CHAPTER 1
AIRBORNE
Location: Classified
Date: 15AUG18
Time: 1800 hours
Welcome aboard, recruit!
Things move fast in the Army, so let me debrief you. That’s Army-talk for “getting you up to speed on the details of the mission . . . and quickly.”
We’re about to jump out of a C-130 Hercules—that’s a big plane! A four-engine turboprop military transport aircraft to be exact.
We’re cruising at an altitude of one thousand feet and zooming through the sky at 115 knots—that’s more than 130 miles an hour—above the rain forest.
The thick trees and dense fog will make this jump even more dangerous, so we have to stay extra focused. We’re linking up with US troops on the ground at RP1. That means Rally Point 1—our first checkpoint. The troops are en route to a small farming village deep inside the forest.
We’ve received intel reports that the enemy has forced the villagers out of their homes and taken the land for themselves. The enemy then placed hidden explosive traps around the village to keep us out. And that’s why we’re here: to find and safely disarm the explosive traps and return the land to the villagers. It’s rightfully their land and it’s our job to make sure it stays that way.
Now, I bet you’re wondering: Who is this crazy dog and why is he about to jump out of a perfectly good airplane???
I’m Sergeant Ricochet. Rico for short. I’m a Belgian Malinois, and I’m a soldier in the United States Army. I was born for this life. Really . . . I was! Back at Lackland Air Force base in Texas two years ago. That makes me fourteen in human years.
And that’s where I met her: Kris, my handler, the woman I’m strapped to. She chose me out of twenty other pups at the base. She said it was because I had so much energy, like a pinball “ricocheting” around the room . . . and the name just stuck!
For the last two years, Kris taught me everything there is to know about sniffing bombs, bad guys, and bacon! She’s trained me since the day I was born. Okay, I didn’t actually get trained to sniff meats, but I absolutely love, love, love bacon. And Kris knows it, too. She always gives me hers because she’s a vegetarian.
Kris also taught me the Soldier’s Creed. It’s the code that she and I live by. It’s what all soldiers in the United States Army live by. It keeps us focused and determined so we can do our job and complete the mission—no matter the situation.
Between the roar of the C-130’s big engine and the whipping of the wind outside, it’s hard to even think, let alone stay calm. But that’s part of the Soldier’s Creed: I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills. It’s our job to stay calm in the face of danger. And it’s our duty to place the mission first.
Kris gives me a squeeze and a peck on the head, and I know it’s time to jump. She checks and tightens my straps on the parachute. I slobber her with my tongue to let her know how much I love jumping out of airplanes.
“When we jump, count to four, then pull the ripcord on the parachute,” Kris says while sliding the door open. The cold, wet air rushes into the plane.
“Hooah!” I howl. That’s Army-talk for “let’s go!”
And just like that, we’re hurtling down toward earth at almost 120 miles per hour!
“One . . .”
“two . . .”
“three . . .”
“four!”
Time: 1815 hours
We hit the ground. Hard.
Kris secures our gear and detaches me. It’s time to get to work!
We landed in a muddy pig farm on the outskirts of the village, fifty meters from RP1.
My first priority is to scan the area. That’s a soldier’s natural instinct when we’re in an unknown location.
It is late evening and the sun is about to set over the trees, but it’s just enough light to get a clear scan of my surroundings. I can see a faint light in the distance coming from some of the villagers’ homes, which are thatch hutches made from trees.
I finish my initial scan. Not much to see here: no bad guys, no bombs, and aside from the pigs, there’s definitely no bacon!
We link up with the other soldiers. Kris looks at her map and calls out to me, “Rico, go left. We’re half a klick from the bad guy’s hideout.”
Klick is Army-talk for “kilometer.”
This way. Hooah!
Time: 1845 hours
I’ve got the village in my sight. Let’s move out.
I watch as Kris uses hand and arm signals to silently communicate with the rest of the soldiers. They follow her signal and we all start to stealthily crawl through the grass toward the village.
I have so many different smells coming into my nose: the dirt, the trees, the air, the sweat dripping off the soldiers. I can still smell the pigs and they’re half a klick away! I smell everything, but what I’m sniffing for is chemical powder, TNT, or dynamite. These smells alert me (and Kris) to where the enemy has hidden the explosive traps. Our intel reports show that they have set up ten bombs around the village.
I stop and close my eyes to focus all of my attention to my nose. I breathe in and out quickly, lowering my nose to the ground.
And then, just like that, I’ve got a scent. My ears perk up and I look to Kris. She knows I’m on to something. She begins following me—quietly and closely—as we march through thick, wet mud. I’m filthy, but it doesn’t stop me: We’ve got a mission to do. We move quickly through the terrain, passing thickets and shrubs, following the scent.
Then I stop.
I motion with my head and point with my nose to an innocent-looking pile of leaves and twigs. But I know it’s anything but innocent. I watch as Kris approaches the pile and slowly begins to remove the leaves . . . revealing a trip-wire bomb.
Kris carefully cuts the wire and we keep moving. She pats me on the head to let me know I did a good job. We would have been toast.
We continue making our sweep around the village, uncovering bomb after bomb. Kris silently motions out to the soldiers to “set up a perimeter.” This means to arrange themselves in a big circle to keep us safe while we finish our sweep looking for bombs. In all, we uncover nine. Sometimes intel reports aren’t 100 percent accurate.
We begin surrounding the enemy forces. They take one look at us and know they are outnumbered. We watch as they quickly retreat into the dark.
Finally, when we make it to the edge of the village, the villagers come out of hiding in the forest and greet us with smiles and hugs. They invite us to stay for dinner.
Time: 1930 hours
I watch as they build a fire and begin roasting one of the wild hogs. We sit around the fire and the villagers sing songs for us. What a great day to be in the Army. The villagers get to keep their land and we get to load our bellies up with some hot chow! That’s Army-talk for “food.”
While the villagers are singing and my fellow soldiers are relaxing, I catch another scent.
It’s so potent, so overwhelming. It’s absolutely intoxicating.
I begin following the trail. It smells like . . .
BACON!
But I can’t slow down when there’s . . .
By the time I realize it’s not bacon, it’s too late.
