The homemade Rice Krispies treats were brick-hard by the time Jerry Colley received them by mail in Vietnam.

He hit the slab hard enough to break off a bite. For a few minutes, he could taste home and imagine his nieces making them for him, a world away from his post as an Army payroll clerk.

Renne Hannans Henry/AJC (ENLARGE)

A group of veteran friends sent a local National Guardsman care packages for encouragement and gratitude.

Renee Hannans Henry/AJC (ENLARGE)

Bob Spidel (left), a retired Army colonel, and Robert Jones, who was an Army lieutenant, reflect on how they felt when receiving care packages while on active duty.

Courtesy of Facebook.com (ENLARGE)

Franklin

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"I put that stuff in my mouth and let it melt — eventually," Colley recalls with a big smile. "My all-time favorite candy ... a little slice of home."

That memory from 40 years ago, and what didn't happen when he got back, spurred Colley and four fellow veterans to assemble a series of care packages for a local soldier serving in Iraq.

His name is almost all they know about him.

His identity doesn't really matter.

More important is what's inside the box, they explained last week as they packed their third one.

In went emblems of what they carried over the years from combat, of memories of what they needed and what they got.

This is their way of reaching out to the current version of themselves in a desert 7,000 miles away.

Little things mean a lot

Bob Spidel, 57, of Grayson, a retired Army colonel, sends baby wipes and zippable plastic bags, to keep out the thick, dark desert dust.

Also, gum and sunflower seeds for the local kids and Iraqi soldiers.

Candy and little stuff are important in winning hearts and minds, he knows from his service in the Gulf War (December 1990 to August 1991), and Operation Iraqi Freedom (2003 to 2004) — and from 21 years based in Germany.

"The lasting impression for many people in Germany was of an American GI [after World War II] giving away chocolate," said Spidel.

He saw the power of that care returned.

When the value of the dollar plunged so badly during the 1970s, he watched local Germans deliver food and sundries to his base, to thank American soldiers.

"You certainly wouldn't see those packages without schnapps, and beer and wine as well," Spidel said.

He believes guilt over the mistreatment of Vietnam vets sparked a flood of care packages during the Persian Gulf War, marked "To Any Soldier."

"I'm still writing Christmas cards to several people who sent me packages then who I've never met in person," he says.

"I get emotional about this. You see a lot of kids who are 18, 19, 20 with not much family or anyone to talk to, and it's nice to think that someone back [in America] gives a damn."

A party in every package

Robert Jones, 65, of Atlanta packed smoked oysters, pecans and "Wash Pot Style Pork Cracklins."

"[With Iraq] being an Islamic country, no one's making pork rinds over there," he says. "So I got two bags."

He served as an Army first lieutenant and battery executive officer (1969-1970). He is from a long line of soldiers and remembers sitting on the knee of his great-grandfather, a Confederate War veteran.

He has heard Army rations now include "teeny bottles of Tabasco," but for extra seasoning, he tossed in Highway 80 Hot Sauce.

The glass bottle reminded him of the first package he got in Vietnam.

"The funniest thing was a jar of artichoke hearts that didn't make it. You can imagine what that looked like," he said. "We salvaged the rest of the box — salami, things like that."

The goodies from home can also serve as combat currency. His soldiers traded treats for duty. He used them to reward enlisted men.

For the box headed to Iraq, he also brought a summer sausage. One of his troops in Vietnam would get such items from a deli back home.

"We shared everything with each other. Whenever someone got a care package, it was like a little party."

"It takes you out of where you are for a brief moment," he said. "Anything that takes you out of that misery and danger puts you closer to the real world ..."

Home was even described in grocery terms: "The Land of the Big P/X."

But when he got back there, to a base near San Francisco, his suntan and haircut made him a target for protesters.

For those on the go

Jerry Newsom, 63, of Hoschton brought 24 small packets of cashews and almonds — what anyone on the go would need.

From the time he landed on the beach in Vietnam with the Marines — most troops flew — he was on the move (July 1965 to August 1966).

"Way back in the jungle," he said of his days as a corporal leading an infantry squad, "we didn't get care packages. We were lucky to get C-rations. They dropped us water from a helicopter."

The packing from C-rations became their stationery, letters home scrawled on box tops.

This day, Newsom is the only Marine filling the box. He measures the project's importance: "I'm even sending one to an Army guy!"

"In Vietnam, I never would have gotten one anyway," he teases his friends. "Because the Army would have siphoned it off!"

Friends for life

Wayne Kise, 60, of Lilburn brought individually packed trail mix and cheese crackers. It's a small way of honoring a powerful network of loyal ties.

Kise never saw combat, but relationships formed during wartime shaped the rest of his life.

He got a coveted spot in the Georgia Army National Guard (1969 to 1975) based in Douglasville.

His company commander brought him into a real estate development firm in Midtown, where he became the controller. Colley was the treasurer.

"A lot of good friends came from my unit," says Kise, who now works as a CPA.

His past service taught him that what is given today often returns tomorrow, with interest.

Snacks included.

'Thank you for serving'

Colley, 63, of Lilburn put Rice Krispies treats in the box — only these were store-bought, a small symbol of all that has changed since he served.

He arrived and left Vietnam on consecutive Thanksgivings (1968 and 1969). He pretty much put the war behind him.

In the 1990s, he met the most famous Vietnam veteran from Georgia: then-U.S. Sen. Max Cleland, who gave him a big hug and thanked him for serving.

"He was the first person who ever said that to me," says Colley, growing misty-eyed.

"This [care package] is my little way of telling a soldier thank you for serving."

Colley would put more items in the box, but he's paying for shipping costs.

At the end of their meeting in Tucker — they've gathered for breakfast at Matthews Cafeteria on Main Street for years — he headed to the post office.

He addressed the package to Staff Sgt. Morris Franklin, 40, of Smyrna, an Army reservist.

The two have never spoken or seen each other.

Colley is CEO of the Bicycle Ride Over Georgia, and Franklin's job at Coca-Cola was to supply beverages for that and other community events.

Colley got an e-mail last year from Franklin, informing him of his deployment to Iraq and replacement at Coke.

Business turned personal for Colley.

"I know this guy over in Iraq ..." he told his veteran friends over their regular breakfast.

The care package project was a response so natural that no one remembers whose idea it was.

Last week, on the day Colley mailed the third box to Franklin, he left Iraq for home. But he gave instructions for his replacement to open the box and give out the goodies.

For these veterans, that was just as it should be.

Whoever opens the box is someone they already recognize.

NOTES FROM IRAQ

Morris Franklin, 40, of Smyrna is an Army reservist who since last April has served on the Provincial Reconstruction Team in Baghdad, helping rebuild the Iraqi economy.

He re-enlisted in 2005 after 16 years as a civilian. At 39, he completed Airborne school. While in Iraq, he re-upped for another three years in the Reserve.

Franklin notes how touching it is to get packages from people he's never met.

SOLDIER'S RESPONSE

My connection to other veterans is one of the motivating factors in my military service, as I honor their past service with my current service.

That connectedness is always there ... but to be able to evidence it in a tangible way through a care package is very difficult to describe in words. Fellow veterans understand from the heart, as no civilian completely can, what our respective military services mean to both ourselves and each other. To have support from Jerry and the other veterans is rare in a way, just because there are many more non-veterans than veterans.

When people send care packages, it is a very personal effort which shows support for the troops, regardless of politics.

Send what you think the person would like. Make the contents a surprise! Make (them) personal — by including a card or a homemade food item. I always liked magazines. Books and movies are good too, because they can be shared after use. Balance healthy snacks with candy/treats. On certain food items, recognize the seasonal climate where you are sending the care package to — i.e., "chocolate season" is winter season in Iraq.

Cards and e-mails are always welcome. Cards are special, because you can see the person's handwriting. I saved every card I received in Iraq, to look back on later.

Support from home for the troops is an American wartime tradition, and it's part of what makes our country great. Please find a way to be directly active in this endeavor.

— E-mail from Morris Franklin in Iraq