Thread: War Hounds

CHAPTER ONE
(Life on the Job)

One incident, sometimes that’s all it takes. One incident between two countries can lead to another. This might even be the seeds of a war. That’s basically how the First World War began. So many nations were vying for more resources, more territory, more everything. So since the countries were already on volatile grounds with each other, it only took one attack on one Arch-Duke Ferdinand to set it ablaze. Over the course of four years the world was at war. When it was finally over, the other countries (namely France and England) didn’t take too kindly to the Germans and made them pay, dearly. Because of this, some time later, the Germans (or rather a fast expanding party of them) had begun to rebuild their military. Then, they forged their alliance with Italy, Japan, even with the Soviet Union. After that and after more than a few attacks, such as Japan’s attack on China and the German invasion of Poland, the world was at war once more. It has been years and despite the proud efforts of England and the noble sacrifices of France. The German army (or the Nazis as they now call themselves) is nearing victory in the war. Much of France is under German occupation and after many bombing attacks, much of London was evacuated. At first the United States tried to stay out of this. “Why should our troops be slaughtered sorting out Europe’s problems? We have our own problems, with the Stock Market crashing. Better to let them sort it out amongst themselves” Many people thought. But that was before the Japanese launched an attack on Pearl Harbor. This unprovoked aggression, much like the one on the good ship, Lusitania, left the United States stunned and the President fuming. As Franklin D. Roosevelt himself said “This day will live in infamy”, and it did, soon after, the U.S.A. was officially apart of the war. This is how I got here, here on the front lines. Who am I you ask? I am a proud American citizen and a respected member of the Allied Forces. I am Ricky,
1.

And as I said, I am a full-blooded United States citizen. All the way to my four paws, that’s right, I am a German Shepard (purebred). How can I be a member of the Allies? Being a dog of sound condition of body and mind, I have been recruited to be a messenger dog. Yes, it is my job to deliver messages over any number of miles to another dog owner, who will then deliver them to their commanding officers. This line of duty has even brought me through areas belonging to the Nazi Army. I know, I have an important job, then why don’t I feel good about it? Probably because no matter how you slice this pie or how much you glamorize it, all I do is deliver messages. Sad truth is I’m a glorified postman, a four-legged homing pigeon. I was bred since I was six months old to be a dog used by the Allied Forces. But despite being trained as a dog used for communication, I’ve always wanted to be on the front lines. I’ve always wanted to be a War dog, those are dogs trained for danger. Some are trained to be on the lookout for enemy troops and land mines. Others are trained to join their humans in battle, even find and retrieve wounded troops. Those are the dogs who all of canine history will remember, not “Post-dogs” like me. I know, my job is a vital one, but…I guess it’s just…I want so much more. I don’t want to just be a run-of-the-mill letter carrier. I want to be a hero, a war veteran, a dog whose name will be said for years to come. But this is the life I was dealt, unfortunately, and I guess I have to make the most of it. Or at least that’s how I thought it was going to be. In only a few weeks I was given an important message to deliver. The recipient is a Major, in charge of a small United States Platoon that guards a passage that would be a massive loss, should the Nazi’s take it. The message was to inform the Major of a small path that would not only cut a swath to the other side of the pass, but would also allow a sneak attack on the Major and his platoon. Once I deliver the message, the Major will have enough time to fortify this pass and be better prepared for any possible attacks. So once again, I’m playing Mailman. But little did I know that this supposedly run-of-the-mill assignment was about to be a life-changing disaster.
2.


For beyond where I was currently stationed, far behind enemy lines, lies the very belly of the beast. Deep in the heart of Berlin is the Official Nazi Party Headquarters. Here, we take a look inside the meeting room, used by the Führer himself, Adolph Hitler, along with his entire Cabinet of Ministers, Chancellors and Generals, no doubt discussing new plans for the war. And right there, lying down in a dog bed, was a purebred Doberman pinscher named Henrik. Maybe his owner was the infamous German Field Marshal, Wilhelm Keitel. Or maybe it was a high ranking man like Heinrich Himmler. It was not made clear who Henrik’s master was, but it was clear that he belonged to someone high in the Nazi High Command. Like me, Henrik is a dog with a role in this war. He is one of the many canines the Nazis use for a variety of jobs. Such as guarding, combat, even for intimidating the civilians. And, if necessary, they will be used to intercept messenger dogs like me. Upon interception, these dogs are trained to bring these messages to their Nazi handlers. Once receiving these messages, the Axis Powers gain an advantage over the Allies. This makes Henrik a possible threat to me (or rather a threat, as time will soon tell). When the Homo-Sapiens were done with their meeting, they began to exit the room. Henrik’s owner came up to the Doberman and gave him a pat on the head. Once all the humans were gone, Henrik rises from his bed and heads for the meeting table. He even sits himself at Hitler’s chair. “Gut Jeder, the humans are gone, Kommen sie heraus!” He said in a commanding voice and almost instantly, other Dobermans began to fill the room. Some were hiding in the closets, while others were in the next room. But they were all there, awaiting orders from Henrik. Like Hitler himself is, among the German humans, Henrik is a figure of respect among the Nazi canines. He was their leader, he was their commander-in-chief, he is their Führer. Once all dogs were present in the room, they stand at attention before Henrik in his chair, acknowledging the Swastika symbol on the tag on his collar.
3.


“Have a seat, Meine Bruder, we have much to discuss” he said, as the other canines comply and sit in the other seats at the meeting table. “Jetzt dann, let us begin, Josef you first. How are our ties with Italy and Japan?” Henrik continued “The Neapolitan Mastiff brigade reports that we still maintain a sturdy alliance with Mussolini and his people. Our Akita Inu informant reports that, so far, Emperor Hirohito has been on good terms with us, Meine Führer.” Said a Doberman named Josef “Ausgezeichnet, Victor, what is the status of the Soviet Union?” Henrik asked another Doberman named Victor “Well Meine Führer, as you know, after Hitler violated his pact with Stalin, we not only lost several humans, but we also lost an ally in the Soviets. Our relationship with them was already unsteady and now that they’ve joined the Allies, our enemy has grown stronger” Victor reported. “Bah, Hitler that fool, I admire his goals and his determination to accomplish them. But if the Third Reich had a leader with my vision and brains instead of that raving lunatic, we would’ve had Europe within our thrall by now. The only thing I like about him is that schön German Shepard of his, Blondi. She is die wundevoll lady I’ve ever laid eyes on. Anyway, Hoffel, was Sie berichten müssen?” the Doberman Führer continued “Well Meine Führer, I have recently learned that your owner will be taking you and one of our kennels behind enemy lines in Europe. Intelligence indicates that there has been neue Tätigkeit by the Allies near the border of France. Hitler is sending troops there to patrol the area. You, Meine Führer, along with a kennel of our dogs will be there for extra muskel. Also, should any messenger dogs be dispatched, we have orders to intercept them.” Reported the Doberman named Hoffel “Ich sehe, very well then, Josef you’re verantwortlich until I return” replies Henrik, after which, Josef salutes him like the German humans salute their Führer. “Which kennel will be placed under my command? And when will this occur, Hoffel?” he continued “Mein kennel, Kennel E9 will be sent, Meine Führer. As for the time, our departure should be innerhalb der Stunde” replied Hoffel as Henrik gets out of his chair. “Ser gut, no doubt my owner will be returning for me. Return to E9, Hoffel and tell the troops to await further orders
4.


Josef, continue to monitor things here. Are we verstanden Jeder?” ordered Henrik as everyone responds with “Jawohl, Mein Führer!” followed by a Nazi salute. Then, as Henrik predicted, his owner had returned to the meeting chamber. Fortunately for Henrik and his “cabinet”, their canine sense of hearing and smell alerted them to his arrival soon enough for them to vacate the room (or at least get out of sight) before he came in. So all he would see is his own Doberman. “Come along mein haustier, we’re going to pay a visit to die Landschaft. You’re going to have plenty of Kurierhunde to tear into. You’ll like that, won’t you mein haustier?” said Henrik’s owner as he strokes his back and head. The two of them exit the room together. But before they do, Henrik looks back and gives a signaling snarl to Hoffel who was hiding under the desk. Once Henrik and his owner were out of the room, Hoffel returns to his kennel to await orders from his Führer. Meanwhile, back at the base I was stationed at, the bipeds were preparing for the very departure I had been assigned for. The plane was ready and my message capsule was loaded. But as I stated earlier, I’m still not too fond of my position. So naturally, I let out a deep sigh. “I see your jolly attitude is as positive as ever” responded my dear friend, Christopher. Christopher is not only a well-versed and cultured Bull Mastiff, but he’s also a messenger dog like me and my best friend. He’s from the city of London; he was adopted by the British Military after his family was lost during the Battle of Britain. They were all caught in the crossfire of two planes. We met during basic training and became as close as brothers. While I always seem to lament about my job, Christopher just sees this as a duty that needed to be done. “Still keeping a happy face on things Chris?” I said “Which is more than I can say for you. Look Richard, I know this is not the most glamorous of jobs. But it’s the one we got, may as jolly well make the most of it. If the small jobs aren’t done, the bigger jobs can’t happen” he replied. Somehow, someway, Chris always knew the best things to say and when to say it.
5.

Nice idea, I think that much can be done with this story. The grammar needs work though.