Welcome to Iraq, and a long separation

That same month, another brigade soldier was NOT present for a major milestone in life: his wedding.

Spec. Seth Goehring was in Iraq, but he had signed papers so his mother, Julie, could stand in for him at a proxy ceremony.

He and Alicia Dowling had been high school sweethearts and had planned a Lutheran church wedding and big VFW hall reception for 2007. But before he went to war, they changed their minds.

Instead, on May 26, 2006, Alicia — accompanied by her mother and future mother-in-law — headed to Montana, a state that allows proxy weddings. The bride and groom would be more than 6,500 miles apart.

Alicia wore her gray "Proud to be An Army Fiancee" sweatshirt and jeans; the strapless satin dress with a beaded train she had bought at a bridal shop trunk show remained in her closet. Alicia wanted to be comfortable for the 5 1/2-hour ride to Glendive, Mont.; also she was pregnant.

"I, Seth, take thee ..."

When Julie Goehring, representing her son before a justice of the peace, solemnly recited the vows and then gave Alicia a peck on the cheek, the bride giggled. Her mother's stern look reminded her this was serious stuff, no matter how surreal.

Someday, she thought, this would be a great story for the children.

BBQ therapy
Alicia, like many others, joined a support group while her husband was away. The spouses got together to swap stories and lean on each other.

Mandy Gazelka did the same back home outside Bemidji, Minn.

On Sunday afternoons during the summer of 2006, she hosted a weekly barbecue in her back yard for the wives and children of soldiers. She provided the meat for the grilling, her guests brought the trimmings. It was like group therapy, she joked.

Mandy filled the emptiness in the house with a new companion, a Pomeranian poodle named Vinny, rescued from a puppy mill. She e-mailed Dathan a photo of the scrawny dog.

He was not impressed. A dog's not a dog, he believed, unless it's bigger than a squirrel.

Now Sam, his Golden retriever-Labrador mix — there was a dog. And Sam patrolled the homestead now, with his master away.

One day, Sam sounded the alarm, barking furiously. Something was outside. Mandy grabbed a .38-caliber handgun she kept on the bedstand for protection and opened the door.

A porcupine had attacked Sam, then scrambled up a tree.

Mandy dispatched the critter with .38 slugs. Eleven of them.

Mandy poured herself into her job as a real estate agent, even doing some business with clients in Iraq. Dathan and the other soldiers sometimes talked houses during their down time. And when someone was in the market, Mandy sent photos online, and if need be, drove girlfriends or parents to look at the places. She sealed four deals.

These things happen
But her workload didn't take her mind off the dangers of Iraq. And her fears intensified with the news that came on June 22, 2006.

Dathan's Humvee was following his brother Daniel's truck as they inched along the top of a canal road trying to intercept insurgents smuggling IEDs out of Ramadi.

In a flash, Daniel's Humvee exploded. The deafening blast lifted the front of the vehicle like a kid's bike doing a wheelie.

Dathan reached to open his door and rescue his brother. But his training kicked in.

That would be crazy. Snipers might be waiting. Or someone might be out there waiting with a remote control to set off another bomb.

His Humvee backed up to give a better view of the area, then edged closer once it seemed there was no threat. Apart from some hearing damage, everyone was OK, and Dathan could relax a bit — even pulling out his camera to shoot some souvenir photos for Daniel.

The bombed Humvee's crew crowded into other gun trucks and waited for a tow — and were jolted when a truck escorting the recovery team hit a second bomb, which blew the hood off but again caused no serious injuries.

When Dathan later called Mandy, he downplayed the incident. This is war, these things happen. He and Daniel were OK, he reported. He didn't want her to worry.

But she did. The pressures of work, being apart and the war were taking a toll.

By July, Mandy had severe headaches and back pains. She underwent a brain scan and other tests before a chiropractor treated her for what he said was a neck vertebra out of place.

She didn't want to alarm Dathan, and didn't even call him about it.

But it isn't easy keeping a secret from this war's electronic grapevine. Dathan found out through another soldier who had heard from his wife.

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