Team Infidel
Forum Spin Doctor
New York Times
November 3, 2007 By Lisa W. Foderaro
FORT DRUM, N.Y., Nov. 2 — The last time Bobbi Plautz welcomed home her husband, Travis, from Iraq, he was a changed person. He listened to different kinds of music and craved different kinds of food. He stayed up all night and wrestled with nightmares.
“He came home and had a 5-month-old baby and was overwhelmed,” Mrs. Plautz said of her husband, a staff sergeant with the 10th Mountain Division. “But he slowly got back to being the guy I married: funny, playing practical jokes.”
As she waited in a gymnasium close to midnight with her son, Zander, now 3, and scores of other families bearing balloons and signs, Mrs. Plautz was preparing herself for another period of readjustment.
Hours earlier, the soldiers of the 10th Mountain Division’s Second Brigade had spilled off a jet at a nearby airfield, some bending down to kiss the ground, others whooping into the cold night air. But despite the joyous homecoming, the 120 soldiers who landed Thursday evening — a fraction of the 3,500 Second Brigade soldiers returning to this sprawling military base this fall — were about to take on a new and uncertain challenge: the return to normalcy.
Coming home from war is always fraught. But for these soldiers, it is all the more so because of the length of their deployment, which was extended midtour from one year to 15 months. For almost half the soldiers, it was at least their second tour, which meant some had missed the birth of a child or been apart from spouses for most of their young marriages.
As the soldiers stepped off the plane, they carried, along with their oversized packs and M-4 rifles, a good deal of emotional baggage: the division reported that 52 members of their brigade were killed on this tour; two are still missing. The extension of their tours was especially hard.
“That was pretty catastrophic for them,” said Maj. Gen. Michael Oates, the commander of the 10th Mountain Division, after greeting the men and women on the airfield.
Given the length of this tour — the Army deploys its members longer than any other military branch in Iraq — as well as the round-the-clock stress the troops endured, many family members were clearly on edge as they anticipated the soldiers’ return to domestic life.
Samantha Wilmet, 23, held her 9-month-old baby, Jasmine, clad in a pink shirt that read, “I’m here to pick up my Daddy,” and wondered how her husband’s first tour had affected him.
“I’m not sure what he went through,” Mrs. Wilmet said of her husband, Specialist David Wilmet. “My husband is a closed-mouth kind of guy. I know he’s had a hard time. I had plenty of friends say it’s going to change him, it’s going to change him. I wonder: Will it or won’t it?”
Experts on military culture say that despite the workshops and briefings the Army offers to ease the transition, longer tours pose special challenges for families, both in terms of the reintegration home and the potential for psychological trauma on the soldiers’ part.
“There’s a lot of research that shows that the longer the tours, the more difficult it is for both service members and their families,” said Dr. Mady W. Segal, a professor of sociology and associate director of the Center for Research on Military Organization at the University of Maryland. “Fifteen months is a really long deployment, especially when they’re having repeated deployments.”
Major General Oates agreed. “The spouse has been running the show for more than a year,” he said. “There’s always the potential for friction. The soldiers will also have some adjustments in terms of going from a 24-hour day with life-threatening situations and being here and not having to worry about I.E.D.’s and loud noises.”
Still, for both the soldiers and the families, it was a moment of celebration.
Before the soldiers could reunite with their families, they first had to go through customs and turn in their weapons. As they did, they talked of seizing long-delayed pleasures.
Among those who kissed the ground was Specialist A. J. Mettao. “It still feels surreal,” he said. “I can’t even explain it. The air is so different. You’re not breathing sand. I’m looking forward to living life and just partying.”
Chief Warrant Officer Harold Brickel couldn’t wait to see his wife, Lisa, with whom he spoke at least once a day from Iraq. He also wanted to “go hunting in the woods” and to celebrate the New Year in Las Vegas.
What Pfc. Maria Basulto, 23, from Whittier, Calif., most looked forward to was “getting out of the Army.”
“The hardest part was finding out at 10 months that we had to stay,” she said. “That was messed up.”
The spouses had their own visions of reunion — some prosaic, others profound — as a marching band warmed up in the gym. Top on Mrs. Wilmet’s list for her husband was “letting him get to know his daughter.” When Specialist Wilmet finally held Jasmine, who had listened to a recording of his voice dozens of times a day during his absence, he gave her a long kiss. “She’s so big,” he said.
Mrs. Plautz, whose son, Zander, asked where Daddy was every few minutes, said: “I just know that I’m not taking out the trash ever again. I have a full trash can right now because I knew he was coming home. I didn’t empty the bathroom trash, the bedroom trash — nothing. It’s all waiting for him.”
But even amid the humor and energy, there were somber reflections about how war changes people and relationships.
Specialist Matthew Gleason, returning from his second tour, said that as a gunner in the brigade commander’s personal security detachment, he was almost always “outside the wire,” meaning in unprotected areas. “The first time I went over, I was excited and wanted to do my job and make a difference,” he said between drags on a cigarette. “But that was before I saw how war really works. The only way to stay sane was to shut down emotionally.”
Specialist Gleason said he had lost good friends on both tours. He finds himself increasingly “desensitized” and worries about the effect on his wife of three years, Jamie.
“She complains about my being distant, even when I’m in the same room with her,” he said. “It’s a lot of work, especially for the married guys. I’m out in ’09. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t like the person I’ve become.”
Melissa Casebolt, who has been married to Staff Sgt. Andrew Casebolt for 11 years, watched their daughter, 6-year-old Nya, dart around the gymnasium floor with the other children before the midnight ceremony. After Sergeant Casebolt’s first tour in Iraq, “it was like he was a visitor in our domain,” she said, explaining that she had “taken care of everything” for so long.
This time, she said, she wants to cede control more quickly, but she also plans to tread lightly, unsure as she is of her husband’s mental state after such a long tour.
“In my head, I’m thinking that regardless of the things he says, he has a free pass for two months,” she said. “I want it to be as stress-free as possible. I don’t want to pressure him to do anything. I’m hoping that just by giving him space, I’ll be able to gauge what he needs.”
November 3, 2007 By Lisa W. Foderaro
FORT DRUM, N.Y., Nov. 2 — The last time Bobbi Plautz welcomed home her husband, Travis, from Iraq, he was a changed person. He listened to different kinds of music and craved different kinds of food. He stayed up all night and wrestled with nightmares.
“He came home and had a 5-month-old baby and was overwhelmed,” Mrs. Plautz said of her husband, a staff sergeant with the 10th Mountain Division. “But he slowly got back to being the guy I married: funny, playing practical jokes.”
As she waited in a gymnasium close to midnight with her son, Zander, now 3, and scores of other families bearing balloons and signs, Mrs. Plautz was preparing herself for another period of readjustment.
Hours earlier, the soldiers of the 10th Mountain Division’s Second Brigade had spilled off a jet at a nearby airfield, some bending down to kiss the ground, others whooping into the cold night air. But despite the joyous homecoming, the 120 soldiers who landed Thursday evening — a fraction of the 3,500 Second Brigade soldiers returning to this sprawling military base this fall — were about to take on a new and uncertain challenge: the return to normalcy.
Coming home from war is always fraught. But for these soldiers, it is all the more so because of the length of their deployment, which was extended midtour from one year to 15 months. For almost half the soldiers, it was at least their second tour, which meant some had missed the birth of a child or been apart from spouses for most of their young marriages.
As the soldiers stepped off the plane, they carried, along with their oversized packs and M-4 rifles, a good deal of emotional baggage: the division reported that 52 members of their brigade were killed on this tour; two are still missing. The extension of their tours was especially hard.
“That was pretty catastrophic for them,” said Maj. Gen. Michael Oates, the commander of the 10th Mountain Division, after greeting the men and women on the airfield.
Given the length of this tour — the Army deploys its members longer than any other military branch in Iraq — as well as the round-the-clock stress the troops endured, many family members were clearly on edge as they anticipated the soldiers’ return to domestic life.
Samantha Wilmet, 23, held her 9-month-old baby, Jasmine, clad in a pink shirt that read, “I’m here to pick up my Daddy,” and wondered how her husband’s first tour had affected him.
“I’m not sure what he went through,” Mrs. Wilmet said of her husband, Specialist David Wilmet. “My husband is a closed-mouth kind of guy. I know he’s had a hard time. I had plenty of friends say it’s going to change him, it’s going to change him. I wonder: Will it or won’t it?”
Experts on military culture say that despite the workshops and briefings the Army offers to ease the transition, longer tours pose special challenges for families, both in terms of the reintegration home and the potential for psychological trauma on the soldiers’ part.
“There’s a lot of research that shows that the longer the tours, the more difficult it is for both service members and their families,” said Dr. Mady W. Segal, a professor of sociology and associate director of the Center for Research on Military Organization at the University of Maryland. “Fifteen months is a really long deployment, especially when they’re having repeated deployments.”
Major General Oates agreed. “The spouse has been running the show for more than a year,” he said. “There’s always the potential for friction. The soldiers will also have some adjustments in terms of going from a 24-hour day with life-threatening situations and being here and not having to worry about I.E.D.’s and loud noises.”
Still, for both the soldiers and the families, it was a moment of celebration.
Before the soldiers could reunite with their families, they first had to go through customs and turn in their weapons. As they did, they talked of seizing long-delayed pleasures.
Among those who kissed the ground was Specialist A. J. Mettao. “It still feels surreal,” he said. “I can’t even explain it. The air is so different. You’re not breathing sand. I’m looking forward to living life and just partying.”
Chief Warrant Officer Harold Brickel couldn’t wait to see his wife, Lisa, with whom he spoke at least once a day from Iraq. He also wanted to “go hunting in the woods” and to celebrate the New Year in Las Vegas.
What Pfc. Maria Basulto, 23, from Whittier, Calif., most looked forward to was “getting out of the Army.”
“The hardest part was finding out at 10 months that we had to stay,” she said. “That was messed up.”
The spouses had their own visions of reunion — some prosaic, others profound — as a marching band warmed up in the gym. Top on Mrs. Wilmet’s list for her husband was “letting him get to know his daughter.” When Specialist Wilmet finally held Jasmine, who had listened to a recording of his voice dozens of times a day during his absence, he gave her a long kiss. “She’s so big,” he said.
Mrs. Plautz, whose son, Zander, asked where Daddy was every few minutes, said: “I just know that I’m not taking out the trash ever again. I have a full trash can right now because I knew he was coming home. I didn’t empty the bathroom trash, the bedroom trash — nothing. It’s all waiting for him.”
But even amid the humor and energy, there were somber reflections about how war changes people and relationships.
Specialist Matthew Gleason, returning from his second tour, said that as a gunner in the brigade commander’s personal security detachment, he was almost always “outside the wire,” meaning in unprotected areas. “The first time I went over, I was excited and wanted to do my job and make a difference,” he said between drags on a cigarette. “But that was before I saw how war really works. The only way to stay sane was to shut down emotionally.”
Specialist Gleason said he had lost good friends on both tours. He finds himself increasingly “desensitized” and worries about the effect on his wife of three years, Jamie.
“She complains about my being distant, even when I’m in the same room with her,” he said. “It’s a lot of work, especially for the married guys. I’m out in ’09. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t like the person I’ve become.”
Melissa Casebolt, who has been married to Staff Sgt. Andrew Casebolt for 11 years, watched their daughter, 6-year-old Nya, dart around the gymnasium floor with the other children before the midnight ceremony. After Sergeant Casebolt’s first tour in Iraq, “it was like he was a visitor in our domain,” she said, explaining that she had “taken care of everything” for so long.
This time, she said, she wants to cede control more quickly, but she also plans to tread lightly, unsure as she is of her husband’s mental state after such a long tour.
“In my head, I’m thinking that regardless of the things he says, he has a free pass for two months,” she said. “I want it to be as stress-free as possible. I don’t want to pressure him to do anything. I’m hoping that just by giving him space, I’ll be able to gauge what he needs.”