When Josie Salzman, J.R.’s wife, arrived with her in-laws at Walter Reed on Christmas Day, she didn’t know what to expect.

Would she able to hug J.R. without hurting him? Would he have a bunch of tubes stuck in him? Would he even recognize her?

J.R., as it turned out, looked scruffy and exhausted but he seemed OK, thank goodness. After he talked with his parents, Josie stayed behind and gently gave him a sponge bath, head to toe, and brushed his teeth.

It was something she never anticipated she’d be doing for her husband. Certainly, not as a 20-year-old.

As she prepared to pull out a chair in his room to sleep, Josie realized she had barely eaten all day. But it was Christmas night and the cafeteria was closed.

A nurse came to her rescue. He warmed up an untouched meal a patient had passed up. It was just hospital food — steak and potatoes — but it seemed like a holiday feast.

Josie cried. At first, she wasn’t sure if it was the meal, her exhaustion or J.R.’s wounds. But then she realized why.

“I had my husband alive and in front of me,” she wrote in her blog. “I could see his face and touch his skin, he was real. What more could I possibly ask for?”

Rumors and tears

New Year’s Day and the turning of the calendar to 2007 meant one thing to the soldiers of the 1st Brigade Combat Team.

They were going home.

They were due back in spring, and couldn’t wait. Many simply wanted to resume lives that were in limbo. They had crops to plant, colleges to attend, families to see.

Some had special vacations planned. In his office at Tallil Air Base, the unit’s commander, Col. David Elicerio, displayed the postcards of Hawaii that his wife had sent, anticipating their spring trip.

The soldiers had been gone 16 months, including six months training in Mississippi. It was a long time. But soon they would leave for home.