Allen, who drove mostly in southern Iraq, said his convoy was attacked on at least five out of every six runs.
"They did warn us. You'd take rocks. IEDs were the biggest concern of all," he said, using the initials for improvised explosive device, the military jargon for a roadside bomb. "There were things like small-arms fire, wild bullets. One of the scariest nights was when the military stopped the convoy and we sat in the dark for two hours."
Allen Petty, who spent four months in Iraq as a driver for KBR, with his daughter Katy, 10 months, back home in Burnet, Tex., in October. Petty hoped to earn enough for a house but said the pay was less than he had expected.
(Photos Michael Stravato For The Washington Post)
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After Allen returned home, Sylvia said she knew he was hiding his fear from her. But at least "he knows where the enemy is," she said. "For me, the fear is everywhere. That fear of the unknown has to be the worst feeling in the world."
By August, as kidnappings of foreigners escalated and after his pay had fallen, Allen started to pray harder about whether he should stay. "I didn't tell my family it was getting so bad," he said. "But I talked to God, and he told me it was time to come home."
Sylvia said the children were initially excited when they heard their father was coming home. But soon, she said, the meaning of it sank in.
"The kids are just so heartbroken," Sylvia said. "Naomi, she is really super-smart. Over breakfast, when she found out, she said: 'It's over, isn't it? We're not going to get our house. What are we doing wrong?' "
Broken Dreams
It was late September, and the air was just starting to turn crisp. As her husband sat in an overstuffed chair and turned his head toward the window, Sylvia twisted her hands in the fold of her shirt, hiding the fingernails she had clipped the night before. While Allen was away in Iraq, she had her nails manicured for the first time since they were married.
Her husband went to Iraq with hopes of earning money for a house, but Sylvia had smaller dreams. She wanted her refrigerator to be full, her girls to have blankets on their beds, her rotting teeth to be fixed. She wanted to be able to afford to take 2-year-old Lydia to the doctor for a persistent ear infection. She wanted to look nice for her husband.
The night before, she and Allen had argued. They both were frustrated, uncertain about what lay ahead.
Sylvia was thinking about starting a home jewelry business. Allen offered to get a job at McDonald's. "I said, 'I can't see you in a silly hat flipping burgers,' " Sylvia recalled.
Allen said he was considering going back to work overseas, but only if he could be gone for 30 days at a time -- and not be in a war zone. He recently had read about job opportunities with UNICEF, he said.
The family now lives on about $80 a week in child support that Sylvia's former husband sends for the older children. "I know it's not right," Sylvia said, "but we don't know what else to do."
Sylvia wants her husband to understand what it was like to be left, to care for the children alone, to manage their dreams, to watch it all disappear.
"I knew it was over when the water hose broke," she said. "The neighbors saw the flowers outside dying. The water hose breaks, and you can't get a new one. We're back to barely making it."
