Baghdad, Iraq – During their first tour of duty in Iraq, Sgt. 1st Class Chris Joseph and his tank crew named their M1A2 Abrams “Allah My Ass.”

A supervisor nixed that as culturally insensitive.

Joseph and crew renamed it “American Oppressor,” which passed muster, and churned through the desert on missions near the Syrian border.

Now as the U.S. occupation enters its third year and the emphasis shifts toward helping Iraqis maintain and govern their own country, the soldiers call their tank the “Angry Beaver.”

It growled in the dust recently amid dozens of other tanks lined up in a camp south of Baghdad – a superpower show of heavy force in an area where remote-control bombs target troops.

From a distance, the tanks look hard, uniform, impersonal.

Yet soldiers delicately have stenciled black letters along barrels of tank guns. “American Muscle.” “Adrenaline Rush.” “Albert Taco.”

The naming “makes it yours – same as you name your favorite pet,” Staff Sgt. Nicholas Curnell, 32, of Charleston, S.C., said while sorting gear with members of the “Angel of Death” crew he commands.

Soldiers are naming things all around as the Colorado-based 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment begins a second deployment away from their families and friends.

Some soldiers name their guns. Sgt. Andrew Gieseke, 23, of Kansas City, Kan., calls his M-4 assault rifle “Laura,” after a former girlfriend.

“She was a heartbreaker. This baby’s a heartbreaker,” Gieseke said, slapping the butt. “I associate the two.”

Also hanging from his shoulder: a shotgun labeled “My Boomstick.”

One soldier even names dustpans, brooms and a fly swatter. It started at basic training in Kentucky, said Spec. Wesley Vanbruaene, 27, of South Bend, Ind.

“In the Army, you need to mark everything, or somebody will take it,” he said.

Here he named the fly swatter Doug E. Fresh.

“You’ve just got to try to make it fun because everything here sucks. That’s why I started doing it here,” he said.

Rows of tents – surrounded by sandbags – show increasingly personal touches. Seven Apache attack helicopter pilots recently declared theirs “The Purple Palace.”

They’ve hooked up three video-gaming consoles, four televisions, including one with a 29-inch screen, seven laptop computers, air conditioning, and carpet salvaged from contractor trash heaps.

And now, Chief Warrant Officer Roger Wood, 34, of Los Angeles lifted a white blanket to show off a couch.

“Look at this,” Wood said, gesturing at regal dark upholstery. “I mean, for the desert, this is a nice couch.”

Soldiers in neighboring tents call it a “Taj Mahal,” and “a mini Wal-Mart electronics store.” The pilots take pride.

“You have to,” said Chief Warrant Officer Larry Wilson, 33, of Winchester, Va. “We’re here for a year. A situation is always what you make of it. It’s not going to be home, but at least you can make something out of it.”

Back by his tank, Angry Beaver commander Joseph recalled how “my wife came up with the name.”

“We were just sitting on the couch watching television” with their two sons – a cartoon featuring two hostile beavers. His wife suggested that might work for his tank.

And in the open back of a Bradley Fighting Vehicle named Albert Taco, one crew member hunched over his helmet, painting intricate tan camouflage splotches as Staff Sgt. Carlos Richardson, 37, of Nogales, Ariz., the crew chief, climbed through.

Richardson remembered how, during an early morning motor-pool meeting at Fort Carson, he and fellow Apache Troop tankers were trying to come up with good names.

Their Bradley carries TOW missiles, depleted uranium- coated bullets the size of fire hydrants, and explosive rounds with the punch of five grenades.

Military tradition requires that tank names begin with the same letter as the troop name.

“But a name starting with a vowel is really hard. We came up with ‘Al Capone.’ Somebody had that. And there’s already ‘American’ this and ‘American’ that.”

As they chewed on all this, they also were chewing breakfast burritos and tacos from Albert Taco, their favorite place, southeast of Colorado Springs.

That solved it.

A little humor like that can build spirit – which is essential, Richardson said.

Regimental superiors, too, want to build esprit de corps. But they also worry that too many names and labels could help enemies track troop movements.

Commanders have been discussing whether to paint over the names on tank guns, or at least prohibit stenciled logos, Command Sgt. Major John Caldwell said.

“It won’t take the insurgents long to figure out who’s who if we aren’t careful,” he said.