Staff Sgt. Donald Farley sleeps under a blanket that his
daughter Taylor, 6, gave him before he left for training
at Camp Shelby. Andre Teague (Bristol Herald Courier)

By Matthew Lakin
BRISTOL HERALD COURIER
Sept 21,2004 12:22 AM EDT

CAMP SHELBY, Miss. - Staff Sgt. Stacey Farley’s not ashamed of his pink Barbie blanket.

His 6-year-old daughter Taylor gave it to him just before he left Bristol Tennessee with Troop F, 2nd Squadron, of the 278th Regimental Combat Team.

"I didn’t dare not take it," said Farley, a Bristol Virginia firefighter and former paratrooper. "She gave me the sheets and the pillowcase right off her bed."

He sleeps with the blanket every night. Some soldiers laugh.

"And Barbie sleeps," goes the taunt.

Farley doesn’t care. He’ll carry the blanket with him to the Army’s National Training Center at Fort Irwin, Calif., and later to the mountains of northeastern Iraq, where he could spend the next two years.

It’s his way of staying close to his little girl.

Each soldier has his own way of keeping in touch with home, from daily phone calls to letters to the little things that remind them of the ones they love.

Family photos line the walls of the barracks. Soldiers listen to tapes of loved ones and read letters, cards and e-mails over and over.

"I love you, Daddy," one child wrote. "I wish I could see you. Come home soon."

Staff Sgt. Rob Holdway of Fall Branch, Tenn., sleeps under a quilt sewn by his wife, Kim. It’s decorated with photos of his children – Nathaniel, 10, Noah, 7, and Grace, 4.

The children decorated his pillowcase, colored with crayons and covered with handprints, hand-drawn American flags and the words "You are my sunshine."

"Their mom’s trying to keep them busy," Holdway said. "That helps."

He’s seen his family twice in the three months since he left. He can’t wait to see them again next month, when the soldiers are to get about 10 days of leave to visit with family before deployment.

"Everybody here would like to sleep in their own bed one more time," Holdway said "Being away from home is the hardest thing of all. But those two weeks may make it harder, when you get home and then have to leave again."

Pfc. Steven Amyx of Kingsport was getting ready to see his wife, April, over the weekend. They married a month before the troop left Bristol.

"We’re just trying to see each other in the time we have," he said. "After that, we won’t have any time left for over a year. But none of it’s been as bad as the first goodbye."

Most soldiers still talk to their loved ones every day.

"A lot of days I thank God for this cell phone," said Sgt. Gary Whiteside of Bluff City. "I’m so used to talking to my wife."

The men talk about their hopes, their worries, whatever’s on their minds.

"You come in from the field and you’re all wound up," said Sgt. David Rapcan of Kingsport. "Just to talk to your wife and kids, it calms you down."

Sometimes, the calls can’t last long enough.

"My oldest son says, ‘Daddy, I want to join the Army. I want to be with you,’ " said Cpl. Shawn Riggs of Coeburn, Va. "All these little guys want to wear uniforms and be with their dads."

That’s when the calls get through. When the 278th’s more than 4,000 soldiers try to call home at once, the base turns into a wireless black hole. Soldiers roam the base, twistng and turning in the search for a signal.

Amyx sometimes walks five miles.

To them, it’s worth the trouble.

"Just getting in touch means a lot, whether it’s a letter or a phone call," said Sgt. Gene McCoy of Bristol.

Not everyone has written letters yet because they can still call. That may change after the troop leaves for Iraq.

"We probably don’t write as much as we will," Holdway said.

Staff Sgt. Matt Cousins of Kingsport writes to his wife, Shaylene, twice a week.

"When I call, I’m almost telling the same thing that I’m writing in the letters," he said.

Once a week, a soldier’s letter appears in the newspaper back home, the Bristol Herald Courier. Riggs used his letter to wish his father a happy birthday.

"He got mad that I didn’t send a card," Riggs said. "I told him, it was in the paper for everybody to see."

Some calls and letters come from people the soldiers have never met. Churches and families at home have adopted various soldiers, sending them cards, letters and care packages.

"Throughut the U.S., it seems like a lot of people have forgotten about the war," said Staff Sgt. John Spears of Bristol. "But I think the people in Bristol have been pretty good. People still bond well there."

Capt. Richard Hunter Halliburton recently got a stack of letters from a second-grade class in Kingsport, his hometown.

"I will pray to God to keep you safe," one child wrote. "Keep your spirit high."

The children added drawings of eagles, Army jeeps and American flags.

"I hope the war ends soon so all the soldiers can come home," another wrote.

Halliburton plans to write back, although he doesn’t know what to say.

"It almost makes you cry," he said. "What can you say?"

Packages arrive every day, filled with food, drinks, batteries and other supplies. They empty fast.

Jars of peanut butter – crunchy, smooth, jelly-swirled – lined Holdway’s shelf. He still hadn’t figured out how to use it all up before leaving.

"A lot of that food’s got to disappear between now and then," he said.

Even wrong numbers can offer support. Whiteside remembers a woman who called him one day by mistake.

"I answred and said, ‘Sgt. Whiteside.’ She said, ‘Oh, I must have the wrong number. Honey, are you doing OK?’ "

Sometimes the support and thoughts of home are all that keep the men going.

"I tell my daughter, every day I’m gone is one day closer to coming home," Cousins said.

Story Copyright to TriCities.Com