#1

It was April 29th, 1977, when I stepped off the freedom bird onto the oppressively hot and steamy tarmac of Clark A.B. Of course, the military, in its wisdom had us in our service dress uniform to enhance the experience.
As I walked across the ramp towards the MAC terminal a myriad of emotions, sights, and smell careened off my senses. The sights, senses, and smells indelibly etched into my mind as those of the Philippines. Like so many others before me, I was met by a representative of the 3rd SPG and carted away to begin a journey unlike any other in my life.
Lets visit a few moments of that sojourn and see what many of us share in common. There are many threads intertwined through the generations of cops and closer to my heart, dog handlers assigned to the Philippines. Dog handlers who for months on end lived in and plodded through the rainy seasons best torrential downpours. Dog handlers who baked day in and day out from the dry seasons oppressive heat, dust, and the islands relentless humidity.
The shared experiences of an intruder catch, with a bite. A chase where it seemed we were just looking for a shadow in the night. The shared camaraderie after the chase despite its outcome was a constant.
The threads of the nightlife downtown woven in the dark of night and unraveled in the morning.
Sorrowful moments like the death of Robert (Bob) Gray (killed by an intruder) and Steve Faust (assassinated at the hands of a New Peoples Army (NPA) coward) just heightened and strengthened who we were and what we were about both as individuals and as Americans.
So many people over the years contributed to my experiences in the Philippines. You worked in Resource Protection, Security, Law Enforcement, Horse Patrol, Town Patrol, animal control, customs, and of course the Canine section and flights.

#2

Let's look at the tapestry of my life or at least a small thread or two and see what stories evolve.
I was still new and Gumby (Call sign 80, bombdog handler) was showing me how to ignite a brush fire with a slap flare just off the north end of the runway (an essential task for any self-respecting doghandler). He demonstrated how to launch the flare horizontally by removing the cap. Taking careful aim in the direction of a thick patch of elephant grass. Last but not least to firmly strike the cap with the palm of your hand so it slides forward and strikes the primer igniting the rocket propelled flare round.
I followed suit just as he had demonstrated, somewhat awed and nervous from just seeing this rocket blast its way from the launch tube. As luck would have it my flare hit a rock and ricocheted straight up into the path of a F-4 on final approach.
This pilot is somewhere in the world to this day telling stories of how he survived the dangerous sorties of Vietnam and was damn near killed by a rookie doghandler.
Alas like all of life's experiences there are lessons learned. My lesson here, always look for aircraft before firing a flare in any direction.

#3

Hodge talks about Smitty and his canine Bo-Jangles as the best damn dog handler he ever saw (the dog was awesome, so some credit goes to the many handlers before Smitty).
Well one night on the leghorn (the north approach ramp to the active runway) Bo-Jangles threw one awesome alert. I told Smitty we needed to go up about 500 yards to the trail, for if we crashed into the elephant grass the intruders would beat feet.
We got to the trail and went down to the washout to check prints in the sand. I guessed 2-3 intruders were up by the flightline fuels depot. We climbed up to the plateau above the wash and set up an ambush.
Twenty minutes later two intruders walked into our trap. As the adrenaline surges through your body and your heart beat races skyward; your body is getting ready. Getting ready for the chain of events involved in chasing any suspect in this remote swamp, densely vegetated, and pitch black environment.
As we released our dogs the intruders froze causing the dogs to veer towards one another. What a goat rope ensued. After a perfectly executed response to the alert of twenty minutes ago, the whole event goes to hell in a matter of seconds.
After we managed to choke the dogs apart, one stupid intruder had stood around stoically to watch the show, a mistake he paid for dearly. Lessons learned included, use of force extracts a price from the user, never forget humanity nor morality in its application. The second lesson learned was I don't care how good you are, shit happens, so be prepared.

#4

Cyclops was the call sign of the pave tack infrared system mounted atop the flightline control tower (identical to the thermal image viewers we grew accustom to seeing during the gulf war).
One night the operator called me up to assist with an intruder sighting. As I arrived, 5 heat images were off the northend of the runway. Now, I suspected it was my canine handlers goofing off, so I asked one of them (via radio) their location. They replied out by vortac, some distance away from the 5 intruders we were watching.
Sure enough as we rotated the Cyclops there they were (my handlers) right where they said they were. So for the next 4 hours the Cyclops operator and I directed horse patrol, k-9 and many other units all over the East Side chasing these 5 intruders.
Despite the high tech equipment and years of experience we lost the intruders to the ravines and extremely thick foliage. From previous lessons learned I knew they would be back. Sure enough after all the patrols were released there they were, continuing on to their objective for the night.
Paul Rutherford and (I think) Opie Dixon were the k-9 handlers giving chase. Up to this point no one in the field had even seen the intruders except the Cyclops operator and myself. I knew they (my handler ) were becoming weary. But alas, I was able to get Lumpy (Paul Rutherford) right up to one of them. He didn't see them and didn't have a flare. A horse patrol member was near bye and I coordinated the flare launch (no airplanes).
The next few moments where so cool because we had worked so hard to make it happen and because everything I was viewing was as an infrared image.
As the flare streaked skyward, the intruder jumped up and pushed Paul down. Paul's canine immediately took off after the suspect and placed his Canines in the rear end of the suspect dragging him to the ground until the arrest was made. Other intruders escaped, all our cops were ok. This chase culminated four plus hours of work.

It was an incredible exhibition of dedicated cops doing a job they loved. Cops who throughout the years, and despite, (or because of) the politics, assassinations, trials and turmoil, harsh condition, self sacrifice, made up the Men and Woman of the 3rd Security Police Group. The same police group that garnered unit award after unit award.
In ten and a half years (77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 88, 89, 90, 91) I saw so many people come and go from the Philippines. All those threads weave the tapestry of many years of my life. Many I owe so much to, and some, sad to say, are fading from my memory.
All the personnel who wove the tapestry of life at Clark intertwined their threads with so many others and mine. Our product was and is a carpet of unsurpassed quality, finer than the best of Persian rugs. In this excellence, we pay homage to our fallen comrades. Bob Gray and Steve Faust, whose legacy is and will be that they served with the greatest Security Police Unit this nation has ever had.

Robert D. Denniston