A grateful patient and a bomb tip: What the new U.S. outreach wants to see in Iraq

(AP) It was the kind of exchange that U.S. troops are counting on.

Medics treated an electrical burn on an Iraqi man injured doing home wiring. In return, he passed along a tip: Powerful local clan leaders have ordered a fresh crop of roadside bombs against U.S.-led forces.

The whispered warning _ in the shadow of a mosque believed to support Sunni insurgents _ is just what the soldiers want to hear as part of a new strategy to move some units off big, fortress-like bases and into outposts in Iraq's most violent places.

The plan hinges on hopes that increased contact with ordinary Iraqis will help soldiers separate innocent civilians from militants hiding among them, and try to rebuild a battered U.S. image after four years of fighting.

The shift also stands as an indirect indictment of the Pentagon's old counterinsurgency plans after years of losing touch with the Iraqi streets _ and access to the crucial rumor mills and informants.

"I live where I work. It puts me so much closer to the people. That's what this is all about. The people are the center of gravity in this fight," said Capt. Richard Ince, a native of Georgetown, Texas.

His company _ part of the Army's 2nd Battalion, 5th Cavalry Regiment _ has turned a water treatment plant into a military compound near Youssifiyah, a volatile area 12 miles south of Baghdad. It's in the so-called "Triangle of Death" because of relentless attacks on U.S. military units patrolling its dirt and gravel roads.

On Friday, he made the five-minute walk from the base to near the mosque in a grove of palm and pine trees on the outskirts of Youssifiyah. Until recently, such a stroll would have been considered foolhardy _ if not a breach of orders _ for U.S. forces.

Now, it's encouraged.

Troops quickly turned the stone courtyard of an abandoned home into an open-air clinic. They did not advertise their plans in advance, fearing insurgents could plot an attack. Instead, word was spread by knocking on a few doors and letting the local grapevine do the rest.

Within minutes, dozens of people waited behind razor wire for treatment. In Iraq, even humanitarian outreach is accompanied by full-bore security. Every patient was searched and even babies were patted down.

Medics doled out children's Tylenol and antibiotics to parents with sick children. A smiling sergeant was handing out rainbow-colored pencils and candies to youngsters when a man holding his arm approached.

It was charred by a serious electrical burn, which oozed blood. Then, through an interpreter, he told Ince about how local tribal chiefs had called for more roadside bombs in the area.

Ince nodded and spoke quietly into a radio.

Sgt. James Farris, 31, of Tullahoma, Tenn., who had been listening to the exchange, said soldiers have heard dozens of tips like this since they moved into their new post earlier this year.

Some were credible and others viewed with suspicion. But it's opening the channels that's needed, he said.

Along with the advantages, however, come risks. A coordinated attack last month on the outpost in Tarmiyah, about 30 miles north of Baghdad, killed two soldiers and wounded dozens more.

About two hours after the clinic outside Youssifiyah opened, it was ordered closed. Nurses rushed to pack crates. Soldiers, who had watched quietly through the morning, suddenly took defensive positions.

There was no direct threat. Ince simply didn't want to press his luck.

"The longer you stay out here, the more you open yourself to negative action," Ince said, rushing to leave. "When you're ahead at the craps table, that's when you pick up your chips and go home."