If At First You Don't Succeed ...

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p> In Washington the Administration is trying to put the best face on things. True, the Japanese have delayed the deployment of their promised force to Iraq, and the South Koreans have capped the number they plan to send, but—as always—all will be well. The growing number of Iraqi security forces—now, according to Rumsfeld, 131,000 strong—will augment the troops of those members of the coalition who still have a stomach for the fight. It is likely, however, that there will be plenty of U.S. forces in Iraq for some time. A Pentagon official in Iraq says the plan is to eventually take all U.S. soldiers in Iraq off the street and into their bases, letting Iraqis conduct most routine patrols. But, he adds, "America will probably have bases here for 10 to 12 years." Bremer assumes that the provisional government will want U.S. forces to help stabilize the country after next summer, and Talabani concurs—up to a point. "If we need (U.S. troops), we shall ask them to stay," he told TIME last week. "If not, we will respectfully say, 'Bye-bye, dear friends.'"

One bright note: the fighting within the Administration over Iraq policy may be ending. There are still some in the Pentagon who would like to see Iraq run by their longtime ally Ahmad Chalabi, a member of the Governing Council and the leader of the Iraqi National Congress, even though he clearly has little political support there. But the Pentagon, which has called the shots for a year, is finally giving in to reality. Strengthened by the addition of Blackwill, a tough operator with a nice trifecta on his resume—he worked for the President's dad, mentored Rice when she was a junior staffer at the National Security Council and has been a close friend of Bremer's for 30 years—the White House may finally be getting everyone in Washington to pull in the same direction.

Still, neat lines of accountability do not guarantee the success of so audacious an enterprise as the American determination to remake Iraq. In any war, older and elemental loyalties, beliefs and suspicions can wreck even carefully laid plans. In a small town west of Ramadi last week, dozens of Iraqis milled around the shell of a house that had been wrecked a week before by missiles from a U.S. helicopter gunship, killing six resistance fighters.

The visitors were there because they had heard—and believed—the rumors. The place, they said, smelled not of death but of sweet perfume; the bloodstains on the wall had not turned a rusty black but had stayed deep red. These miracles, said the people in the crowd, were acts of Allah.

"We don't want Saddam. We don't want the Americans," said Hamid Thabit, who drove 15 miles to the house many times last week. "We want someone who will look after the Iraqi people." Asked if he had anyone in mind, he replied, "No. There is no one now." Nearby, a young history student who had driven three hours to the site placed bits of rubble in a small plastic bag. "I will put it in my home," the student said. "It is holy."

—Reported by Timothy J. Burger, Massimo Calabresi, Matthew Cooper, Michael Duffy, Mark Thompson, Douglas Waller and Adam Zagorin/ Washington; Brian Bennett/Ramadi; Hassan Fattah, Romesh Ratnesar and Vivienne Walt/ Baghdad; and James Graff/Paris