“Lock the gate and let them tear her apart.” I heard the words through the glass before I stepped into the enclosure with three military dogs everyone else had failed to control. The men watching expected blood, screaming, and panic.

Waiting.

“How long has he been like that?”

“Since Dole died.”

I sat on the concrete outside the kennel.

For forty-seven minutes, I said nothing.

No commands.

No treats.

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No whistles.

At minute twelve, Ares stopped pacing.

At minute nineteen, Zeus moved closer.

At minute forty-seven, Thor finally lifted his head.

Then Colonel Brett Hargrove walked in.

“You were supposed to report tomorrow at 0800.”

“I’m aware.”

He explained the evaluation.

I would enter the main enclosure with all three dogs.

No protective vest.

No baton.

No secondary handler.

No clear standard for passing.