The landing craft bay was painted a battleship grey. Fitting, considering where it was.

There was always the constant hum in the back of Strongheart's ears. Every dog could hear it, even though the humans said it wasn't there. It was the sound of the engines, far astern. The sound of power, motion, and safety.

Here in the tight, cold metal confines of the ship, this was the only place Strongheart felt safe. It was where he spent his life when he wasn't fighting. Where he waited for his next mission.

“Hey there, scruffy,” came a voice from over Strongheart's shoulder. Any human would have jumped, but the dog had known she was there. She'd been watching from the shadows since he'd arrived.

Strongheart turned towards her slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves. Sunny knew him well, she was his handler, but his lessons were deeply ingrained. Pups were beaten at the academy for not showing proper respect.

Strongheart was no pup, but he still kept his eyes to the grey metal floor.

“Ma'am,” he said.

His gaze may be properly lowered, but he could still see her roll her eyes.

A moment later and she'd stepped up to him, one of her hands playfully flicking his nose. She had to reach up to touch his face. The dog, standing on two legs, was a good three feet taller than she and out-massed her by two-hundred pounds.

It took everything Strongheart had not to sneeze.

“What have I told you about calling me ma'am?” she whispered. “You only need to worry about that when we're on duty.” Pausing for a moment, she smiled. “And besides, I thought we were friends. Do you want me to start calling you Dog One-Twenty-Seven again?”

It was improper, he knew it, but Strongheart smiled.

Smiling was one of the many things that dogs were expressly forbidden. Not only did it impart too much humanity to a creature seen as little more than a tool, but it also exposed one's teeth.

It was never good for a dog to show its teeth to a human outside the battlefield. And few humans who saw a dog's teeth lived to tell of it.

“No,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I like my new name.”

Strongheart had gone the first ten years of his life as nothing more than Dog One-Twenty-Seven. Not until being reassigned to Sunny had he'd been blessed with a true name. She'd said he reminded her of a dog from a movie.

“A penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

A moment later she stepped closer, leaning against him. He could feel her warmth against his chest. She was the only human he'd ever... who cared for him.

The silence drew out around them, comfortable and natural. Strongheart could hear the background hum of the engines. And his heartbeat. And her's.

He didn't want to break the silence.

“I was just thinking about tomorrow...” he said, voice trailing off.

She let out a long breath and snuggled deeper into his coat.

“Don't worry about it, Strongheart,” she whispered. “You're a good dog, you've survived dozens of battles. You'll come back.”

“That's not it,” he said, fighting for words. The dog training program had taught him a hundred ways to kill a man but never how to express such thoughts as these. “I don't... want to.”

Sunny went stiff.

“You don't want to come back?” she asked. Her voice was still soft, but Strongheart could hear the handler's edge in her words. It made him want to cringe.

“No,” he said, wrapping a tentative arm around her. “I don't want to hurt people anymore.”

The stress fell from her. A moment later she wove her delicate fingers between his clumsy, claw-tipped digits.

“You won't, Strongheart. Not for much longer. Just hold on. We'll get home someday. Then... then we'll find something for you but war.”

With nothing more than the hum of the engines in their ears, they stood in the cold, dark landing bay as the ship pressed east.

Tomorrow would be June 6'th, 1944. D-Day.


This is a prequel of sorts to an upcoming novel length story I plan to post titled 'Police Dog'.

Things I learned while writing this:
If you're going to write a story based in the forties, don't reference a movie made in the eighties!


Thanks to  greywriterwolf for the idea and proofreading.

Comments and critique welcome.