Father, plumber, soldier

Jeff Heise, a plumber by trade, sits on his broken-in couch of his unpretentious Cape Girardeau family room, wearing a red and black plaid shirt and a pair of blue jeans. He reaches his left arm around his made-over and slimmer wife Helen and his right arm around his oldest daughter Angela, a junior at Cape Girardeau Central High School.

Jeff, a sandy-haired 46-year-old Jackson High School graduate (and darn proud of it), begins to reveal his experiences for the last eight months. The former Navy man and Naval reservist tells how he helped rebuild looted schools, how he slid down the banister at one of Saddam Hussein's palaces and how he was surprised that the toilets in Iraq were little more than "glorified outhouses."

At the same time, he said, local engineers could take a lesson from the Iraqis on how to build a roundabout.

Jeff, Helen, Angela and 12-year-old Caroline, the youngest daughter, share a few laughs and exchange some inside jokes. Helen says Angela hasn't stopped smiling since Sunday. The family couldn't appear happier now that Dad is back where he belongs, if only for a little while.

The mood changes slightly as Jeff explains how he also served on security detail. Sometimes, he kept watch over the perimeter of a work zone, protecting not only the U.S. workers but also the innocent passers-by.

Then comes the question, and Jeff answers it as warmly and openly as he answers all the others.

"Yeah, we've had potshots taken at us," he says nonchalantly. Military police "found where they were at and arrested them. As far as I know, they're sitting in a POW camp right now."

Angela turned her head away from her father and shifted her eyes down and to her right. Helen looked down for a moment, and Caroline continued to hug her mother's arm.

Jeff has been home since Jan. 18, and this was the first mention of any potshots. Troops have been advised to not talk much about the dangers they face in Iraq because it could make their families worry more.

The story takes the family by surprise. For just a few seconds, silence intrudes the once-jovial conversation.

"That's kind of scary," Caroline said.

Jeff's potshot confession was a reality check, and the girls' reaction was a microcosm of the emotions they have felt every day since he has been in Iraq.

But since he stepped off an airplane in Cape Girardeau Sunday afternoon, Spc. Heise of the 203rd Engineer Battalion has celebrated as Jeff Heise, father and husband. He counts his blessings, dotes on his family and barbecues pork chops. He has until Feb. 2 to soak up the Real Life. Then it's back to Baghdad.

For a moment, the mention of bullets sours the conversation, but soon the family exchanges fun stories again.

The girls' anecdotes are more typical ones about family life, work and school. Jeff missed many events in 2003, including Thanksgiving, Christmas and his wife's change in appearance.

Helen, in a self-improvement rather than self-pity mode, cut her "frizzy" hair short, got new dentures and dropped from a size 16 to a size 12. She also joined a bowling league.

Rebuilding schools

Jeff's stories are fascinating, if only because he is doing work in a country where the culture is so different.

For the first four months of his overseas service, Jeff helped rebuild the schools in Baghdad. Most of the schools had some sort of damage, but Jeff says it was mostly from looters who ransacked the classrooms. The thieves took electrical wiring, fans and light fixtures. They broke windows, stole school supplies and removed doors.

Jeff's main duty during the construction was plumbing. But the pipes don't work quite like they do when Jeff and his Cape Girardeau boss Dan Stitz work on them. Gravity, not pumps, moves all the water in Iraq, and it took a while for Jeff to get the hang of the system.

After helping the schools get back in operation, Jeff helped establish relocation camps, the places where families would go if their homes had been destroyed or damaged.

During this assignment, Jeff managed to befriend a group of children ranging from toddler age to teenagers.

Most of the Iraqis are courteous to U.S. soldiers, Jeff says, and greet them with "Hello" or "Hello, Mister" or "How do you do?" But some friendly Iraqis, particularly children, are intimidated by the American uniform.

$1 million and four camels

It took a while for a group of children at the relocation camp to work up the nerve to talk to Jeff, but they decided it was OK when he pulled out photos of his own daughters. A little bit of candy helped break the tension, too.

Jeff showed one boy a photo of Angela and the boy asked Jeff if he would give her to him for his wife.

"One million dollars and four camels," Jeff joked.

"I can get the four camels," the boy replied.

Most of the Iraqis know a little bit of English. Jeff picked up a little Arabic. Between the two languages, Jeff and the children can piece together a simple conversation. He says the children sometimes laugh at him when he speaks incorrectly.

Angela and Caroline laugh at Jeff, too, particularly when they read one of his e-mails. He usually signs off "Your Baghdaddy," a contagious slang phrase used by the troops in Iraq.

When he was in Iraq, Jeff could only get to the telephone when Angela was at work. So e-mail is the family's main communication method. And the communication is with Jeff Heise, not specialist Heise. Helen, especially, tries to put the war "in another place" when she talks or writes to her husband.

Nowadays, for a little while longer, the main method of communication is the spoken word. And laughter. And hugs. And playful teasing.

'Definitely worth it'

But Jeff's visit comes at a price. The more he enjoys his visit, the harder it will be to climb aboard that airplane again. Jeff is happy and sad at the same time.

And, knowing now that the bad guys have taken potshots at their father, the harder it will be for Angela and Caroline to let their dad go back to the Iraqi children.

While he was away, Helen tried not to watch the news, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to know what was going on. Still, she cringed every time there was a report of a soldier being killed.

The insurgents have found unusual ways to kill troops. They dropped grenades from overpasses until troops put up fences. They blow up buildings with car bombs. Jeff's most difficult assignment was cleaning up the U.N. building that was damaged by a car bomb. Since March, more than 500 U.S. troops have been killed, including at least five on Saturday.

Knowing the danger and knowing how much they enjoyed their first week with their dad, Angela and Caroline say it will be harder to say goodbye on Feb. 2 than it was last spring. They'll have to experience the separation all over again. It's a high price to pay for just 16 days.

Then comes the question and she answers it as warmly and openly as she did all the others. But this time, her eyes light up and she looks toward her dad.

"Oh yeah," she says. "It's definitely worth it."

bmiller@semissourian.com

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