Since Troy, a 24-year-old Army Specialist, shipped out to Kuwait in December, he's been regularly calling his family back in Hamilton, N.J., good-naturedly complaining about the fierce sandstorms that forced his unit to sleep in their trucks and worriedly checking on Melanie, his girlfriend, who is four months pregnant. Last week, Johnson says, Troy called to say his cellphone was being confiscated, indicating he was moving into more dangerous territory. Between now and November, when Troy's tour of duty is officially over, Johnson worries anything could happen to the son she affectionately calls "the gentle giant" because of his imposing size, shaved head and surprisingly sweet demeanor.

"I told my son, 'Please. I know you think you're ready for this war and you know how to shoot a gun, but mentally, you have no idea how [the Iraqis] think.' They don't care about human life. I worry that this will turn into a guerrilla war, and Troy will have to do terrible things."

Like Sandra Wright, Johnson finds the antiwar protests bewildering.

"It's a pet peeve of mine. You ask these people, 'What would you do differently?' and none of them have an answer," she says. "I'm from the Vietnam era. I don't necessarily believe in war. Many soldiers and their families don't necessarily believe this war is right," Johnson adds, reaching for more tissues. "However, at this point, our soldiers feel they're protecting our country from terrorists. And that they eventually will bring freedom to the Iraqi people. We have to support them and say prayers for them."

Denise Raney, who resembles a smaller Angela Bassett, drove nearly two hours from Hillside, N.J., to attend the Hearts Apart meeting with her 15-year-old son, Justin. Her eldest son, 22-year-old Phillip, is an M.P. in the Army and was sent to Kuwait last week, just two weeks after returning from a mission in Kosovo.

"I told him, 'You just got back! You shouldn't be going again!'" Raney remembers. "He looked at me and said, 'Mom, do you want another 9/11? That's why I'm going.'"

The last she heard from Phillip was a phone message on March 23, saying only, "Mom, I'm fine. I'm here." But Raney isn't sure where "here" is. Her eyes well up at the possibilities.

Aside from dealing with a lack of information about her son's whereabouts and well-being, Raney, too, is pained by what she sees as a lack of support for troops here at home. "We're facing so much negativity," she says. "The media covers antiwar protesters, but not how many people support the troops and how much we love them. Once the president declares war, we have to get behind our troops. They're over there giving their lives."

Justin, a high school sophomore, has been involved with ROTC for the past two years and is already planning to join the military after he graduates. He blushes and shrugs when asked if his older brother's proud of him for following in his footsteps. "I just want him to be safe, be smart with his actions, and hurry up home soon," he says softly.

Army Sgt. 1st class Tim Jayne has been gone since December, leaving his wife, Denise, alone with their three small daughters, ages 7, 4 and 22 months. "He didn't want to leave, but this is what he trained for," Jayne says.

She last spoke to her husband four weeks ago, when he was able to call for several minutes from an undisclosed location in the Kuwaiti desert. The good phone connection made Tim sound like he was just next door, which, Jayne says, made the conversation that much more painful. "He seemed OK, but he protects me from the truth. He'll always say things are fine."

While Jayne is putting together a care package of things her husband is craving -- everything from eyedrops to cinnamon Pop-Tarts -- she says she still feels "totally hopeless."

"My daughters dream about [their father] all the time and think he's still here," she says. "When they realize he's not, they wake up crying. We're always crying."

Jayne says she doesn't have a problem with people protesting the war -- so long as they support the troops. Like others at the meeting, she says it's hard to find sympathy for what she's feeling.

"I don't have a lot of people in my community," she says. "I don't have anyone, actually, to talk to. It's nice to be able to come here and be around people who really understand what you're going through."

Lt. Col. Paul Womack, an Army chaplain sitting in on the meeting, nods at Jayne and tries to be reassuring. "I wish we had a magic wand and could fix everything," he sighs. "But we can't just take this away. We have to live through the experience."

Debra Husted says her family is trying to "suck it up" and be strong about her sister going off to Iraq. Hopefully, history will be on their side: Four generations of her family have fought in wars, and all have safely returned home. "'Re is the first female in our family to go," Husted says confidently, "and she'll come home, too."

In a way, the antiwar sentiment at home has strengthened 'Re's commitment to her country. In her most recent letter home, she wrote, "I feel [serving in the Army] is my way of expressing my love for everyone: from friends and family to the people I stand next to in line for coffee. I raised my right hand to give my life for every person I have ever known and for every person I will never meet."

Whether or not she gets appreciation from U.S. citizens upon returning home, 'Re will certainly be greeted as a hero by one group of die-hard supporters.

"Kayla's kindergarten class loves 'Re," says Husted. "All the kids want to be soldiers now."

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