Zack was muttering about his miserable his life had become.
University student one day, half-wolf unpaid minion the next.
He was rudely awaken by a drill.
"ACHTUN" said a new voice, this one with a German accent. "DUTY - Dogs of KENNEL A" "REPORT"
There was a rush to get dressed, equipment, and before he knew it, Zack was in a transport with some other dog soldiers, armed to the teeth with rifle and hand grenade.
They had no meat or fresh water. Just bags of dog biscuits, and stale water.
Zack gobbled down the biscuits, savouring the liver and horse meat.
"Man," he said to himself, he felt like sobbing.
But he slobbered it up, just the same.
Some of the other troops ate relucantantly, in the depths of despair. Others gobbled it up, as he did, but with considerably more relish.
Hours later, the troops jumped up to a university campus. His university campus.
There was some sort of demonstration. The damned dog whistle sounded.
One long blast. Two short.
That meant attack - and take no prisoners.
Zack was conflicted. And so were a couple others.
"ACHTUN - failure to obey orders will result in court martial
. . .-in other words, they'd kick him out?" thought Zack with surprise.
. . . which means reassignment to KENNEL B - no guns.