Boy, the LBE sure has evolved! No more canteen.

Episode 20

SFC Shemp was ready to get some dog teams validated and pushed out to their units. He had watched us work a few times and felt that some of us had progressed far enough in our training to get a shot at working in the real world. The validating process was not as formal as certification in Arizona. He just set up a few training venues when he was available and watched us work our dogs. There was a lot less pressure than at our certification, seeing that he was a Sergeant First Class and not a Sergeant Major. We had also been working as a dog team for an additional month, training daily with none of the distractions that we had in Arizona. We were living the dog life, 24-7.

The majority of the previous class had failed to pass this validation, but we were also performing at a higher level, due to changes in the training implemented by the trainers to better prepare us for testing. SFC Shemp had also been very encouraging during our training sessions, with many complimentary critiques of our searches. What we didn't understand, at the time, was that SFC Shemp didn't want us to succeed. He was upset that the training of MWD teams was no longer strictly under control of the Military Police. He was out to see us fail, to make the MP training program look like the only viable resource for explosive detection dogs. However, to our faces, he was nothing but nice.

The first validation problem he set up was late in the morning on a particularly hot day. It was late July in Afghanistan, so the heat was brutal through the hottest part of the day. We gathered at the testing location and set up a net for the dogs, so they could have some shade while they awaited their turn to run. SFC Shemp had also brought the MP dog handlers that were under his charge to run the venue for training. There were 7 of them, and they all had air conditioned SUVs to keep their dogs cool.

All 7 of the MP dog teams ran the venue first, and they took their sweet time about it. They were averaging 30 minutes each to work the problem, so it was early in the afternoon before our first dog got to run. The dogs had been sitting in their crates in the 120 degree heat for 3 hours. We were separate from the MP handlers, as were were in no way cool enough to associate with them, but we could see their dejected expressions and head shakes as they returned to their vehicles from the venue. We were informed later that none of the MP teams had found the training aid.

John and Taz were selected by SFC Shemp to be the first ones to run as they had been performing consistently throughout training, and had the highest chance of validating and being pushed forward to their unit. They returned from the training venue in less than 10 minutes with a big smile on their collective face. Taz was hot, his tongue lolling and dripping from the side of his mouth, snaked around a tennis ball. They had succeeded where all the MPs had failed. Bruno and Alex were next on the chopping block, and the result was the same. Bruno came racing over the hill back to the truck and jumped up in his crate, with his ball still in his mouth, before Alex was even in sight.

Fama and I were up next. There were butterflies in my stomach as I walked to where my trainers stood in conversation with SFC Shemp. It was time, once again, to prove ourselves as a team. The venue was a short route clear, up a hill, with a sharp turn to the right about half way up. There was a ditch which was full of green pricker weeds off to the left of the route, and a couple of large blacks of concrete placed right on the turn in the route, placed there to block vehicle traffic from using the path. With a reassuring nod from Luchian, I put Fama to work. She was already breathing out of her mouth, trying desperately to cool herself, but she was still focused on the task, searching with enthusiasm. She paused and checked out a big spot of disturbed earth on the right side of the path, discarded the spot, and checked back with me for direction.

I sent her left, across the path, down into the ditch full of prickers. She dove right in, not hesitating in the slightest at the presence of her nemesis. She crashed through the prickers, searching her little feet off down towards the turn in the road. I had moved down the road 25 yards, but was still 75 yards from the turn. Fama's head came up and she threw a slight change of behavior, moving to my right towards the concrete blocks. I indicated to SFC Shemp that I thought she was on odor and let her work it out. She was searching methodically around the blocks, returning to where she had originally smelled the odor when she was unsuccessful to try again to locate the source.

Fama was not one to just plant her but when she thought she was close to the source of odor. She would work until she was satisfied that she had it nailed. Call it doggy pride, or good training. She didn't appreciate help. I was getting nervous about her failure to exhibit a final response, and had stopped myself several times from pressing her on up the path. I had to reassure myself that I knew she was in odor, and that she would work it out. Fama had yet to look back to me for guidance, so I just let her work it out, standing there watching the Fama show. It took her 5 minutes to work her way to the other side of the path. Her nose touched the dirt in a location previously unchecked, and she froze, clearing her nose with a big snot and taking in a deep breath. I knew she had it.

Luchian walked to my side, his arms crossed and a big smile of satisfaction on his face. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. Fama plopped to the ground with her nose all but touching the hide. Every cell in her body was charged with the energy of the generations of dogs that came before her, hunting their prey to survive. Her body locked in position, every muscle tense with anticipation. Her ears were raked forward, almost painfully, screaming for the ball. I walked up the path, admiring the beauty of the scene. Validation was meaningless when compared to this, the excitement of the hunt and joy of success. I tossed her ball and the world exploded in fun. Even the trainers were whooping it up. It was as much a success for them and their efforts in preparing us as it was for the individual teams.

I let Fama keep her ball and walked back to the truck to get her some much needed shade and rest. The guys were all happy to see another dog return with a ball in it's panting mouth. Fama jumped into her crate and got a drink of warm water. She was asleep within minutes of the door closing. The majority of the teams performed well that day. We had proven ourselves superior to the MPs, and it felt good to walk away winners, even if the MPs didn't stick around to watch us work our dogs. We knew where we stacked up by comparison, so we were confident that we would all validate. How could SFC Shemp hold us back when we were outperforming his own dog teams? We would soon find out.

Episode 21

28 of the dog teams left to return to the states and turn their dogs back in to the kennel. These teams had either failed to validate, or taken so long to complete validation that their units were leaving Afghanistan and the dog teams were not needed. It cleared up a lot of space in the tent, which was nice, but it was also a sobering reminder of the challenge that still laid before us. We removed some of the bunks and wall lockers to give ourselves some additional space. It was also liberating to be back to the small group of friends that had been working together for months now. We could let our hair down and be ourselves.

I had quickly claimed a large space in the corner of the tent, using the wall lockers and some blankets to create a private room, allowing Fama free reign of our space while I was there. this helped her to calm down even more when we weren't working. She could hang out on the bed with daddy and relax, chewing on a Nylabone or Kong to pass the time. The handlers dropped in on each other regularly for company, to play a practical joke, or to ask a question.

Scott popped his head in through the blanket that was serving as a door and dropped to a knee by my bed to inquire about what we were doing for training that evening. Fama , who had been snoozing behind me on the bed, launched over my legs to the floor and grabbed Scott by the shoulder. I grabbed her by the collar, scolded her, and stuffed her into her crate. Scott was wide eyed in fear and shaking after the incident. I apologized, feeling terrible about the behavior of my dog, and tried to help him understand that Fama was just surprised, and possibly felt threatened, so she reacted in defense.

I tried to get him to help me with the issue by working with Fama, but he didn't feel safe around her. Fama could feel his unease, so she made a game out of messing with Scott and his dog Chatsi. Every time either of them would come close, Fama would bark and lunge, seeming to laugh as they would retreat in fear. Because she kept winning this contest, it was almost impossible for me to stop her behavior. Every time they walked by my room, Fama would "chase them off" by barking, therefore winning, no matter how stern a correction she received afterward. Scott and Chatsi quickly learned to avoid Fama all together, walking with wide berth around us whenever our paths crossed.

The next validation venue was another route clear on a long stretch of paved road with a huge ditch off to the left side. You could park a bus in the ditch and have room to walk around it without getting up on the road. After completing the venue, the handlers were to put up their dogs and come out to watch the remaining dog teams run. Fama and I were going last on this venue, so the rest of the handlers were following along behind us as we conducted the route clear. It was a physically demanding venue, as we had to climb in and out of the steep walled ditch multiple times to perform a thorough search. There were three hides placed on the route, and Fama had just found the second hide with little difficulty.

We had been working off leash, and Fama had just responded to a hide located down in the ditch. After getting her ball, she came racing back to me up on the road to continue the search. I got the ball away from her and sent her down the road, feeling confident about our performance. She ran down the road 25 yards, circled around to the right, ran right back past me, past the trainers, and right into the group of handlers that was observing from 10 yards behind us. At first, I thought she was just returning to the hide she had just found, trying to get her ball the easy way, but I soon realized she was on a different mission. With a sudden squirt of speed, she jumped into the crowd of handlers as they scattered. I was racing to my dog but it happened too fast for me to intervene. Fama had jumped on Scott's back and taken him to the ground like LT on a quarterback.

I hit her at a sprint, tackling her while spewing a stream of expletives. Fama immediately went submissive, knowing that she was going to lose a fight with me in a bad way. She laid on the ground, looking up at me, waiting to see what I would do. I was at a loss. SFC Shemp was there, and technically it is against the rules to do any physical correction to your dog, especially any type of striking, no matter the circumstance. Fama needed a "Come to Jesus" talking to, but I was afraid of getting in trouble for getting physical with my dog, so I told her to stay, got up, and went to Scott to make sure he was OK.

SFC Shemp exploded in a tirade, berating me for not laying into Fama, essentially letting her get away with being aggressive. I had made the wrong decision by not correcting my dog, and I was afraid it was going to cost me my position as a dog handler.

"That dog is a liability. Somebody is going to get hurt. Winners just can't control her, and I can't let a team like that go down range and have a civilian get bit, no matter how good a detection team they are."

I tried to explain my reasoning behind my failure to correct Fama. "I didn't know how you would react if I really got on my dog, and I didn't want to get in trouble for getting physical with her," I explained.

"He knows how to handle Fama. I have seen it before, and they have come a long way in the last 3 months. I will personally vouch for his abilities as a handler," said Gary, looking to me. "This won't happen again, will it Sergeant Winners?"

"I can't promise anything except that next time, she won't be smiling afterwards," I said.

I finished the training venue and put Fama up, feeling like I had let us down. I should have thought about the situation I put her in, with Scott walking behind us, and anticipated the reaction she might have. I could have kept her on the long line or suggested that Scott not follow us on the venue. Now, we were on the RADAR in a bad way, and I had to be careful or we would be finished as a dog team before we ever got to get started. Scott was more fearful than ever around Fama, and she was more cocky. She knew that she had his number and he wasn't going to do anything about it. Understandably, Scott refused to help me work on the issue. He didn't want anything to do with Fama.

In the afternoons, I started walking through the busy parts of the FOB, watching her closely for signs of aggression. Every time we walked by a person and she didn't react, I would praise her and play some tug or give her a Kong. I was careful to stay at a distance where she wouldn't react in a bad way so she would begin to associate strangers with a toy and praise and not a correction. We worked on this every day and it wasn't long before she could ignore strangers all together and relax while we were walking. She was still reactive while we were stopped, occasionally barking at a passer by, especially if they were moving quickly. I was committed to helping Fama realize that it was not her job to fight.

Back to back episodes?! I love it. I've been following this story from the beginning but haven't chimed in yet. I love seeing you work through these problems and successes with Fama. Also, I'm working on a PhD in English, and I feel qualified to say we may have the next great American novel on our hands!

WOW. Thank you so much for the compliment Eric! Right now, I'm going to consider it a resounding success if a publisher just reads the first chapter. The job of getting a book published seems like an insurmountable task, so I'm putting it off until I get the book finished in rough draft. There is also that little hope in the back of my head that the right person will read our story and contact me .... but I'm not holding my breath.

 Quote: Duane Hull

Boy, the LBE sure has evolved! No more canteen.

We are still issued canteens, but I prefer to use the Camelbak. The pouches on my back with gear in them are canteen pouches.

Episode 22

The group of handlers that we left in Arizona had completed their certification, with 7 dog teams meeting success. We welcomed them to Afghanistan and into the tent, bringing our number to 15. Some of the handlers had switched partners to a dog more suited to their personality. Adam, a soldier from my unit that I had deployed with to Iraq, was paired up with a goofy black Lab by the name of Midnight, who matched his personalty to a tee. Both of them were loud, full of fun, and did everything with carefree abandon. When they were around, it was the Adam and Midnight show.

We spent a couple of days showing the new handlers around and letting them get settled in before we started training together. We tried to prepare the new handlers for the decrease in ability they were going to experience until their dog's acclimatized, but they didn't listen any more than we did. They had just passed certification and were riding that high right into their first day of training in Afghanistan. On their third evening in country, we headed out to the same gravel lot where Fama had her first miss a month prior. I volunteered to go first.

The new group of handlers were standing behind us, out of the search area, so they could watch. Gary decided to take it easy on them and let them know where the hide was located, in case their dog's had trouble locating it. Fama was walking across the gravel like she was borne on the stuff. I sat her next to me, unhooked her, and put her to work. She took off like she was shot out of a gun, butt up, nose down, working like a champ. She made half a pass across the lot and snapped around, rocks flying from her burn out. She didn't even bracket the odor. It was like she buried the bomb and was running out to show us where it was located. She sat down, waiting for the ball, which was quickly on it's way. It was simple as that, after a month of training, playing fun games all over the FOB on every surface imaginable and running for hours on paved roads and gravel paths.

We went around the corner to where Luchian was waiting and ran a route clear that Fama handled with as much ease. Luchian and I were talking about the new group and their certification in Arizona while she was working, jetting around like a puppy again, looking like the Fama of old. Finding the bomb and making it look easy was the norm, and my trust was coming back. I returned to the truck and put Fama up after getting her some water and throwing her Nylabone in her crate, which I had place a short distance from the rest of the group. Fama still didn't play well with others in her crate.

I walked back to the first venue to watch the other handlers run, anxious to see how the late arrivals performed. John was walking up with Taz when we heard Fama go nuts back by the truck, issuing a string of death barks in a fury. We turned around in time to see Travis, one of the new group, stumble backwards and fall on his butt. It seemed he walked down to Fama's crate to investigate and she let him know just what she thought of him.

John looked at me with a smile. "Got him."

"They never learn," I said.

Travis dusted himself off and ran to join us, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

Taz, Bruno, Griff, Chatsi, Alex, Bak, and Fil all performed flawlessly on both venues, and it was time for the cherries to get their feet wet. We were all hoping for the best, for the handler's sake, but it was not to be. Most of the dogs struggled with the harsh surface of the gravel, some of them almost refusing to walk, let alone search. We tried to help lift the spirits of the handlers, but there was nothing we could say except that it would get better. We knew how they felt, and it was not fun having your ego crushed on such a simple venue.


The next morning, we ran another couple of short venues that Fama performed well on, but our total working time was only about 15 minutes, which didn't even put a dent in Fama's daily supply of rocket fuel. She was jumping around the room, tossing toys and boots around, trying to get me to play, but it was almost 130 degrees outside, and I didn't feel like running in the heat, so I decided it was time to train Fama to run on the treadmill. I broached the subject with Gary and he thought it was a great idea, but that we shouldn't stop at training Fama. All the dogs could benefit from some afternoon PT (Physical Training), so we would just line them up and train them all.

Gary, Luchian, Fama and I headed to the gym, located a short walk away from the tent, and talked with the head guy in charge of the gym to be sure that it was acceptable for us to bring our dogs in to train. Fama and I waited outside during the negotiations, playing fetch with a couple of tennis balls to get her warmed up. Luchian stuck his head out the door and called us in to begin our training. Fama and I walked through the door and activity came to a standstill in the tent. You would have thought a chimpanzee just rode a unicycle into the gym.

Fama had never been on a treadmill, but I didn't foresee any trouble with her. She had always handled new situations with aplomb. Gary and I quickly developed a training plan, and got to work. I rolled a tennis ball up the track in front of Fama, restraining her by her harness, and then let her go up and get it. She grabbed the ball without a second thought. I did this a few more times, having a big party every time she got up on the track. then I put her between my legs, up on the treadmill, supporting her by her harness, and Gary started the machine, bumping the speed up to a gentle walk. It was like Fama had been doing this for years.

She walked along, wondering why all of us were hooting and making oggie-boogie noises. Gary bumped the speed up to a trot, Fama easily keeping stride. I loosened up on her harness, eventually letting go all together. In the matter of 5 minutes, Fama was running on the treadmill all by herself. I handed the leash to Gary and stepped off the back of the track to see how she would react. After just a few small tugs on the leash she settled into a rhythm, happily jogging along with her tongue flapping slobber on my face as I knelt in front of her giving words of encouragement. We had quickly become the center of attention in the gym. People were crowding around the treadmill taking pictures and asking questions. After 15 minutes of running and a 5 minute cool down, I took Fama back to the tent to cool off and headed back to the gym to help train the other dogs.

Bruno was next in the gym. He announced his presence by happily barking up a storm for the first 2 minutes, biting a full water bottle, shaking water all over the floor and chasing a stray ball across the room at high speed, scattering weight lifters this way and that as he pounced on his ball. We continued training each dog through the afternoon, making a huge spectacle in the corner, jumping around like idiots making goofy play noises to encourage the dogs. I had to stop several times due to cramps in my back, and I suffered more than one bite on the hand trying to tease a dog up onto the track with a ball and moving too slow when he made his move. The big surprise of the day was Griff, who was normally a very solid dog, scared of nothing. When the treadmill was started, he sprawled out like a cat on ice, 4 legs heading to the 4 winds. He was not moving, period. The party got full on gay, trying to get Griff into the mood, but he simply ignored us and refused to play along, no matter how hard we tried.

How often do dogs & their handlers rotate from stateside to combat (for lack of a better word)? Would Fama spend all of her rotations with you if you stayed in for her entire duration of working as an explosive detection dog? Fama sounds like she needs a leader she respects to do her best work & it looks like she would do better with just one person. All of what you've written is very interesting!

 Quote: Linda Bransgrove

How often do dogs & their handlers rotate from stateside to combat (for lack of a better word)? Would Fama spend all of her rotations with you if you stayed in for her entire duration of working as an explosive detection dog? Fama sounds like she needs a leader she respects to do her best work & it looks like she would do better with just one person. All of what you've written is very interesting!

Soldiers are placed in "Dwell Time" when they return from a deployment. This is a period, which is currently 18 months, that they can not deploy to a combat zone. It is a mandatory break from deployments. Dogs do not share the same restrictions. There is currently a shortage of explosive detector dogs down range, so when a bomb dog gets back from deployment, they are put on a new handler and sent back as soon as they are trained. It's all about saving lives, and I totally agree with this practice. Fama needs to be finding bombs, not hanging with me in Hawaii, no matter how "right" that would be for her.

If I could keep Fama and stay in the Army as a handler, I would seriously consider re-enlisting. As it stands, I will see her at the kennels when I get out, and will have a chance to tell her new handler what he's in for

David, this will get published. It's just too good not to be, but it will take time probably and most likely be rejected at first (Hey, even Harry Potter was rejected by publishers). Keep plugging when the time comes to submit!

Are you planning to submit it as nonfiction or to fictionalize it? What you might want to consider is submitting a portion or portions of it to some magazines as articles. This way when it's time to submit for book publication you'd already be a published writer. If you do just make sure you don't give up the Rights to the story to the Publisher.

But, no pressure! Getting the story down first is paramount.

BTW, thank you for the 3 episode Fama fix.