Unit's Mission: Survive 4 Miles To Remember Fallen Comrade

But near him, saying nothing at all, was Sgt. William W. Crow Jr., 28, husband and father of four. He had been wearing body armor, eye protection, ear protection, a throat protector, a groin protector, heat-resistant gloves and his helmet. He had been sitting in the right rear seat of a $119,000, up-armor Humvee, behind a thick glass window and a 400-pound door. When the bomb, consisting of parts costing less than $100, exploded, it turned a copper disc with a circumference of perhaps six inches into a huge bullet that penetrated the right rear door of the Humvee as if it were nothing more than a door on one of Baghdad's flimsy, decaying taxis.

Against such a weapon, optimally aimed and detonated, Crow didn't have a chance, and that was what King was thinking about as he plotted his route in advance of last week's trip.

The word on the street was that the day might be more dangerous than usual because it was the birthday of Fatima, daughter of the prophet Muhammad, and large crowds were predicted. Additionally, Sadr, the Shiite cleric, had reportedly issued an edict saying that soldiers should be targeted more heavily than usual for several days, and a tip had come in about a hidden IED along one of the routes that King was considering, meaning the easiest route was momentarily off limits.

With all that in mind, the plan he came up with, and which Taylor approved, involved beginning the trip just after curfew ended at 5 a.m. That way there would be people on the streets who the soldiers could watch for clues, but not so many people that clues couldn't be seen.

They would also try to avoid open areas and move along as many narrow streets as possible. That was because Shiites haven't shown a willingness to hurt their own people when detonating roadside bombs, although there were signs that was changing. A few days before, someone set off an IED as a convoy passed, even though a pregnant woman was in the way, which left her, according to photos taken by soldiers trying to save her, sprawled on the ground in shredded clothing, her face blackened and her rounded stomach coated with blood.

And they would drive -- but only some of the way. Most of the way they would walk, which is how they began at 5:15 a.m. Weighed down with 80 pounds of body armor, weapons and ammunition, and with the temperature already 90 degrees, 15 soldiers set off on foot, trailed by six Humvees, each containing a driver and gunner.

Their pace, as Taylor would put it later, was "deliberate . . . not a slow walk, not a fast walk. The pucker factor is pretty high."

It was still dark out so they navigated at first using night-vision goggles. They moved along sidewalks, rather than in the middle of the street. They maneuvered cautiously past several known hot spots, including one where a roadside bomb had exploded even though it was within sight of an Iraqi security forces checkpoint. And then, safely past, they got in their Humvees to travel the next several blocks.

By now they had been out for nearly an hour. The sun was up and they took off their night-vision gear, then resumed walking as they neared a street that in June had become one of the most dangerous of all. Two hundred yards -- that's all they needed to go on this street, and the worst of it would be over.

They approached from a side street and paused at the intersection. To the left was an orange truck, parked and apparently unoccupied. To the right was an empty street, and that's the direction they turned, led by Sgt. King, who would later detail what happened, as would Capt. Taylor and several other soldiers.

King circled a pile of trash that turned out to be nothing but a pile of trash.

He examined a concrete block that was nothing other than a concrete block.