CAMP PENDLETON -- Lt. Christopher Ayres hobbled to the homecoming on crutches Thursday, still slowed by battle wounds now three months old. Ayres was there to welcome 600 of his comrades from the 1st Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, which returned to Camp Pendleton after a seven-month deployment. The trip sent them into some of the most intense fighting in Iraq -- fighting that claimed the lives of at least a dozen men in the unit.

After most of the returning Marines kissed their families, grabbed their bags and went home, Ayres remained at the parade deck at Camp Horno on the base. He wasn't quite done.

He wanted to talk to the men of his unit who "dragged his butt" to safety in Iraq, the men he left there more than two months ago after being wounded in battle.

"You train with these Marines. You grow bonds. It's like family," Ayres said. "Then you get plucked out, you get wounded."

It happened April 13. A rocket propelled grenade slammed into his amphibious assault vehicle -- and maybe right into his leg. He's not quite sure. It's a bit fuzzy. But he remembers that Lance Cpl. Abraham McCarver was among those who tugged him into the nearby home, the closest shelter the Marines could find while being attacked.

Ayres said McCarver jumped on top of him to shield him when grenades hit the Iraqi home. McCarver said he pulled the officer from room to room to get away from leaking propane appliances that could have exploded with every shot fired.

Ayres' wounds sent him to the hospital for 74 days. On Thursday, the young McCarver shook hands with the man he saved and gave Ayres details of the story -- the escape from the firefight -- that Ayres hadn't before known.

When Ayres' wife met McCarver, she hugged him and thanked him for rescuing her husband.

Also spotting Ayres in the crowd was the battalion commander, Lt. Col. Brennan Byrne, who strode up to give the injured lieutenant a hardy handshake.

"God, it's good to see you," Byrne said. "It's good to see you in one piece."

The returning sailors and Marines spent most of the spring in and around Fallujah in the violence-ridden Al Anbar Province. The battalion had been diverted to the Middle East from Okinawa.

The battalion ranks were thinner by 12 men, according to Department of Defense casualty reports. Several Marines in the unit were killed in combat in March and April. The youngest of the fallen was 19. The oldest was 30.

Those who came home Thursday afternoon were met with smiles, kisses and tears. It was a long, hot wait for the families, but finally the units marched in, the Marines in desert camouflage.

Cheering families lined the parking lot in a makeshift parade route. One overjoyed mom spotted her son and ran alongside him as he marched with his unit.

Stone-faced Marines tried not to smile. Some peeked at the crowd, hoping to glimpse family. Applause and shrieks echoed.

"It makes you feel like a celebrity," 21-year-old Pfc. Steve Rodgers said.

Lance Cpl. Trevor Hunsucker said that when he saw the scene, "my heart went up into my throat."

Finally, the unit broke. Families darted to find the husbands, sons and brothers they missed.

Cpl. Dan Dietz melted into the arms of wife Kathy, the two of them sharing a kiss and tender, whispered words, oblivious to the throng around them.

Erik Krempien's mom, Jan, in from Wisconsin, clutched her son, breaking away only long enough to check and make sure he wasn't too thin.

In the middle of it all, Marine Geoffrey Gotsch spotted his wife Juliea about 30 feet away. The two rushed for each other, pushing through the crowd, dodging families as they scooped Marines into their arms.

The couple gripped each other and 7-year-old daughter Emerald Gotsch latched on. Then the beaming Marine took five-month-old Grace from his wife and introduced himself.

"Hi, honey," he said as he lifted the stars-and-stripes clad baby to his face. "I'm your daddy."

Contact staff writer Teri Figueroa at (760) 740-3517 or tfigueroa@nctimes.com.