BAQUBAH, Iraq, 30 November 2003 — The Iraqis come in with their petitions in Arabic, and the papers leave Nebras Ali’s translation office in English. Tales of cars wrecked by tanks, queries about detained and missing relatives, advice on how to rule Iraq — Ali has seen them all.

With the sheaths in hand, he walks up to concrete barriers that encase the US Army’s civil affairs office just across the street and hands them to a guard who hands them to someone else inside. Ali helps the Iraqis connect with the Americans and makes money for himself. He says he hates the Americans.

Ali personifies the murky sea of hostility that surrounds US forces in this town, which has become yet another focal point of armed opposition to the occupation and the Iraqis who work with the Americans. Last week, suicide car bombers blew up police stations here and in nearby Bani Sad and killed 18 Iraqis, including four civilian adults and a child.

Yet the kind of opposition to the Americans espoused by Ali and a group of friends who help out at his office is hard to classify. They all condone the attacks on Americans. Some think Iraqi collaborators ought to be targets, some don’t. Some think suicide bombings are justified, some think they are sinful.

Ali’s philosophical position is especially precarious. He makes his living by helping Iraqis contact US forces, yet he thinks they should not cooperate with them. “I don’t help Iraqis cooperate with the Americans. That would be against my religion,” he said. “I help them deal with them.”

His complex logic is further complicated by religious beliefs. “Under Islam, the Americans are invaders. I don’t trust them. They came for their own benefit,” he said.

But Ali doesn’t want the army to leave just yet. “We Iraqis have too many problems among ourselves. We have to unite first and then the Americans should leave,” he said.

Ali’s attitude is widespread in Iraq. Toleration for Americans, such as it is, persists in part because Iraqis fear worse to come. Baqubah, 30 miles northeast of Baghdad, lies in the Sunni Muslim heartland, where many Iraqis are loyal to deposed Iraqi President Saddam Hussein. They are afraid of domination by the country’s Shiite majority in the south.

“The general public lives with too much uncertainty,” Ali said.

Many US military officers express bewilderment at their contacts with the Iraqi world. “It’s frustrating. You don’t know who you can trust. You don’t know who is who,” said Lt. Robert Small, a military liaison officer at the civil affairs office.

Transcribers are a fixture outside government buildings in Iraq. Many set up shop at sidewalk tables piled high with official forms under umbrellas. They sip tea and absorb the preoccupations of their fellow citizens. With the Americans in charge of Iraq, command of English is a plus.

Ali is a slender 25-year-old who belonged to the Republican Guard, a branch of the Iraqi Army regarded as loyal to Saddam. Yet he claims no loyalty to the leader-in-hiding.

“When I was a child, I loved Saddam Hussein. His face was everywhere. He was like a second father,” he said. “Then when I got older, I changed. I saw the government was stealing from the people. My parents tried to keep me quiet. They were wrong.”

As an electrical engineering student, Ali was tapped to join the ruling Baath Party. He refused. By then, he had turned to religion as an ideological guide. “Islam says there is only the party of God and the devil. Any political party is a virus,” he said.

Nonetheless, his skills won him a place in the Republican Guard as a communications officer. When the United States invaded, “We sat trying to avoid bombs,” he said.

“We went home as losers. I see myself as a warrior now. We need a strong man to lead us. Not like Saddam Hussein. One who is honest and believes in God,” he said.

His four friends — all university-educated and all militantly anti-American — arrived at Ali’s office, which is within sight of the blown-up police station. They debated the merits of the suicide bombing. “Well, I think it was wrong and therefore it was probably the Americans who did it,” said Osama Yaz, another electrical engineer. He said attacks on Americans are designed to make sure that, sooner or later, they leave Iraq.

A customer entered Ali’s little office the other day and Ali handed him a form that began: “To Whom It May Concern in the CPA,” the Coalition Provisional Authority, the US-dominated administration in Iraq. The man dictated: US soldiers detained my son a month ago, and I want to know where he is.

“Iraqis get angry that the Americans give them information slowly, if at all. We hand these papers in, and then nothing happens,” Ali said.

An out-of-work teacher complained that he was laid off because of “political reasons for his past life” — belonging to Saddam’s Baath Party. “I’m a father of six,” he said as Ali took down his words, “and have a heart malfunction. I thought things would be good with the Americans. Instead, I have awakened to the hard-to-believe reality.”

A 20-year-old with a mustache dictated an appeal for a job with the US-organized police. “They will need some new police now,” he said as he recited his resume to Ali.

The room fell silent. Ali took down the data and said, “I know you are doing this out of good intentions. Just stay away from the Americans.”

“I need the job,” answered the man.

“Better to stay far from the Americans,” Ali repeated. “You know it’s dangerous out there.”