BLACKIE GETS THE METAL

or is this really brass?

Dismal days, hot and sweaty. Nights spent on post that could be better used for sleeping, "after all, it got down to 85 tonight!" One day following the next. Routine sets in. We start looking for something, anything to break the boredom and rhythm.

"AND IT ARRIVES IN THE FORM OF A BANDY ROOSTER!!!"

Second Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt, all 5 foot 5 and 1/4 inches of him. He's been through OCS, and probably even took ROTC twice. He majored in proctology and minored in smelling salts (in other words, he resembles a body opening).

Right after getting his bar, singular, brass, and unscratched, pinned on, he begs, demands, throws a fit until he gets a "COMBAT POSTING!!!"

Can't you hear the band in the background?

Let me say it again , "COMBAT POSTING."

"TAA-DAA!!"

Flags are waving, hearts are beating, isn't life wonderful? Can you say COMBAT POSTING? Try it boys and girls, c o m b a t     p o s t i n g. Gee isn't this exciting?

Probably got sent out because he threw such a fit that they got rid of him hoping he'd qualify for a fragging. The Bandy rooster has been here 2 whole days and the rumor mill is going full blast. He's checking all the posts!! Asking for the security questions and instructions. Remember those from basic training? What's your fourth security instruction airman? You'd better know your pass word of the day also. Cobra and Tiger (the security police flights that had flightline security during the day and night) were going nuts with the talk of what he had done the day before. Chewed out so and so, done this, done that, you'd have thought he was Uncle Ho and the devil rolled into one entity. And all things considered, he was. And it was announced that he was going to check the K-9 posts.

"TONIGHT!!!"

Now the reader has to understand the differences this poises. Second Lieutenant pain-in-the-butt is all spit and polish, pressed and double starched. Just out of the tailors, the bath, and basic training. With a class 1-A me-officer, you-enlisted-man attitude. He's come over here to straighten us out and win the war for us single handedly. And we're supposed to be happy to see him.

Sentry dog handlers are somewhat the opposite. Our uniforms are clean, or at least they once were. I doubt if they have ever seen an iron or been anywhere near starch, (if potato spills at the chow hall don't count). Boots, without exception, have never been polished, we do however hose the mud off of them, and manage to wash our socks at the same time. Generally our hair is cut and we don't smell too bad, unless we're in a group but individually we're tolerable. We were taught to march in basic training and probably have done it at least once since then.

On the plus side, most of us do walk upright, have controlled our drooling, and can speak in intelligent sentences. Those who can't, have their dogs do the talking for them. There are a few recorded cases where you did get a better qualified answer by asking the dog and not the handler but lets not go into that.

We generally tend to keep amongst ourselves.

At guardmount we are informed that the Flight Sergeant and Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt will be making the rounds together tonight, so be sharp and lets get this over with.

"Yea, sure thing sarge, haven't these jerks got better things to do than bother us, maybe he'll not stop when challenged and we can feed him to the dog. Which post does Lance or Blackie have?" These were the endearments muttered as we filed away to get our partners and start our evening. I got called aside however.

"Dunlap I put you on kilo 17 because I'm going to start the inspection of posts there tonight with you." I get informed.

"Ok sarge, why are you telling me this?"

"Just thought if the Lieutenant met you and Blackie, it may cause him to stand off the rest of the guys, and we never had this conversation and don't mention this to anyone either, GOT IT?"

"What conversation?" I ask leaving to get Blackie out of his kennel.

Blackie, I'm relieved to see is happy to see me and raring to go.

"We get to go play, I get to go play, lets go play, play, play!!! Put on the chain, put on the leash, put on the muzzle, now lets go, go, go!!! Watch out, here I come, I get to go out."

Sometimes you have to wonder if we really deserve such attention and affection.

The walkout posts generally grouped up and took off together as a unit. Each one of us would drop off in our area and it gave us an opportunity to BS on the way out. We were all going over our signals, if we got inspected first, on how we were going to alert everyone else. We carried Motorola radios that were half the size of a cereal box to communicate with. What we would do if one of us got hit by a post inspection is key the mike in a pattern of bursts, 3, 2, 1. Everyone's radio would go Psst-Psst-Psst, Psst-Psst, Psst. Also the driver back at the kennels would do this when the Sergeant walked out to check on us, or if he had to drive him out to do it. Sort of an advanced warning system. We'd get the first warning that they were leaving, then the second when they arrived. Not very original but it worked. Also this way the 2nd post in, anywhere on the line, could check out the one beside them and pass the word down if it was in their area or not that the inspection was happening. Everyone was wondering where the Bandy Rooster was going to strike first. I was wondering what Blackie and I were going to do when he landed on us to crow.

Pealing off first on the way out, I wished everyone else good luck and made ready for my chore that evening. One of the problems with our warning system is that the radio's were always making noise anyway, and sometimes you weren't sure if it was the signal or not. Other times the squelch knob would rotate out so it wouldn't go Psst no matter what. All this was going through my head as I awaited my fate. Added to this was the fact that I had to wear the helmet, wear the gear, can't let Blackie off leash etc., what a pain in the backside!! Maybe we'll get lucky and have a genuine attack and this will be postponed. Well lets get Blackie in a good mood for this anyway. We swept our area and then I kept him alerting on the marines walking the back road and in their bunkers. Of course he thought it was all fun and games. Normally I tried to keep him from terrorizing the marines too much. After all, he had quite a reputation with them and there was no need to keep adding to it. I was startled when I heard the radio squawk, Psst-Psst-Psst, Psst-Psst, Psst. We were committed!

"Lets do this Blackie, watch him!" I put him on alert and we started to sweep our area. The time had come and I still didn't know what I was going to do. Short of letting Blackie eat him, I had to encourage Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt that this was not all fun and games and to want to go play somewhere else. The evening was dark, very little moon and cloud cover to boot. You had to have good night vision to see anything and I was counting on theirs having not adjusted yet. I saw Blackie make them out, abreast of each other walking along the perimeter. I knew they hadn't spotted me yet so I squatted down and let them come to me. When they were about 20 feet away I stood and challenged them.

"HALT, WHO GOES THERE?"

At the same time I allowed Blackie to go to the end of his leash. He knew something was up, and he was playing his part perfectly. Watching and growling, there was no doubt that he wanted some action.

"Sergeant So-and-So and Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt!" Came back the reply. The Sergeant was around 6 foot 2 and with the 5 foot 5 inch lieutenant, they made a Mutt and Jeff looking pair.

"ADVANCE AND BE RECOGNIZED!" I stated, still unsure of what I was going to do next.

They moved to within 7 or 8 feet and I told them to stop. Putting My flashlight beam on them I acknowledged them, them pulling Blackie in close to me, I reported my post as secure and waited for what I thought was the inevitable.

Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt was beside himself. He actually was sputtering in his excitement!

"A-A-A-Airman, aren't you supposed to salute when you report your post as being secure?" He finally forced out.

A light began to shine in the back of my mind, an idea was forming.

He moved closer, within 5 feet now. A moth circling a candle.

"WELL, AREN'T YOU???"

"No sir", I stated. "Regulations say that I am not supposed to salute you when reporting my post because my dog may interpret that as a signal to attack, sir!"

"REGULATIONS? WHAT REGULATIONS?

I HAVE NEVER HEARD OF ANY REGULATION STATING THAT AIRMAN!!!'

  Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt was in full swing. He had fancied that he had caught himself one, and he was going to do the officer squeeze play.

"Air Force regulations regarding Sentry Dogs sir!' I replied. The Flight Sergeant tried to back me up but Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt would have none of it.

"AIRMAN, I HAVE NEVER HEARD OF ANY SUCH REGULATION. I'M AN OFFICER AND YOU WILL SALUTE ME WHEN YOU REPORT YOUR POST TO ME, GOT IT????"

His fate was now sealed. I had been letting out a little of Blackie's leash as I took his abuse and Blackie had been taking advantage of the slack. Whenever we were talking to anyone I had to watch Blackie because he would scoot backwards, trying to get some slack on the leash. Suddenly he would shoot forward, letting the person know that he was there. He scared many a marine and myself a few times until I caught on to what he was doing. Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt was about 5 feet away and Blackie now had about 3 1/2 feet of leash between him and my hand. I took a twist of the leash tightly around my hand and snapping to attention, I said "YES SIR!!!"

Somehow. . . . . . .   I swear I don't know how it happened, but, golly, in the act of snapping to attention, having the Lieutenant yelling and me, starting my salute and all, I accidentally kicked Blackie. I must have been distraught. Normally it would never have happened. . . . . . . . . . . . . .Honest.

Blackie was like a rocket leaving the tube. Tan and Black, and all teeth.   The Lieutenant was in his cross hairs and he was locked and loaded with orders to strike.

He lunged with a fury I hadn't seen since the first time he chased me out of his kennel.

Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt was standing there, reveling in his glory, he had caught a discretion and was correcting it. But this wasn't the way things were supposed to go. He was finding out that he was now not at the top of the food chain, and he was scared.

I watched his face blanch and go white. I don't know what kept him standing there, other than stark terror, but he was having an impression made on him.

A Blackie's attitude impression.

Blackie's feet raked and dug across his chest. Blackie's teeth, which must have looked to be 2 feet long to the lieutenant, snapped just in front of his face, splattering him with his saliva.

I pulled Blackie backwards . "Damn it lieutenant, I told you that I wasn't supposed to salute you!!! Calm down dog!!!!"

The whole time as I was pulling him back, I was pinching him on the side facing away from Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt. The Flight Sergeant meanwhile, was caught between backing me up, and wanting to totally bust up laughing. Knowing what to look for, he caught me kicking Blackie, but was telling Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt that I had tried to warn him. All the while Blackie continued to lunge at Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt and I continued to pull him back and finally just had to take a walk with him to get him to calm down.

It was a strange scene. Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt standing there trying to maintain some semblance of dignity.   But only his laundry lady knew how scared he got. The Flight Sergeant making sure that he's all right and telling me to control that SOB (everyone called him that now). All the while not giving anything away by just laughing out loud at the whole situation. Blackie still trying for just a little taste of officer fanny. And me, telling him that he should behave and mind his manners. I calmed Blackie down and standing about 15 feet away from them, apologized, and repeated that my post was secure. Again not saluting.

I think it was the first breath that Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt had taken since the entire episode began. A little color seemed to appear in his cheeks, his gaze however was locked on Blackie. We stood there for what must have been a minute, nobody saying anything. I was wondering what was going to happen next. Did I overstep my bounds and now was going to find myself in sandbag hell? Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt broke the silence by squeaking out something and then turning, began to walk along the perimeter toward the next post. The Sergeant gave me a wink, and turned to follow him. I gave Blackie another kick which sent him charging out to the end of his leash barking madly. He did make an impression when he wanted to. I watched Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt flinch with each bark until they rounded the bend and went out of sight. Blackie turned to look back at me with that "Did I do good Boss?", look on his face. Kneeling down, I put my arms around him and told him that he did great!

The rest of the evening was uneventful afterwards. Chatted with a few of the marines in Alpha Company, or just spent some time by ourselves in case Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt decided to come back. Occasionally the radio would go Psst-Psst-Psst, Psst-Psst, Psst, so we knew that they were still on the prowl but eventually that ended also. The sun came up and we got the call to come in so gathering my gear I walked over to the perimeter road and waited for the rest of the guys to join me. We grouped up and started the bull session for the walk back to the kennel. Everyone was saying that Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt wasn't as bad as Cobra and Tiger flights had made him out to be. They'd challenge him, he'd stop and watch as they reported their posts, ask a few questions and then move on. Hell the chaplain was a bigger pain than the Lieutenant had been. I listened quietly until I couldn't control my curiosity any longer.

Tell me guys, did he make any of you salute when you reported your post?"

"Salute?? Nobody makes you salute!! Damn dog would attack them if we did that!! No, why? Did he make you salute?"

Downplaying the incident I said that yes he had asked for a salute and just said that Blackie had gone nuts when I did it. I didn't want to replay the entire episode because some of it may escape out and then I'd be in hot water with Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt. I also found out that the Lieutenant stayed back about 10 feet from them while all this was going on. It crossed my mind that he didn't want them to see the stains but who knows? Reaching the kennels I put Blackie away and instead of catching the truck back to the chow hall I went into the office. The Flight Sergeant was in there filling out paperwork and he and I looked at each other.

"What are you doing Dunlap?"

"Getting Blackie a treat." I replied as I pulled out 2 cans of dog food. Normally the dogs got fed by the day workers and unless they had been placed on a special diet by the Vet, all they got was dry food mixed with water. "I figure he's earned a little treat for himself."

Nothing more was ever said about the incident but the 2 of us knew. As for Lieutenant Pain-in-the-Butt, he continued to harass Cobra and Tiger flights but for some reason, was never seen again checking the K-9 posts. And Blackie? I think it took him 4 or 5 bites to wolf down the 2 cans of dog food I placed in his dish. You should have seen his eyes bulge out of his head as he watched me put them in his dish and then slide him the bowl. Almost as good as officer fanny we agreed.