Everyone else took their cues from Hulk. Among the handlers, he was the alpha dog. So no one gave me any more grief about leaving Loki in the kennels that night.
But the thought nagged at me as I lay alone on my rack, listening to the snoring marines and the snoring dogs beside them. Loki was supposed to go in front to find explosives and to save marines’ lives. If I treated him like my pet, I’d be scared to put him out front, to put him in danger. I could never send Baxter or TJ out to find a hidden bomb. I didn’t want Loki to sleep next to me because I didn’t want to care about him too much. He’d be just another thing to miss when he was gone.
I needed to stay cold. Ice cold. Like a warrior should be.
As training went on, we learned how to control our dogs not just with our voices but with simple hand gestures too. As Gunny explained, sometimes, during a firefight, they wouldn’t be able to hear us. Or, if we were sneaking around, we wouldn’t be able to call orders out loud to them.
The dogs practiced fetching all kinds of different objects, and we’d reward them with treats or with their Kong toys. Loki couldn’t get enough of his. All I had to do was give him a flash of the red rubber toy in my hand and he’d immediately get to attention, ready to seek out whatever I’d set for him.
By the last week of training, we were at the top of the class. All over the base, the instructors hid samples of explosives like we might face overseas, buried in the dirt, concealed inside garbage, or underneath food piles.
Loki never missed.
They fired off air cannons or shot M16 blanks to simulate the noises of battle.
Loki never flinched.
On graduation day, Gunny and Jeff were happy to certify every dog team in our class to head out for the next step of combat training over in California.
Every team except me and Loki.
I didn’t understand. Loki might have been a stubborn dog, but he was also one heck of a marine. Was it my fault? Had I not been good enough?
Gunny called us into his office. I stood at attention with Loki sitting by my heels.
“I have orders for you to deploy directly to COP Eliopulos,” Gunny told me. COP stands for combat outpost, small bases that the marines set up to send patrols from and to keep areas secure. A lot of the time, guys just called these outposts OP. The combat part was assumed, it being a war and all. The outposts were usually in pretty remote places and didn’t have all the nice stuff that the bigger bases would have, like air conditioning or running water.
“Eliopulos, sir?” I asked. I hadn’t heard of that base, but of course I knew the name.
“Eastern Afghanistan,” he said. “The Four-Four Marines just built it to secure a river valley near the border with Pakistan. They named it after a corporal they lost.”
“He was Loki’s first handler,” I explained.
Gunny nodded.
“They need a dog team ASAP,” Gunny said. “Every patrol they send out has been hit with IEDs, and the whole region is short on dogs right now. With Loki’s experience and your work ethic, I think you’d be a good fit, but you’d be deploying on your own into an established infantry unit. I get to pick the marine to go. You up for it?”
“Absolutely, Gunny,” I told him. “I’m ready to get in the fight.”
“Well you’ll get your chance. I’m proud of you, Corporal. You and your dog are becoming a hell of a team.”
“Thank you, Gunnery Sergeant.”
Loki sniffed at the air, and it looked almost like he was lifting his head high. Could a dog feel proud?
“You’re from Baltimore, that correct?”
“Just outside the city.”
“You need some R&R time to go home, say good-bye to the family?”
“No, thank you, Gunny,” I said without even thinking about it.
Gunny raised his eyebrows at me a moment. Then he nodded. “The kennel supervisor will get you all the dog supplies you need.”
As I turned to leave, Gunny called back to me. “When you get to the ’Stan, remember what I told you about asking for help, Dempsey. Count on your marines just like they count on you.”
“Oo-rah,” I told him, and he dismissed me to start packing for Afghanistan.
Loki and I had our orders.
We were going to war.
“Is this OP Eliopulos?” I shouted over the roar of the Phrog, after we landed with a thump on a dark patch of mountain. The pilot had left the double rotors of the helicopter spinning, and no one could hear what I was asking. The other marines on board turned to me, saw my mouth moving, looked at the dog crate and the duffel bag next to me, and shrugged.
The Phrog is a great helicopter, in use since the early 1960s to take marines almost anywhere in almost any weather. On the metal beam next to my head, someone had scrawled graffiti that read: Never trust an aircraft under thirty. The problem was, these old choppers were really loud.
The back ramp opened and guys started pulling out supplies: boxes of ammo, cases of MREs — meals ready to eat — and giant wire frames called HESCOs that would be filled with dirt and used to create bulletproof, bombproof walls. I groaned at the thought that I, as the new guy, might be the one with the shovel filling them.
Of course, I still didn’t know if I was in the right place. I’d been traveling for almost a week to get to the outpost. I had to fly on a normal airplane to Europe, and then take a military jet to the big base at Camp Leatherneck, and then I had to wait around for two days, trying to keep Loki busy, until the weather cleared in the mountains and a helicopter made a supply run to a few of the outposts near the border. It wasn’t like riding the bus. There were no signs telling me if this was my stop.
“Eliopulos?” I yelled at the crew chief, who was trying to get the marines from the base to unload all the cargo faster so the Phrog could take off again. They landed at night because it was harder for enemy snipers to shoot down the helicopters.
Harder, but not impossible.
The crew chief sort of nodded. It seemed like a yes, so I grabbed my duffel and threw it to the dirt.
The other marines didn’t even look my way. They just carried their supplies across the small LZ — that’s military elf for landing zone — and down some rough steps carved into the dirt. They vanished into a bunker and didn’t reappear.
I hauled Loki’s big crate off the helicopter, and the crew chief stuck his finger in the air and made a twirling motion. He stepped up on the ramp, which wasn’t even closed as they took off again, veering hard sideways toward the next outpost farther down the valley.
I was left on the landing pad, listening to the whapping sound of the helicopter’s blades fade away. The mountain air was so cold, I could see my breath. I heard Loki whine in his crate.
I took off my helmet and bent down to offer him some comforting words. He was shivering inside the crate. A shiver ran through my body too, but not because of the cold. I really hoped this was the right place.
We were alone on top of a mountain in a far corner of Afghanistan and I had no idea where we were or if anyone was waiting for us. It felt eerie, like I’d wandered into school on a Sunday. Everything looked just like a military outpost should, but there were no people around to make the place feel right.
“You the IDD team?” someone called out to me, a head popping up over the edge of the landing zone from the dirt steps into the trench below. He was wearing a knit watch cap but no shirt. He had a broad chest with a nasty scar wrapped all the way around it, like someone had taken a giant can opener to him.
“Corporal Gus Dempsey,” I said, not sure if I should salute or not. I didn’t even know if I was talking to an officer.
“Well you better get down here before some goat herder decides to take a shot at you,” the guy told me.
I looked to the mountains and thought about snipers watching me through their rifle sights. I knew dog teams were a target for the bad guys. I quickly put my helmet back on, grabbed my duffel, and dragged Loki in his crate toward the stairs
. I didn’t want to let him out where “some goat herder” could take a shot at him. I hadn’t even realized we were at war with goat herders.
When I reached the steps, the guy stepped back, letting me haul my gear and the crate into the narrow fortified trench at the bottom of the steps. He led me straight into a small bunker, where he had a radio set up on a little wooden table with an M16 leaning against it. An opening on the other side led to the rest of the outpost.
“This OP Eliopulos?” I confirmed, hoping I was in the right place. I didn’t want to be stuck here waiting for a helicopter to come back.
“Is that where we are?” the guy said. “No wonder room service has been so bad. I haven’t gotten a chocolate on my pillow yet!”
Everyone’s a comedian, I thought.
“Corporal Gus Dempsey and Military Working Dog Loki reporting for duty,” I said, trying to sound official so maybe he’d tell me where I was supposed to go and what I was supposed to do.
“Oh mercy!” He suddenly smiled wide, his teeth lighting up bright white against the darkness. “O.G. Loki in da house!”
He bent down and put his fingers right through the mesh of the crate. “Why didn’t you say you had the O.G. wit’ you?”
“Careful,” I warned. “Loki doesn’t like it when strangers —” Loki was already licking the marine’s fingers and going crazy, whining to be let out. I could see his eyes shining up at me like black marbles, pleading to play.
“Oh, O.G. and I go way back,” the marine said. “Original Gangsta!” he laughed. “Who you think scratched out the D on your crate?”
“You?” I tried.
“Douglass,” he said. “Private Lincoln Douglass.”
“Like Abraham Lincoln and —?”
“Yeah, Frederick Douglass,” he said. “My mom’s a history teacher. It just worked out that way. Now let me see my boy here.”
I opened up the crate and Loki jumped right on top of Private Douglass, pushing him back against the wall of sandbags and smothering him with licks. He’d never kissed me like that. I guess I had never let him.
“Okay, Loki. Out,” I said.
Loki looked back at me like I’d just ordered him to fly a helicopter. It was a look that said, I understand you, but it ain’t gonna happen. He turned back and started licking Private Douglass again.
“Loki!” I snapped. “Out!”
Loki slowly climbed off Douglass and sat down next to me, his ears pinned back, his tail tucked, his expression pitiful. Douglass looked up at me with about the same expression. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t shivering without a shirt on. It had to be below freezing out here.
“Guess we better go see Lieutenant Schu,” he said. He gave me a look up and down, taking in my uniform, my stance, my gear — everything regulation, every bit squared away. I could tell what he was thinking. I’d seen the look before. “That’s Lieutenant Schumacher,” he clarified, leading me through the bunker to the rest of the base.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I began to take in my new home for the next six months. Outpost Eliopulos was a collection of bunkers, tents, sandbags, and razor wire stretched up the side of a medium-sized mountain on the edge of a river valley. The helicopter pad with the trench around it sat at the lowest point of the base, which rose from there, up the steep slopes — so steep in places that the marines had tied guide ropes to hold on to.
Nearest to the LZ was the medical tent. A mess tent for preparing hot meals once a week was just up from there, and then there were a few brick barracks dug into the dirt. Beyond them was a maze of sandbags, leading to bunkers with good views of the valley below. Machine gun and mortar positions, mostly. Camouflage netting was strung every which way, to make the exact layout of the base harder to see from a distance.
Inside the bunkers, I could make out the shapes of the marines on watch, lying at their guns, staring into the dark.
“That the dog team?” someone whispered.
“Forget the dog,” someone else responded. “Did they bring my Twinkies in on that bird?”
“I look like your mailman, Chang?” Douglass responded. “And yeah, it’s the dog team. O.G. himself!”
“Loki!” the guy named Chang whisper-shouted and scurried down the slope toward us. Loki’s tail started wagging and he licked his lips, dancing from paw to paw, like he was about to give Chang the same treatment he’d given Douglass. I tightened his leash.
“Sit,” I commanded. He whimpered and sat, then popped up again the moment his butt touched the earth. He dove for Chang, but I held him back. He wasn’t the unit pet.
Chang stopped short and looked at me for the first time. I saw his eyes dart over to Douglass before he made eye contact with me.
“I don’t want to overexcite Loki,” I explained to him, but he could tell that I was just being strict.
“Well, at least someone’s excited,” Chang said. “I’m bored out of my mind tonight. Nothing’s happened for days. I really miss the sound of a machine gun fired in anger.”
“Hey, Chang!” the other voice from the bunker called down to us. “Get back up here. You can say hi to your girlfriend later.”
Chang shook his head. “Later, dog team,” he said and scrambled back up the slope to his gun position.
“Come on,” Douglass said, leading me farther up the slope. We approached a plywood building with netting strung over the door. A dim light peeked out from behind the plywood door, which was probably why the netting was hung. Wouldn’t want enemy mortar teams locking in on a night-light and blowing the whole building away.
“Looks like Lieutenant Schu’s awake.” Douglass pointed. “Welcome to OPE.”
He turned and strolled back down the hill toward the LZ bunker, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Loki looked up at me, questioning. I couldn’t tell if he wondered why we were still out in the cold, or why I wasn’t letting him play with his old friends.
In training, I’d learned to read his body language during a search, but standing on a freezing mountaintop outside company headquarters, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Here we go, boy,” I told him. “Make me proud.”
As we approached the door, my boot brushed against some bottle caps hanging on a string, which made a tinkling sound. The door opened to reveal Lieutenant Schumacher, a skinny marine with a shiny silver bar on his collar. He had close-cropped blond hair and dark circles under his eyes. Behind him, against the far wall of the room, a beefy staff sergeant leaned over a table, studying a map. Lieutenant Schumacher stared at me a moment in the dark, his face grim, revealing nothing, waiting for me to get down to business. I liked him immediately.
“Corporal Dempsey and Military Working Dog Loki reporting as ordered, sir.” I saluted him.
He cracked a smile.
“Loki’s back?” He looked down at my dog but didn’t move to pet him. He just nodded and invited us in the headquarters building. “Staff Sergeant Luken,” he said, introducing me to the big guy standing over the map. “We sure are glad to see you two. We’ve been hurting out here for a dog team. Every patrol we send out gets hit with IEDs, and we’ve got reports of all the other companies in the region saying the same thing. If you’re up for it, we’ll get you out on patrol first thing in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Can’t wait.”
“We’re a small company, you’ll find, but fierce. Everyone pulls his weight on this hill, myself included. We all get patrols. We all get watch duty, and we all clean the latrines. I’ll keep your rotation as light as I can, so you’ll have time to train with your dog, but we’ve got enemy fighters all over this valley and more slipping in over the border every day, so there’s a lot of work to do.”
“Oo-rah,” I said.
“That’s what I like to hear,” the lieutenant nodded. “Staff Sergeant Luken will get you squared away in the barracks, and we’ll see you here at oh-five-hundred.”
; Great, I thought. I’ll get three hours of sleep if I’m lucky.
“And Loki?” I asked.
Lieutenant Schumacher stared at me. “What about him?” he finally asked.
“Where will he sleep?” I asked. “Where’s the kennel?”
Staff Sergeant Luken laughed behind the lieutenant.
“Hate to break it to you, Corporal, but you aren’t at Camp Leatherneck and you aren’t at Club Med. We’ve got no kennel here. You bunk with your dog.”
“Sir, respectfully, IDD dogs and handlers are not supposed to bunk together.” I considered whether I should explain to him the dangers of treating a military working dog like a pet.
“Our previous handler had no problem with it,” Lieutenant Schumacher said.
“Yes, but I’ve noticed that Loki has many bad habits acquired from the previous handler …” I stopped myself.
Staff Sergeant Luken was staring me down.
Lieutenant Schumacher looked like he’d just eaten a raw onion.
Eliopulos had trained with this company, served with this company, and died fighting with them. He was Lieutenant Schumacher’s marine, and here I was, the new guy, insulting his memory, saying he’d given his dog bad habits. That’s why I hated trying to explain myself. I was no good at talking.
Any good feelings the lieutenant had for me were gone. First impressions were hard to undo. So far, I’d been at the outpost for less than an hour, and I’d earned the dislike of at least two grunts, the staff sergeant, and my commanding officer.
Only one hundred and eighty days to go.
“You bunk with your dog,” Lieutenant Schumacher repeated, and he nodded at the staff sergeant to show me my bunker. “See you at oh-five-hundred.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and followed the staff sergeant with Loki at my heel. He didn’t move with his usual bounce. His head hung low and his ears sagged. I guess my embarrassment traveled down-leash to him.
I hoped we could redeem ourselves in the morning on our first combat patrol.
The staff sergeant didn’t talk as he led Loki and me to the narrow brick building wedged into the mountainside that we were supposed to call home for the next six months.
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