From Baghdad with Love by Jay Kopelman (a court of thorns and roses ebook free .TXT) 📕

but who always found the time and the energy to deal with a young unruly puppy, and who ultimately arranged his “parole” from Iraq. Maybe the thanks go to Sam, the Iraqi who so “doggedly” worked miracles to get Lava his international puppy passport and dog biscuits, and who took the time to teach Lava to play soccer. Sam, who couldn’t come to America himself, yet did everything he could—even at the risk of his own life—to make sure Lava found a home in America. Yes, there are many to whom much is owed, especially every member of the Lava Dogs, First Battalion, Third Marines, who didn’t just shoot the little guy when that would have been the most convenient and expedient way to ease their daily routines. Instead they showed that even in Hell, which is what Fallujah became, it was more important to show humanity by caring for Lava when he was just a five-week-old puppy.

I need to thank all the people from Vohne Liche Kennels and Triple Canopy Security who never wavered once when they were assigned Operation Get It Done by the Helen Woodward Animal Center in San Diego. And where would Lava be without the generous offer from Iams pet foods and Kris Parlett, who paid for his trip home? I also want to thank Lava’s trainer, Graham Bloem, of West Coast K9, whose gift with animals has transformed a troubled pup into a fun-loving, playful, and wonderful companion. Yes, a debt of gratitude is owed to all these people.

But most importantly, we all owe a debt of gratitude to the young men and women who’ve made the ultimate sacrifice in the global war on terror. They have unwaveringly gone into harm’s way, and promising lives have been extinguished all too soon. Since I’ve returned from Iraq, I’ve been a reluctant observer of too many memorial services for too many young Marines—many of whom were young enough to be my own sons. I say I was a reluctant participant not because I didn’t want to honor those American heroes, but because I think it’s tragic that so many shining examples of all the qualities we admire in human beings—bravery, honor, integrity—and all that we hope our children will one day become, have been taken from us. It doesn’t get any easier with each service. In fact, it gets harder to stay detached. I sit alone at these memorials so the young Marines who may one day go into harm’s way, as I have, won’t see the old gunfighter going soft. And I do it so I can retreat inside myself for reflection, knowing how sad my family would feel if it were me who didn’t come home, wishing I could do something—anything—to ease the pain of those families who’ve lost a son, brother, father. But words won’t heal the wounds. Only time heals wounds. It is my hope that some of those families will read this book and see that all is not in vain. That even in death there is hope for new life. A new life that has been given to my best friend, Lava.

George Orwell said, “People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their part.” We all owe our thanks and gratitude to those rough men who’ve sacrificed so we can live in peace and safety here in America.

Last, but not least, I want to thank my coauthor, Melinda Roth, for all her hard work, dedication, and willingness to tolerate my unwillingness to open up. Thank you also for your unique ability to finally get me to do so. Thank you, Melinda, for your brilliant writing and for making Lava’s story come to life on the preceding pages. To my agent, Julie Castiglia, thank you for believing in this project and for fighting to make this story a reality. You are a woman of passion and grace. Finally, thank you to my editor, Ann Treistman, who fell in love with the book and with Lava, and who has so magnificently turned our raw manuscript into a compelling read.

I hope you enjoyed Lava’s tale and the journey he’s taken. We thank you for reading his story and for your support of the young men and women in the uniforms of the US military.

Lava and me, shortly after he was found in an abandoned house in Fallujah, Iraq, November 2004. The puppy was rescued from certain death and was cared for by the Lava Dogs of 1st Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment, from Kanehoe Bay, Hawaii.

Sergeant (then Corporal) Matt Hammond holds Lava in their barracks on Camp Fallujah. Sgt. Hammond was recovering from wounds he received during operations in Fallujah when he was hit by shrapnel from an insurgent’s grenade. He nearly died from loss of blood, but recovered enough to stay at Camp Fallujah during his recovery, where he and Lava kept one another company. Despite his wounds, Hammond was determined to protect Lava from anyone who might want to remove the puppy from the camp, and Lava paid him back with a puppy’s unconditional love. Today, both Hammond and Lava are doing well in southern California.

Lava, the destroyer, eyes a pair of sweatpants belonging to one of the Marines who cared for him at Camp Fallujah, the Marine base just outside the city of Fallujah. He no doubt thought they’d make a great chew toy.

A staple of Lava’s early diet was beef jerky, which the Marines cut or tore into tiny pieces for the scruffy pup.

Waiting for a helicopter with my good friend Lieutenant Colonel “Buck” Liberto in September 2004. Only because Buck extended his tour of duty in Iraq was I able to have the opportunity

to serve in Fallujah, where I met my new best friend, Lava.

A young Iraqi refugee seeks shelter and food at the Al Haidra mosque in Fallujah. The mosque quickly became a haven