Wardogs

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

It does so using forty-two razor-sharp teeth, with jaws exerting one hundred and twenty pounds of biting pressure per square inch. To put that in context, it would be like having a car fall off a jack and land on your arm. Having such a dog patrol at night would reduce the need for sentries, and increase the amount of rest they could get - all crucial factors when spending months at war.

The major asks me to get him a team as soon as. I speak to the 104, and I'm told they'll send us young Harry McKnight with his patrol dog Leo. The following morning they get jetted out to us on a Chinook. Harry comes off the ramp with his German shepherd muzzled, and looking like he's raring to go.

We take them down to the kennel, which can house as many as six dogs. Leo gets his own slot allocated to him, and Harry gets a space for his cot next to mine. I've got the place right beneath the air-con unit, because I am king of the castle here. Otherwise, we treat each other pretty much as equals.

Harry's a gobby little Scouser who not so long ago wanted nothing less than to be in the Army. He had serious problems at home and was going well off the rails. But I'd been through much of what he's been through as a kid, and he and I can relate. I got him through his K9 and his Afghan training, and he and his dog are shaping up to be a fine team.

Harry's going to be under the Ranger Company sergeant major's control. Frankie O'Connor will give him his duties and tell him where he most needs him doing security. There's an added advantage to having Harry around. He wants to be a search dog handler, and he's keen to learn as much as he can from the old dogs - Hunter and me. Harry goes out and hides some explo sive samples around the base, and I set Hunter to find them. It's great for training.

I put the word around that Harry and Leo need volunteers. As with any patrol dog, Leo needs to train with live targets. As Hunter needs to keep finding explosives in order to keep his nose in, so Leo needs to bite to keep his teeth ready. Each night we'll need a volunteer to put on the 'bite suit' - a thick, impenetrable Michelin Man outfit, which comes complete with a bite sleeve. I sense we can have some real fun here, as taking Leo's bite becomes something of a ritual.

That night, Harry and Leo do their first security patrol. They spend two hours on alert, walking the base perimeter, followed by an hour off to rest the dog. They do so until first light. Harry returns to the kennel so that he and his dog can get some rest with the air con on full blast. During daylight hours it'll be the Kingdom of Leo and Harry in there, for Hunter and I will be out on patrol.

That morning I'm called into an Orders Group with Major Shannon. We go through the usual planning for the operation, but at the end there's something missing. Normally, the major lists the 'atts and dets' - those assets attached to the patrol. Invariably, the 'atts and dets' include the dog team - that's us. Today, there's no mention of us being attached to the mission. I wonder why.

I'm waiting for the major to say, 'Oh hold on, Dog, I forgot - you're on it. But it doesn't come. Instead, he finishes the briefing by asking for any questions.

I raise the obvious: 'Sir, you haven't mentioned me or my dog! 'That's right. That's because we have good intel that they're placing black gunpowder around the IEDs, so as to throw your dog off the scent.'

'And?' I query.

He gives me a confused look. 'What d'you mean, "and"? We figure there's no point you going out...

'Hold on a minute, sir. That's all the more reason to send us.

Hunter's an Arms and Explosives Search dog. He's trained to search

for gunpowder. We can use this to our advantage.

'Like how?'

'Just like we used to in Northern Ireland, sir. They used to play a similar trick. All we do is when we find any gunpowder, I'll use Hunter to demarcate where they've spread it, and we'll box off the entire area. We'll know that somewhere inside that box they've likely placed an IED?

The major nods enthusiastically. 'Come forward and show us on the map, will you?'

I go up to the map board and demonstrate how we'll use Hunter to box around a suspect area, cordon the entire thing off, then call in the EOD lot to search it and disarm any devices.

'Sir, let's use this to our advantage. Rather than not taking the dog out, let's use this to outfox 'em. After the briefing the major takes me to one side. 'I like the

way you're thinking here, Dave?

You know, sir, it's not rocket science: like I said, it's exactly what Hunter and I did when the IRA tried the same trick in Belfast. 'Understood, says the major. There's a slight uncomfortable pause. But there's one thing, Dave. We're getting very credible intel that the Taliban are directly targeting you and your dog. This gunpowder thing is only part of a bigger picture. I want you to be aware of that, and doubly careful.

Major Shannon goes on to explain what lies behind his evident concern. Since shortly after our arrival, the control room at Sangin has been intercepting some very interesting communi cations on the Talinet. Each time we set out on patrol it starts going wild: "The black dog is coming out! The black dog is coming out!'

Apparently, the Taliban commanders keep banging on about the need to kill or capture the black dog - 'the one that sniffs out the bombs. They've been saying this for an age now, just no one felt it would do much for our peace of mind if they told us.

'Sir, if we weren't getting under their skin and up their noses, we wouldn't be doing our job properly, I tell the major. "The more they target us, the more a thumbs up it is that we're doing right to beat their bastard bomb teams.

I know. The OC places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. 'But just take extra care, OK? We need you and Hunter with us, on every patrol. Having you there makes all the difference to the lads.

Mostly, I'm pleased that Hunter and I have got to the enemy in this way. It confirms that we're the threat, and that we're defeating their bombing teams.

In truth, the intel changes nothing.

Knowing that they're out to get my dog doesn't change the level of danger we've been facing on each and every one of our patrols.

Hunter and I set out on the search, knowing that we're target number one for the Taliban. As I give him a flash of his chewed up green tennis ball, I can't help but flinch at the thought of the enemy getting my dog.

Hunter sees me flinch. Even as I've tried to say the magic words - 'seek-on' - with as firm and steady a voice as possible, he's seen my hand twitch. It's betrayed my nervousness, and how I'm feeling inside. I'm all torn up with fear for my dog, and if the truth be told I don't particularly want myself getting blown up either.

Normally, when shown his ball and given the command, Hunter is off like a flash. But not today. He pauses for a second, then plonks his butt down right beside me, his gaze fixed on mine. His hazel eyes are speckled with golden sunlight, but right now they're a mass of worry and concern: There's something you haven't told me, isn't there? Come on, out with it...

I crouch down beside him. I grab his shaggy neck in my hands and gaze into his eyes. 'You're right, lad, I whisper. 'We've had it confirmed by the intercepts. We're their number one target, confirmed, lad. They're calling you "the black dog", and they're out to get you and me both, big time.

I hold his gaze for a few seconds, as I read what he's thinking. I know I've got the whole of the patrol at our backs, and they're most likely having a good old stare. But they must have got pretty accustomed to the way that Hunter and I carry on by now, or if not, there's no teaching them.

Hunter's eyes speak volumes: We pretty much knew that, Dad You've got me with you, by your side, and I'm unbeatable. Don't worry - no one ever outdoes this nose...

Sure enough, my dog proves what he's saying on this very patrol. We've gone barely five hundred metres when he shows an unmistakable change in behaviour. This one is so immediate and so obvious I know it can't be a standard IED or even an arms cache. He gets this laser-eyed look, his gaze glued to one spot in the road up ahead, and without even having to check step he's homed in on the source of the scent.

He's about to plonk his butt down when he sniffs to his left and his right, and he starts getting confused. Whatever it is he's found here, it seems to stretch in a linear fashion to either side. I'm pretty certain what it must be. I call him back, go forwards myself, crouch down and check in the dust. Sure enough, there are tiny grains of black gunpowder scattered in a line across our path.

I get Hunter to trace it, and we box off the area. Somewhere inside that box I figure there's an IED. The bomb-disposal boys get called in, and they unearth a hidden bomb at the centre of that box. The Taliban's gunpowder trick has actually helped my dog to find it. At the end of that mission it's Black Dog 1-Taliban 0.

As we come in through the gates, one of the guards doing sangar duty collars us. 'Dave, did you hear, your dog guy, Harry, he got a bite last night."

I figure Harry and Leo must have caught an intruder, in which case the dog teams are coming up trumps on all sides. I wander down to the kennel area to congratulate Harry. But when I see him he doesn't look particularly pleased with himself. I can tell that he wants to talk.

I'll be there in a moment, Harry. I'll just get Hunter into his kennel.

The first thing Harry asks me is if I want a brew. Being a gobby little Scouser, he doesn't normally bother to make the coffee. This has to mean that somehow he's in the s**t. It turns out that Harry was doing some loose obedience exercises - training with his dog off-leash - and one of the Afghan bottle washers from the kitchens went running past. In a flash, Leo had attached himself very forcefully to that Afghan bloke's arm.

'Don't worry about it too much, I try to reassure him. 'You were doing extra obedience work with your dog in your free time, and that's good. You were caring for your dog and keeping up his obedience. It's just that Afghans have zero awareness of how to behave around working dogs, that's all.

I ask Harry if the Ranger Company sergeant major knows. 'Everyone on base seems to know, Harry replies, morosely.

"They all think it's b****y hilarious, 'n' all.

I can't help but laugh.

I go to see Frankie, and of course he sees the funny side of it too. But we agree we can't have Harry doing any more off-leash training. Instead, we'll up the intensity of the evening bite exer cises, in the hope that will satisfy Leo's needs.