J is my best friend, a tough, compassionate German-Chippewa woman who grew up on a reservation and came to the University of Oklahoma via a National Guard scholarship. I won't name her home state to protect her identity, but it's a hardscrabble, hard-drinking, hard-working place whose charms are revealed in the glistening snows of six-month winters.

J and I met in a music appreciation class freshman year, but what I really appreciated was how she sharked the guys at the pool table in my dormitory. We became roommates; she was always the more responsible one. Because of J, the bills got paid, the dishes got scrubbed, the essays got typed on her old word processor. I neglected class to report for the student newspaper. She plunged syringes into oranges as part of her medical studies.

Once a month, she fulfilled her "weekend warrior" responsibilities for the National Guard. All I knew was that after a night of partying, she would trade her spangly tops for camouflage and leave early in the morning to report for duty. Only when I was about to miss deadline for a feature-writing assignment did I learn more about these disappearances. I persuaded her to be my interview subject hours before a paper was due and she shocked me with tales of digging her own fox holes, learning to shoot straight, and how to treat combat wounds. I got an A.

After graduation, we both moved north, so close that I was able to drive to her hometown to wear a purple bridesmaid's dress at her wedding. I was touched and surprised when she gave her first baby, a beautiful girl, an Arabic name that holds special meaning.

Despite all of J's training, I was the one who saw combat first, when I moved to Iraq to cover the war in 2003.

Seeing all the Guard personnel in Iraq, I feared it was just a matter of time before J's unit was deployed. I had daydreams of an emotional reunion in the Green Zone, but really prayed that J never set foot in that blood-soaked country. Year after year passed with a few close calls, but no deployment for J's medical unit. I left Iraq for Cairo, J settled into her role as a mother, and Baghdad faded into just another headline on the evening news.

J's luck ran out last month, thrusting Iraq back into our lives.

She was ordered on a one-year deployment to Iraq, effective within weeks. Motherhood doesn't prevent deployment, but pregnancy does, so J and her husband immediately began trying for another baby. She still wasn't pregnant by the departure date, so she had no choice but to say goodbye to her family and leave for her training. She was told she would be permitted one last visit home before shipping out to Iraq.

J sent me frantic emails asking about the roots of the conflict, what to expect, cultural customs. I put together a booklet called, "GI J's Survival Guide to Mess-o-patamia" and e-mailed it to her for her birthday. She is now on the first part of her training and this week she sent family and friends a letter that describes her fears and excitement over heading to Iraq.

It was so moving that I asked J whether I could post her letters home in order to give American readers a glimpse into a mother's life in a war zone. She agreed, as long as I didn't identify her or publish anything that could harm operational security.

This is J's first letter home:

hey all, just thought id drop a quick line to give everyone an update on my wonderful vacation.  just got done with 3 weeks of medic refresher training in san antonio.  i unfortunately have to admit that it was really good training.  they showed us new techniques being used and also new supplies that are helping to save lives on the battlefield.  it really hit home then that "I am going to war!"

i came back for two days (seemed like 2 minutes) and headed off to ft dix new jersey on jan27.  i am now inprocessing and making sure im medically clear to go.  i tried claiming that i was mentally unstable, but people in the unit said ive been that way for years, so they wouldnt accept it as something that could send me home :(   

we will only be here 2 months now, instead of the original thought of 3 months.  at the end of march i will get to go home for 4-6 days and then we will fly back to jersey and then on to baghdad.  not totally sure what all training will consist of here but it will include classes on the culture in the middle east, how to enter and clear buildings, how to convoy and handle attacks, and i suppose a bunch of other military yum yums. we also have to go through the gas chamber again (havent done that since basic training) and i heard we have to do a 7mile road march with our gear!! 

while we are here we stay on a pretend FOB (forward operating base) designed to give us a feel of what life will be like overseas.  however, from what ive heard from all who have gone over before is that life over there is WAY better than what they try and give us here.  i suppose its so we appreciate it more when we go over. 

for those of you that dont know i got pulled to go with a military police unit that will be helping to transition in the iraqi police.  its supposed to be an intense mission and ive been warned that im going to see some pretty bad shit over there.  i hope thats not the case and maybe they are just trying to get us really focused.  i am the senior medic and i have four young male medics under me (that sounds kind of fun actually).  but anyway they are all 19 and 20 and straight out of training.  really nice guys though, kind of thankful i dont have all females.  you know how we can get girls!!!! 

so anyway, i dont know if i will have to go on many missions or if im going to be playing mostly a supervisory role.  in a way if i knew id be safe id like to see if i can hold my own medically and mentally.  but that would mean we would have soldiers injured and that also would make me poop my pants taking care of someone while being shot at.  we will see what God has planned for me.  when i think of my daughter, i almost couldnt care less if i never saw any action. 

it is the most heart wrenching thing when you hear your child crying for you.  my 1st night away was horrible, pretty much thought i would have to be put on all the happy pills in the world if i was going to make it back half way sane.  each day got a little better, but the first night away after my visit was hard again.  i suppose it will be like that everytime, and alot of other times over the next year.  shit that sounds horrible.  a year.   i hope and pray it goes extremely fast.

i know, i know.  you are all saying "well you are the dumbass that signed the line".  and yes i know i did, but you never quite think it will happen to you, i guess.  (kind of like knowing you could get genital warts, but still having unprotected sex.)

well i guess that ends the first chapter in my novel.  i will keep up the updates when i get time.  until then, HOOAH!!!!!  (just kidding, i throw up in my mouth everytime i hear that now)

theres strong, and theres army strong!!!

love,

j