It's a place in Hamilton where Danielle Westfall and four children have gone about their daily business for a year, knowing that Jeffrey Westfall was in harm's way.
It's a place where Danielle and Jeffrey's oldest, 14-year-old Megan, picked up some of the slack, helping her younger brothers and sister with their homework. It's a place where once the computer comes on, everybody rushes to see if there's an e-mail from dad.
“Barely,” said Megan. “Just barely.”
The families huddled closely at Missoula International Airport on Wednesday afternoon. The gray skies clung tightly to the mountains, but for the Montana National Guard families waiting to see their loved ones after a year in Iraq, the sun was about to shine brightly.
Faces that endured a year of uncertain strain eased into smiles as word spread that the plane was just a few minutes behind schedule.
Then the clear voice of Horizon's Denette Erickson came across the loudspeaker: “Announcing the arrival of Horizon Flight 2348!”
“Woohoo!” said Evan Wood, whose dad, John, was on the plane.
“It's daddy!” said Abe Westfall. “It's daddy's plane.”
What is home without a father?
The remaining members of Company C of the 1-163 Infantry Battalion touched down about 1:15 p.m. Most of Charlie Company arrived home Nov. 5, but a small contingent had arrived at Fort Lewis in Washington a day after that and had to wait until Wednesday to get home.
“We had a few days off, then we got to spend some time with the guys without the worries of Iraq,” said Sgt. John Wood, who served as a platoon leader. “Now it's home to family, and that sounds mighty good.”
There's an acute, piercing aspect to the feeling of having a family member at war. Even with the busy-ness of everyday life, the feeling never quite goes away, surfacing in the quiet moments as unrequited longing.
“It's never far away from your mind,” Danielle Westfall said.
It's a feeling that can get in the way of doing what you have to do to get by, she said, so you do your best to set it aside.
The men and women of the American military share the feeling, but like their families, they have to set it aside. For them, it's a matter or survival.
“You know, in the evenings, when you have a little time, you get to missing everybody,” said Wood, who lives in Corvallis. “But there's an aspect to what we're doing there that makes you realize that you can't stay focused on that. You've got to have your mind on the mission, or you're dead.”
The mission was deadly serious. Wood said his platoon was primarily stationed in Hawijah, an hour or so south of Kirkuk. The soldiers provided security for the Iraqi elections and spent countless hours patrolling deadly roadways.
“Where we were, there were an extremely high number of (improvised explosive devices), one of the highest numbers in the country,” Wood said. “You were on your guard all the time.”
Even as he slept, Wood could be drawn to full alert by the simple sound of a door slamming.
“Every boom you hear, you had to think it was something bad,” he said.
Now he's looking forward to the cacophonous sound of his children: Josh, Lindsy, Michaela and Evan.
“They've been so good while he's been gone,” said Paula Wood, John's wife. “They're all looking forward to having him home. I sure am.”
Danielle Westfall felt the same about her husband.
“I can't believe it's you,” she said after their children were done with a first round of hugs.
Jeffrey Westfall builds furniture and has served in the military for 20 years. With his duty in Iraq done, he's retiring from the service.
“This is it for me,” he said. “I'm all done and I'm not going back.”
The time he spent away from his family was like an eternity.
“The minutes just crawled by,” he said. “It was a very, very, very long year.”
But now he's back. The Westfall house, complete with father, is a home again.
Reporter Michael Moore can be reached at 523-5252 or at mmoore@missoulian.com
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