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TwitThisA Family Goes to War
On May 19, he and his unit got a tip that car thieves were running a chop shop out of a certain nondescript building. When Nicholas and others arrived, the place was all locked up, so the Americans shot two locks off the doors. After that, everything happened fast. "We shot through the door, they shot back through the door, my sergeant said, 'Is anybody hit?' and I looked at my leg and it was bleeding." Another soldier was hurt too. But then the men who had been shooting from inside the building came around from the back and said they had only fired because they had thought someone was breaking in. The Americans took their weapons and released them. Nicholas never did find out if the original tip had been correct.His injury turned out to be minor -- easier to handle than the everyday deprivations. The heat was unrelenting, and what he wanted more than anything was a drink of cold water, or maybe some ice that didn't have E. coli in it. He also found himself missing silly things, like "The Simpsons," and he thought often of his father's Fettuccine Alfredo.
When friends ask about his experiences now, he usually makes jokes, not knowing what else to say. "We're going to be there quite a while, for years probably," he says. And in the future, he figures, fewer kids will be signing up the way he did, no matter what the financial incentives. He insists he would go back, though.
That night in Wethersfield, 65 of his father's friends, all of them Italian born, gather at a neighborhood restaurant, Casa Mia, to celebrate Nicky and their pride in him. After the antipasto, the fried squid and the tripe soup, when it seems the meal might be winding down, they bring out enormous steaks, followed by a ricotta and chocolate cake in the shape of an American flag. Nicholas is in uniform, showing his Purple Heart around and bashfully standing for just a few words: "Thanks for the support. Go Army!"
But even on that happy occasion, his family isn't forgetting the dangers behind Nicky or those still ahead. Until he got back from Iraq, "the worst part was hearing every day that another American soldier got killed," says his uncle, Roberto Cicero. "You don't hear the name, so it's always your kid." Nicholas's father, who had been smiling all night, is wistful as the evening comes to a close. "He's still a kid. We go upstairs and he has stuffed animals. Nicky never had any fear. Hopefully he will get some."
Maybe, but perhaps not right away. Two days after the dinner, Nicholas will be on a plane for Fort Stewart, Ga., where he'll train for his next mission -- in Kosovo.
A Family Goes to War
Julie Kennon is a Stanford-educated radiologist in Nashville, married to an attorney and mother to three precocious kids: Isabel, 6, Will, 5, and Cole, 3. But last spring and summer, Julie's home was not her ranch house on a quiet wooded lot, but a tent in the Saudi Arabian desert. A pilot in the Air National Guard, she was flying C-130s loaded with supplies and heavy equipment into Baghdad.
While she was away, her husband, Jerry, made do by bringing their three kids to work -- at the Louisiana air base where, as a fellow Air National Guard pilot, he had been temporarily assigned.
It's far from the lives the two were leading a dozen years ago, when they first met at pilot training. Like most of the 1.2 million who serve in either the National Guard or reserve forces, Julie and Jerry figured their obligation wouldn't seriously disrupt their civilian lives. Instead, they've been activated for the better part of the last two years. And though the Kennons are not complaining, their families, careers and finances have taken a huge hit.
Since the September 11 attacks, both have served on one classified mission after another -- lately, in operations overseas related to Iraq. In fact, shortly after Julie returned from her five months in Iraq, Jerry was off to Morón Air Base outside Seville, Spain, where he coordinated the flow of supplies into Iraq. For many months now, the Kennon children have rarely had both parents at home together with them. When asked whether the kids have suffered from their absences, Julie demurs while Jerry insists they're fine. "They're veterans," he says.
Julie does worry about her medical practice, where her partners have had to take over most of her weekend hours. Meanwhile, Jerry has his own work dilemma. "I've had to turn away 80 percent of my clients," he says. "When this is over, I'm going to have to build my law practice all over again." But he shrugs off any worries. "I wouldn't trade what I'm doing for the world."
Julie also feels the National Guard duty has been worth the sacrifices. "In the end, you just suck it up," she says. That's not always so easy to do. During Julie's tour in Iraq, Cole was just learning to talk. Whenever she got him on the phone, he would say, "Where are you, Mommy? Is it nighttime there?''
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