Hillah Province, Iraq – The red sedan sat by the side of the road. An Iraqi man in a white robe and black “eqale” headband hunched over the hood as U.S. troops approached in four Humvees.

Col. H.R. McMaster, riding shotgun in one, was on his radio trying to arrange a meeting with troops to the south. It fell to Sgt. Matt Hodges, 28, of Union City, Miss., to check out the car.

Some soldier always has to go first, plant gutsy steps forward and find out whether an Iraqi encountered on patrol is a friend or foe.

Commanders say positive mixing with Iraqis is crucial for the United States to build understanding and win over those who otherwise might support anti-U.S. forces.

But actually making that first contact here – an area south of Baghdad where insurgent attacks are frequent – still is risky for soldiers who must venture out from their armored vehicles.

The patrol had begun with 20 or so troops from the Army’s Colorado- based 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment. At base camp, Capt. David Olsen, 31, of Baltimore had given the latest intelligence as they stood in the dust by their loaded Humvees. High- altitude sensors had spotted a suspicious cluster of Iraqi vehicles by a river.

“It’s been real quiet the last 12 hours,” Olsen had said, “which makes me worry.”

An hour out of base camp in the 90-degree heat along Iraq’s main north-south highway, Hodges strode resolutely across the asphalt in full battle garb toward the red car. Fellow troops held back traffic three soccer-field lengths away. Sgt. Gene Braxton, 25, of Fayetteville, N.C., backed up Hodges.

Also walking slowly toward the vehicle was a contract Iraqi-American interpreter whom the troops call “Uncle.” He asked not to be identified in this report for fear his relatives in Iraq could be targeted.

The Iraqi man in white stood, and Hodges said “As- salaamu laykum (peace be upon you),” touching his right hand to his chest – a gesture of respect. Uncle addressed the Iraqi as “Haji” (pilgrim).

The Iraqi said, “It might be the carburetor.”

Hodges: “Is there anything we can help you with?”

Iraqi: “If you will allow me, I’m just going to try to start the car and leave.”

Hodges: “Have you seen anybody suspicious around here?”

The man’s black-clad wife peered out from inside the sedan, a Toyota, and a younger woman cradled a small boy in the back seat. They were Shiite farmers, Uncle said.

Iraqi: “No, we haven’t seen anybody around here.”

Hodges: “There are a lot of explosives along this road. Would it be OK if we look inside your car?”

The wife and the woman cradling the boy got out. The man raised his hands toward the hot sun, frustrated, imploring.

Hodges: “Would you like any water?”

Iraqi: “No, thanks.”

Braxton opened the trunk. The man then reached in and grabbed a white sack and emptied it on the pavement.

Two empty plastic soda bottles fell out, along with a shop light with no bulb and a tire jack.

McMaster now approached. “As-salaamu laykum,” he said, touching his plated chest. The Iraqi man returned the gesture and then complained about the intrusion, his voice rising. U.S. soldiers had stopped him before, he said.

McMaster: “I apologize. It’s a very confusing situation because of the terrorists.”

Iraqi: “But why? I am a family man.”

McMaster: “Our apologies.”

Iraqi: “We can’t do anything. We complain only to God.”

McMaster: “Inshallah (God willing), we shall have peace here.”

The troops would encounter two more apparently broken-down vehicles on this patrol. Each time, Hodges, with Uncle, approached.

“If you don’t interact with people, it’s hard for them to understand your intentions,” McMaster said. “In order to succeed here, we have to connect with the Iraqi people. We need to understand their grievances.”