Scions of the Surge

Before too long, IED attacks were dropping sharply. There were far fewer exchanges of small-arms fire between the Americans and locals. More shops opened up in central Bayaa, and new orange metal trash bins were installed in the market area with U.S. funds. Throughout Iraq U.S. commanders are doling out money to help revive neighborhoods, especially Sunni areas that have been ignored by the central government. Some $767 million has already been allocated for the purpose this year, and the Pentagon plans to ask Congress for $450 million more.

Wright's dealings with the enemy made some of his soldiers uncomfortable. "It's hard," says Lt. Andrew Goehring, 24. "There are guys who condoned or supported attacks that affected our guys." (Goehring's own Humvee was blown up by an IED.) First Sgt. Darrell Snell, 38, a career soldier, tries not to think about his captain's shadowy contacts with the likes of Mr. X. Instead, he focuses on the children in the street when he goes on patrol. "I just put it in my head that the kids didn't do it," he says. "That's how I deal with it."

Petraeus himself now speaks regularly to Sadrist political reps. But he is mindful of how hard it is for soldiers in the field to reach out to fighters who have killed Americans: "That's a pretty big adjustment and has taken some, ah, a bit of intellectual discussion." Wright has a more emotional response. He notes that when Delta Company first arrived, its ability to shoot back was restrained by strict rules of engagement (ROE) designed to protect innocent civilians from getting caught in a fire fight. "Especially when we were getting hit a lot, there was a feeling of frustration of how 'tied' our hands were by ROE, that if anyone shot at us from a house that we should respond with overwhelming force, call in the artillery and rubble the place," he says. "When you had just had one of your friends shot in the head in front of you, who wouldn't feel that way?"

Officers all across Iraq are coming to grips with Wright's dilemma. And the challenge they face—how to reconcile with your enemies—is exactly that confronted by the Iraqis, too. The drop in violence since Petraeus took command in Iraq is dramatic and irrefutable. But as he would be the first to admit, it's been won by cutting all these side deals, buying off former and potential fighters with temporary salaries and the promise of jobs in the Army and police. Already there are frictions. Sahwa fighters complain about low pay ($10 a day) and resistance from the central government to hiring them. Some have abandoned their checkpoints. Most have tense relations with the Shiite-dominated security forces. In some neighborhoods local fighters will not allow the National Police in. At one hospital in the Baghdad district of Adhamiya, the Iraqi Army guards the gates, Sunni fighters guard the doors, and there is little communication between them. The Americans are the glue that holds it all together.

Wright knows that violence could erupt again unless the strongmen he deals with embrace the central government and vice versa. The Americans have to stand up the Iraqi Army and police until they can "run the show," says Wright. At the same time, they have to "push, pull, drag, cajole and influence the leadership of the community to take an ever-increasing role in determining the future of Bayaa."

To that end, Wright has been gently but firmly pushing for an ambitious goal: the return of Sunnis driven from Bayaa by Shiite militias. On Feb. 4, about 20 tribal sheiks, councilmen, religious figures and other community leaders gathered at a local council building for talks. One of the guests was Abdullah, representing the shadowy Mr. X.