No one who goes to the Bangor International Airport to greet the troops returning from the war in Iraq should expect to see anything approaching the patriotic fanfare they might remember after Desert Storm in 1991.

There is no Iraqi Freedom version of a Sgt. Kevin Tillman, for instance, who reduced hundreds of people to tears when he walked into the waiting area back then and blew an impromptu “Star-Spangled Banner” on a saxophone borrowed from a local high school band member. There are no big, flag-waving crowds at the airport these days, no passionate speeches by state and local dignitaries, no international media on hand to tell the world of Bangor’s collective embrace of every serviceman and woman fortunate enough to have made it back home alive.

Sept. 11, 2000, changed all of that. The heightened security in our new age of terrorism doesn’t allow for the large-scale spontaneous celebrations that welcomed the planeloads of troops as they touched down on U.S. soil a dozen years ago. The flights come in a bit more randomly and in fewer numbers now than they did in 1991, when the newspaper and TV stations routinely announced every troop arrival. Perhaps the unfavorable view of many Americans of the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq has helped keep the number of greeters down this time around. Or maybe it’s a sense among many people that they’ve already been there and done that and nothing could ever come close to that 1991 feeling again.

But none of that matters to Bill Knight, an 82-year-old World War II veteran from Bradford. He has been at the airport to meet every one of the 16 troop flights that have landed in Bangor over the last month.

“The troops I’ve talked to said it wouldn’t matter to them if there were 200 people waiting for them or only one, they’re just so grateful that someone cares enough to be here when they arrive,” says Knight, sitting in the terminal Wednesday afternoon to meet his 17th flight. “For some of them, the only news they got over there was about the anti-war demonstrations going on.”

Knight is one of about 40 stalwart greeters who say they feel honored to meet every flight into Bangor, no matter what time of day or night it arrives. There are a few young women and children among them at times, but most are older men and women who come dressed in the uniforms of the American Legion and Veterans of Foreign Wars. They were part of the huge celebrations in 1991; some of them met planes for months or even years after Desert Storm had ended. And now, the small group remains dedicated to the idea that every serviceman and woman who recently served in the Middle East deserves nothing less than a handshake, a hug and a pat on the back. And if that means getting up at 2 a.m. and not getting back to sleep until dawn, so be it.

“Nobody came out to greet me when I got back, and I’ll be damned if I’ll ever let that happen to our troops again,” says Harold Hansen, president-elect of the area Korean War veterans. “I’d say that hugs all around is the least we can do.”

Whenever Knight gets word from the passenger-service people at the airport that a plane is due to arrive – the Bangor Region Chamber of Commerce also helps to alert veterans groups – he immediately puts the troop-greeter phone tree into operation.

First he calls Becky Davis of Orrington, who has a son in the war. Davis then calls four or five people, who in turn each call another four or five people. Then they all grab their flags, don their uniforms and patriotic T-shirts and gather at the airport to sip coffee and wait.

“People think they won’t be able to get into the airport because of all the security, and I suppose the unpopularity of this war has kept some people away,” says Nancy Bond of Corinth, who met more than 200 flights after Desert Storm and has managed to greet seven this time.

“But us diehards figure that if the troops can put their lives on the line, then the least we can do is welcome them home and tell them what a good job they’ve done. It’s just a blessing to see their looks of surprise, awe and gratitude when they come down the hallway and see us waiting. Their eyes show just how pleased they are.”

As Bond speaks, a buzz moves through the little group. It is just before 1 p.m., and 256 members of the 108th Air Defense Brigade, on a flight from Cyprus by way of Shannon, Ireland, have just cleared customs and are ready to enter the airport’s waiting area. The greeters take up their customary positions, flanking the carpeted hallway that leads from the international arrivals building.

The room quickly fills with the anticipation of a surprise birthday party. There is no high school band here, so Hansen hurriedly slips a CD into the boombox he always brings with him. Today, he’s going with Lee Greenwood’s 9-11 anthem, “God Bless the USA,” followed by Rudy Vallee’s rendition of “The Maine Stein Song” for that hometown touch. Members of the Penobscot County Republicans are on hand, too, to hand out telephone calling cards so the troops can tell their families and friends across the country that they’re finally back from the war.

“Here they come!” shouts Sylvia Thompson of Bangor, a Vietnam War widow in a blue VFW uniform who stands with Knight at the head of the welcoming line.

As the greeters erupt in cheers and wave their flags, the troops emerge wide-eyed from the shadowy hallway and into the light of the waiting area. Printed on their chests are names like Giles, Kather, Markulik, Maloney, Rice, Young and De Los Santos, each of them wearing sand-colored camouflage and big, youthful, self-conscious grins that mask the grisly horrors they experienced once they crossed into Iraq in late March. And one by one, all down the line, the greeters shake their hands, hug them warmly and say, “We’re so glad to have you back.”

Among the troops is Sgt. Mike Whitehouse of Freeport, who stands beaming with pride at the end of the reception line. Before his brigade took off from Ireland hours earlier, Whitehouse told as many of his fellow troops as he could that there would a nice little surprise waiting for them when they got off the plane in Bangor.

“I told them they were going to be landing in an awesome place,” says Whitehouse. “And I expected nothing less than this kind of warm welcome from the people of the great state of Maine.”