Dogs of War

Soldiers find companionship and comfort with canine friends

By Kyra Kirkwood
Summer 2008

Friendships formed by soldiers in war zones are often lifelong and titanium strong. Soldier/canine friendships built in times of war are no different. Dogs can give soldiers a bit of home in a far-off land or a moment of love during a ruthless mission—and the abandoned or feral dogs find solace in the company of caring people. Leaving their loyal companions behind is too much for soldiers to bear, so often, they do all they can to bring home the dogs they have come to love. Unfortunately, the military prohibits personnel from caring for, or transporting any domestic or wild animals on military bases. Sometimes, superior officers look the other way because they see the need for a moral boost. In other cases, they have zero tolerance for local dogs and order them to be euthanized.

“Many of these soldiers live in fear of getting caught with these animals,” says Terri Crisp, program manager of Operation Baghdad Pups, an organization that operates under the umbrella of the SPCA International, which helps soldiers with the complicated logistics and financial burden of getting a war orphan out of Iraq or Afghanistan and onto American soil. Operation Baghdad Pups formed in September 2007, in the wake of an email plea from U.S. Army Sgt. Edward Watson, who asked for help to get an orphaned dog named Charlie out of Iraq—which they did on Valentine’s Day 2008. Perhaps the most well-known rescue case is of Lava, the dog made famous in the best-selling book, “From Baghdad, With Love,” by retired Lt. Col. Jay Kopelman. When his fellow Marines were unable to keep the dog, Kopelman initiated a multi-tiered rescue effort in 2005, and Lava now lives with him in San Diego. Although their story may be the most famed, it is just one of several war dog tales that are touching hearts everywhere.

MARK FEFFER & CINNAMON
In January 2006, Lt. Com. Mark Feffer, a U.S. Navy Reservist at the time, arrived at a military base in Afghanistan. Feffer had just lost his beloved Golden Retriever a few months before deployment, and was not expecting to fall in love with a local dog. But having a three-month-old Saluki-looking mixed breed dog to play with eased not just his homesickness, but also his grief.

“When you take five minutes with the dog, it’s like you’re home for awhile,” said Feffer of Annapolis, Maryland. “Everything else melts away. There’s no one else to show affection to, there’s no one who will show affection to you. It’s a very powerful escape to spend [time] with a dog.”

Cinnamon adored playing, especially chase. She’d grab anything away from a soldier and run with it, hoping for a good game. Feffer fondly recalled the time Cinnamon snatched his fellow soldier’s cigarettes. “I think he chased her for 20 minutes,” he laughed.

As time came for Feffer’s tour to end in June 2006, he didn’t want to leave Cinnamon behind. But as much as she was his, Cinnamon also belonged to every other soldier on that base. “I didn’t feel right about taking her away from the other guys,” he said. So Feffer asked his fellow soldiers what they thought about Cinnamon going home with him. “Without exception, everyone was like, ‘that’s great’,” he recalled. “We wanted to do this because she needed a better life. She was on borrowed time. It was a way for us to give back.”

Feffer located a private government contractor returning to America who was willing to transport Cinnamon, since military policies and logistics prohibit soldiers from doing this themselves. But when a ticketing snafu regarding Cinnamon’s paperwork held things up at the airport in Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan, the chaperone left Cinnamon there. “He wasn’t about to forfeit his own ride home, so he abandoned her,” said Feffer.

When the plane arrived in Chicago and the chaperone deplaned without Cinnamon, all he said to those waiting to provide temporary care for the dog was, “She didn’t make it.” At that time, Feffer was still in Afghanistan. His dog was missing in action in a foreign country, and he didn’t know how to find her. Thus began the seemingly impossible mission of finding Cinnamon.

Feffer stood in endless lines at an Internet café to send out email pleas, and begging to use the military phone became his daily round. Just as Feffer exhausted all leads, his sister, Christine Sullivan, reached out to her connections at SPCA International for help. After more than a month, they learned that a Turkish airline staffer in the Bishkek airport took pity on the dog and sent her to live with a fellow employee. Feffer, who had arrived back in the U.S., couldn’t believe what he heard.

After many back-and-forth emails, the employee who had taken Cinnamon home agreed to return her to the military base, where Feffer’s connections—including a reliable chaperone—would take over and bring her on the 25-hour journey home. Forty-four days after becoming lost, Cinnamon bolted from her crate at JFK International and into the open arms of an overjoyed Feffer.

Now, Cinnamon enjoys her East Coast life playing with Pete, the Labrador-mix that Feffer adopted from a local shelter in December 2006, or playing outside until she’s exhausted. At the end of each day, Feffer can be found in the guest room, also known as Cinnamon’s room, looking at his sleeping friend who he once believed he’d never see again. “It keeps me grounded,” he said. “I just can’t believe she’s here. It reminds me of what we went through and how many people got involved to help us.”

To help sort through this journey, Feffer and his sister formed a company called New Hope for Animals and published a book written by Sullivan about Cinnamon’s story, called “44 Days Out of Kandahar.” It’s a way for them to give something back to the animals, said Feffer, who also details this journey on his website, 44-days.com. A portion of book profits goes to animal-related charities, such as SPCA International’s Operation Baghdad Pups.

ANDREW BANKEY & SOCKS
For three of his four years on Earth, the black German Shepherd mix with the white paws was a fixture at the coalition outpost in western Iraq. When Sgt. Andrew Bankey, a fire-support noncommissioned officer with the U.S. Army, arrived from his station at Fort Stewart near Savannah, Georgia, he learned that every new unit “inherited” the dog, affectionately known as Socks.

Having learned skills and obedience from each group of soldiers, Socks was an asset to have around. At night, he slept outside the soldiers’ barracks and escorted them to and from the restrooms. Even though it was against military policy, Socks basically went on patrol with the soldiers, keeping unwanted animals and other dangers at a safe distance.

This big pup loved to hug people by leaning into them. Of all those on base, Bankey felt the closest to Socks, who followed him around constantly during his six-month deployment. So when word circulated that another unit would not be replacing Bankey’s when it departed for home, thoughts of what to do with Socks became paramount.

“He was going to be there without anyone to take care of him,” said Bankey. “He probably wouldn’t adjust back to living in the wild again…. He spent enough time over there.” Leaving Socks behind to die wasn’t an option, but Bankey had no idea how to get him safely home. “I didn’t think it was even possible,” he said.

Through his research, Bankey found the SPCA International and Operation Baghdad Pups. Bankey was pleasantly surprised when the transport transpired without a hitch. Crisp arranged for a private security firm to pick up Socks and deliver him to an airport nearly two hours away. From there, Socks arrived at Dulles International Airport near Washington, D.C., on March 13, 2008, meeting volunteers who would care for Socks until Bankey’s homecoming. On March 29, Bankey arrived, excited, amazed and anxious to see his friend and begin their life together at Fort Stewart.

“He has this history of being in Iraq with me,” Bankey said. He noted how having Socks during wartime eased his burden and gave him a bit of peace during turmoil. “It takes your mind off what’s going on. It’s a relief.”

BRIAN DENNIS & NUBS
Every week when Marine Maj. Brian Dennis and his unit, the Border Transition Team, arrived to patrol Iraqi borders near Syria, he knew he’d be greeted by one of the locals: a 2-year-old German Shepherd/Border Collie mix. They affectionately named the dog Nubs because his ears had been cut off (Dennis believes by an someone trying to make the dog “a better, meaner watchdog”). He ran with a common pack of dogs throughout the forts and ruins along the border, but Dennis saw something special in Nubs. “I developed a friendship with him right away,” said Dennis, an F-18 fighter pilot stationed at Marine Corp Air Station Miramar, near San Diego.

Despite Nubs’ past abuse, he acted friendly to the soldiers, keeping them company while on patrol or entertaining them with his antics. At the end of their patrols, the Marines would return to their base 70 miles south with Nubs chasing their Humvees into the desert. When it came time for each patrol, Nubs would be waiting for them. This routine went on for three months, from September to December 2007.

Everything changed when upon arrival to patrol one icy day in late December, Dennis found Nubs in horrific shape. He learned through conversation with local people that the dog was stabbed with a screwdriver, leaving a gaping, infected hole in his chest. Nubs was suffering, cold and near death.

He treated Nubs’ wound with supplies from his own first-aid kid, and tried to keep the dog warm during the 18-degree night. On patrol, Dennis used his downtime to pet Nubs and give him encouragement, but feared that the dog was nearing the end. “I thought we were hanging out for the last time,” said Dennis. “I was worried Nubs wouldn’t be alive when I woke up. It was important for us to try and save him. We developed a bond with him by that point.”

But the next day, Nubs was alive. Dennis left, and he encouraged his canine friend to stay strong, knowing in his heart it would be a miracle if he ever saw Nubs again. Ten days later, Dennis returned to patrol from his base, and there was Nubs, looking almost healed. “Maybe us showing up that day gave him a reason to live,” Dennis said.

Dennis didn’t have to wait until his next patrol to check on his friend, because two days after returning to base, Dennis suddenly saw Nubs standing before him. The dog had tracked Dennis down through more than 70 miles of uninhabitable deserts owned by packs of territorial, feral dogs. “Everyone asks me how, and I have no idea,” Dennis said. “He looked like he’d been through a war zone. He sees me and goes crazy, jumping on me, wagging his tail. He’s all bit up and dirty, and so happy.”

Word of Nubs’ adventure spread around camp, and suddenly, the 100 or so Marines wanted to see the legendary dog. Before long, Nubs became the unofficial base mascot. “He really lifted everyone’s spirits,” Dennis said.

But word got to the higher-ups that a dog was on base, and Dennis was ordered to get rid of the dog by “any means necessary.” There was no way Dennis would abandon or kill Nubs, so he looked into shipping him home to America.

Through online research, asking questions, making connections and spending nearly $4,000 of his own money, Dennis ensured Nubs’ safe passage. Friends back home rallied, raising money and securing a foster family to care for Nubs temporarily until Dennis arrived a few weeks later.

On February 22, 2008, Nubs landed safely on American soil to stay with the foster family, and Dennis arrived in the wee hours of the morning on March 21. At first, Nubs seemed to not quite recognize the Marine after weeks apart, but within seconds of sniffing, Nubs jumped on Dennis, licking his face and whimpering—proving that he did remember his saving grace.

Upon his U.S. arrival, Nubs began training with Graham Bloem, owner and head trainer at West Coast K9 in Encinitas, California, where he continues to be helped with issues such as aggression, fear and obedience. Nubs gets along well with Dennis’ 8-year-old Lab/Chow rescue, Bogey, and is doing well in training. “I think he’s really unique,” Bloem said. “He seems to enjoy the training. He’s showing a lot of his instincts.”

Not a day goes by that Dennis doesn’t sense the bond he formed with Nubs in Iraq. “I feel like we have some common ground,” he said. “We slept in the same dirt, ran around the same ruins, dealt with the same Iraqis. Having him around makes me feel better. A dog can definitely be a huge part of healing and moving on.”

PETER NEESLEY & MAMA AND BORIS
While serving a tour of duty in Iraq, Sgt. Peter Neesley of the U.S. Army died in his sleep of unknown causes on Christmas Day 2007, at age 28. His family was devastated, but knowing one part of Peter still lived—and needed their help—gave them something to work toward.

Peter had befriended Mama, a 1-year-old black Labrador mix, and her brown-and-white-spotted newborn puppy Boris as he patrolled the neighborhoods of Baghdad around Halloween 2007. Mama started with two pups, but one was run over by a car, breaking Peter’s heart.

“Peter was a very caring and protective and sensitive person,” said his sister Carey Neesley, from Grosse Pointe, Michigan. “His big mission was to earn the hearts of the community. For him, [Mama and Boris] were part of the community, too.”

Peter and his fellow soldiers housed the dogs near the base and built them a doghouse complete with a mattress from the barracks. Peter encouraged his sister to send healthcare items so he could nurse the dogs back to health. “They were doing everything they could to take care of them,” Carey said. “It was like a little piece of home…in an environment that was so abnormal.”

Constant emails from Peter throughout autumn convinced the Neesleys he would adopt the dogs upon his tour’s completion in July 2008. He even asked them to research ways to get them home. Within 24 hours of Peter’s death, Carey and her family launched full-force into figuring out how they could grant one of Peter’s last wishes. “They were a part of Peter and they needed to come home,” said Carey.

Carey appealed to her local media, and the story gained national attention. Quickly, strangers in both the U.S. and in Baghdad offered whatever they could to help. The Best Friends Animal Society in Kanab, Utah one of America’s best-known animal welfare organizations, stepped up, cultivating resources and committing to getting Boris and Mama home on their dime—and less than two months later, it happened.

The dogs, cared for by Peter’s friends on base, were picked up in Baghdad by Best Friends’ rescue director Rich Crook, flown to Kuwait, then to Dulles International airport, and then driven 10 hours in a van to Michigan to meet the Neesley family.

“They’ve brought so much love to our home,” said Carey, who cried with relief when she saw them hop out of the car that rainy February afternoon. It may have not been the homecoming she expected, but this bittersweet welcome home still warmed her heart. “In an odd sort of way, it’s like holding [Peter's] child. It has meant so much to us in so many different ways. It was a part of Peter we could have back again. At least something came home.”

Mama and Boris share the Neesley home with two 8-year-old Golden Retrievers, Noah and Gussie, as well as two cats. “Everyone gets along swimmingly,” said Carey. Her 10-year-old son Patrick adored his Uncle Peter, who treated the child like the son he hoped to have someday. Patrick may not be able to play with Peter anymore, but he has his dogs to keep him company—as does the whole family.

“I know it has been good for me,” Carey said, noting how she sees a lot of her brother’s sweetness, mild temperament and intelligence in Boris and Mama. “For dogs who came off the street in the middle of a war zone to end up in bed with us the first night here was amazing. I know that was Peter’s constant love…that gave them that security.”

COMING HOME
Whether soldiers work through SPCA International’s Operation Baghdad Pups, the Best Friends Animal Society or personal connections, they are all after the same result: giving both war orphan and soldier a happy ending. Crisp says their group fields two or three inquiries daily about befriended canines in war zones and while they recognize the inhumane conditions for animals in these war-torn countries, it’s sharply focused on where it can make an immediate difference—and that involves dogs befriended by soldiers.

SPCA International personnel can’t just scoop up dozens of feral strays and ship them here, adding to our overpopulation problem. Nor do they condone end-of-the-tour soldiers picking up dogs from the streets and sending them home without forming a rapport first. Crisp explains that the group helps those who have been living with a young dog for some time and have formed not just a bond but also a relationship. Operation Baghdad Pups insures the dog will be loved and taken care of here, and it tries to gauge how well it might adjust to a new life. “We take everything into consideration,” she said.

In addition to raising funds and helping soldiers rescue their buddies, the group hopes to educate the locals about animal cruelty. Crisp also said it’s their goal to not just change the military rule that makes it forbidden to house a local dog, but to also inspire the military to employ more humane ways to deal with the stray dog population in Iraq. “If we’re putting all this money into helping Iraq get back on its feet…animals have to be a part of that plan,” Crisp said

Kyra Kirkwood is an Orange County, California-based freelance writer specializing in dog reporting. Visit her website at www.kyrakirkwood.com.

For more information or to donate visit:
• SPCA International: www.spca.com.
• Operation Baghdad Pups: www.baghdadpups.com
• Best Friends Animal Society: www.bestfriends.org