[Bump] I know I”m behind on this and probably lost the momentum, but I also wanted to welcome the Mark Levin listeners! As I said on the air, I’m an active duty Army Soldier and blog here my active duty Marine friend, Marcus. We are proud to serve this country. Below is the story – with pictures – of the puppy I spoke about with Mark. Enjoy! And I hope you check back often. Marcus and I both veterans of combat and have a unique perspective.


A few trips ago I read a book called “Rescuing Sprite” by Mark Levin. Mark Levin is perhaps my favorite radio talk show host. Ever since I finished reading the book, I’ve been trying to call him during his show but I can never get through. So, instead, I posted my story on his message board. I thought that maybe ya’ll would be interested in reading it too since Mark’s book helped me deal with one small wound I came back with – leaving behind my combat puppy. You’ve seen the pictures before, but I’ve never told this story before now.

Mark, I wanted to share a combat story with you about some puppies we saved. I love dogs, but my military service always seems to get in the way of owning one. We had a small jack russell terrier named Jack Jack when we were stationed in Georgia, but not long after we got it, I was deployed to Kuwait. My wife was left to raise three kids, one just a few months old, all by herself. The last thing she wanted to worry about was a high maintenance dog and we had to sell it. I was crushed, but I understood what the stress that having to deal with basically four kids would cause her.

In September 2002, I was deployed to Kuwait to pressure Saddam Hussein to give up so that we didn’t have to go in shooting. From September until March 19th, we sat on the border to no avail. Saddam had to be taken out by force since he wouldn’t leave voluntarily. But, that’s another story. I want to talk about my Iraqi puppies.

The first one we called Elbow. Let me show you a picture of him before I tell you his story.

Me and Elbow playing with plates.

We found Elbow on the side of the road just prior to going into Baghdad in 2003. We had just finished the first Thunder Run on April 5, 2003. As we went back to our combat position, I noticed a puppy on the side of the road chowing down on something. I won’t go into details about what he was munching on there on the side of the road, but let’s just say that there’s a reason we called him Elbow. The battlefield was littered with the after-effects of major combat. My team grabbed the little puppy, took him with us to camp, and fed him real food. We took him as one of our own and he ended up at one of Saddam’s palaces in Baghdad (which is where the photo was taken).

Elbow was a very playful puppy. We’d always come back to our tent and he would have gone through our trash and dragged everything all over the place. We would play with him with our used chow hall paper plates. We’d toss them like a Frisbee and he would energetically bound after it, scoop it into his mouth, and bring it back. Before giving it back he would lick the plate clean. Then we would throw it again and repeat the process until WE were tired. Eventually, my team got reassigned to Al Fallujah and because of the nature of our mission, we had to leave Elbow behind with our Brigade Headquarters. To be honest, I loved playing with him, but I never got too attached. We were still involved in some scattered fighting and trying to control looting in the capital. The whole unit adopted him, so he shared his time with just about all the Soldiers in the wire.

The next story is the one that breaks my heart. As you know, Fallujah was a difficult place to be stationed in 2003 and 2004. Every time we went out we came under fire or got ambushed. I had already accepted my fate that I wasn’t coming home from this war after three close calls. Our unit had just gotten extended after being told we were going to be home weeks prior. Things were not fun, but we completed our mission and maintained our morale as best we could.

On one particularly hard day, we were on our way back to our FOB after dropping off some insurgents we had captured after stumbling upon an illicit weapons market not far from the bridge where the Blackwater contractors would be hung. We were tired, dirty, hot, and coming down from an adrenaline high. Earlier in the day, there had been a large explosion seemingly in the middle of nowhere, but in reality along one of our major routes. No one paid any attention to it. An IED had detonated prematurely and thankfully no one was around to be injured or killed. We kept our eyes open and stayed alert as we later traveled the route on which the IED was placed.

It was easy to identify where the IED had been placed as the side of the road now sported a moderate sized crater. But, we noticed something else besides the shrapnel and displaced asphalt – three small puppies. The little animals were disgusting. They were dirty, smelly, and malnourished. They had also lost their mother! Apparently, the mother dog had stumbled upon the IED and accidentally set it off, sparing her small puppies a similar fate – and probably ours too! Only traces of the mother and possibly other puppies were left. We picked up the puppy that looked like it had the best chance of living and took it with us. Under all he dirt and grime he appeared to be white or off-white in color. His ears were brown and led to matching brown “spectacles” surrounding his eyes. He looked like a doggy superhero wearing a mask. Other than that, the rest of his body was white. We placed it in our HMMWV (Humvee) and continued back to the camp. The dog stunk up the entire truck – which is difficult to do in a truck full of four sweaty, disgusting, unbathed Soldiers!

When we got back to the camp, we cleaned up the little puppy as best as we could and gave it a name: Spooky Voodoolicious McStinkalot! The patrol that day had consisted of two teams – mine, whose callsign was Spook, and another team, whose callsign was Voodoo. We named the adorable little puppy after our collective callsigns and the fact that its odor was unmistakable. We almost got rid of it before making it back to camp. Here are some pictures of Spooky…

I never got any photos of me with Spooky since I was always the one taking them. I never really thought about it. Spooky saved our lives many times. Not literally, but each mission was a promise to him that we’d return to feed him and take care of him. He motivated us as hunted down insurgents and terrorists. Spooky came to depend on us as well and quickly became our mascot. We would take him on little walks around our compound and he never needed a leash. He never ran off and came to understand his name when called. It would be such a morale booster to come home and have a cuddly puppy to snuggle up to and just pet until our stresses melted away. The irony of photos of big, bad, combat hardened Soldiers holding an adorable, cute puppy is hard to miss. Spooky was so innocent and loving and loved to lick the dirt off our faces. He was the most gentle and serene dog a Soldier could have. He never bit and even though he was super hungry, he never stole any food. Even when handed to him, he would gently and appreciatively accept it instead of grabbing it violently from our hands. You could almost out the words “thank you” in his eyes each time he was fed.

In the evenings, we would sit on a stoop outside our windowless building and watch the sun rise or set, depending on missions. Spooky was always there next to us as if to promise it would not be the last one we saw. We promised him we would always come back and fought extra hard on patrols to ensure we did just that. No insurgent or terrorist was going to separate us. But, the Army did.

A few months later, we finally got orders to return home. We tried hard to convince our command to bring Spooky home with us, but they refused. Since the entire camp was leaving, I worried about leaving Spooky behind alone. The unit that had replaced us, elements of the storied 82nd Airborne, wouldn’t take him. Two days before we were scheduled to leave, we found a newly arrived Military Police unit who volunteered to care for Spooky. We all said our goodbyes and handed him over to the Soldiers. We explained what he meant to us and we were assured that he would be taken care of. I haven’t seen him since that day.

Spooky got me through a very difficult time in Fallujah. At one point, I had gotten so sick that I couldn’t stand up or stretch out. My stomach was in so much pain that I remained in the fetal position most of the time. I couldn’t hold food and water down and became severely dehydrated. I literally thought I would die. I had survived brutal fighting as we made our way from Kuwait and fought to take the airport and downtown Baghdad and now I was going to die of a stomach virus. The doc said that I needed to stop eating Iraqi food outside the base. Even in Fallujah, our team was constantly invited into Iraqi homes for lunches, dinners, tea, etc. Believe it or not there were a lot of people who liked us there. Throughout the three days of torturous pain I endured, Spooky remained by my side. Even when the rest of the team returned from missions, Spooky wouldn’t run to greet them as he usually did when he heard our truck roll in.

When “Rescuing Sprite” came out, I purchased a signed copy of it and read it from cover to cover. My eyes streamed with tears as you related your story. I couldn’t help but think about Spooky and wonder if he was even still alive. After all, all hell broke loose in Fallujah about six months after we left and the Marines were called upon to contain the violence and repel the enemy before being pulled prematurely for purely political purposes. I find it difficult to believe that Spooky could have survived all the heavy fighting and bombing that took place, but I try to stay positive.

A few months ago, a good friend of mine, Paulette, wrote a blog post about the passing of her dog named Pepsi. Paulette is a volunteer for the USO and recently won an award for what she did for the troops. She’s never missed an incoming flight of Soldiers returning from combat, no matter what time of the day or night they flew in. As soon as I read about her Pepsi, your book immediately popped into my head. Paulette was having a very difficult time dealing with the loss of her dog and I knew that she needed to read it. Pepsi had an enlarged heart and fluid had built up in it. She was constantly panting and pacing toward the end of her life, much like Sprite did. One day, Paulette went to get let her into the house. She walked through the door, then just fell over. Paulette was scared, but Pepsi eventually got up and was seemingly okay the rest of the day. Pepsi passed away that night. I quickly went onto Amazon and sent her a copy! Here is a picture of Paulette’s Pepsi:

Mark, your book has provided Paulette and I immeasurable consolation. I still miss Spooky and Elbow, but I think I can deal with it a little better now. You’ve proven to me that life can go on after losing a close pet. I didn’t have many pets growing up that I remember. But, when I did, I cherished every moment. I used to love playing with my dad’s dogs when I’d visit for summers in Texas. One was half wolf with three legs. I have nothing but fond memories of Spooky, just as Paulette has of her Pepsi. Thank you for writing “Rescuing Sprite” and for all that you do for us troops. I’m still in the Army and have since been promoted to First Sergeant. I write a military blog called A Soldier’s Perspective where I share stories like this, though I have to admit this is the first time I’ve told the Spooky Voodoolicious McStinkalot story! Thank you for giving me the strength to write it. Unfortunately, I’m now stationed in a place where I can no longer listen to your show, but I subscribe to your podcast and download the shows so I can listen as I get time. Life as a First Sergeant is never ending and I still have a family I need to spend time with. Needless to say, radio is no longer a priority unless I’m TDY.

Update from Marcus: Welcome Mark Levin listeners! We’re really excited you’ve come to check us out and hope that you stay a while. For those who don’t know, I am CJ’s counterpart here on A Soldier’s Perspective.

Please feel free to check out the rest of the blog. We would love to welcome all of you as regular readers of ASP. If you feel the need, both CJ and I can be reached by email. Check the author section for our email addresses. Once again, WELCOME!