Dingo

Peter “Dingo” G. (i’m leaving his full name out so his family may remain anonymous)

While this site is the first place to call bullshit when it sees it, it also will be the first to praise a good brother. This little page is a no-shit tribute to a good friend and teammate Peter “Dingo” Goodfellow. Dingo was an extremely motivated, intelligent, locked-on, operator. He was extremely dedicated to being organized and squared away in every aspect of the dangerous missions overseas. When I was team leader in Hilla Dingo was a irreplacable member of the team, an outstanding second in command, and just a good dude to have around. Fearless, intelligent, and would always be there to back his brothers up. There was no question that he had the respect and admiration of every member of that team and after speaking with other people this was no exception. Dingo was highly committed and always vigilent in maintaining the safety of the team and the safe completion of the mission. I will miss him as will all that worked with him.

The unfortunate truth is that Dingo committed suicide early in the month of April. I do not have all the facts, but what I have heard is that he was in great pain over some misfortune that happened to his fiance. I believe they found out that she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. This blow coupled with Dingo’s recent return from Iraq with some degree of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder led him to snuff out his own life. I wish he would have called me, called someone. What a waste of a good dude.

I once asked him how he got the name “Dingo” because it had nothing to do with his real name. He said that being the only Aussie working with ‘yanks’ he just kinda walked right into it. The last time I saw Dingo was in Baghdad. He was still working on the Hilla job and brought some weapons and other stuff up to Baghdad that I had left behind when I moved to my new job. I don’t know how many men I have known that have died, but one thing that always kinda bothers me is thinking about all those last conversations. My last conversation with Dingo was insignificant, more hugs and funny gossip than anything else. We traded lessons learned and stories of close calls we’d each had. Nothing more than a casual reunion of two buddies in a shit-hole. I wish he were still alive. I wish I had more to offer than just the near disgrace of his face being publicized on this fucking website. My regards go out to his family and friends.

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