MAHMUDIYAH, Iraq, 14 July 2004 — Iraqi police Capt. Alaa goes without a bullet-proof vest. Two of his best friends have been killed since May. He is America’s top ally in the badlands south of Baghdad and says he believes in destiny.

If the US-led military contends that setting up strong Iraqi security forces is the key to its exit from the country, three towns just south of the capital — Mahmudiyah, Lutifiyah and Yusifiyah — show just how complicated the task is. The belt of towns has earned the name “Fallujah’s second head” because of constant ambushes on US military, contractors and civilians. The ferocity of the attacks since April has hammered, decimated and demoralized local police.

The scars of the battle literally mark the Mahmudiyah police station. A giant hole gapes in the front hall where a rocket landed when 50 insurgents stormed the building on June 29, Iraq’s first full day of sovereignty.

Rebels entered the station and ripped out the police radio communications before being out-gunned. Eleven bullet holes riddle the front corridor. Two weeks earlier, the police station in neighboring Yusifiyah was blown up, communications equipment stolen so insurgents could eavesdrop on police and interrupt radio conversations with insults. The police force currently does not exist here.

The surge in violence has also wiped out Lutifiyah’s police presence, with 45 of its 59 policemen no longer reporting for duty. Assassinations persist. One policeman in Mahmudiyah was shot dead on June 22 as he left the station, two days before he was supposed to enter Baghdad police protection due to murder threats.

Mahmudiyah’s police chief was gunned down in May and Capt. Alaa is fully aware of his own life expectancy as he enters a formal partnership with the US Marines to clean up the area. “Yes of course I’m afraid. But we believe in destiny so it doesn’t matter,” says the chubby 38-year-old cop, with bags under his eyes and long lines on his face from nights awake on the job.

“Here in Mahmudiyah we hate the cowards, we’re not scared to go to Lutifiyah. We will go to Fallujah. We will go anywhere.” Despite the bluster and much to his embarrassment, his men are actually afraid to go to Lutifiyah and cancel plans for a joint patrol with the Marines through the farm town.

Alaa tells the US Marine, Maj. Mark de Vito, charged with retraining them, his men are refusing to go. The sides agree to patrol Mahmudiyah instead. As de Vito mills around the station, he receives another bit of bad news. The new police chief for Lutifiyah wanders in and tells him he is quitting.

“You should understand the high pressure we’re under. They’re shooting on me all the time and threatening me at my home,” says the colonel who declines to give his name. “I feel tired spiritually. I’m sick right now... I can’t be in charge in those areas.”

The Marine shrugs. He mutters he expected it and imagines the same will happen with the next person they pick.