Fighting the war on two fronts

The Hussein regime has been ousted, another government soon will rule Iraq. But a Cape Girardeau Xerox salesman counts down the days until he leaves Baghdad.

The 24-hour war coverage has ceased, and POW Jessica Lynch has been given a hero's welcome. But a Woodland High School graduate keeps searching for hidden documents and wanted enemies.

Saddam's sons are killed in a raid, the photos shown to the world as proof of their demise. Meanwhile, a Cape Girardeau mom sends a message of love to her children, Ashleigh and Alec.

While much of the nation has turned its attention away from the perils of Iraq, soldiers abroad and families back home are still trying to cope with separation. Care packages still leave Southeast Missouri post offices. Children still whisper nightly prayers. And wives still write their husbands every day.

The troops, meanwhile, grind it out in the desert. They support each other, perform their duties and try to find different ways to kill time when they're not busy. They miss home as much as their families miss them.

Whether from the comfort of an air-conditioned house here or from the sandy oven otherwise known as Iraq, everybody directly affected by the war has a way of getting through another day and dealing with the uncertainty of not knowing when, or in the back of their minds, if, they'll be coming home.

Breaking down doors

Stephen Presley II, a 2001 graduate of Woodland High School in Bollinger County, doesn't get much sleep at night.

The 20-year-old army specialist wrote his family a letter on July 1, and his mother received it Thursday. It tells how he bursts into Iraqi homes and warehouses, unannounced, in the middle of the night, looking for bad guys and important documents.

The letter tells how two men he knew were killed -- a private first class was shot in the stomach and a staff sergeant was shot in the back of the head, execution style.

It tells how he often hears gunshots at night and how he and his fellow soldiers all watch out for each other.

It tells how 3-year-old Iraqi children come up to him and ask him for food and water, and he wants to give it to them, but he can't -- no one authorized him to.

"We're proud of him," said his mother, Joy Welch, a Cape Girardeau nurse. "It takes some guts to do what he's doing, and we didn't expect all of this."

Welch said she is a nervous wreck and watches the news whenever she can, hoping to catch a glimpse of her son. Every once in a while, she sees a soldier from behind and thinks that he might be Stephen, a small guy. She realizes it's probably just wishful thinking.

It's hard to cope knowing he's in harm's way, she said. But she tries to liken his role as a soldier to that of Presley's Boy Scout days.

"It's hard," she said. "I just keep thinking it's a mission. Just a mission. He's over there for a special reason and once he's done, he'll come back home. He's on a mission to get that Boy Scout badge."

The sun, sand and fleas

To understand how much the troops miss home, one must first understand the conditions where they're living.

First, there's the weather. The high temperatures in that region of the world typically reach 125 degrees this time of year.

Even at night, it's hot. Paul Mingus, the Xerox salesman and an Army Reserve sergeant from the 389th Engineering Battalion, addressed the Cape Girardeau Noon Lions Club lunch meeting Wednesday by satellite phone. He said it was over 90 at 9:30 p.m.

Julie Curtis, a mother of two and staff sergeant with the 1221st Transportation Company of the Army National Guard, said for the first two weeks the company was stationed in Kuwait, they were "climatized."

"It was definitely a shock to the system," said the Cape Girardeau woman in an e-mail to the Southeast Missourian. "You can never say you are totally used to the heat, but you learn to adapt. I have never drank so much water in one day as I do here."

Sgt. Chris Brown, speaking from his satellite phone, said the troops are required to drink a liter of water every hour so they stay hydrated.

"Now, it's just like a hot summer day at home," said Brown, of Marble Hill.

Aside from the weather, the soldiers and troops have to contend with the sand and the wind.

Sandstorms are a daily aggravation where Brown and Curtis are stationed in Kuwait.

"There is nothing like being sandblasted," Curtis said.

And, alas, there are the bugs. Sand fleas nip at the legs of the troops worse than the mosquitoes near a Southeast Missouri pond.

Curtis said everyone has bites from tiny creatures. She has scratched and dug at the bites until they have bled. But there's good news about the fleas. Curtis has been told they will be gone by the end of July. Then, she has been told, she will have to contend with sand flies.

"If it's not one thing, it's another," she said.

Turning off the tube

The Heise family doesn't watch a lot of news.

Angela, a 16-year-old Cape Girardeau Central High School junior, would rather not hear the reports of remote-control, roadside bombs killing U.S. soldiers. She'd rather not know that Saddam loyalists are using grenade launchers and high-powered rifles to pick off American troops. She doesn't want to know that dead bodies are coming home to U.S. families every day.

After all, her dad is over there. And the way she figures it, no news is good news.

Instead of watching news to pass the time, Angela, her 12-year-old sister, Caroline, and her mother, Helen, like to talk.

"We talk about him all the time," she said. "We talk about how he used to be, wondering how he's doing, and waiting for the next phone call or letter. We just all stick together, you know? We just try to make it through and remember him all the time."

Angela's dad is Jeff Heise, a Cape Girardeau plumber who grew up in Jackson. He is a specialist with the 203rd Engineer Battalion of the Army National Guardout of Neosho, Mo., and he is helping rebuild the Baghdad airport.

The "sticking together" that Angela referred to is crucial for the family, especially considering Jeff's unit originates from Neosho, all the way across the state. The Heise family is not privy to the same type of support system that would be available if he was a part of a closer unit.

"Both sides of my family live in Cape and Jackson," Helen said. "And they have been a big help. I have had a lot of people ask me how I am doing while Jeff is away, and I tell them I do what needs to be done to keep the house and the family going."

Tight quarters

The uncomfortable conditions of Kuwait and Iraq don't stop with the temperature and the fleas.

The soldiers live in tents that are not airtight, with other sweaty soldiers. Mingus the Xerox salesman lives in a 16-by-32-foot tent with eight others. He sleeps in a 8-by-7-foot space.

Depending on how developed their camps are and what their mission is, troops can shower every day or every other day.

The sand and the dust kicked up by trucks driving over gravel lots make everything dirty.

"You shower and five minutes after the shower, you come in the tent and you're dirty again," Chris Brown said.

At the Lions Club meeting Wednesday, one member asked Mingus what he missed most besides his family.

"I don't think I can say it out loud," he said, drawing deep chuckles from the all-male audience.

After more consideration, he said he misses cleanliness more than anything. He compared his stay over there to a really long camping trip. He said he uses wet wipes to keep his hands and face clean.

"No matter what you have, it's layered with dust," he said from a camp at the Baghdad airport. "You're never clean. A lot of people lay sheets over their bed, not to sleep on, but so that when they lay down at night, they'll have something clean to lay on."

Brenda Elliott, a Cape Girardeau nurse, got a letter from her son John Scarbrough II, a Marine sergeant and sniper in Iraq. The letter was dated June 26, but Elliott didn't get it until July 17.

"There is no water where he was at," Elliott said. "And he just got to wash his clothes for the first time in two months."

But it's not all bad for everyone, particularly those involved in restoration missions.

The longer they're over there and the more care packages that are sent, the more Americanized the camps become. Mingus said televisions, DVD players and PlayStations are available. They also have fans, refrigerators and microwaves.

Staying busy with family

Many of the wives who remain back home say they try to stay busy and not think about their men being gone.

Staying busy is easier for some than others.

Rebecca Brown, Chris' wife, has two children, Bethany, 6 and Aaron, 3. Taking care of them keeps her occupied.

Bethany, whose birthday is Sept. 11, is a talkative sort who likes to tell stories. Her eyes get big and sparkle when she speaks of her father, especially the trip to California she and her dad made in his truck last year.

The blond-headed Aaron is a curious and inquisitive handful. He'll turn four in a couple of weeks.

Aaron was there the day he saw Chris take off in an airplane for the Middle East. He hopes his dad is on every plane he sees.

"He told me on the phone that he heard a plane go over the house the other day and he said, 'I just knew it was you,'" Chris said. "He asked me, 'Why don't you just get on a plane and come home?'"

All things considered, Rebecca said the family is holding up, thanks to a lot of family support. She says the immediate and extended family do a lot of things together now, like swimming and going to the movies. Rebecca writes Chris a letter every night, and Bethany and Aaron pray for their dad every day.

"We're doing well," Rebecca said. "We have good days and bad days just like everybody else."

Rebecca doesn't talk much with other wives from the company because some of them tend to be more pessimistic or confused about what is really happening, she said.

"A couple weeks after they left, somebody was spreading it around that they were getting shot at already, but it turned out they were confused. Some of the stuff they say gets you scared, and you have to somehow be in control and keep your emotions under wraps," she said.

"I know some people who never expected to be called up; they were just in it for extra weekend money and retirement, and they complain that they had to go. I knew what I was getting into when I got married, and Chris is really glad to be over there doing something to serve his country."

Wanted: satellite phones

When it comes to coping with separation, there is nothing more uplifting than communication.

To troops in Iraq, satellite phones are wanted almost as much as Saddam Hussein.

Some, like Paul Mingus, have one and use it every day to call home.

Others, like Chris Brown, have one but use it sparingly because of the expense to use it. It's cheaper to receive a call than send one. To receive a call, it costs about 50 cents a minute.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there are some, like Scarbrough and Presley, who can only write letters and have very little time to do so.

Regardless, communication is at a premium.

And when the soldiers communicate, they usually have a wish list.

Paul Mingus recently asked his wife, Cindy, to send the guys a set of horseshoes. But before she dropped them in the mail at the post office, she dropped them on her foot. She broke a bone, and Paul's good friend Brandon Hahs had to play surrogate husband and take her to the emergency room.

Cindy is limping around now in a bulky, protective boot.

"He better play with those horseshoes," she said.

On Wednesday, Rebecca sent a plastic cabinet to Chris.

Kathy James has sent son Josh Butler food: chocolate chip cookies, fried pecans, pudding, sardines and smoked oysters. Every Sunday, she and a friend bake goodies and send it to Josh, a 21-year-old from Jackson.

Al and Terrie Weaver's son, Ben, serves in Army intelligence. He can't tell them where he's at or what he's doing. They were, however, able to send him an air mattress and some bug spray.

No place like home

Published national reports say recent bombings and shootings of American soldiers have sapped the morale of the troops.

In reality, the soldiers and their families say, morale changes from person to person and day to day.

While many troops may complain about the heat and the fleas, you'll have a hard time finding a soldier who complains about work. They're doing the jobs they were trained to do and, despite the conditions, are excited about and proud of their duties.

The worst part about being separated, many say, is not knowing when they'll meet their loved ones again.

In many cases, troops are not coming home as soon as their superiors speculated. As situations have changed, some are staying longer than they hoped.

Others simply have no clue.

"We have no idea when we will be coming back home," Curtis said. "Our battalion has not put out any time frame. I wish I knew."

Some wives in the battalion hope for a Christmas return.

Chris Brown is braced for a year of service, the maximum time he can be placed on active duty under Reserve regulations.

Mingus, stationed at the Baghdad International Airport post, takes the same approach.

"We've been at BIAP 53 days, out of the United States 80 days and on active duty for 138 days," he said Wednesday. "If we do a full year, we're 225 days from going home. Nobody's counting though."

For those who are counting, it's now 221 days.

bmiller@semissourian.com

243-6635