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The worst part about Iraqis stealing howitzer shells from U.S. Marines is you never know which ones are only in it to melt down the brass to sell at market and which ones want to use the explosives to build a roadside bomb.

This was just one worry on the minds of Baton Rougeans Lance Cpl. Luke Joseph and Cpl. Aaron Lemann in March 2003 when both served in the 3rd Battalion 23rd Marines 4th Marine Division in Baghdad. The heaviest fighting may have been over, but they still had a tough task: to keep the peace once Saddam Hussein’s capital was under U.S. control.

“At night seeing tracer rounds, and hearing people shooting in the city, the occasional explosion every couple of days or so, you just kind of got used to it,” Joseph says. “It was just part of the lifestyle.”

The heat was unbearable, dropping at the lowest to 105 degrees. Lemann went from smoking a pack of cigarettes a day to three. Communication with loved ones back home was limited at best.

Lemann would spend his days as a gunner, riding atop the Humvee manning a 50-caliber machine gun—a prime target for the enemy.

“We had always been told that that’s the first guy that is going to be shot, because he’s got the big gun and you want to take him out first,” Lemann says. “When you are riding around, you’re just waiting. And it’s running through your head, you know, ‘Is it going to be this corner that I go around and somebody pops out a window and pops me?’”

Lemann would come out of Iraq physically unscathed. But Joseph, who spent his time as a Humvee driver, would not be as fortunate.

Much of their time was spent patrolling Iraqi ammo supply points. They would often catch Iraqis breaking apart howitzer shells. The shells were filled with explosives, but most Iraqis would steal shells for the brass to melt down and sell. The practice was extremely dangerous because the explosives could blow at anytime. It was next to impossible for Marines to determine their intentions.

On June 4, 2003, Joseph and his fellow Marines came across such a group of Iraqis. Joseph and his group had just settled in for dinner when they got the call to go out to a bunker. Joseph didn’t even have time to put on his proper uniform.

“We made them move all the munitions back in [the bunker], but we still had the powder on the ground, this huge pile of powder,” Joseph recalls. “Well, because there were families and kids, because it was more a farming kind of rural area, none of us felt comfortable leaving it there.”

So Joseph decided to burn off the explosives. He lit the powder and turned to run back to the rest of the group. What he did not realize was the trail of explosives ran under the sand and substantially farther back than he could see. Even in the broad desert daylight he could see the flash of light from the explosion.

“It happened so fast,” Joseph says. “It felt like when you throw lighter fluid on a barbecue pit and you get that kind of flash of heat, and it kind of makes you step back. It’s like that, but it just got so hot that it made me just want to scream.”

GREENER PASTURES

Twenty-six percent of Joseph’s body was instantly burned. The mix of second and third degree burns was worst along his right leg and left arm, but covered all of the exposed skin on his backside.

Because he was not in full uniform his legs were burned from the bottom of his shorts to the top of his boots. The lines of the burns were almost perfectly symmetrical his exposed skin essentially flash-fried. At first Joseph didn’t think he was seriously injured. Then his skin glazed and bubbled.

He was transported to a nearby medical unit where his skin was wrapped in gauze. He remembers hearing the calls for a medical air evacuation.

Joseph returned from Iraq with 26 percent of his body badly burned. He compared the accident to throwing lighter fluid on a barbecue pit.

Joseph was transferred to a hospital in Rammstein, Germany, then finally to Brook Army Medical Center in San Antonio. If he’d had his way he would have recuperated in Iraq and returned to his post.

“When the liaison over there told me that they were going to send me back stateside, that I wasn’t going to go back, I broke down,” Joseph says. “In my brain, I didn’t feel like I deserved to go home. I didn’t do anything to deserve to go home before anybody else. I wanted to stay and fight, and I wanted to finish it out with them.”

After months of recovery, 18% of his body was permanently scarred. It was then the Marine realized how lucky he was to be alive.

“I remember when I was in my room, when I finally started moving around a little bit, going to the window and looking out the window and just realizing how green, seeing how green it was,” Joseph says, “It was just beautiful.”

INVINCIBILITY AND ANXIETY

Lemann returned home in August 2003. Though he did not sustain any injuries, he felt anxiety and had problems adjusting to a normal daily routine. Leaving the house without a weapon seemed odd.

“It felt strange not having to have a gun,” Lemann says. “It was a staple there, and it isn’t here. Before you go somewhere, you get all your stuff and the first thing you always grab is your pistol or rifle, and it’s strange not having to grab my weapon when I walk out the door.”

But it was not just a craving for his weapon that kept Lemann tense.

“When you got back, you just had a general feeling of anxiousness,” Lemann says. “Because you’re over there long enough to where you come back home and you know nothing’s going to happen and everything’s ordinary, but you’re just so used to being on the edge all the time.”

Lemann thinks the anxiety he experienced is common, but many soldiers do not admit it. What many do admit is the first thing most people want to do when returning home is have a good time.

“When you first come back, you sort of feel invincible,” Joseph says. “You’re just partying, drinking and enjoying the things you don’t get to do overseas. You’re just indulging.”

For Joseph the partying continued until he grew tired of drinking and felt the need to get his life back in order. For Lemann, the partying continued a little longer.

Lemann had returned to Meridian, Miss., where his girlfriend, Jessica, had relocated while he was away. He had a difficult time adjusting to normal life without his core group of friends. He had problems finding a job and ended up waiting tables. Joseph says these frustrations might have led him to drink more than he did before he left for duty.

“It’s not like I was sitting home having the stereotypical Nicholas Cage Leaving Las Vegas moment,” Lemann says. “I would just find excuses to go out, and I guess most of the time I justified it. You know: I need to celebrate. I’ve been over there and came back alive, so let me go out and celebrate — when in reality I just felt like drinking.”

Joseph and Jessica eloped to Las Vegas to avoid the hassles of wedding planning. Soon after, Jessica found out she was pregnant.

“I know she was kind of nervous when she found out she was pregnant. Because I was different when I got back just in general from what I was when I left. I think she was kind of just trying to feel me out,” Lemann admits.

Part of what she was adjusting to was Lemann’s increased partying. He was still returning to Baton Rouge for monthly reserve drills and spending extra time in town to go out with his friends.

“Keep in mind my wife’s at home pregnant, and I’m going out three times a week,” Lemann says. “That’s a recipe for disaster.”

Lemann poses with a local Iraqi boy. He said photos like this remind him of why Marines need to fight in Iraq.

Eventually Lemann and Jessica had a conversation about his drinking. He stopped soon after, and the couple returned to Baton Rouge.

LIKE AN OLD PAIR OF SHOES

“It’s not a feeling of fear, it’s a feeling of anxiousness,” Joseph explains. “You’re not scared. You’re not afraid. It’s just kind of having to get used to sleeping in a comfortable bed and letting your nerves rest.”

The routine of daily life has sunken in for both men now. Joseph says his life at home became like slipping on a pair of old boots. The comfort of friends and family and new careers have given the veterans a new outlook and temperament.

“You have this sense of self-worth, this grand purpose, that you are part of history,” Lemann says. “You go from one end of the spectrum to just another guy looking for a job.”

Joseph now serves as a police officer in Baton Rouge and plans to marry his longtime girlfriend, Samantha. Lemann is an insurance salesman. He and Jessica’s son, Jacob, will turn 2.

Lemann will finish his service with the reserves in 2007. But Joseph has two years left in active reserves plus two years left in the inactive reserves. He could be called back to Iraq at any time.

“When you go the first time, you're all gung-ho about it,” Joseph says. “And especially when you're here after you've gone one time and you readjust, and they tell you you're going back a second time, you're more aware of what you have to lose.”