Babil Province, Iraq – Every patrol down bomb-laden Iraqi roads is an act of faith for many of the soldiers here. They carry laminated “Soldiers’ Psalm” cards and pray for protection before rolling out in dusty Humvees from base camp.

They jam a tent chapel for religious services.

In the mess hall, some bow their heads before eating.

On cots, others stroke rosary beads.

The pre-patrol prayers in particular give comfort, says Pfc. Thouen Yen, a Cambodian-American father of three who escaped the Khmer Rouge killing fields as a boy. Poised beside Humvees with fellow troops of the Colorado-based 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment recently, Yen, 31, silently reread the psalm’s promise that God will keep them safe from all hidden dangers.

Superior weapons and high-tech equipment are sometimes useless against suicide bombers and remotely detonated blasts targeting troops. Over the past week, the Colorado-based soldiers found 25 roadside bombs. They pre-emptively set off 21.

The others damaged three Humvees, but so far, no one has been hurt.

“We live by faith every day,” Yen said. “Hopefully, we’ll all come back.”

Before heading out to a risky high-traffic area Tuesday, Yen and his crew prayed together.

Four versions of the Bible, downloaded into a pocket computer, help Spec. Clayton Palmer, 21, of Broomfield, study passages when he has spare time. Palmer and Spec. Oscar Prado, 32, of Milwaukee, bowed their heads Sunday in the mess hall. Heartbroken about the death of his 15-year-old Alaskan malamute, Nikko, shortly before he left Fort Carson, Prado reckoned that “my faith is going to be tested here.”

“The first time we were in Iraq, I relied on God. This time, I’ll rely on him more. The first time, we weren’t under mortar alert the way we were this week.”

Kneeling in a tent converted into a chapel, Sgt. David Rivera gave thanks that he had survived another week. He prayed for his wife and daughter back in Fayetteville, N.C. He prayed for the U.S. mission of regaining control in Iraq when some Iraqis want troops to go home.

“There are so many things the insurgents have now,” Rivera said. “They are getting smarter. They are looking for new ways to harm us. You know they are out there. Death could touch you any time.”

Some things he doesn’t tell his wife “because I don’t want her to worry about me,” said Rivera, whose duties include driving fuel trucks. And so he just prays.

Gripping his assault rifle while rolling past Iraqi farms, Yen gazed out sympathetically at farmers, their veiled wives and their children “who may have no food or shelter.” He wished he could help them.

A refugee who settled in North Hollywood, Calif., Yen grew up worshiping in the Buddhist and Hindu traditions. He and his father fled Cambodia in 1979 and “now I must give my life” in service to the American people who embraced him and his family, he said.

Looking out through thick Humvee windows at Iraqis, “I have a profound sadness,” Yen said. “But I also hope the situation is getting better for these people here and that we all can go home in one piece.”