thedrifter
06-27-08, 07:23 AM
"From Baghdad to America: Life Lessons from a Dog Named Lava"
By SCOTT EYMAN
COX NEWS SERVICE
Thursday, Jun. 26 2008
Two years ago, Lieutenant Colonel Jay Kopelman wrote "From Baghdad With Love,"
the story of how he fell in love with a puppy while serving with the Marines in
Iraq. The dog had somehow gotten himself trapped in a 55-gallon barrel, but
made enough noise to be heard in the middle of a firefight. A Marine named
Forrest Baker risked his life to rescue the dog.
After many travails, Kopelman decided that he had to make sure that the dog
survived. All this was in direct contravention of General Order 1-A, Prohibited
Activities, which forbids soldiers adopting pets or mascots, more or less
because pets soften people up and get in the way of the proper business of war,
which is killing.
Kopelman got the dog that he named Lava out of Fallujah, then to Baghdad,
where, with the collusion of NPR correspondent Anne Garrels and a slew of other
people who risked their security clearances and, at times, their security, got
the mutt smuggled out of Baghdad and into America.
A little book from a little publisher, "From Baghdad with Love" ended up on the
New York Times bestseller list, and, if you haven't already read it, I commend
it to your attention. Why it hasn't been made into a movie is beyond me -- it
even has an honest happy ending.
"From Baghdad to America" brings the story up to date, and fills us in on
Kopelman's life with Lava, and his new family in America. Retired from the
Marines, newly married, with a stepchild and a new baby, Kopelman still seems
surprised about the strange hold Lava has on him. Kopelman didn't grow up with
dogs, never cared all that much about dogs, but here was this "feral mutt with
a shepherd-y thing going on ... a case of nerves and bravado."
But he comes to realize that dogs affect a lot of people that way. He prints a
batch of the letters he got as a result of the first book, letters from
soldiers who served in World War II, Korea and Vietnam, who felt compelled to
write Kopelman and tell him the story of the service dogs or mutts they worked
with or just fell in love with during their own combat.
As it turns out, Lava's life of risk isn't quite over. The new book opens with
Kopelman letting the dog off his leash, after which he is promptly clobbered by
an SUV. As Kopelman writes in a fit of self-loathing, "What kind of a------
saves a dog from Iraq only to let him get killed by a car in San Diego?"
Eight thousand dollars later, the dog's fine. More or less. Which is just about
the situation Kopelman is in as well, for both man and dog have continuing
issues.
Kopelman was, and -- on the emotional level -- still is a Marine, and it's hard
for him to realize that suppressing fear, hurt and anger is not the same thing
as controlling it. Iraq continues to affect him in various negative ways.
Suspenseful scenes in movies affect him far more than they ever did before, for
instance. Attending a military funeral, he flinches at the honor guard's rifle
fire, a reaction he never had before. And he has trouble controlling his temper.
As for Lava, he's terrified of the ocean. "Absolutely, whole-body-shaking,
refusing to move terrified." Kopelman thinks it's because the crashing of the
waves sounds like bombs.
The dog also goes berserk when strangers come to the door, and he's
overprotective of children (Note to Kopelman: this is fairly typical of
shepherds and even shepherd mixes). Like Kopelman, Lava is irritable -- loud
voices can set him off, and he can be aggressive with other dogs and
potentially aggressive with people, especially if he senses fear.
Oddly, this hard case quickly bonds with Kopelman's cat, although that could
simply mean he doesn't perceive the cat as a threat.
Clearly, both parties in this book could use some therapy, as Kopelman comes to
realize. "Hey, Tony Soprano sucked it up. Maybe I can too." Both Kopelman and
Lava enter treatment, and the dog ends up on a mild anti-depressant, which
takes the edge off without rendering him passive or sleepy. Lava's vet says
that an animal with Lava's background has issues that are simply too difficult
to deal with through behavior modification alone.
"From Baghdad to America" lacks the same punch as the first book because, by
its very nature, it's about a pair of works in progress. The earlier book had a
strong plot -- keep the dog alive, get the dog out of Iraq. This one is less
about story, more about process -- can the dog (and his owner) vanquish what
amounts to traumatic stress disorder.
There's lots of boilerplate here about the emotional ravages visited upon
soldiers: 31 percent of Marines report mental health problems, 38 percent of
soldiers in general, and that's just the ones that are reported. Veterans who
are 20 to 24 have a suicide rate two to four times that of their age group.
It's interesting, it's tragic, but there's too much of it, and it begins to
feel like padding.
But Kopelman can always rouse himself to contemplate how much more Lava has
given him than he has given the dog. "He took my emotion -- love, caring,
whatever you want to call it -- and reflected it back to me, as if I were a
good person. As if I deserved to be loved. Without that, I think I would have
gone as crazy here as I did in Balad, or al Walid, or anywhere else I was in
Iraq ..."
As before, Kopelman's message is clear: Animals keep us human;
animals save our lives.
Ellie
By SCOTT EYMAN
COX NEWS SERVICE
Thursday, Jun. 26 2008
Two years ago, Lieutenant Colonel Jay Kopelman wrote "From Baghdad With Love,"
the story of how he fell in love with a puppy while serving with the Marines in
Iraq. The dog had somehow gotten himself trapped in a 55-gallon barrel, but
made enough noise to be heard in the middle of a firefight. A Marine named
Forrest Baker risked his life to rescue the dog.
After many travails, Kopelman decided that he had to make sure that the dog
survived. All this was in direct contravention of General Order 1-A, Prohibited
Activities, which forbids soldiers adopting pets or mascots, more or less
because pets soften people up and get in the way of the proper business of war,
which is killing.
Kopelman got the dog that he named Lava out of Fallujah, then to Baghdad,
where, with the collusion of NPR correspondent Anne Garrels and a slew of other
people who risked their security clearances and, at times, their security, got
the mutt smuggled out of Baghdad and into America.
A little book from a little publisher, "From Baghdad with Love" ended up on the
New York Times bestseller list, and, if you haven't already read it, I commend
it to your attention. Why it hasn't been made into a movie is beyond me -- it
even has an honest happy ending.
"From Baghdad to America" brings the story up to date, and fills us in on
Kopelman's life with Lava, and his new family in America. Retired from the
Marines, newly married, with a stepchild and a new baby, Kopelman still seems
surprised about the strange hold Lava has on him. Kopelman didn't grow up with
dogs, never cared all that much about dogs, but here was this "feral mutt with
a shepherd-y thing going on ... a case of nerves and bravado."
But he comes to realize that dogs affect a lot of people that way. He prints a
batch of the letters he got as a result of the first book, letters from
soldiers who served in World War II, Korea and Vietnam, who felt compelled to
write Kopelman and tell him the story of the service dogs or mutts they worked
with or just fell in love with during their own combat.
As it turns out, Lava's life of risk isn't quite over. The new book opens with
Kopelman letting the dog off his leash, after which he is promptly clobbered by
an SUV. As Kopelman writes in a fit of self-loathing, "What kind of a------
saves a dog from Iraq only to let him get killed by a car in San Diego?"
Eight thousand dollars later, the dog's fine. More or less. Which is just about
the situation Kopelman is in as well, for both man and dog have continuing
issues.
Kopelman was, and -- on the emotional level -- still is a Marine, and it's hard
for him to realize that suppressing fear, hurt and anger is not the same thing
as controlling it. Iraq continues to affect him in various negative ways.
Suspenseful scenes in movies affect him far more than they ever did before, for
instance. Attending a military funeral, he flinches at the honor guard's rifle
fire, a reaction he never had before. And he has trouble controlling his temper.
As for Lava, he's terrified of the ocean. "Absolutely, whole-body-shaking,
refusing to move terrified." Kopelman thinks it's because the crashing of the
waves sounds like bombs.
The dog also goes berserk when strangers come to the door, and he's
overprotective of children (Note to Kopelman: this is fairly typical of
shepherds and even shepherd mixes). Like Kopelman, Lava is irritable -- loud
voices can set him off, and he can be aggressive with other dogs and
potentially aggressive with people, especially if he senses fear.
Oddly, this hard case quickly bonds with Kopelman's cat, although that could
simply mean he doesn't perceive the cat as a threat.
Clearly, both parties in this book could use some therapy, as Kopelman comes to
realize. "Hey, Tony Soprano sucked it up. Maybe I can too." Both Kopelman and
Lava enter treatment, and the dog ends up on a mild anti-depressant, which
takes the edge off without rendering him passive or sleepy. Lava's vet says
that an animal with Lava's background has issues that are simply too difficult
to deal with through behavior modification alone.
"From Baghdad to America" lacks the same punch as the first book because, by
its very nature, it's about a pair of works in progress. The earlier book had a
strong plot -- keep the dog alive, get the dog out of Iraq. This one is less
about story, more about process -- can the dog (and his owner) vanquish what
amounts to traumatic stress disorder.
There's lots of boilerplate here about the emotional ravages visited upon
soldiers: 31 percent of Marines report mental health problems, 38 percent of
soldiers in general, and that's just the ones that are reported. Veterans who
are 20 to 24 have a suicide rate two to four times that of their age group.
It's interesting, it's tragic, but there's too much of it, and it begins to
feel like padding.
But Kopelman can always rouse himself to contemplate how much more Lava has
given him than he has given the dog. "He took my emotion -- love, caring,
whatever you want to call it -- and reflected it back to me, as if I were a
good person. As if I deserved to be loved. Without that, I think I would have
gone as crazy here as I did in Balad, or al Walid, or anywhere else I was in
Iraq ..."
As before, Kopelman's message is clear: Animals keep us human;
animals save our lives.
Ellie