9781451635973

The thrilling and inspiring story of a U.S. Marine and his dog Rex, a bomb sniffing German Shepard, who forged a bond of trust and loyalty while serving on the war-torn streets of Iraq's most dangerous city. Deployed to Iraq's infamous Triangle of Death in 2004, Sergeant Mike Dowling and his military working dog Rex were part of the first Marine Corps military K9 teams sent to the front lines of combat since Vietnam. It was Rex's job to sniff out weapons caches, suicide bombers, and IEDs, the devastating explosives that wreaked havoc on troops and civilians alike. It was Mike's job to lead Rex into the heart of danger time and time again, always trusting Rex to bring them both back alive. Filled with harrowing tales of knife-edge bomb-detection work, including an extraordinary baptism by fire, Sergeant Rexis a heart-pounding account of how an unbreakable human-canine bond helped Mike and Rex to stay focused on their mission and save countless lives. Dowling takes us into the searing 130-degree heat, the choking dust, and the ever-present threat of violent attack that seemed to permeate Iraq's streets. We experience Dowling's visceral fear of walking down an IED-laden alley where dismemberment or death can come with any footstep, with only his trusted partner, Rex, by his side. A moving story of how a man and a dog developed complete trust in each other in the face of terrible adversity, Sergeant Rexis an unforgettable tale of sacrifice, courage, and love.

Mike Dowling enlisted with the US Marine Corps in 2001. He was awarded the Navy & Marine Corps Achievement Medal for his Iraq operations with his dog, Rex. Dowling currently lives in Los Angeles, where he serves on the advisory board of two wounded-warrior nonprofit organizations.

Damien Lewis is a lifelong dog lover and award-winning writer who has spent twenty years reporting from war, disaster, and conflict zones for the BBC and other global news organizations. He is the bestselling author of more than twenty books, including several acclaimed memoirs about military working dogs—Sergeant Rex, It’s All About Treo, Judy, and The Dog Who Could Fly.

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Prologue

WE START THE WALK.

IED Alley stretches before us, a deserted length of rubble-strewn, sunbaked dirt. To the uninitiated, there’s nothing obvious here that screams out violence and danger. To me, gazing down IED Alley is like peering into the very jaws of hell.

On either side of the route are the broken mounds of shattered earth and the craters where roadside bombs have blown themselves—and all too often their targets—to smithereens. But luckily, typically, Rex, my search dog, is out front alone and unperturbed, eager to sniff out the bombs.

I’ve felt fear every day that we’ve led these patrols. It’s been my constant companion here in Iraq. But this morning, the terror had me gripped as never before.

It was Rex who gave me the strength to get up and to carry on. He sent me one look—Come on, partner, we can do this; you got me by your side—and I knew then that I had to raise my game to the level of my dog.

I look to my fellow marines as my own brothers, and Rex and I are tasked with keeping them safe from the insurgents’ bombs out here. Having my courageous, crazy, stubborn, loyal, dedicated, devilishly handsome dog by my side helps me deal with the enormous stress of that responsibility.

I gaze down IED Alley and give Rex the command, the magic words: “Seek. . . Seek. . . Seek. . .” But right now they’re rasping out from a throat that’s dry and constricted with fear.

In response, Rex is off. His nose starts going like a suction pump: slurp, slurp, slurp. He’s dropped his muzzle low to the ground, and he’s vacuuming up the scent just inches off the dirt. His tail’s horizontal behind him, the end flicked up just a fraction, as his head sweeps from side to side.

I’d know that posture anywhere: Here I am on the search, and I’m loving it. Rex always has loved sniffing out the bombs. It’s like he was born to do this work. From the earliest days of training he was one of the few and the proud—an unbeatable Marine Corps arms- and explosives-detection dog.

I’m a couple of paces behind him, his lead looped around my left hand. My M16 assault rifle is slung over my back on its sling, and I’m gripping my Beretta M9 pistol in my right hand. My rifle’s too long and unwieldy to use much when searching with my dog.

If Rex steps on an improvised explosive device, we’re both as good as done for. But we’ve been ordered to clear IED Alley so our patrol can pass through it, and the two of us out front on foot is the only way to do it.