My Big Brave Dog, Trey

I know, that for about the first three years of a shepherd's life, that they are not the bravest of creatures. The ones that the police have are trained while they are young, to go into dangerous situations and to not react adversely when they hear loud bangs and such.
Well, my dog is a sheherd. He has not been trained. Much. He sits and lays down. He drops things things he is not supposed to have on command. He's getting good. But brave? I can't teach him brave. He will have to grow into that.
Last night, some of my "favorite" neighbors decided to celebrate the 4th of July again. For about an hour, we would hear the loud popping of firecrackers and the shrill whistles of Piccolo Pete. I hate it. Apparently, so does Trey. The other two dogs barked to ward off the big bad noise. But Trey? He disappeared. I didn't see where he disappeared to for a while. But then...I spotted him.
(Please don't judge the mess in these pictures. I have animals...they make messes. And kids, who don't believe in cleaning.