No Buddy Left Behind: Bringing U.S. Troops' Dogs and Cats Safely Home From the Combat Zone (16 page)

The U.S. military had implemented sanitation practices for collecting and disposing of the dead animals, but with the thousands of additional animals struck down by vehicles every day, there were just too many.

"One day I counted 286 dead dogs in just the sector we were patrolling," a Marine wrote to me in disbelief. "These animals are definitely the uncounted casualties of this war."

I was shocked when another Marine wrote, "We are forbidden to provide any kind of assistance to an injured animal we come across. The enemy discovered Americans can be real softies when it comes to animals, especially dogs, so they use that knowledge to their advantage. They have been known to purposely injure a dog, making it unable to move, and then they place a booby trap underneath its body. When a kind-hearted soldier sees the animal, feels sorry for it and goes to help, guess what happens next? Boom.

Wow. I never realized. So that's why the military has these rules.

Witnessing culturally based attitudes that showed little compassion or respect for animals was especially hard on Americans who came from a different background. Although soldiers rarely went out of their way to befriend a stray, many found themselves adopted by one that had come to their compound for food or protection.

Stray animals are not part of military veterinarians' mission in Iraq, but when these animals start living with the troops, the spread of disease becomes one of their concerns. Veterinarians responsible for the care of American working dogs in Iraq sympathize with soldiers whose befriended strays come under threat of destruction or abandonment when the soldiers redeploy. One veterinarian introduced a program for classifying a select number of stray dogs. These animals were registered as "force protection canines," which allowed them to be micro-chipped, vaccinated, spayed or neutered, and given parasite-prevention medication. The animals got access to betterquality dog food as opposed to MREs, and they received full veterinary care at no cost to the units.

According to one veterinary officer I talked with, "The job of a force protection canine is to hang out with the troops at some of the more remote military installations and bark when intruders, human or animal, come around. In addition, the dogs provide much-needed companionship. We now find that instead of hiding potential carriers of disease, the soldiers can take action to make sure the befriended dogs are healthy. This has taken up a lot of our time, but it has been well worth it, not only for the animals but for military personnel as well."

In February 2008 I learned about one stray dog that had gained the respect of both Marines and Army soldiers thanks to an e-mail sent to me by SGT Andrew Bankey, asking for help to get the dog to the States. Andrew was stationed at an outpost in an Iraqi province west of Baghdad. I asked Andrew to explain why it was so important to rescue this dog, and here is his response:

Socks is about three years old, which makes him an old-timer by Iraq standards. When I met him, he was already a permanent fixture at this outpost. No one really knows how Socks actually got here. When my unit took over the outpost, the Marines who were leaving recommended that we keep Socks around. His sixtypound presence was a good deterrent against intruders, and they said his courage was especially appreciated at night.

Our purpose here is to train Iraqi soldiers so they can take over the job of protecting their own country. Although there are 1,500 Iraqi soldiers at this outpost, there are only twenty Americans. We don't know how many of the men we train are enemy infiltrators, but we do know they're here. So, although most Iraqi soldiers are allies, at any given moment U.S. soldiers could be sabotaged by one of the men from this outpost.

Socks has always been fed and cared for by Americans, so he considers us his family, and all Iraqis potential enemies. He doesn't trust any of them. Whenever an Iraqi approaches our section of the outpost, Socks won't let him in until one of us has checked him out and said, "He's okay, Socks."

The bathrooms on our outpost are some distance from where we sleep. During the day, a trip to the john is no big deal, but at night, you have to be pretty desperate to make the trek.

In spite of our efforts to keep stray dogs away, there are still packs that prowl around at night. Our base is a long way from the city, and the closest villages are a few miles off, so we're out in the middle of nowhere, and the nights are eerie and quiet. Sometimes you go outside, and in the moonlight, you'll see them feral dogs-filthy, scarred, and mean, scrounging for garbage and hunting. You have to remember, these aren't friendly pooches; they're wild carnivores, ready to kill for food. Sometimes only a dozen or so are out there, but I've known nights when there must have been a hundred. They howl like wolves, and when you hear that low, steady growl, the hairs on your neck rise up.

Although most of these dogs steer clear of people, if a guy made the mistake of getting between the pack and the morsel of food they're fighting over, the dogs could get downright vicious.

Other than stray dogs, the second-biggest threat we face is coming up on one of those camel spiders. Looking more like a scorpion on steroids, some of them grow to nearly a foot long. If you run into one of them when you're half-asleep, it definitely wakes you up, and when those spiders feel threatened, they chase you. They're not afraid of anything.

The first time I had to make the middle-of-the-night hike to the john, I was not looking forward to it. When I stepped out the door, there was Socks lying in the dirt. He wasn't asleep, but wide awake, as if he had orders to be on duty.

"Hey, boy, what're you doing here?' I asked, wondering if he'd be friend or foe after dark. That's when I found out-Socks considers it his job to guard the men. He sits outside our barracks every night, waiting for soldiers to stumble out the door on their way to the bathroom.

Well, Socks took his job real serious. He stuck to me like a president's bodyguard, his eyes and nose at full alert, until we reached the john. His head went down and hackles stood up; he was one mean looking guard. Socks stayed outside manning his post until I was done and escorted me back to the barracks. After that he lay down waiting for the next person who couldn't hold it until morning.

The other awesome thing Socks does is that he leans against us. It's not just a dog planting himself against your leg; it's like he senses when you need contact with another living being. He'll just come over and lean. If you move away, he'll follow and reattach himself until you feel better.

In the time that I have been stationed here, Socks and I have grown real close. He sleeps in my hooch now and follows me everywhere. Seems like he decided I was his. When my unit redeploys at the end of March, we'll be handing full control of this base over to the Iraqi Army, and there won't be any more American soldiers replacing us. Socks will be surrounded by people he considers his enemies, and they don't trust him either.

Considering that Socks has been on duty 24/7 for over three years, I don't think he deserves to be left behind when we go. If there is anything you can do to help me get him back to the States, I'll take good care of Socks for as long as he lives. He's fought off several gangs of dogs that tried to attack me, and probably saved my life. I can't just walk away from him now.

-SGT Andrew Bankey

I agreed with Andrew-any dog that served the military in such an important way did not deserve to be left in Iraq. Andrew's unit was getting ready to redeploy in a matter of weeks, so we'd have to act fast. Socks had not been vaccinated, which created a dilemma, but he did have one advantage. Socks had been serving as an outer perimeter guard for quite some time, so it wouldn't be too difficult to have him classified as a force protection canine. This classification would enable him to get the veterinary care and health certificate required for travel. Andrew promised to get onto this task right away.

Socks was not the only dog that needed immediate transport to the United States. I received several urgent requests for help, including one for two puppies named "Oreo" and "Bags." Bags had been rescued by a soldier who saw a group of kids kicking a bag around the street like a soccer ball. When the bag yelped, he realized what was inside.

The SLG operations manager coordinated the collection of the dogs from each owner. The animals' exact locations had to be confirmed and a movement request submitted to U.S. Military Central Communications (CENT COM). Approval came back, along with directions for the route that was least likely to involve skirmishes. Other arrangements had to be made, such as fueling locations, food for the security team, and a safe place to grab a few hours' sleep.

The SLG security team drove throughout the night in two Ford Excursions and two Ford gun trucks, one with a 360-degree turret on top. Their mission was to collect the dogs and transport them to the airport. The hundreds of miles they covered were fraught with danger.

When the team arrived at Andrew's location in March, ready to load Socks, the dog took one look at the armored vehicle and decided he was not going into it. I received an e-mail from Andrew describing the scene.

I drove to the convoy meeting place today, and all went smoothly until we got there, and I tried to put Socks in the truck. He got really upset, even growled at me, his buddy, and fought like hell not to go in that vehicle. He was so scared, I nearly called it off. How could I tell him this was for his own good? I guess he thought I was a traitor, because he sure was mad, and I worried about the safety of the transport team.

One of the men, named "Jerry," said, "Don't worry. I'm fine with taking him." They got a dusty old blanket and wrapped Socks in it. It took five men to hoist that dog into the truck and slam the door before he fought his way out of the blanket. I sure hope he calms down. This is all very new and scary for Socks. He's a good dog, and I know he's in good hands. Thanks.

-Andrew

I replied to Andrew, "I'm glad you didn't cancel. Socks will calm down, and I'll take good care of him, I promise."

On March 13, 2008, I landed at Dulles International Airport with Oreo, Bags, and Socks, three of the five dogs we had attempted to save on mission 3. This was the first time that we received, upon arrival in Iraq, tragic news from SLG of a dog's death or loss before the animal could be picked up. In this case the two other dogs had been shot. Sometimes the animals were culled by contracted companies called "vector control;" other times they were killed by locals or even members of the U.S. military. Whenever this happened, it was devastating for the soldiers, their families, and for me. All I could do was contact the soldiers as soon as possible and express my deepest sympathy. Then I got back to work saving the dogs I could.

Considering the odds that were against us, each time my flight landed on American soil and the rescued dogs were taken to Bev and Barb's house or united with their families, I felt a million sighs of relief sweep over me and a renewed sense of determination to carry on the mission of Operation Baghdad Pups.

I kept in touch with Andrew by e-mail to let him know how Socks was doing. Again, just as with Eddie, it seemed almost as if Andrew and I were parents separated by distance and as if Socks was our child. I knew how important it was for the owners to receive my updates. A few days later I sent the following report:

Hi, Andrew,

Today Socks came with me while I ran some errands. He sat in the front seat, taking in all the new sights, and he behaved so well, I treated him to his first McDonald's cheeseburger minus the ketchup, lettuce, and pickles. Your dog is now a real American.

Socks learns everything so fast. The first few nights he slept for only short periods, but after he realized there are no threats here or a need for him to escort anyone to the bathroom, he started to sleep through the night. Socks is thoroughly enjoying his retirement from the Army, and I believe he dreams of becoming a couch potato!

-Terri

Andrew's unit was due to arrive at Ft. Stewart, Georgia, on March 29. It turned out that the best way to deliver Socks to Andrew was for me to drive south from Washington, D.C., on Interstate 95. Once again I would be spending more time with an Operation Baghdad Pups dog during his first weeks in the States. Doing this gave me further insight into the dog's perception of a totally different world as I witnessed his fascinating and often entertaining reactions. Whenever we drove under a bridge or an overpass, for example, Socks ducked. His fascination with windshield wipers made me laugh as his head mimicked a metronome and followed the wipers' blade movement until I turned them off. Every time a semi-trailer roared up alongside our rented PT Cruiser, Socks backed away from the window, and I had to rest my hand on his back, assuring him it was okay.