Snyder, 39, is one of the last nine men in his unit — part of the 25th Infantry Division (Light), Headquarters and Headquarters Company, 1st Battalion 21st Infantry Regiment "Gimlets" stationed at Kirkuk Air Base — to drop back into Hawai'i for a brief respite before returning to war half a world away.

His homecoming was a comfort for his family, a surprise for his two young children, and a moment when the needs of a world overtaken by war can be put aside for a simpler time of baking cookies, opening packages and singing carols that speak of peace on earth.

Errol Snyder, whose comrades affectionately call "Skullcrusher," checks the perimeter during a convoy stop in Kirkuk, Iraq. Richard Ambo • The Honolulu Advertiser

"This was a real gift, coming home for Christmas," said the rangy 235-pound, 6-foot-3 former drill sergeant, affectionately known in his unit as "Skullcrusher."

Yesterday's Christmas dinner would see 23 people arriving at his door, each bearing a piece of the feast. They were friends going back to other bases in Virginia, New York and Texas, where the family was stationed previously, plus a cousin stationed here.

"Over the years we've always brought in single soldiers," said Snyder's wife Amy, 34, a manager for the Outback Steakhouse in Waipi'o. "In the Army that's your family."

"It's been a long time," said Snyder, settling into an oversized loveseat in the living room at his Schofield Barracks home, his family crowded around him.

The best moment: "Just coming home through the airport and seeing the lights, the wreaths up, and then seeing our tree up already." He usually decorates the tree, but he was at least able to add one new ornament; it pictures Santa riding high over Kirkuk Air Base next to a radar dish.

A 20-year veteran who also saw service in the first Gulf War in 1991, Snyder said he has tried to stay "disconnected" from the war while he's at home. But he still found himself jumping when a car backfired at a stoplight.

Snyder considered not taking R&R — until he discovered that the 2nd Brigade Combat Team's tour had been extended through March.

"I wasn't going to take leave at first because I thought it would be too disruptive (for his family)," he said. "But after getting extended I wouldn't have turned it down for anything."

Kassidy has been glued to her father since his return, never more than a few steps — sometimes barely an inch — away from him, eyes alert to make sure he doesn't vanish. As the family gathers to talk to a reporter before embarking on late afternoon cookie-making and more decorating of two 4-foot trees in the children's rooms, Kassidy launches herself at her dad's legs, or snuggles in his arms.

"She wants to know where he is constantly," said Amy. When Dad headed off for a haircut, Kassidy anxiously asked where he was going, and when they passed the airport on the way, she turned worriedly to her father to see if it meant he was leaving again.

"I'm chopped liver now," said Amy. "Even when he's showering, she waits right outside the bathroom."

The children have changed much in the year their father has been gone. Tyler has grown six inches and gained glasses, making him a remarkable look-alike for a young Harry Potter. Kassidy's baby talk, meanwhile, has turned into understandable babble.

With a Web camera set up at home and constant e-mail, the Snyders have been able to keep in touch daily, and talk and see each other in real time. But still, Dad didn't get the real impact of how much the children have grown or what his son really looked like with his new glasses, until he walked into their waiting arms at the airport.

Snyder reconnects with them as much as his stamina will allow. On Dec. 12, the day he arrived, still jet-lagged from the three days of flights from Kirkuk to Kuwait to Dallas to Honolulu, Snyder nonetheless launched a game of hide-and-seek in the yard with Tyler. They ambushed each other from favorite hiding places. And Snyder pushed Kassidy on her tire swing.

His arrival was a catalyst that drew nearly every child in the neighborhood to the Snyders'.

"If there's a man around, they're all over him," said Amy. "We usually have a yard full and a house full."

The Army does a good job preparing families for the re-entry process, says Amy. Those close to it say the men are advised to act like guests in their own homes on the brief visits, and the families to treat their husbands and fathers that way as well. This is not the time to resolve old problems, or magically think that any other difficulties may have disappeared.

Snyder is wise to that and is trying to slip back into his family, however briefly, without creating a jarring presence. "The best way is just don't plan anything" he said. "Just enjoy the short time. Take it slow."

He has taken the Army's advice not to drive, and finds the at-home chores comforting though some may chafe at them as trivial after the drama of war. Even trimming the hedge felt good after months of bearing 90 pounds of armor, weapons and packs every day in Iraq.

"I try to give everyone their space because I have to go back and they have to go on with their lives," he says, praising Amy for how she carries on in his absence. "She got the tougher assignment. If they sent her over the Iraqis would be in trouble."

Amy Snyder is the in-charge wife who has a monthly get-together for other families in the command, and who has a strong support system of friends in her neighborhood. When she and her husband were able to take a night for themselves at the Hale Koa Hotel last weekend, close neighbors watched the children.

But it's clear that having dad at home has filled a void. Amy said she's now sleeping more soundly than she has for a year, and all the nagging little household problems usually saved for the guy of the family have suddenly been taken care of. Her car has gone in for new tires, the heavy storage doors out back are fixed, the porch light now works, and so do all the outside Christmas lights.

"I got the lights up outside but only half lit up," said Amy, "so he had to get them to work."

Before he leaves, there will be a picnic at Bellows Beach, some boogie-boarding with the kids, a "Polar Express" matinee, catching minnows with the kids, and even time to attend Schofield Day with the Boy Scouts with his son on Tuesday just before he leaves.

And when he packs up to head back to the airport, tucked into his bags will be the collages made by his children from moments of the year he missed — Kassidy's fifth birthday party, her first ballet class, Tyler snorkeling.

Tucked into his heart will be memories of jingle bell bows, Harry Potter glasses, and wandering through the magical world of Honolulu City Lights, his children's hands holding tight to his.