In the Line of Fire

by Collins, Ace;

  Scouting was also important when injured soldiers were moved to field hospitals for treatment. Having York along meant routes for transporting seriously wounded men were safe and efficient. Using the dog in this way also saved countless lives. Perhaps no dog had ever been worked as hard or as often as York and certainly no dog had ever enjoyed it more. York seemed to live to frustrate the enemy!

  By Christmas, York had become more than a tool and emerged as a good-luck charm. When he led the way, no one died. So soldiers began to seek out the German shepherd to have him lick their hand for good luck or petted him hoping that simple action would provide them with a bit of the dog’s invincibility. Those fortunate to work close to York also shared their best food with the dog, read him letters from home, took pictures with the canine, and swapped stories with other units of the incredible superdog. The dog became so well known to the friends and family of servicemen that he was placed on church prayer lists and talked about on schoolyards and in sewing circles.

  Like a great Major League Baseball pitcher, York actually made his job look far too easy. His gaze was so sharp, his hearing and smell so refined that nothing could surprise him. So when he was casually moving forward, the men could relax. When he slowed or tensed, they were ready for action.

  The dog’s ability to sense trouble well in advance gave those with him a tremendous advantage. Hence, soldiers asked to be placed with York’s unit. In a very real sense they saw the German shepherd as the 2nd’s Most Valuable Player. His reputation as a lifesaver grew to the point that by spring every patrol that went out asked for York. While a jolly, outgoing pet during rare down times, when on duty the dog had a singular focus and his concentration was unwavering. Nothing could unnerve him. While worried men always shifted their gaze to the skies at the sound of airplanes, York didn’t. He was able to identify the difference in hostile and friendly air traffic by sound. He also knew the sound of enemy tanks from those the Americans were using. Thus, he only reacted if the men needed to seek cover.

  Because York had the ability to spot trouble before it happened, he was not fully appreciated until officers began to study statistics. After one year of service in Korea, the Army reviewed the canine corps’ impact and made a startling discovery. In units without dogs, more men were dying because of surprise attacks by hidden enemies. In groups with dogs the casualty rate dropped significantly. And with York leading, no one was dying and few were even being injured. There was no way of measuring how many lives were saved by the dog, but the once-skeptical officers guessed the number to be in the hundreds. Because of this the Army grasped what had always been obvious to those serving with York; he was the canine Babe Ruth.

  The American top brass were not the only ones to notice the difference the dogs were making in the war. The enemy was being so hounded and frustrated by the German shepherds that their commanders made the canine soldiers primary targets. Yet the shoot-to-kill orders did no good when it came to York. He constantly sensed their presence before the North Koreans or the Chinese could act. Thus, no one collected the bounty on his head. In fact, because of him hundreds of the enemy died or were captured before they could even act.

  In February, the General Orders of the Department of Army, No. 21 was issued. It cited the value of dogs on the battlefield. That order reads as follows:

  The 26th Infantry Scout Dog Platoon is cited for exceptionally meritorious conduct in the performance of outstanding services in direct support of combat operations in Korea during the period 12 June 1951 to 15 January 1953. The 26th Infantry Scout Dog Platoon, during its service in Korea, has participated in hundreds of combat patrol actions by supporting the patrols with the services of an expert scout dog handler and his highly trained scout dog.

  The members of the 26th Infantry Scout Dog Platoon while participating in these patrols were invariably located at the most vulnerable points in the patrol formation in order that the special aptitudes of the trained dog could be most advantageously used to give warning of the presence of the enemy. The unbroken record of faithful and gallant performance of these missions by the individual handlers and their dogs in support of patrols has saved countless casualties through giving early warning to the friendly patrol of threats to its security.

  The full value of the services rendered by the 26th Infantry Scout Dog Platoon is nowhere better understood and more highly recognized than among the members of the patrols with whom the scout dog handlers and their dogs have operated. When not committed to action, the soldiers of the 26th Infantry Scout Dog Platoon have given unfailing efforts to further developing their personal skills as well as that of their dogs in order to better perform the rigorous duties which are required of them while on patrol. Throughout its long period of difficult and hazardous service, the 26th Infantry Scout Dog Platoon has never failed those with whom it served; has consistently shown out standing devotion to duty in the performance of all of its other duties, and has won on the battlefield a degree of respect and admiration which has established it as a unit of the greatest importance to the Eighth United States Army. The outstanding performance of duty proficiency, and esprit de corps invariably exhibited by the personnel of this platoon reflect the greatest credit on themselves and the military service of the United States.

  After two years of constant service, on June 16, 1953, York led the last of his 148 patrols. There were no surprises. Also, as had been the case for twenty-four months, no one died on York’s watch. A few weeks later, General Samuel T. Williams, commander of the 25th Infantry Division, presented the German shepherd a Distinguished Service Award. On that day, hundreds from one of the most highly decorated and recognized units in the United States Army saluted York as the member of that group that had likely saved the most lives.

  While other combat veterans returned home, York continued to serve in Korea for four more years. Much like he had before the war ended, he led patrols on scouting missions along the DMZ. Thankfully, during this time he was not called upon to save any lives.

  In the spring of 1957, the United States Army decided it was time to bring one of the Korean War’s greatest heroes home. On the first leg of the flight, York landed in Japan and was greeted by the media, local dignitaries, and civilians. Hundreds waited in line for a chance to meet and pet the dog. His next stop was the Army Dog Training Center at Fort Carson, Colorado, where he was assigned the task of touring the nation to develop interest in the recruitment and procurement of dogs for the military. After being honored in cities across the country, the German shepherd was then transferred to Fort Benning, Georgia, where he served with the 26th Infantry Scout Dog Platoon until his death.

  Korea reinforced the value of canines working alongside men in combat and giving those men an opportunity to not only perform better in war but to have a much greater chance of coming home to their families when the fighting ended. Thanks to York and those that served in Korea, scout dogs would also become key tools during the war in Vietnam. It is likely that thousands more Americans would have died in Southeast Asia if the dogs had not been used as scouts.

  As a majority of Americans now only know about the Korean War due to M*A*S*H, it seems appropriate that the television series once saluted canine soldiers. In the episode “Mulcahy’s War,” Sergeant Cupcake, a German shepherd that had been injured in combat, had his life saved by army surgeons. In this episode the scriptwriter fully understood the value of dogs like York and educated the show’s viewers on the way those that served with York felt about him as a soldier and a friend. In almost every way Cupcake represented York except that the real soldier dog was never injured. He was simply too smart for those who tried to bring him down!

  TEN

  HONOR AND COURAGE

  You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honor.

  —Aristotle

  Today, when most hear the name Nemo, they think of the clownfish in the modern Disney animated classic Finding Nemo. Before
that, “Nemo” most often conjured up images of the mysterious captain in Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. But for those who know and honor dog history, Nemo stands out as one of the true heroes of the Vietnam War. Five decades ago, in a time and environment much different from that which we have today, this German shepherd proved his value and grit as a soldier. But Nemo was not born into the military service or seemingly destined for combat. Initially he was an energetic puppy looking for a family to call his own and a fenced backyard to call home. Yet for people and canines, fate has a way of stepping in and changing everything.

  Born in October 1962, the black-and-tan German shepherd pup initially found a home as a rambunctious pet with an Air Force sergeant. When his owner was transferred the dog was not allowed to accompany him to his new assignment, so the sergeant’s employer stepped in and drafted the canine. Now a year and a half old, Nemo was shipped to San Antonio and in the heat of the unrelenting South Texas summer he underwent eight weeks of basic training, dog style.

  Nemo was evaluated based on instinct, intelligence, focus, athleticism, and temperament and, in spite of being an outgoing, friendly creature, was placed in sentry school. Under the merciless sun, Nemo went through physical training that included scaling fences, dragging wounded soldiers to safety, and identifying the location of men posing as enemies behind buildings, in brush, and hiding in the shadows. He was also taught to understand situations and moods: what kind of behavior represented a threat and what didn’t. So while he would always attack on command, he also grew to understand when to plunge forward based upon instinctively recognizing danger. Nemo’s uncanny ability to sense a threat pushed him to the top of his class while his large athletic body and lightning-quick reflexes made him as much a weapon as a soldier’s rifle. In other words, the draftee showed great potential for combat duty.

  Upon graduation from Lackland Air Force Base dog training school, Nemo was sent to a tattoo artist who, as an act to signify his value to the military, inked A534 inside the dog’s left ear. He was then dispatched to Washington and assigned to the Strategic Air Command at Fairchild Air Force Base in Spokane, Washington. With Airman Leonard Bryant as his handler, the dog performed routine sentry duties in a relaxed setting in one of the most beautiful areas in the United States. For the moment nothing indicated Nemo would ever face anything more lethal than a lost goat or cow or a mischievous raccoon. Yet not long after experiencing his first white Christmas, the two-year-old dog’s job assignment dramatically changed.

  By January, action was growing so heated in Vietnam that a call was sent out for additional sentry dogs. As the new year began, Nemo was one of many sent to Southeast Asia. Assigned to the 377th Air Police Squadron at Tan Son Nhut Air Base, Airman Bryant and Nemo were one of several teams designated for guard duty around the strategic facility located in the southeastern section of Vietnam. It was anything but a routine assignment.

  The French had originally designed and constructed the airport out of the flat, Asian landscape in 1920. It was used mainly for civilian flights until World War II when the Japanese took over large parts of what was then called Indochina. The Japanese military used Tan Son Nhut as a staging platform for their Southeast Asian operations during the war. In 1945, the facility returned to primarily civilian use. Eight years later, with the surge of communist invasions from the north, the French expanded the facility and used it to launch military strikes. In 1957, American Air Force personnel were sent from Clark Air Force base to Tan Son Nhut to further enlarge the base and then it became the home for the South Vietnamese Air Force. As the war increased in size and scope, the base continued to grow as well.

  The area Nemo and his handler were assigned to patrol was flat and open. There were long rows of barracks, a main control tower, hangars for equipment storage and repair, workshops, rows and rows of large fuel tanks, several runways, bunkers, and, as a sign of the brutality of war, a building filled with empty coffins. With its scores of fighter jets, bombers, hundreds of trucks and jeeps, as well as thousands of men, the base was an inviting target. What made the temptation even greater were the hundreds of flights that came and went on a daily basis. By inflicting damage on Tan Son Nhut, the Vietcong would severely damage the Americans’ ability to strike.

  Because of the liquid nature of the war, sentry dogs were vital in Vietnam. Friends during the day were often the enemies at night. There were no traditional fronts to point to and lock down but rather a never-ending series of guerilla raids that inflicted damage followed by quick retreats. It was a deadly kind of shadow-boxing but in this case the blows landed could be fatal. And because of the advent of television news, the images of the war were being broadcast into American homes each night, and over time those scenes of death and destruction were making a huge impact.

  By 1966, the war was causing political chaos at home and creating great divisions across the country. The antiwar movement was rapidly escalating and protests were popping up on college campuses and in city squares. Through no fault of their own, those seeking to serve their nation were often cloaked in a cloud of suspicion. Hence, morale, which was always hard to maintain in combat situations, was made even more difficult in Vietnam. But when you were drafted, you served. That was true of men and canines.

  Sentry dogs were first used in large numbers beginning in World War II. Initially they were employed to protect entry points or patrol around munitions or bases. In times their roles expanded beyond the assigned territory and into the field to seek out the enemy before it could attack. In Vietnam, a war that didn’t fit any of the conventional profiles, dogs became indispensable because of their ability to actually sense a silent enemy as it approached.

  One of the reasons Nemo had been brought to Vietnam was the tenacity he showed in training. In each of the trials he was both eager and fearless. Dogs that embraced this type of focus and courage were called “guided muzzles.” Like a heat-seeking rocket, the dog’s nose was always pointing to the spots where the enemy was or had been just a few minutes before. In that way he was warding off trouble even before it happened. Yet as valuable as the sentry dog was, his handler was the key to making a “guided muzzle” work.

  Bryant understood Nemo as well as he did any person. He could read what the dog was thinking based on the way the German shepherd moved. A slowing of the pace, a lean into the body, a cocking of the head—all things most would not notice—Bryant picked up on. The chemistry in this pairing was unique and invaluable and Bryant’s faith in the dog grew to the point that if Nemo stopped, the man never urged him forward. Even before Nemo pointed to the spot where an enemy was hiding, the trainer would signal to the men that were following that something was just not right. If there was not a team patrolling with Bryant, he would use his walkie-talkie to call Central Security Control (CSC) and let them know Nemo seemed to be picking up on something and to have the men ready for action. Yet, as per rules, no one jumped in to assist the dog and handler until Nemo had actually spotted and exposed the Vietcong. Thus, to keep the pair from becoming easy targets the dog had to be able to pierce the darkness and “see” danger when a human could not.

  Much like York, a decorated hero dog that served in Korea, Nemo didn’t rely on just one sense. He used sight, smell, and hearing without favoring one over the other as most dogs naturally did. The German shepherd’s ability to observe and process was so refined that he fully understood when things were normal and when they were just a degree or two off.

  For six months the team spotted potential attackers and stopped a number of assaults before they could begin. Thus, Bryant and Nemo were often cited as being one of the best combinations of dog and man in the Air Force. In July, when Bryant’s tour of duty was up and he was transferred back to the United States, a twenty-two-year-old Airman Second Class was assigned to Nemo. For the next couple of months, as they trained and patrolled together, Robert Thorneburg and Nemo would slowly develop the skills needed for each to read the other’s thoughts a
nd movement. By autumn the new pairing seemed to have come to the level exhibited by Nemo and Bryant.

  As November rolled into December, the bustling base embraced the upcoming holidays. Decorations went up in the mess hall and at local bars. Christmas presents sent from home began to arrive in the mail. Holiday standards were played on the Armed Forces Radio Network and talk turned to memories from the past or the sadness of not being home with family. In a sense it was a bittersweet time when homesickness dug its way into the heart of every man on the base. So there were moments when even hardened soldiers and airmen could lose their focus.

  December 3 began as a typical day in Southeast Asia, and nothing about it bore any resemblance to the scenes shown on the greeting cards those stationed at the base were getting from home. For most of the day the war seemed miles away. Planes and helicopters were taking off and landing without incident, wounded from other parts of the country were being brought in for medical attention, but locally there were no bullets flying. At least in one small corner of the world there seemed to be a bit of peace on earth. That was to change just after dark.

  With no warning, a large force of Vietcong commandos made a quick approach through a rarely used area around the outside of the base. The undetected enemy was able to cut fences and make its way through the perimeter without a shot being fired. Their objective was to inflict as much damage as possible at the base and then leave the same way they had entered. The Vietcong were so well prepared and trained that they knew their only hope of completing the mission and escaping was by taking down the base’s canine corps. As they moved forward in the shadows they kept their eyes open for the dog teams. As soon as a dog was spotted, they fired. Within minutes they’d put three teams out of commission without an alarm being sounded and by using only minimal gunfire.