K-9 Korea Read online

  The Doggies were going to Korea.

  EARLY FRIENDSHIPS

  The boys assessed each other, sizing each other up by what they already knew from time together at Fort Ord. The bus ride had given them time to pick each other apart, in a soldier’s way, finding out who was sensitive about what and how far the teasing could go. They pushed each other’s buttons in those confined hours on the road—and quickly amalgamated into certain friendships. They had no idea that these friendships would last a lifetime.

  Even before they reached the gates at Carson, a unity had emerged that only shared suffering could create. The drudgery of duty, the uncertainty of success at their jobs, the physical rigors of military life had all been a part of their shared experience so far. But their shared unspoken fear of the unknown, hovering just over their heads, would cause them to lean on each other in ways they had never leaned on another human being before.

  Fickes was the baby of the bunch and still full of wide-eyed optimism. His eyes sparkled with laughter, and he quickly became a general favorite with his little brother antics. He played along and told everyone that he had shaved for the first time when he went to basic. Everyone readily believed him—he was scrawny, fresh-faced, and awkward. His youth was endearing, though, and many of the men took to him immediately. Some would eventually take him under their wing as though he was their own kid brother. It also helped his popularity that Fickes could play the ukulele and had a fairly extensive knowledge of the Burl Ives songbook.

  Broadway was the Texan of the group, a larger-than-life character, six feet tall. Naturally, the guys started calling him “Tex.” Tex hit it off right away with Chan, his frequent KP buddy. Chan was probably a foot shorter than Tex, and the two of them were quite a pair. The very first night they got stuck in the kitchen together, making breakfast for all the new arrivals at the 8125th. Chan confided in Tex that he hoped they weren’t destined for Korea—as he expressed it, he didn’t have a “Chinaman’s chance of surviving it.” Tex urged him to relax. He did his best to distract him with stories about Texas, its vast space, beautiful women, and giant people.

  Chan didn’t even flinch when Tex and the others started calling him “Chin” (as if they couldn’t read the nametape on the uniform). He was the kind of guy who took it all in stride. His spirit was generous and easygoing, and he didn’t have the heart to hurt anyone’s feelings. Besides, Chan had learned to deal with stereotypes Chinese people endured in the country from his first arrival on these shores. Being Asian brought scrutiny on his family for generations. The untrained eye saw him as a Japanese boy, the enemy, during World War II, and that same untrained eye thought he might be the new enemy, Korean, now that he was a man. And although he was as American in every way as the soldier next to him, he had to prove that his customs weren’t as foreign as everyone assumed.

  Slaughter sat quietly on the bus, uniform on point. He was the only black man in the unit, and he felt isolated in this newly integrated Army.2 The others knew Slaughter’s standards were exacting, and his appearance was important to him. They figured he felt he had something to prove. As a result, he escaped most of the collective bullying, even the good-natured kind. Poole was one of the few guys that Slaughter immediately let into his fold. They had a natural rapport and would remain close. Paulus and Poole also hit it off, naturally drawing Slaughter into the circle.

  Batson was a quiet Midwestern boy with a pleasant expression and generally jovial disposition.

  Wooden was stoic—his expression was pleasant enough that no one considered him troublesome, only somewhat mysterious. He had grown up around animals, jockeying racehorses in his teen years, and possessed a cool confidence that few dared to transgress.

  Hatch was a jokester, his repertoire of dirty jokes plentiful. He entered the group like a court jester, which effectively earned him a position of favor with everyone. It probably struck many as odd that this Mormon boy had such a quick wit and saucy humor, but he wielded it to catch them off-guard and win them over.

  Rath came off very talkative. He was a Germanic Nebraska boy, rooted in his conservative heritage and Christian faith. The boys tested him at first to see how strict he really was. They picked at him to elicit the slightest blush. He passed the test by smiling at all the appropriate places.

  Bakken, having grown up in the same area with many of the same values, didn’t come off with the same precocious nature. But Bakken and Rath hit it off in spite of their very different personalities. A third eventually joined their sub-group of friends. Stalke easily fit into the group, and a friendship was born that would last for a very long time. Peterson and Munson were also reunited with Bakken and flowed easily into the new group of friends.

  Jellison mixed readily among most of the men, easily befriending them. Stewart was like a young pup, heartily chatting everyone up. Both received their fair share of ribbing, but like the rest of the guys they soon found a balance of acceptability.

  Garfield seemed like he might be the only loose cannon in the bunch. His habits hinted at an attitude more serious than mischievousness.

  The friendships between these men, formed quickly, would be critical to the success of this unit. Yet as they drove up to the gates of Camp Carson, none of them had any idea how deep a friendship could really be.

  Fickes and Chan formed a lifelong friendship early on.

  CAMP CARSON

  The dogs at Camp Carson had come from all over the country, just like the men, and they now sat in their kennels eager to address the new scents hanging in the air. They had already gone through their in-processing and basic, like the men, and were awaiting the arrival of new handlers. They anxiously pranced around in anticipation of their new pack leaders.

  The 8125th Sentry Dog Detachment was a catch-all for unclassifiable dogs. Some of the dogs had washed out of scout training due to their inability to keep quiet. Barkers need not apply to be scout dogs, as the element of surprise was key to a scout’s success. Others had been sent directly to the sentry unit because the need for scouts in Korea had waned after they had already been purchased. All the dogs had gone through basic obedience, some even before they became soldiers. The dogs lived according to established routines of training, grooming, feeding, and petting, but that routine had recently lapsed in the days before the bus pulled up to the gates at Carson. Now the dogs could sense their beloved jobs would start again soon.

  In the distance the men saw the kennels and heard the high yips. Without even laying eyes on the dogs, their souls were stirred by the ancient calling together of the pack.3 The men glanced at each other, sharing the same thought: “I want to meet my dog.”

  Just as the men felt the energy of the pending meetings between K-9 and soldier, the dogs also felt it—maybe even on a higher level. Their extrasensory abilities had alerted them to changes many days before, and they were frenetic.4 They had already been through handlers and done the work of a military working dog by now, but few had formed bonds. For the dogs who had washed out from the scout division, their previous handlers would have spent just enough time with them to find out they were not scout material. The dogs who were never even considered for scouts had gone through a fair amount of basic obedience handling. All the dogs, having come from private homes, had known the bond between a man and a dog in their former lives, and each was longing for that bond again.

  THE DOGS

  The dogs came in many marking variations of the German Shepherd breed color standard: tan, white, and black. Their personalities also varied widely. Some were playful goofballs, while others were timid. Some would roll over for a scratch on the belly, while others would raise hackles at just a passing glance.

  Many of them had been given names that implied something about their character, like Chief, Bullet, Junker, and Spooks. A lot of the dogs had been given names that reflected their pedigreed German ancestry: Duke, Rex, Lutz, Stagmar, Rommel, Fritz, and Prinz. Some dogs were just given good, old-fashioned dog “handles,” such as Willy,
Tex, Chito, Wolf, and Grey.

  Duke was a veteran in his own right. A beautiful German Shepherd of just the right proportions, he had come to Camp Carson at the age of six. By dog measures he was middle-aged. He had come from a kennel owned by an “F. W. Keesee” in Falls Church, Virginia, not long before the men were to arrive. Apparently his advanced age didn’t hinder his ability to “learn new tricks”—everyone who came in contact with him described him as “smart as hell.” Like many of the dogs, Duke loved the games the Army had designed for them.

  Duchess was one of the few females at Camp Carson. Most remained back home in their respective kennels to continue breeding lines. Duchess quickly gained a reputation for “bitchiness,” a beneficial trait in the sentry dog world.

  Prinz sat quietly chained to his dog house, an experience he hadn’t known in his former life. Still, he was happy, his usual countenance shining through in spite of the change of scenery. Routine was good for him. The regular walks and daily grooming pleased him, and the food was exquisite. Horse meat and Wheaties seemed a world away from the dry kibble he had known with Gerry. Aside from the train ride in the big crate, everything seemed pretty close to normal for Prinz. All that was lacking now was the fading aroma of Gerry. It still permeated slightly. He even thought he might know the way home, following that faint, wafting memory, if he tried. But Prinz decided to ride it out. There were new smells in this place that he couldn’t discredit. He decided he would see what that was all about.

  The men disembarked at their barracks to meet Corporals Brandenburg, Talley, and Fowler, and the unit’s OIC, Lieutenant Zach Word. They had hoped to meet the dogs right away, but their hopes were immediately dashed: it would be days before they could meet the dogs, and even that was contingent on everything falling in line.

  Fowler explained to them that this was a painstaking process. The men had to build trust with the dogs, and it couldn’t be done in a day. “Settle in for the night,” he ordered. “Private Chan, pick a buddy and make the guys some chow. Tomorrow you will start getting to know your dogs on paper, and there’s a lot to learn. Be ready.”

  Chan looked at Broadway and smiled. “You’re with me, Tex!”

  Broadway feigned irritation. “Why the hell do I have to do it? Of course they need a Chinaman to cook, but why me?”

  Chan asked if Broadway knew how to cook eggs.

  “Well of course I can!” Broadway replied. “Best damn eggs on earth!”

  “Good,” Chan grinned. “I’ll peel the potatoes.”

  BONDING

  Falge had been at Carson for some time before the other guys arrived. He had flown into Colorado Springs from Fort Ord and was immediately struck by the beautiful mountains spiraling upward around him. He took note of a sign introducing the city as the “Future Home of the United States Air Force Academy.” Carson was set in classic Colorado ranch country, which lent itself well to a place where dogs and horses roamed. He thought what a shame it would be for urban sprawl to take over.

  At first Falge had been assigned to the scout dogs. He loved the work there and found the dogs to be different from any he had ever known before. They seemed smart. Not that the dogs he had known before weren’t, but these dogs seemed to have an added dimension to their personalities. Their job had given them an added vocabulary. The dogs moved silently in their play and work, coursing through the high desert plains of Colorado, finding first one objective and then the next.5 Falge admired their drive and determination.

  When he transferred to work with the sentry dogs, he quickly learned the dogs were just as clever on that side of the compound. He soon formed a bond of trust with his companion dog, Stagmar, as she showed herself to be capable of protecting him.

  Benevenga, or as the men called him, “Ben,” had been with Falge in the scouts and was, by all accounts, a great dog handler. His fellow soldiers loved working with him because he clearly loved his work with the dogs. More than that, Ben had a connection to the dogs which few could claim. It was the procedure to “square your dog” in formation by making the dog sit on a certain point, next to the handler, in an erect and alert position. Ben could get his dog in that position easily, and if the dog strayed a millimeter, Ben could “ask” him to shift his butt with a look alone. The other guys often sat in awe of that, resigning themselves to the idea that that is something one is born with, not something developed. Ben was a very humble guy, though, and many of them found it hard to get to know him. He simply didn’t like to talk about himself. Falge, however, being Ben’s constant bunkmate (most likely a result of their names being so close, alphabetically, on the roster) got to know Ben well, and they were good friends.

  Falge and sentry dog Lutz take a break from training at Camp Carson.

  When Ben received word that he would be going to the sentry dog side, he looked forward to the challenge of working new dogs. He was also glad to be going along with his buddy Falge. But he was pretty sure that the sentries could never match the prowess of the scout dogs who had been trained to do stealthy work across enemy lines. “It’s just a job,” he thought and moved on in military fashion.

  “Ben” and Falge relax with Falge’s dog Stagmar.

  The first night the men arrived at the 8125th, Falge and Ben were there waiting. As the men gathered around to eat their late-night chow, they were full of questions for the veterans. What were the dogs like? What was their mission? What would their training be like? Falge answered their questions as best he could, but he advised them the only thing they needed to worry about was “getting in” on their dog. Benevenga was asked what his dog was like, to which Falge replied, “Vicious as hell.”

  The morning after their arrival, and much to the men’s frustration, they learned they would not be meeting the dogs right away. In spite of their disappointment, many took comfort in at least learning their dogs’ names. Each man would be paired with one dog, but they all would be asked to handle more than one dog from time to time. Further, there were some shared responsibilities in caring for the dogs. For the most part, however, the method of partnership between one man and one dog, which had been proven so effective during World War II, would continue in the Army’s K-9 training program.

  Falge was paired with Stag. Fickes got Duke. Broadway had the flop-eared Rex, tattoo # E248, a dog he described as “unable to win any beauty contests but smart.” Slaughter was paired with the striking Jet, a silky-coated, black Shepherd. Hatch was teamed with Willy. Rath would be with Fritz. Bakken got Bullet. Stahlke went with Junker. Laidback Jellison got a matching dog in Tex. Stewart got high-strung Duchess. Benevenga had Grey. Paulus paired with Fritz, a super witty dog and an excellent example of the German Shepherd breed standard. Wooden had the prey-driven Chief. Batson teamed up with Chito. Peterson got arguably one of the most vicious dogs in the bunch, Wolf. The effervescent Chan was matched with an equally happy dog, Prinz.

  Bakken and Bullet.

  Rath and Fritz.

  Before meeting the dogs face-to-face, each man got to look at his dog’s dossier. The files on most included extensive medical histories, as well as the point of receipt for the dogs. There were training records as well, giving the men an idea of how to approach their dogs by adjusting for temperament. They also learned what, how much, and how often the dogs ate. The thing consistently lacking in these records, however, was a backstory. Most men would never know who their dogs had been in civilian life.

  Slaughter and Jet.

  Stahlke and Junker.

  Prinz was the exception.

  That same day, Lieutenant Word called Chan into the office. Chan was pretty sure the lieutenant had something to say about chow the night before—or maybe he planned to assign him some other “Chinaman’s” duty, like laundry. He was relieved and even a little flattered to learn the OIC wanted to talk to him about his dog.

  “Private Chan, I have a letter for you,” Word said. “This letter is from sixteen-year-old Mary Jay Osler of Bangor, Maine. She writes to say that that dog
means the world to her. She requests that she be informed about Prinz’s actions, and because we are determined to keep a positive relationship with community, we will go above and beyond to make that happen. Do you understand that, Private Chan?”

  Chan smiled. “Of course, sir.” As he walked out of the office, staring at the letter, he thought he smelled perfume coming from the envelope.

  To Whom It May Concern,

  My name is Mary Jay Osler. I am a 16-year-old high school student from Bangor Maine. I love theater (I’m an actress), history, going to the drive-in with my friends, and dogs. Prinz is such a good boy and I’ve spent lots of time with him. I was really sad to lose him but I am proud of the service he and you are giving to the country. I would love to hear about his adventures. Will you write to me and let me know how he’s doing in his training?

  Sincerely,

  Mary Jay

  An actress? Chan was pretty sure she must be a looker. Oh yeah, he would write and write often. It was too bad he didn’t know much more about Prinz from the letter, but he hoped she would write more in future letters about his dog.

  It was a big day when the men finally met their dogs, a few days later. The kennels were busy with excitement. There was no formula for “getting in.” The men had been briefed on that fact. The introduction was critical, and if it took days to achieve, they could take that time. Trust must be the cornerstone of an everlasting bond between man and dog, and it could never be rushed. Each man gauged his dog’s behavior and adjusted accordingly. Some dogs were easy. Saddling up to them, gently chirping their name, and slipping the choke chain on worked right away. Others snarled, gnashed teeth, and lashed out at the end of their chains.