K9LTW – a fiction by MKHurder
Chapter 8: Into Indian Country
Perimeter Departure
Donnie shut left Firebase behind him like a dream. Sandbags and Quonset huts slipped into shadow; the Huey on the pad became a distant silhouette. He felt the cold in his boots and the familiar weight at his side — Bodie’s body taut. The leash lay loose in his hand: ready but not pulling. Every buckle had been taped, every canteen cap screwed down, dog tags wrapped, snaps silenced. Radios were low. Noise was a beacon; discipline was survival.
They fell into staggered file. Reyes stood crisp at the gate; Donnie’s kit showed the mud and small repairs of repeated patrols. Bodie’s olive-drab harness had a metal D-ring; the leash was taped and folded to avoid catching. Donnie carried three canteens and a small pouch on his belt for jerky. Bodie’s nose read what maps could not.
Field Edge and Swale
They skirted churned furrows left by an earlier harvest. Mud pooled in the grooves and moonlight still clung to hollows. Bodie threaded the shallow swale beside the furrows, ears forward and tail low, moving like a shadow that listened. Donnie kept his hand near the harness, not to tug but to stay connected. The jungle ahead was a green-black wall that swallowed light.
Ambush at a Creek Crossing
They waded a shallow creek; water swirled around boots and soaked into socks. Cold climbed into Donnie’s feet. Bodie’s paws slipped in the silt, then the dog froze, nose high, breath visible. Donnie raised a closed fist — stop — and the column folded into absolute hush. Even the creek seemed to listen. The point man braced; the thicket ahead held its breath.
Bodie compacted like a spring: ears locked forward, tail low, muscles gathered. Donnie dropped to a knee. The rumble in Bodie’s throat came — low, certain, not noise but command. “Contact,” Donnie said, the single word that loosened the patrol into action. AK muzzle flashes stitched the dim; Donnie dove behind a fallen log and Bodie dove with him, the position of his node marking the threat. The patrol returned disciplined, short bursts. Leaves shredded, vines snapped, dirt sprayed. The firefight lasted seconds and ended with an unnatural loudness in the silence that followed.
After the Fight
When the echoes died, two enemy lay dead in the brush; one still had a grenade with its pin half-pulled. Bodie had closed the gap on him faster than the man could react to end the threat. Donnie stayed kneeling, hands on the dog’s shoulders to steady them both. Bodie’s tongue brushed his wrist. Then Donnie performed some checks — his partner, weapons and ammo, injuries, gathering intel. All these responsibilities lived in Donnie as a practical thing: the small things – busy work that kept people sane.
The Hide
They threaded deeper into the jungle and, when dusk returned, made a tight defensive loop and a temporary hide. They chose a place with eyes on the approaches and backs to a rock wall. Heat tabs burned under cover for warming meals and boiling water; smoke was thin and careful. The dog lay curled at Donnie’s feet, not asleep but not fully tense. Men tended gear, patched straps, and traded small mercies: a cigarette, a quiet word, a tightened harness. These rites repaired bodies and nerves.
Donnie did not write that night. The notebook would wait. He tightened a strap, checked a pad, wrapped a callus with clean cloth, and measured the steadiness of his hands. He thought of being twenty with the quiet authority war pressed upon him, of asking nineteen-year-olds to place trust in an animal and in training, and of a twenty-one-year-old commander carrying a leadership heavier than his years.
(to be continued: Chapter#9 – The Trap)
To start from the beginning: K9LTW-ch#1
to read another of my fictions in progress: DohReyMe&theKitties3-Ch1 or the Prequel – Doh – Rey – Me
Related Links:
- Four-legged-fighters
- Vietnam Dog Handlers Association
- Military Working Dog Heritage Museum
- Top Dog – Lucca
Bonus Fiction Feature:
If you read any of the fiction I create here to the end, you will be able to download a free copy when It’s complete. If I get a referral from you, I’ll throw in the fiction – Burtt the Blade.
From Popi’s Tales & The Book of Wonders
More from Popi’s Collection of Facts & Fiction
- Burtt the Blade – fiction
- Doh – Rey – Me – fiction – book – written here
- Mystery of Willow Woods – fiction – short Story – written here
- The Last Signal – part one – fiction – book – written here
- Rift Guardians – chapter#1 – fiction – book – written here
- DohReyMe&theKitties3-ch1 – fiction – book – written here – in progress
- Shorty’s Path – non-fiction auto biography book
Table of Contents
