August 4, 1918: Rest & Recovery

The cool breeze swept through the broken buildings of the village and Tri rolled onto his back where he lay in the shade. For a fleeting moment between sleep and wakefulness, he felt like he was back on the Iron Hill, enjoying a break from the day’s chores. It was almost as if he could see the colourful flowers nodding in the wind and feel the cool grass… And it was as if he heard the master’s footsteps on the gravel. He rolled over and lifted his head to respond to his master’s approach, but the boots on the gravel were a soldier’s, and this was Soinnet, not the Iron Hill. Tri grimaced as if in pain.

It had been a week of recovery. Their exhausted troops had spent the days resting, mending and recharging. Soinnet had not seen action for the past few days, as other regiments had kept the enemy at bay. There were whispers that something big was brewing, something that would require all their strength, and that that was why they were being kept strangely still in this quiet village. It had been decided that the newly arrived regiment and the division stationed here would join forces for the foreseeable future. They were both decimated units that had lost many men, and could use the additional help. Sprint was thrilled at this idea, and made sure to take well care of her new friends. The other army dog in the village - a big, white, bull terrier guard - was named Notch, and he had also been glad to see the messengers join their ranks. All in all Tri liked them both.

”What were you dreaming of? Did you have a, what you say… night horse? Non. Nightmare?”

A voice with a distinct French accent broke the silence of the afternoon. Tri wasn’t sure when Sprint had returned from her hunt, but there she was.

”It did not seem like it though.” she continued. “It was a good dream, oui?”

Tri sighed. How was it that she always knew everything? Whatever he tried to hide from her, she could see right through him. And right through everyone else too.

”Yes… It was about home. I miss it.” Tri said.

”Ah, oui. I understand. So many miss ’home’. I hear the men speak of it always.”

Tri looked at her, and realised that Sprint had lived in the war all her life - it was all she had ever known. Her masters had changed from day to day, from battle to battle. Her place to rest could change at a moment’s notice. Nothing in her life was permanent. It filled Tri with an immense sadness, to think that someone like Sprint had never known home.

Sprint noticed Tri’s sombre look, and decided he needed cheering up.

”Well, Tri, mon ami - how about we go on a hunt, ah?”

”A hunt? But didn’t you just…?”

Sprint shrugged.

”Oui, but there are always more rats to capture!” she said, a mischievous expression on her face.

Tri contemplated the offer for a moment. Ginger, Nell and Aaron Fredericks were out somewhere, and it did seem like his services wouldn’t be needed again for some time yet.

”Oh, alright.” he said, got up and stretched his front legs.

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Sprint had always been chasing the rats of the trenches, but now that they were no longer in a trench, she tended to start the hunts near the soldiers’ makeshift mess - that was where all the food was kept and as such a definite place to find scavengers. Sprint sniffed around, then lay down to wait.

“You have done this before?” she asked.

“Uh, well, no. Not really.” Tri replied. “I mean, at home, at the farm, the cat would chase the rats.” he said sheepishly.

“Is that so?” Sprint sounded genuinely surprised, as if it hadn’t crossed her mind that cats chased these critters too. “Well, what you need to do is wait until they come out. They are not scared. They will skip over your paws if you wait long enough.”

Tri nodded and pricked his ears, looking for a sign of their quarry. The soldiers at the mess had noticed the dogs and were taking a keen interest in their hunt, pointing at them and smiling at each other while eating their meagre rations.

A few minutes passed and nothing happened. Tri’s thoughts were just starting to wander when Sprint tensed up beside him. She had spotted a movement near one of the dirty pots on the ground - a big, fat rat was skulking about there, nibbling on the scraps. Slowly, slowly, she rose to her paws and began to creep forward, without taking her eyes off the rat. Tri did the same, but even slower. Step by careful step, Sprint closed in on her quarry, until she suddenly exploded into action and charged ahead with great intensity and fury, dashing straight into the stacked pots and pans that toppled to the ground with a great crash. Tri stopped in his tracks, surprised by all the sudden action, and didn’t really know what to do next. Sprint was leaping about the pile of pans, barking loudly and pouncing like a cat. The soldiers were laughing and cheering her on. Sprint disappeared inside one particularly large pot, there was a struggle and a squeak, then silence. A couple of seconds later, Sprint emerged from the pot, carrying the now dead rat by its tail proudly, and trotted back towards Tri and the soldiers in what seemed like a victory lap. The men cheered and clapped as Sprint presented her trophy. A couple of soldiers tossed her treats, which she happily gobbled up. Tri was bewildered, but couldn’t help but be impressed. One truly could tell that she had done this all her life. All her life…

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Heading back to the kennels, Sprint held her head high and bounded along while merrily humming a tune to herself.

“Merci for your help!” she said as they went, and Tri looked at her, confused.

“But I… I didn’t do anything?” he said.

“Matters not!” Sprint replied, and carried on humming.

Tri remained confused.