No Buddy Left Behind: Bringing U.S. Troops' Dogs and Cats Safely Home From the Combat Zone

by Terri Crisp; C. J. Hurn

  "Hey, Charlie." My fingers reached through the metal grate. "It's so good to meet you at long last." He moved closer to me and proceeded to lick as much skin as his tongue could reach. This was one greeting that would be hard to surpass.

  "I can't thank you men enough," I said as one of them handed me a large manila envelope containing Charlie's paperwork. "What you've done tonight has made an American soldier extremely happy, and you've saved this dog's life."

  "We're glad to see one animal, at least, getting out of this hellhole. Heaven knows, this is no place to be a dog."

  Soon the flight attendant signaled for us to get Charlie on board. Two of the men carried his crate into the plane as I followed close behind. After hugs all round and another "Thank you so much," they each said goodbye to Charlie and retreated down the stairs. I found it touching to see how attached these tough security guys had become to Charlie in such a short time.

  As I returned to my seat, all I could think was Holy cow, we did it. If only Eddie could have been here.

  When we completed the corkscrew ascent, and the lights flickered on, the flight attendant came down the aisle.

  "If you want to see how Charlie is doing, the pilot said it would be okay."

  That was one invitation I wasn't going to turn down! I headed straight up the aisle to the cargo area and sat myself down beside Charlie. His tail thumped on the crate wall when I joined him, and he kept his eyes on me for the duration of the flight. I told him that this strange journey would eventually bring him back to Eddie, but in a country where he'd be safe. Who knows how much any animal can understand from voice and body language? All I knew was that Charlie was glad for my presence. We kept each other company until just before the plane began its descent.

  Before I had left Kuwait, I had done a practice run, so I knew exactly where I needed to go after my flight from Baghdad landed. As long as nothing went wrong, I was fairly confident we'd be on time to catch our next flight on United. But there had been a delay just before we took off from Baghdad, so now we'd be cutting it close. If anything caused Charlie and me to miss our connecting flight, we would be in trouble. Dogs from Iraq aren't allowed to enter Kuwait, and the next flight to Washington, D.C., wasn't until the following night. Charlie would be stuck in his crate in the cargo terminal with no one to walk him or give him food and fresh water.

  Before landing in Kuwait, I spoke to the flight engineer, who had taken a liking to Charlie. "Now you're sure the ground crew will get Charlie to the United flight okay and not leave him sitting somewhere?"

  "Don't worry. I'll personally make sure Charlie doesn't get left behind."

  As the passenger shuttle left for the terminal, I watched the airport ground crew load Charlie's crate onto a luggage trolley. This was the last time I would see him until we were reunited in Washington, D.C. I had to fight the urge to jump off that shuttle, much like a new parent who leaves her child in the care of a babysitter for the first time.

  When we entered the Kuwait terminal, the transit desk was a hub of activity. Forty of us had arrived on the Gryphon flight, and due to the delay, most were nervous about making their connection. As we stood in line, a United Airlines representative collected our passports and gave them to a man seated at a desk in a small office behind the counter. Working at a snail's pace, the seated man inspected each passport, printed a boarding pass, and then handed both items back to the United representative, who returned them, one by one, to each passenger.

  At this pace we'll be here all night, I thought.

  The passing minutes on the wall clock seemed to speed up as the time of our departure got closer and closer.

  "Terri Crisp!" the United representative called out.

  "I'm traveling with a dog," I said as he handed me my passport and boarding pass. "I need to pay the shipping cost."

  "All animals are supposed to be here two hours before departure." His voice hinted at impatience, and his eyes betrayed no feelings of sympathy or understanding.

  "I know, but our flight was delayed."

  He turned to speak in Arabic to the man seated at the desk. I had no idea what they were saying, and their facial expressions were not providing any clues. Being unfamiliar with Middle Eastern mannerisms and body language, I found it impossible to tell whether the agent was a helpful friend or a play-by-the-book foe.

  All the other United passengers who approached the desk were told to proceed to the departure gate, while I stood like a penitent sinner at the end of the counter, feeling more helpless than I cared to think about.

  The airport PA system announced, "All passengers for United Airlines flight number 981, please proceed to Gate 21 for an on-time departure."

  The man with whom I had been dealing returned to the counter. "First we need to locate the dog. Then we'll weigh the crate to determine how much the freight charge is. In the meantime, please fill out these documents."

  I was still stuck at "We need to locate the dog." I wanted to scream, "You're telling me you don't know where Charlie is?"

  But this was not the time to speak my mind. I filled out the forms while the man went in search of Charlie. I crossed my fingers, hoping he'd be on our side. After completing the paperwork, I paced in front of the counter. The minutes continued to tick by. Once again the voice over the PA system reminded all United Airlines passengers that they should now be boarding the flight for Washington, D.C.

  Trying to curb my rising anxiety, I asked myself, "Has anybody died?" The answer was "no" at that point, so everything was still fixable. When I'm faced with challenges, this question has turned more anxiety-filled situations around than I care to count. All I am dealing with is another solvable problem. At the next flight-boarding announcement, I tuned out the annoying voice.

  The tap-tapping of the United representative's leather-soled shoes preceded his breathless announcement, "We found him! I've got the weight." He waved a slip of paper in the air as if approaching the finish line of a marathon. He slipped behind the counter, wiping sweat off his brow. For a man whose culture didn't like dogs, he certainly was making an effort to ensure that Charlie and I caught the flight. He had proved himself to be a helpful friend.

  After some quick calculations, the agent told me what I owed. I wasted no time giving him my debit card and prayed the woman at the credit union had been correct when she said the card would be accepted in Kuwait. I stared at the small machine, willing the slip of paper to scroll out, confirming that payment had been accepted. Suddenly the machine hummed and began to print, and I expelled one more of the many sighs of relief that had passed my lips that night.

  "Now go," the man urged after I signed.

  "What about my dog? Is there still enough time to get him on board?"

  "They are loading the animal right now," he said. For the first time since we'd met, the agent smiled.

  "Thank you!" In America I would have given him a hug or at least a handshake, but here I could only hope that the look in my eyes would convey the depth of my gratitude.

  I sprinted through the congested airport, which, thankfully, isn't very large. An airline representative stood at the jet way entrance, her hand ready to pull the door shut. "Wait!" Handing my passport and boarding pass to one agent and my carry-on bag to security for screening, I was the last passenger to slip through and board the plane. I slid my briefcase into the open overhead compartment and collapsed into my seat.

  "Hey, you made it," the young man seated beside me grinned. "When I overheard you at the counter say you were bringing a dog from Iraq to the U.S. for a soldier, I was pulling for you. I sure wish the puppy I rescued in Iraq could have been saved and brought home. Leaving my dog behind was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

  His sad words echoed in my mind, as if foreshadowing that this would not be my last trip to Iraq.

  As soon as we got through U.S. Customs, I pulled out my Blackberry, anxious to let Eddie know we'd arrived.

  Eddie, we've landed in D.C.! Charli
e is beside me, along with camera crews and news reporters from CNN and other media, waiting for the press conference to begin. Your dog is getting a hero's welcome, and he's loving every minute of it.

  Oh, and the guys from SLG wanted me to tell you that even though Charlie howled when they pulled away from your outpost, once they got him to their compound, he settled in just fine. They spoiled him the next day with plenty of treats and affection. He even got a bath. By the time they took him to the airport, they were buddies.

  So many people on this journey went out of their way to make sure Charlie had a safe, successful trip. I cannot tell you how full my heart is at this moment.

  Rest easy, my friend. Your dog is home.

  -Terri

  Eddie must have been waiting by the outpost computer. A few seconds later, as I answered questions from journalists, my cell phone rang. It was Eddie. No one could make me ignore this call.

  "We did it!" Eddie yelled. His voice was nearly drowned out by the whoops and shouts from soldiers standing around him.

  "You'd better believe it! Charlie's paws are on American soil as we speak, and there's not a grain of sand in sight."

  A long pause on Eddie's end bore witness to the depth of feeling contained in his next words. "I don't know how to say ... what this means ... Thank you."

  "Other than knowing Charlie is safe, the only thanks I need, Eddie, is to see you come home."

  "I'll be there in six weeks."

  An excited group of people waited to welcome Charlie and me amidst the reporters and cameras at the airport. It was such a relief to see the faces of my daughter Jennifer, my boss JD and co-worker Stephanie, plus SPCA International volunteers Bev Westerman and Barb Hartman. Hugs and tears were shared all around, and everyone was in a celebrating mood.

  After the crowd of well-wishers and reporters dispersed, Jennifer and Stephanie went to get the rental cars. The only people who stayed behind were JD and the reporter from The Washington Post. We had all decided to take Charlie out for a walk along the National Mall and to take his photograph there so I could send it to Eddie. Before Jennifer and Stephanie returned with the cars, JD turned to me. Our eyes met for a few moments in a wordless recognition of what we had just achieved.

  On many occasions in the last few months we had sat in JD's office together, sometimes with tears of frustration welling up in our eyes when it looked like Charlie's rescue plan would slip, once again, like dry sand through our fingers. With every obstacle that appeared, the stakes rose, and the price tag mushroomed into frighteningly high figures. That financial burden was always on JD's shoulders. Despite his earnest desire to help Eddie and his dog, I honestly don't know why JD didn't just pull the plug.

  "You did it, Terri," JD said. "You kept your promise to Charlie."

  "I wasn't the only one; we all did it." I replied.

  JD looked away, a little embarrassed at the emotions that threatened to spill over in public.

  "We actually pulled off the impossible. Isn't it an awesome feeling?" I asked.

  "I haven't felt so fulfilled in a long time," JD admitted quietly. Determined to maintain his composure, my boss suddenly changed to a brisk, business-as-usual tone. "I'm going to ride to the mall with the photographer and Stephanie. Do you want me to stay with you until Jennifer gets back?"

  "No. You go ahead, and we'll meet all of you there. Charlie and I will just plop ourselves down here and grab a quiet moment."

  I sat with my back propped against the wall, legs stretched out in front of me. Closing my eyes, I stroked Charlie, who had lain beside me and placed his head on my lap. Before she left the international arrivals area with JD, the photographer from The Washington Post captured Charlie and me with her camera. Above our heads the arrivals board announced only one flight. It read simply, "Kuwait."

  For the next few moments Charlie and I sat alone together. I was overcome by the realization that this dog's death warrant was now discarded in Iraq and that his new prospect for a long, healthy life in America was assured. All this happened because one soldier had the courage to ask for help, and we'd had the heart to say, "We'll try."

  By the time our party reconvened to walk Charlie past his new country's beautiful buildings and military monuments, our stroll along the National Mall could not have felt more patriotic. Charlie stopped to christen every corner and claimed this country as his own. Eddie would have been proud of his dog. After the memorable photo shoot, Jennifer and I said our goodbyes to all our friends and loaded Charlie into the rental car.

  Jennifer and I shared a room with Charlie at the Sheraton. I couldn't wait to sit down with her and let all the details of my journey tumble out. We tried to get Charlie to sit on the bed with us, but he wasn't having it. Shortly after we settled in, someone knocked on our door. I half-expected to see more reporters, but the door opened to the hotel bellman, whose arms bore a huge basket of dog toys and treats. Attached to the basket was a card signed by the hotel staff. It read, "Welcome Home, Charlie."

  The hotel employees must have seen the news reports on TV or on SPCA International's website. Perhaps they had been following Eddie's blog. It seemed like the whole world had been following the story.

  Six weeks after Valentine's Day, Charlie's entry into the States, SGT Eddie Watson came home with his unit. Eddie couldn't wait to drive to Bev and Barb's house, where Charlie and I were staying. He left Fort Bragg military base in North Carolina immediately after work and was so eager to see his buddy that he didn't even stop to change out of his Army Combat Uniform (ACU).

  When Eddie arrived, Bev, Barb, and I met him out in front of the house.

  "Why don't you go around to the back yard?" I said. "Charlie's out there waiting for you."

  Sure enough, when Eddie rounded the corner, Charlie was standing by the gate. Having heard the car, he knew that someone was coming; he just didn't know who it was. As Eddie walked toward the gate, Charlie spotted the uniform, and the expression on his face changed. He stared at Eddie for a second and then shook his head as if he couldn't trust what he was seeing.

  Eddie unlatched the gate, went in, and took two steps toward Charlie before he bent down to touch his dog. That's when Charlie went crazy. The dog nearly flipped himself inside out before he took off and ran in circles around the yard. Eddie had never seen Charlie act anything like it before. After several rounds, Charlie launched himself from six paces and, airborne, landed in the soldier's outstretched arms, licking his face and whimpering. He kept repeating his wild greeting as if the only way to release the uncontainable joy was by running. After several spins around the yard, Charlie settled down, and Eddie was finally able to wrap him in the hug he'd been waiting to feel for six long weeks.

  The whole scene seemed unreal to Eddie. The dog he remembered in Baghdad had lived outdoors at the outpost. That dog had always been covered in sand and filth. To see him like this was a shock. Charlie's fur shone and his tail was now thick and fluffy; he held it up as if waving a victor's flag after the battle is won.

  "Look at you! I can't believe it's you," Eddie laughed between choked up tears. "You scrub up good, old buddy."

  Eddie buried his face in the dog's fur and gave Charlie a vigorous rub all over as he continued to praise his dog. Charlie leaned against the soldier with his mouth open and tongue hanging out in a wide canine grin, as if he understood every word.

  That night Eddie and Charlie stayed at a hotel just outside of Washington, D.C. Charlie slept on the bed and stretched across his soldier's body as if determined never to let him go away again. In the morning the two of them went for a walk around the D.C. monuments before they headed back to Ft. Bragg in North Carolina. Eddie walked Charlie past the military memorials and down the tree-lined streets of Washington, humbled by the realization that until he came to America, the only places Charlie had known were the streets of Baghdad's slums. People kept stopping to say hello to the soldier and his handsome dog, and they were intrigued when Eddie told Charlie's story. The dog loved a
ll the attention he was getting. Any worries Eddie had felt about Charlie adjusting to people in the States were eased. After a couple hours of sightseeing, they returned to the car and began their six-hour journey back to base.

  Some of the guys in Eddie's unit knew that he had gone to collect Charlie. They, too, couldn't wait to see their old buddy again. One of the men, named Smith, didn't know that Charlie was in America or even that Eddie had been trying to get him out of Iraq. Smith was one of the guys who had helped to take care of Charlie when the men first found him as a pup. He had doted on the puppy as much as Eddie did.

  Back in October, Smith had taken a round through his knee. It was the kind of injury that knocks a soldier out of the war. The Army had sent him back to Ft. Bragg, where he'd been undergoing a painful recovery and grueling physical therapy. But now the soldier from the 82nd Squadron was up and about and glad to be reunited with his platoon. He certainly never expected to see Charlie again.

  When SGT Watson got back to the base, he stood in the parking lot next to Charlie, talking with one of the guys from the unit about what a surprise it was going to be for Smith to see Charlie again. Sure enough, when Smith walked across the grounds and saw SGT Watson from the far side of the lot, he caught sight of Charlie, shook his head and his jaw dropped several inches.

  "Charlie?" he shouted.

  After all that time, the dog remembered Smith as if he'd just seen him yesterday. Charlie started flipping in circles on his leash, barking, and acting as crazy as when he was reunited with Eddie. SGT Watson unclipped the leash, and Charlie sprang forward as if someone had filled him with rocket fuel and pushed the take-off button. Eddie and the other soldier got all choked up as they watched Smith's big grin, and how he kept shaking his head. He couldn't believe it; here was Charlie, the dog that had made all the difference in Iraq, together with his buddies again-together in America.