Crying as she remembered the episode, Hussein's mother explained that the brothers were hit by the bombs a week ago when they rushed out of the house, frightened by the sound of an explosion and fearing the roof was caving in.

Ever since, she has not seen a smile on Hussein's face. He speaks little and has not had a quiet night of sleep.

He is not the only child maimed in the US-led war that ousted Saddam Hussein. In Kuwait on Wednesday, doctors were operating on 12-year-old Ali Ismail Abbas, who lost both arms, suffered extensive burns and was orphaned when a US missile hit his home. Charities and a British media campaign raised funds to treat him.

But hundreds of other Iraqi children are also suffering from an array of traumas, spending weeks in fear of bombing and then watching their city erupt into chaos.

"The true consequences of war on these children are still unknown. For now, we're more concerned with treating their physical wounds," said pediatrist Hassem Rahi from the Saddam Children's Hospital in Baghdad.

"Even though the effects may take a while to manifest, we're already seeing children who suffer nightmares, cry inconsolably, are scared to be alone and have lost their appetite," he said.

Since 1980, Iraqis have suffered from repeated war and an economy crippled by UN sanctions.

The United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) estimated before the war that one million Iraqis under five suffered from chronic malnutrition -- meaning one-quarter of all children in that age bracket.

Rahi said the problem was only made worse by poor drinking water and a lack of medicine. And, with Saddam gone, a culture of violence lingers.

On Kifah street in central Baghdad, four children dragged a bronze statue of Saddam with a rope tied around the neck as if the Iraqi strongman had been hanged.

"We used to love him, but no more. He's a dog, a son of a bitch who abandoned us. Iraq will rise victorious," jeered Ahmad, 7, as his father watched proudly.

Joined by his three young friends, Ahmad spent the full day on the street. His favorite toy is a plastic pistol, with which he mimics his neighbors and shopkeepers who dutifully shoot in the air upon sight of the burglars who have ravaged Baghdad since Saddam's fall.

It's been weeks since any of the children have been able to go to class, even though their school is only a few meters (yards) away. And it may take longer still, as the school, like many others, has been gutted by looters.

Dan Jalid al-Dhayi, a UNICEF spokesman here, said one-quarter of Iraqi children go without schooling. The figure could grow even worse unless reconstruction begins quickly.

"Never have Iraqi children been so ill cared for," Dhayi said in his office, itself ransacked last week.

On the central street of Al-Rashid, Abbas and Mustafa joined their father for a round of looting at the central bank, hoping to get their hands on whatever Iraqi dinar notes were not destroyed when the building was torched.

"No to Bush, no to Saddam!" they shouted, repeating the chant of their elders.

SPACE.WIRE