Reunited couple making up for lost time.

Byline: Susan Palmer The Register-Guard

Sherry McConnell and Vince Suetos have 98 Sunday mornings to make up for.

It's the number of weekends the Iraq war kept the Eugene couple apart, the number of mornings they didn't kick back with an open agenda, watch the morning news shows and let the day unfold.

McConnell, 44, a partner in a law firm and a Marine reservist who was called up at the start of the war, served two stints in Kuwait, the first from July through October 2003, the second from January to November 2004.

Suetos, 56, a retired Marine who teaches at Springfield's alternative high school, the Gateways Learning Center, kept the home fires burning during his wife's first tour. The couple still had a son in high school. But when she got called up a second time, he didn't want to wait at home any longer. When a friend called to suggest that he take a contract job with Halliburton, Suetos figured it was the only way he'd get to see his wife.

It didn't turn out that way.

In January 2004, while his wife was managing logistics for the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force in Kuwait, he was assigned to Camp Freedom and Camp Marez, Army bases in Mosul where he coordinated security for the independent contract workers there.

Now the two are home, putting their lives back together, grateful for the neighbors who kept an eye on their southwest Eugene house, mowed the lawn and maintained their cars. Glad as they are to be together again, it's also a little strange, like moving in with someone you don't know well, McConnell said.

Sitting in their cozy home with aging cats Miss Kitty and Mr. Festus at their feet and pictures of their sons nearby, the couple described their experiences in a zone where the violence steadily worsened.

McConnell, a lieutenant colonel, oversaw the movement of men, their gear, munitions, food, water and living quarters into and out of the country. It was painstaking work requiring 18- to 20-hour days, seven days a week.

When she started, it often took as long as two weeks to get men from their U.S. home base to their Iraq station. McConnell streamlined the process, a difficult task that involved negotiations among the various military services. But she developed a system that got men in and out of the country on average in just 72 hours.

"To me it was obvious that it could be done," she said. "Even if we only did it half the time, that was still better." McConnell figures she saved the military the equivalent of 554,000 man days.

"One of the things I learned as a logistician, there are only three things that Marines should be doing: fighting, training to fight or they should be on liberty. ... If I can get a guy home two weeks sooner, if he doesn't have to leave home two weeks early, that's more time with his family," she said.

The military rewarded her effort with a Bronze Star.

Her work often took her into Iraq, and she recalled night flights on helicopters with tracers whizzing by and the Marines on board firing machine guns down in reply.

Second tour more dangerous

Her second tour proved much more dangerous than the first. "There wasn't a threat to your life every time you walked out the door," she said of her initial tour in 2003.

McConnell never stinted on wearing protective gear in Iraq, despite the fact that not all soldiers did all the time.

"Whenever I was there, I was the dork," with helmet and flak jacket, she said.

Concern for her family motivated her.

"If something happens, how do you explain to your family, I just didn't feel like wearing it today?" she said.

Suetos, meanwhile, found himself trying to organize security for the hundreds of civilians - Turks, Pakistanis, Indians, Filipinos and Americans - working on the Army bases in Mosul.

The third-largest city in Iraq, Mosul has become one of the most deadly. In December, 22 soldiers were killed when a suicide bomber dressed as an Iraqi soldier blew himself up in an Army base cafeteria, a place that Suetos ate often during his time there.

Insurgents targeted the base and chow hall, and their attacks grew more frequent.

Suetos often found himself diving for cover into bunkers, under vehicles, sometimes just hitting the dirt, when mortars crashed into the camp.

As the attacks increased, Suetos became more concerned for the safety of the civilians working on the base. Contractors provided all the water and electricity, and ordered all the barriers, bunkers and trailers for housing the soldiers. They kept everything from toilets and showers to gym equipment and vehicles running.

But as more soldiers arrived to deal with the insurgency, fewer fortifications went to the contract workers, Suetos said.

"They said, `You're the lowest people on our priority list.' That bothered me. Because of that, we had our fair share of dead and wounded. ... I had some heated words with some Army folks over that fact," he said.

The Iraqis who worked at the camp represented a double risk. They were the hardest to do background checks on, which made them suspected insurgents and difficult to trust.

And those who did come to be trusted - such as the interpreters - often paid the price, targeted by the insurgents, who murdered one right outside the base gates.

People on the base began recognizing that Iraqi workers seemed to know when attacks were imminent. Sometimes less than half of the hundreds of workers would show up, Suetos said.

"Those days, you'd wear your flak jacket and helmet all day," he said.

Risks became too much

The couple e-mailed each other every day and spoke regularly on the phone. Occasionally, McConnell would hear explosions in the background and the phone would go dead.

By June, Suetos was too upset by the conditions to stay on. The Army - citing concerns about shooting innocent civilians - never fired back on the insurgents attacking the Mosul bases.

"I felt like I was walking around like a target. There was no counterattack. Here I am wearing the title of security coordinator, and I can't provide the security," he said. Not even the $500-per-day pay could induce him to remain.

"I was very happy when he decided to leave," McConnell said. "I was required to be there. He wasn't, and I worried about him getting kidnapped, getting his head chopped off."

All that danger seems far away now. The couple are calm and relaxed in the way they describe it.

But Suetos said there was a moment in the months after he got home when he was in a restaurant with his son that he felt the emotional impact of what he'd experienced.

"Something came over me, and I couldn't quit sobbing," he said.

There are no words to describe the feelings when you see people you know and care about injured, he said.

During one mortar attack, he saw three civilians hit by shrapnel. None of them died.

"But they were just shredded," he said.

Suetos had more contact with Iraqis than McConnell did, and he describes the people he met as hard workers who just want to take care of their families.

He saw engineers and lawyers dressed in suits and ties sweeping the streets, desperate for whatever work they could get.

"They are regular folks in the middle of this bizarre chaos," he said.

Whether the war is right or wrong is beside the point now, the two agreed.

Without a U.S. military presence, the country would devolve into civil war.

"We need to create an environment where they can take care of their own business," McConnell said.

A family of Marines

Now that they're home, McConnell finds herself overwhelmed by the extravagance of everyday American life.

For 11 months, she lived out of two bags with no problems.

When she works out at the gym and sees other women taking long showers or using two towels when one will do, she winces.

To her, water is still a precious resource, regardless of how abundant it appears here.

"We used less water, less electricity, less everything and on the whole, we did just fine," she said.

Despite the fact that they were in an area roughly the size of California, the two didn't get to see each other in Iraq.

But last April, the two met up in St. Louis for 10 days when McConnell had meetings to attend and Suetos arranged for time off.

They stayed in a hotel overlooking the famous St. Louis arch and had just dropped off into jet-lagged slumber when explosions rocketed them out of bed onto the floor, Suetos yelling "Get down!" and McConnell screaming, "Get your flak jacket!"

It took them several seconds to realize they were hearing a barrage of fireworks, not mortars.

"We just laughed about it later," McConnell said. Then, wrapped in blankets, they opened the curtains to enjoy the show.

While Suetos has returned to his teaching job in Springfield, McConnell doesn't plan to go back to work for several months.

"She's really tired. It's physical. It's mental." Suetos said, and McConnell agreed.

"You're sort of worn out, and you don't really know it at the time," she said.

But the Marines aren't quite done with this family. Their oldest son, Vince Jr., also a Marine, is currently serving near Fallujah in Iraq.

Their youngest boy just finished boot camp and is training for the Marines' military police.

It's a family thing, Suetos said.

CAPTION(S):

Sherry McConnell and husband Vince Suetos share a light moment at their Eugene home. Both spent time in Iraq in 2004 and were recently reunited. "If something happens, how do you explain to your family, I just didn't feel like wearing it today?" - SHERRY McCONNELL, ON WEARING PROTECTIVE GEAR IN IRAQ M a r i n e s