A Dog Named Roach

 

By Ken DeHaas

2/1 H&S 70-71

 

Here’s a little anecdote about a dog named Roach.

 

Not to be confused with your everyday pampered, overfed, tolerably clean, indoor / outdoor, kiddie friendly, please please pet me, I only drool a little bit all American mutt.

 

Roach was a mongrel of the highest order.  Born and bred in the dog eat dog squalor of Vietnam, he managed to survive by utilizing his unmatched cunning, savage opportunism and a fight to the death mentality.  Any Marine would be proud to claim this warrior cur as his own!!

 

Needless to say, when the US military began to spring up in the jungle, villes and paddies, it was akin to ringing the big dinner bell.  Those mongrels seemed to pick up the scent of humans and their food from hundreds of clicks away.  Of course many ravenous canines gravitated to the command centers and base camps.  My base camp was Camp Lauer, 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment, Echo, Fox, Golf, and Hotel.  Roach, Dude, Dudess, and many other bowwows found a temporary home with 2/1.  But, make no mistake, Roach was the head DOG!

 

Seems that after a set time determined by Roach, no more immigrants would be allowed in.  And believe you me; he personally enforced the no wannabe policy.  Any runt that had the bad fortune to breach our perimeter would soon be in for a world of hurt.

 

I do remember one time when I was one of many Marines that served as the ring ropes for Roach’s battle circle.  His opponent was an incredibly naïve outsider.  The preliminaries began immediately.  Snarling, snapping and foaming at the mouth, drawing the proverbial line in the sand, so to speak.  Right when it seemed that the stupid pooch was history, our champion put his very eminent death charge on pause.  We knew right away what our prize fighter wanted.  More enthusiasm and motivation from the home team.  We gladly obliged.  Get some Roach!, Kill Kill Kill!, Rip his throat out!, You the dog! OOH RAH!!! And with those heart felt words Roach was transformed into a whirling dervish! When the dust settled all we saw was a whupped, yelping flea bag hauling ass.

 

Thatta Boy Roach!

 

I echo the words of 2/1’s Atomic Ant, when I say “Roach was the damnedest dog I ever saw”.