Memoirs of an Outlaw: Life in the Sandbox

Chapter 21: Scout

A few days passed before the sorrow from the loss of Vincent and Wilfong lifted. Life had returned to normal, and patrols had resumed as usual. Improvised explosive devices were becoming almost an everyday event; however, we were lucky enough not to have any more casualties, just a bunch of close calls.

Our days were split into three shifts. Eight hours for missions, eight hours as the react force, and eight hours of downtime. Most of the time, my platoon’s missions and patrols ended up being conducted at night. We considered our shift the worst because we went on our missions at approximately 8:00 p.m. and came back at 4:00 a.m. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we had air conditioning in our tents; however, when we came back from patrols, we would only have about three hours of sleep before the morning sun became too hot.

On one of these night patrols, I met one of my greatest and most-missed Iraqi friends. It was around 9:30 p.m., and our platoon was already out on another routine patrol to safeguard the MSR and ASRs. We had received a report that there was gunfire heard near a local mechanic's garage, so we were told to go investigate. The scouts loaded up into the vehicles, and we took off to our destination.

We arrived about five minutes later. There was not a soul to be seen and an eerie silence surrounded the area. The scouts deployed from the vehicles to patrol the surrounding area and check for anything unusual. After patrolling and determining it was secure, I ordered my section to set up a small defensive perimeter near the shop. The area we were near was on a small mound on the left side of the shop overlooking Fallujah. From time to time, I could see a red or green tracer shoot into the sky above Fallujah. Once in a while, a parachute flare would be launched, which gave the sky an eerie glow.

Suddenly, the sound of dogs barking erupted from the right side of the mechanic's shop. Around the corner came three little puppies that seemed to be some kind of Labrador-German Shepherd mix, the cutest little things ever. Sadly, they looked so malnourished; I could see their rib cages poking through their skin.

When they noticed me, they started barking even louder. This was a problem because it would give away our position to anyone nearby. So I stared the three of them down and shushed them which calmed them a bit; however, they wouldn’t come any closer to me. I reached into my patrol pack and took out an MRE. After rummaging through it for a few seconds, I pulled out a beef stick. I tore a piece off of it and placed it in the palm of my hand. Slowly, I extended my arm and opened my hand to invite them to come a bit closer. Only one of them budged, the smallest of the group.

Scout, which I came to call him later, edged closer and closer. His siblings followed suit but trailed a bit farther behind. Cautiously, Scout reached my hand and began eating from it. I tore a few more pieces for his siblings and gave it to them. They were a bit more reluctant to eat from my hand, so I had to lay the food in the dirt. They were ravenous. I went back into my MRE to find some more food and fed them all a little bit more. Once the three little rascals finished eating what little I had, two of them began to tussle a little bit. Scout, however, followed me around wherever I went.

I decided to crawl up onto the edge of the small embankment next to the shop to get a better view of the city. I put my NVGs on to see what was in my immediate surroundings. When I took the NVGs off of my head a minute later, Scout was sitting right next to me scanning the horizon. It was almost as if he were mimicking me, trying to be an actual scout himself.

His siblings ran over the hill and started wrestling a bit on the other side, but Scout stayed where he was. He looked over to me as if to say, "Give me an order." I looked back to the city, and so did he. This continued for the remainder of our time there. While I was sitting there scanning the area, I was trying to figure out how I could take this puppy back to base with me. If it had been closer to the end of the patrol, I may have been able to do it, but we still had another six hours to go and I couldn’t hide him in the back of the vehicle for that long.

Eventually, we got the call "Scouts in!" from my vehicle commander, Staff Sergeant Phelps. I stood up, made sure my scouts heard the command, and then ran back to the vehicle to load up to go somewhere else. Scout came running after me, wanting to load up into the vehicle. He had the saddest eyes and such a questioning look, as if he were saying, "Why are you abandoning me? Please take me with you." It tore my heart.

Our vehicle began to move and kick up dirt.

“See ya later little guy. Stay safe out here,” I whispered as we began to move away. Scout and his siblings chased us for a bit, barking the whole time. The image of Scout staring me down as we took off is etched into my memories.

I don't think I ever saw him again, and sometimes I wonder what might have happened to him. I truly hope he found a home and someone to feed him. I have seen what insurgents use animal carcasses for, and I hope he wasn't one of them.

That night was one of my fondest memories of Iraq. After the patrol, I told myself that when I got home, the first thing I wanted to do was to get a dog and train him to be just like Scout.