MY DOGS OF WAR

by Paul Swindler

In Memoriam

WRIT 1533: Writing & Research | Professor April Chapman-Ludwig

The air is thick and hot, as the dust pours out from the Mojave Desert. My body is tired; it aches. Click, clang, clack: the sounds almost becomes melodic, rhythmically bouncing against my chest, the sound walking in cadence with my gait. I remember the rookie moves I used to make. Whether it was the thick chain around my neck or full body armor/200lbs of gear, I remember thinking, I should have worn these on my belt loop today. Twenty miles of pounding hot sand continues to roll on as the metal gets branded into my chest from the weight.

The chain—strong and seemingly unbreakable, even though we know it was made by the lowest bidder. A silver warrior logo with blood and sweatladen with dirt from a long day’s work. The pain of it cranking on our necks like a leash compelling us to fight for good against evil. This chain is a reminder that those emblazoned silver logos personify the warrior, the military lifestyle. What we feel doesn’t matter as long as we accomplish the mission. Those words…

Four short slices of data, who I am, who I belong to: name, service number, blood type, and religious preference. The data serves as a place keeper and a reminder of purpose. Years after the war has subsided the metal becomes a token of a man’s history of personal experience, and loss—a gleaming pendant of great pride, strength and a solemn memory that pain, no matter how long, is still only temporary.

It’s hard to breathe. My body hurts like a ton of bricks were dropped on me. Jingle…jingle, jangle my vision starts to come back. I roar awake, “is everybody okay?” The radio won’t stop squawking, “Bravo 4-2 this is Shark Bite, I repeat we are green and green but the vic is down, I can’t move.” The American flag bandana attached to my belt loop is bright and blinding. I lay down holding security, prepared for a counter attack. Shit…that was too close but it’s not my time yet. Jingle, jingle, jangle. My dogs of war arrive “not a tag lost that day.” I look down as our quick reaction force arrives. It provides a sense of peace and protection, a knowingness that I am not alone, that I belong. I am valuable, but I have a job to do, a very dangerous one. A job that carries a distinction that is unmatched to those who value it. Those are just two days of our dog tag stories and we have thousands more. These are my dogs of war, these are my Dog Tags.

image provided by author’s family

Paul Swindler was a veteran transfer student in April Chapman-Ludwig’s writing and research class in fall 2019. He wrote “My Dogs of War” as a short vignette to describe an artifact of significance in his life, his dog tags, and the memories he had of serving in Afghanistan as a United States Marine. Paul passed in November 2020 and now rests at the Fort Logan National cemetery in Denver. He will be remembered as a loving son, brother, and born protector.

If you met Paul Swindler and spoke with him, even for a few minutes, you probably heard a story and left the conversation with a story of your own to tell. Having Paul in my transfer student writing and research class in fall of 2019 meant that I and his classmates heard many stories and then had our own to tell. I share a few moments from my time with Paul, but these moments are a fraction of the bigger picture.

An older student veteran, Paul consistently came to class with enthusiasm and a contagious smile. DU was Paul’s dream school, and he worked hard to connect with his peers, professors, and the campus community. Paul drove from Colorado Springs through snow storms to attend his classes while also being present for his family.

He was inquisitive and driven. He always supported his classmates and peers, and he approached writing and research with a focus and dedication he brought to every situation. We talked often about connecting peers to DU resources, how best to encourage students to attend off-campus class trips, and dedication to family. At the end of class, Paul said in a survey, “It is the best educational experience I have ever had, it is intellectually stimulating, challenging, but faculty and students are helpful, and I feel like people want to see me succeed here and help me do so especially with a very demanding family life.” Paul succeeded at DU, and he helped others as they helped him.

On a class trip, I asked Paul about his sleeve of tattoos. One was a large tattoo of an angel with the words “born protector” underneath the wings. For Paul, being a protector was who he was at the very core. Even after his death, he saved seven strangers’ lives through organ donation. There are plenty of stories to share about Paul, and anyone who knew him likely has their own. I feel grateful for having known him at DU, even for a short while, and I am lucky to have had such a dedicated student.

April Chapman-Ludwig

(Paul’s WRIT 1533 Professor)