Clad in combat gear, Spec. 4 Hollie Vallance cradled her newborn daughter in her arms one last time, finding it hard to say goodbye.

"I love you. . . . Take care of her," she told her civilian husband, Anthony Kirk, as she handed 7-week-old Cheyenne to him.The sight of soldiers leaving their families was common at Fort Benning this week as the Army's 197th Infantry Brigade began moving out to join the U.S. forces in the Middle East. But for Vallance, a 21-year-old medic, the farewell was especially poignant.

"It happens," was all she could say, her voice breaking up as she held Cheyenne, her first child, to her chest Thursday.

She stood for a final few minutes beside her husband, hardly speaking, her head pressed against his shoulder. This was not the first time they had gone through this. Early Sunday, she had left for Savannah, only to return the next day because the ship taking her to Saudi Arabia was filled up.

It didn't look any easier the second time. As soldiers began to group on the lawn, she reluctantly placed her baby in her husband's arms.

Overwhelmed, Kirk struggled to explain his emotions. For the past two weeks, he and his wife had talked about this reversal of roles. He practiced feeding and changing diapers. She cleaned her gun and packed her bag, careful not to bend the photographs of Cheyenne.

Kirk, a 27-year-old employee of Royal Crown Cola in Columbus, plans to return to Galien, Mich., the couple's hometown, where his mother will help him care for the infant. Meantime, he will depend on Kari Stewart and Toni Vazquez, both mothers whose husbands are medics in the battalion.

Mrs. Vazquez said she can sympathize with Ms. Vallance because she was separated from her infant son for three months in 1985.

"How can I explain it?" Mrs. Vazquez said. "It's like - you're pregnant for nine months. You've waited all this time for this chance, and then this chance is ripped out of your arms. Basically, I cried the whole time."

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As the buses full of soldiers began to roll out, Kirk gathered his child in his arms and followed the crowd that surged to the curb. Howitzers boomed a salute, and the band struck up the tune "Dogface Soldier."

Soldiers could be seen dimly through the bus windows, their faces pressed to the glass.

Kirk, his eyes welling up, strained to see his wife, but with no luck.

He could only hope she had seen them.

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