Dog's Life Magazine

Dogs of War

Spring 2008 Issue

By Kyra Kirkwood

 

Friendships formed by soldiers in war zones are often lifelong and titanium strong. Soldier/dog friendships in the time of war are no different. Canines can give soldiers a bit of home in a far-off land, a touch of normalcy in a state of turmoil and a moment of love in a ruthless mission. Leaving these loyal companions behind is often too much to bear; so the soldiers do all they can to bring home the dog they have come to love.

 

The most well known of these so far is the rescue of Lava, the dog made famous in the book, "From Baghdad, With Love," by retired lieutenant colonel Jay Kopelman. This San Diego resident now lives with Lava, age 3, after embarking on a multi-tiered rescue effort when his fellow Marines were unable to keep him. But Lava and Kopelman are not the only war dog tales touching hearts.

 

The newly formed Operation Baghdad Pups (OBP), part of the SPCA International, began in September 2007 in the wake of an email plea from U.S. Army Sgt. Edward Watson asking for help to get the orphaned Charlie out of Iraq—which they did on Valentine's Day 2008. The group operates under the umbrella of the SPCA International, and is funded by individual donations and its sponsor, I Love Dogs Inc. With donations and perseverance, OBP helps deliver dogs to the soldiers' homes in America, symbolizing not just a love between human and dog, but something even bigger.

 

Terri Crisp, the program manager of OBP, says the group fields two or three inquiries daily about befriended canines in war zones—even though it is against military policy to house or transport local dogs. "Many of these soldiers live in fear of getting caught with these animals," said Crisp.

 

Whether soldiers work through OPB or personal connections, they are all after the same result: giving both war orphan and soldier a happy ending.

 

MARK FEFFER & CINNAMON

 

In January 2006, Lt. Com. Mark Feffer, a U.S. Navy Reservist at the time, arrived at the military base in Afghanistan. Feffer had just lost his beloved Golden Retriever a few months before deployment, and was not expecting to fall in love with a local dog. But he did. So having the three-month-old Saluki-looking mixed breed to play with eased not just his homesickness, but also his grief.

 

"When you take five minutes with the dog, it's like you're home for awhile," said Feffer of Annapolis, Md. "Everything else melts away. There's no one else to show affection to, there's no one who will show affection to you. It's a very powerful escape to spend [time] with a dog."

 

Cinnamon adored playing, especially chase. She'd grab anything away from a soldier and run with it, hoping for a good game. Feffer fondly recalled the one time Cinnamon snatched his fellow soldier's cigarettes. "I think he chased her for 20 minutes," said Feffer, 43.

 

As time came for Feffer's tour to end in June 2006, he couldn't leave Cinnamon behind. But as much as she was his, Cinnamon also belonged to every other soldier on that base. "I didn't feel right to take her away from the other guys," he said.

 

So Feffer asked his fellow soldiers what they thought about Cinnamon going home with him, and,  "without exception, everyone was like, 'that's great'," he recalled. "We wanted to do this because she needed a better life. She was on borrowed time. It was a way for us to give back."

 

Feffer located a private government contractor returning to America who was willing to transport Cinnamon; military policies and logistics prohibit soldiers from doing this themselves. But when a ticketing snafu regarding Cinnamon's paperwork held things up at the airport in Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan, the chaperone left Cinnamon there. He wasn't about to forfeit his own ride home, so he abandoned her, said Feffer.

 

When the plane arrived in Chicago and the chaperone deplaned without Cinnamon, all he said to those waiting to provide temporary care for the dog was "she didn't make it," said Feffer, who at the time was still in Afghanistan. His dog was missing in action, in a foreign country, and he had not one clue how to find her.

 

Thus began a seemingly impossible mission—find Cinnamon. Feffer stood in endless lines at the Internet cafŽ to send out email pleas and begging to use the military phone became Feffer's daily round. Just as he exhausted all leads, Feffer's sister, Christine Sullivan, used her connections to keep digging. After more than a month, they learned that a Turkish airline staffer in the Bishkek airport took pity on the dog and sent her to live with an employee.

 

Feffer, now back in the U.S., couldn't believe what he heard. After many back-and-forth emails, the employee who had taken Cinnamon home agreed to return her to the military base, where Feffer's connections—including a reliable chaperone—would take over and bring her home.

 

Forty-four days after becoming lost, Cinnamon put her paws on American soil. At JFK International, Cinnamon bolted from her crate after a 25-hour journey and ran right into the open arms of an overjoyed Feffer.

 

Now, Cinnamon enjoys her East Coast life playing with Pete, the Labrador-mix that Feffer adopted from a local shelter in December 2006, or playing outside until she's exhausted. At the end of each day, Feffer can be found in the guest room, also known as Cinnamon's room, looking at his sleeping friend who he once believed he'd never see again.

 

"It keeps me grounded," he said. "I just can't believe she's here. It reminds me of what we went through and how many people got involved to help us."

 

To help sort through this journey, Feffer and his sister formed New Hope for Animals, the company which published a book about Cinnamon's story called, "44 Days Out of Kandahar," written by Sullivan. It's a way for them to give something back to the animals, said Feffer, who also details this journey on his website, 44-days.com. A portion of book profits goes to animal-related charities, such as Operation Baghdad Pups.

 

 

ANDREW BANKEY & SOCKS

 

For three of his four years on Earth, the black German Shepherd-mix with the white paws was a fixture at the coalition outpost in Western Iraq. When Sgt. Andrew Bankey, a fire support non-commissioned officer with the U.S. Army, arrived from his station at Fort Stewart near Savannah, Ga., he learned that every new unit "inherited" the dog, affectionately known as Socks.

 

Having learned skills and obedience from each group of soldiers, Socks was an asset to have around. At night, he slept outside the soldiers' barracks and escorted them to and from the restrooms. Even though it was against military policy, Socks basically went on patrol with the soldiers, keeping any out-for-trouble dogs and other dangers at a safe distance.

 

This big pup loved to hug people by leaning into them. "He's a big dog, and he loves to get attention. He's like this big old teddy bear for the most part." Of all those on base, Bankey felt closest to Socks, who followed him around constantly during his six-month deployment. So when word circulated that another unit would not be replacing Bankey's when it departed for home, thoughts of what to do with this four-year-old mixed-breed became paramount.

 

"He was going to be there without anyone to take care of him," said Bankey. "He probably wouldn't adjust back to living in the wild againÉ.He spent enough time over there. He did enough to deserve not to live that lifestyle anymore."

 

Leaving Socks behind to die wasn't an option, but Bankey had no idea how to get him safely home. "I didn't think it was even possible," he said.

 

Through his research, Bankey found the SPCA International and Operation Baghdad Pups. Bankey was pleasantly surprised when the transport transpired without a hitch. Crisp, now operations manager of OBP, arranged for a private security firm to pick up Socks and deliver him to the airport nearly two hours away. From there, Socks arrived at Dulles International Airport near Washington, D.C., on March 13, 2008, meeting volunteers who would care for Socks until Bankey's homecoming. On March 29, Bankey arrived, excited, amazed and anxious to see his friend and begin their life together at Fort Stewart.

 

"He has this history of being in Iraq with me," Bankey said. He noted how having Socks during wartime eased his burden and gave him a bit of peace during turmoil. "It takes your mind off what's going on. It's a relief."

 

BRIAN DENNIS & NUBS  

 

Every week when Marine Maj. Brian Dennis and his unit, the Border Transition Team, arrived to patrol Iraqi borders near Syria, he knew he'd be greeted by one of the locals—a 2-year-old German Shepherd/Border Collie mix. They affectionately named the dog Nubs because his ears had been cut off. He assumes by someone trying to make the dog Òa better, meaner watchdogÓ. Nubs ran with a pack of dogs throughout the forts and ruins along the border, which was a very common sight.

 

But this pup was special. "I developed a friendship with him right away," said Dennis, an F-18 fighter pilot stationed at Marine Corp Air Station Miramar near San Diego, Calif.

 

Despite Nubs' past abuse by locals, he acted friendly to the American soldiers, keeping them company while on patrol or entertaining them with his antics. After a night or two, at the end of their patrol, the Marines would return to base, approximately 70 miles south, with images of Nubs chasing the Humvees down the desert. The next time on patrol, there Nubs would be, waiting for them. This went on for three months, from September to December 2007.

 

Then one night, everything changed.

 

Upon arrival to patrol one icy, late December day, Dennis found Nubs in horrific shape. An Iraqi, Dennis learned through conversation with locals, stabbed the dog with a screwdriver, leaving a gaping, infected hole in his chest. Suffering, in pain, malnourished and cold, Nubs neared death.

 

He treated Nubs' wound with supplies from his own first-aid kid, and tried to keep the dog warm in the 18-degree night. On patrol, Dennis took any downtime available to pet Nubs and give him encouragement, but he feared this would be the end. "I thought we were hanging out for the last time," said Dennis, 36. "I was worried Nubs wouldn't be alive when I woke up. It was important for us to try and save him. We developed a bond with him by that point."

 

But the next day, Nubs was alive. Dennis left, and he encouraged his canine friend to stay strong, knowing in his heart it would be a miracle if he ever saw Nubs again. Ten days later, Dennis returned to patrol from his base, and there was Nubs, looking almost healed. "Maybe us showing up that day gave him a reason to live," Dennis said.

 

Two days after returning to base, Dennis' world was rocked.

 

There stood Nubs. On base more than 70 miles from his turf. He had tracked Dennis down through uninhabitable deserts owned by packs of territorial, feral dogs. Nubs had arrived beaten, bitten, hungry and worn down but alive, and looking for Dennis.

 

"Everyone asks me how, and I have no idea," Dennis said.  "He looked like he'd been through a war zone. He sees me and goes crazy, jumping on me, wagging his tail. He's all bit up and dirty, and so happy."

 

Word spread around camp of Nubs' adventure. Suddenly, the 100 or so Marines there wanted to see this legendary dog. Before long, Nubs became the unofficial base mascot.

 

"He really lifted everyone's spirits," Dennis said.

 

But word got to the higher-ups that a dog was on base—a violation of military policy. Dennis was ordered to get rid of the dog, by "any means necessary." There was no way Dennis would abandon or kill Nubs, so he did what he had to do: ship him home to America.

 

How? Through online research, asking questions, making connections and spending nearly $4,000 of his own money to insure Nubs' safe passage. Friends back home rallied, raising money and securing a foster family to care for Nubs temporarily until Dennis arrived a few weeks later.

 

On Feb. 22, 2008, Nubs landed safely on American soil to stay with Dennis' friends, and Dennis arrived in the wee hours of the morning on March 21. At first, Nubs seemed to not quite recognize the cammie-wearing Marine arriving at Camp Pendleton after these weeks apart. But within seconds of sniffing, Nubs went ballistic, jumping on Dennis, licking his face, whimpering—proving that he did remember his saving grace.

 

Now, Nubs is doing great. He began training with Graham Bloem, owner and head trainer with West Coast K9 in Encinitas, Calif., upon U.S. arrival. Issues such as dog aggression, fear and obedience were worked on, and will continue to be. Nubs gets along well with Dennis' Lab/Chow rescue, Bogey, 8.  Bloem stated that Nubs is a smart dog, one that learns quickly.

 

"I think he's really unique," Bloem said. "He seems to enjoy the training. He's showing a lot of his instincts."

 

Having Nubs home is such a joy for Dennis, and not a day goes by that he doesn't sense the bond those two formed in Iraq.

 

"I feel like we have some common ground," he said. "We slept in the same dirt, ran around the same ruins, dealt with the same Iraqis. Having him around makes me feel better. A dog can definitely be a huge part of healing and moving on."  

 

PETER NEESLEY & MAMA AND BORIS

 

While serving a tour of duty in Iraq, Sgt. Peter Neesley, 28, of the U.S. Army died of unknown causes in his sleep on Christmas Day 2007. His family was devastated, but knowing one part of Peter still lived—and needed their help—gave them something to work towards.

 

Peter had befriended Mama, a 1-year-old black Labrador mix, and her brown and white spotted newborn puppy Boris as he patrolled the neighborhoods of Baghdad around Halloween 2007. Mama started with two pups, but one was run over by a car, breaking Peter's heart.

 

"Peter was a very caring and protective and sensitive person," said his sister Carey Neesley, 31, of Grosse Pointe, Mich. "His big mission was that he wanted to earn the hearts of the community. For him, [Mama and Boris] were part of the community, too."

 

Peter and his fellow soldiers housed the dogs near the base and built them a doghouse complete with a mattress from the barracks. Peter encouraged his sister to send health-care items so he could nurse the dogs back to health.

 

"They were doing everything they could to take care of them," Carey said. "It was like bringing a little piece of homeÉin an environment that was so abnormal."

 

Constant emails from Peter throughout autumn convinced the Neesleys he would adopt the dogs upon his tour's completion in July 2008. He even asked them to research ways to get them home.

 

Within 24 hours of Peter's death, Carey and her family launched full-force into figuring out how they could grant one of Peter's last wishes.

 

"They were a part of Peter and they needed to come home," said Carey.

 

Carey appealed to her local media, and the story gained national attention. Quickly, strangers in both the U.S. and in Baghdad offered whatever they could to help. The Best Friends Animal Society in Kanab, Utah, stepped up, committing to getting Boris and Mama home on their dime, with many of their sources cultivated by being one of America's best-known animal welfare organizations.

 

Less than two months later, it happened.

 

The dogs, cared for by Peter's friends on base, were picked up by Best Friends' Rich Crook in Baghdad, flown to Kuwait then to Dulles International and then driven 10 hours in a van to Michigan to meet the Neesley family.

 

"They've brought so much love to our home," said Carey, who cried with relief and disbelief when she first saw them hop out of the car that rainy February afternoon. It may have not been the homecoming she expected, but this bittersweet welcome home still warmed her heart. "In an odd sort of way, it's like holding [Peter's] child. It has meant so much to us in so many different ways. It was a part of Peter we could have back again. At least something came home."

 

Mama and Boris share the Neesley home with two eight-year-old Golden Retrievers, Noah and Gussie, as well as two cats. ÒEveryone gets along swimminglyÓ, said Carey. Her 10-year-old son Patrick adored his Uncle Peter, who treated him like the son he hoped to have someday. Patrick may not be able to play with Peter anymore, but he has his dogs to keep him company. As does the whole family.

 

"I know it's been good for me," Carey said, noting how she sees a lot of her brother's sweetness, mild temperament and intelligence in Boris and Mama. "For dogs who came off the street in the middle of a warzone to end up in bed with us the first night was amazing. I know that was Peter. I know that was Peter's constant loveÉand being with them that gave them that security."

 

CONCLUSION

 

Many of these rescues, and many more in the future, were accomplished because of Operation Baghdad Pups.

 

OBP helps soldiers with the complicated logistics and financial burden of getting a war orphan out of Iraq or Afghanistan and on to American soil. Since soldiers just can't drive to the local airport and put the dog on a plane themselves, outside help is almost always needed.

 

While OBP recognizes the inhumane conditions toward animals in this part of the world, it's sharply focused on where it can make an immediate difference, and that involves dogs befriended by soldiers. OBP personnel can't just scoop up dozens of feral strays and ship them here, adding to our overpopulation problem. Nor do they condone end-of-the-tour soldiers picking up dogs from the streets and sending it home, even though there is no rapport formed. Crisp explains the group helps those who have been living with a young dog for some time and have formed not just a bond but also a relationship. OBP insures the dog will be loved and taken care of here, and it tries to gauge how well it might adjust to a new life.

 

"We take everything into consideration," she said.

 

In addition to raising funds and helping soldiers rescue their buddies, the group hopes to educate Iraqis about animal cruelty. Crisp also said it's a goal to not just change the military rule that makes it forbidden to house a local dog, but to also inspire the military to employ more humane ways to deal with the stray dog population in Iraq.

 

"If we're putting all this money into helping Iraq get back on its feetÉanimals have to be a part of that plan," Crisp said.

 

 

[SIDEBAR]

 

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