They entered the shack in twos. Despite the 100-plus degree temperature, all were covered from head to toe in garb ranging from burkas to more modern clothing paired with headscarves.

A few carried with them everything they owned with their children in tow: small animals, powdered milk and soap to sell at the market, brightly-colored plastic bags emblazoned with Disney characters, and even one kitchen sink.

The women got out of their cars, separated from the men, and lined up outside the enclosed hut. They held their arms out and turned around as they were patted down — a routine their young children playfully imitated — and their purses and bags were examined.

It was September 2005. As most Harvard University students donned sweatshirts and hurried to their first classes of the year, Tayla C. Havice ‘10 was searching female Iraqis for weapons at a military checkpoint on the outskirts of Fallujah clad in full desert camouflage (flack jacket and two firearms included).

“One of my first days, I went to search a woman, and she started crying. My search partner — who was more experienced — [said] just take off your helmet and show her your hair,” Havice said. When Havice removed her Kevlar helmet to reveal her sweat-soaked bun, the woman “immediately sort of relaxed,” Havice said.