The other battle: coming home

Once back home, soldiers remain on duty at the base for two to three weeks - partly as a "safety mechanism" as they adjust to a less regimented environment. During this time, they undergo physical and mental-health checks and attend "couples reintegration classes." Then, after two weeks of block leave, they return to work for more mental-health evaluations and stress-management classes.

Staff Sgt. John Dragoo is mostly mum about his wartime experiences as he files through a clinic signing papers and seeing health workers. A doctor asks him about his work clearing charred Iraqi vehicles, and explains possible exposure to depleted uranium. Sergeant Dragoo appears morose for a reason increasingly common to deployed soldiers: His wife, Sgt. 1st Class Andrea Dragoo, is still in the war zone.

"I won't really be able to enjoy things until she's home," he says, sunburned from a weekend building a deck to "keep busy."

Like the Dragoos, the growing number of dual-military couples - now more than 5 percent of the armed services - face distinct problems and advantages in deployments. Separations can be even longer, and providing for children, such as the Dragoos' 7-year-old daughter, Amanda, is challenging with both parents overseas. Still, shared experiences help the couples relate to one another. "It's always easier being married to a military spouse, because they understand what you have to do," Dragoo says.

Teams of social workers will revisit Dragoo and other returning soldiers after six weeks, 10 weeks, and four months. "We ask soldiers to go to war. Then we ask them to come back and push a button and be loving husbands and fathers again. It doesn't work that way," says Ms. Wilder. One reason for the aggressive counseling is concern that soldiers will avoid bringing up problems for fear of jeopardizing their careers in today's more professional and competitive Army.

"All of these [problems] have enormous stigma associated with them," says Dr. Engel of the deployment health center. "Some folks feel terribly threatened by going through these evaluations. They feel it's a tremendous invasion of their privacy, with implications for their future in the military."

At Fort Stewart, some soldiers decline counseling, while others, such as Sergeant Gilmartin, welcome it. "It's all right to feel depressed or anxious or unable to sleep," he says. Gilmartin has already sought help from an Army chaplain, and encourages his soldiers to do the same.

Many are. Chaplain Mauck says that often the soldiers who come to him have undergone a spiritual awakening in the war zone, strengthening their inner resources for dealing with problems.

"They've asked the tough questions," he says. "And not surprisingly, they have the answers."

It was after midnight on June 3. In a heavy cloudburst, a formation of 3rd Infantry Division artillerymen marched from the parade stand across Fort Stewart's soggy Cotrell Field belting out the division's "Dog-faced soldier" song played by an Army band.

As the soldiers drew near the hundreds of cheering families clustered on one side of the field, children began leaping up and down. Wives, some wearing prom dresses and stiletto heels, screamed and dashed into the muddy downpour. Seconds later, the troops and loved ones converged in a drenched mass of hugs, squeals, and tears.

For young troops and their wives, separated by war for the first time, the homecoming was a moment of pure fantasy and overbrimming expectations. Yet beyond the lipstick banners and yellow ribbons, the parades and high-heeled embraces, couples must often struggle to reconnect and rebuild their lives together after long, hard separations. For many, a return to normalcy proves elusive.

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