COLUMN ONE : Shock Sets In as the Cheers End : Despite public support and a swift victory, troops coming home find adjustments difficult. Wartime memories, sexual and financial problems turn joy into bitterness.

Sgt. Randy Clark’s wife and 4-year-old daughter made his return to Langley Air Force Base in Virginia last month an ecstatic homecoming--with an emotional airport welcome and then a party with some 30 neighbors and friends.

But eight days later, the cheering had stopped and Clark and his wife Marcy had agreed on a separation. “The excitement lasted about a week,” he says, “and then we were left with the same old marital problems.” His wife and daughter will soon move to Arizona.

In the month since victorious American troops began returning from the Persian Gulf, they have been showered with praise and parades as have few armies in history. But readjustment has brought heartaches, as well: Spouses still angry that they were left alone. Others who--more unnervingly--didn’t mind separation much at all. Children who didn’t understand why they were abandoned. Searing wartime memories. Boredom. Sexual problems.

For some reservists, there also are financial problems: They must rebuild businesses and professional practices that they had to abandon when they were called up.

Because the Gulf War was so brief and U.S. casualties were relatively light, the adjustment for most of today’s returning soldiers will be mild compared to those of some earlier wars. Still, even with those advantages, the return will be a shock for many.

“When you’ve been psyched up by a big victory and a hero’s welcome, these realities can hit you extra hard,” says Maj. Kathy Platoni, an Army reserve psychologist who has been studying the problems of the returning troops.

Army Spec. Timothy Cumings, 24, is an example. Cumings returned from the Gulf on March 15, traumatized by standing guard duty during Iraqi Scud missile attacks and having to undergo training--for naught, as it turned out--to place dead soldiers into body bags for shipment home.

“Over and over, I kept thinking, what would I do if I had to put a friend in one of those bags?” says Cumings, a Muncie, Ind., native who is assigned to a supply unit at Ft. Bliss, at El Paso, Tex. “What would I tell their families?”

Cumings says that his wife wants him to show affection openly and often but that he doesn’t want to talk or be touched. “She asks me what happened over there, and I say, ‘Nothing,’ “he concedes.

Cumings says that his wartime experience has cooled his sex life with his wife. And they spend a lot of time arguing--over what to eat for dinner, over what to do in their free time--”over everything.”

Like many GIs, he thinks that his wife may have become too independent during his absence. He wants to buy a car but she strongly opposes the idea.

“The fact is, I can’t adjust to this kind of life,” he says.

Strains produced by the war have been enough to destroy some marriages.

Army psychologist Platoni tells about a soldier who returned to Ft. Belvoir, Va., to find that his wife had emptied their apartment of all their possessions and disappeared with their car--though she was thoughtful enough to leave a spare house key with a neighbor.

Wartime separation apparently played some role in the marital troubles that allegedly led to the death of Spec. Anthony Riggs, who police say was gunned down in a Detroit street by his wife’s brother.

The story of Riggs, who was killed during his first 24 hours home, at first was publicized widely as an example of random urban violence. Closer investigation revealed that the victim, 22, and his wife, Toni Cato Riggs, 21, had had increasingly bitter fights during their separation.

According to the victim’s mother, his wife spent $8,000 of Riggs’ savings, demolished his car and greeted his return to Ft. Bliss with a demand for a divorce and $500 a month in alimony. Finally, police allege, she persuaded her brother to gun her husband down.

The reunions that are so joyful for most can also be bitter for already troubled couples.

One separated mother recently told James Cones, chief psychologist at Ft. Lee, Va., of her apprehensions about bringing her children to be reunited with their father.

“She knew it would be a horror,” Cones says. “She knew he would ignore her--he probably wouldn’t even look at her--to make it clear there was no chance of them getting back together. That would make it all the more painful for the kids and for her.”

Public Support

The adjustments of GIs returning from the Gulf conflict will be easier than those of other recent wars, in part because Operation Desert Storm enjoyed wide public support and ended quickly and victoriously.

Their readjustment “will be helped by the knowledge that they were part of a great lyric moment,” says Charles Moskos, a military sociologist at Northwestern University. “They have stepped into history. It will become a defining moment in their lives.”

But demographic factors may make the statistics paint a gloomier picture. About 50% of the GIs involved in the war are married, compared to only 20% in the Vietnam era, so proportionally more are likely to encounter marital problems.

And today’s military also has a far-higher proportion of single parents, who have been forced to turn over their children to relatives or other guardians.

The military, remembering how jarring homecomings scarred many Vietnam veterans, has been working for months on ways to ease the shock of re-entry into civilian society.

The Army has dispatched chaplains, social workers and psychologists to the Gulf to brief the troops on what to expect when they get home. And the Navy has been airlifting counselors onto returning ships before they dock.

Army doctors have drafted an 85-page manual to guide counselors on how to ease the troops’ concerns. “We try to inoculate them against anxiety, by telling them: ‘Don’t expect life to go back to normal--too much has changed,’ ” says Col. Calvin Neptune, a social work consultant to the Army surgeon-general.

But it doesn’t always work. Counselors say that even couples who make a largely successful readjustment face some complications.

When Air Force Maj. Jane Bush went to the Persian Gulf as an aircraft maintenance officer, she left a 10-year-old son, a 4-year-old daughter and an irate husband--an F-16 fighter pilot--who felt he should have gone as well.

“His duties now don’t require him to fly,” Bush says, “but with my going, he felt: ‘This isn’t right.’ It was awkward.”

Bush says that the family’s reunion at Langley Air Force Base was “just as warm and wonderful and inspiring as you’d expect.” But a few days later, after the couple came through their first spat, her husband said he was glad the glow of the return finally had passed.

The moments of perfect harmony were nice, he thought, but somewhat unnatural for day-to-day family life, Jane Bush says. “Things couldn’t stay rosy forever,” she says. “It was good we put all of that behind us.”

Air Force Staff Sgt. John Calvao, 31, of New Bedford, Mass., says that he realized when he got back home that he had missed his wife even more than he thought. But he adds that becoming half of a couple again required some readjustment.

In Saudi Arabia, “I was used to having moments of privacy, basically doing everything my way,” Calvao recalls. Now he has to share the bathroom again and sometimes compromise with his wife on how to spend time, even on what they’ll have for dinner.

Military counselors are making a special point to warn returning soldiers that their expectations for sex may be different than those of their spouses.

“Couples who have been intimate in their thoughts shouldn’t assume it will be an easy transition to the intimacy of sex,” says Pat Johnson, a counselor with the Navy Family Services Center at the U.S. Naval Station in Norfolk, Va.

In its briefing paper on reunions, the Army’s Community and Family Support Center counsels: “Re-establish your sexual relationship slowly. You can’t make up for lost time in a single night.”

The guidebook also advises male soldiers not to cross-examine their wives on whether they were faithful during separation--and urges wives not to “poke around in his belongings looking for clues” to infidelity.

“Questioning your mate about infidelity can only destroy the trust between the two of you,” it says.

Some military couples are also struggling to help their children adjust.

Bush’s 11-year-old son, Justin, took her absence very hard, perhaps partly because he found it difficult to talk about his feelings, his mother recalls. Gradually, his grades began to slip.

But counseling provided at his school helped visibly, she says, as did the release provided by Justin’s karate classes. Since Bush returned, the family baby-sitter has noticed an important change: Justin is humming to himself again, for the first time in a long while.

“She said it was like a light bulb had gone on,” Bush says.

Though experts believe this war won’t leave many cases of the post-traumatic stress disorder that troubled so many Vietnam veterans, they still see many returnees suffering less-severe psychological strains.

In interview after interview, GIs relate how they are still jolted by sounds and sights that remind them of Gulf dangers--fire alarms, backfiring automobiles and shooting stars that look like incoming Scud missiles. Some complain that such shocks leave them sleepless or in cold sweats.

Some experts predict that returning GIs may feel some slight envy or resentment from colleagues who did not go overseas. “I think some people felt guilty that they weren’t sent over and now they feel worse to see all these heroes’ welcomes,” says the Army’s Maj. Platoni. “I feel that way--I don’t feel as good about myself knowing that I didn’t go over,” she concedes.

Some of the “shocks” that returning GIs are experiencing are easier to get used to.

Air Force Sgt. Barbara Tibbs was delighted to get away from the primitive toilets of the Middle East to the more conventional one that she had used at home. “I just flushed it and flushed it,” she recalls. “This was my best moment.”

Some soldiers say that they found it unnerving--after the tightly controlled life in the Gulf--to return to a life where they have to make choices--even about simple things, such as what to have for dinner or which direction to drive their cars.

“It seems crazy, but the idea you could get in your car and turn right or left, and order a hamburger or a cheeseburger--it’s a real adjustment,” Calvao says.

If the war made stateside life seem unfamiliar, it didn’t have much financial impact for most active-duty GIs. Indications are that salaried reservists are being treated well by their civilian employers, who are required by law to hold their job slots open for them during their absence.

A survey of 350 employers by William M. Mercer Inc., a New York-based pay and benefits consultant, found that four of every five were going beyond the requirements of the law to help reservists, sometimes providing continuing pay and benefits.

Costly Absences

However, the return of the first wave of GIs already has made clear that many reservists who operate small businesses or professional practices have been seriously hurt by their enforced absences.

Jack Chitwood, a physician who was commander of the 286-member 217th Medical Evacuation Hospital of the Texas National Guard, left a small but healthy orthopedic practice in Abilene, Tex., when he was sent to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, last Dec. 27.

Chitwood says that his departure put such a dent in his practice that he is considering declaring personal bankruptcy and returning to active duty. “Now I’d say the practice is marginal,” Chitwood says.

Chitwood fears that a number of reservist physicians could be forced out of business. The experience has been tough enough that many physicians have decided they won’t re-enlist when their current reserve obligation is up.

Because 70% of the military’s medical personnel are reservists, “We’re really concerned,” Chitwood says.