As the engineers strapped explosives to the legs of the horse that Mr. Hussein sat astride, Army tanks blocked entry to the boulevard. Hundreds of men and boys crowded on nearby street corners.
The blast, when it came, was met with rousing cheers.
The horse and its rider were sent hurtling off the pedestal, crashing to the base. Then the Iraqi colonel and his men began speaking over a loudspeaker, proclaiming an uprising against Mr. Hussein’s government. When they were finished, residents snapped pictures of friends on top of the pile of ruins of the statue, or posed with the soldiers. Then came questions for the nearest available Americans.
“When Saddam Hussein goes?” Ali Salah asked. “Not in Najaf. Saddam in Baghdad.”
I think he’s already gone, claims to the contrary notwithstanding.