On one side is an American artillery platoon and light infantry, with all the latest technology the U.S. Army can bring to bear. On the other is a team or teams of Iraqi mortar men -- probably working from the back of a car.

As U.S.-led forces prepare for a possible assault on the rebel stronghold of Fallujah, an intense conflict is rumbling 30 miles west in Ramadi.

At times the Ramadi fighting is sudden and focused, as on Sunday, when one Marine was killed and four were wounded by a roadside bomb that tore into their patrol downtown.

At other times, it is drawn out and random. There were no casualties in sporadic exchanges of mortars and howitzer fire Sunday at Camp Ramadi, the sprawling Army and Marine compound just west of this capital of Al Anbar province.

The fight involved scores of American troops, disrupting meals as multiple explosions silenced conversations and drew heated responses from an Army field artillery unit on base.

The Americans didn't lose, but it isn't known whether they won.

"What we've learned about the mortar men is they're very good. In fact, they're experts," said Army Capt. Andre Takacs, 29, who at 3 a.m. Sunday was briefing a dozen members of Alpha Company of the 1st Battalion, 9th Infantry Regiment about trying to catch the Iraqi mortar men. The mission would last from before sunup until after sunset. It is next to impossible to catch them, he said.

"They know exactly when to fire," and move quickly afterward, Takacs said. They have accomplices who spot American troops and sometimes delay them, "to prevent us from intercepting the mortar teams, which makes the quick-response team ineffective in getting the mortar team."

The fastest reactions come from American artillery, which uses radar to spot incoming mortar rounds. In a nondescript low building on the base, Army officers with radios and a tabletop aerial photo of the Ramadi area plot out where the rounds originated.

In another building, a decision is made whether it is safe to fire as the coordinates are relayed to a dirt field occupied by 1st Platoon, B Company of the 2nd Battalion, 17th Field Artillery Regiment.

"Counterfire!" yelled Sgt. 1st Class Gregory Scott, ordering the men to prepare their response. Just after noon Sunday, mortar fire was detected nearby, aimed at another U.S. installation. Scott, 36, a native of South Boston, Va., who is platoon sergeant of 1st Platoon, waited for permission to shoot.

In the concrete blast protection surrounding a huge 155 mm Paladin field howitzer, four soldiers dropped electronic games and flyswatters, scrambled into the gun's hatches, turned on the engine and aimed at a far-off point.

A minute later, Sgt. Anselmo De La Cruz, 25, of New York, with a phone receiver tucked between his ear and shoulder, drew his hand across his throat and shook his head. The Paladin's motor cut off. Someone in headquarters decided that taking the shot was too risky. No one in the Paladin knew why.

Ramadi and Fallujah are part of the so-called Sunni Triangle, and both cities are hotbeds for insurgent activity.

U.S. forces and the Iraqi interim government believe Jordanian-born militant Abu Musab al-Zarqawi is running his group -- now called Al Qaeda in Iraq -- from Fallujah. In early April, 12 Marines died in an ambush in Ramadi.

Officers at Camp Ramadi believe Saddam Hussein's former Baath Party supporters are underwriting the insurgency here, largely fought by locals for money and inspired by an influx of foreign jihadists through Iraq's porous western border with Syria.

Attacks on U.S. supply routes and installations in the area have been relentless. Nearly every day -- often several times a day -- that has meant mortar attacks on Camp Ramadi.

For only the second time ever, Takacs on Sunday led a quick-response team from the base into the farmland and urban sprawl outside city limits. The mortar teams have been firing from grassy areas or among crops, at least 150 yards from buildings, so that counterfire from the Americans doesn't destroy civilian structures.

"So they don't lose the local support," Takacs explained. "Just like we are, they're trying to win the hearts and minds of Iraqis."

There are about 8 square miles in which the insurgents operate. Takacs and his unit can stake out about a 655-yard circle with snipers, Humvees and armed troops.

Their first mission didn't end successfully. Hoping to catch a mortar team in the farmland near Camp Ramadi, an Army sniper set up in a pasture. A cow and an Iraqi farmer found him the next day.

On the second mission, the soldiers didn't catch anybody.

Back in Camp Ramadi, Scott and his team still were waiting around the howitzer.

There was a second call for counterfire. For the first time Sunday, 1st Platoon shot back. Within two minutes, the two Paladins nearest Scott fired eight rounds toward the spot where Army 2nd Brigade specialists told them a mortar was fired.

With a thunderous crash, 95 pounds of high explosive were launched out of the tubes, each a black dot against the blue sky.

"I'm assuming we hit them," said Pvt. Jacob Pippin, 19, of St. Elmo, Ill.

But it's difficult to know for sure.

"The little info we got, we've been pretty precise, pretty accurate," Scott said.

While the U.S. soldiers are certain they are shooting at the right places, they are less certain whether the insurgents are still there when the rounds arrived.

The most common evidence of success is relative quiet afterward. "Sometimes we go seven, eight days without firing, then we'll get hit three or four times in a row," Scott said.

Enemy bodies are rarely found, either because the rounds missed their mark or because it is Muslim custom to quickly bury the dead.

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