Wounds That Don't Bleed

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Although that kind of support is resisted by many in the military who fear being stigmatized, it is gaining acceptance amid the tribulations of service in Iraq. Lieut. Troy Fiesel, a social worker with the 785th outfit, says the response has been "more than I expected. There have been guys I thought would never in 100 years, say, 'Hey, I need help.' We're seeing guys like this all the time."

Troops who don't use official services must find their own coping mechanisms, often within their unit. Leaders try to find downtime for their men, and memorial services for the fallen can help with grieving. But clinically speaking, Nash says, most soldiers and Marines engage in denial and dissociation to get through. "Everybody out here is putting all this stuff in a closet and storing it up," he says, "because you just can't deal with it right now."

Sergeant Harding agrees. "You can't dwell on it, or you can't do what you need to do," he said shortly after his unit returned from another firefight in town. Troops say the thing that most helps the traumatized is their commitment to one another. Their unit is the only thing they can trust, and helping one another get home safely is the most compelling motivation they have. A twice-wounded Whiskey Company Marine suffered two concussions in successive bombings and was told that a third could lead to severe, lasting damage. But when given the option of going home, he chose to stay because, he says, "these are my brothers. I feel safer with them than I do anywhere else. I need to be with them." As the Marine who served in al-Anbar earlier this year puts it, "All of the bigger issues don't exist. You understand, ultimately, that the mission is about protecting each other."

Whiskey Company faces that stress every day as it patrols the unsettled Sunni triangle. Last Monday, Rapicault and two other men in Whiskey Company died when a suicide bomber rammed their humvee while they were on patrol, raising to nine the number of Whiskey Company Marines killed in action since mid-September. "I'm taking it very hard," says medic Cory McFarland. "But their loss gives us more strength to move on." For many combatants in Iraq, that may be more a wish than a fact.