9
BLIND SAM
To Chan’s surprise, his correspondence with Mary Jay continued. He had thought her interest might wane because he had so little to tell about Prinz. Other than the daily routine, there wasn’t much to share. He couldn’t tell her that “patrol,” for Prinz, meant a walk to the chow hall or a stroll to CQ. Apparently the relative lack of information didn’t matter. In her last letter she had told Chan, “I think I might be in love with you.” He felt sure that she wouldn’t probe for much detail on Prinz’s actual role as a war dog.
Chan felt a little guilty about leaving Prinz out of the rotation. He was allowed to choose any of the dogs, and he felt safer with a more ferocious protector—but at least he knew Prinz was okay and his needs were met. Prinz always looked a little forlorn when he went back to the kennel, but Chan rationalized that it was best for both of them. Prinz couldn’t protect him the way King could, and Chan even wondered if the dog would protect himself if push ever came to shove. Besides, Prinz wasn’t the only dog who didn’t “work” for his supper. Several of the dogs had, no doubt, come from similar backgrounds and didn’t really have the heart for sentry work.
Other dogs were not healthy enough to patrol. Sam, Prinz’s kennel neighbor, was one of those dogs. He had become blind while in Korea due to a degenerative disease that progressed with age. Cataracts had clouded his eyes in Korea, making him appear older than he really was, and his vision was almost non-existent. All of the handlers had become worried for his safety in the field. Old Blind Sam (as Broadway called him in his languid Texas drawl) had the sweetness of a dog who had lived a long life close to loving humans. But he wasn’t as old as his appearance would make anyone believe. Although they had no background on him (he had been in Korea since 1953 and had gone through Camp Carson long before this group of handlers), the men believed him to be middle-aged, roughly five or six years old. When his vision failed, he was taken out of rotation and put in an area of the kennel set aside for the sick, the old, and the docile dogs of the 8125th. There he would rendezvous with Prinz.
Prinz and Sam ate their meals together sometimes, and took naps in the sun when it dared to show its face in the Korean sky. Prinz felt at ease in Sam’s presence. Spending time with Sam also meant Prinz saw Chan more often. Broadway and Chan were good friends, and Broadway spent a lot of time with Sam. Prinz missed the constant contact with Chan that he had had back home in Colorado, and he lived for the moments when he was by his side. Often, Blind Sam and Prinz would stroll the base together with Chan and Broadway. Prinz would guide his canine friend with his own body away from things he was sure Sam could no longer sense. It was in those moments that his life felt like the old one he had left behind in Maine, and he was happy.
Broadway also loved being around Sam, and eventually he let the dog tag along with him nearly everywhere he went. Sam went with Broadway to the Post Exchange, the barber shop, the chow hall, and CQ to do necessary paperwork. Sometimes at CQ Sam would sit at Simpson’s feet—before Simpson moved over to Uijongbu—and wait for Broadway to finish his chores. Sam loved when snacks would magically appear in Simpson’s hand, and he was content to sit there for hours on the slightest possibility that they might.
IN THE LINE OF DUTY
Broadway still had sentry work to do, and for that he needed more than a companion—Sam couldn’t follow him on duty. The shifts for handlers were from sundown to sunup, usually four nights on and three nights off in a week. Broadway and his working dog, Rex, were given the dreaded task of guarding the farthest perimeter of the post in complete darkness, often in frigid temperatures. He was always glad to have Rex by his side on those long nights, knowing that he was the most effective weapon in the arsenal. All the handlers agreed that just having that weapon brought peace of mind. Moreover, the handlers had no question that their weapon was precise and deadly. However, Broadway continued to hope that he would never have to unleash it.
One night while they were guarding the perimeter, Rex alerted with a low growl. This wasn’t unusual in the sentries. Trained for sensitivity to any possible threat, they would grumble and bark at all kinds of noises in the night. This time, however, Rex was different. The hackles on Rex’s back raised, mirroring the hair that lifted on Broadway’s arm. Rex threw his head low, and Broadway crouched beside him. The two moved together toward the threat, suspended in an eerie quiet. Rex wasn’t barking yet, and Broadway listened with intensity. The threat was coming toward them. Before flicking on his flashlight, he called “halt” in Korean.
The beam of light found the Korean man, a civilian, well inside the perimeter, moving toward them, his posture aggressive. He might have had something in his hand, but Broadway couldn’t tell whether or not it was a weapon. Broadway called out to him a few more times, almost pleading for him to stop. The man barreled forward and seemed to be looking at the dog. Broadway could feel Rex quivering in anticipation all the way through the leash. He knew Rex was waiting for the order to do what he had been trained to do. Broadway hesitated, called out one last time to the intruder who ignored him, then dropped the leash. “Get him!”
Rex was a rocket, and he took the man down like a lion on its prey. Broadway could see that Rex had gone for the face and throat, an area that all the dogs had learned in bite training was unprotected and vulnerable. He waited to call the dog off because he didn’t know if there was a weapon involved. Broadway was just as much concerned for Rex as his own safety, and he wanted his dog to be able to protect himself. Thankfully, Rex seemed to have the upper hand. As he got closer to the scene he could see that the man was struggling. Rex had been taught to keep pressure while the perpetrator resisted. The more the man struggled, the more Rex sank in, shaking the man and writhing on top of him to maintain his grip. Broadway repeatedly told the man to stop resisting, but the man kept screaming and trying to get away.
Finally, Broadway had to pull Rex off. They struggled awhile before he was able to get a muzzle on him and contain him. The intruder lay on the ground, bleeding from deep oozing punctures all over his body. His eye was so mangled that Broadway was unsure if it still remained in its socket. It was the gushing femoral artery which concerned him most. He applied pressure, but he needed assistance immediately to keep the man alive. Broadway pulled out his pistol and fired a series of three shots, the unit’s signal for help. He waited, not knowing if he had been heard, then repeated the chain again.
It was more than an hour before help arrived. He stayed by the man’s side throughout, checking vitals and trying to keep him conscious. In their time together, only able to communicate a few words in Korean, he tried to keep the man positive and hopeful. He ascertained that the man did not have a weapon. Maybe he had and dropped it. His fellow handlers arrived on the scene and congratulated him and Rex. The dog, knowing he had done a good job, wagged his tail and soaked in the praise. Broadway was much less cheerful. He realized that if the man died, he would have to live with a mixed sense of guilt over taking a life. Above all else, though, he was grateful to Rex for saving them from what he still believed had been a life-threatening situation.
The Korean man was rushed to the big hospital in Seoul. Medics worked on him in transport, as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He was stabilized at the hospital for a while, but two days after the attack, he died from his injuries. Rex became the only dog of the 8125th ever attributed with a kill.
HEALING WORK
Broadway continued working with Rex. Patrols were uneventful, and the two went about business as usual. Overall, Broadway was satisfied with his work. Then an opportunity arose for him to take on the role of a vet-tech. To his own surprise, he was open to it.
The vet-techs were not trained as such. They were handlers who took on the responsibility of all the medical care for the dogs in the absence of a veterinarian. Broadway’s friend Heiney (just a grumpy kid who hated the Army and acted like an 80-year-old man, Broadway joked) had been the unit’s vet-tech, but he had moved on to a
nother job and left the position open. All the handlers at Camp Carson had learned basic canine first aid and care. They could also humanely put a dog down if necessary and certify their death certificates for Army purposes. Broadway considered the position carefully, knowing he would have to stop working with Rex on a daily basis. Rex knew his feelings on a level he believed the dog never could for anyone else. But Broadway also loved the dogs, like Blind Sam, who needed someone to care for them. Then he remembered that the vet-techs didn’t have night patrols. It was the idea of a regular full night’s sleep that sold him.
It was good for Broadway’s soul to take a step back from nightly patrols. He found a peace in caring for the dogs, and he got to spend more time with Blind Sam. Through his new job, he made a lot of connections with the Korean community as well. On the sly, he began giving horse meat to a missionary who ran an orphanage for Korean children, most of them left parentless and starving by the war. Broadway was stealing from the government to do this, but he didn’t care about the consequences. He knew, maybe for the first time since arriving in Korea, that he was doing the right thing. Over time, the relationship between Broadway and the missionary became a true friendship.
Broadway would deliver the meat to the orphans as often as he could without getting caught, and to the delight of the children he brought Sam along. Maybe because the missionary himself had such a deep love for Sam, the children trusted him. They would flock around him when he came, petting and hugging him. Sam loved their attention. This, Broadway was convinced, was Sam’s true mission in Korea. He was never meant to be hardened; he was meant to be a dog.
10
DOWN TIME
The patrols in Korea were long and rough for both the men and the dogs. They battled the elements together, especially the bitter cold. The equipment they had been issued was not sufficient to protect them from the winter weather. So-called “Mickey Mouse” boots—thermal insulated boots, named after the beloved cartoon character because they were so big—and parkas were at a premium because of their usefulness. For the most part their uniforms were hand-me-downs from the World War II era, and their tents were the same. Each tent was outfitted with a potbellied stove, but wood was a scarcity. The men felt they would never be able to make a fire hot enough to keep the arctic air at bay. If the dogs could talk, they might have had the same complaint. Their kennels weren’t insulated against the winter wind, which was sharp enough to cut through the dogs’ lush coats. On patrol, the men would often keep their bodies as close as possible to the dogs for shared body heat. At least the dogs’ meals were always warm, because the horse meat would freeze in the can and had to be thawed on an open fire. Many of the handlers, lured by the idea of a hot meal, would sample the horse meat before giving it to the dogs.
The summer months brought discomfort to a whole new level. It could get very hot in the middle of Korea, with swarms of tormenting bugs and very little shade to escape. Worms and mange were huge problems for the dogs in that climate, and they required regular worming and baths. On patrols the men would carry extra canteens for the dogs. The physicality of the dogs’ work demanded three times the water in hot weather to keep them hydrated, and their heavy fur coats only exacerbated the problem. Luckily for the teams at Uijongbu, there was a river flowing near their post. The men would often, in their downtime, grab their dogs and head to the river to cool off. They used that opportunity to give the dogs their antiseptic baths and have fun. On the hottest days the river would be dotted with GIs in their skivvies, floating in the cool stream with a swimming dog at the end of a leash, pulling them along.
The dogs loved a swim in the river as much as the men, or maybe more so.
It was important, especially in the hazardous line of work of the 8125th, to have sufficient time to unwind. The Army recognized that and afforded the men those occasions. But Army policy only allowed for dogs to be given time off the rotation in order to heal and recuperate, not for recreation. This meant that after regulation grooming or being checked over and treated by their handlers or vet-techs, the dogs were left chained to a stake near their kennels. The handlers recognized their dogs’ need for play and socialization, however, even if they had to be muzzled in the process. So the men took the dogs with them wherever they could. This was especially true when the men went hiking, a favorite pastime for many of them. The dogs weren’t authorized to be off-leash on these outings, but the men knew their dogs and took the necessary precautions to keep people safe while still allowing the dogs some much needed exercise. The handlers were willing to accept the consequences if they got caught, because they saw the benefit for everyone if the dogs were physically and mentally sound and balanced.
Lieutenant Word and Sergeant Fowler (he had become sergeant in Korea) were two of the leaders who, because of their intimacy with the men and dogs of the 8125th, knew that letting the dogs run was crucial. Although they didn’t have dedicated dogs themselves, they took the time to give dogs recreation in their down time. The two men had hunted from childhood, and they endeavored to continue that activity in Korea. When they had the time, they would find an off-duty dog and take it into the countryside to help them in the hunt. The Shepherds, with their strong prey drive, could easily be trained to hunt down rabbit. Some of the more docile dogs still retained a soft palate and were able to retrieve ducks and geese for the men. After a while they had some favorite dogs and were always disappointed when these K-9s were on duty and couldn’t go with them.
Occasionally the men were offered rest and relaxation time, and they would take the time to get off the post and see Korea. Simpson and Stewart took R&R together once and went into Seoul. They marveled at the craftsmanship and artistry of the Korean city. More profoundly, they realized that people were starving in the big cities just as much as they were in the small villages. On that trip, the two men gave children money whenever they could. Simpson found it painful at times because there was never enough to care for them all.
Fickes brings a runner home and helps the 8125th to victory.
Overall, the men made the best of their leisure hours and found things to do even when they had to create them. Chan formed a baseball league on post and got other units to play the 8125th in regular games. They had two winning seasons while in Korea. Fickes bought a ukulele and learned to play the entire Burl Ives songbook. There was always someone up for a game of cards. Many of the guys had cameras and took up photography.
Hatch and Simpson regularly photographed Korean cemeteries because the stacked stones and remnants of ancestors’ lives made them visually interesting subjects. Once they took a hike together in the mountains and found a Korean monastery where they sat for a little while with the monks.
Sometimes the boys just had to be boys.
Falge and some of the other guys fashioned a horseshoe pit. Chan taught Bakken how to play chess, and even when Chan took his queen off the board, no one could beat him. Jellison and Talley, both married men, preferred to hang out together and away from any shenanigans. They went to the exchange a lot and patronized local craftsmen who came there to make good money. Once, Jellison brought his dog Tex in to sit for a portrait painted by one of the artists.
All the guys agreed that their best time off was when Debbie Reynolds came with the USO. Some of the guys and dogs had to work security for the event, but they didn’t mind. Security only got them closer to the starlet.
Of course, not all ways of passing the time were wholesome or beneficial. Drinking was a way to while away the hours of loneliness and boredom, and many of the guys partook. One of the men, Mardunkle, was prone to drinking to excess. Once he was standing outside the Enlisted club, very drunk, his dog Cheetah at his side. Someone walked by and made a comment about Cheetah. Mardunkle flew into a rage and tried to beat the man to death with his bare hands. One of the other handlers had to grab Cheetah, who had also become enraged, and move him away from the scene to protect everyone.
Hanging at the Enlisted Club with local girl
s was a welcome distraction.
The men of the 8125th had been issued ammunition, but they used very little of it, usually choosing their dog weapons instead. Since they were stationed at facilities that stored ammo, however, the men would burn powder whenever they could. Many hours were spent shooting at targets both authorized and unauthorized. Sometimes drinking would go hand-in-hand with the shooting, and many close calls and near misses—too many to count—were born from this hazardous combination.
Inevitably, there were girls around the alcohol, too. Fickes once marveled at Chan because he seemed to be constantly rejecting the advances of Korean girls. He told the other guys, “Chin needs a dog to protect him from all the girls chasing him.” Prostitutes abounded around the camp, and Chan caused a great deal of embarrassment for one when she realized his name was her family’s name, too.
It was difficult to stay out of trouble for many of the young men so far from home. Most managed to keep the shenanigans to a minimum and avoid punishment. A few were not so lucky. Fickes went to the stockade once for dereliction of duty. Bakken got into some trouble over an incident in town where he was accused of using his dog, Bullett, to threaten the mayor. He received counseling for the event but was able to prove that it mostly wasn’t true. Sometimes the dogs were used in the troublemaking. Once while on patrol, Hatch found a Jeep parked on a dark back road on post. The doors of the Jeep were open, and he could see inside where a lieutenant and young nurse were kissing. He alerted his dog, Willy, to the “suspects” and released him on the lovers. Hatch knew full well that Willy was hard to pull off anyone (he couldn’t get him off Chan once, because Willy mistook him for a Korean), so it was almost miraculous that the couple managed to keep the dog from tearing them apart. Furious, the lieutenant threatened Hatch’s career, but to tell the story would have forced him to admit that he and the nurse were in an unauthorized area, doing unauthorized things. Hatch never received official punishment.
K-9 Korea Page 12
