02:55 PM EDT on Monday, May 16, 2005

BY JOEL RAWSON
Executive Editor

SAMARRA, Iraq -- Soldiers appear and disappear in the darkness, the little lights they wear on their helmets flashing across five Humvees. Saturday morning at 3:50, two teams of the 173rd Long Range Surveillance Detachment of the Rhode Island National Guard prepare to go on patrol.

Journal photo / John Freidah

With night-vision goggles and infrared laser sights on their weapons, Rhode Island National Guard members clear war-torn buildings near Samarra, Iraq. Sgt. Robert Sloat, of Bristol, and Specialist Aaron Buehler, of Newport, check each building.

Crewing one Humvee are the driver, Specialist Christopher Neuenfeldt, of Newport; the team leader, Staff Sgt. Justin Hunt, of Troy, N.Y.; and the turret gunner, Specialist Juan Ventura, of Waterbury, Conn.

Hunt calls Sgt. Robert Carrigg, of Merrimack, N.H., in a Humvee ahead of him.

"Murphy three six, Murphy three six. This is Murphy two six. Radio check. Over."

Hunt turns in the front passenger seat toward Ventura, the gunner, who is standing in the turret. All Hunt can see of Ventura is his legs.

"Hey, Ventura," Hunt says. "That kid was in name-tape defilade. That piece of shrapnel came through the turret and through his K-pot."

Hunt is referring to a 3rd Infantry Division soldier who was wounded a few days before, when a roadside bomb blew up beside his Humvee. An order had since gone out for all gunners to get down so the name tags on their chests are even with the roof of the Humvees, and their heads well inside the armor of the turrets.

Now it appears, for that soldier, the order wouldn't have made any difference.

According to Capt. Michael Manning, of North Kingstown, the shrapnel penetrated the turret where it joins the Humvee's roof, and then the gunner's helmet, called a K-pot. The soldiers in the 173rd have heard he died.

The five Humvees pass through the gate of Forward Operating Base Brassfield-Mora at 4:05 a.m. Leaving the base is called "going through the wire."

Ventura drops down, sitting in the gunner's sling well inside the armor.

The Humvees pull onto the main road and start going fast, well separated. From the small slits of red of the lead vehicle's taillights, to the last vehicle, in which Hunt rides, they cover maybe a half-mile.

"All vehicles on the MSR" -- the main supply route, Hunt calls on the radio.

It is still dark as the Humvees pull off onto a side road to approach some buildings the soldiers want to check out. They see a man get up and run away across a field.

"I think they got a laser on him," someone says, meaning a rifleman has his night sight on the running man. No shot is fired.

The soldiers go through the buildings room to room, putting into practice the drill they rehearsed Thursday, except there are no doors to kick down.

The buildings are abandoned. Everything useful, all the glass, doors, fixtures and wiring has long since been stripped. The soldiers believe the insurgents move about, sometimes staying overnight in empty buildings. There is no one here.

By the time they are ready to leave, there is enough daylight to see.

Hunt, Carrigg and Sgt. Joseph Voccio, of Cranston, discuss which way to go back. There are two choices: back up the main road or up a dirt road that runs along a canal parallel to the main road.

Hunt says, "Go balls to the wall up [the main road]."

Carrigg favors the dirt.

They pull away from the buildings at 5:57 a.m. Two Humvees move off to the south. Three head up the dirt canal road.

This is farm country, irrigated with water pumped from the canals. Wheat fields look golden. Sunflowers and vegetables grow in cultivated fields. The farmers' houses are low with flat roofs. Cows and a calf are out, and a brown dog. Two of the houses have satellite dishes.

There are several big frame irrigation rigs, the kind that walk across the fields. Besides a tractor, they are the only large farm equipment seen.

Hunt says, "You getting a haircut today, right, Neuenfeldt?"

"Yeah," Neuenfeldt says.

"You got to get one before the commander comes," Hunt says. He is referring to an expected visit by the brass. Armies are Armies.

They come to a large bump.

"I'm going to go Dukes of Hazard," Neuenfeldt says.

"Yeah," Hunt says, "why don't you."

But they slow down and take the bump easy.

They stop at a beat-up black car parked facing off the road and photograph the license plate.

An oil pipeline crosses the canal and the road. Nearby is a house between the road and the canal. Normally there would be Iraqis, pipeline guards camping here, but today no one is about.

The soldiers look through the empty house. The former residents had painted flowers and trees to decorate the walls of the rooms. This house, too, has been stripped.

From the house they can see a small fire burning, the smoke blowing away to the east.

They climb back in the Humvees and move off.

"They got a [expletive] Dunkin' Donuts down in Qatar," Hunt says.

"Those assholes," Neuenfeldt says.

"I'd kill for a doughnut," Hunt says.

The soldiers take two Humvees and drive down a narrow path running through 10-foot tall reeds. At the fire, Hunt gets out. The ground near the pipeline is on fire, small licks of flame and smoke. There appears to be no break in the pipe. Hunt takes several pictures.

On the move again, they see a white car parked beside the main road a hundred yards across the canal. The hood is up. A man is away from the car near a white bag lying on the main road's shoulder. When the soldiers stop, the man goes back to the car and brings out three small children. The man and the children stand facing the soldiers, waiting, then the man closes the hood of the car and drives slowly off.

The soldiers suspect the white bag they left behind might contain an IED, an improvised explosive device, a bomb. The canal is too wide and deep to cross so they can't check it out.

Sgt. Chet Howell, of Cranston, shoots his turret-mounted machine gun at the bag. The tracer goes high over the road. Crowell switches to his rifle. The bag flaps when the bullets strike. It appears to be empty.

Further on, they see another car parked beside the road with the hood up. This one looks like a big white Chevy Suburban.

Five men, a woman and a child appear and face the soldiers. They close the hood. They open it again.

The soldiers say the Iraqis know they can't do anything. They can't cross the canal. They can't shoot because they have no cause to.

For several minutes, the soldiers and the Iraqis stand facing each other across the canal, two cultures trying to figure out what the other one is thinking.

Then the five men and the woman begin to push the huge car down the highway.

The dirt road joins the main highway and the Humvees are on blacktop again, going fast. Ventura drops down to sit on the sling.

A white Toyota pickup truck loaded with watermelons is parked at a roadside pull-off. Two men stack the melons, open for business.

In the near distance, the city of Samarra is visible through the haze, a city as old as recorded time.