Excerpt
andlt;bandgt; andlt;bandgt;Prologueandlt;/bandgt; andlt;BRandgt; andlt;/bandgt; andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;WE START THE WALK.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;IED Alley stretches before us, a deserted length of rubble-strewn, sunbaked dirt. To the uninitiated, thereand#8217;s nothing obvious here that screams out violence and danger. To me, gazing down IED Alley is like peering into the very jaws of hell.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;On either side of the route are the broken mounds of shattered earth and the craters where roadside bombs have blown themselvesand#8212;and all too often their targetsand#8212;to smithereens. But luckily, typically, Rex, my search dog, is out front alone and unperturbed, eager to sniff out the bombs.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Iand#8217;ve felt fear every day that weand#8217;ve led these patrols. Itand#8217;s been my constant companion here in Iraq. But this morning, the terror had me gripped as never before.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;It was Rex who gave me the strength to get up and to carry on. He sent me one lookand#8212;andlt;iandgt;Come on, partner, we can do this; you got me by your sideandlt;/iandgt;and#8212;and I knew then that I had to raise my game to the level of my dog.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;I look to my fellow marines as my own brothers, and Rex and I are tasked with keeping them safe from the insurgentsand#8217; bombs out here. Having my courageous, crazy, stubborn, loyal, dedicated, devilishly handsome dog by my side helps me deal with the enormous stress of that responsibility.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;I gaze down IED Alley and give Rex the command, the magic words: and#8220;Seek. . . Seek. . . Seek. . .and#8221; But right now theyand#8217;re rasping out from a throat thatand#8217;s dry and constricted with fear.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;In response, Rex is off. His nose starts going like a suction pump: andlt;iandgt;slurp, slurp, slurp.andlt;/iandgt; Heand#8217;s dropped his muzzle low to the ground, and heand#8217;s vacuuming up the scent just inches off the dirt. His tailand#8217;s horizontal behind him, the end flicked up just a fraction, as his head sweeps from side to side.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Iand#8217;d know that posture anywhere: andlt;iandgt;Here I am on the search, and Iand#8217;m loving it.andlt;/iandgt; Rex always has loved sniffing out the bombs. Itand#8217;s like he was born to do this work. From the earliest days of training he was one of the few and the proudand#8212;an unbeatable Marine Corps arms- and explosives-detection dog.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Iand#8217;m a couple of paces behind him, his lead looped around my left hand. My M16 assault rifle is slung over my back on its sling, and Iand#8217;m gripping my Beretta M9 pistol in my right hand. My rifleand#8217;s too long and unwieldy to use much when searching with my dog.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;If Rex steps on an improvised explosive device, weand#8217;re both as good as done for. But weand#8217;ve been ordered to clear IED Alley so our patrol can pass through it, and the two of us out front on foot is the only way to do it.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;To Rex, clearing the route of death is all a fantastic game. Iand#8217;ve shown him a flash of his rubber balland#8212;his rewardand#8212;and he knows if he finds the target scent he gets to play with it. Itand#8217;s only me whoand#8217;s racked with this visceral, heart-stopping fear, fear that the next step Rexand#8217;s paws take may be his, and my, last.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Rexand#8217;s whole focus is his sense of smell now, and thatand#8217;s how heand#8217;s navigating. Heand#8217;s moving through a world defined by scent. Heand#8217;s tracking smells on the hot, dusty air, his footfalls dictated by the direction those odors are coming from. He lifts his head now and then to check on his locationand#8212;that heand#8217;s not about to walk into a wall or tumble into a ditch.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Weand#8217;re a third of the way down IED Alley. My pulse is thumping like a jackhammer. Every time Rex raises a paw and places it onto the baking-hot earth, I tense for the blast. But I force myself to keep moving forward with him, and the sweatand#8217;s pouring off me in buckets.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Itand#8217;s shortly after first light, yet already the temperature out here must be pushing 100 degrees. If itand#8217;s this hot for me, how must it be for Rex, all wrapped up in his thick, shaggy, charcoal-brown coat of fur? But nothing seems to faze my dog, not even the burning Iraqi sun thatand#8217;s beating down on his head and shoulders.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;I see Rex approaching a small patch of dirt ahead of us that looks as if it might recently have been disturbed. The difference in this area is minimal, just a slightly different color from the earth all around it, as if itand#8217;s been dug up and tamped down again.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;An unusual area of terrain is one of the signs that an IED may be buried there. Iand#8217;m hyperalert, and my threat radar is working overtime. I try to work out what might lie beneath that patch of dirt, because I canand#8217;t let Rex go walking right over it. Not for the first time since we deployed to Iraq, I curse the fact that I donand#8217;t have X-ray vision, that I canand#8217;t see the bombs lying just below earthand#8217;s surface.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Rex pauses just a few paces short of that patch of dirt. His nostrils flare, and suddenly heand#8217;s sucking in great lungfuls of air. He turns his head this way and that, sampling the scent, until heand#8217;s got his nose pressed up tight against the hot mud of the earth.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Rex snuffles hard a good few times, then glances back at me. His sparkling amber eyes are wide with the thrill of the search. Thereand#8217;s an unspoken bond between us. I can read his every expression, and I figure I can pretty much read his mind.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;This look means: andlt;iandgt;Hey, I really think Iand#8217;m onto something here.andlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;Easy, boy, careful,and#8221; I whisper at him. and#8220;Easy does it, Rexy. What you think you got there, boy?and#8221;andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;He moves ahead a foot or so until heand#8217;s level with the patch of dirt. His muzzle swings left and right, before heand#8217;s staring right at it. He pokes his snout forward, until heand#8217;s sniffing at the very surface of that disturbed area.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;His entire body goes rigid. He gives me a quick, intense, piercing look: andlt;iandgt;Freakinand#8217; hell, get in here and check this out!andlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;I feel my blood run cold. Rex never false respondsand#8212;signaling that heand#8217;s found something when actually he hasnand#8217;t. Thereand#8217;s some kind of explosive device buried right in front of my dogand#8217;s nose, of that I am 100 percent certain.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;I donand#8217;t know why Iand#8217;m sureand#8212;it can only be in response to the unspoken message thatand#8217;s flashed between Rex and meand#8212;but I lunge forward, and with one hand I grab his collar and haul him backward.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;In my mindand#8217;s eye I can picture a gleeful Iraqi insurgent hunched over a detonator device, punching the firing pin, and hoping to blow the shaggy dog and his handler into shreds of flesh and gore.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;With my free hand I reach for my radio so I can send out an alert to the rest of the patrol strung out behind us. I press the Send button and yell out a warning: and#8220;Thereand#8217;s aand#8212;and#8221;andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;My words are lost in this deafening roar of an explosion. I hit the dirt and elbow myself forward and dive on top of Rex, to shield him from the blast. But an instant later I sense that itand#8217;s not the bomb in front of us thatand#8217;s gone off. If it were, weand#8217;d both be dead by now.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Just to the east of us above the palm trees, a massive plume of smoke and debris is fisting into the sky. An IED has been triggered there, to one side of our road.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;The harsh, juddering crackle of gunfire thunders out of the smoke and dust as the insurgents unleash a barrage of fire in a follow-up attack. I roll across Rex, getting my body between him and the pounding gunfire.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;Iand#8217;m wearing body armor; Rex isnand#8217;t. Iand#8217;m not about to let anyone shoot my best buddy. I wrap all six feet of me around him and pull his thick fur in tight against me.andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;As I hold him there, I whisper into his ear: and#8220;Itand#8217;s okay, boy, itand#8217;s okay. Itand#8217;s all gonna be all right. . . .and#8221;andlt;BRandgt; andlt;BRandgt;and#169; 2011 Mike Dowling