I
t was late—an indistinguish-
able, bleary-eyed hour. In front
of me was a large dog, snapping
his jaws so hard that his teeth
gave a loud clack with each
bark. His eyes were locked on
me, desperate for the toy I was
holding in my hand. But he
wasn’t playing—he was freaking out.
As I cautiously held my ground, his
bark morphed from a yelp to a shout.
Then he gave a rumbling growl. That
was when my unease gave way to some-
thing far more primal: fear.
This was no ordinary dog. Dyngo, a
10-year-old, had been trained to pro-
pel his 40-kilogram body toward insur-
gents, locking his jaws around them.
He’d served three tours in Afghanistan,
weathering grenade blasts and fire-
fights. This dog had saved thousands
of lives. Now he was in my apartment
in Washington, D.C. Just 72 hours ear-
lier, I had travelled across the country
to retrieve Dyngo from Luke Air Force
Base near Phoenix, Ariz., so he could
live out his remaining years with me in
civilian retirement.
That first night, May 9, 2016, after we’d
settled into my hotel room, Dyngo sat
on the bed waiting for me. When I got
under the covers, he stretched across
the blanket, his weight heavy and com-
forting against my side. As I drifted off
to sleep, I felt his body twitch, and I
smiled: Dyngo is a dog who dreams.
The next morning, I gave him a toy
and went to shower. When I emergedfrom the bathroom, it was like step-
ping into a henhouse massacre. Feath-
ers floated in the air. Fresh rips ran
through the white sheets. In the mid-
dle of the bed was Dyngo, panting over
a pile of shredded pillows. Through-
out the morning, his rough play left
scratches where his teeth had broken
the skin through my jeans.
On the flight home, Dyngo was
allowed to sit at my feet in the roomy
first row, but he soon had bouts of vom-
iting in between his attempts to shred
the Harry Potter blanket I’d brought.
The pilot announced Dyngo’s military
status, inspiring applause from the
whole cabin. When we reached my
apartment, we both collapsed from
exhaustion. It would be our last bit of
shared peace for many months.i met dyngo in 2012 at Lackland Air
Force Base in San Antonio, Tex. I was
working on a book, War Dogs: Tales of
Canine Heroism, History and Love, and
had heard about how Dyngo had saved
many lives in Afghanistan. His bravery
had earned him and his handler, Staff
Sgt. Justin Kitts, a Bronze Star.
In early 2011, Kitts and Dyngo
boarded a helicopter on their way to a
remote outpost in Afghanistan. Dyngo
wore a wide choke chain and a vest
that said “MWD Police K-9” to indicate
that he was a military working dog.
The plan for the day was familiar. The
platoon from the U.S. Army’s 101st Air-
borne Division would make its way onreader’s digest
40 may 2020