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By Michelle Cuthrell, The News-Miner
It was around 8:30 p.m. and nearly 50 degrees below zero when one of those scary, late-night knocks sounded at my front door.
"May I help you?" I asked the man with the high-and-tight haircut standing staunchly on my front stoop, not really wanting to hear the answer.
"Yes, ma'am. Is Sgt. Lara available?" he asked.
With a sigh of relief that this man obviously wasn't a military injury informant, I unclenched my fists, smiled and replied, "No, I'm sorry. You have the wrong address."
Sgt. 1st Class Pete Lara is my neighbor--a man I've seen plenty of times kidding around on his four-wheeler on long summer nights, playing with his children in the front yard after work on short fall days.
I had heard that he'd been seriously injured in Iraq, and was recovering at Walter Reed Medical Facility in Washington, D.C., and was expected home any time. [...]