From selection to retirement, elite multipurpose canines are the silent Green Berets who don't always bask in the spotlight but are equally deserving of it.
These four-legged warriors of the Army Special Forces undergo rigorous vetting, endure the same hardships as their human teammates and retire with the dignity of professionals. Their careers mirror those of the special operators they serve alongside, forging bonds that often transcend their time in the military.
In the shadows of America's most exclusive fighting force, these dogs prove that courage, loyalty and sacrifice aren't exclusive to the men and women who wear the uniform — a testament to Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth's warfighting focuses on meritocracy, standards and lethality.
For one Special Forces dog handler — an 18D medic whose identity remains classified, like that of his canine partner — the connection with his dog is as much a brotherhood as any forged among the soldiers of his team.
"He's a … soldier himself," the handler said. "He gets a seat in the vehicle, a seat in the helicopter and he's as much a member of the team as anyone else."
He's also a gifted tracker whose natural talent elevates him above his peers and has earned him an exclusive position within the Army's special operations community, his handler said.
Selection
The journey begins with a selection process not unlike the grueling assessments faced by human candidates aspiring to join the Special Forces community. Before a canine sets a paw in the Army Special Forces kennels, the dog undergoes a battery of evaluations that include X-rays, physical exams and behavioral screenings.
"They get screened just like we do," the handler said.
The goal is to identify Belgian Malinois with the physical resilience and mental clarity to thrive in the chaos of special operations — a rigorous standard aligned with the defense secretary's vision.
Not every dog makes the cut. Some assessments reveal health issues — hidden until the strain of leaping from helicopters or sprinting toward enemy combatants takes its toll. Others lack the temperament to balance aggression with control. Army Special Forces seek a rare breed that's levelheaded yet fierce, capable of biting a combatant on command while remaining calm under pressure.
"We're going against hundreds of years of breeding that taught dogs not to bite humans," the handler said. "But we need them to do it professionally — until I say, 'no more.'"
Much like a soldier overcoming the instinct to avoid violence, these dogs are trained to channel their prey drive into precision. The result is a canine operator that can lock onto a target with unwavering focus, holding steady until the mission demands otherwise.
Service
Once selected, canines integrate into Army Special Forces as full-fledged team members. They ride alongside their handlers in planes, helicopters and wheeled vehicles, their presence accounted for in every plan.
"You don't plan for the dog to be on the floor," the handler said. "He gets a seat."
This isn't just a courtesy — it's a recognition of the dog's role. They are assets, trained in explosive detection, tracking and apprehension, often deployed on direct-action raids where split-second decisions mean life or death.
The parallels to their human counterparts deepen in combat. Just as Green Berets face the unnatural stress of gunfire and explosions, their dogs endure the same.
"It's not natural for a dog to be around that," the handler admits.
The demanding nature of their service can leave a lasting impact on these courageous dogs. Some, after enduring multiple deployments, return profoundly altered, unable to carry on. Others, scarred by the intense pressures of even a single tour, find themselves needing a different kind of life away from the frontlines. Their struggles serve as a poignant reminder of their sensitivity and the invisible wounds they carry.
Still, many dogs soldier on, their intelligence and work ethic shining through.
The dogs have high IQs and learn to associate stressors — like the roar of a helicopter — with the job, thriving in the pack mentality of the team, the handler said.
"Everyone smells the same, dresses the same, gives off the same endorphins," he said. "The dog knows we're going to work, and they love it."
The physical toll of life on a Special Forces team is equally humanlike. The dogs break teeth, rip toenails and jam necks chasing down threats with blatant disregard for their well-being. Preventative surgeries are standard procedure. When injuries occur veterinary services mirror the actions of medics who patch up their two-legged teammates.
Retirement
When a canine's service ends, the parallels between their human counterpart persists. Retirement isn't a haphazard affair — it's a deliberate transition, reflecting the canine's contributions to the team.
Dogs too rattled for further Special Forces missions often move on to serve in conventional units — like Air Force security forces — where they patrol bases in less strenuous environments. Others find new purpose with law enforcement, their explosive-detection skills still sharp. For those too damaged by service — physically or mentally — retirement means a quieter life, often with their handlers.
For this particular handler's own dog, retirement looms. After years of surgeries and kennel rest at the handler's home — where he's a family member — the transition promises to be seamless.
"My kids know him, my wife knows him, my other dogs know him," he said. "He'll have no trouble becoming a couch dog."
The deepest parallel lies in the relationships these dogs forge. For the Army Special Forces handler, his canine is more than a system — he's a partner and friend. Bringing the dog home during recovery periods has blurred the lines between duty and family.
"Since I started working with dogs, I've become accustomed to that lifestyle," he said. "My canine inspired me to continue service through some of my toughest years in uniform. He's as responsible for my success as anyone else on my team."