Military working dogs find hope, life after service thanks to East Texas nonprofit

He was unaffectionately known as the “Devil Dog of San Diego” at present-day Naval Base San Diego. A military working dog, Ddamien was half Belgian Malinois, half German Shepherd and all warrior at heart. With titanium canine teeth ready to cut deep, he foamed at the mouth and lunged at the chance to bite people around him – especially his U.S. Navy handlers.

Nevertheless, Ddamien was a top war dog. He was bred at Lackland Air Force Base, and the repeated ‘D’ at the beginning of his name denotes that. Like other dogs trained to detect bombs, drugs and other threats, Ddamien served the United States in the Middle East during several deployments. But when he came home, who would serve him?

That task fell to U.S. Navy dog handler Krystal Ann Tronboll after she lost a game of rock, paper, scissors. She thought she would be his next chew toy – and die playing the part.

Luckily for her, his bark was worse than his bite. The more she worked with him, she noticed something: His behavior was changing. She and Ddamien got along “fantastically,” she said. When Ddamien was retired, military leaders let Tronboll take Ddamien home. Otherwise, he’d have been euthanized.

Tronboll had become a dog handler in the military working dog program about three years prior in 2007. Since then, her life has orbited around caring for the nation’s hairiest heroes, some of whom will never again have the chance to enjoy a day at the park, live in a home with children or freely roam open pastures. While a good number of military working dogs can be adopted by the public or their handlers upon retirement, some are forever altered by military training and scarred by wartime wounds, too aggressive to live a normal life.

Under normal circumstances, that is. Abnormal circumstances are what Tronboll provides.

The Ddamien Project, headquartered at her East Texas home near Omaha in Morris County, is a nonprofit sanctuary for retired military, law enforcement and personal protection dogs. Here, out in the countryside, they can do what they’ve never really gotten to: “My goal with all of this is just to let them be a dog. That's it,” Tronboll said.

For those fidos fortunate enough to find a fur-ever home there, “all of this” includes a kennel in a heated and cooled barn, an outdoor yard to play around in, a healthy diet, proper medical care and, if the pups are willing to accept it, the love and care of Tronboll and her husband, Matt. Krystal Ann served in the Navy from 2006 to 2011, and Matt served from 1998 to 2021.

Tronboll started the project in 2017 in San Diego, and she and her husband moved to Omaha a few years ago. Theirs is one of only a few operations of its kind in the United States, taking care of dogs with significant behavioral issues – but that still have hope to enjoy somewhat of a normal life post-service.

The dogs’ nature is what complicates or precludes their life after retirement. They’re bred for war, not peace. Dogs that aren’t safe enough to be adopted by the public or their handler have two options: If they have serious behavior issues but officials believe they can be corrected, they can wind up at a rescue like Tronboll’s. But some are too aggressive, too dangerous for themselves and others. They have to be euthanized. (Members of the public who want to adopt eligible military working dogs can do so through the Mission K9 Rescue.)

Those are tough calls to make. But when a dog is “salvageable,” Tronboll can help them.

Dogs barked loudly in the barn filled with their kennels on a cold January day, and the strong aroma of dogs couldn’t be ignored. In a blue-painted office filled with collars and mementos from those who’ve passed on, Tronboll described one by one the personalities of several dogs she’s cared for.

"I know every bark. I know every personality quirk. I can walk in the kennel and look at a dog and see if they're not normal. The behavior is different. They have favorite toys and likes and dislikes,” she said. “They're just like kids to me. I just know them.”

As she walked past the kennels that day, Tronboll tossed treats to each pup, calling them by name. They were excited to see her. One would think Tronboll has no fear in her heart toward the animals. And for most of her life, she didn’t – until they put her in the hospital.

“I'm afraid of dogs. They scare me,” she said. “So, it makes this job really hard. If I don't do it, they die. I hold that as personal responsibility, so I suck it up.”

But that didn’t deter her. Progress and change in the animals is real.

"We have dogs that hate each other, and then years down the road, as they get old, they learn to like each other, and so we try to allow them that opportunity," Tronboll said. "If they're willing to change and grow, then we try to give them those opportunities to be as much of a normal dog as we can."

As a success story, Tronboll points to Eearl, a Lackland-bred Belgian Malinois she recently took in. Though he “can be a jerk at the vet,” he behaves well for her.

"We're hanging out in our waiting room, and he's all flopping over in my lap and rolled over for belly rubs, and I just love him. He's just awesome," Tronboll said. "It's really awesome to take a dog with extensive bite history and to be able to play with them on the ground and take them to the park. They're just -- they're dogs for me. They turn into normal, happy dogs. Sometimes, it just takes a couple of weeks. Sometimes, it takes a couple months. But we've never not had a dog come around.”

Some even come around by leaps and bounds – literally – by going on to participate in dog diving and obedience competitions.

Until President Bill Clinton signed Robby’s Law in 2000, adoption of military working dogs wasn’t permitted. The faith that the dogs could return to civilian lives, especially more violent ones, was not widespread among military leaders.

Ddamien and Tronboll helped change that perception. In 2010, Ddamien became one of the first dogs with an extensive history of biting people to be adopted out of the program. He lived with Tronboll until he died in 2012.

“And then it just kind of grew,” Tronboll said. She soon found herself caring for the dog she’d handled in the Middle East, Kira, and then other dogs found their way to her. In 2017, a friend formed the nonprofit organization for her. That’s when the number of dogs she had rose from five to 30.

About 27 dogs call the Ddamien Project home. And they will until they go to the great dog park in the sky. They can’t be adopted out, so Tronboll and her husband, Matt, likely will spend years caring for them.

That work is taxing on both of them, and Tronboll, 46, knows she won’t be able to do it forever. The work is ‘round-the-clock. Tronboll and her husband haven’t taken a vacation in years; someone has to be there to take care of the dogs, and not just anyone can. They’re aggressive, protective and usually not welcoming to strangers. Tronboll is hopeful that, one day, another military dog handler will step up and take over the program.

"We were filling a need I didn't realize would become as massive as it did,” she said.

Caring for military working dogs is nothing like the movies show. Tronboll criticized Hollywood depictions of post-working life for the animals; most families couldn’t handle one hence the need for organizations such as hers.

The Ddamien Project is funded by donation, and people can donate online by visiting its website, https://www.ddamienproject.org/. People can help out in other ways, too, by supporting the United States War Dogs Association, which has provided grants to the project and helped pay dogs’ medical expenses.

Running the program still takes a steep financial toll on the Tronbolls. There’s little left for their leisure.

"It's probably not the life that everybody imagines that you're going to do when you retire," she said. "But we do what we have to do to provide for the dogs and all the animals here the best we can.”

After all: If not them, who?

"It's an honor that the military is willing to work with us, and it's an honor that the handlers asked us to take their dogs,” Tronboll said. “Hopefully, we can keep doing what we do and give them the best care and the best days yet.”