IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT


Explosions inside and outside the perimeter. A bad sign. I ran from my tent to the bunker. The sky lit up, silhouetting a reddish cloud. The size of the cloud meant the ammo dump had been hit. My training and instinct said take cover, but the brightly lit sky was hypnotic. I froze. The concussion followed and when it hit, it lifted my body into the air and parked it in a ditch.


A ditch filled with the smell of urine and a stronger smell. Yep, the latrine. I positioned myself on my stomach and tried to stand, but the slope was slippery, and I fell face first into the slime. I didn't think, 'how degrading', not a word you think of when you're scared to death. I lay there remembering all the times I quickly passed by bums in the alley, their smells of urine and feces, dirt encrusted faces, lice infested hair, thinking I'd always be able to avoid that fate. Well, I'm damn close. Life here is showing me another side. The next bum I see will get a real different welcome.


The sound of boots hammering the red clay meant my unit was running by.


"Down here in the latrine," I screamed.

"Can't see you, stick your arm out."


I stuck my rifle out and was pulled out as smoothly as a sleigh in a Maine winter. We made a run for the bunker, but another blast put us on the ground. My eardrums vibrated from a boom so great, it could be how Armageddon will sound. My savior sprinted for the bunker while I lay on my back and watched the light show. The dark heavens were background to flash after flash, as if God had the biggest flash attachment imaginable.


Then silence. Elapsed time was fourteen minutes. The scariest fourteen of my life. I didn't hear any small arms fire, a good sign the enemy had retreated. But our "Rules of Engagement" doctrine doesn't assume that. It dictates we verify the situation, so we headed for the perimeter.


As we took our positions along the wire, Sarge said, "Someone's out there, be ready."


I heard a thrashing sound, a moan, repeated. Someone fired up a flare and Sarge ordered the machine gunner to open up with a warning burst. Didn't want to kill anyone yet, prisoners are valuable intel.

Speaking the local tongue, Sarge shouted the equivalent of "Identify yourself, stand and be seen".


No reply, just more thrashing. The machine gunner put down his night visions and laughed, "Dog, a mutt caught in the wire. Wanna put him outta his misery?"


"Yeah, go ahead," Sarge said.


"No," I yelled. Everyone turned and eyeballed me.


Somebody said, "Are you crazy? You want him to keep up the thrashing and moaning? You gonna go get him? Out there!"


"I'll go," I said.


Sarge moved over close to me, and so no one else could hear, "Son, you ain't the most aggressive one 
here, in fact...I can't loose any people over an animal." 


You really want to do this?”

I nodded, then nodded again.


"Okay, find the green safety markers and follow them over the kill zone."


Now I was afraid. Doubt crowded my mind. My love of animals forced me to speak up without thinking this whole thing through. What about the mines? Maybe there's a sniper out there and this stranded dog is all a set up. A cool breeze touched my face. I think it was a touch from my soul. My courage.
 
Slowly first, then quickly I snaked over the sandbags and along the safety path, scanned side to side for any movement, listened for any critters that slither on their bellies. The dog's breathing became louder. I was close. I looked up and a foot away was the ugliest and cutest mangiest four-legged creature I'd ever seen. It was tangled up in the wire and had several gashes on its legs. My pat on his head comforted him. His breathing slowed and he licked my arm.


"Fella, you've gotten yourself in a fix. Hold on while I get you outta there."


With my rifle as a lever, I freed him from the wire, dragged him out to open space, tucked him next to my belly and headed back the way I came.


I laid him on the sandbags. Sarge said, "What'd you want to call our new mascot?"


"'Found' sounds good", I said with a grin. 


Nobody knew the truth but me and Sarge, the name was more about me than the dog.