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was especially credited for keeping the finds in Iraq instead of leaving the country.
    The museum now had twenty public galleries, arranged chronologically from the prehistoric through the Sumerian, Babylonian, Assyrian, and Islamic periods, displaying clay tablets, cylinder seals, ivories, jewelry, and statues. The most impressive gallery contained the Assyrian antiquities. Gigantic carvings covered its walls and giant human-headed winged bulls stood on pedestals. The museum’s most prized possession was the Sacred Vase of Warka. Over five thousand years old, it was the oldest known carved stone ritual vessel.
    Objects spanning more than ten thousand years of civilization were on display in the museum, but the displayed pieces represented only about 3 percent of its holdings, making it the world’s greatest holder of cultural treasures. In total, the museum housed almost two hundred thousand artifacts.
    Abdullah had learned to read and write and was knowledgeable about the antiquities of the museum, but unlike the other curators, he had limited formal education. Most of the curators had advanced degrees in archaeology, art, and other similar areas of study. He made up for a lack of formal education with hard work, enthusiasm, and dedication.
    Abdullah’s devotion propelled him now out of a sickbed to the museum.
    The world of antiquities had not changed greatly since the day his father was murdered for protecting a museum piece. At thousands of sites all over the nation, people—some poor and desperate, some just avaricious—still stole and sold pieces of the nation’s history. But now was a time of special concern: For the second time in just over a decade, foreign armies were pounding Baghdad.
    In 1991, Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait and grabbed its oil, bringing the wrath of Western allies on him and the nation. After twelve contentious years of containment and defiance, the foreigners had returned, only this time the American, British, and other forces had crushed Saddam’s armies, pushing all the way to Baghdad.
    News of allied forces entering the city and fighting near the museum had gotten Abdullah out of his sickbed.
    That Saddam, his brutal sons, and the hated Ba’th political party should be driven from power was right and just. “Allah Akbar!” God is Great! But the museum was too important to become a casualty of the war between Saddam and the West.
    A decision was made to lock up the museum and send the employees home for their protection. The museum director advised the staff that the museum would not be harmed in the coming battle, that under the international conventions of war museums could not be targeted.
    When the lockup occurred, Abdullah was suffering from a recurring problem with malaria attacks and had been bedridden for three days. Suffering fever and chills, he forced himself out of bed and onto the street when he got news from a friend that a unit of Saddam’s elite Republican Guard was using the museum as a defensive position and that American troops were approaching. That made the treasure-house of culture a battlefield.
    As Abdullah came around the corner to a side entrance of the museum he uttered an exclamation of grief and distress: “Ya ellahe!”
    Both Iraqi and American military vehicles were parked near the side door. Two Iraqi Republican Guard soldiers were standing by the trucks smoking cigarettes.
    They’re fighting inside!
was the first thought that ran through Abdullah’s mind.
    He didn’t know what to do. If he barged in, one side or the other would shoot him. He needed to find the Americans inside and tell them they must leave the museum and wait for the Iraqis to surrender. Everyone knew Saddam had fled the city and resistance was useless.
    Abdullah’s command of English was good because over the years he had assisted British, Canadian, American, and Australian archaeologists who had come to the museum to study the antiquities of Mesopotamia. He would reason with the