This Dec. 23, 2005, photo released by Joey Coon shows Coon, left, an American soldier, and his translator at the time, Bandar Hasan, beside the Tigris River in Iraq.

Washington ? They became good buddies during the war, the young American soldier and his invaluable Iraqi translator, an easygoing guy who could spot dangers in the shadows and calm jittery nerves in the streets.

When it was time to go home, Joey Coon, then an Army National Guard sergeant, set up an e-mail account for his translator, Bandar Hasan. He gave his friend a quick lesson on how to use it so they could stay in touch.

Coon didn’t expect much. Hasan wasn’t familiar with computers. But he did call on occasion, and the two joked about him coming to America one day, an idea that seemed far-fetched.

That all changed one morning when Hasan called Coon, his voice tense, his message urgent. He was no longer a translator, he was on the run and in fear of his life.

“He was very scared and worried and thought he was in a lot of danger,” Coon says, recalling how this conversation differed from others. “It was less about two guys joking, ‘Hey buddy, won’t it be fun when you come to the U.S.,’ and more like ‘Joey I need to get the heck out of here!'”

Coon knew Hasan had risked his life for him and other American soldiers.

Now he was determined to do all he could to save him.

Translators’ dangers

Among the thousands of Iraqis who’ve worked with Americans during the war, probably no group has faced greater danger than translators. They’ve been denounced as spies, condemned as traitors. Some have been killed, others tortured or threatened.

Though a law passed in 2007 made it easier for translators to come to the United States, some Americans — many of them soldiers — have felt the need to do more. They’ve raised money, hired lawyers, even welcomed Iraqis as temporary housemates.

Rescuing Hasan became a team project.

Teresa Statler, a Portland, Ore., immigration lawyer who already had helped two Iraqi translators come to America, set out to do the same for Hasan. But reaching him wasn’t always easy; he was reluctant to open American documents in the Internet cafe in Baghdad where he read his e-mail.

Jason Faler, the Oregon Guard captain who established The Checkpoint One Foundation to help Iraqi translators, contacted a general who’d served in Afghanistan to get a recommendation letter required for the visa.

The word that Hasan had been issued a visa came in a March e-mail.

“‘Bandar, my brother!!!!” Coon wrote, announcing the news. “… I’m so happy for you.”

“I really Cry when I see the e.mail,” Hasan replied, thanking him and reminding him: “You Still my Big Brother.” Hasan is now 24, Coon 28.

A few days later, Hasan and his mother shared a tearful goodbye. “This is my future, this is my life,” he says he told her. “I want to be safe.”

Taking his first-ever plane ride, Hasan watched, without regret, as the Baghdad skyline disappeared beneath him. “It’s not very good memories I have of Iraq,” he says, “Always scared. Always bad situations.”

About a dozen of Coon’s friends, including his girlfriend, Brooke Oberwetter, greeted Hasan at the airport in Washington.

The next day, they played Frisbee on the Washington Mall and did some sightseeing as Hasan took photos.

“One day,” he says, “I’m going to show them to my children.”

New life in U.S.

As predicted, the hard part wasn’t over.

It took three months for Hasan to find work. He now holds two part-time positions busing dishes, but worries about supporting himself.

“He’s a very proud guy,” Coon says. “He doesn’t want to feel like he’s a burden.”

Hasan also hasn’t escaped the horrors of war. Early on, he learned an Iraqi friend, a contractor he’d entrusted to watch over his mother, had been killed. Then an Iraqi child who reminded Hasan of himself as a boy was killed, too.

Hasan plans to take English classes, would eventually like to go to college and maybe, one day, bring his mother here.

For now, he’s basking in his new “family” that includes Coon’s father, Jim Coon. The two talk and exchange text messages regularly. “He calls me dad, I call him my No. 2 son,” the elder Coon says.

Hasan is giddy just thinking about it.

“I’ve got a brother,” he declares. “I’ve got a family, people who take care of me. It’s amazing.”