What a bomb can't do

The Marines were eager to curry the sheik's favor.

Waging war is a wholesale business: whole cities, whole armies are subdued at once with speed and fearful weaponry.

But winning hearts and minds is retail, done one heart and one mind at a time.

And so the lieutenant, the major, the Marine lawyer, the Marine lawyer's assistant, two translators and 15 combat troops -- who were needed in case of an ambush -- loaded into a convoy of Humvees.

Convincing someone of your good intentions is labor intensive. During war, the saying is that you should never send a squad of Marines to do what a 500-pound bomb can do; during the struggle for a lasting peace, bombs can be useless, even counterproductive.

The meeting in the farmhouse in this village outside Fallouja was only one of dozens of such meetings, in tiny homes, in government offices, along roadsides, in tumble-down rural villages, anywhere and everywhere, as the Marines try to convince a leery and war-weary Iraqi populace that the United States is their friend.

We sat on couches on opposite sides of the living room. On one side were the Americans; on the other, Sheik Shuker al Shehawi and 10 of his tribesmen, ranging in age from mid-20s to mid-70s.

"We are here only because we want to bring order and stability to this area," said Maj. Brandon McGowan, executive officer of the 2nd Battalion, 1st Regiment of the 1st Marine Division.

McGowan, a musician at heart and an infantry officer by training, is now at the point of the "security and stability" effort in this region of the Sunni Triangle, where anti-Western feeling runs high. Cigarettes are exchanged; the Iraqis are barefoot, the Americans wear combat boots.

It brings honor to the sheik in the eyes of his countrymen that he is able to summon the Marines for tea and talk. He has a regal bearing, he listens but does not speak much, his tribesmen defer to him and await an unspoken sign to vent their own concerns about the Marine checkpoints that have cut off access to Fallouja.

When Iraqis vent, they vent with gusto, with words tumbling out in profusion, accompanied by hand gestures. (One officer, an Italian American, says of the expressive Iraqis: "They're Italians on steroids.") Children peek around corners to watch the late afternoon meeting. Women are not seen.