Saving Private Jessica

By Jodie Morse

Recuperating in her hospital bed in southwest Germany, Army Private First Class Jessica Lynch had several requests for her doctors: pink casts for her fractured legs and arm, a new hairbrush and a menu of turkey and steamed carrots for when she was stable enough to eat solid foods. She also had an urgent question: Had the story of her rescue made the Parkersburg News and Sentinel, her hometown paper in Palestine, W.Va., the one-store hamlet in the Appalachian foothills where Lynch had spent nearly all of her 19 years?

Considering that hers was the first successful rescue of an American POW since World War II--and the first ever of a woman--the story not only made headlines the world over, but it also buoyed a nation wondering what had happened to the short, neat liberation of Iraq. Within a few hours of the news, the picture of the doe-eyed Lynch swaddled in an American flag while being whisked to safety on a military stretcher had already become an icon. President Bush--along with the inevitable gaggle of book and movie agents--sent best wishes.

Hollywood could not have dreamed up a more singular tale. Lynch, a onetime Miss Congeniality winner in the beauty pageant at her county fair, enlisted in the Army out of necessity, to help pay for the college education she needed to become a kindergarten teacher. Her odyssey began on the evening of March 23, when she and 14 other soldiers from her convoy of the 507th Maintenance Company were ambushed on or near Highway 1, a main north-south artery into Baghdad. Though the details of that night and the following days remain hazy, at least five of the soldiers were taken captive and later shown on Iraqi TV. But Lynch was not among them. According to the Washington Post, Lynch, an Army supply clerk with only minimal combat training, shot several advancing Iraqi soldiers, emptying her weapon of ammunition and possibly incurring a series of gunshot wounds.

After her capture, Lynch was transferred to the emergency wing of Saddam Hospital in Nasiriyah. It was there, according to news reports, that Lynch was spotted by Mohammed, 32, an Iraqi lawyer who had gone to the hospital to visit his wife, a nurse. According to the Washington Post, Mohammed's interest was piqued by a throng of paramilitary guards. A doctor then directed him to their quarry: a young woman bandaged and covered in a white blanket. Mohammed looked on as a guard, clad all in black, twice slapped the woman. After the man left, Mohammed sneaked back into the room and told the patient not to worry, that he would seek help.

Mohammed set out on foot and walked 6 miles before he came across a group of Marines. Then, hands raised, Mohammed approached and said, "I have important information about woman soldier in hospital." Over the next 48 hours, the Marines sent him back to the hospital twice to gather more information. Finally, Mohammed drew five rough maps of the hospital by hand. Using them as guides, a planning team at U.S. Central Command (Centcom) began furiously sketching out the mission.

The go-ahead came on the evening of April 1. As Marines staged a diversionary attack, besieging nearby Iraqi irregulars, Army Rangers set up a perimeter around the hospital. It was a moonless night, but the stars were bright enough to guide the Navy SEALs who slipped into the hospital. Led to her room by a doctor on duty, the SEALs opened the door and asked for Jessica Lynch. At first, she was silent, a sheet pulled tightly over her head. "We're U.S. soldiers," said one of the SEALs. "We're here to protect you and take you home." She responded, "I'm an American soldier too." As they rushed her out to a nearby helicopter, Lynch squeezed the hand of an Army Ranger and said, "Don't let anyone leave me." All the while, planes outfitted with special communications gear circled overhead, allowing a video feed of the events to be broadcast to the military's top brass in Qatar, who were able to watch the rescue in real time.

"It worked perfectly. It was like Black Hawk Down, except nothing went wrong," says Colonel Harry Warren, who heads a military hospital that took part in the mission. Indeed, no one was giddier than Lynch's family and the residents of Palestine, who shouted the good news through the streets and began instantly posting WELCOME HOME signs on the highway leading into town. But the national celebration was tempered on Saturday when the Pentagon identified the remains of nine of her compatriots from the 507th who were found in shallow graves near the hospital where Lynch was rescued. "Of course there is a feeling of satisfaction when you get one soldier back," Centcom spokesman Brigadier General Vincent Brooks told TIME in an interview last week, "but it is a temporary satisfaction." Even at its most fleeting, the feeling was hard to let go. --Reported by Brian Bennett/Tallil, Sally B. Donnelly/Doha and Marc Hequet/Palestine, with other bureaus

With reporting by Brian Bennett/Tallil, Sally B. Donnelly/Doha and Marc Hequet/Palestine, with other bureaus