Iraqis crowd the polls

"Now our confidence in our troops is much stronger," says an ING major, who asked not to be named.

Already there has been a major change in public attitudes, he says, citing an incident on the eve of voting, in which he says citizens threw candies at his troops.

"We give our people hope that we will defend them, and be ready all the time to serve them," the major says.

His words are echoed by the experience of US Army Col. Mike Murray, who says Iraqi forces have finally begun to grow into an election-day role that would have been impossible eight months ago.

"This can be a turning point for them," says Colonel Murray, from Kenton, Ohio. "It's going to be a boost for Iraqi forces, that they are pulling it off."

Lyrical predawn prayers broadcast Sunday from mosque minarets washed over a capital in waiting. Some voters uttered prayers as they ran a risk by taking their nation's first step toward democracy.

Within an hour, the trickle of voters at one station in the middle-class neighborhood of Karada turned into a stream, which - as a volley of mortar blasts sounded in the distance, to the southwest - turned into a steady flow.

While voters crowded to vote in Shiite areas such as the poor suburb of Sadr City, insurgent- and Sunni-dominated cities to the north and west, like Fallujah and Ramadi - where disgust at the vote runs deepest, and intimidation from extremist is most persuasive - reported some near-empty polling stations.

Turnout for the Sunni minority, which held power for decades under Saddam Hussein at the expense of the Shiite majority and minority Kurds - will shape the vote's legitimacy, analysts say.

Saying conditions weren't right, hard-line Sunni clerics declared a boycott of the election. Refugees from the Sunni city of Fallujah, the insurgent stronghold invaded and wrecked by US troops hunting guerrillas last November, remain bitter.

After decades of tasting power, they are doubly Iraq's biggest losers: part of a Sunni minority losing influence, and from a city that remains largely uninhabitable.

"Fallujans have one word about this election: 'No,'" says a sheikh who runs the Al-Mustafa mosque in Baghdad. "We will not participate in this election, because we don't believe America wants to give anyone anything."

While Washington and the interim Iraqi government said it timed the assault to allow elections to be held there, electrician Mizher al-Jumaili - who returned to his Fallujah house for the first time last week to find it destroyed by a tank shell and fire - says the opposite is true.

"This was the reason Fallujah was attacked, to prevent it from voting," says Mr. Jumaili, who refuses to vote, because most candidates are "too close" to Americans. "The government wanted to marginalize Fallujah," he asserts.

Determined not to be marginalized, a woman who gave her name only as Umm Ali, the mother of Ali, said she moved for three days out of Doura, a district on Baghdad's southern edge thick with insurgents, so she could vote in relative safety.

"I came here to relatives, because in Doura there are many [insurgent] operations," says Umm Ali, in broken English. "Everyone in my neighborhood had left to vote. I have no feeling of fear - Allah has won."

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