BALAD, IRAQ - The U.S. military's main combat hospital in Iraq has increasingly switched to helping Iraqis. As the numbers of wounded American soldiers have fallen, the hospital is now saving the lives of a remarkable 93 percent of Iraqis who come with devastating injuries.

It's another sign of the radical improvements in health care made at combat trauma care units in wartime -- especially because, unlike U.S. soldiers, most Iraqi patients at the Air Force Theater Hospital don't wear body armor and helmets or drive in vehicles designed to withstand roadside bombs.

"There are people with injuries that are brought here, and I say this with confidence, if they went anywhere else in the world, they would not survive," said Col. Mark Mavity, the commander of the hospital.

On one recent day, 5-year-old Sajad Lafta lay in his bed crying for his father while his older half-brother, Abdul Wahid, tried to comfort him by holding up a picture of a puppy that Sajad colored while recovering at the hospital.

Two funerals

The boy didn't know yet that Wahid, 25, came to visit him because his father was attending the funerals for two of his other young sons. They were killed by a car bomb that blew off Sajad's lower left leg and left tiny pieces of metal scattered over his body.

"Thank God, we are positive he is going to live," said Wahid, who planned to take the puppy picture home to their mother as proof that Sajad was alive.

Over the years, the hospital at Balad Air Base has become synonymous with combat trauma care. It is best known for saving countless U.S. soldiers with catastrophic battle injuries -- more than 96 percent on average over the six-month period ending in August.

But even more astonishing: During that same time, about 93 percent of Iraqis left the hospital alive -- up from an average of 89.7 percent during the previous six months.

Their injuries are devastating -- shredded limbs, penetrating shrapnel fragments, massive internal bleeding and gaping head wounds.

The car bomb that wounded Sajad exploded during the evening of Sept. 12 in the town of Dujail, killing at least 32 people including his 6- and 7-year-old brothers as the three walked home after buying a few pieces of candy.

When Sajad's father heard the explosion, he raced over to his sons. Sajad was the only one still breathing. After the local hospital turned the boy away because his wounds were too severe, Sajad was taken on a U.S. helicopter to the military hospital at Balad Air Base, about 50 miles north of Baghdad.

Of the 11 Iraqis wounded in the blast who were taken to the hospital, 10 survived. The 11th was declared dead on arrival, doctors said.

Surgery in bulk

As soon as the Iraqis arrived at the hospital, a team of doctors and nurses began operating -- up to eight patients at a time. Nine hours later, at 4 a.m., they called it a night.

"The magnitude of injury is something that's unlike what we typically experience in the civilian world. ... We had a gentleman [from the blast] with an arm blown off, a leg blown off, a kidney that was destroyed, huge soft-tissue injuries, a head injury, and he's alive today," said the hospital's trauma chief, Maj. Gary Vercruysse, an Air Force reservist who is an assistant professor of surgery at Emory University and works at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta.

The injured were rolled back into operating rooms again the next day. Lt. Col. Debra Malone, a trauma surgeon, spent four hours on Day Two with one man alone, closing up his amputated finger, reconnecting pieces of his shredded bowel and washing out severe leg and groin wounds.

Less than a week after the Dujail car bomb tore long, jagged gashes in Yassir Mustafa Majid's head, arm and legs, the 32-year-old third-grade teacher met his father at one of Balad Air Base's gates.

He was going home but said he would return in a couple of weeks to get his stitches removed.

"If I wasn't brought here," Majid said, "I would have died."

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