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...
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