MUQDADIYAH, Iraq — It was the first break for Havoc Platoon in 15 months, but the howling wind and blowing dust threatened to stretch it out longer than they would have liked.

"Nothing is certain," said platoon leader 2nd Lt. Nicholas Kane, a statement that summed up a day of delayed flights and shifting plans.

For 15 months, Havoc Platoon and the rest of the 2nd Stryker Cavalry Regiment have been fighting their way across Iraq, dodging sniper fire, grieving for fallen friends and, more recently, working with local Iraqis in the hopes of making their gains against the insurgency stick.

Now they are heading home.

Havoc Platoon is part of 2nd Stryker’s 3rd Squadron, a group that lost 12 soldiers. The soldiers ride in the regiment’s namesake vehicle, an eight-wheeled, heavily armed behemoth that looks like a mix between a tank and the amphibious "Ducks" used in World War II.

They’ve battled house-to-house in Baghdad, where even fire extinguishers were suspected bombs, and through the long sandy stretches and mud hut towns of rural Diyala province.

Most agree that six months at Normandy, a rough-hewn outpost with crumbling brick buildings and bat-filled skies each night, is more than enough, and a group of soldiers break into a rendition of "Leaving on a Jet Plane" when talking about their pending departure.

For now, they fight boredom, packing up and waiting to get back to a home that for many will be very different from the one they left. Soldiers lay on cots, read, and pack the last of their gear hoping to get to their home base of Vilseck, Germany, soon. Bad weather has delayed flights and threatened to push back their arrival in Germany.

"If I don’t stay busy, then the mind starts wondering," said Staff Sgt. Michael Vculek. "It’s a lot worse than actually being [on patrol]. You have time to sit down and start thinking about the things you’ve done, what you’re going to do when you get back, all the things you’ve seen."

A weary pride ripples through the platoon, with soldiers confident their efforts in the slums of Baghdad and towns in the heart of the Sunni Triangle improved security and brought a semblance of normalcy to war-torn areas.

"It was all a pain in the ass, but it made a difference," said Spc. Thomas McCready, 23.

With little to do for now but wait, a group of Havoc soldiers drop stained, ripped and otherwise unsalvageable uniforms and other forlorn gear into a metal burn barrel, lest they fall into the hands of insurgents.

Afterward they sit around the fire on a dusty patch of ground, smoke cigarettes and swap war stories, jokes and a litany of tales of relationships torpedoed by war and infidelity.

In fact, out of the group of seven soldiers, three are divorced or getting divorced, one’s on the rocks with his fiancée and another is estranged from his daughter’s mother. The details are devastating, but there’s a solidarity to the nakedly honest stories, all told with a laugh.

All the soldiers have plans — some solid, some vague. But after 15 months away, home feels like more of a theory than a reality.

Spc. Brandon Ward, 24, of New Orleans, wants to go back to Louisiana and attend college when his Army contract is up in a year. Ward, compact and muscle-bound with a shaved head, said he wants to study to be a personal trainer. Since he left for Iraq, his friends back in Louisiana have either moved away or lost touch. He served time in prison for battery before his tour and says that it’s probably better he doesn’t hook up with his old crowd.

"I’ll just start over and make new friends," he said with a shrug.

Away from the burn barrel pow-wow, Staff Sgt. Stephen Crow is dreaming of seeing his wife, Sara, and two children, who live in Seattle. But Crow, 26, will have to wait. His wife grew up in the United States but is still a citizen of Cambodia, complicating her travel and making her unable to greet him in Germany.

Crow said he’s proud of the work he and his fellow soldiers did in Iraq, but he can’t wait to be done.

"I’m definitely not going to miss this place," he said.