Four legs on the frontline

At first glance, they looked like any other litter of village puppies. Cream-coloured Labradors with oversized paws, velvet ears and that slightly bewildered look that all young dogs carry as they begin to make sense of the world. But these were not village strays tumbling through a courtyard. They sat in neat rows on the grass at the Assam Rifles dog training centre in Jorhat, their handlers standing behind them like patient schoolmasters. Nearly 200 of them. Some barely three months old, others pushing nine months and already well on their way to becoming soldiers.

When I walked into their midst, they sat perfectly still. For a few moments at least.

Then curiosity overcame discipline. Tails began to wag. One pup edged forward. Another followed. Within seconds, the entire formation collapsed into chaos as they swarmed around me like bees around a hive, licking hands, pawing at sleeves and pushing their wet noses into every pocket. Even the most hardened soldier in the room broke into a smile. Anyone who has ever been surrounded by a pack of Labrador puppies will understand that resistance is futile.

It is here, in places like Jorhat, that the Indian armed forces quietly build one of the most remarkable partnerships in modern warfare. A partnership between man and dog that stretches back thousands of years.

Recently, the courage of that partnership was displayed in dramatic fashion during Operation Trashi I in Jammu and Kashmir. A German Shepherd named Tyson, serving with 2 Para, was deployed during a counter-terrorist operation. As the encounter unfolded, Tyson moved ahead of the troops, searching for hidden militants. At some point during the operation, he was shot in the leg. For most animals that would have meant retreat. Tyson did not retreat. Injured but relentless, he continued to track the terrorists, guiding soldiers towards their positions and ensuring the operation could proceed safely.

Stories like Tyson’s rarely make headlines for long. Yet they are repeated across the length and breadth of India where dogs serve alongside soldiers, paramilitary forces and disaster response teams.

The bond between humans and dogs is ancient. Long before organised armies existed, dogs guarded camps, tracked game and stood sentinel at the edge of human settlements. This bond finds a powerful expression even in mythology. At the end of the Mahabharata, when Yudhishthira begins his final ascent to heaven, everyone who had walked beside him has fallen away. Brothers, wife, companions, all gone. Only a dog remains, quietly following him through the mountains. When the gods demand that the animal be abandoned, Yudhishthira refuses. Loyalty, he insists, cannot be repaid with betrayal. The dog is later revealed to be Dharma itself.

The story captures something fundamental about dogs. Their loyalty has few conditions.

During a recent journey through Arunachal Pradesh, I encountered that loyalty in an unexpected form. At a remote transit camp in Hunli, I was startled to see nearly 20 puppies racing across the compound. Even by dog standards, 20 was an extraordinary number. The soldiers laughed at my surprise. These pups, they explained, were the result of three separate litters, all sired by the same camp dog.

The proud father himself stood guard at the gate. I was warned that he did not like civilians. The fact that I was wearing olive green trousers and jacket might allow me to pass as a soldier. My cameramen, however, might not be so fortunate. The dog, it turned out, took his duties seriously. On one memorable occasion, he had even attacked the camp commandant after the officer had changed into civilian clothes.

The 20 pups tumbled over each other in the courtyard, fat and happy, the way most stray puppies are wherever soldiers feed them. Across India, it is common to see battalions adopting local dogs. These animals guard remote posts with surprising ferocity and quickly become mascots of the unit.

Yet service dogs are something altogether different.

Military working dogs undergo months of specialised training before they are deployed. Labrador Retrievers, German Shepherds and Belgian Malinois are among the most commonly used breeds. Selected for intelligence, stamina and temperament, they are trained to detect explosives, track human scent, locate hidden weapons and even rescue survivors trapped under rubble. The training begins early. Puppies are exposed to noise, unfamiliar environments and constant interaction with handlers. Gradually the exercises become more complex. Scent detection drills. Obedience commands. Agility courses. Helicopter rides. In some elite units, dogs are even trained to parachute with their handlers or rappel from helicopters into difficult terrain.

Across India, multiple forces maintain dog units. The Army and Assam Rifles deploy dogs along the mountainous frontiers of the Northeast and the volatile valleys of Kashmir. The Border Security Force relies heavily on sniffer dogs along the international border where explosives and contraband must be detected with precision. The Central Reserve Police Force uses dogs in counter-insurgency operations across states such as Chhattisgarh where Maoist groups often conceal improvised explosive devices along forest tracks.

In disaster zones, the National Disaster Response Force deploys highly trained search and rescue dogs capable of locating survivors buried beneath collapsed buildings. After earthquakes or landslides, these animals become the eyes and ears of rescue teams.

Even the Air Force and Navy maintain specialised canine units. At airbases, dogs patrol runways, detect explosives and guard sensitive installations. Naval bases rely on them to secure dockyards and naval facilities.

Perhaps nowhere are they more visible than with infantry units and the Indo-Tibetan Border Police that are deployed at extreme altitudes across the Himalayas. In these bleak landscapes, dogs serve not only as sentries but also as companions for soldiers stationed months away from civilisation.

Their work can be extraordinarily demanding.

Road Opening Parties moving along insurgency-prone highways depend heavily on sniffer dogs to detect buried explosives. A single missed device can cost multiple lives. The dogs move slowly along the road surface, noses close to the ground, reading the invisible world of scent with astonishing precision.

Search operations in dense forests present a different challenge. Here tracker dogs follow the faintest human scent trails, sometimes hours old. Even in rain-soaked terrain, they can guide soldiers through thickets and ravines where human trackers would struggle.

In counter-terrorist operations, dogs are often the first to enter buildings suspected of harbouring militants. Their presence reduces risk for soldiers who might otherwise walk blindly into ambush.

Stories of bravery are not uncommon. In 2017, a Belgian Malinois named Axel from the Army’s dog unit located terrorists hiding inside a building during an encounter in Kashmir. Despite sustaining injuries, he continued to engage the militants until the operation was complete. Such acts of courage are honoured by the military with ceremonial burials and full respect accorded to fallen soldiers. Yet beyond their operational role, dogs perform another function that is harder to quantify.

They provide emotional stability.

For soldiers deployed in isolated posts far from family, the presence of a dog can transform daily life. A wagging tail at the end of a patrol. A warm body curled beside a bunk during freezing nights. These small comforts matter more than most civilians realise.

Across remote border outposts, dogs become silent witnesses to the routines of military life. They accompany patrols, share rations and wait patiently outside bunkers while soldiers discuss operations inside.

The relationship is mutual. Dogs read human emotions with uncanny sensitivity. A tired soldier returning from patrol rarely remains tired for long when greeted by an exuberant canine companion.

Yet this relationship also carries complications. Where troops feed stray dogs in large numbers, feral populations can expand rapidly. In fragile ecological zones, particularly in high altitude regions, these dogs sometimes turn to hunting wildlife. Studies in the Himalayas have documented feral dogs preying on species such as black-necked cranes and Himalayan gazelles. Managing this balance between compassion and ecological responsibility remains an ongoing challenge.

Military working dogs themselves require constant care. Veterinary teams monitor their health closely. Diet, exercise and regular medical check-ups are essential to maintain performance. After years of service, many dogs are retired and adopted by their handlers or by civilian families willing to provide them with a peaceful final chapter.

Watching a trained service dog at work is to witness an extraordinary convergence of instinct and discipline. The animal moves with purpose, guided by scent cues invisible to human senses. Every twitch of the nose carries meaning. Every pause signals evaluation.

Yet when the work ends, the soldier often kneels beside the dog, scratching its ears or offering a treat. In that moment, the formidable working animal becomes simply a dog again.

The ancient partnership continues.

From the mythic dog that followed Yudhishthira into the mountains to modern K9 heroes like Tyson, the story remains unchanged. Dogs stand beside humans in moments of danger, hardship and quiet companionship.

Across India’s borders, forests, mountains and disaster zones, they continue to serve with a loyalty that requires no oath.

And perhaps that is why soldiers trust them so completely.

— Shiv Kunal Verma is a writer and photographer whose work explores the intersection of landscape, history and conflict. He lives in Kullu with four dogs and six cats