Steven Vincent was on the scene at the Karbala attack this week. This one, and his piece yesterday, give a real look at the complications on the ground. A sample: “By now, Samir had convinced me to get in the car. But the sight of two men preparing to drive from the city center aroused suspicion. A crowd descended, preventing our departure. A policeman ran up, demanding to know my identity, and when I told him I was an American journalist, the Iraqis stiffened as if electrified. One man began screaming at me, another seized my notebook and tape recorder. Meanwhile, I overheard the policeman shouting “Amrikiyya, Amrikiyya!” to Samir, who responded, “Wahabbi, Wahabbi!” My heart stopped. The policeman — and, I could see, the crowd as well — clearly believed that America had planted the bombs and their anger toward me was mounting. But Samir — a man I barely knew — was defending me to the officer and the surrounding Iraqis, arguing that al Qaeda, and not the U.S., had attacked the pilgrims. Let us go, he cried in Arabic. With an angry gesture, the officer relented, pressing the crowd back as Samir bolted down the road, blasting his horn, and he weaved in and out of ambulances and police vehicles rushing into the city.”