Silent Creed

AUTHOR’S NOTE

As I write this I’m reading reports from the National Disaster Search Dog Foundation. In the last twenty-four hours, a Himalayan earthquake — a massive 7.8—has claimed an estimated 2,500 lives. Aftershocks continue to trigger avalanches and landslides that have already buried entire villages. Search teams — dogs and handlers — from across the United States are being deployed to assist in rescue and recovery. I can’t imagine all the things they will encounter. I pray they’ll be safe and I will be anxious to hear their stories when they return, because real life is so much stranger than any fiction I can write.

Many of you who read my books already know I’m a news junkie. I watch the newscasts about the Nepal earthquake or read about the bird flu and, unlike most other people, I’m taking notes as I watch or read. I’m also a history buff, so it’s not unusual for me to include real details — present and past — in my novels. I wanted to mention a few of those real details in Silent Creed.

The tests that Senator Ellie Delanor stumbles upon actually did happen, including at least one that used schoolchildren at Clinton Elementary School in Minneapolis in 1953. From 1952 through 1969, the Army dropped thousands of pounds of zinc cadmium sulfide in nearly three hundred secret experiments conducted in such places as Fort Wayne, Indiana (1964–66); St. Louis, Missouri (1953, 1963–65); San Francisco, California (1964–68); Corpus Christi, Texas (1962); and Oceanside, California (1967). The Army has insisted that the levels used in these tests were harmless. But various studies now suspect that cadmium in humans is a carcinogen that causes kidney damage and that can contribute to liver disorders, nervous system problems, and perhaps reproductive health problems.

Project 112 and SHAD were also series of actual tests conducted by the Department of Defense from 1962 through 1973, during the height of the Cold War. The individual tests were code-named — Autumn Gold, Flower Drum, Night Train, and Shady Grove were just a few. Sailors and soldiers had no clue that they had been exposed, or if they did know, they believed the aerosols were harmless simulants. In some cases VX nerve gas, Sarin nerve gas, and a variety of bacterium including E.coli were used as part of the biological and chemical tests.

It wasn’t until 2002 that some of the facts about Project 112 were made public. Why did it take so long? The DoD claimed that too much of the information needed to be kept classified. In the meantime, veterans experiencing illnesses related to their exposure were denied VA benefits and medical help. After all, how could they be sick from something that didn’t happen?

I have a deep admiration and respect for the men and women — and the dogs — who have served and continue to serve our country. They sacrifice much and risk their lives. They deserve to have their country take care of them. Which brings me to another hard fact that is touched on in Silent Creed.

Robby’s Law (H.R.5314) made it possible for military dogs to be adopted instead of euthanized when they are retired. Can you even imagine that that was acceptable for these four-legged heroes? That after they saved so many lives, their final reward of retirement meant death? Robby’s Law also allows for the dogs’ former handlers to be first in line to adopt them.

But here’s the catch — the military still does not guarantee transport of these dogs back to the United States. Right now the military says it’s too expensive and requires resources they simply don’t have, so oftentimes the cost for transport falls to the adopter. Currently there is a push for legislation in Congress that would change this and require that the military bring these dogs home first, then retire them and, when possible, reunite them with their handlers or offer them up to the long list of others who would gladly adopt them.

It’s amazing to me that we need legislation to do what should naturally be the right and just thing for these four-legged heroes. Yes, real life is stranger than fiction.