Pride, fear fill thoughts of loved ones facing war.

Byline: Scott Maben The Register-Guard

They watch and wait and pray for a quick end to a war that seems certain, for the safe return of their children and siblings and spouses.

Kristi Winn, who married a Marine the day after Christmas, writes her husband daily, searching for words to reassure him.

"I just encourage him to keep his head up and look to the Lord," the Springfield newlywed said.

Lance Cpl. Johan Winn, now in Kuwait, keeps one of his wife's senior photos in his wallet, another in his helmet. He took his New King James Bible along, too.

"He's ready to come home," Kristi Winn said. "They want to get it done." As international tensions mount and anti-war protests like Saturday's in Eugene gather more voices, local military families feel pride mixed with fear.

Some are haunted by the thought of a "notification detail" showing up on their doorsteps to deliver the worst possible news.

"That my son is maybe going to be shot, that scares me," said Veneta resident Judy Lyman, mother of a Marine in Kuwait. "I feel like I have to prepare myself for the worst. It drives me nuts. ... These are horrible thoughts I have."

"If I saw a gray car pull up in front of my house, I'd go completely numb," said Beverly Sumner of Junction City, whose son serves on a nuclear attack submarine that may be in the Persian Gulf region. "That's when I'd fall apart."

Teri Olkowski of Springfield has one son in the gulf and another on the way - both Army cavalry scouts. It's hard not to despair, but she's working at it.

"I think what I do is let pride be the more powerful emotion and just keep the fear down," Olkowski said. "And somebody's kids have to do it. Why not my kids?"

Here are the stories of five Lane County families.

Johan Winn, U.S. Marines

SPRINGFIELD - It was a short honeymoon.

They had reserved the King Premier Room at Salishan Lodge in Lincoln City. Instead, they spent just one night together at a Residence Inn in Portland.

The day after his Dec. 26 wedding, 20-year-old Marine Lance Cpl. Johan Winn flew to Camp Pendleton near Oceanside, Calif. A few weeks later, he was in Kuwait.

"He has a passion to serve," said his wife, Kristi, 21. "He always thinks of others before himself. He's kind and loving - a family man."

He drives a forklift to unload ships and helicopters that bring in equipment and supplies needed for combat.

"He wants to excel at what he does," said Kristi Winn, who grew up in Central Oregon and met Johan through her brother. "He doesn't do it half-heartedly."

His wife, parents and siblings - living together on Quinalt Street - don't know exactly where he is. "Somewhere surrounded by sand," Kristi said. "That's all I know."

He's not in the infantry, but his job keeps him close to the front lines. If the Marines take an airport in Iraq, Johan could be sent there.

"There's no safe place," said his mother, Linda, a certified nurse's aide at Sacred Heart Medical Center. "It's tense and scary."

Kristi has talked to her husband five times since he arrived in Kuwait. His weekly calls home last five minutes.

"The last one, he didn't sound real good," she said. "He's starting to miss everyone a lot. He just received some of my letters."

Johan Winn, a 2001 graduate of Springfield High School, likes to run, drift on the McKenzie River and work with wood. He built an oak entertainment center for his parents and a wooden crucifix to hang on their wall. He did landscaping work in high school. They nicknamed him "Mow the lawn Johan."

A friend who joined the Marines talked him into signing up about a year and a half ago. He hopes to expand his horizons, to "go out and find himself," his wife said.

He has 2 1/2 more years to serve but could be back home by June 6. He and Kristi eventually want to settle in Salem or Albany. Johan wants to be a firefighter. "I'm going to be a full-time mom," his wife said.

Jason Schweitzer, U.S. Marines

CRESWELL - In high school in Vancouver, Wash., Jason Schweitzer was approached by an Army recruiter. Not interested, he said. But he wasn't ready for college either.

"He was sick of school, sick of the structure," said his mother, Susan Schweitzer of Creswell. "He just wanted to be a free spirit."

He took odd jobs but realized he lacked technical skills. At 19, he joined the Marines.

"We couldn't have been more surprised and proud of our son as when he joined," Susan said.

Now 22, Lance Cpl. Schweitzer is attached to the 3rd Marine Air Wing out of San Diego. Five days ago, he called from Kuwait, waking his parents at 2 a.m. to tell them they probably wouldn't hear from him for a while. He was in good spirits, but he couldn't reveal where he was going or when.

"It's kind of a thought-provoking thing," said his father, Gary, a district manager for the Sherwin-Williams Co. who served in the Navy. "What is the last thing you want to say to your son?"

They told him they loved him. "Keep your head down," Mom added.

Humor sometimes lightens tense moments on the phone. Recently, when he had to pick his pallbearers in case he's killed, Jason told his parents, "Mom and Dad, I'll leave that up to you. I won't be there."

Funny, outgoing - that's Jason Schweitzer. He took his guitar to Kuwait and sings for his buddies. He writes songs about camp and life in the Marines, songs like "Okinawa Blues."

He's part of an advance detail that sets up water systems for new camps. That sounds like a safe assignment, Susan Schweitzer said, but Jason told her they're targets as the first ones in to prepare for arriving troops. "That's what they want to blow up," he said.

A family friend who teaches second grade in Vancouver had her students send Jason a batch of letters. One from a little girl tore his heart out. She wrote that her parents were getting divorced and she's really unhappy, "But I hope you're OK."

Jared and Justin Kriger,

U.S. Marines

SPRINGFIELD - Teri Olkowski has two sons who may march on Iraq from across different borders.

Army Pfc. Jared Kriger, 21, is in Kuwait. His older brother, Army Spc. Justin Kriger, 23, is at Fort Hood, Texas, waiting to go into Turkey if that country allows in U.S. troops.

Both are cavalry scouts. Jared drives Humvees. Justin is a gunner on a Bradley armored fighting vehicle. Soon, both could see combat.

"You just try not to think about it," their mother said. "I just push it back. I have private moments and just fall apart, like when I hear a patriotic song."

The family routinely watches news reports on the showdown in the Persian Gulf, scouring footage of Army camps for a chance glimpse of Justin or Jared, who both attended Thurston High School.

But the protests - that they could do without, said Amanda Witham, 26, their older sister.

"I can't even watch it," Witham said. "I get sick to my stomach."

Olkowski said she worries what U.S. forces may think of anti-war rallies.

"The troops over there, you got to support them," she said, "because that directly affects their morale, which affects their safety."

Jared writes and asks about current events.

"I get the idea he has no clue there's an anti-war movement going on here," Olkowski said.

"And he can't really talk about what they're doing," Witham added, "so it's all about us."

She sent Jared a couple of books - a Dean Koontz novel and spy fare. "He's not a reader, so you can tell he's really hurting for something to do," she said.

Justin, who has served three years, is the family daredevil, the risk-taker, the tough guy. Family members describe him as more independent and less vulnerable than Jared, who's a bit more sensitive. A baseball player, hunter and angler, Jared's always cracking jokes.

The family seems especially nervous for Jared, who signed up a little more than a year ago and is poised to go into battle at any moment.

"I'm kind of scared because I hope he doesn't die in the war," said 9-year-old brother Chad Olson.

Stephen Sumner, U.S. Navy

JUNCTION CITY - Jack and Beverly Sumner don't know where their son is.

He could be in the Arabian Sea, serving with a crew ready to launch cruise missiles into Iraq. He could be in the Sea of Japan, where international tensions are mounting in response to North Korea flexing its nuclear muscle.

Wherever Chief Petty Officer Stephen Sumner is, his parents know he's doing what he loves.

"He's gone and all I can do is pray he's safe," his mother said. "I'm not going to sit at home and cry about it, because it's his job. I mean, we have tears, but they're tears of pride."

Stephen's father, himself a former military man, is matter of fact about his son's duty and the role he may play in a war.

"Our son serves at the pleasure of the president," Jack Sumner said. "These people protesting the war - they can do that because he serves."

Stephen Sumner, 35, a Corvette enthusiast and Formula 1 racing fan, is on a fast-attack nuclear submarine, the USS Charlotte. He joined the Navy in 1988, at age 21, and has served on submarines for about 10 years altogether.

During the gulf war in 1991, he was on the USS Vallejo, his first boat. His father served on the same sub when it was commissioned in the mid-1960s.

Sumner men have served since the Revolutionary War; Jack put in 29 years with the Navy and Army before retiring in 1985. Stephen now wears his father's Navy dolphins, a silver-plated pin awarded to enlisted personnel.

He stands chief of the watch and serves as the diving officer. He also is a senior sonarman, trained to detect the sounds of ships and other subs.

The Sumners fly an American flag outside their home on Quince Drive. In a window, they display a military service flag - a single blue star on a white background within a red border.

"He's very good at what he does or he wouldn't be as far along as he is," Jack Sumner said. "Most people love their kids. We likes ours also."

The couple last saw their son in San Diego in January 2002, but they exchange e-mails with him while he's on patrol, which can last up to six months.

"At least we know he's OK," his mother said.

She gets upset by criticism of the military on TV or in the paper. "I don't know how to take it sometimes, so I don't listen to it."

Jason Lyman, U.S. Marines

VENETA - Judy Lyman is working on another care package for son Jason, almost 23, a Marine corporal at Camp Begieo in Kuwait.

So far, it includes beef jerky, trail mix, hand sanitizer and some baby powder for his feet. Previous packages have included dental floss, instant oatmeal, chocolate chip cookies and soft toilet paper.

The desert is an inhospitable place, and Cpl. Lyman, who bunks in a tent with 100 other men, likes to be clean and comfortable.

"They also just got the showers up and running after about a week of complications," he wrote his family on Valentine's Day. "Thank God. Some people get really smelly after a week without showers."

Judy Lyman has followed her son's four-year military service closely, visiting him wherever he was stationed. She said the Marines have been good for her son, a mechanic who works on 5-ton trucks and Humvees. "He definitely walks an inch taller," she said.

She has mixed feelings about the pending war. She supports a strong military, but is opposed to the killing.

"He said, `If there's a little boy running toward me, Mom, I'm going to have to shoot him, because I don't know if he has a bomb,' ' she said.

"He said he'd give his life for his country. He loves his country," she said. "He doesn't want to go in there and be a screw-up. He wants to make an impression."

He asked his mom about the protests back home.

"I tried to sugarcoat it," she said. "I told him people are just protesting the killing."

A 1999 graduate of Willamette High School, Jason had planned to be back home by now, working on his car and getting ready to attend Lane Community College or the University of Oregon. But they're keeping him in for now.

"He called last Wednesday and told me he'll be home in six months," Judy Lyman said. "But I'm not going by that. He'll be home when he's home."