War Dogs by Rebecca Frankel

Author:Rebecca Frankel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2014-08-19T16:00:00+00:00

Sergeant Russ and MWD Uudensi, with spotter Staff Sergeant Joseph Tajeda training at YPG.

Each afternoon, after the day of tactical training is over, Hardesty stays to work the dogs and the handlers who need (and are willing to accept) the extra help. He does this instead of heading home to tinker with his pickup truck—a rickety vehicle he’s taken to calling Betty White because “it’s old, it’s white, and it just won’t die.” Like most Marines he doesn’t tolerate laziness, and though his patience might fray from time to time, neither the long days nor any amount of poor showing on behalf of the dogs or their handlers dampen his positive attitude. Except for once.

Army Sergeant Dontarie R. Russ and his dog Uudensi, a tawny German shepherd, are running a detection drill with instructor Army Staff Sergeant Lee McCoy. So far this handler has been a standout in the class. Tactically Russ is tighter than many of the other handlers working through these exercises; he downs to one knee before rounding corners and manages his weapon with experience. On this particular afternoon Russ is doing well. “Fucking awesome,” in McCoy’s words. But when Uudensi starts to alert on human odor (which in the job of finding explosives counts as a false response1), Russ begins to founder. Rather than calling the dog off the distracting scent and moving forward with the search, Russ jerks the leash and gives a flat verbal correction. Uudensi has lost his focus and, ignoring his handler, continues his frantic scratching at the ground.

Hardesty, watching this unfold beside McCoy, steps in. “Be firm, Dad.”

Russ attempts to call the dog off again, but the tone of his voice is unchanged. If anything he sounds even less concerned, almost apathetic. In a flash, Hardesty advances fast in Russ’s direction, his voice suddenly harsh and loud. His even temper erupts. “We’re not fucking around here,” he yells. “Call him back like your life depends on it!”

Russ is flummoxed; beads of sweat have taken over his face. When he short arms the Kong throw for his dog a minute later, he gets even angrier at having to retrieve it. Seeing Russ struggle, Hardesty’s storm passes as quickly as it broke. Lowering his voice, he coaches the handler through. The command for the dog to “come” needs to be absolute, Hardesty tells him. The dog’s urge to respond to his handler has to be stronger than the dog’s desire to alert on odor, and stronger even than his desire to get the reward he attaches to alerting on odor. In the heat of the search, when a handler needs to call the dog away from danger, that dog must respond without delay.

I couldn’t tell what triggered Hardesty’s reaction—maybe he just didn’t want to put up with a piss-poor attitude. But Hardesty also knows what’s waiting for Russ and Uudensi after they leave Yuma. He knows better than most what happens when you don’t keep your eyes open and pay attention.

In retrospect, that

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