When he was two feet away, he crouched down. He nabbed her behind the head, where he guessed there would be a rubber gasket for the gas mask, just like on his own. She jerked against him, trying to pull away, but the attempt was weak, and all it did was make her legs skid out from under her.

He felt around the gasket, tangles of moist fur against his fingers, until he came to the buckle of a leather collar. He fumbled with it, almost losing his grip, until he released the catch, and the gas mask came away in his hands.

Banjo shook her head, tall ears making a rushing sound like sails billowing with wind, and Lee stood up to see her better, whispering, “Good girl,” as she jumped for his throat.

Her jump was simple, up and then down, connecting on the ascent with Lee’s forearm, which he had pitched over his windpipe. Something tingled on his side and his knee, and only when she was again on the ground did he realize she had bitten him three more times before landing.

With a growl, she launched again, and Lee went down on his stomach, lacing his fingers behind his neck, and the thought of losing them made him close his eyes and cry, “Shit! Shit!”

The attack did not come. Lee could hear Banjo panting.

He opened his eyes. Her legs were tucked under her, and she was lopsidedly leaning on her front paws, adjusting them again and again. Her face looked calm but alert, almost anticipatory. For, having heard his cry, she had done the best she could, and had tried to sit.

Lee fed Banjo some M&V rations and led her to the river, where he washed her down with soap and disinfectant. She did not like his touching her, so he tied a strap around her snout to keep her from biting. As he washed her, he told her that one day she wouldn’t need the strap, and they would be friends. He kept her in a four-foot cage that had once belonged to the Signal Corps, for carrier pigeons.

The men of the 135th were curious to see her back, but not overjoyed, in that she hadn’t been much of a dog in the first place. That she was about to have puppies struck them as a terrible idea. Still, after meals, men tended to throw her some grub, and now that she was boxed up in plain sight, they talked to her or banged the heels of their hands against her cage, to make her startle (for luck), as they passed to their airplanes.