Dog Day Afternoon

By

David Beakey

They were stretched out underneath a tree, side by side. The dog handler and his dog. What a team! My squad had never worked with them before, but they sure delivered. They led us right to the enemy. We had to run to keep up. After a brief firefight, I looked around for them. Then I heard the news. They had both been shot. It didn’t surprise me. They had been too far ahead of us and had not only found the enemy, but had become the first casualties as well. And now they were lying there in the partial shade, waiting to be airlifted out of the jungle. There were a total of 8 wounded, so we called for two choppers. The first chopper appeared as if out of nowhere, deus ex machina, settling down to gather up our wounded and whisk them off to the land of sheets and nurses. We put three men into the chopper. The Copilot held up one finger, meaning he could take one more casualty. Two marines went over to the dog handler and started to lift him up. He started shouting and pointing to the dog. Finally, they understood. He wanted the dog taken out before him. The marines lifted the dog up and carried him to the chopper. When the second chopper arrived, the dog handler was placed aboard. As his chopper ascended, I couldn’t shake the image of the two of them. I knew that they had gone through a training program in Nam, but there was more to it than that. They had formed a bond so strong that it transcended comradeship and rested at a level so deep only they could understand it.