Inside the 'most intense' fight yet

Meanwhile, a severe sandstorm Tuesday and Wednesday limited visibility to a few yards, allowing the enemy to approach to as close as 20 feet before the cavalrymen spotted them. "We were moving to secure a bridge and were ambushed by nine to 10 Iraqi soldiers only 20 feet away," says Capt. Jeff McCoy, 3-7th's Charlie troop commander.

It was McCoy's first battle. "You're constantly terrified, but you don't realize it until it's over," he said as he prepared for a day's rest.

The intense, closein combat meant that the 3-7th Cavalry burned more fuel and shot more small-arms ammunition than expected. At the end of five days of fighting, a sizable portion of the cavalry at Najaf was running "black" or "near empty" on 7.62-millimeter machine-gun ammunition and fuel, with some vehicles having only 30 minutes' worth of gas left.

But the cavalry had used only about one-eighth of its main-gun tank rounds, Ferrell says. Going into Iraq, the 3rd Infantry Division "didn't carry as much ammunition as we could have, because we didn't think we'd face this level of resistance," says one Army colonel.

Moreover, the bad weather grounded Army helicopters, so 3-7th commanders called in strikes by Air Force bombers that fired some 24 precision-guided missiles on enemy targets Tuesday night alone. They also ordered a devastating artillery barrage of 12 rockets from a multiple-launch rocket system.

While the 3-7th Cavalry fought off the attacks and disengaged, it did lose two M1A1 tanks and one Bradley fighting vehicle to enemy fire, probably by antitank missiles. Still, in a test of the M1A1 design, all eight crew members escaped the two tanks, including the driver of one who couldn't get out until the tank's ammunition had detonated.

"The ammunition was cooking off and raining flames down in front of him, and when it was done, he just jumped out," says Captain O'Sullivan. Unable to maneuver in the muddy soil, the tanks and other armored vehicles were forced to stay on a road adjacent to Najaf, taking enemy machine-gun fire, mortar rounds, and rocket-propelled grenades, "like ducks in a row," he says.

Soldiers say the last few days for them have been a blur of enemy tracer rounds, sand, and gunfire. "I don't know what day it is anymore, says O'Sullivan, who spent the last four days without getting out of his tank. "I've been sleeping standing up for one half hour at a time. My mouth doesn't work anymore," he said.

The 3-7th Cavalry soldiers are gaining needed rest and their first hot meal in days in an encampment tonight. They say, however, that they are ready to refit and resupply, and rejoin the battle. "I'm mad," said Sergeant Ositis, who lost his tank. "Blowing up my tank was like blowing up my home. I've lived there for three months. The photos of my wife were in there."

Ositis and his comrades fought in the bold tradition of their historic cavalry unit, which traces its heritage back to General Custer. But today, their faces wore the somber expressions of young men aged and jaded by war.

"Everyone thought it would be like in 1991, when they gave up in floods," says Ositis. "Now, I've shot a lot of people, and not one has given up."

His fellow crewman agrees. "The same people in civilian towns who wave to us when we roll through are the ones who grab AK-47s at night and fire them at us," says Sgt. 1st Class Curtis Anderson from Sacramento, Calif. "It really isn't safe anywhere. I don't trust anyone."

As they worked on their vehicles in white T-shirts, the soldiers couldn't get the images of the clash out of their minds. When Sgt. James Davis from Cherokee, N.C., thinks of the last several days, he sees the bright white streaks of enemy tracers. "We didn't know at times if we'd make it. You've got to be right with God."

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