Navy SEAL Dogs (22 page)

Before he put the vest on Kwinto, his handler did another kind of check, as he did before and after every mission. Though in the mind and heart of a handler a dog is not a piece of equipment, he does pay the same kind attention to the dog's operational functionality as he would with a weapon or a vehicle. He maintains that functionality, too. Basically, all this means the handler makes sure the dog is physically ready to go.

Kwinto's handler ran his hands along the dog's body, checking for any sign of cysts, knots, open sores, or any other kind of irregularity. He paid particular attention to Kwinto's joints, especially his elbows and shoulders, checking for any signs of wear and tear. A dog's rear legs, especially powerful ones like Kwinto's, put a lot of pressure on the knee. Their quadriceps muscles are especially well developed, but unlike humans, who have fairly well developed calves to establish some kind of muscular balance, from the bottom of the kneecap to the paw, dogs have little muscle. The handler also examined Kwinto's paws, making sure that he didn't have any cracked nails and that all his pads were in good condition. The carpal pads, the ones highest up on the dog's foreleg, are especially important since they rarely make contact with the ground and don't develop the same kind of callous-type hardness as the rest of the pads; they are mostly used when negotiating very steep slopes. Kwinto showed no signs at all of any discomfort.

As they waited that night to begin the raid, Kwinto paced briefly before settling down at his handler's feet. He sat wide-eyed, watching, and waiting. This was, of course, not Kwinto's first time on an operation like this. He had earned some distinction with another SEAL team on a previous deployment. Under similar circumstances, he'd led a nighttime raid when his handler noticed him responding to human odor and released him. Kwinto proceeded to charge through an area of heavy foliage. Two enemy soldiers, who had been secreted in a grape-field trench, began moving toward a position where fifteen other SEAL team members were. They were carrying AK-47s and were likely about to ambush the SEALs. The handler immediately engaged the first armed enemy from a range of approximately 3 feet and then the second from another 10 feet. Both were killed. Throughout that engagement, the handler was in verbal contact with both his dog and his fellow team members. Afterward, a fuller investigation revealed that the Taliban members' weapons were off safety and that the men were carrying two-way radios. Prior to this raid, the SEAL team had already apprehended more than a dozen suspected Taliban members, as they were infiltrating the area via motorcycles. Kwinto and that SEAL team had clearly been very busy.

The members of Kwinto's team probably couldn't add enough thanks to the dog for the role he played in Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan. In my mind, all these men and dogs are heroes; it's just that some of them like tennis balls more than others.

 

PART IV

GIVING BACK AND MOVING FORWARD

 

17

CARLOS AND ARKO AT EASE

I step outside the house and I can immediately feel it—it's like I've taken my clothes directly from the dryer and put them on. Out here, the heat is like a living, breathing thing that envelops you like some kind of constrictor. Somebody once pointed out to me that maybe I chose this spot to set up operations because it reminded me of what it was like when I was downrange. Another person jokingly suggested that maybe one of the side effects of valley fever was a desire to feel like you have a fever all the time. Could be a little of both, but who knows?

I open the door to the kennel and feel instant relief from the blast of cool air. The dogs are all up; some of them just lie there eyeing me, while others do their morning yoga, and a few others sound off though there's been no reveille. It's the usual morning routine of kennel care, and I don't mind a bit. I've got a couple of new prospects that have only been with me for a few weeks, and five dogs in the middle of their training cycle. The two new guys won't be going out this morning, but after they've been fed their kibble, I'll take them out of their crate and do some basic work with them.

One of them, an 80-pound Dutch Shepherd named Nero, seems to be having some adjustment issues. He's been difficult to crate up, likely because his original owner and trainer hadn't taken the time to establish positive associations with being in there. He may have been forced into his crate a lot of the time after he'd been corrected for doing something wrong. He's a young guy, just over two years old, and he wants nothing more than to be out and about. I put him on a lead, show him one of the two tennis balls I've got with me, and head out onto my property. I don't do anything too vigorous with him; he needs to digest, just get used to me being with him, handling him. At various points when I let him chase after a few balls, I give him a nice cold drink, making sure to interrupt his gulping it down by taking the bowl away, putting it out of reach in the back of the dog trailer, and then returning it to him. He seems to be getting the message that all good things come from me, that I am his friend.

Just as I'm about done with the two green dogs, my friend Wayne, the incredible trainer, shows up. We find a bit of shade and go over the plan for the day, cursing out the meteorologist who forecast the cooling trend that was supposed to have begun two days ago. When it's time to go to work, Wayne and I head over to the kennel. While he loads up the dogs, I wander down to check in on the other two dogs, my pair of retirees. They've been fed and walked to do their business this morning, but when they see me coming toward them, they're both immediately at attention, eager and hopeful.

“Arko. Carlos. Mornin', fellas, but I've got nothing for you yet. Sorry,” I tell them.

Given the demands on my business to provide more dogs to the U.S. government and other customers, these two will have to sit it out today. I have no nighttime exercises planned, so they'll get their time outside later this evening. I feel a bit bad about that. They see the other dogs getting geared up, and after years of active duty, they still want to be going at it despite what they've each been through. I'd like to say that they are a part of some master plan that I developed as I was planning my exit strategy from the navy. I knew that I wanted to work with dogs and do the kind of training I'm doing, but the Arko-and-Carlos factor is something that just kind of evolved. In a lot of ways, the additional responsibility that I've taken on of helping retired SOF dogs find good home placements feels a lot less like work and more like some kind of blessing. You know, most of us who “rescue” dogs feel at first like we're doing something to give a dog a better life. In most cases, and this is certainly true in mine, it's the other way around. The dogs give us a better life.

Given all my ties in the SOF canine community, I suppose it made sense that when these two dogs had ended their stints serving I was contacted. I was told that these were two dogs whose temperaments and characters were such that even being placed with their handlers or in any other more traditional “adoption” scenarios wasn't exactly feasible. They were also not going to be suited for placement and continued work in law enforcement or with another agency. The one option they'd have would be to continue to live at their present location, with the other dogs that are a part of the unit they came from. Given how a team's canines work, that would mean they'd be in their familiar place, but because the priority is on operational dogs, they wouldn't get much attention.

That's not to say that their lives would be miserable or that they'd be neglected if they remained at their location. Quite the opposite is true. They'd receive great medical care and adequate food and attention, but they would likely not be able to get the kind of regular exercise and occasional training that they were used to. It's a testament to the regard in which these dogs were held that those in charge wanted something better for them. They believed that I could provide that added bit of care for these two dogs that had both served with distinction. I had to think about it, and originally the question was whether I would personally take charge of the dogs or facilitate them being placed elsewhere, perhaps with other trainers.

This was a head-versus-heart decision, really. I run a business that supplies dogs to people and agencies that need highly skilled canines. To take on the care of two dogs that would do nothing but be a debit on the cash flow wouldn't be the wisest thing to do from an economic standpoint. To be honest, though, I didn't think about it for very long. The SOF community means so much to me, and dogs mean so much to me, that I told them that I would be honored to take Carlos and Arko. I'd also do anything I could to help with any other dogs down the line that needed placement. Even though these dogs were considered to be government property, once they were released to me, I received nothing monetary in return. I don't care about that at all, because as I said earlier, I am one of those people who is determined to give a dog the best life possible.

Yes, MWDs are technically considered to be government “property.” They are accounted for in the same way that a piece of equipment is, as a line item on a budget sheet. Broadly speaking, a dog is not a SEAL team member. There is, however, a movement among military and other canine advocates to eliminate the designation of dogs as “property” and to treat them, not in the same manner as humans, but in a manner that better fits with what they do for us and for the country. Certainly progress has been made in this direction. The dogs are treated by the military as counterparts to their handlers. They get medevaced when wounded on the field; they receive rehabilitation for their injuries, and medals and ribbons for their performance and bravery. There are even memorials for those dogs that have been killed in action. An earnest effort is made, to find retirees, like Carlos and Arko, the best life for the rest of their days.

*   *   *

Along with the dogs, I received release of liability papers, their medical records, and their service records. I fully understood the need for those release papers. Given the temperament of these dogs, there is the potential for them to bite me or someone else. The Department of Defense can't be held responsible for that. So these dogs no longer belong to the U.S. government. They are mine.

I was surprised and impressed, however, when I read the dogs' service records and discovered just how honorably these two had served. Having learned their stories, I am proud to have them at my place.

On a raid, Carlos and his handler were the unfortunate victims of an IED that went undetected. In the middle of an intense firefight, they approached an entryway where a bunch of munitions were cached. Enemy combatants hastily detonated the IED, and the resulting explosion severely injured both the handler and the dog and leveled that entryway. The force of the blast collapsed Carlos's lungs and sinuses and threw him several feet, which resulted in his breaking both his back legs and his hips. When the other members of the team rushed up to assist the fallen handler, despite his own serious injuries, Carlos managed to crawl over to his handler and guard him. It took some time for the rest of the team to calm Carlos down. All the dog knew was that his buddy was hurt and he was going to make sure that nobody else did any damage to him. That's the kind of courage and loyalty these dogs so frequently exhibit.

Carlos and his handler were medevaced out of that area of operation, and I'm pleased to say that they both fully recovered. Carlos healed so well that he eventually returned to operation status and was even deployed again before being retired at age seven.

Arko also served in multiple deployments and was injured during one raid. He was sent in to apprehend a bad guy and was shot in the chest at point-blank range. Despite being shot, he got a good bite on the man and didn't come off of it until his handler approached and gave him the command. The enemy was apprehended, and Arko was flown to an FOB where he underwent surgery and recovered fully. He, too, returned to action. Like Carlos, he was retired at the age of seven, and to be honest, when I saw him when he was delivered to me, I was a little surprised that decision had been made. He'd done more than his share of work, but when he came out of that crate, he was all business.

His nostrils flaring, his scorpion tail flagging, his proud, erect gait chewing up yards at a time, Arko is a template for the ideal Malinois in nearly every way. Carlos was much the same, but in the time I've had him, he's slowed just a bit. It's clear that those injuries to his legs, hips, and spine make him uncomfortable when he's been lying still for a while. He's somewhat slower to get up than he used to be.

I notice things like that when I release both him and Arko, but I imagine that almost everyone else would think they are perfectly healthy. When I approach them both, they still have that keen-eyed intelligence that I just admire so much. The drive these dogs have to work and be purposeful never goes away. They may not be protecting a fallen comrade or staying in a bite when seriously wounded, but these dogs still want to work, still want to be of service. It's because of Arko and Carlos, and the other six retirees that I've placed with others, that I created the Warrior Dog Foundation. It's a nonprofit organization that meets a need that I saw wasn't being met anyplace else.

Because these SOF dogs have such specific characteristics and training, the other MWD organizations and foundations that place retired dogs wouldn't be able to meet their needs. Only someone who has experience and expertise working as a trainer of these kinds of dogs can successfully bridge the gap between their active duty and retired lives.

Every time I go out with Arko and Carlos, whether it's for a bit of ball play on my property or on a training exercise with them somewhere in the surrounding area, I'm reminded of the countless lives that these two dogs, the other dogs whose stories I've shared, and the other dogs whose heroism we don't yet know about have saved. As much as I'm committed to providing the best for them in the years they have left, I'm also deeply hopeful that our military will learn from some of what I see as mistakes of the past. It's my hope that we won't dismantle the kinds of programs that the SOF community has built when we exit the battlefield. Maybe we need to create a network of dogs that act as reservists, dogs that serve in one capacity in the civilian world during peacetime but can be called up again at a moment's notice to serve in an operational environment wherever in the world they are needed. That could be one way for us to remain vigilant and prepared.