After more than a year in Iraq, Wednesdays felt like Saturdays – and Sundays, and Thursdays…. After more than a year in Iraq, Wednesdays felt like Saturdays – and Sundays, and Thursdays. After a while, U.S. Army Specialist Mike Schwartz just stopped caring what day it was altogether.

“You get into what’s commonly referred to as the ‘thousand yard stare,'” Schwartz told a group of his peers and fellow Pitt students at the Hillel Jewish University Center Tuesday night.

“The days really blend until it’s just a long cycle of light and dark. Things just don’t matter. It didn’t matter what day of the week it was, it was always just another day in Baghdad.”

Schwartz spent 15 months in Iraq and four years deployed on active duty in various parts of the world with the Army.

Now 24 and a sophomore at Pitt, he told students about his experiences and the profound effect his deployment had on his life and his connection with the Jewish faith.

Schwartz, who grew up in Allentown, Pa., knew his decision to join the Army was the right one.

“I’m sure people wonder why a nice Jewish kid from the suburbs would join the Army, but it was the first independent decision I made in my life, and to this day I’m proud of that.”

During his first few months of duty, Schwartz said he mainly “jumped out of planes and ran around in the woods – just fun stuff like that,” but he was soon transferred to Germany and then on to Kuwait City.

“Kuwait City was probably the most surreal place I’ve ever been in my life,” he said. “At night it might as well have been daylight because the whole sky was lit up by oil fires.”

When the call to transfer to Baghdad came, his unit was sent to an area called Al-Zawra, formerly a park and zoo owned by Saddam Hussein.

Initially, his assignments were all humanitarian efforts with very little military action.

In Al-Zawra, Schwartz’s unit worked to reconstruct almost the entire sanitary system for Baghdad and restore the city to a healthier, more livable condition.

He found the relief efforts his unit performed both frustrating and gratifying.

“They were never really content with what we could give them,” he said. “Because we were the big American powerhouse, they expected us to be able to give them everything and we couldn’t.”

Still, he said, the Iraqi people made his job worthwhile.

“The people were fantastic. These people, that had almost nothing, put themselves in a position of unnecessary hardship. They wouldn’t eat for days so they could plan a magnificent feast to show the Americans how they lived,” Schwartz said. “It was humbling to see them.”

In particular there was one Iraqi who made an indelible impression on Schwartz.

“We ran into an 11-year-old girl, and her situation – I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy,” he said.

The girl’s father had hired someone to kill her mother and the girl discovered the body in a pool of blood on their kitchen floor.

“She pretty much went comatose after that, basically until we showed up,” Schwartz said. “I wish I could have brought her back here with me. I couldn’t understand a word she said, and she barely spoke English, but there was a kind of understanding there.”

Nights in Baghdad were filled with the resounding crack of gunfire and fear of rocket-propelled grenades tearing through the roof of the barracks. Days were spent in unarmored Humvees carrying 8,000 pounds of missiles.

Somehow, in the midst of war, Schwartz found peace.

“It’s probably odd hearing it, but it was the most spiritual experience of the 24 years of my life,” he said. “It struck me as incredible that I was walking the same ground that 6,000 years ago my ancestors, your ancestors, would have walked on in their daily lives.”

When things got bad, it was this idea of faith that Schwartz and others clung to.

“There was, at one point, a plan in place to steal a couple of trucks and a whole lot of gasoline and drive across Syria,” Schwartz said. “Not a brilliant plan, but when you’re out in the sun that much, you start to get some crazy ideas.”

Beyond becoming more acutely aware of his own relationship with faith, however, Schwartz’s firsthand exposure to the fervor of insurgents taught him how committed they were to their cause.

“The first time I really realized how fanatical some people were was the day I watched a member of this militia group attack a 70 ton tank with a sword,” he said. “The people we were fighting were so crazed beyond belief, they’d do anything just to kill a few of us.”

Schwartz’s faith was tested yet again on Aug. 14, 2003, the hottest day on record during his time in Iraq, reaching 164 degrees.

Leading a caravan of Humvees through a deserted road, Schwartz caught a glimpse of wire spanning the lanes. But it was too late to do anything to avoid it.

When his group went back to investigate, they discovered they had crossed over an I.E.D. or Improvised Explosive Device.

“It had been wired to a pressure plate, and for one reason or another, it didn’t go off,” Schwartz said. “You always hear about people’s lives flashing before their eyes and it absolutely happened.

“It all happened in slow motion, and it was terrifying.”

After 15 months in Iraq, extended from the original 12 just weeks before his unit was set to leave, Schwartz’s unit of 1,500 soldiers left with two less than when they arrived.

Though he may not be on the front lines anymore, the war still claims a part of his spirit and the U.S. government still claims his body.

Schwartz has two years left on his contract as an Individual Ready Reserve. He thinks the chances are slim that he will be called and even slimmer that he will end up back in Iraq.

For now, he is content with Pittsburgh.