Privately, Bush has met with about 900 family members of 
    some 270 soldiers killed in Iraq or Afghanistan. The 
    conversations are closed to the press, and Bush does not 
    like to talk about what goes on in these grieving 
    sessions, though there have been hints. An hour after he 
    met with the families at Fort Bragg in June, he gave a 
    hard-line speech on national TV. When he mentioned the 
    sacrifice of military families, his lips visibly quivered.

    All war presidents find ways to deal with the strain of 
    sending soldiers off to die. During the Vietnam War, LBJ 
    used to pray after midnight with Roman Catholic monks. 
    Bush's father, George H.W. Bush, prayed with the 
    presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church on the eve of 
    the first gulf war. For George W. Bush, these private 
    audiences with the families of dead soldiers and Marines 
    seem to be an outlet of sorts. (They are perhaps harder 
    for Laura, who sometimes accompanies Bush and looks 
    devastated afterward.) Family members interviewed by 
    NEWSWEEK say they have been taken aback by the 
    president's emotionalism and his sincerity. More 
    complicated is the question of whether Bush's suffering 
    is essentially sympathetic, or whether he is agonizing 
    over the war that he chose to start.

    Bush routinely asks to see the families of the fallen 
    when he visits military bases, which he does about 10 
    times a year. It does not appear that the White House or 
    the military makes any effort to screen out dissenters or 
    embittered families, though some families decline the 
    invitation to meet with Bush. Most families encourage the 
    president to stay the course in Iraq. "To oppose 
    something my husband lost his life for would be a 
    betrayal," says Inge Colton, whose husband, Shane, died 
    in April 2004 when his Apache helicopter was shot down 
    over Baghdad. Bush does, however, hear plenty of 
    complaints. He has been asked about missing medals on the 
    returned uniform of a loved one, about financial 
    assistance for a child going to college and about how 
    soldiers really died when the Pentagon claimed the 
    details were classified.

    At her meeting with the president at Fort Hood, Texas, 
    last spring, Colton says she lit into Bush for "stingy" 
    military benefits. Her complaints caught Bush "a little 
    off guard," she recalls. "He tried to argue with me a 
    little bit, but he promised he would have someone look 
    into it." The next day she got a call from White House 
    chief of staff Andrew Card, who said the White House 
    would follow up. "My main goal was to have him look at my 
    son, look him in the eyes and apologize," says Colton. "I 
    wanted him to know, to really understand who he has 
    hurt." She says Bush was "attentive, though not in a fake 
    way," and sometimes at a loss for words. "He didn't try 
    to overcompensate," she says.

    Ascione wasn't sure she could restrain herself with the 
    president. She was feeling "raw." "I wanted him to look 
    me in the eye and tell me why my brother was never coming 
    back, and I wanted him to know it was his fault that my 
    heart was broken," she recalls. The president was coming 
    to Florida, a key swing state, in the middle of his re-
    election campaign. Ascione was worried that her family 
    would be "exploited" by a "phony effort to make good with 
    people in order to get votes."

    Ascione and her family were gathered with 18 other 
    families in a large room on the air base. The president 
    entered with some Secret Service agents, a military 
    entourage and a White House photographer. "I'm here for 
    you, and I will take as much time as you need," Bush 
    said. He began moving from family to family. Ascione 
    watched as mothers confronted him: "How could you let 
    this happen? Why is my son gone?" one asked. Ascione 
    couldn't hear his answer, but soon "she began to sob, and 
    he began crying, too. And then he just hugged her tight, 
    and they cried together for what seemed like forever."

    Ascione's family was one of the last Bush approached. 
    Ascione still planned to confront him, but Bush disarmed 
    her in an almost uncanny way. Ascione is just over five 
    feet; her late brother was 6 feet 7. "My whole life, he 
    used to put his hand on the top of my head and just hold 
    it there, and it drove me crazy," she says. When Bush saw 
    that she was crying, he leaned over and put his hand on 
    the top of her head and drew her to him. "It was just 
    like my brother used to do," she says, beginning to cry 
    at the memory.

    Before Bush left the meeting, he paused in the middle of 
    the room and said to the families, "I will never feel the 
    same level of pain and loss you do. I didn't lose anyone 
    close to me, a member of my family or someone that I 
    love. But I want you to know that I didn't go into this 
    lightly. This was a decision that I struggle with every 
    day."

    As he spoke, Ascione could see the grief rising through 
    the president's body. His shoulder slumped and his face 
    turned ashen. He began to cry and his voice choked. He 
    paused, tried to regain his composure and looked around 
    the room. "I am sorry, I'm so sorry," he said.