The war hits home

At the moment the war began, Khadouri Alkeysi was nestled in bed reading the paper in his suburban New Jersey home. His son, who was watching television in the living room, began calling to him: "Dad, Dad! They're bombing Baghdad. Come on!"

Mr. Alkeysi, an Iraqi-born American citizen, did not leap up to watch video of Cruise missile strikes. Instead, gripped with anxiety, he leaned over, picked up the phone, and dialed.

The line was silent for 10 or 15 seconds. Then it started to ring. It rang and rang, until a low buzz came on. Then he was disconnected. His family back in Baghdad wasn't answering.

In Baghdad, the Haidari family thought they were prepared for the start of a bombing campaign they had long anticipated. But as the full power of US bombs shook their neighborhood, this family of well-known artists found they hadn't understood the magnitude of what was going to happen.

Among other things they hadn't anticipated: the sound of a symphony of breaking glass.

"Slappy," meanwhile, was just waking up. Or being awakened, rather, by the beam of a flashlight in his face. His squad commander had called. He was "stepping" - flying an attack mission - in 25 minutes.

That meant there was no time for the Air Force captain to shower. After a dash of baby powder and a shave, he zipped into his flight suit in the tiny trailer he shares with two others from the 75th Tiger Sharks.

"We will sleep better knowing that you're defending freedom for us," said roommate "Tag," still snug beneath the covers. "Make sure you shut the light off when you leave."

In London, Robert Laughlin was already having a bad week. On Monday, antiwar protesters had invaded the floor of the International Petroleum Exchange, where he works as a trader. Work stopped for several hours. On Tuesday, oil prices had fallen 10 percent in a single day. The mood in the trading pit had turned ferocious. Now the phone was ringing at 3:15 a.m. "It's starting," said the voice on the other end.

The onset of the US-led war with Iraq has released a coiled spring of energy and emotion in people all around the globe.

Peace demonstrators have rushed into the streets at the same time that families of troops in conflict have rushed together for support. Iraqi expatriates worry about those they've left behind, while some wish most fervently for their homeland's liberation. Old Europe decries the new imperial America, while American officials retort that France and Germany have lost their moral bearings.

This human vigor will ripple outward for months, if not years, to come. Thus news of military advances tell only one dimension of this conflict. There are personal stories as well. As these accounts from Cairo to the Carolinas show, this "new" war of the 21st century is affecting people in new ways - ways that may foretell how it will ultimately impact the world.

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The day after war started with a US cruise missile strike against Iraqi leadership targets, Khadouri Alkeysi awoke at 8 a.m. He had slept little the night before. Three sisters and their families live in Baghdad; a fourth lives in Basra, in southern Iraq. He had tried to reach them continually, but without success.

The rest of the family - his two grown sons live at home - was still sleeping, so he turned on the news, but kept the volume low. He ate some pita bread and cheese, then dialed Iraq, again without success.

A slight man with gray hair, Mr. Alkeysi was born to an upper-middle-class Iraqi family and came to the US to attend college in 1963. He graduated, married, and settled in the New York area. He became a citizen in 1979 and eventually went to work for Iraqi Airlines.

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