TEHRAN, MARCH 21 -- At 4:10 p.m. today, it could be seen streaking over the snow-capped peaks southwest of the Iranian capital -- a brilliant white vapor trail against a clear blue sky. There was an eerie quiet throughout this city of 12 million celebrating the Iranian New Year.

Shopkeepers, taxidrivers, soldiers, women in black head scarves herding gaggles of children stopped and looked up as the projectile stuttered momentarily, shedding the last stage of its rocket boosters with a distinctive puff.

Then, from its high perch, the Iraqi Scud-B missile packed with hundreds of pounds of explosives dived into the sprawling southern suburbs, exploding with a long, double kaboom.

The second Iraqi missile of the day had crashed into a residential neighborhood in the unrelenting missile "war of the cities" that has claimed hundreds of civilian lives in Tehran, the Iraqi capital of Baghdad and a half-dozen other cities in the two warring countries.

The first missile came just after midnight. Its thunderous impact in the northern Tehran district where Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini lives riveted the attention of the city's revolutionary elite on the growing dangers this ballistic missile war poses to Iran, in particular.

Missile damage is visible in dozens of neighborhoods here that have taken the pounding of more than 60 long-range Iraqi rockets fired in the past month's furious exchanges.

Iran, which has fired fewer than half as many missiles as Iraq has over the past month, appears to have no long-term advantage or interest in turning the 7 1/2-year conflict into an escalating duel in which the civilian populations of both sides have become hostage to the military violence.

But Iraq, whose greater access to advanced weaponry and whose leadership is urgently seeking an end to the war, has suddenly changed the stakes of this war for Iran.

For touring foreign journalists, shattered windows with jagged shardswere the first sign that a missile had exploded nearby.

Where the missiles landed, reporters saw dozens of heavily damaged or pulverized buildings -- hospitals, houses, a market on a busy square, a theater and small shops and offices.

The Iranian regime has been deliberately vague about the total number of casualties, but the ambulances and hospitals are busy with the wounded and the halls are packed with grim-faced relatives.

"The government does not want the people to panic," said one well-informed Iranian with ties to the Islamic regime. "But still they announce each missile on television," he said, because the people can hear the "booms."

There is also a sense expressed by some people here that Iran has adjusted to this new round of what it calls "the imposed war."

Thousands of people are reported to be spending more time out of the city with relatives. The Caspian Sea resorts in the north are said to be full of Tehran residents extending their vacations and even commuting to jobs in the city.

Neighborhood committees have organized glass replacement patrols in this city of acute shortages. Squads of revolutionary volunteers armed with rolls of plastic sheeting have swooped into stricken areas to help thousands of families fight the chill night wind while they wait for new windowpanes.

Every manner and design of blanket can be seen fluttering in Tehran's empty window jambs. One of the most essential household commodities is masking tape, which city residents put on the brittle plateglass to keep it from shattering.

A reporter visiting Tehran for the first time in a year found many more government buildings with sandbagged entrances and new public air raid shelters made of reinforced concrete near bus stops downtown and in densely packed neighborhoods in the center of the city, where many of the missiles have hit.

"The people were very surprised when the Iraqis started sending these missiles," said one Iranian official, "and they are very afraid of them." Although government officials say they cannot discuss the precise details of missile strikes out of concern for confirming targeting data to Iraqi missile commanders, news of the hits travels quickly.

In one potentially embarrassing attack for Iraq recently, one missile crashed into a playhouse, landing a few hundred feet short of the Soviet Embassy here. The force of the blast blew out all of the facing windows of the Soviet mission, according to sources, just days after Iranian students had marched on it to protest Soviet Scud-B sales to Iraq.

Both Iran and Iraq are believed to use the Soviet-supplied Scud-B missile. Baghdad is close enough to the border that Iran has been able to use unmodified missiles to hit the Iraqi capital. But to reach Tehran, which is almost 300 miles from the Iraqi border, Iraq is believed to have modified the Scud-B to increase its range.

In another attack, a missile landed only a few dozen feet from the headquarters of Iran's Islamic Guidance Ministry, crushing a block of small shops and blowing out most of the ministry's windows.