About the Book
At the kennels, Caesar the chocolate labrador doesn’t look special. But Corporal Ben Fulton sees something different – an intelligent dog whose curiosity will make him an excellent sniffer dog in the Australian Army.
On operations in Afghanistan with Ben, Caesar proves his worth, finding hidden explosives and saving the lives of the soldiers. Then, during a Taliban ambush, Caesar is separated from his master. Ben and his best mate Charlie are seriously wounded and evacuated to hospital.
But where is Caesar? From their home in Australia, Ben and his family search for clues that might reveal whether their beloved dog is still alive and surviving Afghanistan’s bitter winter cold – and capture by the Taliban.
It will be a long road home, and Caesar will face many hardships along the way, but for this brave and loyal dog, anything is possible.
Based on the true stories of heroic military and service dogs who save countless lives.
Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
List of Military Terms
Fact File
Copyright Notice
More at Random House Australia
Dedicated to Sarbi the Australian Army explosive detection dog, Cairo the American Special Forces dog, Endal the British service dog, and all other dogs who have served humankind in peace and war. And in loving memory of my own labrador retriever, Zeberdy.
With special thanks to Zoe, Catriona and Richard, and, as always, to my Louise, my commander-in-chief.
The first time that Corporal Ben Fulton saw Caesar, he didn’t think much of him. In fact, he walked by him twice without a second glance. When he finally came to a stop in front of Caesar, on his third inspection of the line of dogs, Ben had a perplexed look on his face. ‘That has got to be ugliest labrador retriever I have ever seen,’ he said.
Corporal Ben had come to Huntingdon Kennels to look for a new dog, one that he could train to become an Australian Army sniffer dog. Huntingdon Kennels raised dogs for use by the police, emergency services and military, and Ben had asked to see the kennels’ labrador retrievers. In his experience, labradors made the best sniffer dogs. So, the kennels lined up a dozen young labradors for Ben to inspect. Some were sandy coloured, some were black, and some, like Caesar, were brown. They were all aged between eighteen months and three years, and they sat in a line like soldiers, facing Ben. All had been given obedience training by the kennels. As a result, they sat still and quiet as Ben walked up and down the line accompanied by Jan, a young woman who helped run the kennels.
Ben was looking for a dog with something special. The animal he ended up choosing would spend the rest of his working days with Ben, and there would be times when Ben’s life, and the lives of other soldiers around them, would depend on that dog. So, Ben had to be sure that he and the dog would get on well, and that the animal had what it took to be a war dog. Just as every man doesn’t always make a good soldier, not every dog has the courage, strength and loyalty to be a good war dog. None of the dogs Ben had viewed that morning stood out. Except for Caesar – and he stood out for all the wrong reasons – with his snout puffed up like a balloon on one side, he was not a pretty sight.
‘That’s Caesar,’ said Jan. ‘He’s always getting into mischief. He went and stuck his nose into a beehive and got stung on the nose three or four times. The swelling will go down in a day or two. It doesn’t seem to have bothered him much.’
As the corporal studied him, the labrador returned his gaze, taking in this well-built soldier of average height with a round, open face and dark, short-cropped hair. Then Caesar lowered his head, almost as if he was embarrassed by his puffy nose.
Ben smiled broadly. ‘Poor Caesar,’ he said, kneeling beside the sitting dog and rubbing him behind the ear, which dogs love. ‘Those nasty bee stings would have hurt like hell. Didn’t they, mate?’
Caesar, immediately taking a liking to him, responded by wagging his tail and trying to lick Ben’s face.
The manager of the kennels now joined them. ‘You’re not thinking of taking Caesar, are you, Corporal?’ he said. ‘That would be the worst dog in the kennels. We were considering getting rid of him.’
‘Why?’ Ben asked, turning to look at him.
‘Caesar’s always sticking his nose where he shouldn’t,’ said the manager. ‘And he’s a digger, too. Some dogs love to dig holes, but labrador retrievers aren’t usually that interested in digging. This labrador would dig all day if you let him, just to see what he could dig up. That’s not good for a working dog. You want his full attention.’
Ben patted Caesar’s shining chocolate-brown coat, then stood up. He looked down at Caesar, and Caesar looked back up at him with a wagging tail and gleaming eyes that seemed to say, Take me!
‘You know what?’ said Ben. ‘I’ll take him, I’ll take Caesar. I like him.’
‘Really? Why him, of all dogs?’ the surprised manager responded.
‘Curiosity,’ said Ben. ‘A dog that puts his nose into a beehive and digs to see what he can find has loads of curiosity. And in my job, that’s just the sort of dog I need. He’s got to be curious enough to find out what’s hidden in a package, or to locate explosives hidden in a culvert beside the road. A dog like that can save lives.’
The manager shook his head. ‘Well, good luck with him, Corporal. But I don’t think you’ll find Caesar will be much use to the army.’
‘What’s his ancestry?’ Ben asked.
‘His father and mother are labradors,’ said Jan. ‘But his grandfather was a German shepherd.’
‘A German shepherd?’ said Ben, nodding approvingly. ‘I thought I could see a hint of another breed in his long snout. German shepherds are even more intelligent than labradors. If this dog has the best qualities of the curious labrador and the smart German shepherd, we could make quite a team.’
‘Please yourself,’ said the manager, unconvinced. ‘But don’t blame me if he disappoints you and lets you down one day.’
Despite the manager’s lack of confidence in this brown labrador, Corporal Ben had been working with military dogs for ten years, and he considered himself the best judge. Signing the necessary papers, Ben officially made Caesar a recruit of the Australian Army, and made him his new trainee war dog.
In a green military Land Rover, Ben pulled up in the driveway of his neat modern brick house at 3 Kokoda Crescent, Holsworthy. Ben was stationed at the sprawling Australian Army barracks at Holsworthy, southwest of Sydney, and was allowed to live off the base with his family. Climbing down, Ben walked around to the back of the Land Rover and opened its rear door. Caesar sat in the back looking at him, with nose puffed up, tongue hanging out, and tail wagging expectantly.
‘Okay, Caesar, come meet the Fulton family,’ said Ben, taking hold of the dog’s leash.
The labrador jumped down to the ground and waited, looking around at his surroundings and sniffing the suburban scents on the late afternoon air, as Ben closed the Land Rover door.
‘Let’s go, mate,’ said Ben, before leading Caesar to the front door, the dog trotting along eagerly at his side. ‘Where is e
verybody?’ Ben called, as he led Caesar in through the door.
‘I’m in here, Dad,’ came the voice of Ben’s son, Joshua Robert Fulton, or Josh for short. Josh, who had just turned nine, loved computer games and just about every sport there was, and had a vivid imagination. Other kids at Josh’s school at Holsworthy had parents in the army, too. But Josh could only tell his schoolmates that his father was a dog handler. He wasn’t allowed to say that his dad was a member of the Australian Army’s Incident Response Regiment, the IRR, because it was a top-secret unit that dealt with terrorist threats. If anyone asked, Josh would just say that his dad worked with a sniffer dog, a dog which he often brought home. But Josh would neglect to include that his dad sometimes went away overseas on secret missions for months at a time. Ben couldn’t tell his family exactly where he and his dog went, or exactly what they did while they were away, but he did tell Josh that the work they did on those secret missions was highly important. And Josh was really, really proud of his dad.
Josh was sitting at the dining table doing homework when his father walked in. Josh was the spitting image of Ben, with the same brown eyes and brown hair, the same round face with a dimpled chin.
‘Got a surprise for you, Josh,’ Ben announced.
‘Really?’ Looking around expectantly, Josh saw his dad with a brown dog on a leash.
‘Caesar, sit!’ Ben instructed in a firm voice.
Caesar immediately sat at Ben’s side and looked at Josh, who looked right back at him. Josh frowned. ‘What an ugly looking dog,’ he declared, with disappointment in his voice, as he took in Caesar’s puffed-up nose. ‘Whose is he?’
‘Ours, now,’ said Ben, with a big grin. ‘He’s my new trainee war dog. His name is Caesar.’
‘Ours?’ said Josh with disdain. ‘Why?’
‘Caesar is the official replacement for Dodger. Say hello to him, mate.’ Ben led Caesar across the room to Josh, and Caesar went to him with a wagging tail.
‘I don’t want a new dog,’ Josh snapped, ignoring Caesar. ‘I want Dodger.’ Just two weeks before, his father’s last war dog, Dodger, had passed away, and Josh, still hurting, was missing Dodger terribly.
Ben had been expecting his son to be overjoyed that they had a new dog so soon. ‘Josh, mate,’ he said, dropping to one knee in front of him, ‘you’ll grow to love Caesar as much as you loved Dodger.’
Josh looked at Caesar, who, standing before him, continued to wag his tail. But, to Josh, no dog could ever replace Dodger.
‘Look, he likes you,’ said his dad. ‘Give him a pat, son. Just mind his nose – it’s a bit sore. He managed to get it stung by bees.’
‘Then he’s stupid as well as ugly,’ said Josh.
‘But, son …’
‘I’ve got homework to do.’ Turning his back on Caesar, Josh returned his attention to the laptop on the table.
Ben, though surprised by his son’s reaction, was prepared to give Josh some slack. After all, the family had been dealing with two tragedies this past year. Not only had they lost Dodger, but Josh’s mother, Marie Fulton, had died eight months back after a battle with breast cancer. Ben’s hope was that Caesar would help with his children’s healing process. Maybe Josh’s sister, he thought, would show more enthusiasm for the new dog. ‘Where’s Maddie?’ Ben asked, coming to his feet.
‘In the backyard, I think,’ Josh answered, without looking up from his homework. ‘And Nan’s in the kitchen.’
Ben led Caesar toward the kitchen. As he did, fond memories of Josh and Maddie growing up with Dodger flashed through his mind. Dodger had also been a labrador, but a sandy-coloured one. After the children lost their mother, Josh in particular had become even closer to their four-legged playmate. That dog had seemed to know when Josh was sad, and whenever Ben brought him home, Dodger would go straight to Josh for a play with a tennis ball or a sandshoe, or for a wrestle. If Josh cried, Dodger had licked away his tears.
Two weeks ago, Ben had been faced with the task of breaking the devastating news to Josh and Maddie that their beloved dog Dodger had suffered a stroke. And how Ben had been forced to ask an army veterinary surgeon to put Dodger out of his misery with a lethal injection. Josh couldn’t believe that dogs could have strokes, even though his dad had said it wasn’t unusual for some labradors to have them, just like humans. To Josh, Dodger had seemed perfectly healthy the last time he had seen him. But Josh hadn’t witnessed the effect of the stroke on Dodger, who had become partly paralysed and couldn’t even walk. To Ben and the army, putting Dodger down was the kindest thing that could be done for him.
‘How did you go today, Ben?’ asked Ben’s mother, Nan Fulton, as he entered the kitchen. She looked up from where she was peeling potatoes at the sink. A slim woman with short grey hair, she was fit and sporty, regularly playing tennis and golf in her spare time. After Marie’s death, Nan, a widow herself, had moved in with Ben, Josh and Maddie. Ben called her their ‘glue’, for she had brought the Fulton family together in their time of grief, and had held them together.
‘Mission accomplished, Mum,’ Ben replied. ‘We have a new dog. Meet Caesar.’
Wiping her hands, Nan bent and gave Caesar a pat. ‘Hello, Caesar,’ she said. ‘Welcome to the Fulton household.’ In response, Caesar licked her on the cheek, making her laugh.
‘Josh wasn’t particularly welcoming to Caesar,’ said Ben.
‘I overheard,’ Nan responded, straightening again. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll come around.’
‘I know how much Josh is missing Dodger,’ said Ben, nodding, ‘but …’
‘Just give him time to get over his grief for Dodger,’ said Nan. ‘It’s a bit soon to expect him to fall in love with a new dog right away.’
‘I know,’ Ben agreed with a sigh. ‘If we were an ordinary family, I would have left it a few months before I brought a new dog home. But we’re not an ordinary family, and Caesar here is no ordinary dog. I have to get him trained up right away and then get back into the field. I’ve got a job to do, and the army waits for no one.’
‘Maddie’s out in the backyard,’ said Nan. She put her hand affectionately on his arm. ‘See what she thinks of Caesar.’
Ben slid open the glass back door and led Caesar out into the garden. Six-year-old Madeline Ann Fulton had fair hair and blue eyes, just like her late mother. Maddie loved animals and hoped that one day Father Christmas might bring her a horse of her very own. Like Josh, she had loved Dodger. Ben found her sitting on the back lawn, talking to a circle of dolls on the grass and waving a scolding finger at them. ‘Maddie, what do you think of our new dog?’ Ben called.
Looking up, Maddie spotted Caesar and let out a gasp. ‘A new doggy?’ she exclaimed. Jumping to her feet, she ran to Caesar and hugged him. ‘He’s lovely! Can we keep him?’
‘You bet we can keep him,’ said Ben. ‘He’s my new war dog. His name is Caesar.’
‘Caesar,’ Maddie repeated, continuing to hug the brown dog, whose tail wagged with delight.
‘Caesar was the name of a famous general in Roman times,’ said Ben. ‘Pretty appropriate for an army dog, don’t you think, Maddie?’
Maddie didn’t care about Roman generals. But she did care about dogs. She didn’t even seem to notice Caesar’s puffy nose. ‘Nice doggy,’ she cooed. ‘And you’re all ours.’
Ben looked at Nan, who had followed him outside, and smiled. ‘At least most of the Fulton family seems to like Caesar,’ he said. ‘All we have to do is win Josh over.’
‘Like I said, Ben,’ Nan replied, ‘you can’t push the dog onto Josh. You just focus on training Caesar, and let time take care of Josh.’
Ben nodded. His mother was usually not the most talkative of people, but over the years he’d found that when she did have something to say, it made a lot of sense.
Maddie was giggling as she continued to hug Caesar. The labrador, meanwhile, was twisting and turning as he tried to lick her face.
‘So, Maddie, you like Caesar?’ said Ben.
‘I love Caesar, Daddy,’ Maddie gushed. ‘And I think Mummy would have loved him, too, if she was still here. Don’t you?’
Ben smiled wistfully. ‘I think she would, sweetheart. I think she would.’ To shake off the sudden wave of sadness that washed over him as he thought of the children’s late mother, he bent to a pot plant beside the back door. Picking out an old, worn tennis ball that Dodger had always loved to play with, he handed it to Maddie. ‘See if Caesar likes chasing balls,’ he said.
As Maddie took the tennis ball, Caesar sat down, with his eyes fixed intently on the ball as if it was suddenly the most important thing in the world. Ben unclipped his leash.
‘Fetch the ball, Caesar!’ Maddie called, flinging the ball as far as she could.
When the ball bounced across the grass, Caesar watched its progress. But he didn’t move, even though his front legs quivered in anticipation of the chase. Ben knew this was proof of excellent obedience training at the Huntingdon Kennels. As much as Caesar wanted that ball, he knew who was boss, and he was waiting for an instruction from his handler, Ben, before he moved.
Ben smiled approvingly then gave the command, ‘Caesar, seek!’
In an instant, Caesar was up and bounding across the grass. Snaffling the ball in his mouth, he came loping back to drop it at Maddie’s feet, before sitting and waiting for another throw and chase. Time and again Maddie threw the ball, and time and again Caesar retrieved it. Ben, glancing back in through the dining room window, hoped that Josh might be showing some interest in what was going on in the backyard. To his disappointment, Josh’s head remained down as he concentrated on his homework.
When Maddie’s arm grew tired, Ben took over ball throwing duties. For a solid hour, Caesar chased and retrieved that ball, and Ben reckoned the brown labrador could probably have kept chasing it for another hour. Ben was pleased – Caesar’s enjoyment of the task of chase and retrieval was a sign that he could make an almost tireless sniffer dog. For that was what explosives detection was all about – seeking and locating. Ben knew that sniffer dogs considered their work one big game. A dog that soon grew bored of a game of fetch would soon become bored with detecting explosives.
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