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Commanding Officer x K9 Handler (Semper Fi x desperado1089)

S

Semper Fi

Supernova
Joined
Aug 22, 2012
Location
USA
Sergeant Katherine Doyle hopped out of the helicopter, a big ass dark sable German Shepherd at her side. She had a big duffel bag thrown over one shoulder, it held only what she needed for a few days, the rest of her gear was being delivered. Dressed in her fatigues, her K9 on a leash, wearing a big leather muzzle she stood in the shade, Kat had been told to wait there for her new CO. The 28 year old soldier knew little about the new team that she was joining, except that they had a need for a K9 team, particularly a team that could detect explosives and do apprehensions. She wasn't expecting to be greeted with open arms, in general teams were happy to have Zero, her K9, but they weren't happy to have his female handler with them. But that didn't matter much to Kat, she was here to do a job, whether she was liked or not, it didn't change the fact that she had to do her job.

She set her duffel bag at her feet to wait, it wouldn't be the first time a CO left her standing for hours on end. The last unit had eventually begrudgingly tolerated her with minimal fuss, Kat had almost been sad to leave them, but there was a desperate need for K9 handlers, and a severe lack of qualified teams, so this assignment took priority, and she'd been told by her last CO that she'd be with these guys for 9 months before going on leave. It would make this deployment almost two years long, not that Kat minded, she didn't exactly have anything to go home for. Growing up as a foster kid, she'd bounced homes until she was seventeen, where she got permission from the state to join the military. She had no family, and no real friends, so her time stateside on leave was generally boring. She often ended up picking up jobs around base, in whatever capacity they could use a K9, though she was not formally an MP, if they didn't have enough K9s for whatever it was they were doing, she'd be loaned out to the MPs while stateside.

She lowered a hand to rub her dog's head, Zero was a massive 110 pound German shepherd, meaner than a rattlesnake, Kat was one of the only handlers that could work him. But for whatever reason Kat got along with him well enough, and they made an incredible team. Her pale eyes glanced around the base, watching the comings and goings, it seemed like it was a fairly busy base, which gave Kat hope that this new team that she was on would put her and her dog to work.
 
Thirty-five year old Major John Austen, USMC, 11th Marine Expeditionary Unit, watched the Black Hawk fly away beyond the mountains of Syria from a shaded post. He was scheduled to have his command duties relieved five months ago, as he took over for both officers above him when they were killed in an IED blast, but as usual things didn't go as planned. Now here comes someone else to add to the 2,200-person roster, he thought. And each one I need to worry about getting killed under MY watch. Just like that last K-9 handler.

He sighed, and straightened up, not wanting to revisit that memory, and crossed the bustling thoroughfare to where the...Oh no, he thought when he spotted the new arrival. Oh no, no, no. Not again. But John still kept pressing forward, determined to let this be a new leaf, a second chance to let the past remain where it is and for this woman to, hopefully, make it back home. Sgt. Doyle saluted him smartly when he approached, which he returned. "Welcome to FOB Alpha-Two-Niner. We tend not to name things too much fancier, even though we've been here for ten damn years." He made a face; MEU's weren't supposed to put down roots for this long. But such was the nature of the War on Terror. "I ordered a Humvee for the grand tour, but it seems they're late. Wait, here it...oh no." The damn thing had a pink, lacy bra waving from its antenna as it pulled up, with bright pink spray paint on the sides spelling out words too damn misogynistic for him to think about as John reached into the driver's seat and bodily threw the man to the ground. "WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS??", he thundered dangerously. Meanwhile, a chorus of laughter rose up from a nearby picnic table, where four of the men were playing cards, all of them with pink spots on their uniforms. John stormed over to the table and upended it. "LATRINE DUTY FOR ALL OF YOU UNTIL WE'RE STATESIDE! YOU MAY HAVE YOUR OPINIONS BUT THEY BELONG INSIDE YOUR EMPTY GODDAMN HEADS! AM I CLEAR, MAGGOTS?" The men all mumbled, "yes sir," gathering up their things. Meanwhile, John personally went to the motor pool and returned to where Sgt. Doyle was with an unmolested Humvee. "I'm sorry about that, Sergeant. Have you ever had them be that immature before?"
 
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She saw the man as he approached, her K9 gave a low rumble in his throat, it took him a while to warm up to a new team. A sharp salute from the dog's handler while her free hand gave a sharp tug of the leash to correct the dog for growling st their new CO. Kat just gave a low chuckle at the name, it didn't surprise her. Nor did the display on the Humvee as it arrived. She gave no indication that she noticed the pink bra or the pink words spray painted on the side. Internally she felt her gut clench, she wasn't looking to pick fights here.

She knew her record would show a "history of insubordination and fighting". When in reality there was a history of her being either metaphorically or physically backed into a corner and forced to defend herself. Another reason why she rarely stuck around one team for long, either she got her ass kicked or she kicked ass, either way it was blamed on her and she was shuffled off to the next team.

Kat remained where she was while the CO bellowed at the men, her dog stood from his sit, feeling agitated with the yelling.

Truly she didn't mind the pranks, she knew it was part of joining a new base and a new team, as long as the jokes and pranks were harmless, she could handle it, she'd even find it amusing, like the pink bra on the humvee, at least they were getting creative.

Soon enough her CO returned with a new humvee, she put her gear in and her dog before she slid inside. "Yes Sir, I have. And much worse." She said as she shut her door and settled into her seat.
 
"I know," John said sympathetically. "You were given the big green weenie, and that don't sit right with me. So long as you're under my command, you'll not have to worry about being railroaded off the team for defending yourself." He put the vehicle in gear and gave Kat the tour he promised: the heliport where the aviation section was housed, the motor pool where all the IFV's and other armored vehicles were stored, the barracks, mess facilities, and all the rest that made up a Marine Expeditionary Unit. He chattered animatedly about everything they saw; inside, however, he could not help but think of how he had given this same tour to the last K-9 handler, the one who was killed.

"What's the dog's name, again? Zero, right? He looks like he could tear the face off a giant. I'm impressed you can handle him. Hopefully, he'll learn to trust me. I have a German Shepherd at home, but I had to have one of my buddies take him in full-time when I joined the Corps. I miss him." John stopped the vehicle at the officer's quarters. "Since all the rooms here are individual occupancy, and you're one of only three women here, you get to live like the brass does. One last thing, Sergeant. If the men give you any trouble at all, you come straight to me, understand? I'd make it an order, but I don't want to sound like I think you can't handle yourself. Just, know that I got your back, Marine. No matter what."
 
Kat simply shrugged, "It is what it is." She said, clearly she'd accepted that she would have to fight for her spot on any team she joined. Tilting her head, she observed him when he said that she wouldn't be railroaded while under his command. Others had said the same, so only time would tell, but she said, "Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that." When he asked about her dog she instinctively glanced back at the dog. "Yes, his name is Zero." The dog perked up, hearing his name from his handler.

"He'll warm up to the team in time. By nature, the dog isn't friendly, but he becomes tolerant after a while." She said with a slight smirk. Her forearm bared the scars of Zero's teeth when he bit her upon their first meeting. The room accommodations didn't entirely surprise her, after all, she was frequently one of the only women, and often one of the only K9 handler's on base. She often was allowed to bunk alone, if only to prevent her K9 from taking a chunk out of another soldier. Glancing back at her CO, she said, "If it gets to something I can't handle, I'll let you know." She said, though she knew that running to the CO wouldn't win her any point with the team.

Climbing out of the truck, she grabbed her duffel bag and her dog. "I should have more equipment for my K9 arriving within the next day or so." She said to her CO as she rounded the front of the vehicle, waiting for him to lead the way to the room that would be hers for the next 9 months.
 
"Actually, I made Zero's equipment a top priority," John said as Kat grabbed her seabag from the vehicle. "The IED problem around here is worse than anyone's let on. The goal is to have you both combat-ready first thing tomorrow, if not sooner." He led her into the building and picked up a small assault pack from the guard desk. "I saw from the manifest that they 'forgot' to give you one of these. Next I'll hear those knuckle-draggers in Kuwait 'forget' to give you your goddamn vest." He shook his head distastefully and handed her the bag. "This way." John led Kat down a hallway and stopped at a door with a "doggy door" cut into the wood. "For Zero, naturally," he said, gesturing towards the smaller opening. He took a key from his pocket--he had specifically gathered all the keys to this room after its previous occupant was KIA--and opened the door, his normal calm almost shattering in an instant as he remembered her smell, the way her hair fell out of that bun she kept it in, the way she tasted...Tears came unbidden to his eyes, as he crossed the room and blew out a candle that was burning in front of her photo on the nightstand, taking a set of dog tags off a wall hook that hung below a crucifix on the wall above the nightstand. "Your predecessor," he said thickly, handing Kat the tags. "You know the story."
 
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Kat quirked a brow when he said he made Zero's equipment a priority, maybe things would be different here. More than once Zero's equipment had been 'lost' in transit and taken days or weeks to arrive, which was now why she traveled with a weeks worth of dog food in her duffel bag. "We're operational as soon as you want to throw us in the field." She said firmly. Kat believed in hitting the ground running. Smirking as he mentioned then forgetting to give her a vest, "Actually last time it was my weapons." She said as she took the bag from him. Following him inside, she smiled at first as she saw the dog door. That frown slipped away as she saw the shrine to the last handler. Kat could see the emotion in the CO's eyes and she remained quiet until he spoke. "She was a damn good Marine and a fine handler. Her hand closed around the tags that he offered. It wasn't the first time that she'd been brought in to replace a handler. She always left their picture up in the room, and she left a dog tag with it, while she attached the other tag to herself in some fashion, as a way of keeping the team's lost member with them. She wanted to honor the team member who was gone, and let them still be with their team in a small way.
 
"She was special," John admitted. He didn't need to carry her dog tag with him; he had around his neck the ring he had planned to give her once her enlistment period was up. They had gotten so close, he had planned to ask her to marry him. But ISIL ruined that. His face darkened again as he recalled her comment about her weapons. "'Every Marine is, first and foremost, a Rifleman'," he quoted from training manuals. "So by denying you your weapon, this shit-stain quartermaster essentially said you were less than a Marine." Fists clenched, he took a breath before continuing. "I bet it's that snake Johnson. This was back in 2015 before we withdrew from Afghanistan, right?" He knew he was; Kat's first assignment was when she was barely out of basic, in support of OEF. This was her first combat stint since, so the "last time" was a little over five years ago. "Well you might be pleased to know that scumbag is now in the mail room at Quantico. Hardly ever sees the light of day when he's on the clock." Smiling in a self-satisfied manner, as he had had something to do with that, he noticed a glaring absence from her gear. "Where is your M27?", he asked, referencing the M27 Infantry Automatic Rifle, or IAR, the weapon that was being phased in as the standard-issue USMC rifle.
 
Kat didn't say anything, but she got the distinct impression that the CO was a lot closer to the last K9 handler than most people thought. "Well, a lot of people think like him. I'm tolerated because they want a good dog on their team, and Zero is arguably one of the best." She shrugged, the quartermaster wouldn't be the first to consider her less than a Marine. Then she nods, "Yeah it was," When he asked when it was. She couldn't resist the grin when he said that Johnson was in a mailroom now. She set her duffel bag on the bed as he asked about her M27. "I was told to surrender my weapons before I left my last base, was told I'd be assigned new weapons when I arrived here." She said, as she took off Zero's muzzle. The dog gave a full body shake, before nuzzling his head into her palm. She unclipped the dog's leash, "Go lay down," She murmured, the dog happily walked over and found a spot to lay down. The dog was a working machine, he'd go all day without hesitation, but like most soldiers, he'd learned the value of catching some Z's any chance he got.
 
"A K9 is only as good as their handler," John said firmly. "If Zero is the best K9, then Kat is the best handler." He smiled wanly at her when she mentioned "surrendering her weapons". Another thing that needs to change. "Most of the boys just pack their guns in hard cases and take them with them. But since our local artists--you know, the ones who like to use pink--are stuck in the FOB cleaning out latrines for the next God-knows-how-long, they won't need their rifles, now will they? And as for your sidearm..." He drew his own, a modernized 1911 that he had bought from home, with a sleek all-black finish. Ejecting the magazine, setting it on the nightstand, and working the slide so the chambered round popped out, he caught the .45 caliber slug deftly and set it down as well, handing Kat the weapon butt-first. "I'll draw something else for myself from the armory. This is only until you rotate out, all right?"
 
She chuckled slightly, "He makes me look good," She knew she was a good handler, but she felt her dog far exceeded her. Chuckling a bit she nodded when he said that she could use one of the rifles from the guys on latrine duty. Tilting her head she watched him unload his sidearm and offer it to her. Taking it, she examined it. "Thank you." She said "I'll make sure you get it back in the same condition when I rotate home." She knew that after this tour she'd be heading state side for a little while. She stepped over and loaded the gun before sliding it into the empty thigh holster that she had on her left leg. Zero perked up slightly at the sound of a weapon being loaded. "Well, we're ready whenever you need us, whether that's today or tomorrow." She said.
 
"Ooh-rah," John said enthusiastically, and just as he was about to leave Kat to get settled, a knock came on the door. "Come!", he shouted, in the naval tradition. The door opened to admit one of the men who worked in the supply terminal, a Lance Corporal he couldn't recall the name of at the moment. He had the rest of Zero's equipment, as promised. "Good man, Corporal," John said as the young man saluted once relieved of his burden. Returning the gesture, John ordered, "Get this lady Sergeant Espinoza's IAR with all the attendant accessories and cleaning supplies, on the double!" "Aye aye, Sir!", he said, scurrying off to do as he was told. "Espinoza was the highest-ranking man involved in the prank," John explained. "I'll be assembling a patrol in half an hour. Be at the south gate by then. That, Sergeant, is an order." He winked, as if saying, It's not my fault I'm a Major and you're a Sergeant, before departing to prepare for their first foray outside the green zone since his girlfriend was KIA.
 
Kat stood watching as Zero's supplies and miscellaneous things of hers was delivered. Nodding a thank you to the Corporal before Major Austen gave his next order, sending the younger man scuttling out of the room. When he told her to be ready in a half hour, she nodded, "Yes, Sir." She watched him go before shutting the door, then sitting on her bed. "Well, pal, here we are," She said, rubbing the dog who had come over to lean against her. She spent fifteen minutes getting things unpacked and settled in, assembling Zeros' crate, organizing his food, leashes, bowls, brushes, collars, harnesses, training aides and various other things he needed. Her rifle was delivered promptly and Kat made sure it was in working order before she got Zero harnessed, and got her vest on. She attached all the various pieces of equipment she needed and then left her room, with Zero leashed and muzzled. She approached the south gate five minutes before her 30 minutes were up.
 
John and the rest of the two dozen men were not far behind Kat. The Major carried an FN SCAR-H, military designation MK17, a hard-hitting 7.62mm rifle with an underbarrel grenade launcher. Strapped to his assault pack was a Remington 870-series shotgun, with a shortened barrel and pistol grip. "All right, lissen-up! Since the brass took their sweet-ass time getting us another K-9, we don't know how close they might have planted their little booby traps! So anything beyond our five-hundred yard perimeter outside the fence is suspect, but since they know we only have one way to go, they'll have their crap setup on the road! Sergeant Doyle! That's where you come in! You all know what to do. Move out! Doyle, you're on point!"
 
Kat saw the men coming and this time there was no chatter, no teasing, they were all ready to work. It was nice coming onto a team that already knew what to do with a K9 team. Listening intently she nodded, unmuzzling Zero she attached a thirty foot line to his harness and took his short leash off. With Kst on point they left the south gate. Immediately she signaled Zero "Suk!" The dog moved forward, he walked with purpose but wasn't rushing, scenting the ground as he reached the end of the thirty foot line. Slowly Kat advanced, following the dog. She kept her eyes on the dog, reading him, having to trust the new team to guard her while she worked. They walked for only four minutes before her dog frozen up, staring ahead of him and to the left slightly, signaling to an explosive device hidden beneath the dirt.
 
John saw the dog, recognized the signal, and followed the point he made and spotted the hastily replaced mound of dirt. "Good boy, Zero! You too, Doyle! EOD! Front and center!" The Navy Explosive Ordinance Disposal man hustled forward and set to work digging up and defusing the device, and after a few tense moments, he gave a thumbs-up signal. The men snapped their eyes and gunsights to the ridgelines, knowing that whether their bomb exploded or was successfully defused, ISIL usually ambushed them whenever they came through here.

They did not disappoint.

About nine fighters started peppering them with AK-47 fire, while a tenth seemed to be scrambling for a good place from which to fire his RPG. John didn't give him the chance, firing a single shot from his SCAR and watching the RPG gunner crumple like a heap before he started engaging the rest.
 
As soon as the EOD specialist located the explosive she reeled Zero back in to her. "What a good man," she rubbed the dog, rewarding him with his toy for a brief moment before returning to work. As soon as the gunfire started Kat ordered Zero to her side as she began to return fire. Adrenaline flooding she never felt the bullet graze her right shoulder, ripping her uniform, blood dripping down her arm.

She wasn't sure where it came from but a bullet slammed into her chest, knocking her back on her ass. Gasping for air it took her a minute to get air in her lungs "God Damn it," she snarled.

"I'm good, I'm good," she said as she rolled to her feet, still breathing raggedly.
 
"Doyle! Fuck!" John let fly a grenade from his rifle, dispatching a group of fighters who had bunched too close together. The others soon fell like dominoes, and Austen gave the command to cease fire as he rushed forward to check on Kat. "Zero! Down!", he commanded sharply; the German Shepherd seemed to realize the circumstances and moved aside from protecting his master.

Noticing the blood, he yelled, "Corpsman!" and gently prodded the vest where the bullet had hit. Thankfully, the armor plates hadn't shattered. They'd still need to be replaced, but the worst she'd get from that are some bruised ribs. The corpsman arrived a moment later, bandaging up her arm and checking the vest as John had just done. Meanwhile he radioed the FOB to send out a Humvee for CASEVAC.

The men were mounting the ridge atop the ravine walls, checking bodies for intel or perhaps souvenirs. One of them shouted, "Major! We gotta live one!" He immediately dashed off to where the wounded IS fighter lay in the sand, face-down but obviously breathing. There was no blood, no evidence of his being wounded; John shouldered his rifle and pulled out his shotgun, smelling a trap. Sure enough, the bastard rolled over with a battle cry and let off a shot from a pistol at the same time John fired his shotgun. The fighter's head exploded in a bloody mess, but John wouldn't have seen it, as the pistol slug had hit him in his helmet, knocking him out cold.
 
Kat groaned, "I'm okay." She said as the Major was checking her over, Zero thankfully stood out of the way, not all that pleased about the strange man touching his handler, but he didn't cause any problems. She sat in the dirt as the Corpsman cleaned her arm, bandaged it and then checked her vest. "You're good to go," He said after a minute, but you'll need proper stitches back at base, and then 72 hours off." Kat just nodded, "Uh huh." She said as she stood up, she had always had a lack of care for her own safety, right now she just wanted back in the fight.

Seeing the Major go down there was a flood of activity, Kat was the closest to him so she took a defensive position with her K9, guarding the Major and the Corpsman who immediately started treating him. But it seemed the firefight was over, the others were looking for any survivors "How's he doing Corpsman?" Kat asked, "Seems stable, slug is lodged in his helmet, but it didn't penetrate. Knocked him unconscious but he's in one piece."

It seemed the group took a collective sigh now that their leader was okay, or at least okayish. As soon as reinforcements arrived they'd be heading back to base to get their wounded treated.
 
After a few minutes, another twenty-four men came out to where they were, trailing behind a Humvee that had room for two stretchers in the back. The men loaded John onto one of them and helped Kat onto the other; instead of a dog, one of them carried a military-grade mine detector. Speaking of which, Zero had of course hopped up into the vehicle next to his master. They drove back to base in silence, the corpsman from their team driving. Pulling up to the infirmary, two other medical staff members came hustling out for John; the corpsman helped Kat inside so they could get her properly stitched up. As they all went inside the large tent, John stirred. "The fuck?", he said groggily. Looking down at his vest, he saw a piece of the fighter he had killed a few minutes ago. "I get that Intelligence might've wanted to pick his brain, but god damn." He grinned, plucking the bit of bloody flesh off of himself and flinging it aside.
 
Kat argued a bit about the stretcher, she wasn't that hurt, she could move just fine under her own power, but then one of the Corpsman poked her in her ribs and she winced. "Uh huh, get your ass on the stretcher," Glaring mildly she did as instructed, with Zero trailing her as the ever loyal shadow. Once they had arrived back at base, Kat was ushered into the tent to get stitched up. She stripped off her vest and then her uniform shirt, leaving her in a black tank top so that she could get stitched up. Glancing over as she heard the Major waking, she couldn't help the snicker of amusement at his words, "Nice to see you awake, Boss," Kat said as she flinched when they injected her with a numbing agent in the shoulder. While they waited for that to kick in, she was instructed to lift her shirt so that they could look at her ribs. She already had some splashes of bruises on her skin.
 
"Thanks, Sarge," he said, taking off his helmet and staring at it wistfully. "Damn, we been through some shit, huh? Gonna miss you." He tossed it onto an empty hospital bed, then allowed the medical staff to perform their usual head injury tests. When they were finished, he couldn't help but glance at Kat's sexy, toned stomach. A bit of pink lace peeked out at him. As the medical staff walked off to check John's test against the acceptable standards for returning to duty, and to wait for the numbing agent in Kat's arm to kick in, he leaned in and whispered, "Am I gonna have to write you up for non-regulation undergarments?" His tone was teasing, joking even, and if she would look his way, he would be wearing a huge, shit-eating grin.
 
Kat raised a brow at him, glancing over at him, "Only if you want me to stop wearing them," She said with her own taunting grin as she leaned back against the upright back of the gurney, perhaps intentionally exposing a bit more of her non-regulation underwear. A slow sigh escaped as she felt the numbing agent kicked in, dulling the pain in her arm. She'd ended up pulling her tank top off while they'd examined her ribcage, so now she sat in her uniform pants and a black sports bra. There wasn't a hint of shyness, she'd long ago gotten over any modesty issues she might have. Such things couldn't exist in the Marines. Soon enough the medic came back and starting stitching her shoulder. The pain was numbed, not erased, so occasionally her face flinched from the pain but she held still, allowing the medic to put the four stitches in her shoulder.
 
John watched Kat get stitched up in silence, admiring her athletic form. When they finished and walked off again, John smiled and said, "Maybe I should order you to get rid of it right now." Any chance for her to retort was temporarily cut off by the Navy Commander who was in charge of the infirmary coming over and recommending that John get 72 hours' rest to make sure there are no lingering effects from his head injury. "Not only could I pull rank, but it'll probably take that long for a new helmet to get here anyway." He was right on both counts, John admitted to himself; he'd have to be promoted at least once to be of equal grade as the doctor. He didn't usually refuse doctors' orders anyway, so he assented and the older man walked away, satisfied. Turning back to Kat, John said, "Now, where were we?"
 
Kat opened her mouth to retort, but she shut it quickly as the Navy Commander came in to talk to the Major. Once they were alone again, she eyed him with amusement glittering in her pale grey eyes, "I do believe you were trying to get me to take my underwear off." She snickered as she slid off the gurney, carefully tugging her tank top on and then her uniform shirt, though she didn't button the uniform shirt, since she was planning on changing as soon as she got back to her room. "How's the head feeling?" She asked the Major as she grabbed the rest of her gear that she'd dumped in the corner before getting patched up.
 
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