Iraq war veterans receive guidance for a higher education

Her work at Walter Reed and at the nearby Bethesda naval hospital is Bernard's way of giving back to men and women who have served. "They've paid a massive price, and we really have an obligation to do whatever we can to try to set their lives in a direction where they'll be able to have something of what they've lost," she says. It also helps her channel maternal energies: Her son is on his second tour in Iraq.

Bernard reassures soldiers who are worried about how they'll cope with academics after their heads have been rattled in IED attacks. She also works with admissions officers to move the process along faster, rather than having veterans wait a long time for a reply. "They've been disappointed so many times, and they are so [concerned] that this is not going to work ... which is just silly," she says. "All of the soldiers who've gone back have done magnificently, and kind of giggled to me and said, 'This wasn't hard at all.' "

Jeff Stevens, the ACE counselor at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, confronts wounded veterans who say all they want to do is go back into battle. He helps them face the truth that it's not possible. Even with those who may be able to stay in the military, he preaches the value of a college degree.

Brooke is known for burn treatments, which can take two or three years. "Online universities have filled a void," Mr. Stevens says, helping vets feel productive during time between surgeries.

Stevens also helps connect spouses with educational opportunities. Wives and husbands sometimes have to relocate to help a vet recover, and "nobody's there to pick up the pieces," he says.

Whether their paths lead them to a public university with 40,000 students or a private one with 4,000, Marine veteran Brendan Hart wants to be sure their needs are taken into account in everything from the admissions process to housing.

He's seen both sides of college life since he had to leave his counterterrorism security unit in the spring of 2005. Despite a vaccination that left him in a frail physical condition, he insisted on deploying to Iraq with the men he had trained. He couldn't stay long, however, and ended up spending 17 months at Walter Reed. Mr. Hart's injuries aren't visible, but he spent some time at Dartmouth on crutches. Now he says he's allowed to walk on his own if he can "deal with the pain."

Before he met Wright and transferred to Dartmouth, Hart had enrolled at the University of Maryland and had been advocating for veterans at the massive campus. Now he consults with other schools interested in the network of support he helped set up there.

"Because we're so underrepresented in higher education, we are almost a novelty," he says, "and just bridging the gap between the military and academia can go a long way to opening the door to help veterans in their transition."

A history major, Hart helped found both the Dartmouth Undergraduate Veterans Association and the national Student Veterans of America (for more information, contact Brendan.J.Hart@dartmouth.edu). He wants college admissions officers to understand, for instance, that veterans shouldn't be judged on old high school transcripts and SAT scores when they have gained valuable life experience in a foreign country or a combat zone.

He says he's been welcomed at Dartmouth and hopes he can make unique contributions to discussions. At a campus World Affairs Council meeting, the topic of anthropologists embedded with the military came up. He brought the perspective of "what [it] would mean to the combat effectiveness of a military unit. I think that was eye-opening for a lot of individuals," he says.

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