It was the end of July 1969 when I arrived at U-Tapao. The heat rushed up to greet me, as I disembarked the final aircraft (C-130, I think it was) that had brought me to this strange land. My ears were filled with the deafening sounds of the B-52 (bombers) and the KC-135 (tankers) as their engines were revving, something I would have to live with day and night for the next 12 months. Though, that sound was nothing new to me, since I had always been stationed where the 52's were because I was in the Strategic Air Command (SAC). But, now I was going to have to listen to that sound (off and on) 24 hours a day, for a full year, where as, it had only been intermittent at my previous base. But, now here I was at a base whose 52's were apparently making bombing runs all through the day and night.
My thoughts immediately turned to how difficult it was going to be, to perform Sentry duty, with the dog I would soon be assigned, under such noisy conditions. It would be nearly or virtually impossible for me to hear any movement or activity, even within 50 ft., and the dog's hearing would be severely limited as well. But, we were always taught that a dog could hear 20 times better than a human. However, under these conditions I knew that both the dog and me would not be at our greatest effectiveness (hearing wise) and that troubled me. Therefore, I surmised that I was going to have to forget about depending upon the dog's keen sense of hearing and rely upon his sense of sight and smell. We were taught that a dog could see 10 times better than a human as far as movement goes and that he could smell 40 times better.
Along with the above thoughts racing through my mind, in came another. That, here I was at, "One of, if not, The Prime Target(s) of the enemy in all Southeast Asia." Since, (to the best of my knowledge) most of the bombing runs upon Vietnam were made by the B-52's from U-Tapao. It was a sobering thought and I did not take it lightly. Therefore, I reasoned that, "If I am going to have to be out on the perimeter, pulling Sentry duty with my dog, as first line of defense (in other words, a sitting duck or fish in a bowl), I wanted, one mean bad ass dog. So that, if I got picked off/blown away, that hopefully my dog would get the guy that nailed me.
While the above thought was underway, I was greeted by a Master Sgt. from the 635 SPS and a Buck Sgt. from the Sentry Dog Facility. We exchanged pleasantries and then I immediately said to the Sgt. from the Sentry Dog Facility, "I hope you have one mean, bad ass dog for me." He said, "Got one for you, he bit his last handler in the ass 12 times." Well, that was not the type of "bad ass dog" I had in mind, I did not want a dog that was "bad" on the ass of his handler, just one with a bad attitude toward hostile forces.
The story of Smokey (the bad ass dog), my first dog at U-Tapao, before I got my beloved dog, PISTOL.
