The Kuchi Sheperd

Danny came to Afghanistan when he was 23 years old. His grandfather fought in Vietnam and his father in Iraq. When Danny joined and began to serve in the US Army, he knew his service would follow in the footsteps of those who marched before him, but he did not expect his emotions to skyrocket or plummet on the same day.

When Danny first saw the mountains of Afghanistan, the only feeling that could describe the event was awe, but when he saw the distant valleys from the air that were pink, he was shocked to learn the pink was from poppies and much of the heroin in the world came from the opium fields of Afghanistan.

Danny also came to quickly understand that combat was more about getting ready for combat than the actual fighting and gunfights. He also began to understand that living in the moment was the key to focus and therefore survival. A soldier daydreaming about the past or worrying about the future was in trouble. A soldier distracted was a soldier easily defeated. A combatant on the battlefield who was in focus and living in the moment was a survivor - especially if there was help from the most unexpected place.

October at the base of the mountains was a relief because the weather of the hot and dry summer was over, but when the snow started to gather atop the higher ridges, the wind began to bluster and tug out of the north. November for Danny was tough because focus was difficult. Thanksgiving was approaching, and Danny’s grandfather had almost died in Vietnam when he was marching back from a patrol on a Thanksgiving Day.

The week before Thanksgiving, Danny and his squad were eating ready-to-eat meals but were thinking about turkey dinners cooking at home. The latest mission was to recon a village that looked to be about a thousand years old. When the American soldiers began to search the mud-brick buildings all they found of military interest was a few Russian relics from a previous war. They also came upon a few villagers and a single dog who was wandering through the paths between the buildings that were open and empty.

When Danny saw the dog, it came right up to him. Not to anyone else but straight to Danny. The old fellow looked like he was also ancient, but his tail wagged after he began sniffing Danny’s hand. After the squad cleared the village, the MRE’s came out, and Danny could not resist feeding the dog.

After the skinny dog began to eat, he never left Danny’s side. When the troops walked, the old and abandoned Afghan Sheperd walked with them. After a few more shared meals, the dog slept at Danny’s feet.

During the next few days, the cold wind blew harder; the snow started creeping down the mountains, and Danny and the dog, and his fellow troopers moved on to the next ghost town. The ghost towns were the nicknames for sparse gatherings of buildings that seemed to spring up from nowhere. There was no rhyme or reason to Afghanistan other than it was as old as caveman days and many of the poorer people did live in caves.

In a deep contrast to the wide-open, empty, and arid spaces was that everyone knew the enemy was watching. Perhaps from the snow on the mountains or maybe from the lower ridges that were within a sniper’s shot. Another worry was the fact that the bad guys were very good at hiding explosives and making mines. The enemy in Afghanistan was always patiently watching and waiting. The enemy in Afghanistan was like a pack of wolves.

With Thanksgiving only a few days away, Danny, the dog, and the troops were searching another ghost town. This place was easily in sniper shot of the ridges at the base of the mountains and everyone was well aware of the danger. The village was deserted, and the only sound was the footfalls of the American boots as they advanced through the town. The wind was not howling for the first time in weeks, and snowflakes were gently falling from the clouds covering the mountaintops.

As the Americans continued to move through the mud-brick ruins and the buildings that could be holding trouble, the old Afghan Sheperd began to lead the way. “Danny’s dog,” as the troopers came to call him, was acting differently. He was not following but leading.

As a path divided the town with one fork leading upward and the other downhill the Americans dived into two groups and started in different directions. When Danny’s group began to progress uphill, they were following the dog who was leading Danny. No one spoke during the next half hour, but hand signals alone were another sign of trouble.

When the first shots began to sound and echo off the nearby cliffs and ridges, everyone froze. The gunfire was distant but close enough for everyone to realize the other half of the squad was under attack. Before Danny’s group could turn and head toward the gunfight that was building, the Afghan Sheperd moved forward and blocked Danny’s path. The path led around a corner of a high-standing wall and a narrow passage.

The essential moments and narrow escapes of everyday life allow for much more than a moment of hindsight. The moment when the Kuchi Afghan Sheperd blocked Danny and the following soldiers with a troubled look and a stubborn blocking motion was the moment of warning that was enough to save a Thanksgiving. The hidden explosive that detonated on the far side of the corner would have killed anyone not blocked by the Kuchi Sheperd, who was the unforgettable best friend of a man during a true Thanksgiving.