Inside the Mind of an Iraqi Suicide Bomber

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Toward the end of the cleansing period, a bomber may ask a fellow jihadi, one better versed in religious doctrine, to help with the final spiritual preparation. Marwan says he was asked to mentor a friend intent on martyrdom earlier this year. He expects his final weeks to be a period of euphoria rather than penance. "My friend was happier than I had ever seen him," Marwan says. "He felt he was close to the end of his journey to heaven." (The friend, he says, blew himself up two months ago at a checkpoint manned by Iraqi soldiers near Ramadi, capital of the turbulent Anbar province, and six were killed. "We made a pact that we would meet in heaven," Marwan says.)

"I AM A TERRORIST" Marwan seems certain he is on a "pure" path. Unlike many other insurgents, who reject the terrorist label and call themselves freedom fighters or holy warriors, Marwan embraces it. "Yes, I am a terrorist," he says. "Write that down: I admit I am a terrorist. [The Koran] says it is the duty of Muslims to bring terror to the enemy, so being a terrorist makes me a good Muslim." He quotes lines from the surah known as Al-Anfal, or the Spoils of War: "Against them make ready your strength to the utmost of your power, including steeds of war, to strike terror into the enemy of Allah and your enemy."

Then, as if embarrassed by his emotional outburst, he slumps back in his chair. He would like to understand Americans better, he says. He was arrested by U.S. patrols twice and detained for short spells, but because he speaks no English, he was unable to communicate with his captors. But this is a small regret, he says, of the kind he is determined to put out of his mind. "When you get ready for the final mission," he says almost to himself, "you can't think about the past. You only think about your future in heaven." But there is at least one aspect of the immediate future that Marwan does not want to contemplate: the collateral damage he may cause to fellow Iraqis. In the recent spate of bombings, many of the victims have been harmless bystanders. "I pray no innocent people are killed in my mission," he says. "But if some are, I know when they arrive in heaven, Allah will ask them to forgive me."

If he could choose, Marwan would like his operation to be a car bombing targeting U.S. soldiers or Iraqi security forces far from any civilians. But if he is ordered to strap on explosives and walk to his target on a downtown street, he will do so. "We don't get to choose the mission," he says. "That is up to Allah." In fact, the decision will be made by a field commander of al-Zarqawi's group. Marwan hopes he will be chosen for a high-profile hit, the dramatic, headline-grabbing kind that al-Zarqawi is said to direct personally. Although Marwan has never met the terrorist mastermind, he reveres him as a great Islamic hero.

Marwan says he doesn't think about his legacy or how others might regard him when he is gone. Unlike their Palestinian counterparts, Iraq's self-immolating terrorists are not celebrated and memorialized by family and friends. At best, Marwan might be profiled on one of the jihadist websites, but even there, his identity would be concealed to spare his family harassment by Iraqi authorities. "It doesn't matter whether people know what I did," he says. "The only person who matters is Allah--and the only question he will ask me is 'How many infidels did you kill?'"