Warning: The effect of this article is subtle and hard to explain, but I don't recommend reading this if you're at work or something and about to go into a meeting where it might be uncomfortable to be a tad emotional. Email yourself the link and read it at home later when you can get teary and it won't interfere with the productive flow of your day. (Or just take a deep breath before you read it so you can have your guard up...or, of course, you can decide to just go ahead and get emotional. It is healthy and good for the soul and all. I just wanted to warn you and give you the option -- Articles like this can really mess me up sometimes and screw up a group dynamic if they catch me off guard. -- ed.)

Kudos to the team of writers at USA Today that worked on this one.

Nice job guys.

Troops, families await war's real end
By Jack Kelley, Gary Strauss, Martin Kasindorf and Valerie Alvord for USA Today
(Kelley and Strauss reported from Fallujah and Baghdad; Kasindorf from Los Angeles; Valerie Alvord from San Diego).

For the 140,000 U.S. troops in Iraq, the war doesn't seem to end. Some feel angry that they're still here, guilty that they're not with their families and perplexed that their reward for capturing Baghdad has been extra duty in a country they have grown to dislike.

Their families, who watched the liberation of Iraq on TV, expected a clean end to the a hard-fought war. Instead, they worry their loved ones could die keeping peace in a country where U.S. forces are widely regarded as occupiers, not liberators.

Iraq is still a dangerous place. During the 43-day war, 139 U.S. servicemembers died — an average of about three deaths a day. In the six weeks since, 44 have been killed — about one a day...

Large numbers of U.S. troops will probably be in Iraq for at least a year. As military units rotate home, others will take their place in the danger zone. And more families back home will worry about their soldier, Marine, sailor or airman who may be in harm's way.

"Do I think the war is over? No. I think it's an ongoing struggle that we will have to deal with for years," says Vivian LaMont of Eureka, Calif., who buried her son Saturday. Capt. Andrew LaMont, 31, was one of four Marines killed May 19 when their helicopter snagged power lines and crashed into a canal near Hillah. A fifth Marine drowned when he dived into the canal to try to rescue the crew.

The televised images of President Bush landing on the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln on May 1 struck a note of triumph. In a speech from the deck, Bush declared an end to major combat operations. Many military families had the impression of a conclusive end to the war, only to be shattered by the loss of a loved one in the unsettled aftermath in Iraq...

At Eglin Air Force Base in Florida, Michelle Griffin says she is proud of her husband but is angry about his death on May 13. Staff Sgt. Patrick Griffin Jr., 31, a data systems technician, was in a convoy carrying air-traffic-control equipment from Kuwait to Baghdad when he was killed by a sniper's bullet.

Griffin was sent to the Persian Gulf after Bush declared that combat essentially was over. That had comforted his wife and his father but not him. He had told his wife: "It's still going on. People don't like us over there, and (U.S. troops) are going to die."

"It didn't have to happen," Michelle Griffin says. "It shouldn't have happened. And it makes me angry that they're saying the war is over, because it's not. People are still dying."

On May 18, Army Lt. Col. Dominic Rocco Baragona, 42, was in a convoy heading for Kuwait City to load his battalion's gear on ships. Then the soldiers were to fly home to Fort Sill in Oklahoma.

Baragona found time to e-mail his father, Dominic, in St. George Island, Fla. "Dad, a couple of bullets whizzed by our heads, but we're now 60 miles south of Baghdad and we're home free," he wrote. Minutes later in a conversation by satellite phone, he confirmed to his father that he was USA-bound. "So I asked him, 'Rock, what's the worst thing that can happen now?' " his father says. "And he said, 'Dad, something stupid can happen.' "

The next day, near Safwan, a tractor-trailer in the convoy jackknifed and smashed Baragona's Humvee. He became the highest-ranking U.S. officer to die in Iraq.

"For me to fix blame, it wouldn't be fair," his father says. "The only thing I'd kind of like to say is that ... I hope all these things they're lookin' for, these weapons of mass destruction and other things, I hope they find them. ... Then I will feel in my heart that the ultimate sacrifice that he made has some kind of justification."

Here is the full text of the entire article in case the link goes bad:

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/iraq/2003-06-11-cover-usat_x.htm

Troops, families await war's real end
By Jack Kelley, Gary Strauss and Martin Kasindorf, USA TODAY
FALLUJAH, Iraq — Army Spc. Casey Wilcox has experienced a lifetime of emotions in the past three months. He fought a war. He mourned the death of a fellow soldier. He celebrated the birth of his first child from thousands of miles away.
Ryan Griffin, brother of Army Spc. Kyle A. Griffin who was killed in an accident in Iraq on May 30, reaches for his brother's casket. Griffin's father looks on.
By Mike Derer, AP

Last week, just when he thought he was going home in victory to meet his son, Dawson, Wilcox struggled with a crushing disappointment. His brigade was redeployed to this city, where U.S. forces have met some of the worst violence since President Bush declared on May 1 that major combat was over.

"I don't think I've ever been so devastated as on the day they told us," says Wilcox, 20, of Hinesville, Ga. "I've cried several times since then." At home, his wife was equally dashed and says she cried all day. "I don't think it's fair," Michelle Wilcox says.

For the 140,000 U.S. troops in Iraq, the war doesn't seem to end. Some feel angry that they're still here, guilty that they're not with their families and perplexed that their reward for capturing Baghdad has been extra duty in a country they have grown to dislike.

Their families, who watched the liberation of Iraq on TV, expected a clean end to the a hard-fought war. Instead, they worry their loved ones could die keeping peace in a country where U.S. forces are widely regarded as occupiers, not liberators.

Iraq is still a dangerous place. During the 43-day war, 139 U.S. servicemembers died — an average of about three deaths a day. In the six weeks since, 44 have been killed — about one a day.

U.S. forces have recently faced stepped-up attacks, particularly in this central Iraq region where Saddam Hussein loyalists are still active. U.S. officers say the attacks are isolated and don't represent a widespread guerrilla movement. In the past three weeks, 10 U.S. troops have been killed by enemy ambushes or attacks.

In response, the Army has been patrolling more aggressively, attempting to draw out and crush pockets of resistance.

Accidents still account for 70% of the deaths since May 1, according to the Pentagon. Seven men died in two helicopter crashes. Eight servicemen died in munitions explosions. Twelve died in vehicle accidents. Two died when their rifles accidentally discharged. Two drowned in canals.

"Although much progress has been made to provide the Iraqi people with a safer and more secure environment, Iraq continues to present a dangerous environment for our troops," says Army Lt. Col. James Cassella, a Pentagon spokesman. "It's a transition that will take time, and we're making good progress on that." As for accidents, "despite our best efforts, accidents can and do happen."

Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld said accidents are a growing problem and wrote a memo May 19 demanding a 50% cut in "mishaps" worldwide within two years. "World-class organizations do not tolerate preventable accidents," he wrote.

Large numbers of U.S. troops will probably be in Iraq for at least a year. As military units rotate home, others will take their place in the danger zone. And more families back home will worry about their soldier, Marine, sailor or airman who may be in harm's way.

"Do I think the war is over? No. I think it's an ongoing struggle that we will have to deal with for years," says Vivian LaMont of Eureka, Calif., who buried her son Saturday. Capt. Andrew LaMont, 31, was one of four Marines killed May 19 when their helicopter snagged power lines and crashed into a canal near Hillah. A fifth Marine drowned when he dived into the canal to try to rescue the crew.

The televised images of President Bush landing on the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln on May 1 struck a note of triumph. In a speech from the deck, Bush declared an end to major combat operations. Many military families had the impression of a conclusive end to the war, only to be shattered by the loss of a loved one in the unsettled aftermath in Iraq.

"I thought the war was over," says Candice Benavides, 18, of San Diego, Texas. Her cousin, Army medic Amancio Perez III, 22, was killed in an ambush May 28. "I would never have expected casualties among U.S. soldiers."

Despite her family's loss, Benavides says "getting rid of these little pockets of hostility" is worth pursuing in Iraq. "There is a cost," she says. "But there is a job to be done, so let's do it."

'Didn't have to happen'

At Eglin Air Force Base in Florida, Michelle Griffin says she is proud of her husband but is angry about his death on May 13. Staff Sgt. Patrick Griffin Jr., 31, a data systems technician, was in a convoy carrying air-traffic-control equipment from Kuwait to Baghdad when he was killed by a sniper's bullet.

Griffin was sent to the Persian Gulf after Bush declared that combat essentially was over. That had comforted his wife and his father but not him. He had told his wife: "It's still going on. People don't like us over there, and (U.S. troops) are going to die."

"It didn't have to happen," Michelle Griffin says. "It shouldn't have happened. And it makes me angry that they're saying the war is over, because it's not. People are still dying."

On May 18, Army Lt. Col. Dominic Rocco Baragona, 42, was in a convoy heading for Kuwait City to load his battalion's gear on ships. Then the soldiers were to fly home to Fort Sill in Oklahoma.

Baragona found time to e-mail his father, Dominic, in St. George Island, Fla. "Dad, a couple of bullets whizzed by our heads, but we're now 60 miles south of Baghdad and we're home free," he wrote. Minutes later in a conversation by satellite phone, he confirmed to his father that he was USA-bound. "So I asked him, 'Rock, what's the worst thing that can happen now?' " his father says. "And he said, 'Dad, something stupid can happen.' "

The next day, near Safwan, a tractor-trailer in the convoy jackknifed and smashed Baragona's Humvee. He became the highest-ranking U.S. officer to die in Iraq.

"For me to fix blame, it wouldn't be fair," his father says. "The only thing I'd kind of like to say is that ... I hope all these things they're lookin' for, these weapons of mass destruction and other things, I hope they find them. ... Then I will feel in my heart that the ultimate sacrifice that he made has some kind of justification."

Many of the soldiers in Fallujah, 32 miles west of Baghdad, said their redeployment here was not how they wanted to end their time in Iraq. The city has been the scene of almost daily clashes between American troops and Saddam loyalists since U.S. forces killed at least 15 demonstrators and wounded 78 others in two confrontations in April.

"After the war, we thought we'd be going home," says Staff Sgt. Joseph Shell, 31, of Pascagoula, Miss. "It's hard to convert from war to peacekeeping. This is more dangerous even than Desert Storm. You don't know who the enemy is. They pop up everywhere."

"It's constant, endless, and you always have to watch your back," says Staff Sgt. Ian Murray, 28, of Torrance, Calif. "We're not going to hesitate to pull the trigger."

Last week in Baghdad, several soldiers of the Army's 3rd Infantry Division were saying they didn't fear their new assignment in Fallujah. The lawlessness here can't match the fierce fighting around Saddam's palaces in Baghdad. And some consider it an honor that their 2nd Brigade, with 4,000 soldiers, was chosen for the task.

"It makes you sad but proud, because you know you're the best, and that's why they're calling upon you," says Spc. Kevin Hohrn, 21, of Batesville, Miss.

Even so, the brigade already has been in the Persian Gulf region six months. Extending their stint at least two months in Fallujah is eating at the morale of many soldiers. "It's hell," Hohrn says. "You had your goal set — going home — and then you get slapped in the face and told to stay."

Hohrn's sister, Denetia Wells, 26, of Marks, Miss., says her brother called home recently. "He said he was mentally and emotionally drained." The family is apprehensive. "The worst is over, as they say, but you still have bullets flying, and you don't know where they're coming from," Wells says.

Plans put on hold

The brigade's long deployment has led to dozens of delayed engagements, missed births and broken marriages. "Guys who had a rocky marriage before, it's worse now," says Staff Sgt. Gordon Baker, 26, of Tannersville, Pa. That may be why many soldiers beg international aid workers and journalists to use their satellite phones. Some vent their frustrations to the folks at home. Others reassure relatives they'll be home soon.

Medic Luis Sanchez, 24, of Austin has been keeping his worries about Fallujah from his fiancée, Keri Nettle, 23. He says he frets that he may have to treat soldiers for possible heat exhaustion in the 100-degree temperatures. And he worries about complacency. "We went through the heavy stuff," he says. "Now we're going to a small town to man checkpoints, do security and house-to-house searches to weed out bad guys. If you're not on top of things, you can get hurt."

Nettle, back in Austin, says: "I don't know anything about this new town where they're going. He just told me that they're going there to help the guys who are already there get the job done." She says her spirits have soared and dipped with the changing conditions. "It was a relief when it was finally over, and it was just a peacekeeping mission, and the Iraqis were happy that we were there. But then that changed, and we got word they had another mission. And there are still casualties."

Perhaps soldiers with young children feel the pain of separation the most. Hohrn has a 6-month-old son, Mikkel. Baker says he was supposed to be home by now, watching Spongebob Squarepants on TV with daughter Lillith, 4. Maj. Mark Rasins, 39, of Dallas, had planned to be at Walt Disney World with his sons Rick, 9, and Ryan, 6.

The delayed reunion has been especially tough for 6-year-old Skylar Munds, the son of Sgt. Jeremy Munds, 30, of Anchorage. "My son was all gung-ho about the Army," the artillery gunner says. "But when I left he said, 'Dad, the Army sucks.' Now, every time he sees a uniform on TV, he cries because I'm not there anymore. So my wife doesn't watch the news anymore."

His wife, Tara Munds, 28, says she is almost as impatient as her son to have her husband home again. "It would be kind of selfish of me to say, 'Send my husband home, he's already fought in the war,' so that other wives can go through what I'm going through," she says.

Baker's wife, Deniece Baker, 27, says: "As military spouses, we know our husbands have responsibilities. They are professionals doing their jobs. They are not only protecting the nation but also their families."

Rasins says his brigade is still shaken by the death of Capt. Ed Korn, 31, of Savannah, Ga., in a friendly-fire incident April 4. Korn's death has helped put a lot of griping about Fallujah in perspective, he says. "I cringe at the thought of Ed Korn's mother hearing one of our wives complaining."

Susan Rasins, 36, of Richmond Hill, Ga., echoes her husband's don't-complain sentiment: "I wonder how it must sound to someone who's lost someone. Yes, we are nervous and a little on edge that things are not a little bit quieter over there. There's not a thing we can do to change it."

Contributing: Kelley and Strauss reported from Fallujah and Baghdad; Kasindorf from Los Angeles. Contributing: Valerie Alvord from San Diego.