Life Behind Enemy Lines

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For Abu Ali, lethal rocket strikes against the U.S. occupation army are part of the regular routine. At the modest farmhouse of a fellow member of his network of insurgents one recent evening, Abu Ali--the nom de guerre he has chosen--welcomes seven fighters into a room lined with worn sofas. Despite the steady whoomp-whoomp of circling U.S. helicopters, the insurgents sit back, chain-smoking and chatting about weapons, tactics, the long lines to get gasoline, whose children are starting to crawl. A young man spreads a plastic sheet on the floor and lays out plates of roasted chicken, rice, bean soup and boiled vegetables. As the men eat, the talk is jovial, full of laughter and noisy boasting. The presence of a reporter for a U.S. magazine does not seem to faze them. "American soldier very afraid," roars Abu Ali. "We are not." A grinning fighter brags about what would have happened if he had known President George W. Bush would be in the Baghdad airport complex on Thanksgiving Day. "We would have ... whoosh!" he says, motioning as if firing a shoulder-launched missile.

Outside, under a sliver of moon, the cell's surveillance teams are hard at work, monitoring firing positions for their next assault. Spotters circle the area in taxis; others pose as workmen walking home and flip hand signals to passing colleagues. They all report to Abu Ali, a former officer in the Fedayeen Saddam militia who is well schooled in guerrilla tactics. A tall, sinewy figure with a weathered face, Abu Ali makes no secret of his ambition to attack Americans: "I want to kill all Bush's soldiers until they leave Iraq or it becomes their desert graveyard."

Checking his watch, Abu Ali abruptly rises from a sofa, throws on a woolen overcoat and orders everyone, including the reporter, to move out. The men pile into three cars and tear off in different directions. For more than an hour, they cruise near the launch site until all looks clear. Then a small team walks into a flat field to aim a rack of homemade launching tubes toward the lights of the Baghdad airport, home to U.S. chopper squadrons, supply units and the CIA-led Iraq Survey Group, less than two miles away. The insurgents load three air-to-air rockets they have modified to launch from the ground, flash a signal with car headlights and disappear. A second team creeps in to fire the volley, while a security detail armed with assault rifles and machine guns forms a perimeter. Beyond these fighters, according to the cell's security chief, a ring of men with shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles and rocket-propelled grenades is watching for U.S. helicopters that might try to stop the assault.