by Mike Ritland
Dwayne saw a small package under the frame’s top tube that supported the gas tank and the seat. He called the EOD guy over, who normally walked right alongside him and the dog. “He wanded it, and then the point man came up behind us. We could all see something was there. The EOD man got the package out of there, and he discovered a dozen or so rounds of ammo,” Dwayne explained. “The package was wrapped up in feet and feet of something like duct tape. It was all wound into this very intricate pattern, almost like it was woven. Obviously, whoever had done that didn’t want to have ready access to it, but they also really didn’t want anybody else to know what was in there. In terms of its potential threat to our safety, that package posed minimal danger. Sure, those rounds could have been used against us, but nothing was rigged to explode.”
The important and somewhat impressive part of this is that at a distance of more than 100 yards, through a mixed-odor vapor of petroleum and gasoline, and shifting winds and swirling dust and packing that may or may not have been designed to contain that explosive odor, Rex had discovered it. In the early days of deployment of Navy SEAL dogs, this was very good work. As someone who’s very experienced in working with the kinds of multipurpose dogs the SEALs use, I wouldn’t get knocked off my chair by news like that if it happened today. Sure, I’d be pleased, but my more measured response would be due to the fact that I’ve seen and experienced much more. That’s not to take anything away from the work Rex did that day. It was important, and sometimes timing is everything.
The other members of the SEAL team were impressed by Rex’s find, and as Dwayne recalled, it helped him earn his credibility with the team.
* * *
Rex was only deployed that one time. A change in trainers and protocols meant that in the eyes of those newly in charge, he wasn’t as well suited for the tasks in the field as they would like. Dwayne would have loved to adopt Rex as a pet, but the navy donated him to the San Diego County Sheriff’s Office, where he is still at work. “It would have been easy to be bitter or selfish,” Dwayne said to me. “I still miss Rex, but knowing that he’s still working, doing what he was bred to do and wants to do, I have to put his needs ahead of mine.”
That statement exemplifies anyone who does service for their country. The pride in Dwayne’s voice was obvious when he told me one final story about Rex. “In one of his first patrols, he was with the sheriff on a call,” he recounted. “A perpetrator was holed up in an attic. From what I was told, he was a big guy, a former college football player or something. They sent Rex in there and he apprehended the guy. Rex got his bite, something all these dogs just love, and it was good to know that because of him, some officer didn’t have to go crawling into what could potentially be a very dangerous situation.”
Dwayne is on the verge of retirement. He plans to work as a civilian in dog training. “One of the things I really like about dogs is that they are honest,” he said. “They don’t ever try to deceive you, really. I laugh about this now, and I’m really very grateful those recruiters told me that I would have an easy time making the SEAL teams. One of the guys out of that office somehow remembered my name and tracked me down a while ago. He told me that of all the guys he showed that video to, of all the guys that he signed up, I was the only one to actually get through BUD/S. Imagine that. I always finish what I start eventually. It would be nice to finish up with Rex, but he’s still got plenty of work left to do. And I want him to finish what he started, too.”
15
PONCHO IN PURSUIT
Fallujah, Iraq
Poncho, his handler, and the other SOF team members were hunkered down on their recon and surveillance (R&S) operation. After the team had established 360° perimeter security, they took their positions, out of sight of any Iraqis that might pass through. They sat still and scanned the landscape that looked to the men like nothing so much as the surface of the moon. They were near the city of Fallujah, in an area that was considered to have a high potential for IED placement. They were waiting for any sign of enemy action.
A day into the operation, members of the SOF team observed a NATO vehicle on patrol in the area. As the NATO vehicle traveled along, members of the team also detected some movement just beyond a rocky outcropping about 200 yards away from the SOF team’s position. They knew that any time a Coalition Forces or NATO vehicle was in motion, it was vulnerable to attack by insurgents. The insurgents’ preferred method of attack was to use any of a variety of IEDs, including ones that needed a lookout to press the trigger when the target passed by the hidden explosives.
The movement the team had detected among the rocks was indeed one of those lookouts. Unfortunately the SOF team was not able to prevent him from detonating the IED, which decimated the NATO vehicle. It all happened very quickly, but they did see the insurgent run to a nearby moped, hop aboard, and speed away.
Poncho’s handler gave the dog the “Reviere” command, and Poncho lit out after the man and the moped. Even though it was a slow-moving vehicle, the guy had a head start on the dog of several hundred yards and was already out of weapons range due to the angle and elevation of the team’s position. Even if they could have gotten a good, clear shot, there was another complicating factor. As fluid as the rules of engagement tended to be, and as much as the team wanted to adhere to them, they were not 100 percent certain that the man on the moped was the same man who detonated the IED. Being 99 percent certain wasn’t enough to justify shooting him. Without Poncho being with them and on the chase, this would have turned into another case of a bad guy getting away.
Poncho soon ate up the distance between his original position and the fleeing insurgent. Ignoring the moped and focusing solely on the fact that something was moving at a high rate of speed that he was commanded to go get, Poncho dipped down a knoll and out of sight. The team mobilized and did a hasty leapfrog patrol in pursuit of the man, the dog, and the moped. They arrived at the top of the knoll just in time to see Poncho grab the insurgent by the back of the right calf, clamp on, put on his brakes, and pull the man from the moped, which cartwheeled a couple of times before coming to a stop. The team continued their pursuit while Poncho continued to hold on tightly to the screaming and dazed insurgent. The team rolled up on them and then apprehended and secured their prisoner after Poncho was released from his target. Poncho’s first reward of the day was getting to sink his teeth into the thing, in this case the person, he was told to catch. His second reward was a long tug-of-war session with “Dad,” his handler.
* * *
The man Poncho apprehended did have a trigger on him. He was detained, and under questioning he gave up some valuable intelligence information. He was also taken out of the conflict for the duration.
Poncho was able to catch the moped thanks to his maturity and athleticism. When he tore off after his target he was moving about 30-plus miles per hour. That was considerably faster than the moped, which was moving at around 18 miles per hour. Short of the team being able to stop the insurgent before the NATO convoy moved through the area and before the IED was detonated, this was the next best possible outcome.
The reality of the situation was that there were miles and miles of desolate roads with the potential for IEDs to be buried at any point along the way. In addition, in the crowded urban areas, there were the added threats of car bombs and sniper activity. It was impossible to always be in the right place at the right time to prevent the worst from happening.
This was early in 2007, when the use of IEDs by insurgents was at its height. During the three months prior to Poncho and his handler arriving in Fallujah, 257 Coalition soldiers had been killed by IEDs. Another 1,485 had been wounded. In many ways, the words “insurgency” and “IED” had become linked together in our minds. Outmanned and outsupplied, the insurgents relied on IEDs as inexpensive but very deadly ways to inflict both physical and mental damage on Coalition Forces.
The insurgents primarily used two methods to detonate their IEDs. The IEDs themselves ranged from a
ntitank rounds and 105 mm artillery shells they’d buried to home-made explosives, often made from ammonium nitrate. One kind of detonator was a pressure plate that was hidden with buried IEDs. The plates were sensitive enough that a human footstep could trigger the explosion. The other kind of detonator is a remote one, like the one the guy used to blow up the NATO patrol. Lookouts with remote detonators hide themselves in high places, where they have a good view of their target area and also a good chance to escape after the job is done. Poncho prevented that last part from happening.
Tensions were obviously high, and the operational tempo was essentially nonstop. As a community, counter-IED operations were of primary importance. Detecting IEDs was only one prong of the attack. Apprehending or neutralizing insurgents, dismantling IED bomb factory networks, and disrupting funding for those explosives-making operations were also a part of the all-encompassing approach to stopping IEDs. So Poncho and the team were not in the strictest sense conducting a routine clearing operation.
The team was made up of the officer in charge and his communications officer; these were two automatic weapons operators bearing M-60 auto machine guns firing 7.62 mm rounds. For extra security and to offer long-range protection for the point man and the handler and dog, two snipers rounded out the team. Unlike the other patrol operations that I’ve shared with you, these guys were tasked with holing up in a location where they could observe enemy action.
This kind of monitoring operation may sound far less taxing than a sweep covering dozens of miles, and that’s true in terms of footsteps walked. On the other hand, for a dog, inactivity—sitting still and quiet so as not to reveal the team’s position—is often more exhausting and difficult than walking a long way. These are high-energy dogs, and being asked to sit patiently, especially when geared up and seeing his handler and the other humans action-ready, is not something a dog is accustomed to or likes.
Fortunately, Poncho is one of the more laid-back dogs. He’s definitely not a spinner or a big barker when kenneled. His mellow personality and behavior make him ideally suited to this kind of operation, which generally lasts anywhere from thirty-six to forty-eight hours. For some dogs, an assault or raid—they go in, take names, come out—is better suited to their natures. Poncho is certainly capable of doing that type of operation, but he can also do this more measured kind of activity. He certainly proved he can switch, in an instant, from mellow to full throttle.
* * *
An interesting side note to this story: In March 2008 the number of IED incidents declined to 1,175 for the month. This number was down dramatically from a high of 2,612 in February of 2007. Along with that statistic is this one: By January 2008, the success rate of finding and clearing IEDs rose to a high of 69 percent. There are a lot of factors surrounding this positive trend, and I’m convinced that the use of canines in combat is one of them.
16
KWINTO’S NIGHTTIME RAIDS
Logar Province, Afghanistan
(between the cities of Kabul and Pul-i-Alam)
Despite Kwinto’s tendency to vocalize quite a bit, he kept silent as he and his handler went out on point. Along with the team behind them, they moved forward swiftly and silently to conduct a nighttime assault on an Afghani compound where, according to recent intelligence reports, the Taliban and its supporters had reestablished themselves. Though there was a quarter moon in the night sky, Kwinto’s tawny coat was less reflective than a blacker dog’s would have been.
As the patrol infiltrated farther into the compound, Kwinto frantically began to inhale and feather his tail, indicating that he was in odor. His handler stopped the patrol. All fifteen of the men ceased their forward movement. Based on Kwinto’s posture and orientation, the handler determined that the hit was directly in front of them, likely in a large culvert that directed the flow of water. Because this was a raid and not a clearing operation, they didn’t take the time to immediately substantiate that there was an explosive in that location. Instead, the decision was made to alter their route. No EOD personnel were along, which further justified the decision to simply mark and note the position and reroute.
The rerouting complete and the tactical infiltration to the set point done, Kwinto next led the team to the compound’s specified entry point. His handler released him, and Kwinto indicated once again that explosives were present, this time in the stone wall surrounding the compound. Kwinto returned to his handler, and the team moved to a second possible entry point. Kwinto was sent forward again. For the third time in less than an hour, he detected another possible source of explosives. The operators, already hypervigilant, realized that this was a raid that wasn’t going to go exactly as planned. Fortunately, they had Kwinto to make sure they didn’t make any wrong moves. It was if they were engaged in a high-stakes chess match, and before they committed to a move, Kwinto let them know if they’d made the best choice.
The third entry point was secured, and the team finally moved through the compound. It consisted of roughly a dozen and a half buildings. Besides the pale moon, no other light was present. They moved from building to building, from room to room, slowly and deliberately. An hour, and then another half an hour, passed. With just three buildings remaining, one of the team members detected a faint sound coming from an adjoining room. During these sweeps, Kwinto and his handler were not on point, so a signal was passed down the line to bring Kwinto forward. Once the target area’s location had been identified, Kwinto’s handler knelt alongside his canine charge, unclipped his leash, and gave Kwinto the search command. As soon as Kwinto came into that odor, he propelled himself into the room where the noise had been detected. An instant later, the sound of gunfire and a nearly inhuman scream broke the silence.
Inside the room, behind a chest-high pile of sandbags, in an excellent defensive position, a lone Taliban fighter was pinned into a corner of the room. Kwinto had the man grasped in his teeth, just below his left armpit. The man’s arm was completely immobilized, but he still had managed to fire off a couple of rounds, more out of reflex than from any intent. Kwinto continued to push and grab, and a few moments later the gun clattered to the ground. The man was subdued and taken into custody.
* * *
After the operation was completed, the EOD did investigate the culvert. Kwinto had been correct. A large IED, one capable of producing an explosion large enough to likely have killed or wounded all fifteen of those SEALs, had been hidden inside it. If it weren’t for Kwinto and his handler, the operation would have become more widely known, but it would have unfortunately been for the significant number of casualties incurred.
That was just the first of Kwinto’s hits that night. Further investigation revealed that the first entry point where Kwinto detected odor coming into the compound was rigged with a high-order explosive—in this case a pressure-switch artillery round behind a gate in the perimeter wall. Several other IEDs were found within the compound once the EOD team came in, as well as a weapons cache and other explosive compounds. All signs pointed to this heavily armed facility being used as a bomb-making location. That it was put out of commission and that one more prisoner was taken who might provide valuable intelligence was the best-case scenario. It is impossible to accurately measure what acts of violence and terrorism this operation prevented from taking place in the future by shutting this place down.
What is remarkably clear, however, is that Kwinto’s ability to detect multiple explosives in a short time span prevented serious casualties from happening to the Navy SEAL team. This raid took place during a period of heightened activity for IED incidents that began in the spring of 2009. As the United States committed more troops to Afghanistan and Iraq throughout the period from May 2009 to May 2010, the number of IED incidents in those two representative months went from 513 to 1,128, according to figures from the Joint Improvised Explosive Device Defeat Organization. August of 2009 was the single worst month for casualties, with 55 killed and 333 injured by IEDs.
Kwinto was relative
ly young at the time of the raid, only three and a half years old. He’s a high-energy dog with an ear-piercing bark an octave or more higher than you’d expect from a dog his size, to the degree that it’s something that nearly everyone comments on, comparing him to an enormous linebacker in football with a high-pitched squeak of a voice. When he started out, he was a real handful. Initially, he’d had some trouble, in that he’d go after his handler and our training staff, but eventually he’d gotten over that and proved to be a very capable dog.
In fact, Kwinto has developed a sense of when he’s going to be asked to get into the game. Like that football player before kickoff who strides up and down the sideline in nervous anticipation, Kwinto is a pacer. He takes five steps forward, makes a right-hand turn, takes five steps, and then makes another right-hand turn. He repeats as necessary. This is the routine every time his handler brings out Kwinto’s tactical vest. That Kwinto does this in the hours before an operation begins is a good sign. Like the other handlers with their dogs, Kwinto’s is always on the lookout for any changes in the dog’s behavior that might signal some kind of anxiety. As it turned out, Kwinto was mentally good to go the night they raided the Afghani compound.
Before he put the vest on Kwinto, his handler did another kind of check, as he did before and after every mission. Though in the mind and heart of a handler a dog is not a piece of equipment, he does pay the same kind attention to the dog’s operational functionality as he would with a weapon or a vehicle. He maintains that functionality, too. Basically, all this means the handler makes sure the dog is physically ready to go.