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DISPATCH:
Coming
Home
DATELINE:
Baghdad

These
guys
know
this
is
no
time
to
take
chances.
Just
a
week
away
from
going
home
--
the
82nd
Airborne's
2nd
Brigade,
2nd
Battalion,
Alpha
Company
is
conducting
what
could
be
their
final
mission
in
Iraq.
It's
called
Operation
Tidal
Wave
and
involves
nearly
four-thousand
soldiers
sweeping
for
weapons
and
information
in
the
rural
neighborhoods
south
of
Baghdad.
As
dawn
breaks,
Lt.
Francis
Schafer
sends
his
platoon
down
a
muddy
road
to
search
houses
and
bring
all
the
residents
to
a
common
area.
There
he
will
stand
on
top
of
a
Humvee
and
with
a
translator
--
read
a
pamphlet
that
asks
them
to
report
insurgent
activity.
Otherwise,
he
says,
the
coalition
can't
properly
bring
them
the
basic
services
they
needs
like
water
and
electricity.

Despite
the
early
hour,
as
they
gather
in
the
dirt
yard
of
the
first
house,
no
one
seems
particularly
annoyed.
Women
spread
blankets
on
the
ground
where
they
sit
with
their
children.
Other
women
bring
out
wooden
benches
from
the
house
for
the
men
to
sit
on.
But
when
Lt.
Schafer
begins
his
spiel
--
the
women
and
children
are
told
to
go
inside,
while
the
men
stay
to
deal
with
this
business
of
occupation.
They
listen
patiently
until
the
Lieutenant
is
finished
then
they
let
loose
with
a
myriad
of
complaints
about
everything
from
the
lack
of
kerosene
and
propane
to
the
unannounced
searches
of
their
homes.
Schafer
nervously
pops
off
the
cover
from
the
scope
of
his
M4
rifle
and
unconsciously
cleans
the
rubber
eyecup
with
his
fingertip.

He
was
not
expecting
this
to
turn
into
a
public
forum
and
he
doesn't
have
many
answers
for
their
concerns.
He
tells
them
through
the
translator
that
democracy
takes
time,
if
they're
not
getting
enough
propane
and
kerosene
they
need
to
hold
their
neighborhood
council
representatives
accountable.
They
look
as
if
they
don't
grasp
the
concept
--
as
if
it
were
lost
in
the
translation.
As
Kiowa
OH-58
helicopters
and
F-18
Hornet
fighter
jets
buzz
overhead
in
a
deafening
posture
of
intimidation
--
or
what
U.S.
officers
like
to
call
a
"show
of
force,"
Lt.Schafer,
though
diligently
doing
his
job,
looks
as
if
he
would
like
to
be
anywhere
else
but
here;
preferable
back
home
in
Atlanta
going
for
a
long
run.

Alpha
Company
has
been
here
nearly
a
year.
In
a
week
they
will
leave
Iraq
behind.
But
what
they've
seen
here
what
they've
had
to
do
here
–
goes
home
with
them;
roadside
bombs
in
Baghdad,
close
combat
in
Samawa,
killing
and
being
killed.
But
the
Army
realizes
it
can
no
longer
just
put
its
soldiers
on
planes
in
a
war
zone
and
hope
they
can
flip
off
the
killer
switch
on
the
long
ride
back
to
the
home
front.
This
became
tragically
clear
in
the
summer
of
2002,
when
three
Special
Forces
soldiers,
stationed
at
Fort
Bragg,
North
Carolina,
murdered
their
wives--shortly
after
returning
from
Afghanistan.
Two
went
on
to
kill
themselves
after
the
murders.

These
incidents
prompted
the
Army
to
do
more;
to
help
troops
begin
to
make
the
transition
back
to
peacetime--even
before
they
leave
the
war
zone.
The
Army
now
requires
returning
soldiers
to
go
through
several
stages
of
decompression;
classes
and
counseling
taught
by
their
field
commanders
to
help
them
adjust
to
the
changes
in
themselves
and
their
families.
In
a
cramped
room
at
Camp
Falcon
in
Baghdad,
platoon
Staff
Sergeant
Alexander
Aguilastratt
tells
his
guys
what
they
already
know.

"You've
been
close-up
with
the
enemy,"
he
says,
the
men
nod
in
agreement.
He
continues,
"You
looked
him
in
the
eyes
and
shot
him
in
the
head--but
you
have
to
turn
off
the
switch
when
you
get
back
because
you're
going
to
be
dealing
with
American
civilians.
Dealing
with
families.
We
can't
be
the
same
killers
we've
been
all
this
time.
It's
time
for
us
to
go
home."
Aguilastratt
is
speaking
from
the
heart.
He
knows
the
cost
of
war,
as
do
all
the
eyes
upon
him.
"One
of
the
most
difficult
things
I've
ever
seen,"
he
says
to
me
later,
"one
of
my
soldiers,
one
of
my
personal
friends,
who
was
Christopher
Sisson,
being
killed
in
a
helicopter
accident
and
not
being
able
to
do
anything."
Private
First
Class
Christopher
Sisson,
he
says,
saved
his
life
in
the
southern
city
of
Samawa
during
the
war.
When
the
platoon
came
under
attack,
Sisson
moved
to
a
high
position
with
the
squad
assault
weapon
and
held
off
Iraqi
fighters
until
the
platoon
could
regroup
and
counterattack.

After
Sisson
was
killed
Aguilastratt
wanted
to
show
him
proper
respect
by
cleaning
the
blood
from
his
gear
and
uniform.
"Nobody
else
was
going
to
be
allowed
to
touch
his
gear,"
Aguilastratt
says.
"
He
was
an
airborne
soldier
and
he
was
going
to
be
honored
by
airborne
troopers.
Nobody
else."
These
sentiments,
soldiers
know,
can
only
fully
be
comprehended
by
those
they've
bonded
with
under
fire.
After
the
thrill
of
going
home
fades,
they
can
begin
to
feel
isolated
or
angry.
So
in
addition
to
counseling
before
they
leave
Iraq,
the
soldiers
of
the
82n'd
will
also
be
required
to
report
to
Fort
Bragg
every
day
for
a
week,
before
they're
given
leave.
This
way
their
commanding
officers
can
spot
problems
and
help
get
their
men
the
proper
resources
before
problems
gets
bigger
or
turn
violent.

Twenty-four
year
old
Specialist
Ryan
Norris
of
Milwaukee,
Wisconsin
is
older
than
most
of
the
other
soldiers
in
his
platoon.
He
says
he
was
working
mostly
dead-end
jobs,
waiting
tables,
bartending,
before
enlisting
in
the
Army
two
days
before
9-11.
Iraq
he
says
has
changed
him.
"When
I
was
seventeen
and
still
in
high
school,
I
never
thought
I'd
ever
seen
anybody
die.
I
thought
I'd
just
live
a
normal
life,
get
a
job
somewhere,
you
know
work
in
an
office
and
wear
a
tie,"
he
shrugs,
"and
now
that
I'm
out
here
doing
this
I've
seen
parts
of
the
world
I
never
wanted
to
see.
I've
seen
acts
of
violence
that
I
never
thought
I
was
going
to
see
and
it
changes
the
way
you
views
things."
After
a
year
in
Iraq,
Alpha
Company
Commander
Tyson
Voekel
knows
his
guys
have
a
lot
of
issues
to
work
through.
And
he
feels
as
responsible
for
their
well
being
when
they
get
home
and
he
does
when
they're
on
a
mission
in
Baghdad.

"We're
just
trying
to
get
our
guys
to
think
about
these
things
now,"
he
says,
in
between
briefing
the
officers
who
will
replace
him
here,
"everything
from
getting
their
car
licenses
renewed
to
divorce
to
financial
problems
–those
are
all
things
waiting
for
us
when
we
get
home
–that's
just
a
whole
other
battle."
- -
- -
- -

This
is
the
day
Alpha
Company
thought
would
never
come--the
day
they
get
to
go
home.
The
collections
from
the
last
year
of
their
lives
are
stuffed
inside
a
large
duffle
bag
and
olive
green
rucksack.
They
load
their
gear,
then
themselves.
There
is
no
yelling
or
celebrations
yet.
It's
all
a
very
sober
affair.
They
may
be
thinking
about
what
they've
seen…or
what
lies
ahead.
Or
maybe
they're
just
not
thinking
at
all.
They
were
told
twice
before
they
were
going
home--
only
to
have
the
promise
snatched
away.
This
time
it
seems
real.
Captain
Voekel
checks
his
clipboard
before
the
trucks
pull
out.
He
hopes
his
men
will
be
fine
after
they
leave.
The
same
discipline,
he
tells
me,
that
enabled
them
to
shoulder
the
burdens
of
war,
should
help
them
to
live
with
its
memories
in
peace.
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