"This is the part of my job I thought I'd never have to do," said Sergeant Joseph Garcia as he prepared to call the parents of Corporal Luis Santos. Santos was killed by an IED [improvised explosive device]. As Santos' friend and sergeant, Garcia prepared to call and comfort the parents about the loss of their son. Though Garcia and many others in the platoon had served prior tours of duty in Iraq, the death of Santos was the first time most of them had lost someone in their unit to the fighting.

Six months into their present tour in Iraq, already over a quarter Stalker's forty-odd-man platoon has been awarded the Purple Heart for injuries received from enemy contact. IEDs have destroyed six humvees and of those wounded four returned to the United States for medical treatment and recovery. Santos has been the only fatality.

Returning to their base after Santos' memorial service, Sergeant First Class Michael Greer's humvee struck an IED that destroyed the front end of his vehicle. Greer suffered a massive bruise on his leg, and his gunner, Private First Class Chad Munn took a blow to the head when the blast threw him into his machine gun. Both men returned to duty the next day. Aside from those minor injuries and some shaken nerves, everyone was fine.

"Man, this has been an ugly tour," said Staff Sergeant Eric Moroge currently serving his second tour. Joking that he'll suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder he adds, "I'm going to be like one of those (crazy) Vietnam veterans."

The loss of a comrade combined with other serious casualties brought home to many in the platoon for the first time the gravity of what they're doing and raised new questions about the direction of the war.

While the death of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, leader of Al-Qaeda in Iraq, made front-page news, those in Stalker platoon doubt his death will change anything for the better. Within four days of Zarqawi's death Stalker platoon lost three humvees and Corporal Santos to IEDs. It was the most effective and consistent resistance that the platoon experienced since their arrival.

As part of the unit credited with killing Zarqawi, some believe the increased violence represents the insurgents' response. "We're being punished for Zarqawi's death," said Sergeant Ken Fahr.

Before taking such serious casualties, some soldiers talked about going home on leave and exaggerating Iraq to strangers who asked about their experiences. "People would ask me if it's as bad as the news makes it out to be over here," chuckled Private First Class Matt Graham. "I'd say, 'It's worse. The news only shows the good stuff.'"

Now with the human cost of the war and its possible consequences made all too clear, soldiers engage in more sober reflection. Private First Class Matt Gundy and Specialist Tony "Chico" Chicoine both agree that Iraq is nothing like World War II or Vietnam in terms of intensity, but says Chico, "We're America's next generation of war veterans."

Chico and Gundy wonder how they'll deal this new label. Before losing a friend, Chico wasn't certain how to respond to people who approached him and said they appreciated what he was doing or thought he was a "hero." He and Gundy refuse the label of hero, but Chico says after losing his friend he can understand why some people want to thank him for volunteering for something so difficult. Still the two worry what to tell people at home in America who don't understand what it's like serving a tour of duty in Iraq.

In the past six months, Stalker platoon has only engaged in three firefights. In one they never even saw the enemy, though they could hear them talking and reloading. When an IED detonates, the streets are usually empty. There's nothing to shoot at but empty buildings. The night Santos died soldiers didn't have to worry about taking enemy fire or advancing on an enemy position. While a few soldiers searched for a possible IED trigger man and fired at potential hiding spots, everyone else was free to administer first aid and comfort the wounded.

Battling a seemingly invisible enemy intensifies the violence, many soldiers begin to feel real fear. Before going out on a mission Private First Class Zach Lindsley says he gets the shakes. Sitting down to dinner after a wave of IEDs, a soldier told Specialist Tom Carpenter to enjoy his meal. "Who knows," responded Carpenter. "It might be my last."

As Stalker platoon continues to take an unusually high amount of casualties some soldiers begin to wonder if their commanders are involved in a secret conspiracy to kill their own soldiers. "The Lieutenant Colonel [Tom Fisher] isn't going to be happy until we're all dead or we're all dead," said Private First Class Graham.

"It's going to get worse before it gets better," said Specialist Robbie Mathis.

Despite feeling discouraged, soldiers try to remind themselves that they volunteered to do a risky job. "No matter what we do they'll find a way to beat it," said Sergeant Ken Fahr. "More people might die, but this is our job."

Corporal Luis "Toast" Santos

Corporal Luis Santos had an inside joke with everyone who got to know him. After he was killed by an IED, soldiers throughout Stalker platoon couldn't help but break into fits of laughter telling stories about him. The last time Sergeant Jesse Trumpore saw Luis alive, he quoted a line from comic Dave Chapelle, Trumpore laughed out loud, Luis smiled, loaded into a humvee and died shortly thereafter.

When Luis died, members of Stalker platoon were conducting routine, three-day observation posts in the Naquib area outside Baquba. Few good things happen in Naquib, so the platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class Michael Greer hoped his platoon might catch the "bad guys" in the act.

A day into the operation Greer received intelligence that a group of insurgents had planned an attack on a nearby village. Hoping to intercept the attackers, Greer decided to shift locations.

Driving to the new position, Staff Sergeant Nicodemus' humvee hit the first IED. An orange flash and smoke filled the vehicle. Objects from the trunk warped and blew into the cab. As the humvee settled, Nicodemus momentarily lost composure and panicked trying to take stock of the situation and inquire about the safety of his crew. Medic Tom Siqueros moved in to calm him.

Miraculously everyone in Nicodemus' humvee survived the blast virtually unharmed—Nicodemus suffered a minor burn on his back. Though the IED completely destroyed the humvee, it had detonated under the only empty seat. Once a support convoy arrived to recover the damaged humvee, the rest of Stalker continued with the mission.

The second IED of the night that killed Santos detonated only several miles down the road from Nicodemus' damaged truck. The blast rocked the middle of the Stalker convoy, hitting Staff Sergeant Andy Overgard's humvee. Alone the IED might not have been lethal, but it triggered explosives soldiers were carrying inside the vehicle. After the blast, the remains of the humvee lay upside down and flaming.

The blast threw everyone, but Overgard from the vehicle. Trapped momentarily in the burning humvee, he suffered severe burns on his arm and head. His injuries required that he return to the United States for further treatment and recovery.

Badly shaken, Staff Sergeant Eric Moroge initially thought he'd lost his legs, but ultimately he and the driver walked away with minor injuries. The medics feared the worst for Specialist Robbie Mathis, who couldn't feel below his waist; however, after hospital treatment doctors discovered he'd suffered serious internal bruises. With a week of rest Mathis could return to duty.

Sergeant Joseph Garcia, a friend and a mentor to Luis Santos, found him face down outside the burning humvee. He rolled Santos over and saw shrapnel had gone through his face. He'd died instantly. There was nothing anyone could do, but treat the wounded and remember their fallen friend and comrade.

Luis, or "Toast," had a way of making bad situations good. When Sergeant Joseph Garcia punished him for writing "hungry" instead of "Hunsuck" all over Private First Class Brian Hunsuck's equipment—Hunsuck was Toast's pudgy friend and humvee crew member—Toast spent ten minutes doing push-ups, sit ups, squat thrusts, and lunges. Throughout the punishment session Toast couldn't stop smiling. When he tried to tell Private First Class Matt Graham what happened, Toast was laughing so hard it took him several minutes and multiple tries to get the story out.

Iraq and the Army had worn down Toast. "I just want to get out of the Army and go to college," said Toast one afternoon on guard duty. Recently having been promoted from private first class to specialist, he complained that the sergeants restricted him from taking a more proactive role around base. Simple chores, like taking out trash or cleaning up common areas never bothered Santos. It made him feel uncomfortable and lazy when the sergeants forced him to dole out these tasks to privates.

Despite his complaints about the Army, Toast was just a guy who liked his job. When he joined the Army, he told the recruiter that he wanted to be a James Bond-like spy. If he decided not to go to college he would have tried out for special forces. Santos loved adventure.

Less than a month before the IED, Toast turned twenty. Sergeant Jordan Savor, a close friend of Santos, remembers a time back in the States when he left Toast alone in the car for nearly twenty minutes while he ran an errand. As soon as Savor returned, Toast—who'd clearly been thinking about this for the last twenty minutes—asked if the president was commander and chief of the entire military, could he just wear whatever uniform he wanted? Could he wake up one day and put on an Air Force uniform and the next day maybe a Navy uniform?

When Luis got drunk, he spent most of the night apologizing to everyone for being so drunk. Speaking at Toast's memorial service, Specialist Tony Chicoine said he was certain that if Santos could see everyone, he'd be apologizing for making everyone feel so sad.

Corporal Luis Santos died in an IED blast a few days ago. He had just turned 20 in May, and was going to get married in about three weeks during his midtour leave. He was a good listener, a friend to everyone, and an all around good guy.

My next two posts will explain what happened and tell more about who he was as an individual.

After finding a potential IED (improvised explosive device), an American unit patrolling with the Iraqi Army calls out Stalker platoon to further investigate and possibly remove the IED. Upon arriving Stalker's engineer, Staff Sergeant Andy Overgard immediately discovers that the IED emplacer only laid out the detonator switch with no explosives. The joint American-Iraqi Army patrol leaves Stalker to search the area for any further traces of IED activity.

One of the soldiers sights a suspicious can and Private First Class Ben Merkel uses his humvee's .50 caliber machine gun to fire at the can, which would be enough to trigger an explosion if the can was indeed an IED. However, Sergeant First Class Mike Greer decides to fire at the can with his Bradley's 25mm cannon and ignites something of a firing orgy as all the soldiers on the ground open up into the can with their personal weapons. Even the medic, Private First Class Matt Graham shoots at the can with his 9mm pistol. At a distance of over one hundred meters it would be nearly impossible for Graham to hit the target with his pistol.

Everyone chuckles as they either watch or participate in the shooting spree. Later Staff Sergeant Eric Moroge laughs, "We're just big kids with toys."

Sergeant Jesse Trumpore agrees, "It's like fucked up Boy Scouts at summer camp."

Even in a war zone, soldiers still retain a certain amount of youthful playfulness. In a war where boredom is often the most abundant commodity, soldiers eager to use their equipment and lacerate the monotony often find odd outlets for entertainment.

Though Captain John Hintz prides himself in his soldiers' professionalism, he still considers most of them kids. The majority of people in the platoon are under the age of twenty-five, with several soldiers still under twenty.

Hintz's former driver, Specialist Ryan O'Connor recently turned nineteen. Specialist Luis Santos became mildly depressed when he turned twenty in Iraq and realized that his teens were over. At twenty-nine years old, soldiers often joke that Private First Class Merkel, who joined the Army later in life, is an old man. Hintz and Greer, the most senior ranking soldiers in the platoon are both thirty-five.

Given the age difference between Hintz and most of his soldiers, he says, "Sometimes I can't believe the conversations I have out here."

While their sergeants run errands at Warhorse, a large base, Private First Class Brian Hunsuck and Private First Class Graham, twenty and twenty-one respectively, sit inside their humvees monitoring the radios.

Graham radios to Hunsuck, "Stalker 1 Delta, Stalker 3 Delta."

"This is Stalker 3 Delta," replies Hunsuck using the official radio jargon.

"Would you like to come to a party?"

"Roger. Could I get a vicinity location for the party?" Inquires Hunsuck.

"Roger that," responds Graham. "It's in my pants."

Given the nature of Iraq's insurgency, soldiers seldom have the opportunity to use their weapons or equipment in actual combat scenarios. Sergeant Jesse Trumpore used his own money to purchase a high-power scope for his M-16 rifle not because he thought he'd need of pick off enemies at long range, he just want it so he could use it mostly as something of a telescope. While he enjoys testing how far he can accurately fire his rifle at the range, he doubts he'll ever use it on the battlefield.

With a seeming excess of high-tech equipment and limited opportunities to use it all, soldiers often have impromptu shooting sessions on patrols in the rural areas of Iraq. Sergeant First Class Greer and his platoon are especially notorious seeking out any possible opportunity to test their weapons and equipment on mission. Walking along a canal with his interpreter, AT4, Greer shouts, "There's a fish! Shoot it, AT4!" AT4 pops several rounds into the water and the group heads back to the truck.

Searching for a possible weapons cache along the Diyala River, Staff Sergeant Eric Moroge jokingly asks Greer if he can throw a fragmentation grenade into the river. Greer shrugs his shoulders. "Go ahead," he says. "Just be careful."

Moroge tosses the grenade, the ground vibrates, the water bubbles and several small fish float to the surface, some dead, some stunned. Sergeant Jordan Savor and Private First Class Zach Lindsley join in the fun and throw their fragmentation grenades in the river too. More fish float to the surface.

"What we're doing here is feeding the crabs," says Greer.

Watching birds swoop in to eat the fish, Moroge suggests an alternative use for insurgents' roadside bombs. "Haji should use IEDs [improvised explosive devices] to go fishing," says Moroge. "Throw a 155 artillery round in the water."

After capturing several men mortaring an Iraqi Army checkpoint, several soldiers from Stalker platoon had to wait and guard the men while others searched for any accomplices. The mortar team had fled in their personal car, so while the soldiers waited for the search to end they created a small racetrack around the village, and took turns speeding through their mini racetrack. The fun abruptly stopped when the older, high-ranking officers from headquarters stopped to check in.

At nine in the evening AT4, Stalker Platoon's interpreter, sprawled out on the common area couch. Though he denied that been drinking, the smell of cheap vodka radiated within a five meter radius of him and eyes struggled to focus as he stared at nothing in particular.

"Before I started working for the Coalition Forces, my friend told me that when the Coalition Forces leave Iraq they'll kill all the translators," said AT4 to anyone willing to listen. He'd always assumed his friend's warning constituted one of Iraq's numerous rumors, but now he wonders.

Immediately following the 2003 invasion, AT4 began working for the Coalition Forces as a laundry room attendant. A year later, he'd improved his English enough that the Army selected him to work as an interpreter. Now, nineteen years old, AT4 has little to show for his work except a substantial savings from the money he made translating.

When he started working with the Americans, AT4 used to send his family the majority of his salary. However, insurgents began to threaten his family and AT4 refused to quit his job, creating tension within the family. Soon other personal disagreements intensified and AT4 cut all ties with his family. He no longer knows where his family lives.

AT4 has met and worked with at least four separate groups of soldiers. Especially when he became an interpreter and began working closely with the troops, he forged personal relationships with many of them.

According to AT4, soldiers from every group offered to help him come to America, but three and a half years later he's still in Iraq. No one has even helped him fill out a visa application. Unable to read or write English, AT4 is unable to do the application alone.

Moose, AT4's friend and fellow interpreter, forged a relationship with a lieutenant from the last unit that cycled through Iraq. Though he started the paper work and claimed to be on verge of getting Moose a visa, the lieutenant no longer returns Moose's calls or e-mails.

"Fuck the Coalition Forces," said AT4 as he stared drunkenly at the ceiling. "They always promise, but never help you." Again he remembers his friend's warning.

Since working with the Coalition Forces, AT4 has never had a real vacation. He couldn't visit his family after the threats started and had no other place to go.

Recently, one of the main mosques in Baquba broadcast AT4 real and complete name, declaring that they would kill him unless he started supplying insurgents with information about Coalition Forces. Several Iraqis painted his name around town, identifying him as a traitor.

Hoping to give AT4 a break and a chance to clear his head, Sergeant First Class Michael Greer agreed to let him take two weeks off. AT4 wouldn't go anywhere during that time, just hang around the main base with friends who worked there. One day into the vacation, however, AT4 had to return to work. A new restriction forbad him from moving around base without an escort. With his platoon operating out of a different, smaller base and unable to provide an escort AT4 was sent back to work.

The canceled vacation seemed to break AT4. He wanted to quit, but with the new contract on his head it would be impossible for him to live safely in Iraq. Emigration appeared the only imaginable option, but once again AT4 recalled everyone's empty promises.

Inebriated, AT4 told Staff Sergeant Quintana and Specialist Pearce that he planned to kill himself if nothing worked out.

While no one thought AT4 would actually kill himself, everyone worried. Quintana considered writing an editorial letter to Stars and Stripes, the official military newspaper about AT4's situation hoping to get the attention of someone who might help. Before he was transferred to another platoon, Staff Sergeant Chris Edwards said he planned to write a letter to his congressman.

Soldiers like Sergeant Ken Fahr, Greer, and numerous others have told AT4 he's always welcome to live at their houses if he comes to America.

Despite soldiers' good intentions, the problem remains that no one takes steps towards a concrete solution. Many soldiers don't understand the logistics required for an American citizen to travel internationally, let alone how the visa process works for foreign nationals wishing to immigrate to America. No one's quite sure how to help.

Additionally, AT4's apparent apathy fails to motivate people to help. On several occasions, with no excuses or apologies, AT4 missed meetings with people who'd offered to discuss ways to leave Iraq. Remembering that AT4 is only nineteen Sergeant First Class Greer says, "He needs to figure out what he wants to do first."

The night after his drinking binge, AT4 was still frustrated, but quiet. He went on a mission, interpreted for the Army, and returned to base. After the mission soldiers took care of several maintenance chores, some went on guard, and the rest returned to their rooms to watch movies, play video games, or socialize. AT4 called several Iraqi friends on his mobile, then sat outside in silence before playing a video game and going to sleep.

Private First Class Matt Graham walks away giggling as Private First Class Davis and SSG Andy Overgard take pot shots and a suspected IED.

Specialist Luis Santos driving a bobcat full of trash and assorted junk.

At the peak of Iraq's midday heat Specialist Luis Santos methodically pumps out push-ups. A group of sergeants sit in the shade watching and chatting about creating a cleaning schedule. Sergeant Joseph Garcia pauses for a moment so he can tell Santos to rest for a moment and then start doing sit-ups. Santos isn't exercising, he's getting "smoked."

Sergeant First Class Greer, the platoon leader, seems to take note of Santos for the first time and asks, "What's going on with him?"

"Santos and Hunsuck are kind of like brothers who have a love-hate relationship," chuckles Garcia. Before explaining further, Garcia asks Private First Class Brian Hunsuck, who's been sitting with the sergeants watching Santos get smoked, to leave.

Hunsuck and Santos, who both work on Garcia's humvee had gotten into a petty rivalry. A clever, passive-aggressive guy, Hunsuck had taken to finding ways of indirectly bringing Santos' faults to the attention of the sergeants who would then punish Santos.

Santos retaliated by giving Hunsuck, who never outgrew his baby fat, the nickname "Hungry." Soon everyone in the platoon called Hunsuck "Hungry." The situation finally boiled over when Santos added "ungry" behind the "H" on all Hunsuck's ammunition magazines.

After getting smoked for ten minutes, Santos promised Garcia he wouldn't tease Hunsuck again.

Half way into their deployment, personal conflicts between soldiers simmer to the surface. In the States soldiers can go home after work and escape office politics, but deployed in Iraq, living together in close quarters, soldiers have no way to escape work-related frustrations.

Within a platoon humvee crews compose the core-operating group for soldiers. The crews range from three to five men and do almost everything together. Aside from spending entire days crammed together in a humvee, back at base soldiers pull guard shifts with the same people from the their truck. Crews often eat meals together in the dining hall so one person won't get left behind if the crew has to leave suddenly.

This type of closeness can build strong friendships, but it can also cultivate intense feuds. Hoping to improve platoon relations, Captain John Hintz and Sergeant First Class Mike Greer decided to rearrange the personnel on each humvee.

After nearly five months on Staff Sergeant Jon Foster's humvee, platoon medic Private First Class Matt Graham became convinced that Foster harbored a deep-seeded resentment towards Graham and all Army medics. "Sergeant Foster hates me," complains Graham.

Though Graham can't exactly explain why, he and Foster simply don't get along. "I remember in basic training, my drill instructor said there'd always be at least one guy in your platoon you'd hate," says Graham. Six months into the deployment the sight of Staff Sergeant Foster irritates him. After moving to a new humvee Graham says that he and Foster still aren't buddies, "But now I'd say about 50% of the time we have friendly interactions," says Graham.

In an even more extreme case, Staff Sergeant Andy Overgard and Staff Sergeant Chris Edwards changed platoons, which meant the two off them had to move to entirely new bases. Overgard and his platoon sergeant suffered from several personal disagreements. Edwards had originally been part of Overgard's platoon, but for operational reasons he and several other engineers were attached to Stalker platoon. When the conflict arose between Overgard and his platoon leader, Overgard and Edwards were ordered to switch places.

While Overgard and his platoon leader's disagreement was more or less a dispute among peers, low ranking soldiers begin to wallow in yet another layer of frustration as they find themselves unable to escape their bosses, the sergeants.

"You forget that this is a war," says Private First Class Brian D'Archangelo complaining about the excess menial tasks assigned to privates and specialists.

"That's the problem. There's so little fighting to do that we just drive around and then we come back [to base] so [sergeants] can look for stuff for us to do," says Specialist Tony Chicoine commiserating with D'Archangelo.

"They should rename this war 'Operation Private Freedom,'" jokes D'Archangelo.

While privates have probably complained like this for as long as armies have existed, low-ranking enlisted soldiers feel that the excess of trivial chores required of them are further reflection that Iraq is anything but the all out war they'd imagined. Instead soldiers find themselves getting worried about the mundane aspects of life.

After a mission, platoon leader Sergeant First Class Mike Greer calls together the entire platoon for a meeting, a rare occurrence. No one's certain what issue the meeting will address as they crowd together in the base's common area and wait for Greer to start the meeting. When everyone has come together Greer begins the meeting.

"I'm tired of finding shit streaks in the toilets. There are brushes next to every toilet for a reason," says Greer. He goes on to explain the filthy condition of the bathroom--soiled boxer shorts behind toilets, pools of water on the floor--and threatens to make soldiers take turns standing guard over the bathroom wearing all fifteen kilograms of their equipment if it ever happens again.

"Hoohah!" Grunts the platoon, using the Armies enthusiastic battle cry and universal sign of acknowledgement to affirm their newfound commitment to streak-free toilets.

Driving past a small village Private First Class Jose Soltero brings the humvee to a halt without warning. Soltero's humvee commander, Staff Sergeant Jon Foster, overcomes his momentary annoyance when he sees what Soltero had stopped for, a man in civilian clothing carrying a radio and an AK-47 assault rifle. Everyone pours out of the humvee with guns drawn and the Iraqi immediately sets down his weapon.

While every Iraqi household is allowed one AK-47, the law requires Iraqis to keep the gun in their homes. Additionally, the combination of a rifle and a radio raises suspicions that he may be conducting a coordinated insurgent operation.

Negotiating situations like these have become standard for American soldiers, yet they still present a serious challenge. Soldiers are forced to interpret laws and act almost as politicians as they make sense of what many see as a lawless country.

The man tries to explain that he's an off duty Iraqi police officer patrolling his neighborhood, home to a major in the Iraqi Police, as well as other police officers. He's new to the force so he lacks both a uniform and a police identification card. As he explains other men with radios begin to surface, backing his story and also claiming to be police officers.

Meanwhile, a group of soldiers searches the nearest house. Clearing the back of the house Sergeant Ken Fahr shoots a dog, claiming that it charged him. Inside the house soldiers find multiple AK-47s with a substantial amount of ammunition, two PKCs (belt-fed machine guns), radios, and other military accessories. Unless the men can produce proof that they're part of the Iraqi Police force Sergeant Jesse Trumpore wants to detain them immediately.

A couple manage to produce tattered "weapons carrier" cards, which entitle them to carry one weapon, but of the five men who all claim to be Iraqi Police officers no one can produce any form of identification.

One man gives Sergeant Joseph Garcia a folder of poorly photocopied employee registration forms from the Department of Interior. Garcia passes the folder to the interpreter, "They have these, but it's just a bunch of photocopies," says Garcia dismissively. "This is bull shit."

The supposed Iraqi police officers try to explain that they use the house as a make shift base to protect the Iraqi Police major and other members of their community. However, suspicion continues to mount as the ongoing house search yields no police uniforms or paraphernalia, only weapons and radios.

After nearly ten minutes of searching and questioning, uniformed Iraqi Police arrive in official police vehicles and the police major follows dressed in civilian clothing. The major and multiple police officers confirm their un-uniformed police counterparts' story.

"I'm sorry about this," says the police major. "It's very difficult for us to give all of our new employees ID cards immediately, but you were right to investigate the situation.

Staff Sergeant Foster apologizes and the situation seems resolved; however, shortly after Foster's patrol leaves the major discovers that someone shot his dog. Hoping for an explanation he calls Lieutenant Colonel Tom Fisher. "I understand why they stopped my men, but did they have to shot my dog?" Complains the major.

Upon hearing the news Sergeant Fahr jokes, "I created an international incident!" Immediately following the raid, Fahr returned to his humvee and said, "I'm not sorry at all. We did the right thing." Fahr and other soldiers share the belief that these Iraqi Police are corrupt, despite the backing of an Iraqi Police major and an American Lieutenant Colonel.

As people continue to bring up the dog-shooting, Fahr tries to justify his actions, "It had mange," says Fahr. "It looked like a stray."

"Maybe to you, but to someone else it was a pet," says Sergeant First Class Mike Greer. "No one takes care of their dogs in this country."

Hoping to resolve the situation, Captain Lynch, the new Attack Company commander finds a puppy and delivers it to the Foster's platoon so they can give it to the major and make amends.

Among those who question the Iraqi Police unit's credibility, the move is seen as the new company commander's attempt at playing politics with a disregard of reality. "This has got to be the craziest thing I've ever done in Iraq, given a dog to a bunch of organized crime gurus," says Sergeant Jesse Trumpore. "Captain Lynch got [the major] the dog because he has no spine."

Despite doubts among soldiers, the major and his police genuinely appreciate the gesture. The major takes the dog with a smile and reiterates his support for the American patrol's action. "What you did was right, because you saw men with guns," he says. The major's men show the Americans their new official police IDs.

"Please join us for lunch," insists the major patting Staff Sergeant Foster on the back. Foster apologizes and explains they still have more to do, but the next time he returns to the area they'll drink tea together. The major laughs and waves to the patrol as it leaves.