Dog Diaries 07 - Stubby Read Online Free Page A

solid. You don’t want your opponent to push you off your feet. Then your goose is cooked.”
    Sarge went along and tried to push the soldiers over. Some of them stumbled and fell. Conroy gota good, hard shove, but his feet stayed planted. Conroy’s goose is safe, I thought.
    After bayonet practice, the men marched in line with their rifles over their shoulders.
    “About FACE!” Sarge barked.
    The men all turned to face Sarge.
    “Present ARMS!” he shouted.
    The men held their rifles out in front of them. Sarge walked along and looked at the guns. Then he stood back and barked some more. The men lowered the rifle butts to the ground. Then they lifted them from the ground to their shoulders. Next, they picked the rifles up and went down on one knee. They peered down the barrels of the rifles.
    “Prepare to fire!” Sarge yelled.
    The men put their fingers on the triggers.
    “FIRE!”



S TOWAWAY !
    I was sure I was a goner. The sound knocked me clean off my feet. I squeezed my eyes shut and never expected to see daylight again. All around me, rifles EXPLODED. It was the loudest sound I had ever heard, louder than the Town Center Park on the Fourth of July when they set off those pesky fireworks.
    When the noise died down, I blinked and opened my eyes.
    I was still in one piece. The air was thick with smoke. My ears were ringing like the bell on the knife sharpener’s cart. My fur—what little I had—was standing on end. And I was shaking like a whippet on a block of ice.
    Conroy touched me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
    “Easy, boy,” he said. He patted me, smoothing my fur and speaking in a soft, gentle voice. Finally, I managed to calm down and regain my bull terrier cool.
    “These are combat drills, Stubby. We’re practicing to fight in a war,” he explained. “The bullets are blanks, so no one will get hurt, but they still make plenty of noise. We’ve got to get used to the racket so we don’t lose our heads in battle. If you want to be in the army, you’ll have to put up with it.”
    I wasn’t sure about the army, but I sure wanted to be with Conroy. And after a few days of drills, I did get used to it. In fact, it got so that when the soldiers fired their rifles, I just panted and grinned. Bring it on, boys!
    One afternoon, the guys lined up and charged at a row of soldiers. They shouted and stabbed at the men with their bayonets—and straw flew out of their bodies! What is this craziness? I ran around and barked my fool head off. Then Conroy showed me that the soldiers were just uniforms stuffed with straw. That was a relief! Still, I had to admit I liked rifle practice better than this squirrely business with the bayonets. Something about all that stabbing and yelling and flying straw just set me off.
    One day after lunch, when we were back in the Yale Bowl, Conroy knelt before me on the sidelinesand took my head in his hands. I stared at him. Today, he was wearing a helmet.
    “Stay,” he said.
    I watched as Conroy and the others got down on their bellies. Hugging their rifles and slithering along on their elbows like big snakes, they made their way through the grass. Slowly but surely, they were all crawling away from me.
    Have I said that I really hated being left behind? Sad to say, I hated it so much that I disobeyed Conroy. I got down on my belly and crawled until I had caught up with him. It was a little hard on the elbows, but kind of fun. Next thing I knew, something came whistling through the air and exploded nearby. The earth beneath me shook. The soldiers covered their heads with their arms as bits and pieces of rock and earth rained down on us. I covered my head, too, for all the good it did. Thiswas no fun after all. I guess I should have stayed put like Conroy had told me.

    But Conroy wasn’t mad. He was proud. “That’s my brave boy, Stubby,” he whispered to me from beneath his arm.
    Easy for him to say. He had that nice hard helmet on his head.
    Helmet or not, I