Much
to my regret today, I joined the Army before the
Vietnam War started. As a Military Policeman, I was assigned
to a security detachment to guard a highly classified
(then) chemical weapons storage depot on Okinawa. Upon
arrival, I was asked if I wanted to stand guard in a
tower all night or become a Sentry Dog Handler. Hell,
I loved dogs, and hated heights, so a dog handler, I
became!
In late 1964, I was transferred
to the 820th M.P. Platoon (Dog) in Korea. This was the
8th Army Sentry Dog Training School. Wow... now I'm a dog trainer and an instructor. I was really
getting some place in this world. One year later, around
October 1966, I received orders to the 1st Infantry
Division, 35th Infantry Platoon Scout Dog (IPSD),
DiAn, South Vietnam. My first reaction was, not me! I am a MP--not an infantryman. What's a scout dog
anyway?
Upon arrival in Nam, I was assigned
a scout dog (whose name, I don't remember) and given
approximately three days of training inside the base
camp at DiAn (N/W of Tan Son Nhut, Saigon, and S/W of
Phu Cat). Now that I was an "expert" scout dog handler,
I was sent to the field on my first Mission. All I remember
is that it was a full Division operation, with headquarters
on a large French Rubber Plantation with a small airstrip.
The first night there, the new
guy (me) got assigned to be part of a listening post
approximately 25-50 meters forward of the perimeter.
I was assigned to three other Infantry types that I had
never met. I out ranked all three, but didn't know a
damn thing about infantry tactics, where we were going,
how we were going to get there (or back), or what they
expected me to do! Being the intelligent person that
I am, I tore off my stripes and played the role of the
dumb private (which I really was). Once we were in position,
we made a startling discovery. This dog of mine did not
want to sit still and listen--he wanted to go walking,
i.e. scouting. No amount of my pleading could convince
him to sit still and be quiet, especially with my whole
three days of rapport with him.
Dog made so much noise and with
my inability to control him, the infantry guy in charge,
radioed back for permission to send me back to the perimeter.
They pointed me in the proper direction, gave me the
password, and said get-out! On the way back in, with
the dog about to pull my arm off, we of course, tripped
a wire attached to a trip flare. I knew then and there
I was going to be shot by the guys on the perimeter and
that my life was over. I promised myself, as I screamed
the password over and over, that if I lived through this
night, I would become the best damn "infantryman" and
dog handler that I could possibly be.
Somehow, by the grace of the
big guy (or whomever) I made it back to the perimeter
that night and with much additional training, I did become a good infantryman and scout dog handler (good
enough to make it through two tours with the 35th). Now
that I look back on that LP, I can find humor in it all! So much for my first mission in country.... |
