Can you describe how you felt coming home from a deployment or combat?

Blessed, lost, and a little angry. Worried about those left behind. I have deployed to different places through my career, my last being to Afghanistan, recalled to active duty after 911, and deploying fairly quickly. I have deployed before, but this return was different. Maybe being older, and also coming back home by myself. Ironically my last combat mission was knarly and ironically, I wasn't scheduled since I was supposed to leave the next day. It wasn't going well, and they asked me to fly. Of course, I said yes. I truly thought I wouldn't see home again. I think most everyone knows posting here how that feels.

I have to ask before or after being spat on?

Exhilarated, the flight crew really welcomed us home, but the best was getting back with my wife.

I got to the house and caught Jody in the room with my wife trying to slip out my bedroom window. I don't remember how I felt, all I remember was seeing red.

Partially glad to be home, but also sad and overwhelmed. Sometimes I miss deployment where things were simplified, eat, sleep, gym, work, and stay alive.... but that is also the viewpoint of someone who is used to high levels of anxiety and trauma. Though I work through these issues daily, the feelings are still there.

When I returned from 3 weeks in Phase 3 of SFOC 1-78, I had a room in Moon Hall that I had kept. The first two nights, I slept with my poncho liner in the shrubs (very cold). Then I kept the windows open in the room for one more night.

I returned to the U.S. confused, depressed, and anxious. My mother and younger sister both said that I came home "different" and not in a good way. They even said that I smelled different (stunk). I'd left the U.S. rather idealistic and naïve and returned a realist, knowing that the world was not as good as I had thought it to be when I voluntarily joined the U.S. Army. Later, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress and Major Depressive Disorders. Even with many years of treatment and prescriptions of psychotropic medications, I still struggle with these disorders.

Celebrate with family as I am veteran and my uncle who pasted was a 20 year man.

Well, times and attitudes have changed a lot since I came home from my first Vietnam deployment. I was stationed at a B-52 base in the Michigan UP so we were a bit sheltered and the locals completely understood the importance of the base to their community so 'tolerated' us. However because our first child was born 3 months before I left for that deployment we used our leave to drive back to my home so that my parents could see their first grandchild. Of course the family completely understood my mission in Vietnam but that wasn't the case with many of the friends I had grown up with. The military wasn't extremely popular to start with and when they heard I'd been flying B-52 missions the baby killer looks and comments were all to apparent and made. I broke off with several of my long time friends on that trip and have had no contact since.

We left the green zone on a Chinook to fly to BIAP at about 2AM. It was a short, routine flight. A couple of minutes into the flight I heard the gunner on the back ramp firing off the .50. I look out the back and saw tracers coming up, but they were behind our aircraft so I closed my eyes and leaned my head back to rest my eyes.
Later that day we left BIAP and flew into Kuwait. We were there for a few days waiting to manifest before we were sent through the customs checkpoint operated by the Navy. What a bunch of uptight, self-important assholes. From there, we were locked down for 12 hours before we got on our World Air flight back to the states. We had about 300 people all of whom were going back to Fort Campbell except 3 Colonels who were going to Forbes Field, Topeka, KS.
We were pretty exhausted after 15 months down range, but most of us were too excited to rest on the flight. We had our first layover in Shannon, Ireland. We had to deplane while the ground crew did maintenance but all we could do was wait in the terminal. No alcohol because we still fell under GO 1 which prohibited everything from Playboy/Playgirl magazine to any alcohol at all. After a few long hours there, we left for Bangor, Maine. We landed at just before midnight. We were greeted by several dozen USO volunteers who cheered us on and welcomed us home. I felt proud but so tired. We had been up for close to 40 hours at this time, not counting occasional cat naps here and there.
We left Bangor after a couple of hours headed for what we expected to be a three hour flight to Campbell. No dice. Those 3 Colonels got priority, and we bypassed Campbell to make sure they got back to Kansas quickly. Rumor had it that they had just completed an arduous 5 month fact-finding tour in Kuwait and Qatar, but who knows. We landed in Kansas, deplaned the brass and attempted to get back in the air. Murphy doesn’t just apply in combat. The auxiliary power unit needed to start the plane failed and nobody could reach the Air National Guardsman with access to an operational APU so we were delayed another 2-3 hours. In the meantime freezing rain began to fall, they had to retrieve de-icing equipment…more delay. After more than 4 hours on the tarmac, we finally started our final leg back to Campbell and freedom and family. 3 hours later we landed, more than 48 hours since the journey thru customs had begun.
We taxied to just outside a hangar. We deplaned and formed up to march into the hangar and see our families. I remember it as clearly as a dream. 7am, a dark December morning with gray clouds overhead. It was chilly and damp. We could see the light from the hangar and the flags hanging from the rafters, and the families holding signs, waving flags. The band played patriotic music, and the cheers were deafening as we entered the hangar. Tears filled my eyes. I was joyous, relieved, proud, and exhausted physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually all at the same time. I also thought about the ones who didn’t make it home. I was with a hospital unit. We only lost one of ours, but had seen far too many soldiers, marines, and host country nationals die. I felt like I had aged far more than the 15 months in Iraq. I also thought about the Vietnam vets who didn’t get the reception we did. I felt a touch of guilt for that too.
I know this was long and rambling, but I think the feelings can’t be fully separated from the experience. For those who have had the experience of coming back, welcome home. For those who never had the chance, may God bless you and grant your soul rest.