Fama, the AHBD (26 & 27)

Episode 26

We spent the next 3 days preparing for our trip to the FOB where my unit was located. Fama got one last Vet check-up which went well. I had to pack the mountain of gear I had brought with me, plus all the equipment, supplies and food Fama was going to require. Kyle and Alex had been validated as well, so the three of us were leaving Bagram together, stopping by Jalalabad on our way to our separate FOBs so we could drop our dog’s medical records off at the Vet that would be supporting us for the duration of our deployment.

The anticipation of the unknown was palpable. The pressure of passing the test was over, but it was replaced by the reality of looking for real bombs in the real world, where bad guys were going to be trying to kill us. The trainers had spent the past 3 1/2 months drilling into us just how dangerous our job was, and common sense definitely agreed with every word they said, but it was different now. The days of getting a second chance when you missed something were over. I laid in my bed for the last time, swimming in a sea of “What If?” I was about to walk down the road with a big “Follow Me” sign on my back. The lives of the soldiers behind me, my brothers whom I had laughed, cried, sweat and bled with, were my responsibility. What if?

I prayed that if anything ever happened, and someone was injured or killed, that it was me and not anyone else. I didn’t know how I could ever live with one of my brothers paying the price for my mistake. How could I face their mother, their wife, their children, and tell them that the person they loved the most had lost his life because I failed them. Fama was laying on the bed next to me, and I tried to come up with the words. I looked into her eyes and tried to tell her that her husband was dead because I wasn’t good enough. I struggled to get the words around the lump in my throat that would help her understand that I wished it was me instead.

Looking into her eyes, I realized that she had never volunteered for any of this. She was born and raised in Holland for just this purpose. Every moment in her life was dedicated to being in bad places, fighting bad men. Fama was only here for one reason, and she couldn’t understand that playing “Let’s Find the Bomb” could get her killed. Her naivety saddened me. I couldn’t help but picture her indicating on an IED along some random Afghan road, and suddenly getting blown into pink mist, not even knowing she was in danger. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to banish the image, but it kept coming back. Fama reached over and licked the tears off my face.

Episode 27

Luchian hauled us to the terminal in proper Military fashion, 6 hours before our plane was scheduled to take off. We placed all our gear on the familiar Air Force pallets and sequestered ourselves in a little corner of a fenced off area outside the building, sitting on the ground with our dogs at our sides. There was a steady supply of foot traffic around the terminal and the presence of 3 working dogs was drawing the animal lovers like moths to the flame. You could see their path of travel change so they would pass as close as possible to the dogs. I had Fama in her muzzle, just in case.

She was eying the passing soldiers with interest and disdain, but she remained calm. Every officer that passed would ask if they could pet the dogs.

We simply said “No Ma’am, they are working dogs, not pets,” or “Sorry, they are not friendly.”

The officers seemed to think that their rank protected them from the dogs. Some of them would just keep walking, saying something like, “It’s OK, dogs like me,” or “She looks so friendly.” Or my personal favorite, “It’s OK Sergeant, I have a German Shepherd at home.”

We would often have to get defensive with them to keep them away from the dogs. Some would even get upset about it, or try and sneak up while we weren’t looking to get a quick pet in, as if to prove us wrong. I was lucky Fama had her muzzle on. One particularly crafty female Captain waited until I was having a laugh with Alex, facing away from Fama, to make her move. She made it inside the stranger circle and Fama made her move, jumping with all her might, muzzle poised like a battering ram, aimed at the Captain’s chest. I had her leash double wrapped around my right hand, and thankfully, Fama had trained me well. At the smallest amount of pressure, my arm reacted automatically, jerking her back, sprawling across my legs in a flailing heap.

I looked up and recognized the Captain. “Ma’am, I told you twice that you couldn’t pet my dog, that she was not friendly and that if you tried, she would bite you!”

“Now Sergeant, there is no need…”

I stood up, cutting her off with a wave of my hand. “Yes, there is a need. You need to go somewhere else, or I’m going to take her muzzle off. We’ll see how you fare then…. Ma’am.”

She knew what the pause before the honorific meant (if you spend enough time in the military, you can make any word have 4 letters), but she backed down. I explained again that these were working dogs, and not pets. They had a job to do, and it didn’t include satisfying every pet lover’s want to give a dog affection. She took it pretty hard.

“I just miss my dogs so much, and she really looks sweet. I never thought she would have tried something like that.” It looked like she was going to start crying.

Alex said, “She was just luring you in with that sweet smile,” as he got up to take Bruno over to her and let her have a pet. Bruno was eating it up. He was bouncing around like a puppy and just about bowled her over a couple of times. The Captain didn’t care at all. She just needed to pet a dog, no matter what. Fama just came back over and laid down, looking at me, her smirk saying that she understood, and agreed.

Officers.

Sometime later that night, we boarded the plane with Luchian, and after a short flight we reached Jalalabad Air Field, known better as JAF. Sergeant First Class (SFC) Sully crawled out of bed and brought his pick-up truck down to the flight line to help us move our gear and dogs to a B-Hut (a wooden shack 24′ x 24′) where we would be spending the next 4 days. After several trips, we had all our gear inside and he was giving us a rundown of the FOB and quick directions to the chow hall and the latrines. SFC Sully had been an MP for 17 years, and was very familiar with working dogs. He spent some time playing with Bruno and Griff while he was talking to us. then the inevitable happened. He asked to meet Fama, who was watching him intently from her crate.

“She’s not really friendly,” said Luchian.

SFC Sully put his I-have-been-in-the-Army-a-long-time-and-there-is-nothing-you-can-tell-me-that-I-don’t-already-know look, and said, “I have been around some working dogs in my time. Just let her come say Hi. If I get bit, it’s my own damn fault, and I know that.”

Luchian and I looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. I opened the crate and put Fama’s leash on, letting slack out as she pulled her way to SFC Sully. Her tail was wagging, and she investigated him with her nose as he petted her head. They were standing right by a cot, and Fama put her front feet up so she could get a little closer to the tasty bits. SFC Sully had been petting her on the sides of her head and under her chin, which she was tolerating, but when she elevated herself on the cot, he put his hand on top of her head. I was watching closely and saw her switch flip from nice to naughty, so I was already in the process of jerking on the leash when she grabbed his arm. It was a lightening quick move that was stopped short by the leash correction, but not short enough. She had nipped his forearm on the way out.

I gave her another, much firmer leash correction, gave her a loud “Foei” and tossed her in her crate. All this happened in humming bird time, so SFC Sully was still trying to figure out what had just happened.

“I’m sorry Sergeant. We tried to tell you she wasn’t friendly, but you insisted.”

“I’m glad it happened to me and not someone who doesn’t understand these dogs. No one pets your dog. Do you understand that Sergeant? I don’t want to see a report of a soldier getting injured out on your FOB because you fail to control your dog. I understand that sometimes things happen that you can’t control, but you don’t let anybody talk you into letting you pet that dog like I just did. You should have just said no. She is your responsibility, and you have to stick up for yourself, no matter who is doing the asking. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Sergeant,” was the only reply I could give. He was right.

SFC Sully had a good head on his soldiers. He was testing me, not my dog. He didn’t care if she would bite people. He wanted to see if I would let it happen, and sure enough, I did. I was thankful for the lesson. I had to remember that no matter how high another soldier’s rank was, no one outranked me when it came to my dog.