MIDLAND, N.C. - While generals and politicians debate strategy and funding for the Iraq war on Capitol Hill, the cost of the conflict is tallied in places
like this quiet subdivision, where Kelly Bridson each night listens to her 10-year-old son’s bedtime prayers for his stepfather’s safety: “The light of God
surrounds you. The love of God enfolds you. The power of God protects you. …”
Army Spc. Joe Bridson is stationed in the volatile city of Samarra, Iraq, about 80 miles north of Baghdad. The prayers could well be goodnight hugs if not for
the vagaries of military service in the era of the volunteer army: Joe Bridson is now in the 14th month of what originally was to have been a four- to six-month
deployment in Iraq. Bridson’s situation is hardly unique. Scores of readers of msnbc.com’s Gut Check America project wrote of loved ones in similar situations,
either repeatedly deployed to the combat zone or languishing there months after their deployments were to have ended.
Their stories put a human face on stark statistics showing that the U.S. military — a small force by historical standards — is stretched thin after more than four years
in Iraq and six in Afghanistan. Repeated deployments of active military members and reservists and diminishing “dwell times” between postings to the war zone have
taxed soldiers and taken a growing toll on the home front. “Families are truly exhausted,” says Patricia Barron, who runs youth programs for the National Military Families
Association. “They are starting to feel the stresses of separation more acutely.”
Kelly and Joe’s story is but one of thousands that illustrate how the lack of resolution plays out on a personal level.
Fears rise when the phone calls stop
Kelly waits anxiously for each phone call from her husband. They come almost daily and trigger fears of the worst kind when they don’t. That often means that someone in
his company has been injured or killed and the military has cut off phone access until the next of kin has been notified. That’s when Kelly starts looking out the window, fearing
the worst. “There have been times when we’ve gone seven, eight days,” says Kelly. “After 48 hours, you know it’s not yours. … And I know it sounds terrible, but then you think,
‘Thank God it’s not mine.’”
When the phone finally rings, Kelly sinks into the crimson-and-rust cushions of her sofa and listens as Joe describes his days on patrol. While it is a relief to hear his voice, their
conversations raise other concerns. Joe’s moods are unpredictable, ranging from tenderness to rage. “I never know who I’m going to get on the phone,” Kelly said. “He’s really
been in the thick of it. … He worries that he won’t be the same person when he gets back.”
The couple had been together about six months when Joe learned he would be deployed to Iraq in August 2006 with the rest of the 3rd Brigade of the 82nd Airborne Division,
based at Fort Bragg, N.C., as a machine-gunner for his squad in Charlie Company. It was a blow, though not entirely unexpected. And the separation seemed manageable. Kelly
had spent years as a single mom and built a successful career as an insurance agent.
They decided to get married when Joe was on a short leave in December, even though his deployment was coming to an end — or so they thought. Young Chase, Kelly’s son
from a previous marriage, was a beaming best man in the ceremony. “We knew it would be tough,” Kelly said.
‘The guessing ... makes you crazy'
But extensions of his unit’s tour of duty and the uncertainty of how long he would be in Iraq made it worse. “One month (extension) stretched into two, two months stretched
into three,” Kelly recalled. “… The unknowing, the guessing, that makes you crazy. It makes the soldiers crazy.”
The war has not slowed for the 150 soldiers of Charlie Company, who have conducted hundreds of missions over the past year trying to root out insurgents in Samarra, a city
of 200,000. Samarra has been hit by two major insurgent attacks in recent months. In June, a bomb destroyed the minarets of a sacred Shiite site, the Golden Dome mosque.
In August, dozens of gunmen raided the city’s police station, killing three people.
Eleven members of Charlie Company have been killed and 40, including Joe, have been awarded Purple Hearts for battle wounds. He was shot in the forearm last month but
was back out on patrol three days later. Kelly says he’s also suffered two concussions — one from an IED and another from a grenade blast. Still, what may have been the
worst moment of the war for Joe and Kelly came in April, when Secretary of Defense Robert Gates announced that U.S. Army tours would be extended from 12 months to 15.
Joe heard the news not from his commander, but by phone from Kelly. She said he couldn’t believe it would include his company. “His exact words were: ‘It better not be us.
I will f---ing lose it,’” recalled Kelly. “And I thought, ‘Oh my God, is something in his brain going to snap?’”
The strains of long immersion in life-and-death situations are familiar to anyone who has had loved ones serve in an armed conflict. But experts say the uncertainty and fear
felt by family members in this war are amplified by how few people are being called on, and to what extent.
