1. Jim Hart 8/70-8/71 USAF Smokey (Flop) A912 k9hohriver@centurytel.net I wrote this letter to my dog "Flop" and then it was placed with a couple of pictures of him at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial on Memorial Day this year. I'm one of the lucky ones that has home movies taken at PhuCat of Flop and me. Memorial Day 2000        Flop, I'm writing to you because it seems like the right thing to do. I didn't want to leave you behind in Vietnam,but I really had no other choice. I told you where I was going and I know you understood. I know you wanted to go home with me, please forgive me. I thought you'd be coming home someday. Had I had any idea the military had no intention of bringing you and the others back home, I never would have left you. The way you looked into my eyes; I really believe you were reading my mind. Coming home was great, but knowing you were still over there bothered me a lot. All these years, I never knew what had happened to you and there was never anyone to talk to who would truly understand what I was going through.         Well, after 30 years I finally know the rest of the story. It took your new handler two weeks to get in on you, but you finally gave in and let him take you out. This was the fifth handler for you in Vietnam and you accepted him. After four months he was sent home and you were left alone again. PhuCat closed on Christmas Eve and you were sent to Cam Ranh Bay.         At Cam Ranh Bay you wanted nothing to do with anyone. The Air Force decided that the way to solve the problem was to put you down and they did. I don't understand how anyone could do that to you. You spent 7 years in Vietnam protecting your handlers, base, and all the people on the base. This was the reward you got for being faithful all those years. I could have taken you home, I was sent to Travis AB and they didn't have a dog for me there. Flop, I want you to know that you were more than just a dog to me. You were a great Soldier and my best friend.         Please watch over the Wall and maybe someday the US Government will realize that all the dogs that served in Vietnam should be honored with a National Memorial. We all love you Smokey A912 ( Flop ) Terry Holley 1965-1966, Dick Rines 1967-1968, Phil McGeorge 1969-1970, Craig Jolly 1971. I will see you again. Jim Hart PhuCat AB 1970-1971 Return To Top 2. James Ritz Jr (Ritzo) 6/67-6/68 USMC Candy 1A68 JJR141@aol.com Ever have the feeling you are being followed? You know the sense that there are eyes watching your every move. Well let me tell you of an incident that happened with my Scout Dog Candy and I while on Patrol in the Dong Ha Region of South Viet Nam. Candy and I were running patrols at night and into the morning hours. Day after day it was the same thing. One night we were walking along with Candy and I at the point, along with my body guard. Candy every now and then would turn her nose up towards this cliff that seemed like it went on for miles. It was only about twenty or thirty feet high but we were below it. Not being on the high ground was bothering all of us, but Candy especially kept looking upward and sniffing. I didn't say anything to the rest of the grunts but spoke to my body guard. I instructed him to keep a sharp eye on the ridge to our right. We decided to take a break for awhile, when I positioned Candy several yards away from everyone and facing that ridge. Just then Candy gave a very strong alert and was stareing at the top of the ridge. I could see what looked like an ape. Now I had to say something to the Platoon Leader. With his glasses to his face, he advises me that it is nothing more than a Rock Ape. "What the hell is a Rock Ape, I ask?" " Well it's a monkey large type, 6 foot or better that will follow us for awhile and when he has had enough of looking at us it will then throw rocks." I'm all about teaching this monkey a lesson in showing up to a gun fight with rocks in your hand. But no, we can't give away the almighty position. We get the order to move out and I'm up on point. Just then the damn monkey throws one hell of a rock and hits one of the guys in the head. Thank god he had a helmet on. Cursing and screaming was the next thing I heard followed by the guy hollowing, "I'm hit." Not a shot was fired and he was hit. Now the monkey has us pinned down and Candy wants to go up and attack this fur bearing idiot. The monkey was really throwing rocks and all we could do was take cover when the M79 man (gernade launcher) stood up and said good bye to the monkey. One shot and there was monkey all over the hill. Great! Now Candy is all excited and we have to change directions. Return To Top 3. Dick King 6/67-6/68 US Navy Erich 81X2 & Rebel 78X4 lap_top@swbell.net I was a Navy dog handler stationed in Da Nang. Being a Sentry Dog handler I trained at Lackland and went to Nam in March, 1968. Upon arrival I picked up Erich, 81X2. I'm sure all of my fellow handlers are familiar with the layout of our dogs kennel but, for other readers it might be helpful understanding the following story if I give a brief description. Each dog was kept in an individual kennel that was approximately 4 feet wide and maybe 10 feet deep. On both sides was a concrete wall about waist high, the back end, both sides (above the concrete), and the ceiling were made from cyclone fencing, the front of course had a gate (door) also made from fencing. That's about it, except for a bench bolted along one wall. The bench was meant as a place where the dog could get off the floor so that he did not have to sleep on concrete and it's the bench that is the point of this story. The bench was supported off the wall with some angle iron. It was maybe 18" wide and 4 feet long, the top was made out of five 2x4's. Ever wonder what our dogs did in their kennel all day, while we were sleeping? Erich's favorite thing to do was to gnaw on the bench in his kennel. Every evening when I went to pick him up there would be evidence that he'd been chewing on his bench. Periodically, while I had him out on post one of the Petty Officers would go into his kennel and replace the first 2x4. I finally talked to the Vet, asked him about the chewing, (he said it was likely just boredom), and what I could or should do about it. He suggested I put some Tabasco sauce on it. The plan, of course, was that Erich would taste the Tabasco, and immediately decide chewing the bench was no longer fun. So, I followed the Vets instructions. I picked up a bottle of Tabasco from the mess hall, took it to the kennels, and bathed the bench with it. I mean I emptied the bottle, letting it soak in every square in of the bench. I finally finished, confident that Erich's bench chewing days had come to an abrupt halt. As you probably guessed, that was not the case; or I wouldn;t be writing this story would I? Well, you're right, he continued to chew. It just so happened I had the night off that night so I didn't see Erich until the following morning. I went to his kennel expecting to see him and his pristine, un-chewed-on bench. What I found was Erich and two angle iron brackets hanging on the wall. He not only didn't mind the Tabasco, apparently it was just what that bench needed to be truly tasty! There wasn't even a splinter left, he'd consumed the entire thing. That's approximately 20 feet of 2x4's he ate in one night!!!! Dick King Return To Top 4. Steve Janke 10/70-10/71 USAF Kobuc X488 Jank953208@aol.com Kobuc was a wardog who served his country well. Not just his country but saved my life..is the story I'd like to tell. Many times he kept me from harms way. He is the reason I finished my tour and made it home on the last day. He loved the sound of the trucks coming up the hill... Full of troops soon to take them all out to work is what gave them the thrill. Kobuc like the rest loved to go out and guard the base line. I think of him still and tell people I am proud that while being in Vietnam he was mine. I carry his picture with me wherever I am. Kobuc was God's gift to me from Uncle Sam. Return To Top 5. Steve Janke 10/70-10/71 USAF Kobuc X488 Jank953208@aol.com STORY 2 483d SPS, Cam Ranh Bay - On May 23, 1971 I went to my assigned Kilo post #6 along with my friend George Reavis and a new fella we called Ski. We quartered our post and took our positions. George and I were next to each other and walked between our posts to talk. These posts were about 150 yards out in front of the POL tanks in a cleared area just in front of an open wood line. We had just received our new orders that day and were excited about going home in a few months. The new man, Ski, came over and said he had an alert and were we walking around in the woods a few minutes ago. New guys always have animal alerts was our thoughts. Reavis and Ski started walking down Kilo 5's post, I followed. George left his web belt with ammo on the ground but had one clip in his weapon. Soon all 3 dogs hit an alert as we entered the woods and shots rang out as we were taking small arms fire. I was yelling for George to get down when a suitcase-satchel was thrown at us. Before it hit the ground it exploded. Siloutted by lights at our back I stood to fire at the muzzle flashes only to find my weapon is jammed. A second satchel charge is thrown at our direction and my dog Kobuc starts pulling me toward my post up a small hill. I followed him and at the top of the hill see about eight enemy soldiers coming toward us. I could not get through on the radio so I called in on law enforcement frequency. They were surprised to hear from me. It is at this point I see my first sapper up close. He looked younger than me. With the lights in his face I put him in my sites. Do I give away my position by firing . . . am I in someone's sites also . . . do they have grenades? A lot of things were going through my mind. As I looked at him he spotted me and jumped behind some bushes. I immediately fired three rounds into the bushes and then heard a volley of gunfire going over me into the woods as our men were firing at movement. A helicopter came in and opened fire into the woods. He put a spotlight on me and Kobuc. I said a prayer and made sure he saw the dog. George and Ski had pulled back already and I had thrown my radio away in anger when talking to an officer on it who asked if I was sure it wasn't some animal out there. After being pinned by "Friendly Fire" for a while, I was able to be identified by the chopper and to pull back. As we were sweeping the tanks out past the woods in the direction of the Army POL area, the sky lit up. This sapper squad, or a similar team, had hit them also. We are feeling kind of lucky when Cam Ranh starts taking rockets---not your average night here at Cam Ranh. The next day an enemy camp site was found not far away with a stash of weapons, and some swim gear. There was also a pool of blood found in the bushes I pointed out. Notice I said pointed---couldn't get me in those woods so soon. The Air Force wanted my lost radio, which is actually why I was there. And yes, we found it. It seems just when you felt safe stuff happened to straighten out your thinking. I didn't feel short for sometime. I also want to thank Eugene Blaskowski, the "New Guy", for probably saving our lives and others: Wherever you are Ski, thanks! I also want you to know about Sgt. Steve Keife who responded with another K-9 team to give me cover-fire so I could pull back. Sgt. Keife was with Billy Klinger and his dog, Bingo. Return To Top 6. Stanley Widejko Jr 12/68-12/69 US Army Toby 6X78 widejko1@shtc.net It was just another steamy, hot day, one of many that seemed to run together in Vietnam. Toby and I were supporting the 2nd battalion, (Mech), 22nd Infantry, better known as the triple deuce. For me and Toby it was rather routine, easy duty. We both got to ride on their armored personnel carriers (APC's) to where ever we were going to work that day. When it was time to work I was able to leave most of my gear on the trac. Boy, that sure lightened the load. That day our mission was to do a routine road sweep, to allow safe passage of a resupply convoy that was to come later on. I positioned myself and Toby approximately 10 yards in front of two mine sweepers who were checking the road for mines and I was flanked on both sides by two riflemen for my protection. Dog handlers know that it's almost impossible to do anything else but to keep your eyes on your dog. Everything was going on pretty routinely as we walked down the clay top road. But then things changed. Toby began to focus his attention completely on the ground. It was only a few seconds later that Toby sat down right next to my left leg. I had never seen Toby do this before. I immediately froze in my footsteps. The column of tracs and everyone else on the ground stopped. Toby continued to put his nose close to the ground sniffing. I knew something was wrong. Keeping myself in place, I put Toby behind me and squatted down for a look. The only thing I saw in the ground looked like an ordinary bottle cap, just inches in front of me. Or was it a bottle cap? I signaled to one of the mine sweepers to come and look. At this time I carefully moved myself and Toby back to the first trac. A couple more soldiers went forward to check it out. They did a little probing around the "bottle cap", which was not a bottle cap, but the pressure switch to a mine. It did not take long for those fellows to safely detonate the mine. It made a huge hole in that hard clay road. Needless to say, Toby became a hero to me and the "triple deuce" that day. Stan Widejko Return To Top 7. Roy Fish 11/68-11/69 USMC Russian 92M4 rgfish@syix.com Right after I took control of Russian, 92M4, a sentry dog turned Narcotics, I spent the last few days with a fellow named Bruce Sterns who was going home. I had never seen anyone so eager to get out of Nam. My very first day working all the R&R flights went without incident. I think we just got use to each other that day because from that day on, he was sucessful in finding all types of drugs. No dope that first day, but me and the ducks had worked out a plan to like each other ( babyducks was Russians nickname ) and we would put together a united front. That evening I was taking ducks back to the kennels as had him leashed into my jeep, to the upper crossbar, we started out through the R&R site and then into dogpatch, a small village outside the Danang Air Base. As we passed through the villa, soldiers kept yelling at me and I was soooo proud of being with ducks that I just kept getting on. Anyplace there was a crowd, the yelling would start and then as we got close to the kennels, even Americans started to yell. Well once at the kennels and putting ducks away and washing down his kennel and feeding him, I thought what a great day. When I got back to the R&R Center where I was billeted, I reach back for my work bag and was horrified at what I saw. 31 berets of different colors , and one of forrest green right on top. I returned all except the green one, that was a souvenir, and after that I learned to keep the jeep away from anyone riding, walking or just not watching where they were standing. These were not the only beret's he got. When we were working flights that had Green Berets from the 5th special forces group, I had to watch him like a hawk. Russian was the best buddy and friend I had in the Nam. A lot of guys from the Sentry dog kennels are still in touch and talk about those days and those dogs. I was a token Marine, the only one ever to handle a Navy Sentry dog during the Nam experience and always grateful to all those Sentry dogs and handlers that walked post and went out evrynight, they were and still are my hero's. Return To Top 8. Steve Crane 5/69-4/70 USAF Major smcrane@classicnet.net Major was not an energetic sentry dog. He was very aggressive, but he did not like wasting energy. He was a little over weight, and like most of us he did not care for Thailand's hot and humid climate. Major liked the "down" position, If I stopped walking he would go down without a command. Now this behavior gave the appearance that Major was a lazy and unassertive K-9. Actually, Major was very alert in the down position. Also, Major knew just how far he could reach when on the leash. If someone was standing 6 1/2 feet from him he would act like they were not around. Let them get within 6 feet (length of the leash) and within a blink of the eye he would be on top of them. Growling and snapping like a crazy wild dog. The first time he pulled that maneuver I was totally off guard. Major just about knocked me off my feet when he charged one of the other handlers. Fortunately this guy was quick to react and Major missed, barely. After that incident I learned to keep Major on a short leash when around other guys. Unless we had a new guy at the kennels and then it was time to have some fun. The most fun I had with that trick was with MSgt Hammer, K-9 NCOIC. Hammer was an old "Brown Shoe" airman (before the Air Force was established it was the Army Air Corp & they wore brown shoes). He was 100% old school airman. Also, he did not have an "A" after his "81150". That meantt old Sgt Hammer had never been a dog handler. He did not know sentry dogs or dog handler mentality. What fun. The crazy guy tried to do post checks on foot one night, but never again. He also showed up one night for Guardmount. We were all standing around with our dogs, smoking and joking, when Sgt. Hammer drives up. He tried to be one of the guys and came over to talk to me. Of course Major was in the down position at my feet looking like he's half asleep. When I saw Hammer coming towards me I released the short leash hold. A few seconds later Hammer was under that 6 ft. limit and Major tore after him like holy hell. Hammer escaped uninjured, but he lost the spit shine on one of his boots. Return To Top 9. Steve Crane 5/69-4/70 USAF Major smcrane@classicnet.net The Legend of Chen's Bunker Udorn RTAFB, Thailand As told by Steve Crane Someone needs to tell this story, I'm not sure I am the right guy, but here it goes. I call this story a legend because it had been past down to me from other sentry dog handlers. I am sure everyone who has been assigned to the 432nd SPS at Udorn Royal Thai Air Force Base has heard the same story. I first hear this story in the summer of 1969. Udorn RTAFB was hit during the January 1968 infamous tet offensive. Shortly after this strike the USAF shipped in the first sentry dogs and handlers to protect the base. Chen was a Thai Guard. On the eve of the story he was assigned a parameter bunker on the northwest side of the runway. There was a road from the city of Udorn that ended near this bunker. This road was a perfect route for insurgents in disguise. Chen saw the car approaching. He walked up to a woman getting out of the car. She was a seductive devil, and during the seduction attackers came from behind. Chen was stabbed numerous times. He called out for help. Chen did not get this help even though the runway parameter had bunkers about every 250 feet. The nearest bunkers were also manned with Thai Guards. Chen's peers did not come to his aid. They ran while the attackers finished off Chen. Chen's alert did save the base. He was able to call in the attack on his radio. A 432nd SPS Tiger Flight response team and a bunker of airmen with a M-60 kept the insurgents at bay. They never reached the flight line. Chen's spirit never left the site of his unjustly death. Everyone knew Chen's bunker was haunted. You could feel the unrest as you patrolled by his bunker at night. Thai guards would never man Chen's bunker. During the blistering heat of daylight the Thai Guards assigned to Chen's bunker never sought out the shade of the bunker. Even during the heaviest rains of the monsoon season you would never find a Thai Guard standing in Chen's bunker? Everyone knew that Chen's spirit was looking for revenge. He was looking for those fellow Thai guards that left him to his death. I got into Chen's bunker one night during a blinding downpour in the summer of 1969. I had already heard Chen's story, but then I had my partner Major a trusty sentry dog looking out for me. Everyone knows that even a dog is smart enough to get out of the rain. The only problem was Major would not enter Chen's bunker. I was starting to wonder about his intellect when goose bumps formed on the back of my neck. I would never doubt Major after that night. We walked in that monsoon downpour for the remainder of our shift. I never entered Chen's bunker again! Return To Top 10. George L Conklin 4/70-3/71 nkpk970@yahoo.com Dedicated To the military working dog who gave so much, and asked for so little. and to my brother dog handlers. For it was a noble cause. We few,we precious few. We band of brothers for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.. Be he ner so vile, this day shall gentlel his condition and gentleman in England now abed. Think themselves accursed that the were not here. and hold their manhood's cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us opon St. Crispins day. W. Shakespeare Having been only 230 air miles from Hanoi, North Vietnam, Nakhon Phanom (Naked Fanny as we locals called it) was safe haven for many of the fast movers;F-4s, F-105s, F-5s, and some of the navys A-7, A-4s, A-6s and many other battle damaged Aircraft Who flew missions over The North, the Ho Chi Min Trail or The trail as it was more commonly known. Well this particular day wasn't so different. As I don't remember the day, I do remember that I was down town at Johnny's (a quaint little bar along the Mekong river) with some of the local talent. Having to work that night, I decided that I would catch a decent meal. We had pretty good chow at the Skyraider Inn. Named after our many A-1 Skyraiders (call sign HOBO / SANDY ). So I jumped on the bus and got off at the main gate and took a taxi back to the hooch. It was when I got back to the hooch, that I heard of this F-105 Thunderchief (thud as they called it) was inbound with battle damage, a fire warning light and smoke in the cockpit. Word traveled fast. Well this Lt.Col. couldn't make it in and punched out. He hit the silk about a quarter mile out . The aircraft impacted just outside the base perimeter and the debris splash took out our concertina wire, tangle foot and numerous trip flares. Leaving a gaping hole in our defenses. Continuing on, the aircraft (or what was left of it) slid across the perimeter road and slammed into the observation tower and the M-60 machine gun bunker at it's base. B-29 or Bravo-two Nine (as it was better known) which was located at the end of the active runway, Was now destroyed. Given the fact that it was daylight, there was no U.S.A.F.Security Policeman posted there, but we did lose the life of the Thai guard posted in the bunker. The pilot, made it out just fine. At guardmount that night, I was Taken aside and met with my flight chief, kennel master and some brass from the head shed. I was the Briefed on the events of the day and was promptly given my post. Yep, you guessed it ......That gaping hole at Bravo two nine.... . My mission, was to enter that area just off base and secure it. I was assured that there was no ordinance left in the area as EOD cleared it and deemed the area safe. Yea right.; the checks in the mail too..... . Hell, there was 20 mike-mike rounds scattered all over the place. Well, who am I to argue. After checking out my assigned weapon and a few extra slap flares (hand fired parachute illumination flares). I then proceeded to the kennels and picked up my best friend and partner-Ango (ear tag 0k31). A dark dog of 5 years and about 75 pounds. He knew his job and did it well...... . This night he was to save my life........ .Upon entering the area I immediately sized up the situation, Wind direction, cover and concealment and the best way out should things really heat up, bunker locations etc. Call sign: Night Fighter Six Four....... Earlier at the briefing it was best determined that I clear the area and then take-up a defensive position where as if any one entered the area I would call in the dog's alert and then receive the necessary help from the sector QRT(Quick reaction team) the QRF (quick reaction force) and of course the Thai AF As well as our nightly orbiting HH-3E (601 SOW) Helicopter with flare kicker, Sunspot search light and 7.62 miniguns. We also had a very eager mortar pit crew at our disposal and K-sat (K-9). Now the vegetation was something else, as you could get down on your hands and knees and see for many yards. Yet , if you stood on your feet you then could only see for a few feet. As Ango and my self were clearing the area; he stopped and looking over his right shoulder, streaked passed me and proceeded to rip into one of three individuals lurking under this bush just inches by my side. I let him chew, as I was know very busy with two others that failed to heed my challenge. I'm now popping illumination and squeak'n and freak'n on the radio. It did not take long for the QRF in their M-113 to come bust'n in, as did the QRT from bravo sector in their 706 / v100 armored car. I had learned later that they were never very far away. Well, One Thai national got away, which we figured was OK as he / she could tell the others that..... , It's not the dark you have to be afraid of .......But what hunts in the dark. and that you don't fool around with those K-9 cops at NKP. One of the other teams caught another and of course Ango, my dog, had his trophy. As things settled down and we debriefed. It was then determined that the Thai that Ango had got had a US issue bayonet on him (I wonder where he got that?) and at the time the dog had struck all this guy would have had to do was to thrust his hand and arm up and he would have got me between the ribs and probably my liver. I would have just bled out...... . Right there. Well things settled down, and pretty soon it was business as usual, A few months latter I rotated back to the 'World' and my new duty station. Of course, saying good by to Ango was hard; did ya ever see a grown man cry?...... . Now today, thirty years later as I reflect back, the good Lord had his hand on my shoulder as he did for all of us during those difficult times. I often think of the good o'l days at NKP. Someday I hope to return for some closure and to reminisce. But there is not a day that goes by that I don't think of 'Ango'...... Return To Top 11. David Howey 10/68-10/70 dhowey@state.pa.us I first met Baron at Ft. Benning Ga.we were paired together in an On-leash class in 1969. When I researched his papers I found out that he was donated to the Air Force from an Army Major that lived in Alabama. After 8 weeks of training we were selected as a team to become members of an Off-leash class because he was such a unique dog and we were one of the better canine teams in the off-leash class. During the next 12 weeks we were trained in working together without a leash, by using a silent dog whistle and hand commands. Once again we turned out to be one of the better teams, we were selected to participate in the honor graduate evaluation and finished second in our class, although I felt that we deserved to be Number one because Baron did not miss anything during the patrol on the trail that was set up. And after words the board stated that they had never seen a handler dog relationship like the one that Baron and myself had together. We were sent to Viet Nam together on an Air Force plane direct from Ft. Benning along with the other members of our Off-leash class. After a couple of weeks at the Canine training center at Long Binh we were assigned to the 44th IPSD 25th Infantry Division, one of the elite outfits in Viet Nam and the only outfit that had a Medal of Honor winner in SSgt. Bob Hartsock who was from Maryland. We worked mainly with the 2/27th Wolfhounds one of the better outfits in the 25th. On over 100 Combat Patrols Baron never lost a man to enemy fire or booby traps and found numerous booby traps and caches of Rice that the VC had stored. He also alerted to Enemy personnel that was in the Iron Triangle. One of the most unique times that Baron proved to be a life saver was when we were attached to the 9th Infantry Division out of a Naval base called Tra-Cue. We were working off the Patrol Boats that ran up and down the river looking for the enemy and caches that they had hidden in the delta. We were going up river one afternoon when we were set off the boats to cut off an enemy patrol that was trying to get away from some attack helicopters. I took the point and we were moving rather quickly when all of a sudden Baron sat and would not move forward any more. This was his alert for Booby traps, I called back to the Lt. and told him what we had and he ordered us to move to right and go around the area as we had to cut off the enemy. I took Baron by the harness and moved him to the right and gave him the command to search, but once again he refused to move forward, and once again I told the Lt. He ordered us to move further right as we had to get moving fast, I grabbed Baron by the harness once again and tried to move right and forward, once again Baron stopped us from moving forward. the Lt. came up and we were discussing the situation when all of a sudden a bunch of King Cobra snakes jumped up where we were trying to move. You should have seen us move then. We had some concussion grenades and quickly deposited the where the snakes were. It seems that we came upon a nest of Cobras that were feeding on a dead animal. Baron had kept the entire patrol from a nasty situation. I left Viet Nam in October of 1970 and Baron was assigned to a friend of mine, Rick Tollefson who was extremely grateful as his canine was not near as competent as Baron. When they first started to train together Baron ran from him and found me sitting in our club. Then I had to take him back to Rick and explain that Rick was his new handler and that he had to watch out for him as he had done for me. They never let Baron off-leash until I had left Country, and that was perhaps the most difficult things that I had to tell poor Baron. In December of 1970 the 25th was pulled out and Rick was short so he too came home, he was from Rochester, New York and called me to let me know that Baron had also performed admirably while Rick was his handler. For years it bothered me that I was the one that took Baron to the Nam and then just deserted him. This past year while looking at different web sites I saw a roster from the 59th IPSD and noticed that Baron 7M08 was listed on their roster and he served with two different handlers, he once again had done his job thoroughly. But I was still bothered by the fact that I had deserted him. Then one day I received an e-mail from the VDHA with a list of dogs that were returned from Viet Nam, I quickly looked at the dogs named Baron, and there he was, Baron 7M08 one great dog that truly deserved to come home I only wish I could have welcomed him home. It was through the experience that I gained while serving with Baron that has helped me with my career today, I am currently the Drug Unit Coordinator and Canine instructor for the Pennsylvania Dept. of Corrections and to this day I mention Baron all the time and have his picture with me. Many times when we have a dog go out of service I will give my trained dog to another handler and people say how can you do that after having such a bond with your dog. I look at them and pull out the picture of Baron 7M08 and say this dog saved my life and many other lives in Viet Nam and I had to leave him there. Thanks for letting me vent, one of these days I plan on going back to Ft. Benning and hopefully Lackland Air Force base to try to find Barons final resting place. I know that he is waiting by the gate for me and I am looking forward to seeing his "SMILE" once again. Lt. David J. Howey Sr. Drug Interdiction Unit Coordinator K-9 Instructor Return To Top 12. Roger Jarvis 8/66-7/67 friday@fridaysweb.net [Looking in the eyes of the enemy] We arrived in south vietnam in aug of 1966.From there we went to pleiku in the central highlands of South Vietnam.I was with the 40th infantry scout dogs attached to the 25 infantry. I had been in vietnam about four months when I was sent out to do a search mission with platoon B of the 25th infantry. So I had been out with that platoon a few times already, and I knew most of the guys in it. That day I flew out on a chopper without breakfast. When I got there we had breakfast with them, and we all got ready to go on a search mission. They had seen some North Vietnam soldiers in the area and we were to go out and try to find them. So we started out that morning, I worked point as we went through the jungle. A scout dog is suppose to alert you if there is anything out in front of you then we would go and scout it out to see if we could find anything. Well on that morning I had been working point for about an hour when my dogs ears perked forward and he started smelling the air I held my hand up for everyone to stop. And the lieutenant came up to me and ask what is it. I told him my dog had alerted on something out front. He told me to go a little further so I did. I guess I had gone about 20 feet and my dog did the same thing again, I stopped everyone again. The lieutenant came up again and said what's going on. I told him my dog had alerted again and that I knew that there was someone out there. So he said go a little further and if he does it again we will send someone out to check it out. So I started out again when I had went about 20 more feet. Then I saw him it was a north Vietnam soldier a sleep on the ground with his rifle laying beside him. Just as I had saw him he must have heard us. He reached for his rifle and stood up all in one move. Well I had already taken the safety of my M16 and was ready for anything. As he stood up we both looked each other in the eyes and what I saw was fear looking back at me. I could see the fear in his eyes and I'm sure he could see the same in mine. But I guess instinct took over me because without even thinking I pulled the trigger. I had my weapon set on automatic, and by the time I had taken my finger off the trigger I had shot him nine times in the chest. And he fell to the ground dead. Until this day I see them eyes looking at me I have felt bad about it for along time. But I think if I had not of acted when I did I might have been the one laying on the ground dead. So after all things calmed down, B platoon scouted out the area for about 500 yards all around us to see if there was anymore. But they didn't find anymore. Meanwhile I was looking in his pockets to see if I could find anything like a map or some kind of paper that might help us find out where his buddies were. While I was looking I found his wallet and was looking through it to see what I could find. When I came up on a single photograph with a little girl I would say she was about three years old and a woman standing beside each other. They both had the sweetest smile on their face. Then a really hard sadness came on me. I knew I had just killed that little girls daddy, and that women's husband, and some mom and dads son. So I knelt down and said a prayer for him. We couldn't bury him so I stuck the barrel of his gun in the ground by his head and hung his hat on it. That was the best I could do for him at the time. I still am saddened at the picture I saw that day and the look I saw in his eyes. It's a wonder any of us came back home sane. I saw so much that haunts me still today. This if the first time I have ever told anyone this story. After 30 some years I think its about time I told it. Thanks to my dog (Tray) I am able to write this cause without him I know I would not be here. Roger Jarvis Return To Top 13. Eric Cobb 3/69-5/70 colcobb@syv.com You are my Guru By Eric Cobb Follow Me "Follow Me," I shouted as I turned tail and headed the other way as fast as my legs could carry me. Forty men scrambled in forty different directions hitting the ground and curling up inside their helmets trying to seek some sort of protection from small missiles and projectiles. I had emptied two clips by the time I hit the ground and was slamming the third one in. God only knows where my dog had gone. Fearing the gunfire I'm sure he left the area as fast as he could. I emptied two more clips when I looked around for the other men and no one was putting out any fire but me. I always worked with another point man for moments like this but he was too scared to fire. New guy. I yelled at him to shoot but nothing. I'm still emptying clips and slamming them into my M-16. I crawl over to him, got right in his ear and yell, "Fire!" I see him take a couple of shots as I empty another clip and that's it. One more time, "Fire or I'll shoot you!" Okay he finally empties one clip. We quickly decided to move back to where the rest of the company is. Just as we get up he takes it right in the face stopping a round that would have truly hit me. His first and last mission. It seemed like that was always the way it was. The old guys were the old guys and there never were that many new guys and always a shortage of guys. And when it was all done and everything was said, I passed out the cigarettes. There was nothing like a good nicotine rush after surviving a firefight. Just keep the adrenalin pumping through the blood a little longer. A quick prayer to God and a thank you to the two guardian angels that I knew were watching over me and I knew who they were. When you see death everyday for a year and get to know how fragile life is, that sixth sense does come to life. I found I could move at the speed of light while my comrades looked like snails. Asked by one fellow infantryman, "How long have you been in country?" My response, "long enough to know." "Know what?" he said. "That I want to go home." Although I really didn't think that was going to be the case. My dog Moose was not far away and we soon joined up. He knew when to leave the area. He was the one that told me we were walking into that ambush. Some how when it was for real his alerts were different. Like saying "Look dummy, if you miss this one, you're really stupid." Then I would look around and ask myself, "How the hell did I get myself into this situation?" And fear would run throughout my body. This was often the case. The thumping of that damn helicopter that left you out in no mans land and you were sure that would be the last time. You know. The last time you would ever hear that sound again. That was the loneliest. And the best sound was the thumping of that same damn helicopter coming to pick you out of that field unless it was taking you to another God forsaken place. Look out for the hot one can of beer or the melted ice cream. Those came along when you were going to a place that is hell. Okay, another war story. I have over three hundred and sixty five of them. The thing that gets me the most is how one year out of a person's life can have such a dramatic effect on the rest of his or her life. It has been over thirty years and still a day doesn't go by that I don't think of that time. The killing and the karma and where is my place in God's heaven. Will He want me? And you say it is okay and I say I was too young to know any better. I kept my head about me and only shot those that shot at me. Most of the time just a bunch of bushes and things you never saw. Moose and I were working with this company that I had never been with before. We were following a river and I was telling the point man, my shotgun, everything that was coming up. He was in amazement that I could tell what was coming before it happened. It had all been friendly until Moose throw one of his better get this one alert down the river and I told the point man something was coming, at that moment four gooks came around the bend in a sanpan. We ladayed them over. Vietnamese for come over. Four AK-47s came up from nowhere. Before I could even think, I had slammed eighteen rounds out of my M-16 and four men lay dead in front of me. I will never get that sick feeling out of my brain and that wasn't my first. It never gets easy like the Westerns say unless you make them nonhuman and play some kid game like cowboys and Indians but even at that death has a harsh reality. Another such mission, after being dropped off into the field, boonies, or bush, we were looking for a mortar platoon of North Vietnamese right in the DMZ. We were set up for the night when Moose alerted down the top of the mountain spotting two gooks, means foreigners. I don't know why we called them the gooks we were the foreigners. The captain called for his M-79s. Who knew where they were but ole lighten speed me was there with my over under M-16, M-79. I started pumping some HE rounds, High Explosive, right into the direction of the two gooks. We were really looking to put them out of commission. Two more M-79ers showed up and we continued pumping rounds in that area. Now the whole company had to move off that hill because everyone in the area knew our position. We were moving fast and furious. We got a few clicks, two thousand meters, away when mortar rounds started falling all around us. By this time it was dark, the worst time to be moving. We took cover the best we could under our hard hats. This is the first time every bone in my body disconnected it self and shook in a different direction. I didn't know it could do that. One helpless feeling waiting for it all to stop. It finally did and we moved on without any injury and settled in another less ideal spot for the night. A hot day in Southeast Asia and I was wanting some ice for my soda or just to put on my head to cool off. Ice can be a very luxurious commodity in a place like this. Most of the sodas and beer are made to be served hot. Maybe less carbonation I don't know. The only place to get ice was just out side the base camp. I grabbed Geller, a fellow dog handler who wanted ice too, we jumped into the duce and a half, big truck and headed off to get ice. We stopped at the gate and the guard tells us that the gooks are having some kind of skirmish and gunfire coming from that area. But, when you want some ice you got to have some ice. Maybe brain fade from the heat. "Thank you, thank you," and off we go. We arrive at the small village just out side the gate. Geller goes inside a small bar to get the ice and I stay outside to guard the truck. The next thing I know is a Viet Cong comes around the corner and I come face to face with fear itself. "How do I know he is a Viet Cong?" you ask. When you see a gook carrying an AK-47 you can be sure he is not on your side. Our eyes lock on each other. Now, I don't want any trouble and surely not with this guy because I know all his buddies are near by. I nod and he continues right by me. Not a word is said. Geller came out with the ice and we spend the rest of the day cooling off. You can appreciate the small things in life when it is your life. I never told Geller what happened when he was getting the ice. Geller was the gung ho type. When he came in from the field to retrain his dog he would hurry off to the landing pad volunteering to be a gunner on the helicopters until the day he got shot. He then became the biggest shammer I ever saw. He found out he was not invincible. Jiminy Cricket and the ninetieth replacement. A place when you first come into country where you are assigned to a company or in my case, platoon. Paper work needs to be done. Anyway, to make a short story short. I came over in a military plane carrying forty dogs and four or five men who graduated out of my class. I was the third off leash class to go through Ft. Benning, GA. We would take care of the dogs while we were waiting for our orders to report to where ever. Toft, a fellow who I had become friends with, and myself would go over to the NCO club. (non-commission officers). We would have a few drinks when they would close the club because of some skirmish going on outside. They called them yellow alerts and a red one would be bad. One evening on such an occasion we were walking back to the billets, where you stay for the evening, when we walked right into a bank of CS gas, like tear gas. If you have ever been in tear gas I needn't tell you more. But for those that haven't, It affects your nose, runny beyond control, eyes, watery to the point you can not see, any tender skin area, armpits and groin become itchy. Toft and myself are arguing as to the difference between tear gas and CS gas. To this day I don't think there is a difference but who knows? We both have the symptoms described above as the gas bank is following us with the wind. By the time we make it to the billets everyone is running out wondering what to do. This is our first day in country and I'll never forget this black fellow who looks and walks just like Jiminy Cricket, comes up to me and gets right in my face with eyes bigger then silver dollars and says, "What do we do? We don't have any gas masks." I look at him with my runny nose and watering eyes smile and say, "Panic". Everyone is running over to a beer club next door soaking rags and towels in ice water and putting them over their faces trying to get some relief from the gas. As I walk in with this smile on my face I feel a calm come over everyone in the club and I know something is different with me and I like it. I didn't know what it was at that time. It is not something I try to do or be, it just is. I don't believe a sane person wants to hurt another person. On my first mission I was a shotgun to an old guy, dog handler. I too was to scared to fire my weapon then. I watched a company of men, they vary in size but at this time I would say we had thirty. We had just got sniped at, a gook hiding in the bush where you can't see them and he takes a shot at you, when we see a gook running from that direction across this rice patty about one hundred yards away. The entire company starts shooting at this guy and no one hits him. I'm just watching thinking I know I could hit him. I wasn't so sure he was the one that took a shot at us. He just happened to be near that area. It wasn't until the M-60 machine gun got set up that brought him down. Badly wounded we called in a medivac to take him out and question him. I had worked with this company over the past few months with no action. Every two weeks or so I had to return with Moose, to the base camp, for some training. The dog needs training to keep his interest up and alert. I returned to our base camp trained a day and headed back to the same company which had now diminished down to eight guys. This fellow came up to me and said, "Man did we hit the shit. You should have been here." They had walked right into an ambush. Yes, it would have been different if I had been there. In some ways I was sort of glad I wasn't but on the other hand, it would have been different. At the base camp while training Moose, and Moose was the best, I was often told that he was smarter then me, I'll give him that, I put him in attach mode on the company clerk. Moose was so well trained that I could break his attach with the word, "Out!" within three feet from his target and he would stop. This time I wasn't fast enough and he nipped the clerk on the butt. Not hard enough to break skin but hurt a little. Okay I'm a jerk with the clerk but a guy has to have a little fun and I did get repamanded for that action. I'd like to do it again right now. This time I'd let Moose get a little better bit. Hee he he hee, the devil made me do it. I try to make some since out of all this or some rationalization but ever since I got into this country all reason escapes me. War stories can go on and on forever and I have plenty of them. They come across my mind in lighting speed and one leads to another. My fingers are too slow to put them down fast enough. I don't know if I can capture the feeling, fear, magic, and oddity of Viet Nam. I think one had to be there. A place that was out of scale with the rest of the world and I believe still is today. I have no desire to go back there as a few have done. A wise old Indian once said, "When you get to be my age, a warm fire and a good blanket is all that one needs." Those are things that happened another life time long ago and need to stay there. Okay, I make it home. May 29, 1970 I leave Viet Nam and arrive in Fort Lewis Washington. I literally run through the processing out of the Army and am in Los Angeles the same day as a civilian. One long day. I am in shock. I can't believe I made it. I got drafted in Denver and when you get out they give you enough money to buy a ticket back to where you came in. I had always wanted to go to Los Angeles and get a job in Malibu. This had been my long kid dream from the time I was fourteen. I would go to the airport, in my home town and watch the one flight a day at two o'clock every day, a DC-3 land and pick up passengers and off to Las Vegas and then Los Angeles. I had always wanted to be on that plane. I get there in a different way but at least I get there. I had saved some money. What can you do with it when you're out in the bush? I was heading for the beach on Santa Monica Boulevard when I came by a Buick dealer and went inside and bought right off the show room floor an Opel GT. Remember those? I had that car for nine months and put close to eighty thousand miles on it. I wanted to see the country I had been fighting for. I'm sure I was on every road in the United States at least once and some maybe twice. I found myself being blamed and named as a baby killer. I hated that the most. Returning home to a country that made me deny who I was and hiding the fact that I spent a year looking death in the face for this country fighting in the name against communism. And when I asked the field workers and villagers in Viet Nam, "What is communism?" they had no idea what I was talking about. Yes, people in the large cities knew but the majority just wanted to grow rice, live their lives in peace and raise their children. Canada may have been a better choice looking in retrospect but I was young and my father was in a more popular war. I really thought I was doing something good for my country. I think we all, that went over there, thought so. Why else would we have gone? Several years later I'm in this shrink's office because of some relationship that didn't go right and this girl that I fell so madly in love with jilted me for another guy and ripped my heart out. He wants to talk about Viet Nam and is looking for a war story. What the hell is this? I think. Okay, I'll give you a war story. I'm telling him about coming across some Viet Cong women that fight to the death that we torcher for information and how the Americans mutilated the bodies when it was all over. He says to me, "Why didn't you stop it?" I realized right then that he had no idea. "Have you ever tried to control a mob?" I asked him. "One person cannot do anything." I wonder about this new "Army of One." Too many people in a grocery store can cause me to panic. Some times I have had to leave as fast as I can just to get some space and fresh air. This was one of those. I never went back to see him again. I don't know why I picked this story to share with him, maybe because it had to do with women and the death of a relationship. He never got the point and I was alone again. I was working with the Fifth Mechanized up near the DMZ with an old company I had worked with many times when a fellow from the tank division went nuts, crazy, off his rocker. He was firing his rifle into air for no reason. We were all locked and loaded on him. If he hurt anyone we were going to take him out. Of course he gave our position away, at night, and we were attacked. You know it is close when the tanks lower their guns and fire clechéts, small nails with fins on them that nail body parts to trees when fired. We were about to be overrun. A moment when all hope is lost. I got out of my foxhole and went over to Moose. I took him over to an APC, personnel carrier, and lowered the door. I put Moose under the door for protection and returned to the foxhole and returned fire. The bullets and shrapnel were whizzing all around me. How I ever got out of that country without even a scratch is truly a miracle. Thank you God. Viet Nam will change your religion. All this time I thought I was an atheist but until you live with death and see the spirit leave the body just from the smallest of metal and yet take so much punishment and keep going and not open your eyes to the truth, you will be blind in a world of your own. I'm not saying that might not be so bad but what of life you are missing. I am not talking about the God you go to church on Sunday for, I'm talking about the God that is ever present. He is there always and not just when you need him. Yes, yes, I know I'm preaching on my high horse. And you ask where was that God that let so many people die and suffer so much. I too wondered and still wonder today. That is part of life. I know that every ending in my life has been a new beginning. I know this is true for you too. To me death is a change, like ice melting or water boiling changing to steam. Something not to fear but to try and accept the change. Big red ants. If you were going to walk down a trail in the jungle of Southeast Asia you would start to notice square box like leafs in the bushes above you. This is where the biggest red ants would build nests and lie in wait for some furry animal to walk under; they would jump down on you neck and take as big a bit as they could. You would literally have to grab them and pull them off, pulling a humongous chunk of flesh out of your neck. These ants would sacrifice themselves to get some food for the others. I have heard stories of guys jumping in the bushes to hide from gooks only to find they had landed on a red ant pile. What do you do in that case? Surrender or get eaten alive? Surrender? I never saw an American surrender and I never saw a woman surrender. I'm sure somewhere they might have but I never saw it. I carried two extra bullets in my flask jacket just incase I was about to get captured. One was for Moose and the other for me. Thank God I never had to put myself to that test. They had a Hanoi Hilton and now I hear they have a new one next to the old one. Maybe Jane is staying there. All the Americans I saw fought to the end either way. Winning or dieing and I'm still not sure who was the victor. The worst firefight I was ever in was against Americans. Another fine communication mistake. Lots of body counts and which side was the enemy? Oh hell, just count them all and say they were all the enemy and throw in that water buffalo and those pigs over there too. Two young kids sitting on a water buffalo right square in the middle of the firefight and someone trained them well. They just set there not moving or saying a word. If they had I'm sure they would have been killed. Who was it that said? "War is hell." Women you say? We didn't send women over there to fight. Yes, your right but they did and they were some of the best fighters I ever came across. Maybe that was mother instinct. When all was left but rocks and fingernails they came at us until the end. They took us out in big boats with big doors that dropped down and put us in some of the worst jungle you would ever want to see. It took an hour to go one click and the Colonel was up in his Loch directing us like a road reporter in some plane above. Often I was temped to pop a shot off at him. He was the guy who came down and landed after the firefight hopping to get shot at so someone would put him in for a CIB, combat infantryman's badge. I have one but "I don't need any sticken badges." We manage to get some distance along when we are called back to the boat just because some guy shot himself in the foot getting off the boat. This was one of the worst days with over thirty firefights and sniped at several dozen times in between. These guys never worked with dog before. Toft and I were working this one together when our dogs threw one of those "better get this one" alerts. We stop and call it but no one knows what to do. Give me the horn. I tell the CO, commanding officer, "we have an alert at our two o'clock position about two hundred meters." He asks me, "What should we do?" I give him several options. One, "pump some M-79 HE rounds in that area." "No," he says, "It will give away our position." As if they didn't know. "Send two or three men up there to scout out the area." "No," he says, "it will take too long. Just move out." I tell him we can't because we are calling an alert that needs to be honored. "Your people can go on if you want but we wont." And that is the way it happens. Sure enough they walked right into an ambush and another set of body bags were being shipped out. This went on well into the afternoon and when the next medivac arrived I went up and asked the pilot if he could take two dogs and handlers out. Back at the base camp we file an after action report and we see the colonel's helicopter leave and return with the captain we were just with. He keeps him at attention for two hours in the hot sun as some kind of punishment for not honoring our alerts. This really does no one any good because he now says he only has the dogs to keep the troops company. He never uses dogs again and Toft and I vowed never to work together again. And so it was. Another time when Moose and I are working with a recon team of five guys. We are hiding in the bush under a big tree when the gooks have us without warning. We all scatter and I fall under the brush. This Viet Cong damn near steps on me as he is shooting his weapon at the other fellows in their retreat. Soon all is quite and I rise up to see what and where. The gooks are dragging the bodies to one location. I lay and wait. I can hear them talking but do not understand what they are saying. It seems like several hours go by, maybe twenty minutes, and they set up for some lunch. I can smell the odor of something they are eating. I know this is my best time. They are close together and I stand up dumping clips into them as fast as I can. Six clips gone in a split second and I only needed half that amount to do the job but fear had me. Now no one is left, I'm alone in the bush, and my body won't stop shaking. I get a rocker, promoted to staff sergeant and short, not much time left to serve, at the same time. Those above me recognized a true leader of men and I was promoted to staff sergeant. Maybe I just lived longer then the rest. Believe me I was not the gunho type. I did my duty when called upon. I meet the enemy face first. I never welcomed going to the field but I never shirked it either. They made me a platoon sergeant and with all the new Army paper work I was learning about, it took me away from the men and the friendship we shared. The only thing that made it good is that I ran all the training missions with keeping interest up with the dogs and I got to put the fear of God in the new guys that came into our platoon. I knew they liked the training because I shared every bit of knowledge I had to keep them alive. I cared for them and they knew it. That was one of the hardest, the caring, early on you would get to know a new guy and the next day he would go out and get killed. Somewhere you would always keep a little guard up not to get too close. But these were my guys. The guys I lived with and went out into the field with. These were the men I trusted my life with and fought with to stay alive. The worst was when one of them did not make it. How low can you get and nobody can do a damn thing about it. "No sweat man. We can do it. Keep moven on." I'm setting on a hill at Alpha Four watching a group of Marines down in this valley shooting a mortar and the wind is catching the round and returning it inside their perimeter. They think they are being attached and keep firing more mortars rounds. Such a pathetic day. Rod McKuen said it best. "Brass belly men lying on cots dreaming of battles in Technicolor." I was at that meeting. I saw the faces with shit eating grins and glazed over eyes. Little men with choky hands. Not one good man let along a few. They could not hear when I said, "Follow Me." Charlie Company will sweep the ridge, Alpha Company will hold their ground, and Echo Company will support. Like watching a well trained bird dog working with no regard to the wind. And what about the men on the ground? One more month. Oh, God. One more month. A life time. I tend to forget the leaches, red ants, flies, and mosquitoes all trying to get a bite of me. And the weirdest bugs you've ever seen that are not from this planet. Sweat pouring down my face needing a bath because I haven't had one in a month. An itchy crouch and jungle rot on my feet. Not seeing any action in a month and then seeing the fellow next to me getting half his face blown away and finding out later that he lived. Remembering the faces of the men that I killed and now they all look the same. The naked bodies of Viet Cong women, that you had rather made love to then see get killed. The mistakes, and God we did make mistakes. The death of a friend that is only eighteen years old and his mother keeps writing me because she can't let go. A land that is out of scale and has nothing I want. These are some of the things that, maybe, I want to forget but can't. I wonder why I was there in the first place and why didn't I get killed?………………….. Maybe I did……………….. There was a time when I had got myself pinned down by two snipers in the trees. I had been working a couple hundred yards in front of this company scouting when a couple of AK-47 cracked and rounds were whizzing by me. This is what it sounds like. Say this out loud, as loud and fast as you can. "Get down get down get down get down get down………………." They had me. I had managed to jump behind a fallen tree but I was pinned. Couldn't move. My legs were all wet and I thought I must have got hit or wet my pants. Later I found the rounds were so close they were hitting my canteen. After what seemed an eternity a couple of Kit Carson Scouts from the company I was supporting came up and offered me a chance to get out of there. They got them. These are men who used to be Viet Cong and came over to our side. I have much respect for them. Precious moments, and there were some. Just being alive. Moose and I were with this platoon. The drill was to make yourself known in a area and at dusk start moving to an unknown position to try to conceal yourself in hopes the enemy will not know where you are so that you have the surprise element. We get set up in our ambush position and what appears to me is movement all night. Moose is flat out asleep and I can't get him up for anything. Then the next night I'm flat out because I had been up all the night before and Moose is up all night. We were working out of phase. I would tie his leash around my hand so that if any danger came my way he would wake me up with his lunge to protect me. It worked, not often did I get asked to pull guard duty. I think the guys were too afraid to approach me. The next day I'm way out in front of the guys, this is where I liked it the best because it is quieter and I have the element of surprise, one way or the other, when I come across a pineapple, ripe, and ready. God sent. Of course I took a break. Warm pineapple. To this day when I have pineapple I think of this moment. Now I also think of the Gook that must have been babying it and thinking about the time he was going to have it. Sorry fellow and thanks for growing it. I will return the favor when I see you next. Sorry I didn't think of that at that time. Next time. Moose and I are walking along this rice patty at the edge of the jungle with a company of men behind us, when a Viet Cong makes himself visible. He approaches me with his hands up, saying something in Vietnamese that I don't understand. Our interpreter comes up and tells me he is surrendering to you because of your dog. "Why is that?" I ask. He tells me this is the year of the dog. I don't understand but then he tells me they have a bounty on all dogs and handlers. Great, just what I wanted to hear. A trip to Saigon with Geller and we decide to take advantage of the black market. The cab drivers would offer you a woman for the evening if you will buy them a two hundred dollar money order from the bank. If you agree they will take you to pick out a girl that you will be staying with and off to the closest bank. She will give you the money to buy the money order. When you inter the bank go up to the guard and ask him if he would like to make a hundred dollars. All he has to do is open up the back door and out you go. We would do this several times very quickly and leave town for a few months. Always make sure you never get the same cab driver twice. That could be hazardous to you health. They in turn would take the money order and use it to buy weapons to support the war. Not for our side. Seemed like a good way to make a couple hundred dollars. The good times are far and few, making fun of Jiminy Cricket. We had a mean dog in our platoon named Blacky. Blacky didn't like anyone except his handler and no one liked looking after Blacky when his handler wasn't around. I remember we just got a new, ninety day wonder, commanding officer and everyone told him several times not to go into Blacky's pin but he did and sure enough Blacky got a hold of him and ripped his pants off. I wish you could have seen his face. If you were to tell me that dog was dangerous I would believe you. Makes you wonder doesn't it? The drugs and beer to help shut down the brain. All I can think about is going home, cheeseburgers, and the girl that I left behind. She wasn't waiting for me. All the letters we wrote and the plans. Now she's with someone else and she tells me he treats her right. I didn't even get a chance. I find myself getting bitter about that one year out of my life. No sweat. I try to go to school but the kids are now too young or am I too old. I have no concentration and do not care about grades. I had all the medals. So many in fact they couldn't even get them all on my DD-214 form. The one that stands out the most is an Army Commendation Medal I got for volunteering for a dangerous mission. Let me tell you about that. I was supposed to go on some assault mission so Moose and I went to this landing zone and slept for four days waiting for a mission that never happened. Volunteer? Not on your life. My commanding officer sent me there. For this they gave me a medal. The other things I did and the lives I saved didn't mean anything to them, but I know, least I never heard of it or got scolded for some action I thought was beyond the call of duty. The medals kept coming in. Some Oak Leaf, Second Cluster this and that and yes, they were deserved but it didn't buy me a cup of coffee. I know, we all said that. I still have the orders somewhere around here in a cardboard box. No one has ever asked to see them and I don't know why I keep them around. Maybe some time before I die I'll frame them and hang them on the wall. I sort of doubt it. They will just end up in some land fill where they belong. Scout Dog. Infantry Intelligence Operational Specialist. Early silent warning. Nice words for 'Point man'. And I had some speech on a three by five card that I was supposed to read to the commanding officer when I got to the field. That was something the new guys did and everyone knew he was the new guy. Look out. It was like the card I carried that stated the Geneva Convention rules that no one adhered to. Just more nice words. To kill, to die for, and to torcher. For what? I have been 'humping the bush' for a long time looking for a safe place. Some explanation and it is not what you think. Ground pounding, a long hard walk. I can find it in my work or whatever I am doing. Keep the mind busy and smoke another cigarette to cut the pain. Thirty-some years of blowing pain up in smoke. Just to see my breath is to know that I am alive but I cannot feel anything and this is what is killing me. Now I can feel my heart pounding and the adrenalin is flowing through my body just thinking about it and putting it down so you can read it. There is no safe place here. I cannot offer you security. I want to but I am only human, and I know it doesn't exist. There is one place for me. Gentle banking turns and self made slalom courses in valleys of white puffy cotton and green crevices touching the blue sky. There is no place like it on the earth for it is not of the earth. I have finally found a piece of heaven and if this is as good as it gets I will have known a slice of freedom. That will be enough for it is another story somewhere along the way. There are many more stories but I am getting numb to them trying to hold back the tears as too many of my tears have fallen over the years. I pray man will learn from his experiences of past wars and never repeat them but I see these prayers are not answered. I am grateful that I live in a country that I have some control of my life within some means. I can turn off the television and forget that man is of a warring nature. I am now a pleasure and knowledge seeker and as long as no one gets hurt I will do what I can to have fun. This is what life is all about. Put a smile on your face and look at me for I too will have a smile. I will and do pray for you. "Goodbye my friend," and again, "Goodbye." Slowly I turn and say, "Goodbye Moose, I'll miss you". 1969 Dong Tam 70 miles South of Saigon Moose and I were attached to the Ninth Infantry Division, the farthest Americans unit in the south, working assault and reconnaissance missions until that division went to Hawaii in 1969. We were then attached to the Fifth Infantry Division, the farthest American unit in the north, performing night ambushes, daylight patrol, search and clear, rocket suppression, and reconnaissance. Moose remained in Viet Nam serving this country until his death in 1975. The medals are for him for he is the one that deserved them. I am sure the other men that worked with Moose got just as many if not more. Truly mans best friend. I did try to get Moose out of the Army and go home with me. I wrote all commanding officers, senators, and congressmen that I could get addresses for. The best answer I got was that if the dog bit someone in the civilian world the Army could be held liable. Also there was a disease that some tracker dogs brought to Viet Nam from Malaysia called IHS, Hemophilia like disease. A highly contagious bleeding diseases that all the dogs that I know of got over there. Most lived through it but some died from it also. I know this is the hardest truth of all but you wouldn't want this in this country. There might be some treatment for it now but at that time there wasn't much we knew about that disease. This is only a small part of my story in Viet Nam. After thirty years I am still trying to heal myself from that one year out of my life and maybe by writing about it and sharing it with you I can free myself from the memories and demons that haunt me today. I pray for peace as I return to a center balance in my life trying to restore some meaning and purpose as it was before that time in Viet Nam. I have always said it has been down hill since that time and nothing could get worse. Maybe just living with it. Connie, Thank you for welcoming me home after all these years you are the first. I really needed to hear that. Thanks again, Eric Return To Top 14. Bill Wigginton 12/71-12/72 williamrebecca@bellsouth.net Trust By Bill Wigginton In the beginning, we were wary of each other. I didn’t know you and you didn’t know me. I was even a little bit scared of you, and I didn’t know if you would be mean or kind to me. Your kind is so unpredictable. But as we got to know each other, I learned to trust you, honor you, respect you, obey you and even love you. As well as I can understand it; my sole purpose in life is to give you comfort and to please you. It’s what I live for. I’ll never ask for much in return from you. All I need is the basics that any of my brothers and sisters ask for. Just a warm, dry place to sleep, food and water for my growing body, love for my soul, lots of encouragement for my mind and ego, and a best friend when I need one, for even I have my melancholy moments when I’m sad, lonely, frightened, scared or confused. You make me feel whole when you love me. In return for giving me the basics that anyone could ask for, I will give you more kisses, affection and love than you can handle. I will protect you and gladly give my life so that you may live. I will warn you when there is danger, and be there whenever you need a best friend to talk to. I may not be able to speak your language, but I will let you know how I feel in many other ways. I will give you joy when you are sad, a friend when you are lonely, and laughs when you need them, warmth on cold nights. I will do funny things and tricks to keep you amused and to pass the time. I will obey your every command and wish for you are also my best friend. I know that there are times when I will act bad and do something that you do not approve of. All I ask is that you let me know I've done wrong, and be gentle with me, and I’ll try and not let it happen again. I can’t help that I make mistakes, but please don’t yell at me, or ever hit me. Best friends don’t do that to each other. I want you to respect and love me as much as I respect and love you. We have a bond, you and I that should never be broken. Our love for each other will endure long past the time when I am old and broken, and I must leave you. You are my life, my heart and my soul. You are my everything, and I depend on you for so much. Without you, I am lost, I am sad, I am confused, and I am worth nothing. I live for you to love me, tell me words of encouragement, play with me, and give me walks and exercise. I love for you to teach me new tricks, and I even love to teach you a few. The moments that you are away from me are like hours, and the hours like days. Even if you are away from me for only a few minutes, it seems like an eternity to me. That is why I am so happy to see you whenever you come back to me. You and I have given each other the most precious gifts that anyone could give each other. We have given each other our trust, and have exchanged the responsibility for each other’s lives. I always want your trust, and will do anything to keep it. I hope and pray that I will always have yours! And one day when I am gone from this world, I will wait for you in heaven. You will recognize me right off, I will be the one who is smiling and wagging my tail with excitement. I am your loyal dog, and will always be your best friend. This is from the bottom of my heart and soul and dedicated to all the Military Working Dogs and their handlers who were in Vietnam and Thailand during the Vietnam War. Over 260 Military Working Dog Handlers and over 500 Military Working Dogs were killed during that war, and it’s been estimated that all the Handlers and their Dogs actions saved over 10,000 additional deaths and who knows how many causalities. When the war ended, a little over 200 dogs made it out. The other over 3,800 dogs in Vietnam and Thailand were put to sleep. They were veterans, warriors, soldiers and our brothers/sisters and best friends. They deserved to have been brought back home too to a hero’s welcome. They did not deserve their fate. USAF/USN Retired/Disabled 388th SPS K-9; Korat RTAFB, Dec71 to Dec 72; War Dog Sarge 617X and Blackie X850 Member Vietnam Dog Handlers Association Member Vietnam Security Police Association Member National War Dog Team Memorial Committee Thank You Return To Top 15. Wayne McLeister 3/66-5/67 US Army Ceasar wmcleister@juno.com "C E A S A R" of the 39th Scout Dog Platoon "Get showered and get your gear ready, you're going back out!" We were both tired. We had been in the bush for nearly two weeks and I could tell that it had taken its toll on Ceasar. He had lost a lot of blood from the leeches, the "wait-a-minute" vines, and the cuts on his feet. His normally huge frame looked small, his black and silver coat layered in mud and blood. Damn it, I thought to myself, there were people in camp that had been there when we left two weeks before. Oh well………….war must be truly HELL! From the very beginning there was something strange about this mission. Had I had known what was about to happen, I would have done more than yelled at the two handlers that were laughing when we departed. This time we loaded onto Chanooks, not the Huey's that he was so fond of riding. We traveled for what seemed two hours and once on the ground, the patrol was immediately plagued by two and three inch, black hornets (wasps). A large tree lay in our path. Broken in half, it appeared to have rotted and then fallen over. Ceasar continued working past the tree, then me. As I passed, the sky and everything around me turned black. Suddenly there were thousands of wasps swarming from the broken tree. I saw Ceasar (for the last time), covered with wasps, rolling on the ground, moaning in pain, trying desperately to rid himself of the stinging insects. I began to run, trying to reach him. The wasps had completely covered me. Stinging thru my clothing, under my helmet, I pulled large patches of skin and hair from my head, then, a blank………………….. The next thing I remember is being aboard an aircraft to San Antonio, for treatment. Return To Top 16. Stephen Terry 3/70-3/71 US Army Sargeant 25X1 mayaca4@yahoo.com We were attached to a small Sentry Dog detachment in Vinh Long that was composed of approximately a dozen dogs and handlers, a Vet Tech to treat and feed the dogs and an E-6 who was the unit supervisor. Our primary function was to provide flight line protection for two Air Cav units on areas of the perimeter that we were most likely to be attacked. We also had two interior posts, the ammunition dump and the beer and soda yard. We were required to guard the beer and soda yard to keep our own troops away from the supplies! It was the only post where we carried a gas mask in case the GI's tried to gas us so they could get to the beer. I had the beer and soda yard one night and watching over area when a duece and a half truck began to back up very near to where I was standing. My dog had been trained by a previous handler to alert on vehicles, so he did not like any vehicle that was running. Sargeant lunged toward the vehicle at the same time I was trying to pull him away from the truck and the result was that he pulled the leash off my arm and began chasing the truck through the compound. You have to understand that this is a German Sheppard that has been trained for attack and it is now running through the compound at around midnight in hot pursuit of a truck that has no idea it is being attached! Sargeant managed to get out in front of the truck dragging the leash about one foot from the front tire of the truck while I chased the truck and dog from the rear. As the truck moved through the compound it drove through a group of GI's that had just come out of one building and were crossing the road to another...and there was Sargeant in the middle of them all. Needless to say, I was certain that he would stop chasing the truck and go after one of the GI's, but true to his training he continued to chase the object that had first attracted his attention. I was finally able to catch him and get him back under control and return to my post for the remainder of the night. Several days later the Sergeant found out through the grapevine that one of his handlers and dogs had been seen running through the compound a few days previously, but he was never able to lock down a night so that he could find out who it was. He would have made my life miserable had he found out it was me and Sarge! Thank you for remembering my brothers, and for keeping alive the memory of these wonderful dogs. Return To Top