Serviceman and Iraqi wife caught in a paperwork prison

When David Bloom of Los Angeles shipped to Iraq in 2005 with the U.S. Army Reserves, the last thing he expected to find there was a wife. But the first time he set eyes on an Iraqi woman named Zee, who worked for U.S. forces as a translator, Bloom told a buddy he was going to marry her one day.

Marriage, as we know, can be a complicated undertaking. All the more so when international complexities and military rules are thrown in.

Here now, just in time for Memorial Day, is the saga of Sgt. Bloom, 41, and 24-year-old Zee, who asked that I not use her last name because of concerns about her family’s safety in Iraq.

Bloom, who grew up in Highland Park, began pasting American flag bumper stickers on his car after the attacks of Sept. 11. Even though he felt misled by the original justification for war, he believed some good could be accomplished in Iraq. So in 2003 he suited up with the U.S. Army Reserves, 425th Civil Affairs Battalion.

Bloom and his unit landed in Baghdad in June 2005 to build schools and soccer fields and help deliver healthcare to children. It was a dangerous time, he said, with plenty of casualties.

“You’re getting up every day wondering if these are the clothes you’re going to die in,” said Bloom, a former freelance journalist who now works in public relations for the Los Angeles County Fire Department.

He often videotaped his excursions, and toward the end of his deployment, Bloom asked a translator if she would help him translate interviews. That would be Zee.

There was no romance, the two now say, even though Bloom had feelings. She was beautiful, she supported the U.S. mission and risked her life to support it, using her pay to buy a home for her family. Zee had served in the Iraqi National Guard, which was extremely rare for women, and worked as a medic. She stayed on the U.S. base each night instead of going home; others had been followed and killed for being collaborators.

Bloom’s unit shipped back home in 2006 without him ever confessing his feelings for Zee, other than to promise he’d see her again. Back home, he couldn’t get her out of his head. He called as often as possible, and five months into it, Bloom told Zee he loved her.

“I wasn’t really shocked,” says Zee, who told him she loved him, too.

It took a full year for the paperwork to come through so they could meet in Turkey and marry; then Zee had to go back to Iraq and wait, agonizingly, for a visa to join Bloom in Los Angeles. But that wasn’t their only problem.

“Don’t you realize,” Bloom’s commander asked, “that you married a woman from a country we’re at war with?”

No he hadn’t, Bloom insisted. Saddam was gone and the war was against terrorists, not Iraq.

But Bloom was accused of failing to get clearance for the trip to Turkey. An investigating officer dug way back into his file and in early 2008, Bloom was accused of several infractions unrelated to his marriage, including the charge that he had skipped a training assignment.

Bloom denied any wrongdoing and suspected that in truth, the military was out to get him for marrying Zee. The investigator wrote in a report that although the marriage was not a violation of Army regulation, “that does not mean that his actions do not have serious consequences.”

“His marriage makes him potentially vulnerable to coercion, influence or pressure that may cause conduct contrary to the national interest,” the investigator added, saying that Zee and soldiers working with her could be at risk if she were targeted.

But she was already at risk, Bloom argued, simply for working with U.S. troops. Still, the allegations hung over Bloom for more than a year while he was separated from Zee. His right to transfer or promote was on hold, he couldn’t return to battle and he lost education benefits pending a hearing.

It was finally held last May, and in the worst scenario, Bloom could have been discharged. He was defended by a lawyer from Hawaii named Charles Djou, who, by chance, was sworn in last week as a Republican U.S. congressman.

The hearing lasted one day, and Bloom says that when it ended, he was high-fiving Djou in the hallway. A three-person panel cleared him of all charges, with one note; he was held partially responsible for miscommunication that led to missing a training program.

Just one lingering problem. A year has gone by since that hearing, and the paperwork clearing Bloom’s name has not yet been produced despite his efforts to have his restrictions officially lifted. A military spokesman told me the matter was private; no comment. Congressman Djou confirmed that Bloom had prevailed but told me he didn’t have clearance to talk further.

Six months ago, Zee finally got a spousal visa and moved to Los Angeles to be with Bloom. She’s studying to be a nurse, still has nightmares about the war and feels lucky to be able to walk freely down a street without fear. She said she is surprised, though, by the paperwork prisons we build here.

Last week, two days after I began making phone calls, Bloom said he’d been informed by a commander that his papers are about to come through. He said he’ll believe it when they’re in his hands.

“I did nothing wrong,” said Bloom. “I served my country and I married the woman I love.”

steve.lopez@latimes.com