On a bridge into Basra, Olga Craig bumped into the SAS as it was gathering intelligence from Iraqis fleeing the mortar shells of Saddam's militia As a greeting, it was neither conventional nor civilised - but then neither were the circumstances. I was in retreat, he was advancing. It was 4pm one afternoon last week on the bridge into Basra, and Saddam Hussein's elite militia were sending a rain of mortar shells and rocket-propelled grenades from the city. In the smoke and the confusion and the deafening noise, I ran straight into him, my left arm colliding with his assault...