"You need to move forward in this city,'' translated the Marines' interpreter, who appeared to be from North Africa. "You need to get involved."
Speakers complained of the heavy American presence in the blasted city center, of sniper shootings, of arrests and raids. Unheard by Americans, the elders occasionally catcalled from the audience. One stood up to complain when a female American political adviser sat down next to a white-bearded imam. "Show some respect for the turban!" the man shouted.
"God bless you, God bless you," others in the audience added, after the woman moved to another seat.
"We haven't seen anything since Saddam fell!" another man shouted.
"I think it's really a helpful debate," a Marine watching from the back told a reporter, as Arab man after Arab man rose to complain of the U.S. military presence, some thrusting a finger at the Marines. One after another, Sunni men identified themselves by their officer rank in Iraq's former army as they spoke, as if Hussein's force was still in existence.
A Greater Enemy
"We hoped we would see an already made plan and not discuss it any more," another sheik, Anwar Khirbeet, said of the talk of American withdrawal. "People here are against the occupation forces. We frankly consider the current government as a terrorist government."
Khirbeet drew the only applause of the day when he warned that Sunni Arabs faced a greater enemy in Anbar than Americans: the Iranian-allied religious parties of Iraq's Shiite Muslim majority, now in power in Baghdad. "The occupation will end sooner or later; the most dangerous thing we can face is the Iranian involvement,'' he said, to loud clapping from the crowd.
"They'll bring us the Wolf Brigade next!" shouted a man in the audience, referring to the Interior Ministry force that many Sunnis allege is linked to the late-night kidnappings and killings of Sunnis.
By 3:15 p.m., five mortar rounds had landed outside, to the left of the meeting hall. The mortar fire was heavier than usual, Americans said, and clearly launched to make a point. Then, the nearest round of the day hit, apparently overshooting the building and striking to the right, making the windows rattle briefly in their frames.
"These spoilers out there are trying to intimidate,'' Williams said, taking note of the firing for the first time that day. "Not one of you blinked an eye. So that's very good."
The elders murmured, approvingly.
"We're here to work through the problems,'' Williams urged. "These are complex problems. There are not easy solutions, but there are solutions."
His words were translated differently, however. "I don't have any time to waste," is how they were conveyed by another army interpreter, an older Lebanese man, seemingly impatient after five hours of talks, and improvising in an apparent effort to bring them to a close. "Even if you all do have time to waste, today's not the day."
Thus prodded, Marines and tribal leaders reached an agreement: Anbar's elders would come up with a plan that would satisfy U.S. conditions for security and allow U.S. troops to pull out of Ramadi, and Williams would try to pitch it to Baghdad. Despite the disconnect, both sides had gotten across enough of their points to satisfy, at least to a degree.
"It may work," said one Hussein-era army commander, identifying himself as Gen. Sant-Rawi, standing up to go, just before the day's seventh mortar round landed outside.
Finer reported from Fallujah.
