Does this mean Beatrice has to stay here? We're at our wits' end with worry. There are people here, including some officers, who would like to adopt the five pups once they are weaned. What do we do, and how does this work now? We need your guidance. Thank you.
-SSG Roberta Green
Rather than take Beatrice off the list, we merely pushed her rescue date back a few weeks. Now that the puppies, Abibi, Taji, Hause, Rocky, and Chewy, had reached three-months, they complied with airline regulations and could fly with their mother on this mission.
The next animal scheduled for collection that day was our second cat, named "Caramel." After the security team picked her up, they would make four more stops to collect the dogs: Roxy, Rosie, Stubbs, and Charlie.
All of the animals had a story, some more touching than others. Charlie's story involved one of the saddest tragedies a person can experience. Charlie had come into one civilian contractor's life at such a perfect time that one wonders if divine intervention was involved. When Kenny's wife, Jolene, contacted me, I was unprepared for her heart-wrenching story.
Kenny had been working in Iraq for an American company that repaired and serviced mine resistant ambush-protected (MRAP) vehicles. These had been brought in to replace the Humvees, which gave soldiers no chance of survival when they drove over an IED. A strong V-shaped framework was installed around the sides and body of large military trucks and tanks. This barrier deflected the explosive force of any IED out to the sides and away from the vehicle base, protecting occupants from the full effect of the blast. Kenny's job saved many American soldiers' lives.
After long months of steady, hard work, Kenny took R&R and flew back to visit his family. The day he arrived, his two-year old grandson suffered a tragic death. Kenny was devastated. The child had been his pride and joy, and his death had taken its toll. As soon as the funeral was over Kenny went back to Iraq, still reeling and was unable to recover from a deep depression. Soon after he returned to work, Kenny's workmates approached him and asked what to do about a stray female dog they'd found while he was away. Kenny took one look at the five- or six-week-old puppy and thought how his grandson would have loved her. "Leave her with me," he said and named her Charlie.
By adopting Charlie, Kenny suddenly felt closer to the boy's spirit. He poured his love into that little dog, keeping her constantly at his side. With such a faithful companion supporting him, the pain of grief seemed more bearable. Kenny's wife, Jolene, had written to me saying, "I didn't know if I'd ever see my husband again. He was so consumed by our grandson's loss, I feared it would take away the edge that kept him from getting killed before now. Having Charlie with him has been a great comfort for me because when he looks out for her, he's inadvertently looking out for himself"
A story like Kenny's made me ever more aware of just how important our mission was. As the SLG team drove out the gate to collect Charlie and ten other animals, I silently wished them all Godspeed.
Still anxious to hear from Lynda or Dave on the French issue, I kept myself busy with Bev, constructing our temporary kennel. We needed to house as many dogs as we could in one area. With the assistance of Dutch, SLG's fleet manager, we scrounged through the compound's junk pile looking for any suitable building materials we could find. The discovery of a dozen wooden pallets proved to be the shelter builders' bargain of the year. One by one, we hauled them to the ops center building, where a courtyard fence connected two villas, creating a three-sided enclosure. We made a fourth wall by binding the pallets together with zip-ties. Dutch then produced a large section of camouflage netting, which we strung over the shelter area, giving the dogs at least some relief from the unrelenting heat of the Baghdad sun.
During the construction Iraqi nationals walked by with bemused looks on their faces. Several stopped to watch the extraordinary women from America. By the time we finished our construction project, we wouldn't win a prize for beautifying the neighborhood, but we sure could have won something, hands down, for ingenuity.
It was time to gather the dogs and settle them into their temporary home. We decided to leave Francine in the pool area, where she was safe and comfortable, and Tippy, who had no intention of moving away from the kitchen, stayed put as well.
"The only thing we need now is dog food," I said to Bev. "Some of the owners provided dry food they had left over from stateside care packages, but it won't be enough for the number of stomachs we've got to fill."
"I'll go see what I can scrounge from the cook," Bev said.
A short time later I found Bev standing outside the kitchen next to a large metal tub of raw chicken, beef, fish, and other leftover scraps the cook had set aside for the dogs. Using a waist-high courtyard wall as her worktable, she began to chop the meat and divide it among a row of paper plates. Bev's hands, covered with blood and grease, were useless for wiping the sweat that ran down her face. She gritted her teeth, wiped each cheek with a shrugged shoulder, and carried on chopping.
Staying cool in the Baghdad shelter Terri Crisp
Tippy, Bev's kitchen assistant, waiting for a meal in Baghdad Bev Westerman
"Things here are so different," Bev said as the sweat dripped off her brow. "It makes you realize how much we take for granted at home. It's no wonder soldiers talk about always being on edge. I can see why now."
"Did something happen?" I asked.
"No. But did you see the signs on the sides and back of the SLG vehicles?" Bev continued chopping as she talked. ""They were bilingual notices in big, bold lettering."
"You mean the `STAY BACK 100 METERS' warning?"
"Yep. One of the guys translated the Arabic words for me. I don't know if he was pulling my leg or not, but after the order to stay back one hundred meters, the Arabic version contains the addendum, `OR YOU WILL BE SHOT."'
"Do you think they really mean that?" I asked, stunned.
"Like I said," Bev wiped the sweat with her shoulder again, "it's not like home."
Bath time in Baghdad Bev Westerman
arking dogs announced the SLG team's return in the late afternoon. I turned the corner of the ops center building just as the line of vehicles passed through the gate. The men had tucked the airline-crated animals into every space they could find, leaving them panting from the heat. The cat Caramel, however, remained cool and comfortable like a typical feline that always gets her way. Throughout the trip one of the men had perched her crate on his lap and left the air-conditioning vent aimed directly at her. The satisfied look on Caramel's face suggested she had always presumed that the best seat in the house was hers. Of course it was hers; there was no question about it.
Bev and I looked at each other as the men climbed out of the trucks. Although we were full of gratitude for the safe return of men and animals, our next thought, expressed by slightly raised eyebrows, was, "Boy, are we going to have our hands full." With eighteen dogs and two cats in our care, that left just ten more dogs and one cat to collect the following day.
Beatrice's five puppies were offloaded first. They were definitely hot, but I had to remind myself, these dogs were acclimated to the heat, unlike Bev and me.
The men carried the crates to our new shelter, and when they saw the hodgepodge enclosure we'd built with camouflage netting, pallets, and zip ties, the teasing began.
"Hey, if we knew what you could do with a heap of pallets, we'd have let you come sooner," said the team leader as he set down Rosie's crate.
"It's just like having our wives around," one guy complained with a smile. "We go to work, and when we get back, the whole place looks different."
"Don't let their teasing get to you," the American team leader laughed. "I can see the two of you fit right in. This is how a lot of things are built in this country."
While getting the dogs settled in, we gave them a once-over to make sure they were okay. We filled their water dishes but held off on the food at first. They were all too excited, checking out their new digs as well as eyeing their new shelter mates. Unless th
e dogs had already been living together, we kept them separate; an all-out dogfight was the last thing we needed.
"I think it's time for your baths," I announced after the latest arrivals were tucked into their temporary homes.
The puppies had not been out of their crate for the entire trip back to the compound, so they were covered in excrement. Using the bottom half of an airline crate, I dragged a nearby hose into the shelter area and proceeded to fill it, grateful that the water happened to be on for the moment. Baghdad's water services were no more reliable than its power supply. Bev ran back to our room for shampoo, and soon we went to work.
In the 120-degree heat, I expected Chewy, the first puppy, to enjoy the tepid water, but he wasn't having it. He tried to wriggle free the entire time. His struggling resulted in my getting more of a soaking than the pup, but I was not complaining. That water felt great. One after another, I scrubbed most of the filth off the puppies.
All during the sudsy exhibition, a row of Iraqi men stood outside our makeshift wall and stared in fascination. This was the first time any of them had seen a dog get washed. Each time a dog shook, spraying water all over me, the men laughed and chattered in Arabic. When I allowed the dogs to plant juicy kisses on my face, they nudged each other and grimaced.
Taking care of the animals wasn't an easy job. With only sporadic electricity and water, tasks such as feeding, cleaning, and cooling the animals became difficult and time-consuming. As soon as the water was on, we quickly took advantage, but many jobs were only half done when the water cut off again.
That evening, when the SLG team members returned from BIAP, they brought us the microchips that Linette had delivered to the Kuwait airport. It felt good to have one more thing go as planned. According to my latest e-mail from our FedEx coordinator, the French were still not budging from their impossible demands. It was out of my hands, so I just had to trust that Lynda and the FedEx team would eventually find a way to get us home.
At the end of an incredibly long day, Bev and I dragged ourselves back to the villa. The moment we crossed the courtyard, the dogs started barking. This was not going to win friends among SLG staff members who needed as much sleep as they could get to stay alert on their jobs. Bev and I tried to quiet the dogs, but every time we walked away, Rosie and Roxy barked; then the whole chorus joined in.
"What are we going to do?" Bev asked.
"Rosie and Roxy are the instigators," I said while rubbing my sunburned forehead. "Let's take them back to our room."
"What about the `No dogs in the house' rule?"
"We could wake up early and bring them back before anyone gets up," I suggested.
"I guess if it means everyone gets their sleep tonight, they'll be glad we broke the rule."
Bev and I tiptoed to the villa, and Rosie and Roxy cooperated in silence. We were just about to enter the courtyard again when we heard a sound behind us. Our hearts stopped.
"What's that?" Bev whispered.
Once again that darned puppy, Patton, had managed to escape. Not only that, but he'd made up his mind to join our slumber party. We were so exhausted by then, it was easier just to give in.
I got about four hours of sleep that night with Patton hogging three-quarters of my bed. How could such a small puppy take up so much room? By the time I dozed off with him cuddled up to me, I realized that he could have taken the entire bed, and I wouldn't have minded. Life was not about sleep or comfort. It was all about these animals.
Patton's paws were poking me in the ribs as the first light of dawn filled the room. Minutes later, wearing pajamas and unlaced work boots, Bev and I tiptoed down the stairs with Rosie, Roxy, and Patton. We crept out of the villa, but as soon as the other dogs saw us, they began to bark. Anyone who wasn't awake before certainly was now.
We quickly returned to our rooms to change out of our PJs, then went back outside and took turns walking the dogs, while the other person cleaned crates. After we finished, we each squeezed in a shower. Then Bev went to prepare breakfast for eighteen dogs and two cats, and I checked my e-mails, hoping for good news regarding the French. When I saw Dave's name sitting in my inbox, I didn't know whether to celebrate or cringe. The time on the e-mail showed that Dave had sent it several hours before. Was it good news?
June 1, 2008
Good morning, Terri,
All of us at FedEx want to do everything we can to transport the dogs and cats back to the States, but we must first ensure all regulatory concerns of the French are addressed before we take possession of them in Dubai.
I cannot allow FedEx to accept responsibility until we are reasonably assured we will not have any compliance issues. This could impact FedEx's reputation with the French regulatory authorities.
Based on what I've seen from the French so far, maybe we need to delay the shipment a number of days. I would suggest we reschedule for the following week, on Tuesday, June 10. Let me know your thoughts, as we would need to reschedule with Gryphon as well.
- Dave
With the increasing heat, staying in Baghdad another week would put the animals more at risk, even if we moved them in the middle of the night. I was also afraid we'd wear out our welcome at SLG, especially if we had to keep sneaking dogs into our room. I would agree to Dave's suggestion if I absolutely had to, but I was not ready to concede just yet.
I e-mailed Dave back and told him I'd like to stick with our plan to get the animals to Dubai that night. I reiterated that I would have a better chance of complying with French requirements from there. A short time later Dave's next e-mail arrived, giving me some hope.
Hi Terri,
I may not have mentioned before, but I'm participating as a guest at the Army War College's security seminar and will be here all this week. When our animal move hit the bump in the road this morning, I reached out to a U.S. Navy Captain and his wife. They've taken a real interest in Operation Baghdad Pups and believe they know the right people to pull some strings. I'm hopeful this may lead to a much-needed solution. Go ahead and get the animals to Dubai. I'll keep working the problem from here.
- Dave
I ran outside to find Bev hanging out with the dogs. When she saw the look on my face she groaned and said, "Please don't tell me we're stuck here until Christmas."
I couldn't keep a straight face any longer. "Pack your bags, partner. We're going to Dubai!"
Bev whooped and gave me a high-five before asking, "By the way, have you seen Patton?"
"He was in the ops center with me, but a guy walked out eating a bag of potato chips, and Patton followed him, hoping for a handout."
"I'd better go find him," she said. "We don't want him missing his ride to the airport tonight. Losing Burt yesterday was bad enough."
SLG's scheduled pickup of Burt, the two-timing cat, had not gone as planned the day before. When the team members had showed up at the designated location, they learned that Burt had escaped minutes before they arrived. The men stayed as long as they could, searching for the fugitive feline, but with several more pickups to do, they couldn't delay any longer. Burt would have to wait at the American outpost until we came back for our first fall mission.
In spite of continued efforts to locate Baby Leesa, we never found her either. Without time to arrange a pickup for two replacement animals, we'd be flying with twenty-six dogs and two cats that night-not the thirty we had hoped for.
The SLG convoy had left earlier to pick up three remaining dogs: Iraqi, Siha, and Samantha. On the team leader's last update he reported that they had collected two of the three dogs already. So far the day was actually going as planned.
Much remained to be done before we'd be ready for the evening flight to Dubai. I had managed to locate Aymen Almarrani, who was recommended by local Iraqis on the SLG team as someone who could administer the microchips. When Aymen answered his phone, I was relieved to learn he spoke English. For $25 per animal, plus the cost of hiring a car, he was willing to come to the compound and microchip each animal.
>
Aymen and his mother arrived in the late morning, so Bev worked with them to get all of the animals micro-chipped. After they were finished, Bev came in to check on Tom, who was not showing any improvement. Leaving Tom in Iraq meant leaving him to die. After careful consideration, Bev and I decided to bring Tom with us on the flight in spite of his condition. It was his only chance. We agreed to continue using the safety precautions we'd previously followed, keeping Tom isolated from the rest of the animals, thoroughly washing hands after handling him, and limiting Tom's nursing care to one person.
In order to move all the animals from our compound to the airport that evening, SLG arranged for a local national to bring his open flatbed truck. There would be no air conditioning, but we would load the animals at the last minute and make sure all their bowls were filled with water. The vehicle had metal rails on three sides plus a tailgate and was large enough to accommodate all the crates. Bev and I would bring the cats in the vehicle with us. The targeted time for our departure to the U.S. airbase at BIAP was 7:00 p.m.
I had my fingers crossed that the four owners, whose dogs SLG didn't need to collect, would be waiting for us at BIAP. Once we had Ralphie, Jolly, Buddha, and Moody, all the animals would be present and accounted for. I was especially anxious to meet Bryan Spears, who owned Moody. Bryan's mom, Janet, had originally contacted me by phone. After hearing the depth of emotion in this mother's voice as she spoke of her son, his dog, and the soldiers who rescued him, I would have moved mountains to bring that animal home.
Bryan's platoon was stationed in one of the hotspots of Baghdad where ethnic cleansing was still a major problem between Sunni and Shia neighbors. The platoon had been split into two teams: the Blue Team, which was Bryan's, and the Red team.
No Buddy Left Behind: Bringing U.S. Troops' Dogs and Cats Safely Home From the Combat Zone Page 18
