It takes immense patience from those who have already been patiently waiting for you for six months to allow you the appropriate time and space to readjust. There’s a cruelty in that, as they have likely suffered more in your absence, yet must play second fiddle once again. 

It also takes discipline from the individual not to suddenly over-indulge in every vice their unique circumstance deprived them.

Critically, it also takes appropriate support from the Irish Defence Forces, the people who sent you out there.

Consider, then, what awaits members of the 124th Infantry Battalion who will return home this week after spending practically all of their time in Lebanon either directly or indirectly under actual rocket fire. 

Add in the worry from home, the discomfort of the world's gaze being temporarily upon them, followed by the confusion as to why it suddenly diverted elsewhere. 

The reality of facing down Merkava tanks, and the whoosh of Katyusha rockets. Of claustrophobic bomb shelters. The absurd juxtaposition of dealing with bloodthirsty IDF one moment, and a distressed text from home the next. 

Whether it be a boyfriend at home, annoyed at your absence or a pregnant partner, sick with worry. Of children expecting their mothers for birthdays, only for them to do that weird math — Mummy is not coming home, and the sky in the country she’s in is ablaze on television.

It’s a lot. And while our screens and newspapers will be filled with joyous pictures of airport reunions, I suggest we all take a deep breath, count our blessings they all came home, and move on. Leave them to be with their families. 

There is no reason to glorify their trauma, and regardless of how unharmed their bodies might be, there absolutely will have been trauma. Decompression is an imperative part of reintegration, and it is incumbent upon the Defence Forces now to not repeat the mistakes of the recent past and ensure they get the private support they will undeniably need. 

That support needs to be quiet, and consistent, not played out for clicks on the Late Late Show.

Last month, as social media anointed Irish peacekeepers in Lebanon the saviours of humanity, some public servants — prisoners to the moment — suggested the appropriate way to “thank our troops” was to host them at the Dáil bar for a pint. 

Another, a day trip to the Áras to meet the president. It was well intentioned (I hope) but with an election looming, it also stank of opportunism. 

Take it from me, just about the last place any soldier who spent the last two months in and out of bomb shelters needs to be this side of Christmas is back in his uniform, bused up to Dublin for a photo op with a grinning TD. Similarly, the Áras. 

Even if the soldiers and their families might take pride in such attention, being used as a political pawn is an insult to the job they did. The support they need is not likes on social media, but from their workplace.

We are coming up on the two-year anniversary of the death of Private Sean Rooney in South Lebanon. The death of a colleague overseas is one of the most traumatising events that can befall a serving soldier, not least because it happens in a vacuum, where the normal support networks of friends and family are unavailable. 

In the immediate aftermath of Pte Rooney’s death, the Defence Forces deployed personal support services teams to Lebanon to provide support to those who served alongside him. Those teams would have stayed a short while in theatre before returning to Ireland. 

Pte Rooney was killed only month into a six-month tour of duty, so his colleagues would have had to undergo the next five months with his death living very large in their memories. Some soldiers were present with him, others — in the days that followed — were directly involved in his repatriation home. 

While the Defence Forces managed the bare minimum in addressing the psychological needs of the troops in the immediate aftermath, it is unclear what extra steps were taken in the months that followed. 

More importantly, given trauma manifests itself in different ways over long periods, what steps did they take when those troops returned home in May 2023?

What steps are they taking now?

As somebody recently retired from the Defence Forces, I have no doubt it will get the first part right. The 124th Infantry Battalion will arrive home heroes and be feted as such. There will be briefings, debriefings, and leaflets handed out that will inevitably be left behind in the confetti. 

There will also be much back-slapping and quite a few photographs. What’s needed though, more than anything, is follow-up. Not slick soundbites. You can’t take people from their families, drop them in harm's way, then send them home to put their kids to bed, content you did your job because you got them to sign a bloody form.

There can be no talk of a life less ordinary if those who send them away do not ensure they have the softest landing possible when they get home. That responsibility does not end at the airport, and certainly not at the bar in Leinster House.