Snow Dog

An interesting evening in the life of an Air Force dog handler and his dog.

 

 

Snow Dog

(A True Story: names and details were

changed to protect the identities of the handler

and the dog)

 

by

 

Marvin D. Moore

 

 

 

            It was 1970 and Mike Mullins was a K-9 handler in the Air Force.  As a Security Policeman, his job was to enforce the law and provide security on the Air Force bases he was assigned.  Mike did very little law enforcement and a lot of security because the dogs they used at that time couldn't work around people.  They were called Sentry Dogs and they were trained to alert on, and attack, anything that moved.  Sometimes, that included their handler.

            The Vietnam War was still going on, but Mike was one of the fortunate ones.  He was stationed in Germany.  Hahn Air Base was a small base on top of a mountain in southwestern Germany.  It was cold, it was windy, it was a fair drive to any place that was any place.  But, it sure beat the heck out of Da Nang.

            One of the less stressful duty assignments at Hahn was a place called Area 9.  It was called Area 9 because of the security badges.  Restricted areas on Air Force bases had different levels of security.  The badges that the military and contract personnel wore had numbers on them indicating which areas the wearer had access.  This area's formal name was Hahn Air Base Conventional Weapons Storage Area, also known as a bomb dump.  To get into this area, the block marked by a number 9 had to be punched.  Hence the name Area 9.  The area itself was surrounded by two fences.  Air Force regulations stated that these fences had to be ten feet high, topped with barbed or concertina wire and twenty feet apart.  Lights were also to be deployed every fifty feet or so and pointing outward.

            Mike and his dog Buddy were at Area 9 providing security for the bomb dump.  It was policy that Sentry Dogs would only work during the hours of darkness.  That, according to the canine gurus, was when they were most effective.  During alerts and other times of high defense posture, they would be posted during the day, but that was not normal deployment.  One of the reasons Area 9 was less stressful was that hardly anyone went there.  Hahn Air Base was a nuclear strike base.  They had little use for conventional weapons except on the Interceptors.  So duty at Area 9 was generally quiet and boring.  It was a great time to get in some reading or write letters.  This was a time before email.  In fact, world wide web was in its infant stages as the military developed it for its own information traffic system.

            On this particular evening, Mike and Buddy were walking their post in Area 9.  It was some time after midnight and there was a light snow on the ground, three to four inches.  Mike exercised Buddy and put him through his training regimen to kill some time.  Mike always marveled at the dogs.  They could tear you apart in short order without a second thought.  They probably enjoyed it the way they could go at it.  Yet, they would play like little children.  So eager to do things that had no real meaning other than burning energy.  On cold nights they would snuggle with their handlers, getting inside their parkas with them.  The handlers used to joke about how the dog sledders of Alaska had their three dog night while they had only one.

            After his training, Mike tossed the ball for Buddy, a game of fetch.  Mike threw the ball at Buddy and he lowered himself as if to snatch it but he stopped.  His ears lowered, he bared his teeth and low rumbling growl emanated from him.

            Oh s**t! Mike thought.  What's gotten into him.  I'm all alone out here and I've got to deal this?  But Mike noticed Buddy wasn't growling at him, but past him.  Mike put his hand on his pistol and turned.  There, standing on the access road was an older gentleman, complete in traditional German costume: lederhosen, charivari, gamsbart, all of it.  Buddy didn't advance on him like Mike thought he would.  Buddy continued to keep low to the ground and growl.

            “Guten Abend, mein Herr.”  Mike said.  He was relatively good at German.  Mike had studied for three years in high school and was one of only three people in his squadron who could speak German with any fluency.  The man did not say anything.  He only looked at the dog.

            “Kann ich Ihnen helfen?  Brauchen Sie etwas?  Mike asked.

            Nothing from the man.  He just turned to his right and started walking down the road.  Buddy turned his head and watched him depart but he never stopped growling and he did not follow.  Mike went over and attached the leash to Buddy's collar just in case he decided to take off after him.  He didn't want to chase Buddy through these woods in the snow.  Mike watched the man leave until he was out of sight.

            “Wow!  What was that all about, huh Buddy?  Good boy.”  Mike let Buddy know that he did a good job and gave him a few playful rubs to reinforce it.  Mike wondered why the man didn't say anything.  Usually the locals were very friendly and would chat you up pretty good if they knew you could speak German.  Mike stood by the fence thinking about this for a while.

            He noticed something in the snow almost by accident.  There were footprints of the man leaving, but none of his arrival.  No footprints leading up to the fence, just walking away.  The footprints were the only disturbance in the snow.  It had fallen after Mike arrived on post, and the sentry he had relieved had left.  He looked to see if the man had retraced his steps, arriving the same way he left but it was not evident.  Besides, Buddy would have alerted on him.  He should have alerted on him in any case no matter which direction he arrived.  He had not.

            Mike sat down in the snow with Buddy who licked his face.

            “Buddy, let's not tell anyone about this, OK?  I don't think they would believe us anyway.  Let's get back to work.”  Mike got up, and the two walked off into the woods.

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think. Be gentle, though, I am a virgin. I have more and I will be posting them soon.

Reviews

[Cat paws]

hey there its really good to read. from the bottom of my heart i wish u good luck

[Glen Yumang Manese]

The handlers used to joke about how the dog sledders of Alaska had their three dog night while they had only one.
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The handlers used to joke about how the dog sledders of Alaska had their three dogs a night while they had only one.
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Oh s**t! Mike thought. What's gotten into him. I'm all alone out here and I've got to deal this?
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Oh s**t! Mike thought. What's gotten into him. I'm all alone out here and I've got to deal with this?

Interesting of a read here...I'm a Marine back in the days served 8 years...so I wanted to read this and see what it was about...a strange event there...and the reaction of the dog and Mike...how the event leaves one to wonder in the end of the story...of who the person was...I would post more...but the Cafe is a fickle with long narratives...so I would give feedback on those who write stories and have them return in kind...I noticed a couple grammar errors and noted them on top... good to read you...