On the Wrong End of a Sentry Dog09/14/2009
by Robert M. Hoffman
It was a cold November morning in 1968, at Lackland AFB. A whisp of snow had fallen that morning so I donned my field jacket to stay warm during our morning Sentry Dog class.
It was a search and destroy class. I was picked to be the bad guy. Armed with a .38 with blanks I was to hide and remain still. The Sentry Dog team was to quarter his post 'till my scent was picked up. This was an on-leash no-muzzle training exercise.
Well, as the dog picked up my scent, he began to growl and pull on the leash, as they approached, I was to run, firing the pistol. The handler was to follow for a short period then order me to stop, at which time I was to put my arms up and halt.
All good in practice, but as fate would have it, the handler by mistake, as I was running, released his partner. All I remember was looking over my shoulder and thinking OMG this is it. I quickly dropped face down and covered my head. I felt two paws on my back and some very scary tearing of cloth.
In the distance I can recall many voices yelling something to the effect of "Get that dog Airman, NOW". All I could do was hope my fatigue jacket held out long enough. Thank God it did, although ripped to shreds. The funniest thing was, while laying there face down all I could think of was a big bowl of ice cream. In retrospect, I remember thinking, Thank God I'm on the right end of this leash, Heaven help the VC that is on the wrong end, because Stoltz M-126 would treat him like a chew toy. |