A boy and his dog in a war zone

AS a dog owner, I have often questioned the extent of my golden retriever’s intelligence. Here is a creature that can’t seem to get it through his head that every morsel removed from the refrigerator is not destined for his stomach. Despite his simple-mindedness, however, he can be remarkably patronizing -- at times I’ve tried coaxing him outside with a dog biscuit, only to be served a withering look. It’s then that I’ve seriously doubted possessing an evolutionary advantage. And after reading Cynthia Kadohata’s young adult novel “Cracker! The Best Dog in Vietnam,” I am resigned to the fact that I probably don’t.

In “Cracker,” Newbery Medal winner Kadohata once again strikes literary gold with this tale of a boy and his dog. That both are fighting for their lives and the lives of entire platoons in Vietnam makes this story all the more engaging. But because Kadohata keeps her writing simple and direct, we don’t feel overwhelmed by grandiose themes -- her emphasis remains on the moving experiences of the two main characters.

Rick Hanski is a small-town Wisconsin kid who, throughout the book, declares that he is going to “whip the world.” This cocky determination, combined with glimpses of typical teenage self-doubt, make Rick a compelling, if not always likable, character. Balking at his dad’s assumption that he will take over the family hardware store, Rick enlists in the Army as a dog handler. It’s a good plan, one that will undoubtedly allow him to whip the world, though now with a canine sidekick. Cracker, on the other hand, really just wants a master who sticks around for a while. When she first meets Rick, she’s sullen and snarly and not about to trust some brash kid who’s never owned a dog. Their first days of training are rocky, almost comedic, but a few furtively offered wieners (it’s against Army regulations to bribe the dogs with treats) and one heart-to-heart later, wariness has turned to respect, trust and true affection.

In such novels as “Kira-Kira” and “Weedflower,” Kadohata demonstrated her remarkable ability to pull the reader into a character’s psyche, and here she succeeds again. In “Cracker,” she manages to place readers inside the mind of an intuitive, fiercely loyal German shepherd; there are moments you find yourself craving a good scratch behind the ears. She moves seamlessly between Rick’s and Cracker’s viewpoints, and if I have any criticism of this book, it is that perhaps she moves too seamlessly. I had a few moments’ pause wondering from whose vantage point I was looking -- not many, but a few.

Through Cracker’s eyes, Kadohata often gives us a stripped-down view of the world, reinforcing Rick’s powerfully simple statement, “People see what they want. Dogs see what they see.” It was Cracker’s uncanny ability to sense what the soldiers all around him could not -- land mines, booby traps, the jungle-hidden enemy -- that had me looking at my own four-legged pet with new respect.

The book is intended for an audience from roughly fifth to ninth grade. Before I would hand this book to my fifth-grade son (and I plan to), I’d prepare him for the few intense battle scenes that underscore the old cliche that war is hell. To be a realistic portrayal of this war, in which, according to some estimates, more than 50,000 American soldiers and 280 scout dogs were killed, the novel must describe some of the grisly experiences of soldiers in the field. Kadohata’s other details -- cigarette smoking, a modest amount of raw language and some ogling at Vietnamese girls -- are also meant to expose young readers to how the soldiers coped.

Not surprisingly, the moment of truth for Rick and Cracker comes after a particularly intense showdown with the Viet Cong enemy. Both characters are confronted with the realness of war, of life and of death, knowing that, even though it “all sucked it was just so damn real. And the fact that it was so damn real made it suck more, but it also made it suck less.” I could relate to that. Through Kadohata’s characters, who battle seen and unseen enemies (only to be separated when they need each other the most), we gain perspective on the defining, sometimes difficult moments of our own everyday lives: when you shakily sign the loan documents on your first mortgage, for example, or barely miss getting sideswiped on the freeway. Yes, I could relate. And I think that the teens and preteens who read this book will as well.

Erin Fry is a former middle school teacher who writes textbook materials for the Teachers’ Curriculum Institute.