After The Euphoria, a Letdown

By Jill Smolowe

For the moment, there is giddy elation, as returning Desert Storm troops touch down on American soil to a triumphal welcome of balloons and bands, spouses and children. "As far as I'm concerned, he is a hero," says Bonnie Cutts, 22, of her husband David, also 22, a naval engine mechanic who is expected to return to Charleston, S.C., in the next few weeks. "He'll be a hero for the rest of his life."

But when the hoopla subsides, many families will be left to cope with a host of problems that may catch them by surprise. "Reunion is much more stressful than departure," cautions Meg Falk, deputy director of the Navy's family- support program. Typically, the returning troops will career from euphoria to a baffled recognition that time has not stood still in their absence: children have grown, spouses have become more independent. It's difficult to adjust. "We encourage them to be an honored guest in the home for a while rather than come charging in to take over," says Marine Chaplain J.S. Kirstein, who oversees a homecoming-counseling program at the Marine Corps Air Station in Cherry Point, N.C.

Moreover, old, prewar problems have not disappeared. "When the glow wears off, there will be exaggerations of previous difficulties," warns Dr. Paul Fink, medical director of the Philadelphia Psychiatric Center. "If the marriage was not too good before, the return could precipitate the disruption of the marriage." And even a solid marriage may need to be handled with care. "Re-establishing sexual intimacy can be like going through courtship again," says Falk.

Many troops will experience postwar blues. They will feel a need to repeatedly tell their war stories, describing the hardships they endured. Some will be tempted to go on spending -- and drinking -- binges. Military and civilian family experts caution that returning warriors may feel dissatisfied with home life. Many will be inattentive to or dismissive of family problems. "People who have been on the battlefront have very nearly faced death," says Falk. "Things that may be important to the family may seem trivial to them."

/ Many of those who were involved in ground combat or aerial raids will reel from the shock of having killed people. Such a reaction typically takes about six months to set in. But, advises John Stein, deputy director of the Washington-based National Organization for Victim Assistance, "for some, the dichotomy between horrific memories and the sense of triumph will strike them as being psychologically intolerable right from the get-go."

Trauma experts anticipate relatively few cases of post-traumatic stress disorder, a condition that afflicted many Vietnam veterans. "This war was quick, efficient, brilliant, and every soldier can take credit for that," says Fink. "I believe that will diminish the number of psychiatric casualties." Still, families should be on the lookout for such symptoms as depression, difficulty in concentrating and distressing dreams.

Spouses also face adjustments. During the war, husbands and wives assumed new housekeeping and child-rearing responsibilities, from monitoring the checkbook to tucking the children in at night. They will expect appreciation and may be reluctant to relinquish their new power. Says Kathleen Weihl, 27, whose husband Gary will soon return to Georgia's Fort Stewart: "The guys are going to see that wives can get along without them, and it's going to be a rude awakening for some of them." Weihl, who endured a 14-month separation in the late '80s when Gary was sent to South Korea, also knows the pitfalls of overidolizing the absent loved one: "He may have sounded like Cary Grant in his letters," she says, "but back home he can still be a slob." Charles Figley, a family therapist in Tallahassee, warns that spouses may compete for sympathy, a phenomenon he calls I-had-it-worse-itis.

The greatest tensions may surround the children. While the troops were away, babies learned to walk, teenagers got their driver's licenses, and children may have developed habits that are distressing to the returning parent. The Navy, which flies teams of mental-health workers to ships coming back from the gulf, counsels patience and tolerance. "We tell them that if their teenager shows up on the dock with long hair and a ring in one ear, that isn't the time to say, 'Hey, what happened to you,' " notes Falk. Many children will have formed deeper bonds with the parent who remained at home and become accustomed, for instance, to the way Dad reads the bedtime story. Sleeping arrangements may have changed: Lana Gorley's two daughters, 10 and 13, got in the habit of sharing their mom's bed while their father, Second Lieut. Craig Gorley, was away.

Not all youngsters will rush to greet the returning parent with open arms. Children under age five often hold back or cry. Teenagers are "unpredictable as ever," says Fink. Experts advise that children be warned in advance that Mom or Dad may act and even look a little different. Rereading letters from the front can also help them prepare for the reunion.

Over time, most families adjust. After putting her husband "on a pedestal," Laura Root of Sterling, Ill., is looking forward to the shock of gritty reality: "I can't wait to have a fight and get back to normal." Military support services have moved into high gear to alert families to the dangers lurking ahead. Says the Navy's Falk: "We want them to understand that all this is normal."

With reporting by Ann Blackman/Washington and Don Winbush/Atlanta