When man is in trouble, God sends him a dog."
- Alphonse de Lamartine (1790-1869)

THE DOGS OF WAR
Vietnam's unsung heroes finally remembered

By CAROL ROBIDOUX
Courier Times

Asheville, N.C., 1969:

Beth Franz is counting the days until her 18th birthday. A lifelong dog lover, she spends most of her free time with Bodo and Bar, her 15-month-old black-and-tan German shepherds. There’s nothing on earth that means more to her young heart — except, perhaps, the desire to somehow, some day, find a way to make a difference in this world.

Ten thousand miles away, the war zone is shrinking — unlike the body count, after more than a decade of undeclared war in Vietnam. Soldiers, most of them barely older than Franz, are killed daily in the hostile, booby-trapped jungle, victims of enemy ambush maneuvers, land mines or sniper attacks.

An effective strategy in Vietnam is the use of scout dogs trained to alert troops to imminent danger, a practice started during WWII with the K-9 Corps.

Because a dog’s senses are believed to be up to a thousand times more acute than those of humans, their value is immeasurable in enemy territory. Demand for scout dogs is high.

Likewise, the risk to scout dog patrols is also great. The enemy rewards its soldiers who return with the uniform emblem of a felled dog handler or the tattooed ear of his scout dog.

And so it was that, in the spring of 1969, an ad placed in the local Asheville newspaper for donated pets to help the war effort catches Beth Franz’s eye.

Most of all she’s motivated by the memory of Jim Inman, a family friend about her own age that was brutally murdered in Vietnam during an enemy ambush. His body was sent home to Asheville in pieces. If giving up her dogs could save even one young soldier from dying, it would be a small sacrifice.

She answers the call and seals her destiny in one brave and selfless act of youthful patriotism. Hugging her dogs for the last time, Beth watches tearfully as Bodo and Bar are loaded on a government truck and transported to K-9 training camp.

Bodo was soon returned, deemed gun shy and unfit for active duty, but Bar was sent on to Vietnam after 12 weeks of basic training. The certified letter read, "Bar is now the property of the U.S. government. You will not pursue the fate of this dog."

And she never did.

But as fate would have it, a man happened into her barn a dozen years later to see her horses. The war veteran was lured by a roadside sign that read, "visitors welcome."

That day, a chance conversation brought two strangers to tears. One who’d given up the dog she loved in the hope that it might save someone’s life, and that someone, who lived to tell the story of how his heroic scout dog, named Bar, also saved the lives of many young servicemen in the jungles of Vietnam.

That day, Beth learned that heartfelt decisions are never small ones, and that in life, there are no coincidences.

February 2000:

Years passed, and Beth relocated to Morrisville with her husband, Mark Trimmer. But she never forgot the chilling moment when she came face to face with the man who’d been Bar’s handler in Vietnam. In fact, the only thing she couldn’t remember about the encounter was the man’s name. For 19 years she’d tried to think of ways to find him — or anyone who might share her interest in the story of Vietnam’s war dogs.

But the aftermath of Vietnam has not been conducive to reunions. Those who’d lived through the experience learned to live with it rather than to relive it.

And that’s why the story of Vietnam’s war dogs has taken 30 years to emerge. It’s a growing collection of tales featuring battlefield heroics of four-footed soldiers told by former dog handlers. Modest estimates are that dogs serving in Vietnam saved more than 10,000 lives.

There are books, documentaries and Web sites devoted to war dogs, including sentry dogs, tracker dogs, water dogs and scout dogs. The stories are as stirring as they are awe-inspiring.

And they become all the more wrenching in light of the tragic fate that befell the thousands of unsung canine heroes in Vietnam that, like their fellow human soldiers, were stripped of the usual honor afforded veterans of foreign war.

Of the 4,000 dogs recruited, 300 died in action or of illness and another 200 or so were initially sent home. But the directive to return the dogs to the states was quickly abandoned as stability in Vietnam disintegrated.

The remaining 3,500 scout dogs were either euthanized by Army vets or turned over to the South Vietnamese as U.S. forces scrambled to flee the country, said Randy Kimler, president of the Vietnam Dog Handlers Association (VDHA).

"I think the real reason those dogs were left behind was because it was a quick getaway. The war was still going on and I don’t think [the military] wanted to be bothered with having to bring the dogs back," explains Kimler.

Turning a token number of dogs over to the South Vietnamese army was like leaving other surplus equipment behind. Vietnamese allies would have limited tactical use for the dogs.

"And as much as I hate to say it, people were starving over there. Protein was in short supply in Vietnam. Rather than feeding a big dog every day, I think it became a matter of how much meat a dog could supply for a hungry village," adds Kimler.

At the time the mission to rescue and return Vietnam war dogs was abandoned, officials said it was due to the risk that dogs would carry home diseases, or be too vicious to return to civilian life.

"Basically they told us lies," said Kimler, who serves as city manager in Port Nechas, Texas, since retiring from the military.

Historically, war dogs were always brought home with the troops, either released to their handlers, returned to donors or sold to civilians. Vietnam was the exception.

In many ways, the formation of the VDHA six years ago has helped fill the void veteran dog handlers have been living with since leaving Vietnam — and their canine companions — behind.

Part of the healing process for veteran dog handler John Burnam, who served with the 44th Scout Dog Platoon from 1966-68, was writing a book about his Vietnam experience, "Dog Tags of Courage" ($24.95/Lost Coast Press).

"Through the VDHA we now know hundreds of stories. Men are coming out of the woodwork and families of Vietnam veterans are finally understanding what their sons and fathers went through as scout dog handlers," said Burnam.

But it wasn’t until the book’s completion two years ago that Burnam learned the tragic fate of scout dogs after the end of the war, including that of his own faithful companion, Clipper.

"It just drives a sword right through my heart, knowing what became of Clipper and the others. I will never get over leaving him behind and the compound pain of [the military] killing them," said Burnam.

Since forming, the VDHA has been working to publicly honor the unsung canine heroes of Vietnam.

Initially, a proposal was made to create a national monument near the Vietnam Memorial Wall in Washington, dedicated to the memory of the dogs that served.

"When we requested a monument at Arlington Cemetery, we were told it would be a desecration to the veterans to have an animal monument," said Kimler. Instead, officials suggested the organization look for a pet cemetery, a notion that incenses Kimler.

"Those animals weren’t pets — they were as much soldiers as we were," said Kimler.

Media exposure of the travesty of the Vietnam war dogs, including a recent CNN segment featuring John Burnam, Beth Franz and others who continue to lobby for a national memorial in Washington, has generated mounting public outrage, said Kimler.

"We’re a great nation of animal lovers. As long as the American public remains vigilant, it’s clear that something like this will never happen again."

Through her new VDHA connections, Beth Franz has learned that Bar was one of the lucky dogs who returned to the states and retrained as an Air Force sentry dog. His second tour of duty was in Turkey, where he worked until, due to illness, he was put to sleep.

But her fateful journey is far from over. As a firm believer in destiny, Beth is more compelled than ever to tell the story of Bar and his fellow four-footed soldiers.

"I’ve never not had a dog in my life. They bring me joy, laughter, companionship. Can you imagine living day to day, depending on an animal for your life? That kind of interspecies trust? There can be no stronger bond than the one forged working through a war, depending on one another for survival. It’s a whole other dimension," said Beth.

"And I can’t begin to imagine the sadness and pain these men went through, having to leave behind the dogs that saved their lives," she adds.

The kind of pain John Burnam is still learning to live with, that often surfaces, like an old war wound, without warning. All he will ever know about Clipper’s fate is that he died in Vietnam.

"I just hope that when he went down he died quickly, as the valiant dog he was," said Burnam. "I will always have the memory of Clipper and the lives he saved in my charge. And for that I will always be thankful."