From the tough and dangerous assignment that was serving in Afghanistan, former soldier DAVID NICOLSON salutes one of his mates… Flojo, the explosive-detection dog and its role in saving lives and lifting morale so far from home.
Remembrance Day isn’t just about honouring our brothers and sisters in arms, it’s also about remembering those who served alongside us with unwavering loyalty, such as Flojo, our explosive-detection dog.
These dogs didn’t just search for weapons caches or the hidden threat of IEDs, they lifted morale, reminded us of home, and brought a sense of normality into a place that was hot, dusty, and hostile.
So how did I meet Flojo? I joined the Royal Australian Navy from Canberra in 2006 and served to 2010 as a boatswain’s mate on patrol boats, conducting boarding operations on people-smuggling and illegal fishing vessels during some of the busiest years in the region’s maritime security operations.
In 2010, I transferred to the Australian Army and joined as a cavalry soldier. In early 2011, I was attached to what would become Combat Team Alpha, 2nd Battalion, The Royal Australian Regiment (2RAR), for deployment to Afghanistan.
We patrolled the Mirabad Valley better known as “IED Alley”.
I was operating the Bushmaster Protected Mobility Vehicle and, as the lead vehicle, I carried the combat engineer search team and the explosive detection dog, Flojo, through some of the most heavily IED-affected routes.
It was always something to watch the toughest blokes on the team drop to one knee, soften their voice and give Flojo a scratch behind the ear. But the moment it was time to work, everything switched. She and her handler moved with absolute focus, a seamless team, professional, calm and razor sharp. The bond between them was something you couldn’t fake, and something none of us forgot.
The intensity was constant, but the Bushmaster proved its worth. Across NATO, it became known as the one vehicle that never lost a crew member to an IED strike.
Our searchers and Flojo were exceptional, locating and rendering safe countless IEDs on both foot and mounted patrols, preventing many casualties. But in “IED Alley” no-one was ever truly safe.
My crew leader and I hit four separate IEDs within two months, eventually being transferred to the brain trauma unit in Kandahar.
Across Combat Team Alpha, four more Bushmasters were hit, along with several Afghan Army and Afghan police vehicles, an American vehicle, and one Australian logistics vehicle.
At the end of long, exhausting days, especially for the infantry and sappers, it was often Flojo who lifted morale.
Sure, we kept each other going with banter, pranks and talking shit, but in a place where everything felt hostile, she brought something different: calm, normality, and a reminder of home. She wasn’t just a detection dog – she was part of the team.
Through the dust, heat, and tension, Flojo stood beside us, earning our trust and saving lives more than once. Every man in Combat Team Alpha will tell you the same, she was one of us, our girl, and she made even the harshest place feel a little more like home.
I believe that was her fourth or fifth deployment, but when it was finally over, Flojo made it home. She went back to Townsville with her handler and spent her final years exactly how she deserved: no more explosions, no more patrols; just peace, company, and having catch-ups with the same boys she’d gone to war with.
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