Wardogs

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I'd always seen myself as being a very 'manly' kind of bloke, and this just didn't feel right somehow. Dave Heyhoe was half the man that he'd thought he was. And that in turn made the lads from the 104 - Ken, Dan and Pere - even more like my family. And as for Hunter, he's like the son that I'll never have.

It's typical of the cheek of those lads that even on the Chinook ride out to Sangin, they were still winding me up. 'Sangin's nothing more than Blackpool with a b****y river running through it.

'Enjoy your holiday by the water whilst we get the murder postings!'

'Hope you packed your suntan lotion and your lilo?

I volunteered Hunter and me for Sangin. I did so because I've got sixteen years' infantry experience, and if anyone can handle IED Central then I can. I've done years of hands-on soldiering, so it's only right that Hunter and I get the most dangerous posting of all.

There are four platoons from Bravo Company stationed here, and they're an elite unit who'll want a K9 team on every one of their patrols. We're expected to get straight on with sniffing out the bombs, having had zero time to settle in. I've put one condi tion on our doing so: the boss of the 104 has to get a second K9 team sent out to serve alongside us. Without another man-and dog team, Hunter and I are going to be burned out in a matter of days.

I've done two decades of soldiering and I'm a veteran of Northern Ireland, Bosnia and Iraq. It's been my role in the 104 to prepare our dog teams for Afghanistan. Most of the handlers are combat virgins, and they're walking into the fire. If I lose a single man, woman or dog I know that I'll never get over it: I'll always blame myself for not bringing them all home. I'll spend the rest of my life wondering if I could have done something more in the training, something that would have made the difference between their living and dying.

We seven AES teams are tasked with covering the entire British war effort here in Afghanistan. Hunter and I were the first to be dropped on the ground, with the other teams flying onwards to their bases. As my dog and I exited the Chinook, I said my goodbyes to the young lads and lasses and their dogs. Just as Hunter sees me as his dad, so do they, and it was tough letting them go. But I've got every faith in them.

I'm 100 per cent certain none will turn away from their task, even though they're heading out to do the most dangerous job in the world.

On our first morning in Sangin Hunter and I are introduced to the two surprise members of our team Jihad and Sandbag. Bravo Company has adopted two Afghan strays as their mascots. Jihad looks like a collie-German shepherd cross, and she's a sleek and beautiful dog. Sandbag is an impossible-looking Labrador-poodle cross, with the body and legs of a pot-bellied pig.

Jihad and Sandbag are the old dogs here in Sangin, and they're understandably keen to meet the new arrival, Hunter. I'm keen for him to get to know Jihad in particular, because I'm told she goes on every patrol with the lads. As for Sandbag, she looks too fat to go anywhere, but I'm told she's a cheeky little mutt who everyone loves to hate, and that she's great for morale. But before they can meet and greet Hunter, I've got to check the both of them over.

Jihad and Sandbag may be great for boosting morale, but they're crawling with ticks. I get an alcohol wipe and put it on the tick's back, which forces its head and jaws to withdraw, allowing me to safely remove and to kill it. I can tell that Jihad's recently had a litter of puppies, for her teats and belly are saggy.

Her vulva's badly infected and I'll need to get it treated, or she'll get septicaemia and die.

I order a batch of drugs off the 104's veterinarian, based at Camp Bastion. She promises to get them sent out to me, but only when she can manage to get them onto a flight, and only if none of the working dogs is in need of the medicines. It's the best we can manage, and I just have to hope I get the drugs into Jihad in time to cure her.

My inspection done, I allow Hunter some face-time with Jihad, and I can tell he thinks she's a girl with some class. At first he tries acting all cool - body rigid, mouth clamped shut, stubby tail rock-still. But as soon as they start sniffing each other's undersides he loses it, getting this big, dopey smile on his face. Jihad doesn't have any such qualms: she's flirting with him outra geously. Hunter gives me a So what next, Dad? look.

Jihad's not quite had the Sasha effect on Hunter, but he's yet to see her in action out on patrol. Hunter's a typical dog, and he's not going to hold back hitting on Jihad just because of Sasha. But I can't let them get too close quite yet. Jihad's a stray and she's very likely riddled with disease, and I can't take the risk of Hunter catching anything. I'll allow him a good bit of innocent fun, but not to take it any further.

If Jihad and Sandbag are going to be honorary members of my K9 team, I figure they'll need some credentials. I manage to get a call through to home via the base's satellite phone. I speak to my folks, tell them about the two new members of my team, and get a couple of bone-shaped aluminium dog tags ordered - one inscribed 'Jihad', the other 'Sandbag. Welcome to the family.

Next priority is to get Hunter's nose in. I've been warned that Bravo Company need us for a major operation, and time's running. I ask the Afghan National Army soldiers co-located with the British forces if they have any local weaponry and explosives that I can use to train my dog. They hand me a pineapple-shaped warhead for a Rocket Propelled Grenade (RPG), plus an AK47 assault rifle.