Soldier Dogs is coming out in paperback in early January, but being that I’m the author, I already have a small stash! How would you like to win a signed edition of this New York Times Best Seller hot off the presses? I’ll personally inscribe it for you or whoever you’d like to receive the book.

All you have to do to enter to win one of two signed copies is leave a comment below saying you’d like to receive one. I’ll do a random draw on New Year’s Eve, so enter by 5 pm California time Dec. 31. Be sure to use your real email address when commenting so I can contact you if you win.

(Don’t worry if you don’t see your comment appear right away. It may get stopped by my filter, but it will appear after I sign on and hit the OK button. I get too much spam here to do otherwise, alas. I need a patrol dog to take care of that!)

Good luck!

Update 12/31/12: Two winners have been drawn at random and notified. Sure glad I didn’t have to choose from all the hugely deserving entries. Thanks for your interest, and stay tuned for another giveaway in the not-too-distant future!

For more than 40 years, Tim Snyder, age 19 in this photo, has been trying to find a dog handler who shared a harrowing time with him in Vietnam 44 years ago. Can you help?

Can you help this Marine find a dog handler he was wounded with in 1968? (Tragically, the dog, Wolf, was KIA that day.) It would mean the world to him. He has been trying to no avail for more than four decades. The handler’s nickname was probably “Heck.” Please read on for more details. I’ll post it in the form of his correspondence to me and try to stay out of the way of his words and his story. My words will be in italics. The rest are his. (The photos of dogs in Vietnam are not photos of Wolf. They’re just reminders of these canine heroes. They come courtesy of the excellent 366th Security Police K-9 website.)

Dear Maria, I have been trying for over 40 years, with no success, to find the name of the dog handler with whom I was wounded on 22 May 1968 while serving with the 3d Bn, 3d Marines along DMZ in RVN.  His dog, Wolf, was KIA on that date.  The handler was wounded and I was wounded trying to help the handler.  The handler was an attachment (presumably from 3d MP Bn in Danang) so his name does not appear on the 3/3 unit records.  Do you have an sources who can help?  Many thanks.  Semper Fi.  .  .  

Tim Snyder, New Mexico–former S-2 scout.

The last patrol of Vietnam handler Gary Knutson and his dog, Eric 218E. This comes with a very touching story. You can read about it on my Soldier Dogs FB page at this link. https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=321675501245038&set=a.318130091599579.73301.225933834152539&type=3&theater (you may have to cut and paste if it doesn't give an automatic link)

I was, of course, intrigued by his request. I wanted to help him, so asked him for more details and any in-country photos so we could have the best chance of finding this man. He wrote back:

Thank you for your prompt response! The VDHA site lists Wolf (ID 150X) as KIA on 22 May 1968.  It lists his handler as John Guerrero.  I found John in Atlanta and he was very glad to speak with me.  He said that he rotated out of country in April ’68 (a month before my incident) and had to leave Wolf behind.  He didn’t know the name of the handler that was getting Wolf.

I had only been in-country for four months when I was wounded and medevaced out and this was my first experience working with this dog and handler.  I remember that the handler was a little older (maybe 26?) and that he wouldn’t swear so his nickname was ‘Heck’.  I’ve talked with some of my fellow scouts and they couldn’t remember his name either.

On the morning of 22 May, I was on the point of India Company (3/3) with Heck when Wolf alerted.  Our protocol called for sending the dog and handler back down the column after an alert because there was nothing more the dog could do for us–plus the dog would draw enemy fire in a firefight.  The patrol moved forward for about 15 minutes when our flank engaged the enemy and than we were all engaged.  Four of us in the point element were isolated for a while and fought from a bomb crater.  When we could no longer hold that position, we beat feet back to where the main column was and I heard Heck calling my name.  I ran over to him (about 50 meters), not paying attention to where he was.  On the way I passed Wolf, lying on the ground, dead.  Heck had a hole in his lower leg that was bleeding badly and I was kneeling by his leg pulling out a bandage to stop the bleeding when a piece of shrapnel from a chicom hand grenade entered my right chest, pierced my lung, and exited my back.  I rocked back on my heels and Heck could see that we were both in trouble–particularly since we were in an exposed area out in front of where our company was. Heck told me, “I’ll go this way, and you go that way, and we’ll meet at the LZ.”   That was the last time I saw him.

I was in some sort of shock and I couldn’t move for a while.  The guys behind me could see me out front and were telling me they’d get me, but the fire was too intense.  After about 15 minutes, I was able to cut my pack off and low-crawl along a narrow depression.  When I started to draw fire (I was close enough to see the eyes of the enemy soldier firing at me), I decided my only chance was to get up and run.  My guys caught me as I stumbled back into the perimeter and took me to the LZ.  I don’t remember who was there but I knew it was crowded.  There were two supply choppers bringing in more ammo, who were also picking up dead and wounded.  I got the last slot by the door and watched the enemy mortar rounds raining into the LZ as we pulled up.  Everybody on the ground was scattering.

When the choppers landed in Dong Ha, all the stretcher cases were hustled into the hospital.  I was left alone because I could still walk.  I made it into the hospital and passed out on the floor.  I remember somebody saying, “Hey, this guy’s got a red tag”, and the next thing I remember is a bleary-eyed surgeon telling corpsmen to get me into the operating room.  They stripped my clothing, turned me on my side, put my right arm over my head and the doc said, “Now hold him”.  He sliced my right side with a scalpel and shoved a drainage tube down into my lung.  I was very awake at that point and, regrettably, had more than a few choice words for those working on me.  They gave me a shot of morphine afterwards and I asked the corpsman why they didn’t give me something before.  I’ll never forget his words, “There’s no time for that here, man.  As long as we can hear you scream we know you’re alive.”

Anyway, that’s my story, and it would bring closure to me if I could talk to Heck and find out the rest of his story.  I attended a battalion reunion earlier this month and asked around with no luck.  I got my VFW magazine in the mail yesterday and saw Soldier Dogs on a list of new war-related books.  I haven’t yet ordered it, but will soon.   

Anything you can do to help find Heck would be much-appreciated.  In my book, he was a great guy just doing his job like the rest of us.  I’m sorry I don’t have any photos of myself at that time or of him.  We lived in the bush most of the time, and very few of us carried a camera.  

Vietnam dog handler Everett Tremblay and his dog, who is not anyone a bad guy would have wanted to cross...

When I wrote him again, I asked him if he was comfortable putting into words if he had any thoughts or feelings about that day, scout dogs, this dog, the situation, and just why he’d like to be in touch with the handler again. I was going to help him either way, of course, but I thought it would be helpful if putting this story out to dog handlers and dog lovers, we had some of his perspective about the dog, etc. This was not problem. Tim had a lot to say about this, and it’s very touching:

A little background on the scout dogs from one (old) Marine’s perspective.  .  .  They were critically important to the common grunt, and we knew it.  Everybody had respect for the dogs.  Not only did they save lives (ours!) by telling us when the enemy was near, but they worked in the same conditions we did.  They slogged through the same paddies, brush, and jungle.  They were hot and tired just like us, and the oppressive RVN heat and humidity had to have been miserable for the German Shepherds with their heavy coats.

Their handlers evoked the same respect.  We knew that the dogs were trained to obey only one man so everybody else had to keep their distance.  The dogs were not known for being friendly, and any bystander who got too close received a warning growl that was unmistakable in its message. 

Even in good times, there’s a certain cachet about a man and his dog.  In war, that is intensified.  We were all a bit envious of a Marine whose duties consisted of caring for and working with a dog whose only allegiance was to him.  AND, not any dog, mind you–but a German Shepherd.  It can’t get much better than that for a guy.

Handlers and their dogs were assigned to a central unit–ours were from the 3d Military Police Battalion in Danang–but “attached” to operational units.  This meant that they were moved around frequently and didn’t ordinarily have time to develop relationships with their attached units.  The S-2 scouts were the same.  We were formally assigned to Headquarters and Service Company but attached to line companies.  I worked mostly with India Company.  Heck was calling my name because I was most likely one of the few guys he knew, plus I hope he felt like he could count on me to help.

Tim Snyder at hospital

On my run to Heck, I actually leaped over Wolf.  Things were happening so fast that all I could think was “oh, no” and kept running.  Over the years, I’ve thought a lot about that.  I’ve looked at Wolf’s name time and again on the VDHA page and I have his ID memorized.  When I found his former handler, John Guerrero, I could tell that he loved Wolf.  He had heard that Heck had walked Wolf into a U-shaped ambush and he was glad to hear a different story from me. 

I wonder what the KIA rate was for the scout dogs as compared to regular grunts?  It may have been myth, but we strongly felt that the dogs drew enemy fire for two reasons, 1) the enemy knew that the dogs could detect them, and 2) it cost a lot more to train a dog than a Marine.  (I don’t know if #2 is true or not, but that’s the story that went around.)

For those reasons, Marines in a firefight don’t want to be anywhere around anything or anybody (even a dog) that will draw extra enemy fire.  Marksmanship is not at a premium in chaotic firefights, just fire superiority.  So anybody positioned near a target was bound to be “included” in the volume of fire.

Of course, the need to protect the dog and handler was another reason for sending them back into the column after alerting.  As cited before, they were extraordinarily important to us.

My drive to find Heck is four-fold.  First, I would like to find out the rest of the story.  Did he make it out?  How did he make it out?  Is he okay now?  Second, I would like him to know why I couldn’t finish helping him.  I’m sure all he knew was that I was bending over him and then just blanked out.  I was conscious but largely unresponsive.  He did the right thing by leaving.  He couldn’t help me and I couldn’t help him.  The two of us together made a more conspicuous target.  Third, I would like to thank him.  He was a friend to me, and he called to me.  That meant a lot to me.  Fourth, I would like to share my sympathies for the loss of Wolf.  Their bond had to have been strong, and I can only imagine how hard it must have been to lose him.

In summary, I guess I am seeking a measure of closure to events that have lived with me every day since then.

Just so you know, after I was finally discharged from a stateside hospital, I volunteered to go back to Vietnam and made it a full 13 months without major mishap.  I got out of the Marines, got married, and then re-enlisted for another five years, the last two of which I served as a Warrant Officer for the 12th Marines in Okinawa.  My wife and I had three children while I was still serving, and another four afterwards.  I went back to school and went into school teaching, and then school administration.  I am retired now, and my wife and I enjoy our 26 grandchildren.  We just returned from a two-year church mission to Cambodia so I now have time to resume my search for Heck.

Maria, I really appreciate your help AND listening ear.  I have attached three photos–an official one taken four months after I was wounded, one taken about a year later on the USS Iwo Jima, and a candid shot of an aging warrior.  I am searching for a photo taken of me at Tripler Army Hospital in Honolulu and will send it if I can find it.

Again, many thanks for helping out on this.  You are wonderful!

Tim Snyder 44 years after the top photo in this post was taken. Fingers are crossed that he and "Heck" can reconnect.

Tim, you’re a pretty wonderful person yourself, being able to write such a heartfelt account of that terrible day so long ago, and keeping this hero in your thoughts for this long. I really hope our community can help you get closure on this. Thanks for letting us lend a hand.

OK folks, please help spread the word about this Marine’s wish. I know there’s a very strong Vietnam handlers’ community out there, and it would sure be nice if someone could help him find this handler.

The wallet photo of Rip that handler-turned-adoptive-owner W.D. Moore showed to people who asked to see his family.

In World War II, when the US war dog program was in its infancy, it depended almost entirely on people donating their dogs to the fight. I can’t imagine what it was like to say good-bye to the family dog – even in a time when dogs had a slightly different status in most homes – but people did it by the thousands.

One such dog was Rip, who was purported to be half Doberman, with what looks to be a strong streak of pit bull in him. Shortly after the publication of my book Soldier Dogs, I heard from Allen Moore, who was a little boy when his life intertwined with Rip’s. He was kind enough to send me some photos and documents about Rip’s life.

I want to share Rip’s story here, because it’s emblematic of the good dogs and loving handlers who helped usher in one of the most successful military dog programs in the world. It also shows the heart that we’ve always had for military dogs, and the fact that adoption of these dogs was going strong way back then – a policy that experienced a brutal turn for handlers and dogs during the Vietnam era.

***

Allen Moore fondly remembers the wallet of his dad, W.M. Moore, who’d been a dog handler in World War II. “Dad carried a picture of Rip with the garrisons cap in his wallet for many years until it almost fell apart. Not a picture of his wife and kids just HIS DOG. I for one, never felt slighted.”

Rip was just one of the handful of dogs under his father’s care during the war, but he’s the one who came home with him and spent the rest of his life with him. The details of Rip’s life before becoming a soldier dog in June 1943 are few, but he had a family and a house with a white picket fence. The photo below shows a young Rip with his pre-war owner. It must have been hard to give up this young dog as a military recruit.

Rip with his first owner before the dog became a soldier dog

After training as a handler with the K-9 Corps, W.D. Moore eventually was assigned to Rip V541. Rip had already been to Alaska for part of his soldier dog duties. The two shipped off for the Pacific Islands together. Here’s one life-saving adventure they had together, as told by his son:

“Dad and Rip landed on Leyte Island in early 1945, and were there about a year or less. One night they and another handler and his dog were on point in a wide V shaped zone. Rip began to growl so low that it could only be felt by Dad’s hand on Rip’s chest. After a while, the growl became more intense and more frequent. Dad started paying more attention and began to hear some sounds coming from out in middle of the V where no one was supposed to be. At that time Dad opened fire with his carbine in the direction of the sounds and the troops along the V opened fire with machine guns. The next morning when they investigated, they found some Japanese equipment and blood but no bodies. Rip had alerted to either an attack or infiltrators. He probably saved the platoon.” 

His dad understandably thought of Rip as a hero because of the lives and limbs he saved as a scout dog. The military thought the dog was pretty heroic, too. When Rip was released from his duties in 1946, after nearly three years of serving, the military presented him with a certificate of honorable discharge (below).

How great that dogs back then received honorable discharges. This is Rip's paper showing his "faithful service."

I’d love to see certificates like this given to retired military working dogs today. But that would entail the military officially seeing dogs as canine members of the armed forces again, and not as equipment, their current designation. (Their status could change if Congress passes the Canine Members of the Armed Forces Act and the president signs it into law. The senate passed it earlier this year.) Obviously the dogs don’t care about a piece of paper with words on it, but it would mean a great deal to most people adopting these dogs, and serve as a constant reminder of their years of hard work on behalf of the nation. (It could occasionally help score these dogs an extra biscuit or two to have one of these hanging on the wall.)

Back in World War II, most dogs were rehomed, either to their original homes, or anyone who wanted to adopt a military dog. As it happened, W.D. Moore was not going to let Rip go to anyone else, and he was able to adopt him and bring him home to live with him and his young family in Colorado. Check out the letter below, which releases Rip to him. (For some reason the letter says the dog is going back home to him, but he’s not the one who donated Rip.)

Rip's discharge letter from the K-9 Corps. Note how Moore was instructed against anybody "sicking" him on anyone.

He went home with W.D. Moore, and settled nicely into family life. At first, neighbors were a little concerned about having a war dog in the neighborhood, but they quickly realized Rip was just a regular dog at heart. “He never bit anyone, he just didn’t like cats,” recalls Allen Moore. But when needed, his inner soldier came through.

Moore remembers the time when a drunk man was stumbling home from a bar a block away after being retrieved by his two children. “His hands and arms were on the kids’ shoulders. Rip must have sensed the kids were in danger, so he went up to the man and put his mouth on the man’s hand an pulled it away. After some cursing and other things, the man tried to put his hand back on the kids’ shoulders and Rip stopped him again. After that the man stood there and called for help, and Dad came out and called Rip in.”

Winters in Colorado were surely a good deal different than his time in the South Pacific. I love the photo below. It looks like Rip is waxing nostalgic about those warm islands.

Nov. 3, 1946, and life as a family dog in Colorado was a lot different than a year earlier when Rip and Moore were together in the Pacific Islands

And here he is in warmer months, “standing watch” at yet another picket fence, this one belonging to his beloved handler’s family.

Rip stands tall at the picket fence of his handler.

The years went by, and Rip became as integrated into the family as any human family member. The dog was deeply devoted to his former handler. “He always knew when it was time for Dad to come home,” say Moore. “Rip always waited for him to drive up and open the gate. He’d jump into the car or truck and ride with him for the 50 foot drive into the yard.” What a welcome!

But one day, Rip went missing. “Dad was beside himself, not knowing where and how it could have happened. We couldn’t believe he was kidnapped, but we realized that’s what must have happened,” says Moore. Two weeks after he disappeared, Rip showed up at a relative’s house a few miles away. He was hungry, thirsty, tired, and his foot pads were sore and worn. The relative tried to secure Rip at the house until Moore’s dad could get him after work. But the dog must have realized he was close to home. He escaped, and continued on his journey home. “When Dad got home from work, Rip was waiting for dad as usual.”

Rip's "brother," Jim and Allen (right), around 1948. Allen is the man who would hear of my book 64 years later and send me these wonderful photographs.

Here’s a poignant photo of the heroes getting a little older together in the comfort of their living room.

Heroes on the battlefield, best friends in the living room.

Time moves forward too fast sometimes, especially where our love of dogs is concerned. Rip was the Moore’s family dog for six years after his service to country. In 1954, he was an old fellow of about 13 or 14, and eventually, as with so many old dogs, the pain of the maladies of old age was just too much. W.D. Moore took out the camera one sad July day and took what he knew would be the final photos of his war pal. It was Rip’s last day, and he wanted to remember him forever. “You can see in the pics the distress on our faces and our swollen eyes,” says Moore.

Here’s a photo of Rip on his last day, with young Allen Moore, who would write me six decades later and send me images of these photos and documents of his father’s (and his) beloved dog.

Allen with Rip on Rip's last day, in July 1954. What a sweet expression this boy had, and what a lasting impression Rip made on him.

And a photo that must have been so hard to pose for: W.D. Moore posing with his best friend, his hero, his comrade, his beloved Rip, on what he knew would be Rip’s final day.

Rip's last day with his handler, best friend, and greatest admirer

RIP, Rip, and a belated thank-you to W.D. Moore, for giving his dog such a good life.

(A tremendous thank-you to Allen Moore, for providing me with these wonderful photos and documents, and for his patience while I found a bit of time to finally put this story together. All images courtesy of Allen Moore.)

Your challenge: Find the dog! (Illustration from No Easy Day)

For anyone wondering if the brand-new book No Easy Day reveals much about the military dog who accompanied the SEALs on the Bin Laden raid, the answer is this: Although Cairo gets very little ink in the book, we do learn more about what he did. My publisher, Dutton (Penguin), launched this highly controversial book today, and I was able to get a copy (one of 550,000 copies in the first print run!) and pore through it for the crux of the exciting tale, and any info on the dog.

Former dog handler Logan Black is together again with his bomb dog, Diego (Photo by Jerry Lara, San Antonio Express-News)

Earlier this week my Facebook page celebrated the reunion of Iraq war veteran and former dog handler Logan Black and his old bomb-sniffing dog, Diego. Thanks to the DOD’s military working dog adoption program, former Army Sgt. Logan Black was able to adopt 8-year-old yellow Lab after the dog was dispo’d from the MWD program. It was a win-win for everyone. The look on Diego’s face says it all.

Reunited, and it feels so good! (Photo by Jerry Lara, San Antonio Express-News)

Black had wanted to get his old dog back badly enough that when he heard Diego was retiring, he tried to get the adoption expedited by reaching out to media and by writing to a high-ranking military official who handles this kind of request. It’s similar to what former Marine handler Megan Leavey did to speed her former canine partner through the adoption process once he was dispo’d.

These dogs were already dispo’d, so I’m told the requests shaved only two or three weeks off the adoption process. (Adoption of dispo’d dogs has gone relatively warp speed in the last year thanks to huge improvements in the MWD adoption process – including a much-needed change to computerization of all records.) But a few of the dogs currently being sought for adoption by handlers are still very much active duty. They are viable working dogs who have more deployment capabilities ahead. There’s some fear that to make good public relations – or at least to avoid bad PR -  the military will start retiring dogs who have a strong working future, putting those who need them at risk.

A former handler who is very much still in the thick of all this was communicating with me about his concerns yesterday. I asked him if he could write a short editorial. He did so under condition of anonymity, because in order to really state his opinion on this or just about anything officially, he’d have to go through loads of red tape.  It’s a side we rarely hear from, and as much of a softy as I can be about keeping dogs and handlers together, he makes a compelling case for why working dogs should keep protecting the troops. I’m interested in your thoughts after reading it.

Guest Editorial by Former MWD Handler

Here’s a story that I like to think about when someone wants to take a perfectly healthy working dog and make them a pet, instead of allowing them to be a working dog..a Marine went out on multiple missions in Afghanistan and on every mission there was some sort of explosives detector dog who would accompany them and conduct explosives clearing sweeps along the way when necessary. The one mission this Marine went on and there was no MWD present, his convoy was hit and he lost both of his legs. Could this still have happened? Possibly, but I would think that having an asset who can save someone’s son or daughter from a life changing injury or death outweighs bringing the dog home to be your pet.

I’ve been down that road, I left my dog behind and did not think I would ever see her again because it was my time to move on and she was young and healthy. We spent almost two solid years working together, day in and day out, we went to Iraq together, on Secret Service missions together and worked the road on our home base together. I would go in on my days off to play with her and get her out of the kennel…it might almost be fair to say if given the option of keeping my girlfriend or my dog, my dog probably would have won out every time.

Having to leave my dog behind was one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life. However, she was a helluva dog, we used her for demonstrations to show how good a dog could work. I put tons of work into building her up, but when it was time to leave her behind I sat with her in her kennel crying because I knew she wouldn’t understand where her dad went, but with both dogs and humans alike time heals all wounds and I knew she needed to work because that’s what she loved to do…saving someone’s life was more important than having her as a pet to me.

I know there is another side that people look at and say give the dog away and buy a new one, but when I watch the news and see how bad the economy is and how the government is trying to cut spending, why should they buy a new dog when they have one that works great. Thousands of dollars are spent to buy and train these dogs, why not put that money somewhere else so that these men and women can feel a little safer while serving their country. Its understandable to want your dog after going through all the things that come with deployments and dangers in the world, but at the end of the day these dogs should be out saving a life and not laying on a couch…at least not until they don’t want to work anymore.

Lucca is all kisses when greeting her original handler, Gunnery Sgt. Chris Willingham, after the long flight from San Diego to Helsinki

There’s nothing like a reunion, especially with a military dog who saved your life – and the lives of many others – on numerous occasions during dangerous deployments. After too many months apart, you wonder if the dog will even recognize you, much less be happy to see you.

Last week, Marine Gunnery Sgt. Chris Willingham, who is serving in Helsinki, Finland, had the reunion of a lifetime when his old military working dog, Lucca K458, stepped off a plane with her most recent handler, Marine Cpl. Juan Rodriguez. The 8-year-old Belgian Malinois was a little older, and missing one leg because of her last heroic act in war, but he’d have recognized her anywhere. Did Lucca recognize him? Read on in these dispatches Gunny Willingham sent us from Finland. (I got to know Gunny Willingham during my research into the tragic story of Cpl. Max Donahue’s for my book Soldier Dogs. He was his platoon sergeant, and thought the world of him.)

Dispatches to Soldier Dogs by Gunny Willingham

June 23

In 2006, I was paired with Specialized Search Dog Lucca.  We served two tours in Iraq and we were extremely successful. Lucca was credited with numerous finds and the arrest of 5 insurgents. Kris Knight can tell you what a special dog Lucca is.

Upon returning from Afghanistan in December 2010, I received orders to Marine Security Guard School.  I’m currently serving at the US Embassy in Helsinki, Finland. Before I left, I was able to select the handler to take over as Lucca’s handler.  I selected Cpl. Rodriguez.  We have the same personalities and I knew he would make a great team with Lucca. In November 2011, I headed to Helsinki, Finland and Cpl. Rodriguez, Lucca and the rest of my old platoon headed back to Afghanistan. 

Lucca sits in front of a Marine Corps flag at Camp Pendleton a couple of days before her big trip.

Lucca and Rodriguez were very successful during there deployment. The were in direct support of a Special Operations unit. On 23 March, while walking point on a patrol, Lucca responded to an IED. As they began to sweep for secondaries, a second device exploded. Lucca was injured but immediately started running back to Rodriguez. Rodriguez, ran and met her half way, quickly assessed the injuries and applied a tourniquet, which saved her life, then called in a MEDEVAC. 

No member of the patrol was hurt. Lucca, again, was responsible for saving lives.  She suffered burns to her neck and torso and her front left leg had to later be amputated.

She is currently at Camp Pendleton, where she recovered from the injury. Despite the amputation, Lucca can run around and is serving as the Kennel’s mascot.  Most importantly, she has the same personality.  She is amazing and her recovery was better than any one could have expected.

A couple weeks ago, she was cleared for retirement and I submitted my adoption package. Today, Rodriguez’s passport came in the mail.  I am going to fly her and Rodriguez to Finland. Rodriguez will stay for 10 -12 days before returning to California. I thought it would be a great transition for Lucca and I wanted to personally thank Rodriguez for saving her life.  

I’m trying to arrange a flight through American Airlines for the first week of July; Depart 3-5 July and return 16 July.  The Embassy staff have been very supportive of my efforts to get Lucca over here. I’m trying to get her flown over here in the cabin since she is retired Explosive detection dog. I know it’s a long shot but i was wondering if you have an connections with American Airlines.

MG note: I searched around and made a couple of possible connections in the next few days, but he beat me to it.

June 30

I’m getting all the details on Monday but I think American Airlines is going to pay for the airfare for Lucca and Rodriguez.  Rodriguez was also on my first deployment to Afghanistan, with Max Donahue. He had a Patrol Explosive Detection dog, RRolfe, the first deployment.

She should be here in the next week to ten days.  I can’t wait.

Lucca and Cpl. Rodriguez bonded deeply, but he wants her to be with Cpl. Willingham in her retirement

July 6

This story took on a life of its own. Cpl. Rodriguez and Lucca arrived at Helsinki yesterday, Friday, at 0830. He was greeted by two camera crews in San Diego. When they arrived in Chicago for there layover, they held a brief ceremony with color guard and she received cheers from the people in the airport.

When she arrived in Helsinki, the Ambassador, some other key Embassy employees and I met Lucca at a private terminal. Basically, the plane landed and pulled up to gate 38 and only let Lucca and Rodriguez off and then off loaded everyone else at a different gate. Also, there were about 12 camera crews and journalist covering the story. One of the press members joked that Lucca received more press coverage than the recent visit of Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton.  

Jill and the kids made four “welcome home” signs that we posted up in the terminal.  American Airlines also had a couple swag bags for Lucca and Rodriuez along with a display of with pics of Lucca.  

One of Gunny Willingham's adorable children displays a sign the family made to welcome Lucca home

When they first entered the terminal, I knelt down and it was almost like you could see it process for her in slow motion when she approached me. It took a couple seconds to realize she was home. Lucca immediately started licking my face for about a solid minute. It brought back a lot of old memories seeing Lucca and Rodriguez.  

About 2 weeks after I reported to Finland, my old platoon deployed. I kept in touch with a lot of the Marines and I would call Leatherneck every few weeks to check in with the Kennelmaster, SSgt Nuckles. On March 23rd, when Lucca was injured, I talked to Rodriguez about six hours after the incident. My first concern was to ensure Rodriguez was okay. We stayed in contact over the next week until Lucca and Rod returned to Camp Pendleton. She started doing really well during her rehab so, the next step was to discuss adoption. Rodriguez and I had a conversation about the adoption, and it was clear he wanted her to be reunited with me and my family.  I worked with GySgt Green to submit the adoption paperwork.  

A couple reporters followed us back to our house to capture the first few moments of Lucca being home. Lucca and Rodriguez both slept for about 4-5 hours.  Around 1730, we went to the Marine house and hosted a BBQ.  About 30 Embassy employees and their families came out to meet Lucca and Rodriguez. Also, we had Janis, who is the American Airlines representative, who made this whole trip possible, and two of the pilots who flew Lucca and Rod over. It was a great event and everyone was excited to meet Lucca and Rod.  

Lucca may have only three legs, but her joie d' vivre keeps her going strong

Rodriguez will stay with me and my family for the next 12 days. Lucca will be sleeping in his room because I know Lucca means a lot to Rod as well, and I want them to spend time together over the next couple weeks. Plus, I think it will serve as a good transition for Lucca to have both of us around for a couple weeks.

I will be the first to admit that dogs are “proven but not perfect.” In fact, I would often use that phrase in my capabilities and limitations brief to supporting units while deployed. However, every patrol that Lucca led during her three combat deployments, resulted in zero injuries.  Even the patrol when Lucca was hurt, no other member of the patrol was injured. 

Lucca was responsible for saving hundreds of lives and she was also directly responsible for the arrest of five insurgents. Again, it was hard to describe the feeling of being reunited with a couple of heroes in Lucca and Cpl. Rodriguez. 

Marine Capt. Brandon Bowe (left) is known for being there for handlers and everyone he works with.

Doesn’t the name “Captain Brandon Bowe” sound like some kind of American superhero? In a way, he really is. A recent feat this Marine accomplished will have far-reaching effects that could end up saving the lives of dozens of dogs, handlers, and anyone involved in today’s military missions.

If you read my book Soldier Dogs, you’ll know of the vastly important advanced dog-team training offered at Yuma Proving Ground, in an arid southwest corner of Arizona. More than 200 dog teams go through the Inter-Service Advanced Skills K-9 (IASK) course every year before they deploy.

And across the board, they credit the course with helping them, their canines, and the people who follow them come back home alive. Ask any handler who’s been through it: “The best training out there.” “It’ll save your life, and maybe a lot of other lives.” “You shouldn’t deploy with a dog if you haven’t gone to Yuma.”

But this lifesaving 19-day course was in grave danger of being shut down because of the cutbacks that are clobbering every part of the military. It costs less than $1 million to run IASK annually. To compare it monetarily, that’s a total of two death benefits for families of handlers or others who might not make it back home alive. In other words, it’s nothing. And of course, you can’t really put a price on a life anyway.

Gunny Knight trains Patrick, one of his favorite dogs

I devote a section of Soldier Dogs to the Yuma course, and to Gunnery Sergeant Kristopher Knight, the extremely colorful Marine who runs it. Capt. Bowe, who oversees the school, reveres him, says he’s the best, smartest trainer there is. Everyone Gunny Knight has helped train seems to agree. 

“You lose the course, you lose Knight, you lose lives,” one handler told me at the Military Working Dog Seminars at Lackland Air Force Base last month.

It was looking quite grim for the course when my book came out earlier this spring. But then came a small ray of hope. Capt. Bowe was asked to present the case for IASK. He would have to go to the Pentagon in June and speak to 30 decisionmakers who would vote in front of him and decide on the spot the fate of the course.

Gunny Knight and Capt. Bowe at last month's military working dog seminars at Lackland Air Force Base

Capt. Bowe may not be out there directly saving lives every day. He’s not a dog handler. These days he’s mostly stateside. But his actions, his presentation, his argument would be the difference between life and death for the course itself and everyone who would suffer if it were to lose funding

Hmm, not much pressure there.

Last week was show time. I followed him on Facebook, and via messages he sent from Washington, D.C.

I’m about to leave the hotel to give my brief on the dog school my unit runs at Yuma, Arizona. This school teaches handlers and dogs to find IEDs before they explode. But is about to be closed because of budget cuts. If I am successful, we will receive funding for 2 more years……..I hope I can pull this off!!!!!!

Me too, Brandon, and a lot of other people do, too. Later that day:

So there I was, giving the biggest brief of my life to a room of 30 people and high powered decision makers and the highest ranking officer gets up and walks out of the room 30 seconds into my brief. Talk about throwing me off my game……I had no idea what to do…..so I say to the room, “Umm, not sure what to do here…….does this mean I failed.” The entire room breaks out in laughter……the senior officer comes back in 2 minutes later, I re-gain traction and push on……at the end of the brief he awarded us our funding request and says, “I’m gonna leave again, don’t get scared, you got my vote.”……….My question is, how the hell did he know what I said when he left the first time? I guess when you are that high of a rank, you are not only the smartest person in the room……but the smartest person out of the room as well!!!!!!

OK, just a little nerve-wracking! But hugely great news! The course would be funded. It’s going to stay alive at least through fiscal year 2014, and very likely, beyond. Later that day he sent out a message with the details.

The US Marine Corps is going to partner with the Joint Improvised Explosive Device Defeat Organization (JIEDDO) for 2 years in order to ensure adequate funding for the IASK Course at Yuma Proving Grounds, Arizona. JIEDDO has a mandate from Congress to support any valid/proven initiative that helps save the lives of service members from the effects of IEDs. The partnership between the USMC and JIEDDO is very strong and was enhanced when I attended the Joint Military Working Dog Conference in San Antonio, TX this year. Basically, JIEDDO knows of the capabilities of well- trained Military Working Dogs and also heard that the premier training course the USMC has at Yuma was in jeopardy of being closed due to lack of funding. In the words of JIEDDO, “We’re from JIEDDO and we’re here to help.”

It gets better. With the support of JIEDDO, this allows for the USMC Training Command in Quantico, VA flexibility to plan a budget two years away. Once they get the word from Headquarters Marine Corps at the Pentagon that the IASK Course needs to be an enduring requirement, they are going to ensure that the IASK Course makes the official FY15 budget. At present, it is the #1 initiative for FY15.

Dogs and handlers will continue going through the lifesaving IASK course, thanks to Capt. Bowe and some forward-thinking decision makers. (Photo by Gunny Knight)

I am so proud of Capt. Bowe for what he accomplished, and of Gunny Knight for making the course what it is. I’m also thrilled that the 30 people at that meeting saw the wisdom in keeping this course alive. Mostly, I am relieved. Relieved that families will be seeing their loved ones come home alive because of this course. Too many lives have been lost in this war already. To take away one proven life-saving entity that barely cost anything would have been unfathomable, short-sighted, and just really stupid.

I’d heard that some high-up Pentagon people and other military decisionmakers had read Soldier Dogs, and I’d hoped that maybe some of them were in the room with Capt. Bowe that day. Just a couple of days ago, Capt. Bowe wrote me this:

I know that a few people at JIEDDO have read your book because I saw it on their desks/bookshelves when I was there! I smiled to myself and wondered if they understood that the funds I was lobbying for were for the course in that book or they already knew because they read the book….haha!

Yes haha is right! If Soldier Dogs had even a small part in helping this go through, I am thrilled. Actually, I’m thrilled no matter what. It’s exactly the kind of awareness I was hoping would get out there, no matter how it got out there.

I love the final post Capt. Bowe wrote on his Facebook page once he got home.

Round trip air fare to DC: $449
DC hotel for 4 days: $965
Being awarded millions of dollars to keep training dogs to save lives of our fellow service members: millions of dollars and an amazing sense of honor and duty.
Coming home to a beautiful german shepherd that showers you with love and kisses: priceless!

(You can read much more about the IASK course in my book Soldier Dogs: The Untold Story of America’s Canine Heroes)

Bernie is a very sweet dog when she's not doing things like this. Really! (Photo via Marine Cpl. Aaron Diamant)

When you see a photo like this, you cringe first, ask questions later.

So that’s what I did. When Marine combat correspondent and photojournalist Cpl. Aaron Diamont sent me this photo, I winced for the poor Marine who’s being chomped on by military working dog Bernie, at the Marine Corps Air Station Yuma, Ariz. Then I asked questions. Those questions resulted in this great explanation by Diamont, who was on the scene (although not the photographer, and not the decoy) when this happened.

Bernie is the greatest MWD I’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering. She’ll always be special to me, even though I love all of the dogs we’ve got here. She’s just got the greatest personality, even though the first time we met, she bit a young Marine in the inner thigh…

The photo is from a Combat Camera guy who was out there who managed to capture the look on the Marine’s face as four canine teeth punctured the tender flesh of his thigh. As soon as Bret (Bret Reynolds, his handler) realized what happened, he called her off of the guy and he went to help the guy out. Bernie ran right over to me and sat down next to me, looking up at me. I know dogs pretty well, and the look on her face said, “Hi. Pet me, and I’ll love you forever,” but I had just watched her bite a guy’s leg, and it was the first time I’d ever seen her or Bret.

I let Bret know she was with me, and he reassured me she was friendly, so I somewhat nervously reached down to pet her. Within a few minutes, I took a knee and she laid down and rolled over so I could give her a belly rub. She gave me a few kisses too. From then on, she was always the dog I wanted to see when I was at the  kennels.

The funny part about the incident, a doc was telling Bret that he needed Bernie’s shot records, and Bret had the best reply ever; “This is a military working dog, trust me, she’s up to date on all of her shots. If anything, I need to see your Marine’s shot records to make sure he didn’t give anything to my dog.” Bret has this gift of exceptional bearing, and said the whole thing in a very convincing manner, then let out a few laughs when the doc went away. But after a few quick chuckles, it was back to business, training a Combat Logistics Regiment’s security company about the capabilities of MWDs.

The Marine wasn’t badly hurt, fortunately. Bernie has since retired. She was a super popular dog at her kennels, and I’ll be doing a post on her and her retirement years soon. Watching TV from the couch and getting belly rubs are among her favorite retirement hobbies. As far as I know, she has sworn off crotch/thigh-biting.

You could almost picture the couple’s future home life together as you check out some of the items.

There’s the pizza wheel for the casual nights entertaining friends and family. Ditto for the Mr. Bar-B-Q 8-piece barbecue tool set, complete with carrying case.

And there are the turkey-lifter forks and stainless steel baster for the Thanksgiving feast they’d host when everyone else finally got done hosting the newlyweds. It could be years.

Let’s not forget the muffin tin and ice-cream scoop for sweet times, maybe even with their future children.

Or the crock-pot for cozy meals on busy family days.

If you’d looked at the list two days ago, it would have been a reflection of the hopes and dreams of this couple for their wedding day,  July 14 – not long after Coffey’s return with his dog from a 7-month deployment in Afghanistan’s Helmand province.

But their wedding registry has taken on a sickening, tragic pallor.

With one bullet from a Taliban sniper, it’s all over. Corporal Keaton G. Coffey, age 22, is dead.

There will be no pizza nights, no Thanksgiving dinners, no hearty family stews. There won’t be any children to bask in the aroma of fresh-baked cupcakes, or to enjoy a scoop of ice-cream on a warm summer day as dad cleans up the Mr. Bar-B-Q tools from dinner.

Cpl. Coffey and his faithful military working dog (Photo courtesy of Amanda Sheppard)

Coffey’s dog, who doted on him, will be coming home without him. The German shepherd is probably already confused about why he hasn’t seen his best friend for two days, when they had been spending every moment together during their grueling deployment.

And I can’t begin to imagine the raw, unreal pain of his fiancé, family, and friends.

The United States still has some 600 military working dog teams deployed in war zones. I don’t know how many tens of thousands of soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines are deployed at any given time, but I do know there’s a growing impatience – even among those who have usually supported all Defense Department decisions – about bringing everyone home.

More and more, I’m hearing the question, “Why?” As in why are we still there? Why are we making these inconceivable sacrifices?

It’s a question all too familiar to anyone around during Vietnam. And as with that era, casualties and deaths of our troops are barely making the news these days, except in hometown stations.

Upon reading the news of Cpl. Coffey on my Soldier Dogs Facebook page yesterday, the mother of an Air Force dog handler who will soon be deploying with his dog wrote this:

“The news has forgotten to mention our children, society has forgotten to remember our children, but the 45 % of families still live with this war on a daily basis. May God bless each and every one of them.”

The majority of us have no relatives in the military. Unlike past wars that pulled combatants from every walk of life, today’s wars are being fought by a small slice of Americans. It’s too easy to forget them if they’re not real to us.

If you’re among the Americans who have no family members in the war, and you need a Memorial Day reminder of the humanity and reality of these men and women, take a look at the wedding wish list of hairdresser Brittany Dygert and Marine Corporal Keaton Coffey. There, somewhere among the salad spinners and serving plates and cookbook stands, lie the ghosts of dreams of our oft-forgotten heroes and those who love them.

Glory Hounds from ten100 on Vimeo.

Animal Planet is putting together a new series that follows three military dog teams. It’s called Glory Hounds, and from the trailer, it looks like it really captures the essence of the military working dog world. I’m greatly looking forward to seeing it. /9I’ve heard it will air either in the fall or spring. I hope the fall! Will keep you posted.)