DAY 18
October 21, 2006

Elizabeth Ray, from Redding California, started driving yesterday so she could meet us in Junction, Utah at 8 a.m. She introduced us to her new puppy and we started walking. She’s waiting for her kids to think up a name for the dog, but was going to suggest Pax Peacewalker (kind of like Luke Skywalker).

Steve and Cathy Peterson from Spring City caught up with us about a mile down the road. Then my parents, Kristen and Eliza all joined us just outside of Circleville. It was another amazing experience where people seemed to blossom out of the desert.

My mother was driving the support car and she and Eliza stopped by a Vietnam War Memorial to wait for us. Eliza went up to a bronze statue of a soldier and said, “Daddy.”

A Vietnam War vet from Las Vegas was traveling with his wife and had stopped at the memorial as well. My mom told him what I was doing and he joined in the walk for about a mile. He said he belongs to a posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) group in Las Vegas. He said they already have a few Iraqi vets joining them on a regular basis.

We passed through Butch Cassidy country. He’s the Mormon’s favorite criminal. We even ate at the Butch Cassidy Café, where Steve picked up the check just before he went back to Spring City. There’s something about those Spring City folk, they’ll never let you pick up a check. On our way out of town, we looked for Butch Cassidy’s house, which is supposed to be by the road. We saw several that might fit the bill, but we’re claiming that we saw it for sure, just for bragging rights.

My dad treated us all to dinner in Panguitch. Our waitress’ son just got back from Iraq a few months ago. I was there while he was. She said it’s a hard transition and he’s not the same as he used to be. She didn’t have to tell me what was going on. Everybody seems to get some level of PTSD. Her son’s unit was in Ramadi and I’m sure he got a double helping.

The problem for the Reserves and National Guard soldiers is that they come back to a place where nobody understands what they’re going through. On active duty you go back to a military base where everybody had dealt or is dealing with PTSD. In the Guard you come back home where people don’t know why you’re panicking at night and flinching at loud noises. You don’t have a commander to make sure you’re OK and refer you to counseling if necessary. It’s a tough spot to be in.

The good news is that I’m hearing some hopeful things about Iraq. There are ruminations in the media about plans for withdrawal. As far as I’m concerned, it couldn’t happen a moment too soon.