Cars clogged the road as they approached the traffic circle in front of the Justice Ministry, with its statue of Iraq's first modern ruler, King Faisal, mounted on a horse. An old white pick up truck broke down by the traffic circle and its driver approached a policeman and started yelling. Rubaie watched the argument, a bit annoyed. It was then the first of two car bombs exploded on opposite ends of the block, leaving 147 dead and adding a bloody new chapter to the unremitting violence that has left Iraqis so deeply tired and angry and so often disenchanted with their government. The explosion lifted Rubaie's white Corolla in the air and slammed it down hard. Dust and black smoke caused him to begin choking. The bodyguard next to him told him not to leave the car. Then, the second bomb detonated outside the provincial council office they had left only about five minutes earlier. Rubaie threw off his suit jacket and tie and headed back toward the council building. In doing so, he stepped over body parts and waded through streams of blood. People fished out pieces of flesh floating in chocolate-colored sewage water from a burst water main. Men and women shouted 'God is great' and yelled at people to pick up the dead and wounded. Some cried: `This is a catastrophe on Iraq;' or `This is because of the elections.' Rubaie counted 25 corpses. 'The most amazing thing I saw was a man they lifted out from under the concrete wall. His whole body was intact from his shoulder down, his clothes were clean and not ripped, but his head was crushed and unrecognizable,' he said. Blast walls had fallen back into the provincial council building. Cars and trucks were piled on top of another. 'We were looking for our friends and partners, survivors. We were crying, hugging and trying to help each other. One person was dead and another lived. You have tears on the one hand and then smiles for those who survived.' Rubaie watched a waiter named Ali dive into a crater caused by the blast that had filled with sewage in front of the building and try to scoop out human limbs, but Ali couldn't swim and started to sink. One of Rubaie's bodyguards dove into the sewage pool and pulled Ali out. Rubaie said at least 25 provincial council building employees were killed around the building and its parking lot. One was a bodyguard named Abbas, who always told jokes. All that was left of him was his identity card. Another was Sabah, a security guard at the building's gate, who always smiled and wished a happy good morning to every visitor. His body was charred almost beyond recognition. Rubaie embraced those who lived, those covered in dust like himself. He had survived previous bombings, but this was different 'There was no humanity,' he said, recounting the events by phone. At the Mansour Melia hotel, Zaidoun Haidar was puffing on a Galois cigarette when the first explosion sent glass and debris raining down on him. The glass cut his arms, hands and back, and he started to bleed. But he ran out the front gate and rushed toward the Justice Ministry. 'Nobody knew what was going on. I forgot about the blood from my hands and legs, especially after I saw four dead women on the ground. They had on headscarves and looked like civil servants,' he said. He also passed four lifeless Iraqi soldiers in a car. The blast had torn down the ministry's facade and flames scoured the building. A jawbone and blackened teeth lay on the ground. Policemen and soldiers fired assault rifles and machine guns in the air. Others began to curse the security officers and politicians. Haidar picked up two wounded men and loaded them into a pickup truck before heading back to the hotel. Friends loaded him in a car and rushed him to the hospital to treat his own wounds. In late afternoon, he returned home. 'My mother was crying when she saw me. I told her `I am OK Mom. I am in good shape.' I saw my five-month old son Mohammed. I never thought I'd see him again,' he said. Haidar, talking by phone late Sunday night, made clear he thought the situation would only get worse. He found himself alternately wishing that Americans still patrolled Baghdad or that old officers from Saddam Hussein's regime would return and save the country. He said in an exhausted voice: 'We will see more bombings and more violence. Political disputes will increase. Things will never be solved here.' 