When the reservists of Bravo Company of the 1st Battalion of the 23rd Marine Regiment based in Houston got the call, most expected an uneventful tour in Iraq. The marines, drawn mostly from Louisiana and Texas, had anticipated pulling only security duty.

"We figured we wouldn't do much because we were reservists,'' said Staff Sgt. Jesse Noriega, a policeman from San Antonio, Texas. "We've been in the middle of it ever since."

Six months later, the Bravo Company infantrymen are as battle-worn and "salty" as any US unit. They've seen Iraq's dangerous Anbar province. They've fought in Fallujah and Ramadi and worked at the sharp end of the spear in America's most sustained urban combat since Vietnam. They're among the tens of thousands of reservists who have fought in Iraq, a consequence of the country's insurgency and an active-duty military understaffed for long-term occupation. In the process they've become the epitome of the "citizen soldier."

Typically older than active-duty marines and soldiers, they left behind families and civilian jobs to brave Iraq's deserts. At least a dozen in the company no longer had commitments to the Marines and volunteered to go.

Sgt. Brian Heisinger from Aurora, Colo., finished four years as an active-duty marine about four months before Bravo Company was deployed. In debt and working as a security guard, when he heard the unit was going he talked his way back in.

Cpl. Sean McKamie, a father of three from Texarkana, Texas, says his proudest moment in Iraq came after attending a Roman Catholic mass at the Al Asad airbase. When the priest found out what unit Corporal McKamie was from he said, "Oh, you're those reservists that fight."

On Bravo company's last major operation in late February and early March before heading home back to the US, they retook the city of Hit in Anbar Province from insurgents. They faced fierce resistance on their first entry to the city last October, but this time they encountered little resistance. That meant the marines could get some downtime on the roofs of Iraqi homes they stayed in, staring out at the Euphrates and reflecting on their experience.

Many in Bravo said they once foresaw a successful outcome in Iraq. But after six months of hard fighting, in which they saw towns overrun by insurgents and a flaccid response by Iraqi units, most are not optimistic. "I just hope that all that we risked here, the people who have died'' wasn't for nothing, says Sgt. Bob Grandfield, who lives in Boston. "But I'm not leaving with a lot of optimism."

Like almost every man in the company, Cpl. Daniel Benn of Houston has had clear reminders of the fragility of life. Fighting in Fallujah in November - when Bravo helped take a bridge where the bodies of two security contractors working for Blackwater Security Consulting of North Carolina were hung last April - Corporal Benn's platoon was ambushed. A piece of shrapnel buried itself in a spare rifle cartridge on his flak jacket. Bravo has been fortunate - with none of its 250-odd marines killed during their deployment.

"Definitely I see things differently," Ben says. "Being well off is still important to me, having all the things that I want to have, but not at the expense of not seeing my folks every few months just because I'm too tired to drive two and a half hours north."

Though the marines don't allow themselves to show much fear, such brushes with death have left their mark on all of them. To ease the pressure, the marines spend afternoons bantering and burning off nervous energy - throwing Frisbees or playing with hacky sacks. They tell jokes and laugh about near misses: About Sergeant Burlingame, the gunner on top of a humvee hit by a roadside bomb, for example. Unconscious on a stretcher, a chaplain started to administer last rites as Burlingame came awake and shouted "I'm not dead yet." He was back in the field a few days later.

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