No Buddy Left Behind: Bringing U.S. Troops' Dogs and Cats Safely Home From the Combat Zone (11 page)

Eddie wrote to me after he and Charlie had settled in for a few days. I had been as eager to hear about Eddie and Charlie as a mother who misses her children when they go off to summer camp, and though she's glad her kids were able to go, she needs to know how they're doing.

Relief flooded over me when Eddie's words confirmed that everything I'd worked for had been worth it:

Coming back from war isn't easy for anyone. In many ways it's as strange as going to war in the first place. But when the dog that smelled fear on your body after you returned from an ambush, and made you laugh when you were war-weary and fed up, comes home with you, it makes a big difference. He knows where you've been and what you've seen. He understands like no one else could. That feeling is too big to put into words.

Charlie earned his place in our unit. All of us just wanted him to be safe and not to think we'd left him behind. Thanks to you, Terri, and SPCA International, this soldier's buddy came home.

Charlie tries to get the hang of baseball. Terri Crisp

K-Pot on play duty Matt McDonough

uring the six-week wait for SGT Eddie Watson's unit to redeploy, I had hoped to spend much of my time with Charlie, but that was not what fate intended. Three days after Charlie and I arrived in the States together, I received an e-mail that gripped my heart.

To: Terri Crisp, SPCA International

From: Danielle Berger, New Jersey

Dear Terri,

I've been following the news about Operation Baghdad Pups bringing Sergeant Eddie Watson's dog to the States. My brother has been desperately seeking a way to get the puppy his unit rescued out of Iraq. I can't stress enough how crucial K-Pot's safety is to my brother's well-being.

Matt and I always had a close relationship, and after he joined the Army and became a combat medic, we continued to correspond regularly. As soon as Matt learned he was going to Iraq, though, he distanced himself from me and the rest of our family. Considering what he was facing, it didn't surprise us.

Matt is now stationed in northern Iraq, where heavy insurgent activity is a daily occurrence, and some of the highest casualties have been recorded, so we weren't surprised that the few e-mails he sent were brief, detached, and usually weeks apart. Every day Matt was administering to the bodies of shattered soldiers, often while under fire himself.

Each time I stopped for a moment, I was thinking, what is Matt doing now? Is he okay? Is he even alive? Being almost completely cut off from my brother, I found sleep impossible. Unless people have a loved one serving overseas, they have no idea how hard it is for families back at home.

In August things suddenly changed. It all began with Matt's e-mail saying, "You won't believe what we just did. My unit rescued a puppy. We're still cleaning up after an insurgent attack; I'll write again later."

I received more e-mails from Matt over the next few days than I'd had since he joined the Army. Talk about the crack in the dam; once he began writing about this puppy, he wrote about everything else as well. Immediately the tone of his letters sounded more upbeat, and the wall of silence that war had put between us began to crumble.

Using the webcam, I was able to meet some of the soldiers in Matt's platoon and see K-Pot and another puppy they rescued, named "Liberty." The guys gathered around sharing stories of the puppies' antics. I can't tell you how wonderful it was to hear Matt's laughter again and to meet his military buddies. It's like my family suddenly grew a lot bigger.

Before K-Pot came into Matt's life, I worried for my brother's sanity as well as his physical safety. But now he has something other than war to consume his thoughts. K-Pot found the weak spot in Matt's soldier-toughened armor, and it's this crack that allows the horrors to drain out while laughter and warmth flow in.

After a few months, one of the military veterinarians responsible for the care of bomb-sniffer dogs, made it possible for Matt's unit to keep K-Pot and Liberty. He got the dogs registered as "force protection canines," but unfortunately the status that protects them from the military's no pets rule also declares them as Army property and, therefore, expendable equipment. K-Pot and Liberty will have to be euthanized when the soldiers leave.

Today Matt e-mailed me saying that his platoon just received orders to report to a fire base and the dogs can't go. Unless Operation Baghdad Pups can transport K-Pot and Liberty to the States before his platoon moves out, these life-saving dogs will die. I hate to think what it will do to my brother and the other soldiers if two members of their close-knit family are destroyed by the same country they have risked life and limbs for.

I am pasting below some excerpts from Matt's e-mails, so you can read, in his own words, how important this little dog is.

Before I moved on to reading Matt's e-mails, I had to sit for a moment. I remembered the troops at Baghdad International Airport marching out of the C-17 transport plane, and I tried to imagine how I'd feel if one of them were my brother. What if he, like Matt, were going to a combat zone where so many had died? Danielle's description of her brother's day-to-day life brought the reality of war into vivid perspective, and a chill ran down my spine. I noticed that Matt's first e-mail had been sent in August 2007.

To: Danielle Berger, New Jersey

From: Matt "Doc" McDonough, Combat Medic, Iraq

Sorry it took me so long to get back to you again. It's been balls to the walls ever since I sent you that flash about the puppy, but things are quiet now, so I can finally tell you our latest story from the sandpit.

We were under mortar fire during a night skirmish, and flashes from exploding shells made it hard to see. Some of the men and I heard the screams, but we couldn't tell who they were coming from, only that the cries of pain and terror were from something small. It probably wasn't a good idea to investigate while rounds were falling, but I was the closest and was just as likely to take a hit wherever I was. The cries led me to a heap of razor wire, where a bleeding puppy had gotten himself tangled up. When I realized it was a dog, I tried to ignore it, knowing if I pulled him out, I'd be tempted to keep him.

You can't afford to get attached to pets when you're in combat. They're a distraction, and distractions get you killed out here. But those screams were louder in our heads than all the firing around us, so we gave up and went back to get him. Once we got him untangled, one of the men slipped him inside his flak jacket, took him to a place where he'd be safer, and then we hightailed it back to the rest of the unit.

When the enemy decided to quit shooting and go to bed, we checked the area, and found the little mutt where we'd left him. He was so young, his eyes had only just opened. He didn't respond to us at first, so I thought he was dead. Then he moved. Dehydrated and covered in cuts from the razor wire, he didn't look like he had much of a chance. We couldn't leave a wounded puppy like that, so, being the medic, I took him back to the aid station, dealt with the lacerations, and got some liquids down him.

Our fire base is situated in a beat-up ruin of a house that overlooks a river valley. Without doors that close, there's no way to keep the puppy inside, and he's so small, he fits through just about any opening he can find. I figured he'd wander off, especially since the enemy is always taking potshots at us. But I guess with all the warm bodies and free food, he decided to stick around.

Every time a skirmish is over, the guys wander around calling, "Anybody seen the puppy?" A minute later someone shouts, "Found him!" A few times we located him curled up in a soldier's Kevlar helmet with all the soft padding. We call them "K-Pots." It wasn't long before the name stuck to the puppy as well. So that's what I wanted to tell you. You've got a new nephew named "K-Pot."

Matt's story made me laugh. I couldn't help but feel delighted for the soldiers who had this new puppy in their lives. The next excerpt was dated a week later.

K-Pot is the most tuckered-out puppy I've ever seen! Guard rotation is every six hours. When men come off duty, they want to play with him. You could say he has been commissioned for aroundthe-clock play duty. When he gets too tired to hold his head up, K-Pot hides under the blankets in the aid station where I sleep.

In the two months before K-Pot came, we suffered heavy losses and injuries. When your teams are taking hits and you see your buddy going home in a box, it's hard to keep your mind from going to a real dark place. Since the puppy came, we've had something else to think about.

These are some of the toughest guys you'll meet in your life. Friends are dying all around them, and they're still rock solid. But put a puppy in front of them, and they turn into little kids, playing chase and going out of their way to make sure he's fed and taken care of. Someone's always asking me, "Can I play with K-Pot? Can I give him a bath?"