CLEARWATER, Fla. — It started as a school assignment.

Six-year-old Jannah Lynn was supposed to exchange letters with a soldier in Iraq. But her mom didn't want any random soldier. So Carol Medvec went to New Wilmington Presbyterian Church in Pennsylvania where she attended services and asked for a soldier's name from their pen pal program.

She was given Army Reserve Sgt. Jim Schultz.

"Dear Sgt. Schultz. Hi. You are in Iraq. I want to thank you. You are brave," Jannah Lynn wrote in November 2006.

"Dear Jannah Lynn, Thank you for writing me. Being a soldier you have to be brave, you have to be strong, there's time you have to leave your family, but there's time you get to come back," he wrote, and included postcards with pictures of Iraq that she could take to class show and tell.

So began a correspondence that would soon grow to include Jannah Lynn's four siblings and eventually their mother. And suddenly this soldier was not just serving his country. He was saving a family.

LONELY IN IRAQ

Thousands of miles away in Iraq, the walls around Schultz's bunk beds were empty. His buddies had pictures of their wives and children, but 46-year-old Schultz was long divorced with children in their 20s.

When he returned home from his first tour of duty in 2004 he sat on his duffel bag at the airport and watched the reunions until he was the last one in the parking lot. Then he walked to a nearby hotel and checked in for a few weeks before renting a one-bedroom apartment in New Wilmington, Pa.

After shifts as a forklift operator at a cheese plant, he returned to the sparse apartment, watched TV on an air mattress and ate fast food and frozen dinners with his cat, Rascal, close by.

He tried dating, but "Lord knows what you are going to get out of a bar scene."

There were plenty of women who loved flirting with a soldier, but Schultz couldn't find a "kick-back woman" he could listen to country music with.

Not far from the cheese plant at the Medvec home, Carol and the kids were trying to adjust to life without a father. Carol, 42, divorced her husband in 2004, the same year Schultz returned from his first tour of duty.

Lonely nights. Lonely lives. Only a mile apart.

GROWING INTIMACY

Back in Iraq for the second time, Schultz, a mechanic stationed about 180 miles north of Baghdad, ran recovery missions for the National Guard, fixing trucks and bringing them back to base when they take a hit.

He always found a way to write to the Medvec kids. Soon, their short letter exchanges turned into longer e-mails and phone calls. He asked if they would send him soup. They talked about school and their friends.

He and Luke, then 17, were both Pittsburgh Steelers fans. Shawna, 20, told him all about her boyfriend problems and girl drama. Caroline, 9, wanted to know about his guns. Blaine, 16 and a straight-A student, talked about being in the drum line.

For the first time in a while, Schultz wasn't as lonely. He looked forward to the children's calls and didn't mind walking a mile to the call center.

One day Carol answered one of his calls. He sounds like Jack Nicholson, she thought.

At first, they talked mostly about the kids. Sometimes he knew more than she did.

"Do you really know where Luke is going tonight," he asked once.

He's worrying about my kids while he's in Iraq. What kind of man does that?

Later, they realized Schultz had worked at the cheese plant a mile from her home. They went to the same high school and spent most of their lives in New Wilmington, with a population of about 2,500.

Soon they were spending three or four hours at a time on the phone, splitting the roughly $400 monthly phone bill.

"I really felt like I knew him forever," she said.

He called her before every mission. He could hear her crying as they hung up.

"She was like a little school girl," her eldest, Shawna, said. "If I would go to use the phone she would be like 'Don't use it, Jim's gonna call me."'

A BRONZE STAR

In Iraq, Jim's vehicle was hit six times by roadside bombs. He was awarded a Bronze Star for bravery and once pulled two men from a burning truck.

He was more than happy to forget about fighting and talk about life back home in Pennsylvania.

For her birthday, he sent a few dozen roses.

For his birthday, Shawna persuaded Carol to make a sexy calendar. She and Jim had never exchanged photos before. When Jim flipped through the pictures, some of Carol wearing his army fatigue jacket, he told his buddies he was going to marry her.

"I just fell in love with the way she talked, her sense of humor, her voice."

Last March he flew to Pittsburgh International Airport for a nine-day vacation.

She hid behind a pillar to watch him come down the escalator. He gave her a hug and a big kiss.

"I'm going to marry her; she is so god-awful gorgeous," Jim thought, looking at her petite frame and strawberry blond hair.

Three days later they married at the same church where Carol had gotten his name.

SECOND TOUR ENDS

Jim returned to Iraq to finish the final six months of his second tour. The walls around his bunk bed filled up quickly. Colorings from Jannah Lynn and Caroline, silly cards that sang "I'm Walking on Sunshine." Even Milkshake, the family cat, wrote Jim.

And Jim wrote them back.

For a soldier with a gruff voice, buzz cut and tattoos on both arms, the letters were surprisingly tender.

"I have not ever been so happy in my life. You are the only thing that made me make it through."

Jim finally made it home for good in September. Carol and the kids went to the airport. Carol wore a white, Marilyn Monroe-style halter dress. The crew, which included Jim's son, Jimmy, carried balloons and a handful of "Welcome Home" posters.

"Here comes Miss Marilyn Monroe running and pushing everybody out of the way," Jim remembers.

More than 100 strangers crowded around them, clapping and shaking Jim's hand. Jim and Carol cried.

BACK TO IRAQ?

Life is hectic in Florida. Jim wakes everyone in the morning, makes breakfasts, packs lunches, looks for missing backpacks and homework. He heads to Carol's office most afternoons to take her to lunch. He helped Blaine get his driver's license and buy a car. He fixed Jannah Lynn's bike.

They call him Daddy J.

"He does a great job filling that father figure, just being thrown into it. He copes really well," said Luke. "I wouldn't trade him for anything. My mom made a good choice."

At night, Jim puts everyone to bed and stays up e-mailing his resume. With no job prospects, he's planning to re-enlist to pay the bills. There's a good chance he could go back to Iraq in March for as long as 18 months.

"I think about it all the time. I don't want to leave my family again after I just got home," he said.