Mail call! For the first time since before the war began, mail from home (letters only, no packages) finally caught up with Alpha Company – and for the Marines, starved for news from home, it was a time of joy, laughter and, in at least one case, sorrow.

The Marines sat in the dirt in a dusty, fallow farm field within 10 miles of Baghdad, some reading snippets of letters aloud, others passing around the latest photos of children and family, some quietly retreating to a private inner place as they read their letters again and again. In the fading evening light, with the sound of artillery fire rumbling in the background, for a few moments the Marines stopped being men at war and became what most of them really are: young men, some not much more than boys, far from home, yearning for their moms and wives and sweethearts.

The news from home, all of which was at least three weeks old, didn't have to be big to be important.

Lance Cpl. Shawn Tate, 24, from Bartlesville, Okla., got a letter from his grandmother, explaining at length, as grandmas often

 do, how the weather at home has been. "That's OK," Tate said. "Any letter from home makes it like Christmas."

Pfc. Kevin Schutter, 22, of Waukegan, Ill., finally got a birthday card from his parents. His birthday was March 1.

"It doesn't feel like your birthday, because this is the first year we couldn't be together," his parents, Frits and Laurie Schutter, wrote.

Lt. Jason Angell, 30, of Brea, a California State University, Fullerton, graduate, got a letter from his girlfriend, Joni Propernick, 25, of Mission Viejo: "I can only imagine how it is for you right now," she wrote. "I'm concerned about your safety but I'm not panicking. ... You asked me not to worry and I'm doing just that. You're a lucky guy: You have a girlfriend who loves you AND listens to you.

"Be careful, Sweetie. Love, Joni."

Not all the news was good. One Marine got a month-old letter telling him of the death of a favorite aunt. Seeing the pain on his face, his buddies gathered around, all on one knee, to put comforting hands on his shoulders.

Some of the mail prompted laughter all around. Cpl. Johnny Daniel, 22, of Porterville, who like the other Marines in Alpha Company is stationed at Camp Pendleton, got a jury-duty summons from the county of San Diego; he was ordered to report March 20 and warned of dire penalties if he failed to show up.

"I don't think I'm going to make it," Daniel said, laughing. As for the possible penalty, Daniel was philosophical: "What are they gonna do? Shave my head and send me to Iraq?"

Even some of the Marines who didn't get letters this time got something, thanks to James and Kay Broaddus of Austin, Texas, parents of Lt. Jeff Broaddus. They sent along a bundle of letters from friends and family members, addressed to "Any Marine," for the lieutenant to pass out.

"I hope it brings you some encouragement to know that I am praying for you," Erin Porter of College Station, Texas, wrote to "Any Marine."

"It kind of makes you feel like you're doing something for America," Pfc. Timothy Pawloski, 22, of Bad Axe, Mich., said after reading Porter's letter.

"You can see what mail is doing for these Marines," Broaddus told a Register reporter. "They can fight another week now."

Maybe so. But mail for Marines hasn't been a priority in the supply chain – a subject of complaint among many Marines who have grown up with cell phones and e-mails and instant communication. All agree that "beans, bullets and water" have to take priority at the front – but even when they were in Kuwait, Marines found that packages mailed right after they left Camp Pendleton in early February still hadn't arrived by the time the war began – and haven't arrived since. The delay has deprived Marines of many things they want and need: baby wipes for cleaning – there is no water for showers or shaving here – cigarettes, snuff, candy.

But the Marine brass takes a pragmatic view. When complaints reached top commanders, the Marines in the rank-and-file were told to simply "suck it up."

The Marines did. But their faces when the mail finally arrived made it pretty clear that a lot of them would trade their beans, if not their bullets, for a single letter from home.