CREDIT: Zach Cordner, National Post

Roberta Patterson, embracing her son Daniel as he steps off a ship to finish his tour of Iraq, said she and husband, Dave, made the trip from Newcastle, Ont., to California because they wanted to witness their son's homecoming. "I want to see he's got 10 fingers and 10 toes, the same thing you want to see in the delivery room," she said.

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CAMP PENDLETON, Calif. - Everyone is ready. Little girls twirl in freshly ironed dresses making their skirts flare out. Mothers jiggle squirming babies in strollers, their eyes trained on the spot they expect the troops to emerge.

Yellow ribbons are tied around palm trees. The parking lot where families are waiting for U.S. Marines to come home from Iraq is awash with handmade homecoming signs, U.S. flags and red, white and blue balloons.

One mother clutches a Canadian flag. Roberta Patterson is scanning the crowd for her son Daniel, one of the few Canadians who fought in Iraq.

"I can't wait to see him," murmurs his father, Dave, as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He has an open bottle of champagne tucked under his left arm and places his thumb over the plastic cork to keep it from popping prematurely.

Corporal Daniel Patterson signed up with the U.S. Marines when he was 17 and not yet finished high school in Oshawa, Ont. Though he is a Canadian, he has dual citizenship because his mother is American.

The U.S. Department of Defense cannot say for sure how many Canadians took part in Operation Iraqi Freedom as dual citizens, but Mr. Patterson can name a handful.

His son served with the 3rd Amphibious Assault Battalion, 1st Marine Division, on the front lines. He landed in the Middle East as part of an advance party and was one of the first soldiers to cross the border into Iraq from Camp Coyote in Kuwait.

Just 20 years old, Cpl. Patterson has fought more battles than some soldiers twice his age. He is not yet old enough to buy beer in California, but the United States let him carry three guns.

His first battle was the vicious fight for Basra airport. One of his closest friends died on April 1 as they fought their way toward Baghdad.

Cpl. Patterson was there when Iraqis toppled the now-famous statue of Saddam Hussein. (He kept a piece of Saddam's leg for a while, but was not allowed to bring it home.)

He left Camp Pendleton, 60 kilometres north of San Diego, for Iraq in January. He arrived home on Thursday aboard the USS Cleveland a corporal, after getting a "meritorious" promotion overseas.

He asked his family not to come to California for his return, saying they should save their money because he plans to visit Ontario in a few weeks.

But his mother wouldn't hear of it. She had promised her son she would be there when he stepped off the ship, so she and her husband decided to surprise him. They drove from Newcastle, Ont., to Windsor, picked up their daughter, Trish, and flew to Los Angeles from Detroit.

"I want to get my hands on him," the mother said as she packed for the trip. "I want to see he's got 10 fingers and 10 toes, the same thing you want to see in the delivery room."

The family arrived in the parking lot at 6 a.m., armed with a plastic yellow rose, flags and a homemade sign bearing Cpl. Patterson's boot camp graduation photo.

The first Marines arrive about four hours later. Families surge through the lot in a mad search for their loved ones, but Cpl. Patterson is not among them.

The wait seems interminable. Mr. Patterson pushes as close as he can to the edge of the parking lot and strains to see down the street. The champagne cork keeps popping. He keeps pushing it back in.

His son's company is the last to arrive. Cpl. Patterson does not notice his family running alongside him as he marches to the middle of the parking lot in desert fatigues. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing a maple leaf tattoo on his right arm.

Then he turns. He sees them and smiles broadly. His mother rushes forward, then his arms are around her, burying his face in her neck. His shoulders heave as he cries. Mr. Patterson douses them both in champagne and joins in.

Cpl. Patterson falls back into formation for roll call, soaking wet and wiping his eyes. His father uses the time to ask Staff Sergeant Nathan Braswell for the details of his son's promotion; Cpl. Patterson has revealed few of the details.

"In comparison to his peers, he just soared. He stuck out the most," Sgt. Braswell says.

Only four solders out of about 1,200 in the battalion got meritorious promotions, he adds.

When he is finally released for four days' leave, Cpl. Patterson takes a seat on bleachers set up for waiting families and tries to collect his thoughts.

"No one wants a war, but I think it was definitely something that needed to be done," he says. He believes the invasion was justified even if weapons of mass destruction are never found. "If they sent me back tomorrow, I'd go, no regrets."

Fingering a tattered logbook held together with duct tape, he recalls the day before he crossed the border into Iraq.

"We didn't know what to expect," he says. "I'm not going to lie. I was pretty scared. Not scared for what I was about to face, but scared about the people I might leave behind."

One of his superiors gave him a piece of advice he remembered during the toughest moments of the war: The only wrong decision is the decision you're not going to make.

Cpl. Patterson lived by those words. After U.S. troops took over the airport in Basra, he spent three weeks "punching and moving" on the road to Baghdad, scratching off the days on a calendar in his logbook after exhausting firefights.

One of the toughest moments came when his friend was killed by artillery that hit his armoured personnel carrier along the way. It pains him to recall the memory.

But the war also offered moments of hope. After one arduous battle outside Baghdad's Palestine Hotel, which he was guarding, he sat down to collect his thoughts.

Two Iraqi boys shyly approached and spoke to him in broken English. Then they handed him a yellow flower. That moment, Cpl. Patterson says, reminded him of what he was fighting for.

It took two months to come home by ship. The trip gave him time to think. He struggled to calm his mind and not replay the whole experience or recall the split-second decisions he made during combat.

He has decided not to re-enlist after his final year with the Marines is up. He will be only 21, he points out, and wants to go to college or travel.

Right now, his parents are glad he's home. Mr. Patterson wipes his eyes as he prepares to leave the parking lot with his son.

"It's been the worst four months of my life, not knowing if he was going to come back dead or alive," he says, his voice breaking.

mvallis@nationalpost.com