A rocket-propelled grenade screeched by, just missing David Roan.
Over his head, sparks flew from a shot-up transformer. He quickly realized a fellow soldier was dangerously exposed, lying prone with a bulky machine gun. He dragged the soldier to the cover of a trash can.
It was late summer 2003, during street-to-street fighting in the Tigris River city of Samarra. Roan was a young infantry squad leader trying to survive in Iraq's Sunni Triangle -- a haven for insurgents.
He can recall many tense times during his year in Iraq. The experiences accumulated. He developed a common anxiety illness among returning soldiers, post-traumatic stress disorder.
Now 28, Roan has just moved to Wichita to establish himself as a general contractor. He is staying temporarily with Micah Frayne, one of the men who was under his command in Iraq.
Frayne, 24, also has been diagnosed with PTSD.
The two friends receive counseling from the VA.
They say they have learned to cope with PTSD and are moving ahead with life after Iraq.
Nearly four years after they experienced a war together, they and other members of their close-knit platoon stay in touch. They have become their own informal support group.
Sitting in Frayne's living room Thursday, Roan motioned to Frayne and said: "He comes back, this kid is not the same. None of us are."
Coming back from the war, Frayne interjected, "I had zero emotion."
As members of the 4th Infantry Division, 1st Battalion, 8th Infantry Regiment, based in Fort Carson, Colo., they arrived in Iraq in early April 2003. It was just days after the invasion.
Frayne had been determined to go, even though he had injured his knee. He went to Iraq wearing a leg brace.
From a camp at a former Iraqi air base south of Samarra, Roan and Frayne rode the same Bradley fighting vehicle.
In combat, when a Bradley's rear ramp goes down, six heavily armed infantrymen wearing body armor rush out to confront whatever threat lies before them. Time after time, Roan and Frayne went down the ramp with an us-vs.-the-world mentality.
Every day, they stalked door to door, city to city, looking for insurgents. They went on patrols. They ran checkpoints. They worked, Roan said, "in the middle of a city that is actively trying to kill you."
When one of their squad members squatted to defecate in the dust -- becoming a vulnerable target to the enemy -- a fellow soldier would stand guard over him.
They developed an aggressive, unsympathetic attitude toward Iraqis. "We knew we were not wanted," Roan said.
It wasn't just Samarra. They got the same reception in Tikrit and Fallujah.
At least three men -- out of about 90 infantrymen in their company -- died in Iraq in 2003 and 2004. During the time Roan was there, about 25 wounded soldiers in his unit received Purple Hearts.
A rocky return home
After seven months, Frayne's service in Iraq ended. On the flight back to Colorado, he cried -- something against an infantryman's code. He felt guilty for leaving his platoon behind.
His first months back, he drank abusively.
"I'd drink a bottle of vodka before I'd go out to the bar," he said. "I was drinking to cope."
He also enjoyed simple pleasures that civilians sometimes take for granted. Sometimes, he took three showers a day.
But certain triggers pulled his thoughts back to Iraq: the smell of diesel fuel or something burning, the sound of someone speaking Arabic.
He had a relative who'd served in another war, who had PTSD. "I knew what it was," he said.
About a year and a half ago, Frayne sought help from the VA in Wichita.
"The motivation for going to the VA was if I kept going down this road, I was going to die," he said.
Many returning soldiers are reluctant to seek help, said Jeremy Crosby, lead psychologist in the PTSD clinic at Wichita's Dole VA Medical Center.
"Usually people have to hit bottom or have a major life event before seeking treatment," he said.
Veterans often don't recognize they have PTSD, he said. PTSD sufferers tend to isolate themselves.
PTSD symptoms include depression and having suicidal thoughts; local VA officials said they couldn't release any information about whether any returning soldiers have committed suicide.
Feelings of being alone
For awhile, Frayne isolated himself.
Then he sought counseling. He receives individual counseling from the VA center in Wichita, which has encouraged him to join a group of other Iraq war veterans. He hasn't, he said, because "I feel weird" talking to someone outside his old platoon.
"Are these guys going to think I'm full of crap?" he asked.
The counseling has helped, he said. Part of his coping is tuning out the bad thoughts.
He stopped drinking abusively.
For now, life is pretty good for Frayne. He has been promoted to crew chief with Cessna. "I love my job," he said, "and that's my main focus."
He's engaged to be married.
Roan, who reached the rank of staff sergeant after serving seven years in the Army, returned to Colorado after about a year in Iraq. Like Frayne, he had bouts of heavy drinking. (About half of men with PTSD have problems with alcohol, the VA says.)
At home, Roan couldn't relax, couldn't sleep. If he heard a noise, he had to investigate. It was as if he was back on patrol.
"I have cleared my house probably 20, 30 times.
"It'll hit me in traffic. It'll hit me at home.... I'm still on point."
Roan also has received help from the VA for his PTSD.
Because of the stigma attached to mental illness, "some guys are afraid to seek help," Roan said.
He thinks his PTSD has kept him from getting jobs.
"You get weeded out, man," he says.
For the time being, he's feeling some sense of accomplishment by making things with his hands. He is working to build a business as a general contractor.
It helps his mind to stay busy. "Basically," he said, "I've got a never-ending supply of work."
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