For 'Surge' Troops, Pride Mingles With Doubt

"No one got sleep in four days," said Murrani, the interpreter. "I smoked 6 1/2 packs of cigarettes in one day."

Relatives of the dead soldiers were notified a few hours after the bombing. Two of their wives had given birth while their husbands were in Iraq.

Julian had made it home on Christmas Eve to meet his two-week-old firstborn, Elizabeth. "He was so excited," said his widow, Erin, in a phone interview. "I didn't see my daughter unless she had to be changed or fed while he was home."

She said returning to Iraq broke his heart.

"There's only been two times I've seen him cry," she said. "When he left home that day, he cried all the way to the airport terminal."

Angela Suzch said her husband hated missing out on his daughter's first few months. But he felt strongly about the work he was doing in Iraq. "His soldiers were his life," she said. "The military was his life."

Cimarrusti, the youngest of eight children, immigrated to the United States from Mexico when he was 12. He played football in high school and became a disc jockey. In 2001, he joined the Army.

"From the time he was a child, he always played soldier," said Victor Verdugo, his older brother. "He always said he would be a soldier."

'Could All Be for Naught'

Wilhite's men struggled to keep their anger and grief in check after the attack. "We don't let people get as close as we used to," said Spec. Jesse Owens, 20, of Woodbridge, during an interview in April.

"It took every ounce that I had not to lose my cool with people," Leisz said.

During a market patrol that month, Staff Sgt. Anthony S. Orosz, 36, chatted with business owners and gave them cards with the outpost's tip line. Most merchants were polite but reserved.

Orosz described their general attitude toward U.S. soldiers: "Please don't stand in front of my shop for too long."