His next mission: finding civilian work

Hornbrook is also, at 39 years old, about to enter the civilian job market for the first time in his adult life. He has no idea how he will find work.

“I realize these skills don’t have a lot of applications in society,’’ said Hornbrook, trim and alert, wearing a Special Forces baseball cap, as he talked at a coffee shop in his native Quincy.

It is bad enough that Hornbrook, who retires from the military on Dec. 1, will be entering the worst job market in memory. What is worse is that as a man accustomed to action, Hornbrook has yet to figure out what he wants from a civilian career.

He does know one thing, this man who plunged into one firefight after the next: “I am so afraid of a desk job.’’

His is an increasingly common dilemma for thousands of men and women who have served in Iraq or Afghanistan, or both. As they look for jobs, veterans - especially those who have made a career in the military - must confront the difficulties of adapting their skills and translating their military experience into a demilitarized workplace.

Their plight is highlighted by federal Bureau of Labor statistics that show unemployment in October for non-veterans aged 18 and over at 9.3 percent; for veterans who have served during the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the rate is 11.6 percent.

The military offers courses on subjects such as how to write a resume, network, and act during an interview, and Massachusetts state government has agencies that help steer veterans through the process of finding jobs in their communities. For example, Jobs for Veterans, a program under the state Executive Office of Labor and Workforce Development, helps 12,000 veterans each year in the search for civilian jobs, according to Carl Waal, the program’s manager. It also helps ready them for the realities of civilian life (for instance: entrylevel pay may not match the $48,000 base salary, plus combat pay and benefits, earned by someone his rank with 20 years’ experience).

But the problem most often mentioned by veterans who have left the military is the one Hornbrook identified as he nursed a caramel latte in that Quincy coffee shop.

“It’s almost like the question: ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’’’ he said with a rueful smile. “A pirate? A shepherd?’’

Hornbrook could probably be either, or both, or many other things.

Iraqi counterterrorism units depended on his instruction and leadership on missions. Weapons makers and uniform designers consulted with him on how to tailor equipment for his missions as a member of the 2d Battalion of the 3d Special Forces Group (nickname: Bush Hogs; motto: “We do bad things to bad people’’). Those missions, over 10 tours and 64 months in combat zones, brought Hornbrook to hot spots across Iraq and Afghanistan.

His team depended on his courage and resourcefulness. As the gunner on the lead truck, he was shot at countless times in dozens of firefights (“Hey, that comes with the territory’’). As “mayor’’ of his team’s compound on a military base in Baghdad, he solved such administrative problems as where to get electricity (he wangled a generator from Iraqi civilians).

Veterans now in civilian life listed a roster of jobs where Hornbrook, with his experiences, would excel - leader of a sales team, teacher, law enforcement supervisor, defense industry contractor, counselor for troubled youth.

“He could be a terrific role model,’’ said the state’s veterans services secretary, Thomas G. Kelley, a retired Navy captain who spent 30 years in the military. “The transition can be hard,’’ he added. “It took me a few years to decide what I want to do when I grow up.’’

And some say the military could do more to help.

“The government invests a lot of time for training for war but not as much on the back end,’’ said Paul Rieckhoff, executive director and founder of Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America, a nonprofit advocacy and support organization.

Rieckhoff, a retired Army first lieutenant who led an infantry platoon in Iraq from April 2003 to February 2004, said many of the soldiers he commanded “really struggled’’ to make the transition back to civilian life. Veterans are valued for their toughness, discipline, and ability to work under stress independently or in teams, he said. “But sometimes they need help to convert a Special Forces team leader into a sales professional.’’

In September, Hornbrook moved from the Bush Hogs base at Fort Bragg, N.C., to Quincy with his wife of 18 years, Laura, and their two daughters, Veronica, 8, and Adeline, 5. He had 98 days of unused leave (for Special Forces, canceled vacations also go with the territory), during which he moved his family into his childhood home on Wollaston Beach. He has been a dad “instead of a voice on the phone.’’ He has been looking for work online. He realizes he has to get going.

“The itch has been there,’’ he said. “I gotta get up and out of the home.’’

Hornbrook has something going for him that other retiring commandos do not: His lifelong passion for the Boston Bruins, which he expressed with a patch bearing the team’s insignia on his uniform in Iraq, has led to some unlikely help.

The Bruins are honoring Hornbrook at the team’s Military Appreciation Night tomorrow. There, he will drop the puck to start the game against the Florida Panthers. “It’s a lifetime dream,’’ he said.

On Monday, the Bruins sent Hornbrook’s favorite player, defenseman Mark Stuart, to help him pick out a suit donated by Saks Fifth Avenue in Boston.

The sergeant wore a Bruins hat to the store, as well as a Bush Hogs T-shirt, Oakley sunglasses, and Asolo hiking boots (with his blood type penned on the heel). He left these in the dressing room and walked out uncertainly, wearing a navy-blue Hugo Boss suit picked out by Wayne Harrington, the store’s men’s clothing consultant.

Hornbrook has never had to buy a suit. He wore his dress uniform at his wedding in 1991.

“Feel comfortable?’’ someone asked. Hornbrook made a face. “Oh yeah.’’

Mission accomplished, Hornbrook donned his hiking books, his cargo pants, his T-shirt.

“We do bad things to bad people,’’ the shirt reminded everyone.

Then he walked out of the store, one step closer to civilian life.

Correction:Because of a reporting error, an earlier version of this story mischaracterized Robert Hornbrook's military affiliation. Sergeant Hornbrook did not take the Special Forces Qualification Course required to become a Green Beret. He is a special operations sergeant first class with a specialization in chemical, biological, radiological, and nuclear explosives who served in Bravo Company, Second Battalion, Third Special Forces Group.