Today, for the first time, the bombs fell and the missiles struck in daylight. The assault lasted all day. And it came not only from long-range missiles but from coalition planes that are flying over our heads and dropping their payloads in the neighborhood of the Palestine Hotel, where most of the foreign journalists remaining in Baghdad are staying.
TODAY IS ALSO the first time that I am truly frightened. It is not the American bombs I am primarily afraid of. What frightens me and Mary - the name I'll give a photographer with whom I've become inseparable - is the mood of the people. The city is thick with anger and defiance, and we are Americans.
Every day since Mary and I arrived by road from Jordan, we have been threatened with expulsion. This morning, once again, we were ordered out. "You have two choices-you can be a human shield or you can leave the country," said my government minder. He offered this without his usual smarmy smile.
"But what about my visa?" I asked.
"Your visa is now to heaven," he said, forcing a laugh.
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