Greetings From Baghdad "Apocalypse Dog"

 

Howdy friends and neighbors! I would like to share with you a series of letters, written to my parents while I was serving in sunny southern Baghdad.

I noticed all my friends that wrote consistently tended to write solemn, serious commentary. They would explain in great detail the dangers and hardships that they faced daily in the fight to survive on the modern battlefield, seemingly in the hopes of scaring the bejesus out of their family and friends.

I decided to go another route. Using a combination of quick e-mails and letters, I decided to give them the lighter side of army life. Yep I lied a lot. With a little distortion and creativity enhanced by lack of sleep and 140 degree heat, the Greetings from Baghdad series was born.

So now without further ado I present to you…….

 

Greetings from Baghdad, the nation with the highest number of three legged dogs in the world. Pre-Dawn raid in the Abu Dashir sector, units dismount their HMWVs stealthily and rush to cover. Night Vision goggles cast the early morning in as eerie green light.

Rush from one position of cover to another. Try to control your breathing as you scan the target while another squad makes their move. When they reach cover they pick up security for you.

All units in place. Last minute mental review. Slow your thinking. All eyes on the target building now. Is the Intel good, is there a terrorist cell meeting going on in that building. How many, what kind of weapons? The thought that makes every soldier swallow hard…Bombs!

Some of the hardcore operators around here like to leave a large explosive charge on the property to ensure they are not taken without a price. Try not to think about it. Just waiting for the signal to breach. You are point man again; you will be first in the door.

Then you hear it, a sound that chills you to the bone, a sound that no man should have to hear…………… the sound of the Commanders driver trying to beat a dog to death with a rock?

I swear I am not making this up! Just seconds before we raided a house, Specialist Coffee (name changed to protect the stupid) decided it would be a good idea to mercy kill a three legged dog with a large chunk of concrete. Actually he first tried to stab it in the head with a bayonet but he had a little trouble due to the fact that the dog apparently did not realize that it was in its best interest to have a knife stuck in its head.

So Coffee pursued the only logical course of action and proceeded to beat the crap out of the dog with a chunk of concrete weighing about 30 pounds. A small dog can make an incredible amount of noise on a quiet residential street at 0400 hrs. You may ask yourself Why SPC Coffee would feel the need to execute this helpless animal, I asked him the same question.

“Coffee” I asked him later that day “why did Rover have to die?”

He went on to explain that it looked like it had been in an accident and lost it’s leg, and that it was sick and suffering, and would probably die soon anyway. I later repeated Coffee’s statement to Sergeant G who was in the gun turret of the vehicle next to Coffee, and had seen the whole thing. I asked if the dog had really looked that bad to which he replied “well ……. It looked a little tired.”

After the raid was over (remember the raid?) a couple of soldier including the medic went to check out the dog who was playful and liked all the positive attention. We gave him some scraps of food and as we drove off he galloped along on his three legs sorry to see us go.

Luckily the raid ended up being nothing, all we found in the house were five very surprised women and a dozen children. If there had been terrorists inside they probably would not have been very scared of soldiers unable to dispatch a three legged dog. The First Sergeant chewed Coffee’s butt for chow and that was the end of it.

There are a LOT of dogs in southern Baghdad, and the locals are pretty rough with them so maybe our three legged friend thought Coffee was playing with him.

“Woof he is beating and stabbing me, woof, are Americans ever nicer than Iraqis.”

Now whenever a dog and Coffee are in the same area SGT G makes him go sit in the vehicle. Back at the barracks when the dog slayer approaches guys lounging around jump up and say, “I am only tired, in no way am I suffering, you don’t have a bayonet do you? How about a chunk of concrete?”

So aside from a little teasing and some canine bruises everything came out OK. In fact the dog probably got more to eat that day than it usually gets in a month. If there is a moral to this story it has escaped me completely.