Iraq GIs, families count missed milestones

Seth Goehring had prepared for fatherhood, as best he could from a war zone.

He had monitored his wife's pregnancy with photos she had sent by e-mail, storing them chronologically in computer folders. The doctors even obliged by providing ultrasound images — with labels for the boy parts.

In another era, a father-to-be would have to wait weeks for letters and, if he was lucky, a snapshot or two. But Seth and Alicia were in constant, electronic contact. They mulled over possible names for their son. Alicia sent a list of possible of strong "cowboy" names before they settled on Kolton.

On a November afternoon, returning from patrol, Seth got the word from his platoon sergeant: The Red Cross had relayed the message that Alicia had gone to the hospital.

He quickly dialed the cell phone of his mother, who'd proxied for him at his wedding and now proxied for the delivery room doctor.

"Congratulations!" she declared. "You're a father."

Within hours, Seth had e-mail photos of his new son taken by Alicia, who held black-haired Kolton in her arms and snapped pictures with her cell phone.

'We've come to celebrate'
On Nov. 22, Col. David Elicerio turned 49 — and the commander of the 1st Brigade, along with a small group of his soldiers, journeyed to a remote spot in the desert for a special treat.

"My friend, this is for you," a local sheik named Ali told Elicerio, handing him the reins of a camel. "I understand this is your birthday. We've come to celebrate."

He also handed Elicerio an Arab headdress, a shawl, a robe — and a shotgun. Elicerio had confided to the sheik earlier that he loved the outdoors and hunting wild game. And so here they were, in the middle of a war, chasing wild rabbits. It all seemed unreal.

When they were done, a sheep in the back of one of the trucks was slaughtered, and there in the desert, Elicerio sat at a campfire, eating the roasted meat with flat bread, tomatoes and onions.

The year before, he had spent his birthday with his family, in Las Vegas.

A few days later, an Army convoy rolled up in a swirl of dust toward a concrete slab of a building on the edge of Qaryat al Majarrah, a village of squat yellow brick houses.

"Mister, mister!" some Iraqi kids yelled, following the truck. "What are you doing? Why are you here?"

Beanie Babies
The answer to their questions could be glimpsed in the vehicles, which looked like a movable flea market bearing piles of medical supplies, clothes, soccer balls and Beanie Babies.

Stepping from one truck was Dr. Joe Burns, a North Dakota emergency room doctor who had arrived weeks earlier for a six-month stint with the 1st Brigade Combat Team. He was in this village to join Iraqi Army personnel in a goodwill mission — a daylong health clinic.

Burns, a colonel, had been to war before, serving in Bosnia. But everything about Iraq was different, including his new home, a dusty metal storage container.

With his wire-frame glasses and rosy complexion, Burns was a man comfortable in his own skin. He had a healthy dose of Midwestern common sense and an unflappable manner.

He'd need it. His temporary clinic was a building with no heat, electricity or water. It was surrounded by a concertina wire perimeter unfurled by U.S. troops. Visitors were searched for weapons and explosives.

Burns shared his duty with an Iraqi doctor, a colonel who told him a harrowing story — his 11-year-old son was kidnapped near his school and released only in exchange for several thousand dollars.

MORE FROM MILITARY

Military Section Front

Lawmaker: Hasan linked to Pakistan U.S. Army: Troop morale falls in Afghanistan Gates to lead push against roadside bombs Obama honors veterans at Arlington cemetery Field Notes: Inside one of America's largest warships theGrio: In honoring vets, Obama contemplates future casualties theGrio: Black soldiers continue to fight for country and equality Military Section Front   Add Military headlines to your news reader: