Maddie,’ he said. ‘And he’ll look after me.’

  ‘Just like we’ve always looked after each other, ever since we were kids,’ said Ben, and he and Charlie clinked their glasses together.

  ‘Mates forever,’ said Charlie.

  After lunch, as Ben and Charlie helped Nan with the washing up, Nan glanced out the kitchen window and a look of horror came over her face. ‘My roses!’ she exclaimed. ‘What has that dog done?’

  Ben, looking out the window to see what his mother saw, groaned, ‘Oh, no!’ Putting down the plate he’d been drying, Ben opened the back door and stormed out into the yard. ‘Caesar!’ he growled unhappily.

  Caesar was hard at work in a flowerbed, digging a hole with his paws, and having a great time. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just following interesting scents in the earth. Around him were another half-dozen holes he’d already dug, uprooting a rosebush, and this latest hole was half a metre deep. Hearing his master’s voice and his angry tone, Caesar stopped digging and looked around.

  ‘Come away from there!’ called Ben. ‘Bad dog, Caesar. Bad dog!’

  Caesar’s ears immediately dropped. His head lowered. Both were signs of a dog that knew he was being scolded. Caesar trotted over to Ben, stopping in front of his master with his pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He cocked his head to one side and looked up at Ben as if to say, What’s the problem, boss?

  ‘Bad dog!’ said Ben, standing with his hands on his hips. ‘You do not dig, Caesar. No digging!’

  Looking past Ben, Caesar saw Maddie through the opening of the glass sliding door. Hoping to get a better reception from her, he bounded into the kitchen.

  ‘Get outside with your dirty paws!’ cried Nan. ‘You naughty, naughty dog!’

  Caesar, surprised and a little confused, quickly spun around and went trotting back out into the yard with his head down and tail low.

  ‘Caesar, sit!’ Ben commanded.

  Caesar promptly sat. As Ben walked up to him and stood glaring down at him, Caesar looked guiltily away to the side, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘You – do – not – dig – up – the – garden,’ said Ben, stressing every word with a wag of the finger.

  Caesar’s head dropped a little lower.

  ‘You know I like dogs, Ben,’ said Nan, who had come outside with Charlie and Maddie to inspect the scene of Caesar’s misdemeanour. ‘But I love my roses.’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said Ben, feeling responsible for the damage to the roses.

  ‘I’m not sure this dog is going to meet your expectations, Ben,’ said Nan unhappily. ‘You can’t have a sniffer dog digging holes when he’s supposed to be sniffing out explosives. Dodger never dug up the garden.’

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ agreed Charlie, who had known Dodger well.

  ‘I know, I know,’ said Ben. ‘Huntingdon Kennels warned me Caesar was a digger. I’ll just have to train it out of him.’ He looked down at Caesar again, as the bemused labrador sat returning his gaze. Despite Caesar’s digging habit, Ben still felt this brown dog had great potential. ‘He’s got everything else going for him – the temperament of a labrador and the superior intelligence of his German shepherd grandfather.’

  ‘A German shepherd is smarter than a lab?’ said Charlie with surprise.

  ‘It’s true,’ Ben replied. ‘Labradors are only rated the seventh most intelligent breed of dog. German shepherds are the third most intelligent.’

  ‘Then why choose a labrador for your army work?’ said Nan. ‘Why not get a German shepherd instead of Caesar?’

  ‘German shepherds bark too much,’ Ben replied, with a shake of the head. ‘That’s why they make such good guard dogs. They raise the alarm and scare the living daylights out of intruders, whereas labradors rarely bark – have any of you heard Caesar bark even once this weekend?’

  ‘No, Daddy,’ Maddie spoke up. ‘Caesar hasn’t barked once.’

  Caesar was, meanwhile, watching them all talk, his head turning to each of them in turn when they spoke his name.

  ‘You can’t have a dog barking at every stranger it sees when it’s supposed to be sniffing out explosives,’ Ben continued. ‘And while German shepherds can be intensely loyal, they’re only loyal to one master. An explosive detection dog has to serve with groups of soldiers for long periods of time. In that sort of situation, German shepherds have been known to nip other soldiers in the group if they think their space, or their master’s space, is being infringed. A lab like Caesar here will be mates with every man in a platoon.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Charlie. ‘But if a labrador like Caesar here is only the seventh most intelligent, why not use a smarter breed, other than a German shepherd? Which dogs are the most intelligent of all?’

  ‘Number one is the border collie, followed by the poodle.’

  Nan laughed. ‘A poodle? Second most intelligent? I can’t exactly see a fussy little poodle going to war.’

  ‘I wouldn’t write them off just on appearances, Mum. Poodles were actually bred as hunting dogs by the kings of France,’ Ben said, with a smile. ‘But poodles and border collies don’t have the stamina for our line of work. Besides, they can be too clever, too self-willed. On the other hand, a well-trained lab like Caesar here will obey his master through thick and thin.’ Kneeling beside Caesar, Ben began to clean the dirt from his front paws.

  Caesar, hoping that this was a sign he’d been forgiven, licked his master on the mouth, making Ben laugh and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. He couldn’t stay angry with Caesar. ‘You are a silly boy,’ Ben said, grinning and fondling Caesar’s ears. ‘But we’ll have to get you out of that digging habit, my furry friend. You don’t want to be rejected by the army like that dopey blue heeler the other day, do you?’ Caesar nuzzled in against Ben’s chest, seeking more reassurance that Ben had forgiven him, and Ben’s heart ached. He had quickly grown fond of this cheeky brown mutt.

  ‘Just keep him away from my roses!’ Nan urged, as she headed back indoors.

  ‘Can you train the digging out of him, Ben?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I’ll have to,’ Ben firmly replied, ‘if Caesar and I are to have a future together.’

  The next afternoon, Charlie prepared to say goodbye to the Fultons after spending the weekend with them. He was wearing his army uniform now, complete with a sandy-coloured beret emblazoned with the dagger emblem of the SAS. He had spent an hour playing computer games with Josh that morning. Josh loved playing computer games with Charlie, who was a skilled player, and because Charlie let Josh win half the time. Josh’s gleeful yells, groans and laughter could be heard all the way down in the living room, where Ben and Nan exchanged smiles – it was good to hear Josh enjoying himself for the first time since the family had lost Dodger.

  As Josh and Charlie were finishing up, Maddie came wandering in. Caesar ambled in behind her, curiously sniffing all the new smells of Josh’s room.

  ‘Can I play?’ Maddie asked.

  ‘No, you’re too young,’ said Josh, with a frown. ‘And get that stupid dog out of my room.’

  ‘Come on, Caesar,’ said Maddie, taking hold of Caesar’s collar and tugging him from the room. ‘Computer games are stupid, anyway!’

  Charlie watched them leave, then turned to Josh with a questioning look. ‘You don’t like Caesar?’

  ‘We had a good dog. We had Dodger.’

  ‘But Dodger’s gone, Josh.’

  ‘Only because my dad killed him.’

  �
��That’s not fair, mate,’ said Charlie. ‘Your dad didn’t want to put Dodger down – it was the last thing he wanted. Dodger and your dad were a team. But Dodger wasn’t well, and your dad did the compassionate thing by putting Dodger out of his misery.’

  Josh looked at Charlie with tears forming in his eyes. ‘But I miss Dodger so much.’

  Charlie put an arm around Josh. ‘We all miss the old Dodger, mate – your dad most of all. But he has a job to do, just like I have, and that’s why he’s got Caesar now.’

  ‘I would have looked after Dodger if Dad had brought him home instead of telling the vet to kill him.’

  Charlie shook his head. ‘After his stroke, Dodger had to be carried everywhere. You couldn’t have been with him every minute of every day, Josh. You have to go to school. It would have been cruel to bring Dodger home in that condition, then leave him all alone.’

  ‘I still don’t think it was fair,’ said Josh, snuffling up his tears.

  ‘Some things in life aren’t fair, mate. But your dad did the right thing, believe me. He put Dodger first. Sometimes, Josh, we have to put others before ourselves, and make sacrifices for the sake of others. To do that is the mark of a man of courage and compassion.’

  Outside the door to Josh’s bedroom, Ben had paused to listen, and smiled to himself as he heard Charlie’s wise words. He opened the door gently and walked into the room. ‘Time that Charlie hit the road,’ he said, giving Josh a sympathetic smile. ‘He has an overseas flight to catch tonight.’

  So, Charlie bade farewell to the Fultons, with hugs all around, reserving his last goodbye for Caesar. Bending down and giving the cheerful labrador a pat, Charlie whispered, ‘Now, you be a good dog for Ben, Caesar, and pass your training course. Then, maybe one day, we’ll see each other on deployment somewhere.’