Maj. Baldwin and I both walked from our respective vehicles, merging as we walked down the dirt slope toward the tiny cement hooch and the brick wall that surrounded it. We passed through an opening in the wall and a couple of soldiers were standing around with their IBAs, blouses and covers off. They watched us approaching with vague concern. Typically, no one with a rank over lieutenant would ever come to these positions.

"Can I help you, sirs?" a young soldier asked, somewhat anxiously.

"We're combat stress," I answered.

"Oh," he sighed, relieved, and added, "Hang on a second, sirs." With that he leaned inside the doorless little hooch and yelled, "Hey guys. Everybody out, combat stress is here."

One by one, each of the seven or eight guys trickled out, each with only their boots, pants and T-shirts on. None of them were carrying a weapon. A few were scratching their heads and rubbing their eyes as if they had just gotten up. They gathered just outside the doorway around the major and me. I took off my Kevlar and held it by the strap in my left hand.

I began to give my speal. "Hey guys, we don't want ... " and then, "BOOOOOM!" A loud explosion went off up on the road above us. Then the machine guns started in, "Bra-ba-ba-ba-ba, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!" There was a brief pause for us all as we stood there. Maybe it was only a second, maybe less, but it was there, then chaos.

CPT Jeff Leonard is an occupational therapist in civilian life and serves as a mental health counselor with an Army Infantry battalion in Iraq. He writes a blog for McClatchy newspapers, and gives some interesting insights into what goes on there.

The rest of the article is worth reading.