from The New York Times
By DAMIEN CAVE

MAHMUDIYA, Iraq, May 22 - The ground exploded under an ashen sky at dawn. Dust, dirt, blood and military equipment filled the air, clearing after several seconds to reveal a frenzied scene of horror.

Where Sgt. Justin D. Wisniewski, 22, had just been standing there was now a crater five feet wide and three feet deep. His body lay nearby. The wounded were scattered around him.

Soldiers near bomb explosion

The soldiers swore. “It was Ski,” one said, using the sergeant’s nickname.

Sgt. Joshua Delgado, 23, the unit’s medic, rushed in and went to work on the most seriously wounded soldier, who lay with shrapnel wounds to the face, arm and side. Two other Americans and an Iraqi were also hurt.

One of the wounded, Staff Sgt. Robert Simonovich, 31, knelt off to the right. He had taken his body armor off and, with just a T’shirt on, it was clear he had not walked far enough yet to sweat. His hands rested on his knees, his head tilted down. Eyes closed, he said he couldn-t see.

“It’s not one of our guys, is it?” he said. No one answered.

Capt. Blake Keil, 31, who commanded the group of 11 Americans working with about 50 Iraqis, called for a medevac helicopter.

The bomb was the third planted away from a road that the soldiers had discovered since May 12, when they began searching for three soldiers from their unit who were captured after an ambush that left four Americans and an Iraqi soldier dead.

After the attack on Saturday, the reality of the threat set in: the fields they had been crossing on foot for months might now be as dangerous as the roads they had learned to avoid. What they had just witnessed - a homemade land mine, or what the military calls a dismounted improvised explosive device - could be anywhere.

Some of the soldiers began to move more slowly. Seeking cover, they traced one another’s footsteps to an abandoned house. Sergeant Simonovich continued to kneel alone.

“I-m worried about my guy out front, Sergeant Wisniewski,” he said. His Ohio accent was thick enough to sound southern. Blood had splattered his face, which was bruised but intact. “I have a question,” he said, pointing to the left side of his head. “Is my ear still there?”

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