A Year at War
Families Bear Brunt of Deployment Strains
By JAMES DAO and CATRIN EINHORN
Published: December 30, 2010
NYTimes

WAUTOMA, Wis. — Life changed for Shawn Eisch with a phone call last January. His youngest brother, Brian, a soldier and single father, had just received orders to deploy from Fort Drum, N.Y., to Afghanistan and was mulling who might take his two boys for a year. Shawn volunteered.

So began a season of adjustments as the boys came to live in their uncle’s home here. Joey, the 8-year-old, got into fistfights at his new school. His 12-year-old brother, Isaac, rebelled against their uncle’s rules. And Shawn’s three children quietly resented sharing a bedroom, the family computer and, most of all, their parents’ attention with their younger cousins.

The once comfortable Eisch farmhouse suddenly felt crowded.

“It was a lot more traumatic than I ever pictured it, for them,” Shawn, 44, said. “And it was for me, too.”

The work of war is very much a family affair. Nearly 6 in 10 of the troops deployed today are married, and just under half have children. Those families — more than a million of them since 2001 — have borne the brunt of the psychological and emotional strain of deployments.

Siblings and grandparents have become surrogate parents. Spouses have struggled with loneliness and the stress of single parenting. Children have felt confused and abandoned during the long separations. All have felt anxieties about the distant dangers of war.

Christina Narewski, 26, thought her husband’s second deployment might be easier for her than his first. But she awoke one night this summer feeling so anxious about his absence that she thought she was having a heart attack and called an ambulance. And she still jumps when the doorbell rings, fearing it will be officers bearing unwanted news.

“It sucks that you’re afraid to answer your door,” she said.

Social scientists are just beginning to document the rippling effects of multiple combat deployments on families -- effects that those families themselves have intimately understood for years. A study published in The New England Journal of Medicine in January found that wives of deployed soldiers sought mental health services more often than other Army wives. They were also more likely to report mental health problems, including depression, anxiety and sleep disorder, the longer the deployments lasted.

And a paper published in the journal Pediatrics in late 2009 found that children in military families were more likely to report anxiety than children in civilian families. The longer a parent had been deployed in the previous three years, the researchers found, the more likely their children were to have had difficulties in school and at home.

But those studies do not describe the myriad ways, often imperceptible to outsiders, in which families cope with deployments every day.

For Ms. Narewski, a mother of three, it has meant taking a grocery store job to distract her from thinking about her husband, a staff sergeant with the First Battalion, 87th Infantry, now in northern Afghanistan.

For Tim Sullivan, it has meant learning how to potty train, braid hair and fix dinner for his two young children while his wife, a sergeant in a support battalion to the 1-87, is deployed.

For young Joey Eisch, it meant crying himself to sleep for days after his father, a platoon sergeant with the battalion, left last spring. His older brother, Isaac, calm on the outside, was nervous on the inside.

“It’s pretty hard worrying if he’ll come back safe,” Isaac said. “I think about it like 10 or more times a day.”

Joining the Army Life

Soon after Christina and Francisco Narewski married in 2004, he applied for a job with the local sheriff’s office in Salinas, Calif. But he got tired of waiting and, after talking things over with Christina, enlisted in the Army instead.

“We both signed up for it,” Ms. Narewski said. “We knew deployments were going to come.”

That day arrived in the fall of 2007, when their third child was just 5 months old. Ms. Narewski missed Francisco dearly and sometimes cried just hearing his voice when he called from Iraq. But when he returned home in October 2008, it took them weeks to feel comfortable together again, she recalled.

“It’s almost like you’ve forgotten how to be with each other,” she said. “He’s been living in his spot for 15 months. Me and the kids have our own routine. It’s hard to get back to, ‘Oh, you’re home.’ ”

Last April, he left again, this time to Afghanistan. Ms. Narewski, who lives in Watertown, N.Y., thought she was prepared. Her mother came to live with them. She signed up for exercise classes to fill the hours. She and Francisco bought BlackBerrys with instant messaging service so they could communicate daily. And yet.

“I’ve never missed him as much as I do right now,” she said recently. “It doesn’t feel like we’re moving. It’s like you’re in a dream and you’re trying to get something and you can’t get it.”

Not all the spouses back home are women. Tim Sullivan’s days have revolved almost entirely around his two children, Austin, 4, and Leah, 2, since his wife, Sgt. Tamara Sullivan, deployed to Afghanistan in March.

He rises each weekday at 5:30 a.m. to dress and feed them before shuttling them to day care. Evenings are the reverse, usually ending with him dozing off in front of the television at their rented ranch-style house in Fayetteville, N.C.

He has moved twice and changed jobs three times in recent years to accommodate his wife’s military career. But he does not mind being home with the children, he says, because his father was not, having left the family when Mr. Sullivan was young.

“I’m not going to put my kids through that,” said Mr. Sullivan, 35, who handles child support cases for the county. “I’m going to be there.”

He worries about lost intimacy with his wife, saying that they have had a number of arguments by phone, usually about bill paying or child rearing. “She tells me: ‘Tim, you can’t just be Daddy, the hard person. You have to be Mommy, too,’” he said. “I tell her it’s not that easy.”

Yet he says that if she stays in the Army — as she has said she wants to do — he is prepared to move again or even endure another deployment. “I love her,” he said. “I’m already signed up. I made a decision to join the life that goes with that.”

Young Nomads

Isaac and Joey Eisch have also had to adjust to their father’s nomadic life. “I don’t try to get too attached to my friends because I move around a lot,” said Isaac, who has lived in five states and Germany with his father. (Joey has lived in three states.) “When I leave, it’s like, hard.”

When Sergeant Eisch got divorced in 2004, he took Isaac to an Army post in Germany while Joey stayed with his mother in Wisconsin. Soon after returning to the States in 2007, the sergeant became worried that his ex-wife was neglecting Joey. He petitioned family court for full custody of both boys and won.

In 2009, he transferred to Fort Drum and took the boys with him. Within months, he received orders for Afghanistan.

After nearly 17 years in the Army with no combat deployments, Sergeant Eisch was determined to go to war. The boys, he felt, were old enough to handle his leaving. Little did he know how hard it would be.

When Shawn put the boys in his truck at Fort Drum to take them to Wautoma, a two-stoplight town in central Wisconsin, Isaac clawed at the rear window “like a caged animal,” Sergeant Eisch said. He still tears up at the recollection.

“I question myself every day if I’m doing the right thing for my kids,” he said. “I’m trying to do my duty to my country and deploy, and do what Uncle Sam asks me to do. But what’s everybody asking my boys to do?”

Within a few weeks of arriving at his uncle’s home, Joey beat up a boy so badly that the school summoned the police. It was not the last time Shawn and his wife, Lisa, would be summoned to the principal’s office.

The boys were in pain, Shawn realized. “There was a lot more emotion,” he said, “than Lisa and I ever expected.”

Shawn, a state water conservation officer, decided he needed to set strict rules for homework and good behavior. Violations led to chores, typically stacking wood. But there were carrots, too: for Joey, promises of going to Build-a-Bear if he obeyed his teachers; for Isaac, going hunting with his uncle was the prize. Gradually, the calls from the principal declined, though they have not ended.

In September, Sergeant Eisch returned for midtour leave and the homecoming was as joyful as his departure had been wrenching. Father and sons spent the first nights in hotels, visited an amusement park, went fishing and traveled to New York City, where they saw Times Square and the Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum.

But the two weeks were over in what seemed like hours. In his final days, Sergeant Eisch had prepped the boys for his departure, but that did not make it any easier.

“Why can’t we just, like, end the war?” Isaac asked at one point.

As they waited at the airport, father and sons clung to each other. “I’m going to have to drink like a gallon of water to replenish these tears,” the sergeant said. “Be safe,” Isaac implored him over and over.

Sergeant Eisch said he would, and then was gone.

Despite his worries, Isaac tried to reassure himself. “He’s halfway through, and he’s going to make it,” he said. “With all that training he’s probably not going to get shot. He knows if there’s a red dot on his chest, run. Not toward the enemy. Run, and shoot.”

But his father did not run.

‘Dad’ Comes Home

Just weeks after returning to Afghanistan, Sergeant Eisch, the senior noncommissioned officer for a reconnaissance and sniper platoon, was involved with Afghan police officers in a major offensive into a Taliban stronghold south of Kunduz city.

While directing fire from his armored truck, Sergeant Eisch saw a rocket-propelled grenade explode among a group of police officers standing in a field. The Afghans scattered, leaving behind a man writhing in pain. Sergeant Eisch ordered his medic to move their truck alongside the officer to shield him from gunfire. Then Sergeant Eisch got out.

“I just reacted,” he recalled. “I seen a guy hurt and nobody was helping him, so I went out there.”

The police officer was bleeding from several gaping wounds and seemed to have lost an eye. Sergeant Eisch started applying tourniquets when he heard the snap of bullets and felt “a chainsaw ripping through my legs.” He had been hit by machine gun fire, twice in the left leg, once in the right.

He crawled back into his truck and helped tighten tourniquets on his own legs. He was evacuated by helicopter and taken to a military hospital where, in a morphine daze, he called Shawn.

“Are you sitting down?” Brian asked woozily. “I’ve been shot.”

Shawn hung up and went into a quiet panic. He could not tell how badly Brian had been wounded. Would he lose his leg? He called the school and asked them to shield the boys from the news until he could get there.

Outside school, Shawn told Isaac, Joey and his 12-year-old daughter, Anna, about Brian’s injury. Only Isaac stayed relatively calm.

But later, Shawn found Isaac in his bedroom weeping quietly while looking at a photograph showing his father outside his tent, holding a rifle. Shawn helped him turn the photograph into a PowerPoint presentation titled, “I Love You Dad!”

For Shawn, a gentle and reserved man, his brother’s injury brought six months of family turmoil to a new level. Sensing his distress, Lisa urged him to go hunting, a favorite pastime. So he grabbed his bow and went to a wooded ridge on his 40 acres of property.

To his amazement, an eight-point buck wandered by. Shawn hit the deer, the largest he had ever killed with a bow. It seemed a good omen.

A few days later, Shawn flew with the boys, his father and Brian’s twin sister, Brenda, to Washington to visit the sergeant at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. At the entrance, they saw men in wheelchairs with no arms and no legs. Others were burned or missing eyes. Shawn feared what the boys would see inside Brian’s room.

But Brian, giddy from painkillers, was his cheerful self. His right leg seemed almost normal. His left leg, swollen and stapled together, looked terrible. But it was a real leg, and it was still attached to him. The boys felt relieved.

Within days, Brian was wheeling himself around the hospital and cracking jokes with nurses, a green-and-yellow Green Bay Packers cap on his head. While Joey lost himself in coloring books and television, Isaac attended to his father’s every need.

“I feel a little more grown up,” Isaac said. “I feel a lot more attached to him than I was when he left.”

One doctor told Brian that he would never be able to carry a rucksack or run again because of nerve damage in his left leg. Someone even asked him if he wanted the leg amputated, since he would certainly be able to run with a prosthetic. Brian refused, and vowed to prove the doctor wrong. By December, he was walking with a cane and driving again.

For Shawn, too, the future had become murkier. It might be many weeks before Brian could reclaim his sons. But he also knew how glad the boys were to have their father back in one piece.

“Brian came home,” Shawn said one evening after visiting his brother in the hospital. “He didn’t come home like we hoped he would come home, but he came home.”

“Every single day I think about all those families and all those kids that are not going to have a dad come home from Afghanistan,” he said. “That hurts more than watching my brother try to take a step because I know my brother will take a step and I know he’s going to walk down the dock and get in his bass boat someday.”

It was late, and he had to get the boys up the next morning to visit their father at the hospital again. The holidays were fast approaching and the snow would soon be arriving in Wisconsin. Shawn wondered whether he could get Isaac out hunting before the season ended.

Yeah, he thought. He probably could.

ARNORTH Change of Command
Photo by Sgt. Joshua R. Ford
January 07, 2009
Lt. Gen. Thomas R. Turner (center), commanding general, U.S. Army North (ARNORTH) presides over the ARNORTH Headquarters and Headquarters Company change of command ceremony Jan. 6, 2009, at Fort Sam Houston.

(Just a random picture I found online to show the formal passing of the flag from commanders)


This morning I attended a change of command ceremony for a friend. These are formal gatherings typically held outside. Guests sit under a tent while the company stands before its new and about-to-be former commander. The battalion commander speaks about both soldiers and then each commander addresses his soldiers in formation as well as the guests. Traditionally, the wife of the outgoing commander gets red roses as a farewell and the wife of the incoming commander gets yellow roses as a welcome.

After the commanders speak, all of the soldiers sing a couple of songs. I only recognized the Army Anthem. My son even asked me if they could sing that one again, he liked it so much. I think I remember liking it as a kid too (The Caissons Go Rolling Along).

The 1 year old daughter of my friend (whose husband the ceremony was for) even saluted the formation of soldiers on the field when the soldiers saluted their new commander.

Max was in Afghanistan when he took command of his company so I wasn't there (obviously) for his. But, it's kind of emotional to watch a ceremony like this because the outgoing commander has been through so much with his soldiers. The exiting commander today choked up while giving his speech. There's a lot about this job that we, on the home front, won't ever fully understand. When he gave his call sign and said "out" at the end, even I got teary eyed. Then, my friend, after his speech said his call sign followed by "in position, ready to fire." They switched standing positions and then then the new commander went in front of his soldiers and saluted the first sergeant.

Getting used to change is a must in the military world. I've noticed througout my nearly 5 years as an Army wife that some people take change better than others (this includes the Army wives too!).

Run to Remember is a running group that meets every Saturday in DuPont, WA. They meet in a school parking lot at 10:00 AM. The runners wear blue shirts with all of the names of the fallen soldiers printed on it. As the runners form a circle, someone reads all of the names of the fallen soldiers from the battalions in the brigade. After the last name is read from the list, the founder of the group, a mother of 3 whose husband was killed in Afghanistan in August of '09, thanks those there for coming out to run. Everyone starts off together and finishes at his/her own pace. Some do the marked 3 mile loop, others 6 and those training for longer distances do longer runs.

Both soldiers and wives come out to run. Younger children ride in joggers and older children run the shortest loop.

I went this morning. It was about 43 degrees outside but that didn't stop around twenty runners from coming out to Run to Remember.

Next Sunday, many from Run to Remember will participate in the Seattle Marathon. Among them will be volunteers carrying a flag for each of the fallen soldiers.

On Veterans Day, recalling dreams sacrificed

By Patrick Logan
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Washington Post

The third conditional in English grammar is used to imagine a hypothetical past. It's a structure I've thought about a lot recently while reading the letters my father sent my mother during World War II.

Italian King Victor Emmanuel III handed over power to Mussolini on Oct. 28, 1922, one week after my father was born. Two decades later he and the men of his generation were on transport ships bound for destinations from which many would not return. Had they been born just a few years later, their experience of the war probably would have been limited to newsreels.

In 1943, three years after completing a barbering course, my father found himself in boot camp. He wrote to my mother, boasting of his good fortune: "I don't know whether they recognized me as lazy or what, but I certainly got a snap job. No gun, no equipment, nothing. I cut hair and have to be a nice little boy among the books and ping pong tables."

His division, the 88th Blue Devils, arrived in Naples in February 1944 and took up positions along the Gustav Line. The straight razor, comb and scissors he carried symbolized the power of the third conditional: If he had not taken the barbering course, he might have been carrying an M1 Garand rifle on the front lines.

After the fall of Rome that June, the men of the 88th were sent to the shores of Lake Albano for rest. It was there that my father's own awareness of a hypothetical past first appears in his letters: "The night we were bombed was about 3 in the morning. I woke up and the ground was trembling and shaking. Civilians were running down the path by our bivouac area to caves in a gully. Babies and women were crying. The night of the first raid, one of the boys held the wrong card. Where one of the bombs landed and where he slept were a heck of a distance. A piece of shrapnel had a million directions to go, but it only took one."

With thoughts of that piece of shrapnel and where it might have landed, my father made his way north until the Allied offensive ran out of steam in the foothills of the Apennines, north of Florence.

One Sunday morning in a village called Belvedere, two soldiers awaited orders: Johnny Garris pulled guard duty, leaving my father free to attend Mass. The service was interrupted by German artillery, forcing the congregation into the basement. After Mass, my father learned that Johnny had been killed in the shelling. He knew that their situations might easily have been reversed. If. . .

At stake was the postwar life that every GI was trying to imagine. In one letter he wrote: "Someday I expect to come home and fulfill a lot of plans I've made and live the way I want to."

Six months after the German surrender, my father finally made his way back to his New Hampshire village. He hung up his uniform and picked up his scissors. My mother - his wife of two years - took off the welder's mask she'd worn at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard. They enjoyed 52 postwar years together. Their five children have enjoyed a total of 282 years. This is not just math; it's life. It was the vague dream my father was imagining while digging foxholes in the Apennines. It was an outcome that might have been denied by a random piece of shrapnel or an order to stand guard duty.

I thought of that if-clause last month when reading the announcement that four soldiers had been killed while conducting combat operations in Helmand province, Afghanistan:

Cpl. Justin J. Cain, 22, of Manitowoc, Wis.

Lance Cpl. Phillip D. Vinnedge, 19, of Saint Charles, Mo.

Lance Cpl. Joseph E. Rodewald, 21, of Albany, Ore.

Pfc. Victor A. Dew, 20, of Granite Bay, Calif.

We must feel this sacrifice. We must remember their service. Their dreams have ended. And each death conceals a clause that loved ones will repeat for years: "If only he hadn't . . . " The unfinished thoughts will hang in the air, silenced by the countless dreams of what might have been.

Patrick Logan, a freelance writer in New Hampshire, is writing a book about his relationship with his father.

Today I learned that according to the military police, the way you position your car while pumping gas does matter...a lot.

I pulled my car to the gas pump; the tank is on the passenger's side. I've pumped gas since I learned how to drive at age 16. I know how to pump gas.

As such, I thought it was strange when I saw 2 military policemen pull up next to me(and not to get gas).

I knew I hadn't broken any laws and my toddler was safely strapped in his car seat. Something wasn't right though; these police officers looked so serious as they approached me. I glanced around only to notice that most of the other people getting gas were looking my way. Was the gas nozzle in my car? Perhaps I was pumping gas all over the ground...nope, the nozzle was inserted and no gas was leaking.

Well, it turns out, my car was "facing the wrong direction." The military police told me that I need to "follow the arrows." I looked at the ground and sure enough, there were arrows painted on it (however, the paint was faded).

And once it was pointed out to me, I saw that indeed, I was the only car faced "the wrong way." I told them I wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Gas etiquette; what a concept!

This morning I drove through the wrong entrance of the base gates and it was quite the scene. There were cones placed all around the entrance gates which made trying to see the actual driving lane a little confusing (at least for me). In front of me was a UPS truck. Naturally, I followed behind it, happy to have someone in front to guide me in.

Well, the UPS truck went to the commercial vehicle lane...and so did I...following right behind him.

In no time at all, the guards left their duty posts, madly waving me into the proper lane (red flags and all). The problem was, I had confused the cars behind me and now there was a whole line of cars in the commercial vehicle lane.

With my window down watching the guards while simultaenously telling my toddler how embarrassed I was, I apologized to the guards (who were frantically running around trying to get the cars straightened out). Once I showed my ID card to the guard who waved me through with a scolding glance, I sped away...only to remember how strictly the speed limit is enforced on military posts. I slowed down to the 15 mph speed limit and wished at that moment I had been able to turn my car into a plane and fly away from the ten cars I slowed down by not being able to figure out how to get my car through the cones!

In the grand scheme of things, it's a funny story. At least it's funnier now than it was at 8:00 this morning!

Only in military towns have I seen something like this: 8 barber shops in a 1 mile stretch (pictured above are 2 of them). How do they all stay in business? I've been wondering this for years now...

I read this article when it first published and recently read it again. Thought it was worth sharing:

Battalion hit by 'perfect storm' in Afghan war
Twenty-two men out of 800 were killed during yearlong tour; 70 injured
By CHRISTOPHER TORCHIA
The Associated Press
updated 5/30/2010 7:07:52 PM ET

FORWARD OPERATING BASE FRONTENAC, Afghanistan — It was Aug. 10, 2009 in the Arghandab River Valley, a hot and dusty day full of unknowns.

An American battalion was swapping in with a Canadian garrison. As the Stryker troop carrier rumbled toward the riverside orchards, a Canadian soldier warned 1st Lt. Vic Cortese, 24, of East Quogue, New York: "We don't go in there."

The American troops clambered out of the Stryker's cramped confines into the raw sunlight. The soldiers spread out, started walking.

Less than 20 minutes later, snap, snap, snap in the air. A Taliban ambush. Cortese's first firefight, and he went numb. "For a split second, I was like: 'Oh man!'" he recalled. Then training took command. He pushed against the earth, lifted his M-4 rifle and pulled the trigger.

Twenty-two men in the U.S. Army's 1st Battalion, 17th Infantry Regiment of 800 died in a yearlong Afghan tour ending this summer. Most were killed last year in the Arghandab, a gateway to the southern city of Kandahar. About 70 were injured, all but two in bomb blasts.

The death toll was one of the highest in the Afghan war, and the tough fight in the Arghandab drew the attention of America's leaders. President Obama was photographed saluting the coffin of one of the soldiers on arrival in the United States. U.S. Defense Secretary Robert Gates told soldiers at their base in March that their efforts had helped push back the Taliban.

However, the battalion failed to dislodge insurgent cells entirely. A similar outcome is emerging in the southern town of Marjah after a bigger operation led by U.S. Marines in February. An even larger campaign is unfolding in Kandahar, the Taliban's spiritual capital.

The battalion's story is an extreme example of the challenges American soldiers face in Afghanistan.

The battalion is part of the 5th Stryker Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, which originally trained for urban combat in Iraq. But the mission changed in the final months of training, and the brigade's 130 Arabic students took a crash course in Pashto, the language of Afghanistan's largest ethnic community.

The battalion's Stryker vehicles, prized for their speed and mobility, were making their debut in the Afghan war. But they could not operate in rough terrain where soldiers had to get around on foot.

The timing was bad; August is the height of Afghanistan's fighting season.

Perhaps most treacherous of all, the battalion had very little intelligence. The soldiers didn't know it, but they faced an entrenched enemy willing to stand and fight for a sliver of territory vital to the Taliban's goal of seizing Kandahar. They needed more manpower.

Before dawn on Aug. 7, the battalion rolled out of Kandahar to Forward Operating Base Frontenac, just northwest of the Arghandab. The soldiers in the hatches got sunburns. The thermometer read 130 degrees Fahrenheit.

A "perfect storm" awaited, said Lt. Col. Jonathan Neumann, the battalion commander, from the tiny town of Baker in Montana.

"You can't get from one side of the river to the other easily. You can't do anything on vehicles," Neumann said. "We didn't know it was going to be saturated with enemy. Nobody was tracking that it was a Taliban sanctuary."

Two deaths in five minutes
Spc. Troy O. Tom was the first. A 21-year-old Navajo from Shiprock, New Mexico, he smiled serenely through tough camp training and told friends he turned down scholarships to serve his country. On Aug. 18, an explosive on a footbridge killed him.

Within five minutes, Pfc. Jonathan C. Yanney, 20, of Litchfield, Minn., died the same way. Soldiers say he stopped, stooped to adjust his heavy backpack, and took his last step.

Fear of more attacks delayed the search for the bodies. The next day, a bomb struck a convoy. The shock wave thumped 1st Lt. Kyle Hovatter of Tallahassee, Fla. in the face — "like a ton of bricks," he said. Soldiers spotted a dozen muzzle flashes in the undergrowth. Sixteen Strykers unloaded 50-caliber machine gunfire and other ordnance. Helicopters flew low, unleashing at least 100 rockets.

The barrage subsided, and the Americans found Tom and Yanney.

A pattern was emerging.

The Taliban had no chance in a firefight, but disrupted American movement with mines and improvised explosive devices, or IEDs, usually fuel-soaked fertilizer packed in cooking oil jugs and wired to a power source that ignites the mix.

The IEDs got bigger as insurgents learned to pierce the Stryker hulls. At first, the Americans walked into bombs around trails and at gaps in walls. They adapted, varying movements and spotting ribbons in trees and other Taliban markers for IEDs.

Hovatter, 27, replaced a wounded platoon leader, and tried not to think of his wife on patrol so he could stay alert. He played out worst-case scenarios: What if the guy in front steps on a mine? What will I do?

"You're the American army, you're the U.S. infantry," Hovatter said. "You don't expect to come across something that's going to make you step back and say: 'How can I change?'"

In photographs, Capt. John L. Hallett III of Concord, California, resembles a diffident schoolboy, his ears poking out awkwardly.

Once he visited Afghan police and balked at his hosts' yogurt drink in a communal bowl. They gave him a glass. Too polite to decline, he held it for the entire meeting and dumped its contents in the bowl when nobody was looking.

On Aug. 25, an IED in a culvert flipped a Stryker, killing 30-year-old Hallett and three others. Six days later, more deaths. A medic tried to resuscitate a soldier who lost limbs, then announced it was over.

1st Sgt. Charles Burrow ordered the medic to continue until the helicopter arrived for the "angel flight" that would carry the dead man away. He didn't want to give up.

After the evacuation, a void settled inside Burrow. It was as though there was nothing left to do. He turned to the Protestant chaplain, Capt. Gary Lewis, who arrived to counsel the soldiers.

"Chaplain, be quick. I'm sending these guys right back out. I don't want them dwelling on it right now," Lewis remembers Burrow saying.

Again and again, the battalion tried to close out grief. Focus on the task. Look ahead, not back. Each time a soldier died, the base flag flew at half-staff, but only for a few hours. Death became normal, a jarring routine. It meant loss; it meant everyone else was still alive.

"We aren't civilians. It's not like some dude that you work with. We live together, eat together. You get pretty close and emotionally attached," said Burrow, 36, of Harker Heights, Texas. Of the attacks, he said: "It shakes your confidence. All of these came like, 'bang, bang, bang.'... Anytime there's an event like that, you re-examine: 'Why am I here?'"

In one firefight, soldiers pumped bullets into an insurgent who sprinted into the open to drag away a wounded comrade. Watching him die gave therapeutic release.

Getting street smart
One September night, two dozen suspected insurgents appeared with bags around an American post, then pushed into the orchards before dawn. Coalition rules of engagement barred the Americans from opening fire unless there was obvious hostile intent.

The paltry role of Afghan forces was also frustrating. Chaplain Lewis, a 37-year-old father of four from San Diego, California, once boarded a Stryker with two Americans who survived an IED strike. In back were two Afghan soldiers, one of whom had shot himself in the foot. A commander told Lewis: "Keep an eye on those two. Make sure their weapons remain on safe."

It was hard to separate civilians from insurgents. On village patrols, the Americans probably shook hands with unarmed fighters. The battalion struggled for traction in civil outreach. One platoon delivered a generator on a pallet outside a medical clinic; gunmen shot holes in it overnight.

Gradually, soldiers learned the territory, and Taliban tactics. They pushed into target areas before pre-dawn prayers at the mosque, and once roared up a dry riverbed in Strykers to win surprise. They knew an ambush was looming in a village where the children had vanished.

With time, villagers returned, and talked. By November, soldiers had found caches of weapons and bomb-making material.

One patrol felt a turning point when an old man motioned afar with his cane.

"Taliban," the man said.

There are versions of what Staff Sgt. Michael Brown, 27, said when a mine severed his right foot on Oct. 15. It's part of Alpha Company lore. It was either "Man, this is really going to affect my jump shot" or "This is going to affect my golf swing" or "That was my accelerator foot."

Always upbeat, Brown stayed in character. A medic tied a tourniquet. "Doc, is that tight enough?" inquired Brown of Staten Island, New York. The pain floated away with the morphine.

Life could end anytime. In the early days, soldiers exhaled in relief every time a boot sank harmlessly into the earth.

"Every step is, 'When? When? When? When is it going to happen? When is it going to happen? When is it going to happen?" said Alpha's 1st Sgt. Gene Hicks, 39, of Tacoma, Wash., a former Marine who will retire and become a deputy sheriff in Boise, Idaho.

And then, he said, it would be: "Boom! It just happened."

U.S. commanders were fighting an estimated 200 or more Taliban who always removed their dead.

Pomegranates perched on trees like Christmas ornaments, cool and sweet. But the foliage trapped a sauna-like heat. It was hard to see. Troops walked in a constant crouch. They hopped mud walls or broke holes in them. On the night Brown was hurt, the entire Alpha Company — about 150 men — crawled single-file through a hole the size of a bedroom window.

Rifles aloft, soldiers waded across irrigation trenches. The terrain reminded some of scenes from Vietnam War movies. It was a maze.

"Everything but the Minotaur," said 26-year-old Capt. Michael Kovalsky of Fords, New Jersey. He took command of Alpha Company after Hallett's death.

One platoon adopted a dog, named Staff. Sgt. Bear. One night, Bear barked at the darkness. A daytime search unearthed an IED.

When Christmas came, the dining hall displayed "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" by Dr. Seuss. On the cover, someone crossed out "Grinch" and wrote "Taliban."

The men grew close. They could identify others in the dark by their gaits. When Brown was blown up, his comrades instantly recognized his voice from the screams.

Oct. 27: The boom was muffled, possibly because the IED hit square underneath the Stryker.

But the radio call was clear and final. Eight KIA, killed in action. Seven Charlie Company soldiers and an Afghan interpreter. The blast had driven the armor plate under the Stryker through the roof, peeling it off like a can opener.

A firefight erupted. Afterward, troops found a man's corpse and drag marks, probably an attempt by insurgents to remove the body. A young boy sobbed nearby. He told an interpreter that the man was his uncle and brought him along as a human shield.

"He thought you wouldn't shoot us," the boy said.

At the smoking Stryker, soldiers collected body parts. They ran out of body bags. On base, they collected things — letters, clothes, photos, computers — from the rooms of the dead for delivery to their families.

Grousing is common in any army, but a deeper resentment brewed in the 1-17. In November, brigade chief Col. Harry Tunnell replaced Capt. Joel Kassulke of Charlie Company, which had suffered the most deaths — 12 men — of the four companies.

The soldiers fumed. They thought the captain was made a scapegoat.

In December, the battalion took a new mission to secure area highways. Fighting had ebbed, and a unit from the 82nd Airborne Division took over most of the Arghandab. Some 1-17 soldiers were emotional — they thought they were winning, and felt defeat at leaving.

A month later, an Army Times newspaper article included assertions by Charlie Company junior leaders that they had not trained adequately for the Afghan mission, and that the battalion had not focused enough on civilian concerns.

Neumann said civil development was hardly the first option in a heavy combat zone, but acknowledged he could have done more to convey command thinking down the chain. As for Kassulke's transfer, he said, the brigade command believed the man and the company were close to a "breaking point" and needed change.

"That was a bitter pill for that company to swallow," Neumann said. The Army Times article, he said, "tore at the fiber of this unit and I was proud that we shook that off too."

Phobia about orchards
With the deployment nearly over, Sgt. Richard Thibeault of Bravo Company remembered Aug. 10, 2009, when he and Cortese first tasted combat. A bullet struck Thibeault's ceramic chest plate but did not penetrate. He went somewhere else: a dream, a bubble, a cocoon.

"It knocked me back a couple of steps and I hit the ground," he said. "It was like hearing everything through a can, being way off. It was like being five miles away and hearing gunfire. Everything was real faint, but I was right there in the middle of it."

Thibeault crawled, and a soldier grabbed him by the collar.

"I got up there behind the wall ... and said, 'Hey man, I got shot,'" Thibeault recalled. "He looked and he said, 'No, you didn't.' I was like, 'Yeah, I was.' He was, 'No, you didn't. Start firing.'"

The soldier shoved his hand under Thibeault's vest and yanked it out. No blood.

Thibeault, 22, of Cornelia, Georgia, had bowel movement trouble for a month and has a phobia about orchards. On leave, he got a tattoo of a crosshairs with a wisp of smoke where the bullet would have entered.

At Frontenac today, photographs of the dead line the corridor in the headquarters. A concrete memorial bears their names.

Cortese struggles to wrap his mind around things. In the beginning, he wanted to know if he would hold up in a firefight. Now he knows, and he was promoted. But will home be the same? Will he miss Afghanistan?

"I feel like when we're back, I'm going to want to be over here and I don't know why," Cortese said. "It will be hard to watch the news and not be here."

One needs a military ID in order to get on a military base. If you don't have one, you will have to drive to the visitor's center, show them your license and proof of insurance and they'll issue you a pass. It's a pain...especially if you've temporarily lost your military ID card.

This morning, before I drove out of my garage, I took my military ID card out of my wallet and put it on top of my bag which was resting on the passenger's seat. Ten minutes later, just as I was approaching the entrance gate, I noticed my ID card was no longer on top of my bag.

What could have happened to it? I never turned quickly or went up a steep hill. It was a flat, boring and quick drive a mere 2 exits up the freeway.

I felt a sense of panic as it was too late to turn away from the gate. I was going to have to go through and explain to the guard that somehow, I lost my ID on the drive there.

I rolled down my window as the guard put up his hand gesturing me to stop (I wonder what would have happened if I had sped through the gate, right by him...kidding, I would never have done that). "Sir, I took my military out and put it down in my car and now I can't find it." I explained, embarrassed.

He looked at the driver's license which I was hoping he'd think was good enough and just let me through. "You'll need to pull over and find it if you really have your card in the car.

Did I really look like I was lying? I even had the post's DCAL on my car windshield! I really did not want to take the extra time to go to the visitor's center when I had my own ID.

Knowing the rules were the rules (and that there was a long line of cars piling up behind me), I pulled over. Within a couple of minutes of frantically rummaging around my car's front seats, the ID appeared...just like that...in the tray below the emergency brake. I swear it wasn't there before.

I waved to the guard that I found it. He sent someone over to inspect its authenticity and alas, I was on my way.

I decided from now on, I will just keep the card in my wallet until I actually get to the gate.

Yesterday, Oliver and I went to the Change of Command ceremony on post. The event signified the change of the battalion's Colonels. The battalion was assembled on Watkins Field on Joint Base Lewis McChord (why they changed the post's name from Ft. Lewis to that, I'll never know) and the soldiers were in formation by company.

Oliver and I sat in the bleachers to watch the event. Of course, from that far away, I couldn't tell which soldier was Max, let alone which company was his.

Oliver's favorite part of the ceremony was the band...he particularly liked the buglers and the drummers. He seemed to get a kick out of the marching too. Every time the band rested and someone important spoke, Oliver would look at me, point to the band and ask me to make them play "again!"

When Max marched his company by where we were sitting, Oliver waved and called out to dad. I don't think he understood why Max didn't look at him and wave back. I tried to explain it, but who knows...

Personally, I was really thankful for the Army's band. Not only was its contribution spirited and nice, it kept my toddler entertained for the duration of the ceremony!

I finally feel settled from the move...well, at least the Internet is up and running. Without it, I felt like I was in a time warp!

I've joined the Family Readiness Group (FRG). I am the co-leader of the FRG for the company Max commands: Charlie Company, 1-17 Infantry. The FRG is a command sponsored organization of spouses who provide support and activities to increase the resiliency for soldiers and their families, particularly during deployments.

It's been interesting reintegrating into the Army wife culture after living away from it for over a year. Not that I wasn't an Army wife in San Francisco; there just wasn't that community around me (but,there was a lot of family and many good friends there!).

I know the women I've joined here at Ft. Lewis (now called Joint Base Lewis-McChord, but I can't bring myself to call it that) went through a very challenging year together. They, as FRG leaders, helped all of the Gold Star Families (families who have lost family members in war) who were coping with their losses, and at the same time, worried about and missed their own spouses.

I met a lady whose husband was a company commander just like Max. He was killed last August, shortly after they deployed. She gave birth to their baby girl, whom he never got to meet. I don't think one day has passed that I haven't thought about her. I don't know her well, but she is one of those people who seems to exude positive energy. I admire her strength...the strength she's had to get through the past year and the strength she'll have to have for the future of raising her three children. And to imagine what it must feel like to be around all her friends whose husbands have now returned...

One really amazing thing about the community...it's like a big family. I look forward to getting to know everyone while we are here.

I'm in the middle of my 5th move in 4 years (actually, one of those moves was to a different place in the same city), so blogging has been a bit sporadic. Somehow, with a toddler, it isn't as easy as it used to seem. I know I'm not the only military wife out there thinking this...

Obama Tells Troops, ‘Our Task in Iraq Is Not Yet Over’
By HELENE COOPER and ELISABETH BUMILLER
Published: August 31, 2010 NYTimes

WASHINGTON — The United States may be bringing troops home from the war in Iraq, but there is a “tough slog” ahead in the war in Afghanistan, President Obama told troops in Fort Bliss, Texas on Tuesday.

Speaking just hours before he is to deliver an Oval Office address commemorating what is supposed to be the end of combat in Iraq, where some 50,000 troops will remain until next year in a mainly advisory and training role, Mr. Obama nonetheless warned that the American mission is not yet accomplished. Mr. Obama told the troops that his Oval Office address “is not going to be a victory lap; it’s not going to be self-congratulatory. There’s still a lot of work.”

Mr. Obama’s address tonight is meant to convey that he has kept one of the central promises of his campaign: withdrawing American combat troops from Iraq. But he is tiptoeing a fine line between taking credit for the withdrawal and echoing the “mission accomplished” tone that President Bush struck so famously seven years ago, and that came back to haunt Mr. Bush in the ensuing years as Iraq fell into further chaos.

Mr. Obama called Mr. Bush Tuesday morning from Air Force One as he was enroute to Fort Bliss, White House officials said. The two spoke “just for a few moments,” Benjamin Rhodes, deputy national security adviser for strategic communications, told reporters aboard the plane, declining to give any additional detail about the conversation.

In rolling out the promises-kept theme on the Iraq withdrawal, Mr. Obama is trying to reconcile his record of opposition to the war, and to the troop surge ordered by President Bush which many military officials credit for stemming violence in Iraq, with his role as a war-time commander seeking to credit his troops with a mission accomplished.

While there were “big debates about war and peace” across the country, the president said, “the one thing we don’t argue about is that we have the finest fighting force in the history of the world.” He got shouts of approval from the assembled Fort Bliss troops for that line. (The event was covered by a small pool of print and television reporters.)

“The main message I have tonight and the main message I have to you is congratulations on a job well done,” Mr. Obama said. “The most pride I take in my job is being your commander in chief.”

On Afghanistan, Mr. Obama said that he is convinced that under the command of General David Petraeus, the latest American military commander in Afghanistan, “we have the troops who are there in a position to start taking the fight to the terrorists.” But he warned that there would be heavy casualties.Earlier in the day, Defense Secretary Robert M. Gates warned against “premature victory parades or self-congratulations” as American combat operations in Iraq drew officially to a close, and at the same time said that the success of United States forces in Afghanistan was only “possible,” not inevitable

In remarks to the American Legion in Milwaukee, Mr. Gates sounded a restrained, sober note about the state of America’s two wars.

In Iraq, he said, the most recent elections have yet to result in a coalition government, Al Qaeda in Mesopotamia is beaten but not gone, and sectarian tensions remain. He said the 50,000 United States troops still in Iraq would continue to work with Iraqi security forces, who only last week faced a flurry of coordinated insurgent attacks across the country that killed at least 51 people.

“I am not saying that all is, or necessarily will be, well in Iraq,” Mr. Gates, who is one of Mr. Obama’s most influential advisers, told the legion.

In Afghanistan, he said, the Taliban are “a cruel and ruthless adversary, and are not going quietly.” Their leadership, he said, has ordered a campaign of intimidation against Afghan civilians and is singling out women for brutal attacks.

“I know there is a good deal of concern and impatience about the pace of progress since the new strategy was announced last December,” Mr. Gates said, referring to Mr. Obama’s decision to send to Afghanistan 30,000 additional United States troops, who have finished arriving only this month. Total American forces in Afghanistan now number nearly 100,000.

But in an attempt to draw a parallel between the current fragile stability of Iraq and what might be possible in Afghanistan, Mr. Gates said that the intensifying combat and rising casualties in Afghanistan were in many ways reminiscent of the early months of the surge of United States forces ordered in Iraq by President George W. Bush in 2007, when American troops were taking the highest losses of the war.

“Three and a half years ago very few believed the surge could take us to where we are today in Iraq, and there were plenty of reasons for doubts,” said Mr. Gates, who helped make the surge decision as Mr. Bush’s defense secretary at the time. But “back then, this country’s civilian and military leadership chose the path we believed had the best chance of achieving our national security objectives, as we are doing in Afghanistan today.”

He added: “Success there is not inevitable. But with the right strategy and the willingness to see it through, it is possible. And it is certainly worth the fight.”

Despite his cautious tone on Iraq, Mr. Gates cited what he called dramatic security gains. He said that violence levels this year remained at their lowest level since the beginning of the war in 2003, that American forces have not had to conduct an airstrike in six months and that Al Qaeda in Mesopotamia had been largely cut off “from its masters abroad.”

In Washington, a senior intelligence official told reporters that Al Qaeda in Mesopotamia is estimated to have just 10 percent of the strength it had during the peak of its manpower in 2006 and 2007. The official declined to provide the actual figures that the estimate was drawn from, and he said he expected the group would have a core of fighters inside Iraq for “a long time to come.”

The senior official, who declined to be identified because he was discussing classified intelligence assessments, noted the sharp reduction of violence in the country and said that attacks in Iraq had been lowered to a “tolerable” level.

He said that Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps continues to provide “equipment, training and a refuge” for various militant groups in the country, and that Iran’s support for these groups was almost certain to continue as the United States reduces its military presence in the country.Mr. Gates said the gains had been purchased “at a terrible cost”: 4,427 American service members killed, 34,268 Americans wounded or injured and untold losses and trauma endured by the Iraqis themselves.

Mr. Gates’s voice seemed to choke as he then said: “The courage of these men and women, their determination, their sacrifice — and that of their families — along with the service and sacrifice of so many others in uniform, have made this day, this transition, possible. And we must never forget.”

In Afghanistan, Mr. Gates promised that the United States would take a hard line against corruption in the Afghan government. He also echoed Mr. Obama and senior military commanders by saying that the president’s deadline for the start of withdrawals of United States forces from Afghanistan next July would be a gradual beginning, not a massive departure.

“If the Taliban really believe that America is heading for the exits next summer in large numbers, they’ll be deeply disappointed and surprised to find us very much in the fight,” he said.

Recently, Max and I escaped to Yosemite for a couple days. We decided to hike one of the suggested hikes - I chose the Yosemite Valley Floor hike - it was a 13 mile "moderate" hike and seemed reasonable to me.

We took the shuttle from the Ahwahnee Hotel to where the hike would start. Max explained that he felt the views would be so much more breathtaking if we hiked up and not just around. He thought that the Upper Yosemite Falls hike would be a good choice. I agreed with his opinion and didn't think much about it...until probably close to 2 hours into our straight up the mountain hike...which, in the hike guide, was labeled as "strenuous." I might have wondered, once or twice, what I had been thinking...

I think that despite wearing all black clothes in 90 degree heat on a strenuous hike, I did quite well. Max carried a full backpack and thrived up the mountain...but, let's not forget where he had been all last year. Heat and mountains were a part of his everyday life.

We finished the hike in about 5 hours. The shuttle driver back to the hotel explained that we'd have to switch shuttles to get door-to-door service. From my comfy seat on the shuttle, I hear the driver mention to Max that another option would be to walk the ten minute walk from where he would drop us off to the hotel. Max thought walking sounded great. I sat in my seat and wondered why in the world he would want to walk more. Needless to say, we switched shuttles.

I recommend this hike, all said and done...but, here are a few statistics about it from a review from yosemitehikes.com:

Distance: 7.6 miles (12 km) round trip from the Lower Yosemite Falls trailhead; 9.4 miles (15 km) including Yosemite Point

Elevation at trailhead: 3,967 feet (1,347 meters)
Elevation at top of Yosemite Falls: 6,526 feet (1,989 meters)
Elevation at Yosemite Point: 6,936 feet (2,114 meters)

Elevation gain: 2,600 feet (790 meters) to the top of Yosemite Falls; 2,969 feet (890 meters) to Yosemite Point

Hiking Time: 6 - 10 hours. Don't double-book hikes on days when you've got this one on your schedule.

Why hike to the top of Yosemite Falls? It's the mother of all stairmaster workouts, but with one-of-a-kind payoffs you won't get in a gym: panoramic views of Yosemite Valley; the only place outside Sentinel Dome where all of Yosemite Falls is visible (though you can't actually see it all at once unless you've got Exorcistesque peripheral vision); the chance to walk through the spray from upper Yosemite Falls; the chance to photograph Yosemite Falls and Half Dome in the same frame; and from Yosemite Point, closeup views of Half Dome that you can only beat by climbing North Dome.

Difficulty: High. It's a long, steep climb from the valley floor to the valley rim, and we rate it an 8 out of 10. Consider this question: would you climb the stairs all the way to the top of the Empire State Building? Well, in the course of your hike to Upper Yosemite Falls, you'll climb the equivalent of just over two Empire State Buildings

The Increasing Role and Influence of Military Spouses
By TIM HSIA
NYTimes (A Soldier Writes Commentary, 8/13/10)

I am leaving active duty this month, and the biggest fan of this change is my wife. The decision to leave the military did not come easily. During required counseling sessions with my battalion and brigade commanders, these senior officers sought to persuade me to stay on active duty.

Peers and subordinates also sought to persuade me, many citing the troublesome economy as a good reason to keep a steady job. But the counsel of commanders and soldiers, despite their good intentions, did not equal my wife’s influence and her recommendation that I leave. She no longer wants to deal with the hardships associated with deployments and training missions.

As the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq have continued, the military has become more attuned to the concern of the families of service members.

The first lady, Michelle Obama, has sought to provide more support for military families, and the vice president’s wife, Jill Biden, has played a cameo role in the television show “Army Wives.”

There is also a highly readable blog by and for military spouses, SpouseBuzz.

In today’s military, military spouses play an active role not just in their spouses’ decisions but also in decisions that affect their spouses’ military unit. They are involved not only with the local military community, but also within the military command structure.

Family Readiness Groups
Each unit has a Family Readiness Group (F.R.G.), which is composed of the spouses of soldiers. The role of the F.R.G. is to help families adapt to the military lifestyle and to provide spouses with information regarding their loved ones during deployments.

The F.R.G. not only sponsors picnics, coffee hours, weekend trips, and video chats to loved ones overseas but also liaises with commanders in order to keep up the information flow to military families. One of the main responsibilities of F.R.G. leaders is to provide guidance to commanders to ensure their policies take into account not just the soldier, but also the concerns of their families.

Initially F.R.G.s were simply informal wives clubs, but the military has moved to institutionalize these groups in order to better serve military families, and also to ensure these groups encompassed every military family within a unit.

My wife and I found the F.R.G. to be of great assistance when I was assigned to a base in a remote part of Germany. The F.R.G. helped to prepare our move there by providing a slew of information such as what we would need upon arrival, currency exchange rates and travel tips.

When the F.R.G. is inclusive, it thrives. However, there are instances when the F.R.G. can serve as a detriment to a unit, and also hinder the military operations of a deployed unit.

In one F.R.G. there was so much division among the spouses that it threatened the cohesion within the rank and file of the unit. One commander’s wife threatened to have a subordinate fired during a heated phone conversation. Because of this threat and other issues posed by the F.R.G. leader, the commander said, “the need to deal with challenges involving the unit’s family support group nearly every other day” took away time he “could have been using to focus on the war.”

The advice of military spouses is not just limited to the realm of the unit. For example, the military chain of command from the Joint Chiefs of Staff has embraced Greg Mortenson’s educational efforts in Afghanistan partly because “of the popularity of ‘Three Cups of Tea’ among military wives who told their husbands to read it.”

Social Pressure
A supportive spouse has almost become a prerequisite for soldiers who aspire to a high rank. I have yet to serve under any officer or senior noncommissioned officer who is single. The vast majority of career officers and NCOs are married, and being single can actually be detrimental to one’s career because one’s subordinates and their wives can unfairly cast the single service member as being out of touch with the demands and needs of the military family.

For married service personnel, it is often frowned upon when one’s spouse is not closely affiliated and identified with the family readiness group. As a soldier rises in the ranks, the roles and responsibilities s expected of his or her spouse also greatly increase.

There is an expectation that spouses married to someone in a senior leadership position should also be leaders within the F.R.G. and military community. Spouses who hold down demanding nonmilitary career jobs have told my wife and me that they felt they have been pushed outside of a unit’s social circle when they did not devote enough time to their F.R.G.

I have tremendous empathy for military spouses because of the demands placed on them by a military that has been constantly at war.

These spouses must bear not only frequent deployments but also being stationed in remote bases. Gen. Stanley A. McChrystal in his retirement ceremony best summarizes the demands of being in the military, professionally and personally:

“Service in this business is tough and often dangerous,” he said. “It extracts a price for participants, and that price can be high. It is tempting to protect yourself from the personal and professional cost of loss by limiting how much you commit, how much you believe and trust in people, and how deeply you care.”

The military lifestyle is not easy on marital relationships. I can easily recall my wife’s birthdays because they are marked by significant military events: the day before we moved to Germany, the day before a deployment, or during a deployment.

Additionally, while the suicide rate of service members has received much attention, another troubling rate is the increasing divorce rate of couples in the military. One of the saddest things to witness during a deployment is witnessing a fellow soldier’s marriage fall apart.

My wife made me promise during the last deployment that I would never again be separated from her for such a long period. I am thankful that I am living up to this promise.

I am keenly aware and grateful for the thousands of other military spouses who are patiently and anxiously awaiting their loved one’s return from a deployment. Many Americans are grateful for the troops serving overseas, they should also be thankful for the spouses who support these troops. These military spouses also deserve our thanks.


This is Capt. Tim Hsia’s last regular post for At War. An active duty U.S. Army infantry captain, he launched A Soldier Writes in August 2009 after a chance meeting with Times correspondent Stephen Farrell in January 2008 during a military operation in the Iraqi province of Diyala.

I have to laugh because Max has worn his dress blue uniform more in the last month than in the past 4 years we've been married. First, there was the ball at Ft. Lewis. Since he has been on leave while in San Francisco, he has attended some events to which he has worn his dress blues. Last night, for example, Secretary of Defense Robert Gates spoke at the Marines' Memorial. Dropping Max off downtown, he certainly stood out in the crowd at rush hour while crossing Sutter Street.

Last month, the weekend I flew to Ft. Lewis to meet Max when he returned from Afghanistan, I was struck by all the people in uniform - it had been quite some time since I had been on post. Living in a non-military city for a year, I almost forgot what it was like to see people in uniform on a daily basis - picking kids up from school, in the grocery store, in a restaurant, on the sidewalk, etc.

It sure was nice to see all those uniforms back home!

Toddler adjustments

It took two weeks after a whole year apart, but our toddler has finally warmed up to having his dad back home. From the moment Max returned, he had our son smiling and laughing...it was just when he tried to hold him or especially when he tried to change his diaper (poor Max!)....Ollie wanted nothing to do with his dad.

So, we took it one day at a time, and now, not only does Ollie run to Max; he asks for him if he's not nearby and yesterday, he only wanted Max to change his diaper (lucky Max!).

Of course, we figured there would be some adjustment. I'm just glad it's smoothed itself out. Also, I'm wondering how long this daddy only changing diaper thing will last... :)

Last week at Ft. Lewis, Max had a rehearsal for his unit's welcome home/change of command/awards ceremony. He said we should "come by and check it out," and asked if I could bring some paperwork he had forgotten that morning. So, my friend Kristin and I did...we didn't know it would be a 2 hour rehearsal...at which there were no other civilians.

There were several soldiers in uniform standing near us watching the soldiers practice what would be a major event the next day. We befriended one of them who was standing near us after we asked him how long he thought the rehearsal would last. This, of course, began a whole series of other questions we had about what we were watching...all of which he politely answered.

We didn't know anything about him other than his last name, "Brown," which was on his uniform.

I explained, as the rehearsal was wrapping up, that I had to give my husband some papers he asked me to bring. He asked who my husband was and when I told him, he said Max was his Company Commander. We all had formally introduced ourselves by now.

When Kristin and I saw Max after the rehearsal, we told him that we met Jarrett Brown. Max smiled and said, "Staff Sergeant Brown, he's in my company; he's receiving a Silver Star tomorrow."

A Silver Star is the 3rd highest military decoration there is - The Silver Star is awarded to a person who, while serving in any capacity with the U.S. Army, is cited for gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States while engaged in military operations involving conflict with an opposing foreign force, or while serving with friendly foreign forces engaged in armed conflict against an opposing armed force in which the United States is not a belligerent party.

We stood with Jarrett Brown for a while at that rehearsal and he didn't mention a thing about his award...even when we asked him what kinds of things would take place during the actual ceremony.

Needless to say, at the event the next day, Kristin and I found him and congratulated him. We even forced him to take a picture with each of us. His family wasn't able to be there for his big day so we felt like we needed to be those embarrassing family members who don't stop taking pictures.

Staff Sergeant Jarrett Brown received the Silver Star for heroic action last August in a firefight in Afghanistan. As he was awarded his medal, his acts of heroism were explained in detail. You can't begin to imagine all that this brave man did.

I feel privileged to know him.

An evening at the ball

5th Brigade welcomed home
Military: Unit by unit, 4,000 soldiers make return to base
CHRISTIAN HILL; Staff writer; The Olympian; Published July 23, 2010

Joint Base Lewis-McChord - On his 26th birthday, Spc. Benjamin Breckheimer had another reason to celebrate. He was among the hundreds who gathered Thursday morning to welcome home his Stryker unit, the 5th Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, after a yearlong deployment to Afghanistan.

The brigade’s 4,000 soldiers started trickling home, plane by plane, several weeks ago, but this was the first time they were all safely back home together.

Breckheimer wore a metal frame on his shattered right leg.

“It’s good to see these guys,” said the cavalry scout from Wisconsin, who had both legs injured in a roadside bomb explosion two months into his tour. “I’ve been separated from them for the last 10 months. I was the last in my troop to get hurt, and I’m happy for that, that no one else got hurt, because it’s really hard.”

His brigade was the first of the Army’s seven Stryker units to deploy to Afghanistan. It had been slated to go to Iraq, but received new orders late in its training to be part of the buildup of additional troops as violence was increasing in Afghanistan.

Two other local brigades, the 3rd and 4th Stryker teams, were sent to Iraq last summer, which means two more major homecoming ceremonies will follow in the next several weeks as Lewis-McChord refills with soldiers and their families.

Col. Harry Tunnell IV, who commanded the 5th brigade, praised his soldiers’ performance in taking the fight to the Taliban and improving security for the civilian population across five southern Afghanistan provinces.

“We lived up to our motto to strike and destroy our nation’s enemy to the American people in response to the contemptible attacks of Sept. 11, 2001,” Tunnell told the soldiers standing in formation on the main parade ground.

It proved a difficult adjustment and tough mission. Thirty-seven soldiers died during the deployment, and 239 others were wounded.

Tunnell said before the ceremony that most of the casualties were absorbed as the brigade went into areas “infested with Taliban” that had not seen a large coalition force to that point. He said security stabilized as his troops better understood the environment, including its language and culture, and gathered good intelligence on the enemy.

Staff Sgt. David Thornton, a 28-year-old combat engineer, said the deployment was much more difficult than his tour in Iraq. His job was to clear roadside bombs, or improvised explosive devices. In Iraq, he focused on roads, but he said the presence of the enemy and IEDS was more pervasive this time.

“In Afghanistan, you never know what you’re going to get,” he said after the ceremony. “The terrain was a lot worse. Our equipment was never designed for that type of terrain. The Stryker (vehicle) does great on that terrain, but it can’t handle IEDS like the MRAPs (Mine Resistant Ambush Protected Vehicles) can, in my opinion.”


During the ceremony, applause followed wounded soldiers as they rejoined their comrades with the aid of wheelchairs, crutches, canes and prostheses. Some soldiers were flown in from Walter Reed and Brooke army medical centers, where they continue to receive treatment. More than 90 injured soldiers attended the ceremony.

Family members of the fallen soldiers also were recognized in remarks by commanders and applause by the audience.

A brigade soldier received the Silver Star, the nation’s third-highest honor for valor in combat. Sgt. Jarrett Brown, an assistant gunner, was recognized for his actions when his unit came under attack in the Arghandab River Valley on Aug. 24.

Brown exposed himself to heavy enemy fire three times in an effort to slow the enemy’s advance and drag his assistant gunner, who was suffering from extreme heat exhaustion, to safety, according to the award citation. He was unavailable for interviews.

The brigade also received a new commander – Col. Barry Huggins – and a new name – the 2nd Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division – during the ceremony. Huggins, who previously served as an executive officer and battalion commander for the Lewis-McChord 3rd Brigade, took over from Tunnell.

Two mothers expressed frustration that their sons were unable to attend the welcome-home event.

Judy Schulz and her husband drove 2,400 miles from Tennessee to pick up their 20-year-old son, Spc. Daniel Schulz. He was unable to attend because he had to complete paperwork and screenings before the Army would release him on monthlong block leave.

Schulz said her son told her about 200 other soldiers were in the same situation. Schulz said her son returned July 13 and remarked that his outprocessing should have been taken care of earlier.

Maj. Kathleen Turner, an I Corps spokeswoman, said it was unfortunate but necessary as soldiers were squeezed through a limited number of modules this week in an effort to get their leave started by this weekend.

Turner said soldiers will have other chances, such as military balls, to be welcomed and thanked for their service.

Home sweet home

On Thursday July 15th, we watched Max's plane land on a large screen set up in the gym at Ft. Lewis. He landed a couple of hours away from the post and they took a bus to where we were waiting shortly after landing.

The gym was filled with people, excitement, flags and anticipation. As it grew later, the small children grew more exhausted but fought to stay awake to see their parent again after so long. My child, at age 2, came for a couple of hours and then went back to the hotel with my mother-in-law because Max wasn't physically getting in until midnight or after.

I waited and watched...there was so much to see around me. Once their bus arrived, we assembled in this gym, facing the soldiers but were not able to actually see them yet. The partition that separated us from them was finally removed and there they stood, assembled in formation. I tried to find Max in the sea of camouflage but my father-in-law beat me to it.

A General spoke, someone sang a song, and then in an instant, they were "released," and came running to us, each in search of his/her family. I found Max and after I leapt into his arms, I snapped the above photograph just as he was saying, "It's good to be home."

Redeployments

Max is currently in Afghanistan awaiting the plane that will bring him home. We, the spouses, receive a call 24 hours before our husbands land. Words can't accurately describe how that phone call feels. A year at war is a long time.

The Army, keeping things simple, refers to returning from a deployment as a "redeployment."

I've learned a few key things from past redeployments:

* My stomach is overtaken by butterflies anticipating the initial greeting...why, is beyond me. I'm married to the guy, after all.

* He hasn't slept comfortably for a very long time but he'd never acknowledge that.

* They're all advised not to drive a vehicle for two weeks since he hasn't driven on paved roads in a car for a year. I think this is a good rule.

* His ruck sacks stink. If it were up to me, I'd throw them all out. But, my husband doesn't throw anything out...ever. So, we do laundry for the next week, non-stop.

* During our time apart, we've both changed and grown in different ways and we have to share our experiences with one another.

* It takes about a month for it to sink in that he is really home.

U.S. Army soldiers carry a critically wounded American soldier on a stretcher to an awaiting MEDEVAC helicopter from Charlie Co. Sixth Battalion, 101st Airborne Combat Aviation Brigade, Task Force Shadow June 24, 2010 near Kandahar, Afghanistan. (Justin Sullivan/Getty Images)

I usually try to post uplifting photos on this blog but something about this one made me want to stare at it and delete it at the same time.

2 more weeks and he's home!

I have been afforded some incredible opportunities in my life and with each passing year, I am better able to reflect, appreciate and learn from these experiences. And, with time, I look at the challenges as feats, the hardships as lessons and the happy times as treasures. As such, I can’t imagine ever not reflecting on my experiences as a military wife during a time of war.

I often think about the wives of veterans from previous wars and wonder if they, like I, think to their days as a military spouse with introspection. To say that I will remember this period of my life with profoundly complex emotions would be an understatement.

Being married to someone in the military over the course of the many years of Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom has been life-changing.

It’s almost hard to find the words to properly define the emotions that I have felt: pride for the uniform that my husband wears that represents our great country. Fear for his deployments into combat; a combined fear of the unknown and of being misunderstood. Happiness for when I receive the call that he is back again on American soil and I can pick him up and bring him home. Sadness for the fact that he has seen far too much for his young age…for any age. Confusion for all of the politics and policies that many cannot seem to get past in order to simply support our troops.

When people ask me how I do it or where my strength comes from, I explain that I don’t have a choice; I married someone who believed in serving his country. He was, after all, in the Army when I married him. Did I fully understand all that entailed before becoming an Army wife? Definitely not. Has it been easy? Most certainly not. But, all said and done, I wouldn't change a thing because it has taught me to value life and cherish love in a way that I probably would have taken for granted had we just lived a "normal" life.

With two weeks left until his year-long deployment is over, I await his return with an enormous sense of relief. Yet, somehow, it still feels like an eternity away.

U.S. Army Capt. Max Hanlin, commander of Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 17th Infantry Regiment of the 5th Stryker Brigade, says his good-byes to children as he leaves a village gathering, Tuesday, May 18, 2010, in Afghanistan's Kandahar province. Julie Jacobson/AP

AP Photo/May

United States Army Lt. Gibbons, right, and Capt. Max Hanlin, both of Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 17th Infantry Regiment of the 5th Stryker Brigade, talk with Afghan men during a patrol to their rural village, Tuesday, May 18, 2010, in Afghanistan's Kandahar province.

Max is the one sitting to the Afghan elder's left looking straight ahead.

Pentagon complains of 'negative' picture of Afghan war
By Dan De Luce (AFP)
6/18/10

WASHINGTON — The Pentagon on Thursday said US-led forces are making headway against the Taliban, despite what it called an overly gloomy portrayal of the war shaped by media coverage.

US and NATO troops have taken back territory from insurgents over the past year and bolstered security across the country, but the progress has often been "overshadowed" by violence in southern provinces, press secretary Geoff Morrell said.

"Now, we're far from perfect. We've got a long way to go in each of those places," Morrell told reporters.

"But this notion that there has not been progress made I think is an erroneous one."

His comments reflected a worry in the Pentagon and NATO about losing control of the "narrative" of the war amid mounting casualties, with media coverage and commentary possibly undermining public confidence that the campaign can be won.

US officials and military commanders this week faced tough questioning from members of Congress, as lawmakers on the left and right cast doubt on the administration's claims of slow but steady progress in the war.

Defense Secretary Robert Gates last week in Brussels said he was "impatient" with media coverage that sometimes failed to convey overall progress while focusing on difficulties in the southern provinces of Kandahar and Helmand.

Gates told lawmakers on Wednesday it was too early to reach conclusions about the war effort, as a surge of 30,000 troops was still underway and a new strategy introduced only months ago.

The Pentagon on Thursday questioned whether reports from journalists accompanying US units ended up providing an incomplete view of how the war was going.

"If the unit you're with, embedded with, is having a good day, the war is going well," Morrell said. "If the unit you're with is having a (bad) day, the war is going badly."

"I have mused aloud about how can we find ways to expose people to the broader picture in Afghanistan, so that we're able to put Helmand and Kandahar in a broader perspective."

Morrell said there were numerous encouraging signs in Afghanistan, with more progress in areas where US forces deployed earlier, including parts of Helmand where Marine units moved about a year ago.

"The areas where our strategy has been employed the longest have improved the most," he said, citing the districts of Nawa and Now Zad.

"I think we are beginning to see... a proof of concept in some areas."

In Marjah in central Helmand, the scene of a much-touted US-led offensive in February, commanders say military and political progress has been slower than expected with the Taliban still exerting influence.

But Morrell said the outcome in Marjah has been positive generally, saying the Taliban lost control of an area they once completely dominated.

"Six months ago, Marjah was the stronghold -- the Taliban stronghold in the Helmand River valley. They owned it. They no longer own it," he said.

U.S. Army Soldier shakes hands with a small Afghan boy during Task Force Iron Grey’s visit to the refugee camp out side Mehtar Lam City, Laghman Province, Afghanistan. The goal of the visit is to distribute 1,000 radios among local refugees in an attempt to bring them closer to the Afghan government. June 2, 2010.(U.S. Army photo by Spc. Victor Egorov/ Released)(100502-A-5983E-128)

A memory from the Ranger Rendezvous celebration at Ft. Benning (Columbus, GA, 2007):

Ranger Rendezvous is a unit tradition, an event held every other year when the Regiment welcomes a new Colonel and farewells the outgoing Colonel. It’s always held at Ft. Benning in Columbus, GA where the Regimental Headquarters and 3rd Ranger Battalion are located. The event is kicked-off by a mass tactical airborne operation (parachuting) and followed by days of demonstrations, events and between-Battalion athletic competitions (think soccer, wrestling, tug-of-war).

That August in Columbus, the temperature was off the charts. I learned to accept it; something didn’t seem quite right about complaining about the weather to a bunch of Rangers, so I pushed through and pretended it was fun to be in direct sunlight on a field all day. Eventually, the 1st Ranger Battalion’s S-5 shop set up and in no time, swarms of people began showing up, awaiting the parachuting Rangers.

I noticed a bunch of men with leather jackets, jeans, motorcycle boots and long hair.

“Max,” I interrupted him talking to Sergeant Langston about whether or not to hang a few tee-shirts from the tent, “Who are all of those guys? Are they a motorcycle club?”

He glanced in the direction to face the men to which I was referring and began laughing, “those guys are probably some vets...I'd guess Vietnam.”

“Oh, of course,” I nodded, feeling stupid. Motorcycle club?

When it was time for the Rangers to land via parachutes, everyone gathered to huddle on the field. Soon enough, the C-130 airplanes were first heard and then quickly seen, followed by popping parachutes, one after another, plane after plane. It was quite a sight. Since one of the Ranger Battalions was deployed (they are on a constant rotation schedule), the two remaining Battalions were the show.

I overheard a wife who was standing with her friend next to me say, “I hope there aren’t too many injuries.”

That, of course, reminded me of the time when a parachute jump of Max’s didn’t land the way he had hoped and consequently landed him on crutches.

“Max,” I said, turning to him, “Are there always a few jumpers who get injured?”

“There usually are a couple of them,” he explained, “Sometimes, it’s just a twisted ankle and sometimes it’s a concussion, like the one I got from my jump.”

Right. I had forgotten he had a concussion from another jump the year prior. The Rangers had to complete a certain number of jumps each year to maintain their airborne status.

“Well, they all appear to have landed just fine,” I asserted, confidently.

“Okay then, subject matter expert,” Max laughed back at me.

Once the jumpers had all landed, the Rendezvous officially began.

A picture from my wedding, four years ago today. Since this photo was taken, Max has many more medals on his uniform and I have have many more wrinkles on my face. I think in four years, we've spent one anniversary together...but I can't even remember which it was...the life of an Army wife!

When uniforms blend together

My best teacher friend from Savannah and I spoke on the phone tonight and we laughed about this memory (she came with me to the awards ceremony at which Max received his Bronze Star):

It was announced that the wives of the soldiers whose names were called could go to their husbands and pin on their award. There were hundreds of soldiers in the auditorium; I didn't even know where to begin to look for Max.

Frantically, I leaned over to my right, “so where did you say he is, Karla?”

“Oh gosh, I have no idea where he is now,” she whispered with her soothing southern accent, “I just saw him talking to someone when we first arrived.”

“Well, they are lined up by company. I just don't know where his is." I declared.

Sure enough, the S1 began reading the names of the Bronze Star recipients and of course, wives began popping up one by one.

“Captain Maxwell Hanlin begin_of_the_skype_highlighting end_of_the_skype_highlighting,” he announced.

“Karla, what should I do? I can’t just wander around in search of him in front of all of these people.”

This is where Max’s and my personality differ. He claims I care way too much what other people think of me. He is right. I have actually not done things that I have later regretted for fear of looking like an idiot. This time was a perfect example. I just stayed next to Karla, sinking in my seat. There was plenty of commotion going on as people were walking to their husbands. I really doubt anyone would have noticed me weaving through the soldiers in hopes of finding mine.

So, as the S1 kept on announcing names, Karla taps my knee and says, “here comes Max right now."

Max was walking right toward me with his hands up in a “where were you” sort of gesture.

“I am so sorry, I had no idea where you were,” I explained, before he said anything. Curious, I asked him where he had been standing.

“Right over there,” he pointed, “with my company.”

“I thought your company was over there, but I didn’t see you. It’s not exactly a small company (HHC was the largest),” I confessed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Max told me lightheartedly.

“Did you have to pin your Bronze Star on yourself?

“No,” Max laughed, “a Major did it, thank you very much.”

"Freedom is a light for which many men have died in darkness." - George Washington

BBQs and Colonels

Last night I caught up with my friend Peggy whose husband recently was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. I told her how intimidated I used to be by Colonels when I first became an Army wife. Until, that is, this took place:

We were at a battalion bbq and Hail and Farewell ceremony at a Savannah Sand Gnats game...

When it came time to eat, I stood in line for my food. Max was standing nearby, talking to other Rangers. I wear glasses when I drive, and after the following situation happened, Max suggested I that wear them all the time. Once I had my plate full, I shifted away from the food table to look for Max. I have always said that identifying Max with other Rangers around was hard for me...they all sort of looked the same in uniform.

At this event, no one was in uniform so, theoretically, this shouldn't have taken place.

Convinced I had spotted Max talking in a small group of men, I quietly approached their circle, with my food in hand. As I eased my way next to Max, well at least, I thought it was Max, I gazed around the group and but did not recognize a soul. “Maybe these are all people he has not introduced me to yet,” I thought to myself. With that, I looked up only to see that in fact, I was not standing next to my husband at all. Embarrassed, I smiled and quietly reversed myself from their circle before interrupting their conversation. I was hoping no one had even noticed me. Luckily, I immediately saw my friend and rushed up to her.

“Oh my gosh, I am completely mortified, do you think everyone saw?” I began. “I thought Max was in that group over there and went to their circle and stood next to that guy, thinking he was Max,” I said without taking a breath.

My friend laughed and asked, “Which guy did you think was Max?”

“Well, I can’t see distances too well, obviously, and I thought that one wearing the orange-ish shirt was him. Max is wearing the same khaki shorts and the same color shirt,” I remarked, trying to convince myself that anyone would have confused the two.

“Um, that guy that you’re talking about is the Colonel,” she said bursting into hysterics.

“What?” I exclaimed, horrified.

“There’s Max, over there,” she said pointing. I walked over to Max wanting to melt away from the embarrassment.

“You will never believe what I just did,” I whispered to him.

He looked nervous, “should I sit down?”

“No, no, it’s not that bad, at least I don’t think it is that bad,” I assured him.

I told him what had happened and he did not believe me. My friend came over to us, nudged me and jokingly asked, “so did the Colonel have anything interesting to say?”

Max's eyes were as wide as could be!