I was the most inconspicuous orderly in the Japanese military headquarters. I served tea and poured water, cleaned guns and swept the courtyard. Everyone regarded me as a useless piece of wood.
No one knows that my boss is a military dog.
His name is "Yamato", and he is the commander's favorite war dog. He has bitten the throats of three guerrillas. But it was instigated by the underground party to rebel - its tail knocked out Morse code, its feces hid intelligence notes, and its sense of smell identified traitors.
The entire headquarters was guarding against humans, and no one was guarding against a dog.
Until it was poisoned, its hind legs began to tremble, and its tail beat slower and slower. Before it died, it licked my hand and wagged its tail three times with the last bit of strength - that was the code for "retreat".
I squatted next to it, touched its head and said, "Mission accomplished, you are my best comrade-in-arms."
The war is over and I am still alive. But my soul will always remain beside the barbed wire fence of that kennel.
