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Tony Montoya
981 st MP
1971 - 72

Some Dogs Brought Back Home
Patches, M808, was going home...back to the States..I couldn't believe it! When I asked to be transferred from Cam Ranh Bay I never thought it would end up that way.
The heavy use of drugs in Cam Ranh in 1971 was getting to me. I didn't indulge myself, but many others did and it made it dangerous on the perimeter. The guards in the bunkers and towers behind me would get so freaked out on drugs they would shoot at anything that moved...including me and Patches.
Then one night, at the EM Club at Dong Ba Thin, across the bay from Cam Ranh, a drugged out soldier sprayed the club with M-16 fire. I hit the floor, thinking I didn't want to die this way...not by a druggie, in a bar...hell I didn't want to die at all.
I stayed on the floor, looking through the broken chairs and tables to see where the crazy man was and I could see that the guy next to me had been hit. He was bleeding all over. I pulled closer to him to see if I could help. The druggie was overcome by someone and taken away. The bleeding man next to me died in my arms...three other Americans were killed in that EM Club that night. I had to get out of this place...NOW!
Two weeks later, I got my wish. Patches and I were transferred from Cam Ranh to the Dog Training Detachment at Bien Hoa. I was told I would be involved in the reassignment of American dogs. The U.S. was pulling out and we all knew the dogs couldn't go home, so we assumed they would be put to sleep. Dogs from all over Vietnam were sent there to be evaluated and examined. That is when I found out that some of them would be going home, as long as they passed all of the tests.
"Hey Sarg," I asked, "I thought our dogs couldn't go home?" "Yeah, but I guess the orders are to try to send some home, if we can," he replied. I found out later that some Congressmen had been pushing to bring all of the dogs home. (See Kilo-9)
There must have been 150 dogs at the Detachment. The kennel was full and we had two other stake-down areas full of dogs. The dogs were placed in quarantine for about a month. Then each dog was dipped in Malathion, his teeth were cleaned and he was evaluated by the veterinarians. They were looking for anything that might be wrong with the dogs.
Slowly the dogs were weeded out. Most were transferred to the ARVN. I hated to see that. It was really strange. We drove the dogs over to the ARVN side of the base at Bien Hoa, along with a whole truck load of horse meat. When we got there, to hand the dogs over, none of the ARVN wanted to come close to the dogs. We had to get the dogs off the trucks ourselves and take them to their stake down area. The Vietnamese were so small. The dogs were bigger than they were and the ARVN were pretty scared. Eventually, one of the ARVN officers took control of the situation and the dogs. We drove back to our side of the base wondering what would become of those dogs.
Almost all of the dogs not transferred to the ARVN were put to sleep. They were the dogs that had something wrong with them or were too old to be transferred. In the end, out of about 150 dogs, we were left with just 35. Patches had made the cut and was going home. I can not express in words how I felt when I saw his name on the list of dogs to be sent home. Captain, the dog of my best friend, Paul Christopherson, was going home too.
In late February, I was awaken from a deep sleep by my sergeant. "Hey Montoya, the handler who was going to take the dogs home can't do it...he's leavin' before the dogs do. Do you want to take them home." I woke up quick. I thought for a moment. " Well, not really. I mean I want to take 'em home, but I am afraid of going to the States and then coming back here. Sarg, I am not supposed to get out of here until June. You know they aren't going to give me an early out." Sarg smiled and said, "We'll see."
On February 22, 1972, I got my orders. They read " Following individual will proceed on TEMPORARY DUTY as indicated and will return to permanent station upon completion of temporary duty. Temporary duty at CONUS. Will proceed on or about March 3, 1972 for approximately 2 days to transport excess military working dogs to CONUS." I could also take a two week leave and I was told, verbally, that I would not be returning to Vietnam. They said I would spend the rest of my time in the Army in the States. This was it, I was going home, and Patches was going with me!
Early on the morning of March 3, we began loading up our 35 dogs into their shipping crates and then onto the big C-141 headin' home. We were to be the only cargo. The shipping crates were the kennel type, a door on one end, three rows of holes on all sides and a slot to feed and water them through on the right side. Our CO was new, a LT who was with a tank company before being transferred to the Dog Training Detachment. He was a West Point grad and his job was purely administrative. He didn't know anything about dogs. Had never touched one. But...the cameras from Stars and Stripes were there. "Tony," he said, sort of sheepishly. "Muzzle up one of your dogs. The photographers want a picture of me and a dog." Right I thought, I am sure they want a picture of you. The handlers are doing all the work and are the only ones qualified to handle the dogs, but of course it makes more sense to have the CO with the dog. I grabbed Dogie, who was the tamest of the dogs. To this day, I wish I had picked a different one. I muzzled him and walked him over to the LT. He took the leash, and pushed Dogie into the shipping crate. The photographers took their pictures and the LT made it into the S & S. Ah, but it wasn't the last I would see of an officers intellect.
I was walking back from the plane when a full-bird called out to me. "Specialist!" he snapped, pointing at my handler's equipment hanging from my web belt "You can't take that stuff home with you." "Sir," I replied. "On this flight I am the only handler aboard. If something happens and one of the dogs gets loose I am the only one that will be able to keep him off the pilot's throat." Looking a little bewildered, he sort of looked around to see if anyone had heard him make such a stupid mistake. "OK soldier. I guess that makes sense." He swiftly departed the scene.
When we finished loading the plane, three of us, the veterinarian, Captain Rubert Haight, SSgt. Joe Palmer and I got on and the big tail door closed. We took off before noon. We were going home!
We went through Clark AFB, in the Philippines, then Yokohama, then onto McChord AFB in Washington state, and finally down to Lackland. In Yokohama we had the chance to get off the plane. Man, was it cold. There was SNOW on the ground! I ran into the terminal to clean up in the bathroom. When I got to the bathroom all I could see was OD green. There was a long line of marines behind each basin. They were heading home from Okinawa and Japan. I stood in the doorway in my jungle fatigues, a green towel around my neck and a shaving kit in my hand. A Marine first sergeant came up to me. "Soldier," he asked. "Did you just come in from 'Nam?" "Yep," I replied. " I am taking some of our dogs home to the States." He looked at me, and probably smelled me too, and yelled, "OK, give this guy some room. He's just in from 'Nam and needs to clean up." One entire line moved..leaving a basin completely empty so I could wash. He said to me, loud enough for all to hear, "Those dogs sure saved a lot of lives. Good to see some of them are going home." That moment was the best "homecoming" one could ever hope for. On the flight home, I talked to Patches a lot, but he was out of it most of the time. The dogs were drugged by the vet so there would be no problems during the flight. There were none. The only thing we had to do was make sure they had water and they didn't choke on something. We did not feed them during the 33 hour flight and that is probably for the best. Even at that the whole plane smelled pretty bad. I tried sleeping in the jump seats, but finally gave up and slept on the plane's steel floor.
As soon as we landed at Lackland some handlers from the training center came on board. One handler wanted to know which dogs were the toughest to handle when another guy bragged, "No problem, there is no dog too tough for us." With that I walked off the plane got in a truck and drove away.
After a two week leave, I was ordered back to Vietnam. I knew all along the promises made to me would be broken. They always were. On the plane back I got more than a few stares from all the green troops going to Vietnam. There I was wearing faded and worn-out jungle fatigues..out of uniform I know, but I sure as heck didn't care.
When I got back in-country, they had no idea what to do with me. They thought I was going to stay in the States. I went to Cam Ranh and for the next month waited to go back home.
To this day, I am happy and proud that I was chosen to take some of our dogs home. I can also rest with the fact that Patches came home, but I will always regret that I never got the chance to say good-bye to him while he was awake. He was my closest friend and companion during a very adverse time. I am glad to say that Patches was a part of my life, and I am proud to say they I was able to be a part of his. I miss him.