Saying adieu hardest part

Robert Trahan, from the small town of Breaux Bridge in Louisiana, is in Kuwait today. In a week he will be in Baghdad.

This isn't the first time Trahan has been to Iraq - he was there during Desert Storm - but he hopes it will be the last.

"I've got 19 years and four months service," he said back in July, "and I'm hoping to return when all this over. Twice is enough."

Trahan is a combat medic in the 256 Battalion, a National Guard reservist unit based in St Martinville, just 20km from Breaux Bridge.

In April they were called up and sent off with a town parade. Yellow ribbons are still tied around the trees of this quiet bayou town where street names are in French and people like Trahan speak with a slow drawl.

In Cajun country politics rarely touch lives, but now the town is farewelling many like Trahan, off to a war and the drumbeat of the engagement which commands their news has started to hit home.

In the preceding two weeks two young men from nearby Lafayette were killed in Iraq.

"The streets were lined with people for the funerals and there were flags everywhere," Trahan says.

"In our company we are hoping for the best, obviously. We are about 75 people, all from the Lafayette, Breaux Bridge and the St Martinville area. A lot of these guys have been in the National Guard for years. A couple have been in for 10 or 15.

"At 42 I'm one of the oldest, but you've got some who joined because they wanted to go to college. They are still in a state of shock, they didn't think this call-up would ever happen.

"Then you've got people who are ... well, excited isn't the right word, but they are ready to go and thinking it is a big adventure. They just want to go and do their job."

Trahan grew up in Lafayette and, like some in his battalion, joined the reservists at 18 because he couldn't afford college. The military offered to pay tuition.

"As it turned out, me and school didn't agree but I enjoyed the military. I wanted to get into something where I could learn something and medical was the field which appealed."

He trained hard, became an officer working in medical logistics and went to the first Gulf War, arriving in Iraq just before the ceasefire.

"Operation Desert Storm turned into Operation Provide Comfort, which was the humanitarian mission to get the Kurdish people out of the mountains and get them settled."

Trahan worked with the United Nations and his voice quavers when he recalls what he saw.

"It involved me going to every miserable sad place, every refugee camp, and I saw ... No human being should ever have to live like that. These people had been through the gassings and were extremely happy to have us there at that time. And not real happy when we pulled out."

He was six months in northern Iraq, then worked in Texas for a couple of years before moving back to Louisiana, where he met and married Doreen. They have three children - 8-year-old son Tyler, and two teenagers (Dustin and Brittany) from Doreen's previous relationship.

Trahan left the Army "after 14 and half years non-stop". Now, when not on active duty, he works for an environmental company.

But after his unit was called up he has had training in pre-hospital trauma life support. Other members of his unit have been through combat training in mock-up villages in the California desert.

His training this time is different from Desert Storm. Back then he was ready to head into northern Iraq only three weeks after his unit was activated. This time they are well trained and equipped with the latest technology.

"It's snapped people into reality and made them focus on what's happening, and also make them feel good that they're going with the best equipment available."

When Trahan speaks of his training he is clear and precise, but when conversation turns to his family and a year in the war zone there is less certainty.

Doreen - who now has a bumper sticker reading "Half of my heart is in Iraq" - has told him not to volunteer for anything and to keep his head down.

He needs no encouragement. "When I was there for Desert Storm it was a big adventure and I didn't think I'd ever be in that part of the world, so I did some things I don't think I'd do today.

"My situation has changed. I was single and had no responsibilities or anybody to worry about during Desert Storm.

"But now I've got my son, my wife and my stepkids, who are 16 and 17. With my little boy it's really tough."

Training at Fort Hood meant the realisation of military life hit home to some of the younger guys.

"Outside the gates there is a town with anything you want but for control reasons they don't want anybody leaving and going off drinking. They want to get everybody ready to go.

"My partying days are behind me so it doesn't bother me, but a lot of these young guys feel like they are missing out on something.

"But morale is good, although the young guys would like to let off more steam than they are able."

Trahan reflects on how the older members of the unit - especially those who, like him, have seen active service - try to explain to the young guys that what they are seeing on television is very different from the reality of a combat zone. But he also believes this time things will be more comfortable than during Desert Storm.

Living on military bases for almost six months they saw little news - for the month of desert training in California they were quarantined - and in cellphone conversations with family, the wider world was rarely talked about.

In its way it was preparing them for the emotional dislocation of being in Iraq for a year, the need to depend on each other, and the unknown.

"You can live in a vacuum on a military base. You get the briefings in different countries about the places not to go. But as soon as you tell the guys where not to go that's the first place they are going to go, to see why they are not supposed to be there.

"One thing they've been stressing is accountability. You never go anywhere unaccompanied, even on the bases. They are getting mortar fire in bases in Iraq so you need to be able to account for your people right away. It's a lifestyle change for some people to tell someone where they are going at all times."

Trahan, like many Cajuns, is Catholic, politically conservative, and supports President Bush. But of the war in Iraq he is less certain. Something needed to be done about Saddam Hussein, he says, but he doesn't have a comment on the lack of weapons of mass destruction or the other imperatives advanced for the occupation.

What he is prepared for is a climate where improvised explosive devices, known as IEDs, are hidden beside the road. In a week he will be driving the long road from Kuwait to Baghdad where such weapons have been deployed.

He'll feel more secure when he reaches Camp Victory, 15 minutes from downtown Baghdad, which he says he would be happy not to leave for the next 12 months. But it is likely he will be off-base helping civilians in programmes such as medical screenings and immunisation.

"I've never really worked in the civilian sector [as a medic] but it's something I enjoy. Whether or not I pursue it when I get done with this adventure I don't know. My wife and I have talked about things and I'd kinda like to go back to school when I get back ... but we'll have to wait and see."

Trahan stops himself when he speaks of future plans. During his two weeks at home before flying to Kuwait he spoke noticeably more quietly, his sentences sometimes trailing off.

Tyler was hanging around him all the time, they were doing normal family things, there was soccer, and they went down to see his dad near Mobile, in Alabama. He and Doreen talked about other things.

"We try not to dwell on the possibilities. We're trying to plan a vacation when I get back. Tyler wants to go to Disneyworld, so we got on the internet to look up some different packages so we've got an idea of how much money to put away when I'm gone.

"They are saying between the fourth and eighth month there is an opportunity for some people to take leave, but not everyone.

"I don't know if I want to come home and go through another set of goodbyes. I don't know. When the time comes I'll have to make a decision.

"It's tough. I have an 8-year-old. He wants me home any time I can be, but how many times can I put him through telling me goodbye?"

Tyler cried himself to sleep the night his dad left. Today in Breaux Bridge there is a Mass to remember the soldiers. Tyler will take along a photo of his dad to put on the altar. It will stay there until he comes home.

"I dread leaving," said Trahan in those final days, "but at the same time we're ready to go. So let's get this thing going so we can get it over with."

* The Weekend Herald will be attempting to keep in contact with Robert Trahan during his period of service in Iraq.