Wardogs

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I get a broken plank of wood and make up my own official 'Kennels' sign. It reads 'Arms Explosive Search Dog Hunter', below which is a sketch of a dog's paw, with '104 MWDSU' beneath that the 104 Military Working Dog Support Unit. I also get a makeshift sign printed up on a sheet of paper, which I tack to our outer door.

It reads: Please do not feed or touch the dog. He bites quite hard and it hurts!!

Whilst building the inner dividing wall I've been using a lock knife to saw through the HESCO. I'm putting the final touches to it when the knife springs back, slicing deep into my finger. It's not just any old finger that's been left half hanging off: it's my trigger finger.

I go to see the Bravo Company medic and he tells me that I need stitches. I hate needles. He injects me with the painkiller, and he's barely started to sew me up when I faint. I drop like a stone onto the hard-packed dirt of the medical building and I'm out cold. Meanwhile, the medic is laughing his rocks off at this big, tough dog handler who faints at the sight of blood.

I return to the kennel with my hand swathed in bandages. I see Hunter giving me the eye: What have you done there, Dad? I leave you for five minutes to make me a kennel, and this is how you end up...

Before I can declare the new kennel officially open, I need the Bravo Company padre to come and give it his blessing. I tell him that Hunter and I have been out on two patrols so far, and both times we've had near misses. He finds it funny that I want a kennel blessed but I really do want him to give our quarters the once-over.

He throws some holy water around the walls, and as he does so he mumbles some prayers for Hunter and me to be kept safe, both here and out there in the badlands. He makes the sign of the cross at various junctures, and I can hear him muttering softly.

In the name of the Father I bless this kennel... In the name of the Father I bless this kennel... May the Lord keep all those who serve in her safe from any harm...

With the kennel blessed, I move Hunter in. I can tell that he's much happier in his new digs. He's got this look on his face like he can't wait to invite Jihad over for some quality face time.

I place my camp cot, my DVD player and my spare uniforms in the other half of the kennel, and that's it for me. Just across the dividing wall is Hunter's domain. To the front are Hunter's food bins and his meal preparation area. To one side of the kennel building I've constructed a seating and brew area - the chairs made of sandbags, the table from an upturned wooden door. I've got Sly, my favourite Afghan terp, to go into town and buy me a tin kettle. Sly's got long, dark straggly hair, and he figures he's a real ladies' man. We tease him that he looks like Sylvester Stallone, hence the nickname. Sly loves it. It never seems to occur to him that we might be taking the piss.

I've made a fire pit in the chill-out area so I can light up some hexy fuel blocks - British Army cooking fuel very similar to firelighters - and get the kettle on. I know we're going to get a lot of visitors here in the new kennel. Soldiers love nothing more than a bit of chill time with a dog. They start talking about their dogs back home, and that reminds them that there is a normal, sane life outside the madness of war.

I decide I'm going to get each visitor to sign my makeshift table with a black marker, or to carve their name into it. It'll be the Sangin kennel tradition, and it'll help while away the hours.

Luckily, my folks have been in touch with a coffee company local to my home town, and Bob - my Dad - has convinced them to donate a job lot of their gourmet-blend coffee to my war effort. I've brought rakes of the stuff with me, and just as soon as word goes around that I've got it I know I'll get inun dated with visitors.

Our makeshift kennel done, I put in a request to Sergeant Major Frank Holmes, our second-in-command at Camp Bastion, for a portable kennel system to be dropped out to us. The 104 has these steel shipping containers that have been converted into field kennels. They come complete with air conditioning, and it's the promise of the air con and the chance to cool my dog that I most want for Hunter.

Whilst I've been making the kennel, the 104 has sent a new handler and dog team out to join us, but they're a patrol dog team, one trained purely to do security. Their job is to patrol a base to stop any would-be intruders. I've been so busy constructing the kennel that I've spent precious little time with them. It's only when the wound to my finger forces me to stop, that I take a moment to visit the Bravo Company OC to see what use he's been making of them.

Major Cheeseman doesn't particularly seem to want the new dog team here. He argues that he's not much in need of a patrol dog. What he does want - and what I requested - is a second AES team getting out on patrol. I arrange for John Allison, the young handler, and his dog to get returned to Bastion. I do so reluctantly, because I know young John doesn't want to go. He wants to feel that he's being used at the cutting edge of war.