work—for instance, if he didn’t stop when a trainer shouted “
“It’s much more fun, much more rewarding, less inhibiting than other training methods,” says Arod. “Since you don’t use compulsion or what would be considered traditional punishment, it doesn’t affect the softer dogs badly.”
Months after my visits to Lackland, I ran into dog trainer Victoria Stillwell at the American Humane Association Hero Dog Awards in Beverly Hills. She has drawn a tremendous audience by espousing positive training only. We got to talking, and I thought she’d be pretty happy with the positive training I generally saw wherever I went for the book research. But she said she still thinks there’s room for improvement in military working dog training. “You can train even really aggressive dogs in a positive manner. You don’t need to jerk a collar. Dogs should not have to have choke collars at all.”
Doc Hilliard, who has been instrumental in developing training techniques for the dog school, says that patrol can be done without any sort of correction for some special dogs, “but takes a lot of time. We don’t have this kind of time, and the dogs we get are not prepared for pure positive training.”
In my travels to military dog training areas, I have never seen anything more than a collar jerk. Even when a dog ran hundreds of yards away from his handler during off-leash exercises in the Arizona desert, he did not get chastised when the handler and an instructor found him. In fact, he got extra care. “Get him water. Take his temperature. Put him in the trailer so he has some AC.” It was no act put on because a reporter was there. You could tell this was just protocol. I was amazed at the restraint. Even I might have had a few words with Jake had he made me run a few hundred yards in 112-degree weather.
Military working dog training has changed dramatically in the last twenty years, according to Doc Hilliard. As he explains it, traditional methods used to involve compelling a dog to perform obedience by using corrections, normally by jerking or by tightening a chain choke collar. The reward was understood to be release from this pressure, combined with petting and praise. While the praise was positive, the system was fundamentally “compulsive” in outlook because the dog was not given any choices; he was compelled to do as the trainer demanded.
The system worked, but sometimes produced dogs who feared their trainers and did not like work. These days, the dog program is moving toward more “inducive” systems of training, in which training is broken into three stages. In the first stage the dog is taught what commands mean by using a reward like a Kong or a ball. This reward is used to “lure” the animal into a correct position (for example, lying down) and then the dog is rewarded. If the dog does not carry out the command, there is no penalty other than simply not giving the dog the reward. In the second phase, trainers layer on some physical correction such as a soft pop on the leash. They teach the dog that this pop on the leash is associated, for instance, with breaking the down position before permission from the handler. This is how a dog comes to understand that certain actions are associated with collar pressure and certain others with lack of collar pressure.
In the final phase, the dog learns that he must carry out commands, no matter what the situation or how many distractions. In this phase, sharper collar corrections are used, and the dog is not given the option to do as he wishes. However, throughout all three phases, even the last, rewards such as a toy are still given to the dog when he performs correctly. As a result, trainers produce a dog who understands his work clearly, understands that corrections will be associated with mistakes or disobedience, but fundamentally likes his work because he has a clear understanding of what is expected—and because he often receives rewards.
That’s not to say harsher methods are never used, at least once the dogs are beyond boot camp level. There are “harder,” very aggressive dogs for whom I’m told nothing else has worked. The trick, say the handlers, is to remain calm and in control while getting the dog’s attention via a little “ass whupping.” A dog who’s not backing off an attack on another dog or handler can be thrown on his back and slapped (not hard) on his face, for instance, and no other handlers are likely to cry foul. The idea is not to hurt the dog, but to let him know in no uncertain terms that this behavior will not be tolerated.
But every so often, a handler will go too far. These seem to be blissfully rare events, but they’re disturbing nonetheless. An out-of-control handler may kick or punch a dog, pick him up high and slam him hard to the ground, use a cattle prod, or even helicopter a dog. (The latter, unfortunately, sounds like what it is, with spinning and fear involved. It can end with a slam to the ground if the handler has really lost it.)
These methods are not only highly discouraged, an individual can be brought up on Uniform Code of Military Justice charges for abusing a dog. The consequences can range from being given extra work to loss of rank or even dog-handler status, or full court-martial that could result in a felony conviction. Marine Captain John “Brandon” Bowe says most cases never go to court-martial but are taken care of in a process called nonjudicial punishment (NJP). “Dog handlers tend to be a cut above, so NJP usually solves matters.”
Justice can come from unexpected places. It is not unheard of for instructors or other handlers to mete out quid pro quo punishment. Kick a dog hard in the belly when he’s already on his back, for instance, and don’t be surprised when what goes around comes around.
I heard about a situation that didn’t involve abuse, but accidental neglect. A handler forgot his dog in the dog trailer on a hot summer day. The AC wasn’t on, because the dogs were all supposed to be out of the trailer. The dog could have died but was found in time. So he would never forget his dog again, the handler was tied up, shoved in a kennel, and driven out to the training area. He stayed there for a few hours. There are no reports of him forgetting another dog.
With the way that dogs have become a deeply integral part of our families and our lives in the last couple of decades, it’s natural to think that the military’s stand on positive reinforcement training is a recent development— one that adheres to philosophies like the following, from a book about training war dogs:
Modern thinking, to be sure. Only the author, Lieutenant Colonel Edwin H. Richardson, founder of the British War Dog School, wrote it in 1920. It’s from his book
Richardson believed that positive reinforcement was the only way to successfully train a dog, that in the end you had to appeal to a dog’s good nature and desire to please. War-dog historian Michael Lemish says that the military followed this doctrine of positive reinforcement and never supported brutality or harsh treatment. But it hasn’t all been ear scratches and rubber balls for soldier dogs. For instance, mine-detecting dogs in World War II were frequently trained using electric shock collars.
And one form of training for sentry dogs in Vietnam sounds pretty crazy. It was called the agitation method and is described as “getting the dog excited about attacking his prey. Usually a small branch would be used and whacked across his backside to make the dog even more excited about going after his prey. It was not punishment.”
Those were some of the few real sticks officially used. These days, carrots are everything.
A handler told me about the first bomb dog he had. The dog was a veteran and knew exactly what was expected of him. “He’d be like, ‘Get my Kong ready and get set to praise me up, and I’ll go find a bomb for you.’ When you think of what this rubber toy inspires, it’s just incredible.”
The training and handling of military working dogs today just wouldn’t be the same without the Kong. It was, fittingly, a retired police dog named Fritz who inspired the creation of this hard rubber toy. Back in the mid-1970s, the German shepherd was always chewing rocks, cans, anything hard he could get his mouth around. It frustrated
