When he was off harness Buster was literally the best friend of every Brit in the region and was showered with treats and hugs. One of the most positive things about life on the front lines in a modern war was that members of the military had much greater access to almost instant communication with family members back home. Via Wi-Fi they could make calls home, have video chats, and share photos on a regular basis. So in the most dangerous regions of Afghanistan, a place where death was always a misstep away, members of the military began to line up in order to have their pictures made with the springer spaniel before racing to call home and share the story of the unit’s MVP. For just doing his job, Buster’s story was being shared by thousands in the UK.
The fact that the RAF was now much more successful in finding IEDs was not lost on the Taliban. Intelligence reports indicated the rebels had placed a price on Buster’s head. With this in mind, Barrow soon became more concerned about the dog being shot than stepping on an explosive. Yet as Buster was so low to the ground and there were so few places for snipers to hide in the open desert, the task of taking him out was all but impossible. The few times the Taliban tried, Buster somehow sensed their presence and alerted the unit. So the springer was not only good at saving the lives of men, he was pretty good at protecting his own skin too.
Beyond finding IEDs, Buster also served as a roadside inspector. The RAF stopped and searched all vehicles they believed might be hiding bombs or weapons. Through visual inspections the soldiers usually found guns, but with Buster in charge the unit found many more. No matter if they were hidden in wheel wells, in the seats, under the chassis, or in fake gas tanks, the springer was able to pinpoint their location. This led to scores of what seemed to be simple herders or local businessmen being outed as members of the deadly Taliban.
Life in the Afghan desert was likely much harder on Buster than on the soldiers no matter how well he served. The environment was scorching, dry, and unpredictable. While the days could be unbearably hot, the nights were often icy cold. Worse yet, a friend you bought goods from one day might be the rebel trying to take you out the next. Working long hours in these conditions was hard on Buster’s feet and skin, but unlike so many other dogs that lost focus due to fatigue or pain, the springer’s passion for his job never seemed to flag. He was always ready for action and never shrank from duty. He toiled diligently long after men dropped down on a knee to rest.
While in the field, Buster developed a unique way of alerting Barrow of a potential IED. Rather than just hold position and stare at the ground, the dog created a trademark move. Whenever spotting an explosive, he danced. Buster’s jig, as it was soon called, became the most welcome sight on the desert landscape. Each dance meant that another life had been saved.
One of the Taliban’s strongholds was along the Helmand River. This was poppy country and the opium made from the plant helped finance rebel operations. So it was in this area where Buster was most needed and where his skills proved invaluable. Day after day he located IEDs that were then defused. At checkpoints the dog also caught men transporting hidden weapons purchased through opium sales. As he constantly shifted from one role to the other he never missed a beat or became distracted. Yet there was something more the dog did that made the British soldier’s job much easier. Buster was a natural charmer.
When Barrow visited local villages to search for IEDs and hidden weapon caches, the dog’s friendly nature made him an amazing and charismatic ambassador. Though the local kids were usually scared of the German shepherds and Labs used by the military, the springer evoked no sense of fear. In fact, kids rushed up to the dog whenever he appeared. During breaks, when Buster was off harness, they even played with him. Thus, the dog became the RAF’s most effective public relations tool. Officers encouraged Barrow to allow Buster to work his charms as much as possible. The trainer only drew the line at one thing: treats. As the Taliban had placed a price on the sniffer’s head, Buster’s food was strictly limited to RAF-issued chow.
From the poppy fields Buster and Barrow were transferred to duty in Kabul. The capital city had become a hotbed for terrorist operations. As the springer was now recognized as the best explosive detector in the RAF, he was assigned to patrol the most dangerous urban areas. There his value was proved once more as he found numerous weapons and hidden bomb-making facilities. During much of the day, when he wasn’t sleeping, Buster was cozying up to locals. He was likely the first English springer spaniel ever seen by the citizens of Kabul and for that reason became a rock star. Whenever he walked down the street scores came out to see him. And, as the language didn’t matter in this kind of dog-human interaction, Buster began to serve as a translator of goodwill.
While in the city Buster worked with Americans for the first time. Initially the Yanks, as the RAF called them, were skeptical of the dog’s ability to sense IEDs and weapons stores. On the first joint patrol, when Buster danced in an area that had already been marked safe, the impatient Americans tried to ignore the dog’s warning and march on toward a suspected Taliban location. Barrow insisted they wait until a bomb detection unit arrived. The experts discovered the IED that had been previously missed and Buster had found what would have likely killed scores. From that point forward the Yanks requested that, whenever it was possible, the British dog accompany them on their patrols.
After hundreds of successful missions, Barrow and Buster were ordered back to England in 2008. After just a short time on friendly soil, the RAF decided the dog was needed back in Afghanistan. So he and Barrow returned to a warzone that was just as filled with danger as it had been a year before. For six months Buster’s perfect record was held intact. It was then decided the dog would be shipped to Iraq where IEDs were being used even more effectively than in Afghanistan. As Barrow’s time in the military was now up, Buster was assigned to a new handler. The man and dog’s final goodbyes brought even hardened soldiers to tears. Yet just as Lyons had once given Buster up, now Barrow displayed his loyalty to country over his bond with the dog.
In 2009, Iraq was likely more dangerous than it had been seven years before. Though hidden among the masses, terrorists were everywhere. Without warning, snipers picked off members of the United Nations coalition. Even more frightening, suicide bombers were able to sneak explosives into highly populated areas by hiding them under clothes. Along with civilians, dogs and handlers had been killed when these bombers were discovered too late. Therefore, Buster was needed to dance his jig before the suicide bombers could reach their destinations. By pointing out human bombers and finding scores of IEDs, Buster’s record remained perfect. The dog was seen as so valuable that he would be the final British canine to leave the warzone.
Buster remained with the RAF until 2011. During that time he was awarded the highest honor ever received by a British dog. He was also made the symbol of the RAF Canine Police unit. Upon his discharge Buster was then reunited with Will Barrow. For the final two years of his life Buster would be a family pet.
Unlike most other dogs from previous wars, Buster represented a new type of canine warrior that did his job so well it looked routine. While in the past, dogs had raced through gunfire or jumped on explosives to save their handlers or their units, Buster had saved more soldiers than any other dog in recorded history by simply doing his job better than any of his canine peers. Buster is therefore the model for a new kind of military dog: one that because of intense training can accomplish things even the latest developments in technology cannot equal. And this English springer spaniel did it so easily that it would be only after he finished each of his jobs that soldiers realized they owed their lives to Buster.
THIRTEEN
SACRIFICE
Love is sacrifice.
—David Oyelowo
Across the globe people know the physical and mental strengths of the German shepherd, but for most the Belgian Malinois does not conjure up a specific image. Slightly smaller than the shepherd, the Malinois is an old breed that has historically been u
sed in herding and guard work on farms. In 2004, a litter of puppies was born in the Netherlands as a result of the breeder intentionally mating a German shepherd with a Belgian Malinois in an attempt to create the perfect canine for military and police use. Because of the Malinois’s remarkable vision and loyalty, the breeder sensed that these traits, when combined with the German shepherd’s intelligence, strength, and power would produce a superdog. In at least one case it did.
One of those most interested in testing the shepherd-Malinois pups in a working environment was a nation far removed from the Netherlands. The Israel Defense Force employed dogs for sniffing out bombs, working at checkpoints, and searching for fugitives. The pup they imported to the Middle East from the Netherlands was a female that likely would have been good at any of those things if she had been trained. Yet over the first two years of her life, Lucca was fed and groomed but otherwise forgotten. It would take the vision of a man from a third country to finally realize the breeder had indeed produced the perfect soldier.
Because of the dramatic change in the world climate after the September 11 attack by terrorists on New York and Washington, DC, the United States Marines had beefed up their use of dogs. When the war in Iraq was declared, thousands of canines were purchased and readied for combat missions. This need for military dogs became so great the Marines even contacted breeders across the globe. When it was discovered that the Israel Defense Force had a number of dogs they were not using, the US military sent some of its top trainers to the Middle East to examine the stock. Little did those giving the orders for this mission realize their decision would lead to saving thousands of lives.
On April 23, 2006, US Marine Staff Sergeant Chris Willingham flew into Israel as a part of a dog evaluation team. A good-looking man, with kind eyes, a firm jaw, and a rock-solid body, Willingham went into this assignment with mixed emotions. He had a family back in the States that he missed terribly and the last thing he wanted was to be away from those he dearly loved. Yet, Willingham was also a person committed to duty. He was a career soldier and when his country called, he didn’t question the assignment. Thus, though there were other places he would rather have been, the marine was still willing to get to work checking out the potential of this new crop of dogs.
To the trained military handler a dog’s value was measured by what the animal could do in battle conditions. Thus, to be a marine, the dog had to possess all the traits the corps demanded of its men. So Willingham had to carefully gauge each dog’s temperament, intelligence, instincts, and courage. If he chose the wrong dog, human lives would surely be lost.
As he studied the canines in the Israel Defense Force kennels, Willingham was first impressed with Lucca’s appearance. The two-year-old dog might have been a mix between German shepherd and Belgian Malinois, but from her eyes to her ears, she looked like a German shepherd. She also carried herself like Rin Tin Tin or the legendary Strongheart. It was easy to see as she pranced in her pen that Lucca was strong and eager. Her eyes were expressive, and her movement displayed both power and grace. Yet Willingham would soon discover she was also like a rebellious teenager. She fought the leash, refused to respond to even the most basic commands, and was more interested in play than education. When the American asked the men who were in the Israel Defense Force what he needed to do to get their dog to follow directions, they smiled and suggested she might need to be trained.
It seemed that since Lucca’s birth she had been all but ignored. She hadn’t received even the most basic training. The question became, could Willingham take this ignorant creature, gain her trust, and get her focused enough to learn what was necessary for use by the military? Over the next few weeks, he made it his mission to find out.
There is a time-honored saying, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” and while this is far from true, it is a fact that devoting a great deal of time to a dog that has not received any training is a risk. So much had been lost in Lucca’s first two years that she might now resist the attempts at education, never gain the discipline needed for combat duty, or just quickly lose interest in working. Yet, Willingham saw something in Lucca’s dark brown eyes that convinced him the beautiful creature wanted to learn. So he took the chance.
Lucca had likely never before seen a human as anything other than a source of food. She had rarely been played with or shown much attention or love. Thus, when Willingham petted her, she ate it up. When he brushed her, she went crazy. When he hand-fed her, letting her lick his fingers, she all but squealed in delight. Within two weeks their bond was so complete that Lucca was literally the man’s shadow.
As a reward for doing basic obedience work, Willingham gave the dog a hard, rubber dog toy called a Kong. Shaped like the Michelin Man, one end made noise and the other end offered a chance for the dog to chew until she got tired. Lucca loved to chase her Kong, fetch it, toss it up in the air, and catch it. She grew so attached to the toy she would quit eating each time Willingham produced it. Thus, the toy became the reward for every new thing Lucca learned. It was the ultimate training tool.
During their time in Israel, Lucca proved herself not just an eager student, but the most intelligent dog the trainer had ever worked with. In spite of being ignored for two years, she also quickly gained the discipline to follow every command on lead and off. A subtle look and she stopped, another and she went forward, a signal or a voice command and she moved left or right. She even learned how to back up. She mastered basic tasks in hours not days and developed a full understanding of complex commands in weeks.
With the basic skills mastered to the point they were now more reactions than following orders, Willingham moved to what was intended as the dog’s real job. This would be the training period that decided if Lucca was sharp enough to serve in the Marines or would return to live out her life in an Israeli kennel.
Three years before, Army Private Jeremiah D. Smith became the first American killed when his vehicle hit an IED (improvised explosive device). Smith’s death was a sober introduction to a new form of warfare. Since that time, scores of other soldiers had died the same way and thousands more had been disabled for life. After trying human spotters and metal detectors, the Marines discovered that the most effective way of uncovering IEDs was using dogs as sniffers. If Lucca could master this skill she would earn her stripes.
Knowing the price American military men and women were paying in Iraq, Willingham pushed Lucca far beyond normal military dog training. He had to. IEDs were growing more sophisticated with each passing month, so soldiers’ lives depended on the canines finding these hidden bombs before a soldier stepped on one.
From that point forward, Lucca had to be completely focused on her job. When working she couldn’t relax for even an instant. Lucca was worked day and night as she learned the smells associated with bombs and weapons she had to identify and uncover. If she missed even one of the places Willingham had placed the scents, if she failed to find a gun or a weapon on a truck or hidden in a structure, she had to repeat the task again and again. She would not get to play with her Kong until she had mastered each new exercise. After a couple of months of intense work, and Lucca passing test after test, Willingham had complete trust in the dog and her abilities. With one phase of training completed, he snapped on Lucca’s lead and boarded a plane to the United States.
At Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas, Lucca was officially inducted into the United States Marine Corps. She was then given her dog ID, K458, which was tattooed into her ear. After going through a battery of health tests and being spayed, she and her trainer hopped onto another airplane to the Yuma Proving Grounds. In this hot American desert, the dog would be exposed to conditions much like she would find in Iraq. How she performed here would determine her next assignment.
Rudd Weatherwax, the famous Hollywood dog trainer who gave the world Lassie, once noted that the dogs he used in movies had to have a lot more education than a pet. His dogs thus went through the canine equivalent of grad
e school, junior high, high school, and college before being placed on a TV or movie set. Though different skills are taught, most military dogs received about the same amount of training as Weatherwax gave his canine actors. Yet because so many lives depended on how Lucca worked in combat situations, Willingham took his dog partner much further. By the time he was finished, the Netherlands-born canine had earned not just her stripes but the equivalent of a PhD. She was literally the top dog in her class.
In 2007, Lucca returned to the Middle East as a much different animal than when she’d lived in Israel. As a marine she was now an instrument of war. Her task would be to sniff out enemy weapons, and Willingham was almost sure she was ready to fulfill that task. Yet he couldn’t have complete faith in his dog until she was placed into real action. Missing a smell in training meant she wouldn’t get to play with her favorite toy. Missing an IED in Iraq meant that she and those around her would likely die. So a lot was riding on this man’s ability to train his dog.
Though they had dealt with hot days in Arizona, the heat in Baghdad was like nothing the dog or man had ever experienced. Stationed at Camp Slayer, the dog team faced days when it felt like 140 degrees. On top of that, the terrain was bleak and the mission convoluted. This was now a war with no rules or uniforms. The enemy was made up of hidden bands of terrorists who looked no different from the people who shopped in markets, ate in local cafés, or delivered goods to the camp. You simply couldn’t tell friend from foe.
Iraq was also strained by ancient tribal rivalries. These groups had been somewhat united and restrained under the past leadership but were now fighting for spots in the new government, military, and society. The landscape changed on a daily basis as to who had the advantage in each of these areas. The only sure thing was that Iraq was not a safe place for Americans.
In the Line of Fire Page 17